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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18132-8.txt b/18132-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e470902 --- /dev/null +++ b/18132-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7041 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Canadian Heroine, by Mrs. Harry Coghill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Canadian Heroine + A Novel, Volume 3 (of 3) + +Author: Mrs. Harry Coghill + +Release Date: April 8, 2006 [EBook #18132] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + + + + + + + A CANADIAN HEROINE. + + + + + A CANADIAN HEROINE. + + A Novel. + + + BY + + THE AUTHOR OF "LEAVES FROM THE BACKWOODS." + + + "Questa chiese Lucia in suo dimando, + E disse: Or ha bisogna il tuo fidele + Di te, ed io a te lo raccomando."--_Inferno. Canto II._ + + "Qu'elles sont belles, nos campagnes; + En Canada qu'on vit content! + Salut ô sublimes montagnes, + Bords du superbe St. Laurent! + Habitant de cette contrée + Que nature veut embellir, + Tu peux marcher tête levée, + Ton pays doit t'enorgueillir."--_J. Bedard._ + + + IN THREE VOLUMES. + + VOL. III. + + LONDON: + TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET. STRAND + 1873. + + + [_All rights Reserved._] + + PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO., + + LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS. + + + + +A CANADIAN HEROINE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Mr. Leigh was in a very depressed and anxious mood. His late +conversations with Mrs. Costello had disturbed him and broken up the +current of his thoughts, and even to some extent of his usual +occupations, without producing any result beneficial to either of them. +She had told him a strange and almost incredible story of her life; and +then, just when he was full of sympathy and eagerness to be of use to +her, everything seemed suddenly to have changed, and the events that +followed had been wholly, as it were, out of his reach. He thought over +the matter with a little sensation, which, if he had been less simple +and generous a man, might have been offence. Even as it was, he felt +uncomfortably divided between his real interest in his old friends, and +a temptation to pretend that he was not interested at all. He +remembered, too, with a serio-comical kind of remorse, the manner in +which he had spoken to Mrs. Costello about Maurice. He was obliged to +confess to himself that Maurice had never said a word to him which could +be taken as expressing any other than a brotherly feeling of regard for +Lucia; he had certainly _fancied_ that there was another kind of +affection in his thoughts; but it was no part of the old soldier's code +of honour to sanction the betrayal of a secret discovered by chance, and +he felt guilty in remembering how far the warmth of his friendship had +carried him. He considered, by way of tormenting himself yet further, +that it was perfectly possible for a young man, being daily in the +company of a beautiful and charming girl, to fancy himself in love with +her, and yet, on passing into a different world and seeing other +charming girls, to discover that he had been mistaken. It is true that +if any other person had suggested that Maurice might have done this, Mr. +Leigh would have been utterly offended and indignant; nevertheless, +having proposed the idea to himself, he tried to look upon it as quite +natural and justifiable. After all, this second theory of inconstancy +rested upon the first theory of supposed love, and that upon guesses and +surmises, so that the whole edifice was just as shadowy and +unsubstantial as it could well be. But then it is curious to see how +much real torment people manage to extract from visionary troubles. + +While his neighbours were still at Moose Island Mr. Leigh received two +letters from Maurice. The first not only did not contain the usual note +enclosed for Mrs. Costello, but there was not the slightest message to, +or mention of, either her or Lucia. Mr. Leigh examined the letter, +peeped into the envelope, shook the sheets apart (for Maurice's writing +filled much space with few words), but found nothing. The real +explanation of this was simple enough. Maurice had written his note to +Mrs. Costello, and then, just as he was going to put it in the envelope, +was called to his grandfather. In getting up from the table he gave the +note a push, which sent it down into a wastepaper basket. There it lay +unnoticed, and when he came back, just in time to send off his letters, +he fancied, not seeing it, that he had put it into the envelope, which +accordingly he closed and sent to the post without it. But of course +Mr. Leigh knew nothing about this. + +The second letter was equally without enclosure or message, though from +a very different cause. It was scarcely a dozen lines in length, and +only said that Mr. Beresford was dying. Maurice had just received Mrs. +Costello's farewell note; he was feeling angry and grieved, and could +think of no better expedient than to keep silence for the moment, even +if he had had time to renew his expostulations. He had not fully +comprehended the secret Mrs. Costello entrusted to him, but in the +preoccupations of the moment, he put off all concerns but those of the +dying man until he should have more leisure to attend to them. Thus, by +a double chance, Mr. Leigh was allowed to persuade himself that Maurice +had either never had any absorbing interest in the Costellos, or that +his interest in them was being gradually supplanted by others. In this +opinion, and in a curiously uncomfortable and contradictory humour, his +friends found him when they came back from the island. + +Mrs. Costello, on her part, had been entirely unable to keep Maurice out +of her thoughts. As Christian's death, and all the agitation consequent +upon it, settled back into the past, she had plenty of leisure and +plenty of temptation to revert to her old hopes and schemes. Half +consciously she had allowed herself to build up a charming fabric of +possibilities. _Possibly_ Maurice might write and say, "It is Lucia I +love, Lucia I want to marry. It matters nothing to me what her father is +or was." (Quixotic and not-to-be-counted-upon piece of generosity!) +_Possibly_ she herself might then be justified in answering, "The +accusation brought against her father has been proved false--my child is +stainless--and you have proved your right to her;" and it was +impossible, she believed, that Lucia, hearing all the truth, should not +be touched as they would have her. + +These imaginations, built upon such ardent and long-indulged wishes, +acquired a considerable degree of strength during her visit to Mr. +Strafford; and although a little surprised at not receiving, during her +stay there, the usual weekly note from Maurice which she had calculated +would cross her last important letter on the way, she came home eager to +see Mr. Leigh, and to hear from him the last news from England. + +But when she had paid her visit to her old neighbour, she came back +puzzled, disappointed, and slightly indignant. There was an air of +constraint about Mr. Leigh, especially when he spoke of Maurice, which +was so entirely new as to appear a great deal more significant than it +really was; and this, added to the fact that two letters had been +received, one written before, and the other after the arrival of hers, +neither of which contained so much as a message for her or Lucia, +suddenly suggested to Mrs. Costello that she was a very foolish woman +who was still wasting her wishes and thoughts on plans, the time for +which had gone by, instead of following steadily, and without +hesitation, what her reason told her was the best and most sensible +course. She so far convinced herself that it was time to give up +thinking of Lucia's marriage to Maurice, as to be really in earnest both +in completing her preparations for leaving Canada, and in rejoicing at +the receipt of a letter from her cousin expressing his perfect approval +of her decision to return to Europe. + +This letter even Lucia could not help acknowledge to be thoroughly kind +and kinsmanlike. Mr. Wynter proposed to meet them at Havre, and, if +possible, accompany them to Paris. + +"If you are travelling alone," he said, "I may be of service to you; and +since you have decided on going to France, I should like to see you +comfortably settled there. By that means, too, we shall have plenty of +time to talk over whatever arrangements you wish made with regard to +your daughter. However, I have great hopes that when you find yourself +away from the places where you have suffered so much, and near your own +people, you will grow quite strong again." + +There were messages from his wife and daughters, in conclusion, which +seemed to promise that they also would be ready to welcome their unknown +relatives. + +"Blood is thicker than water." Mrs. Costello began to feel that the one +secure asylum for Lucia, in her probable orphanhood, would be in the old +house by the Dee. + +The next time she saw Mr. Leigh, she told him her plans quite frankly. +She did so with some suspicion of his real feelings, only that in spite +of their long acquaintance she did him the injustice to fancy that he +would, for reasons of his own, be glad that Lucia should be out of +Maurice's way if he returned to Canada. She supposed that he had, on +reflection, begun to shrink from the idea of a half-Indian +daughter-in-law, and while she confessed to herself that the feeling +was, according to ordinary custom, reasonable enough, she was at heart +extremely angry that it should be entertained. + +"My beautiful Lucia!" she said to herself indignantly; "as if she were +not ten times more lovely, and a thousand times more worth loving, than +any of those well-born, daintily brought up, pretty dolls, that Lady +Dighton is likely to find for him! I did think better of Maurice. But, +of course, it is all right enough. I had no right to expect him to be +more than mortal." + +And Lucia went on in the most perfect unconsciousness of all the +troubled thoughts circling round her. She spoke honestly of her regret +at leaving Canada when, perhaps, Maurice might so soon be there, though +she kept to herself the hopes which made her going so much less sad than +it would have been otherwise. She was extremely busy, for Mrs. Costello, +now that she thought no more of returning to the Cottage, had decided to +sell it; all their possessions, therefore, had to be divided into three +parts, the furniture to be sold with the house, their more personal +belongings to go with them, and various books and knickknacks to be left +as keepsakes with their friends. It was generally known now all over +Cacouna that Mrs. Costello was going "home," in order that Lucia might +be near her relations in case of "anything happening,"--a thing nobody +doubted the probability of, who saw the change made during the last few +months in their grave and quiet neighbour. They were a little vague in +their information about these relations, but that was a matter of +secondary importance; and as the mother and daughter were really very +much liked by their neighbours, they were quite overwhelmed with +invitations and visits. + +So the days passed on quickly; and for the second time, the one fixed +for their journey was close at hand. One more letter had arrived from +Maurice, containing the news of his grandfather's death. It was short, +like the previous one, and almost equally hurried. He said that he was +struggling through the flood of business brought upon him by his +accession to estates so large, and till lately so zealously cared for by +their possessor. As soon as ever he could get away, he meant to start +for Canada; and as the time of his doing so depended only on his +success in hurrying on certain affairs which were already in hand, his +father might expect him by any mail except the first after his letter +arrived. There was no message to Mrs. Costello in this note, but, on the +other side of the half sheet which held the conclusion of it, was a +postscript hastily scrawled, + +"Tell Mrs. Costello to remember the last talk we had together, and to +believe that I am obstinate." + +This postscript, however, Mr. Leigh in his excitement and joy at the +prospect of so soon seeing his son, never found out. He read the letter +twice over, and then put it away in his desk, without even remembering +at the moment, to wonder at Maurice's continued silence towards his old +friends. The thought did strike him afterwards, but he was quite certain +that he had read every word of the letter, and was only confirmed in the +ideas he had begun to entertain. He sighed over these ideas, and over +the loss of Lucia, whom he loved with almost fatherly affection; but +still, even she was infinitely less dear to him than Maurice; and if +Maurice really did not care for her, why then, sooner than throw the +smallest shadow of blame upon him, _he_ would not seem to care for her +either. + +So Mrs. Costello learned that Maurice was coming, and that he had not +thought it worth while to send even a word to his old friends. + +"He is the only one," she thought, "who has changed towards us, and I +trusted him most of all." + +And she took refuge from her disappointment in anger. Her disappointment +and her anger, however, were both silent; she would not say an ill word +to Lucia of Maurice; and Lucia, engrossed in her work and her +anticipations, did not perhaps remark that there was any change. She +made one attempt to persuade her mother to delay their journey until +after Maurice's arrival, but, being reminded that their passage was +taken, she consoled herself with, + +"Well, it will be easy enough for him to come to see us. I suppose +everybody in England goes to Paris sometimes?" + +And so the end came. They had not neglected Maurice's charge, though +Maurice seemed to have forgotten them. Whatever was possible to do to +provide for Mr. Leigh's comfort during his short solitude they had +done. The last farewells were said; Mr. Strafford, who had insisted on +going with them to New York, had arrived at the Cottage. Mrs. Bellairs +and Bella had spent their last day with their friends and gone away in +tears. All their life at Cacouna, with its happiness and its sorrow, was +over, and early next morning they were to cross the river for the last +time, and begin their journey to England. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Maurice had full opportunity for the exercise of patience during the +last weeks of his grandfather's life. It was hard to sit there day after +day watching the half-conscious old man, who lay so still and seemed so +shut out from human feelings or sympathies, and to feel all the while +that any one of those hours of vigil might be the one that stole from +him his heart's desire. Yet there was no alternative. His grandfather, +who had received and adopted him, was suffering and solitary, dependent +wholly on him for what small gratification he could still enjoy. +Gratitude, therefore, and duty kept him here. But _there_, meanwhile, so +far out of his reach, what might be going on? He lived a perfectly +double life. Lucia was in trouble--some inexplicable shadow of disgrace +was threatening her--something so grave that even her mother, who knew +him so well, thought it an unsurmountable barrier between +them--something which looked the more awful from its vagueness and +mystery. It is true that he was only troubled--not discouraged by the +appearance of this phantom. He was as ready to fight for his Una as ever +was Redcross Knight--but then would his Una wait for him? To be forcibly +held back from the combat must have been much worse to a true champion +than any wounds he could receive in fair fight. So at least it seemed to +Maurice, secretly chafing, and then bitterly reproaching himself for his +impatience; yet the next moment growing as impatient as before. + +To him in this mood came Mrs. Costello's last letter. Now at last the +mystery was cleared up, and its impalpable shape reduced to a positive +and ugly reality. Like his father, Maurice found no small difficulty in +understanding and believing the story told to him. That Mrs. Costello, +calm, gentle, and just touched with a quiet stateliness, as he had +always known her, could ever have been an impulsive, romantic girl, so +swayed by passion or by flattery as to have left her father's house and +all the protecting restraints of her English life to follow the fortunes +of an Indian, was an idea so startling that he could not at once accept +it for truth. In Lucia the incongruity struck him less. Her beauty, dark +and magnificent, her fearless nature, her slender erect shape, her free +and graceful movements--all the charms which he had by heart, suited an +Indian origin. He could readily imagine her the daughter of a chief and +a hero. But this was not what he was required to believe. He had read +lately the description of a brutal, half-imbecile savage, who had +committed a peculiarly frightful and revolting murder, and he was told +to recognize in this wretch the father of his darling. But it was just +this which saved him. He would believe that Christian was Mrs. +Costello's husband and Lucia's father, because Mrs. Costello told him so +herself and of her own knowledge--but as for a murder, innocent men were +often accused of that; and when a man is once accused by the popular +voice of a horrible crime, everybody knows how freely appropriate +qualities can be bestowed on him. So the conviction which remained at +the bottom of Maurice's mind, though he never drew it up and looked +steadily at it, was just the truth--that Christian, by some train of +circumstances or other, had been made to bear the weight of another +person's guilt. As to the other question of his giving up Lucia, Maurice +never troubled himself to think about it. He was, it must be confessed, +of a singularly obstinate disposition, and in spite of his legal +training not particularly inclined to listen to reason. Knowing +therefore perfectly well, that he had made up his mind to marry Lucia, +provided she did not deliberately prefer somebody else, he felt it +useless to complicate his already confused ideas any further, by taking +into consideration the expediency of such a connection. There was quite +enough to worry him without that; and by some inconceivable stupidity it +never entered his head that, while he was really so completely incapable +of altering his mind, other people should seriously think he was doing +it. + +Yet as he read Mrs. Costello's letter over a second time, he began to +perceive something in its tone which seemed to say clearly--"Don't +flatter yourself that the matter rests at all with you. I have decided. +I am no longer your ally, but your opponent." At this a new element came +into play--anger. + +He had been rather unreasonable before--now he became utterly so. "A +pretty sort of fellow she must think me, after all," he said to himself. +"I suppose she'd be afraid to trust Lucia to me now. However, if she +thinks I mean to be beaten that way, she'll find that she is mistaken." + +He was walking up and down his room, and working himself up into a +greater ill-humour with every turn he made. + +"If I could only get to Lucia herself," he went on thinking, "I should +see if I could not end the matter at once, one way or the other--that +fellow is clear out of the way now, and I believe I should have a +chance; but as for Mrs. Costello, she seems to think nothing at all of +throwing me over whenever it suits her." + +Poor Maurice! he sat down to write to his father in a miserable +mood--Mr. Beresford had become suddenly and decidedly worse. The doctors +said positively that he was dying, and that a few days at the utmost +would bring the end. Maurice had stolen away while he slept, but his +angry meditation on Mrs. Costello's desertion had taken up so much of +his time, that Mr. Leigh's note was short and hurried. Ill-humour +prevailed also to the point of the note being finished without any +message (he had no time to write separately) to the Cottage. + +His packet despatched, he returned to his grandfather's room. Lady +Dighton, now staying in the house, sat and watched by the bedside; and +by-and-by leaving her post, she joined Maurice by the window and began +to talk to him in a low voice. There was no fear of disturbing the +invalid; his sleep continued, deep and lethargic, the near forerunner of +death. + +"Maurice," Lady Dighton said, "I wish you would go out for an hour. You +are not really wanted here, and you look worn out." + +"Thank you, I am all right. My grandfather might wake and miss me." + +"Go for a little while. Half an hour's gallop would do you good." + +Maurice laughed impatiently. + +"Why should I want doing good to? It is you, I should think, who ought +to go out." + +"I was out yesterday. Are you still anxious about your father and +Canada?" + +Lady Dighton's straightforward question meant to be answered. + +"Yes," Maurice said rather crossly. "I am anxious and worried." + +"You can do no good by writing?" + +"I seem to do harm. Don't talk to me about it, Louisa. Nothing but my +being there could have done any good, and now it is most likely too +late." + +She saw plainly enough the fight that was going on--impatience, +eagerness, selfishness of a kind, on one side--duty and compassion on +the other. She had no scruple about seeing just as much of her cousin's +humour as his looks and manner could tell her, and she perceived that at +the moment it was anything but a good or heroic one. She thought it +possible that it would have been a relief to him to have struck, or +shaken, or even kicked something or somebody; and yet she was not at all +tempted to think the worse of him. She did not understand, of course, +the late aggravations of his trouble; but she knew that he loved loyally +and thought his love in danger, and she gave him plenty of sympathy, +whatever that might be worth. She had obtained a considerable amount of +influence over him, and used it, in general, for his good. At present he +was in rather an unmanageable mood, but still she did not mean to let +him escape her. + +"He looks dreadfully worried, poor boy!" she said to herself. "Being +shut up here day after day must be bad for him. I shall _make_ Sir John +take him out to-morrow." + +But when to-morrow came, and Sir John paid his daily visit to his wife, +she had other things to think about. He found the servants lingering +about the halls and staircases in silent excitement, and in the sick +room a little group watching, as they stood round the bed, for the old +man's final falling asleep. + +He had been conscious early in the morning, and spoken to both his +grandchildren; but gradually, so very gradually that they could not say +"he changed at such an hour," the heavy rigidity of death closed upon +his already paralysed limbs, and his eyes grew dimmer. It was a very +quiet peaceful closing of a long life, which, except that it had been +sometimes hard and proud, had passed in usefulness and honour. And so, +towards sunset, some one said, "He is gone," and laid a hand gently upon +the stiffening eyelids. + +Sir John took his wife away to her room, and there she leaned her head +against his shoulder and cried, not very bitterly, but with real +affection for her grandfather. Maurice went away also, very grave, and +thinking tenderly of the many kind words and deeds which had marked the +months of his stay at Hunsdon. And yet within half an hour, Lady Dighton +was talking to her husband quite calmly about some home affairs which +interested him; and Maurice had begun to calculate how soon he could get +away for that long-deferred six weeks' absence. + +But, of course, although they could not keep their thoughts prisoners, +these mourners, who were genuine mourners after their different degrees, +were constrained to observe the decorous, quiet, and interregnum of all +ordinary occupation, which custom demands after a death. Lady Dighton +returned home next day, hidden in her carriage, and went to shut herself +up in her own house until the funeral. Maurice remained at Hunsdon, +where he was now master, and spent his days in the library writing +letters, or trying to make plans for his future, and it was then that +the letter with his lost message to Mrs. Costello was sent off. + +Yet the space between Mr. Beresford's death and his funeral was to his +heir a tedious and profitless blank. He had till now been kept here by +living powers, gratitude and reverence; death came, and handed his +custody over to cold but tyrannous propriety. Now he rebelled with all +his heart, and spent hours of each solitary day in pacing backwards and +forwards the whole space of the great dim room which seemed a prison to +him. + +The day before the funeral broke this stillness, two or three gentlemen, +distant relations or old friends of his grandfather, came to Hunsdon, +and towards evening there arrived the family solicitor, Mr. Payne. At +dinner that day Maurice had to take his new position as host. It was, as +suited the circumstances, a grave quiet party, but still there was +something about the manner of the guests, and even in the fact of their +being _his_ guests, which was unconsciously consoling to Maurice as +being a guarantee of his freedom and independence. Next morning the +house was all sombre bustle and preparation. Lady Dighton and her +husband arrived. She, to have one last look at the dead, he to join +Maurice in the office of mourner; and at twelve o'clock, the long +procession wound slowly away through the park, and the great house stood +emptied of the old life and ready for the commencement of the new one. + +The new one began, indeed, after those who had followed Mr. Beresford +to the grave had come back, and assembled in the great unused +drawing-room to hear the will read. Lady Dighton shivered as she sat by +one of the newly-lighted fires, and bending over to Maurice whispered to +him, "For heaven's sake keep the house warmer than poor grandpapa used +to do." + +"Used" already! The new life had begun. + +There was nothing in the will but what was pretty generally known. Mr. +Beresford had made no secret of his intentions even with regard to +legacies. There was one to his granddaughter, with certain jewels and +articles which had peculiar value for her; some to old friends, some to +servants, and the whole remainder of his possessions real and personal +to Maurice Leigh, on the one condition of his assuming the name and arms +of Beresford. + +It was a very satisfactory will. Maurice, in his impatience, thought its +chief virtue was that it contained nothing which could hinder him from +starting at once for Canada. He told Mr. Payne that he wished to see him +for a short time that evening; and after the other guests had gone to +bed, the two sat down together by the library fire to settle, as he +fancied, whatever small arrangements must be made before his going. + +He soon found out his mistake. In the first place the solicitor, who had +a powerful and hereditary interest in the affairs of Hunsdon, was +shocked beyond expression at the idea of such a voyage being undertaken +at all. Here, he would have said if he had spoken his thoughts, was a +young man just come into a fine estate, a magnificent estate in fact, +and one of the finest positions in the country, and the very first thing +he thinks of, is to hurry off on a long sea-voyage to a half-barbarous +country, without once stopping to consider that if he were to be +drowned, or killed in a railway accident, or lost in the woods, the +estate might fall into Chancery, or at the best go to a woman. Mr. Payne +mentally trembled at such rashness, and he expressed enough of the +horror he felt, to make Maurice aware that it really was a less simple +matter than he had supposed, and that his new fortunes had their claims +and drawbacks. Mr. Payne followed up his first blow with others. He +immediately began to ask, "If you go, what do you wish done in such a +case?" And the cases were so many that Maurice, in spite of the +knowledge Mr. Beresford had made him acquire of his affairs, became +really puzzled and harassed. Finally, he saw that a delay of a week +would be inevitable; and the solicitor, having gained the day so far, +relented, and allowed him to hope that after a week's application to +business, he would be in a position to please himself. + +Next day Maurice was left alone at Hunsdon. He wrote his last letter to +his father, and being determined to follow it himself so shortly, he +sent no message to the Costellos. Then he set to work hard and steadily +to clear the way for his departure. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +One day Maurice rode over to Dighton, and told his cousin he was come to +say good-bye. She was not, of course, surprised to hear that he was +really going, but she could not help expressing her wonder at the +lightness with which he spoke of a journey of so many thousand miles. + +"You talk of going to Canada," she said, "just as I should talk of going +to Paris--as if it were an affair of a few hours." + +"If it were six times as far," he answered, "it would make no difference +to me, except that I should be more impatient to start; and yet most +likely when I get there I shall find my journey useless." + +Somehow or other there had come to be a tolerably clear understanding, +on Lady Dighton's part, of the state of affairs between Maurice and +Lucia--she knew that Maurice was intent upon finding his old playfellow, +and winning her if possible at once. She naturally took the part of her +new favourite; and believed that if Lucia were really what he described +her, she would easily be persuaded to come to Hunsdon as its mistress; +for, of course, she knew of no other barrier between the young people +than that of Maurice's newly acquired importance. She thought Mrs. +Costello had acted in a prudent and dignified manner in wishing to +separate them; but she also thought, in rather a contradictory fashion, +that since Maurice was intent upon the marriage, he ought to have his +own way. So she was quite disposed to encourage him with auguries of +success. + +"They are not likely to be in any hurry to begin a sea-voyage such +weather as this," she said, shivering. "Two ladies, even if they are +Canadians, can't make quite so light of it as you do." + +"I wish you may be right," he answered; "but if I should not find them +there, I shall bring my father to England and then go off in search of +them. A pretty prospect! They may lead me all over Europe before I find +them." + +Lady Dighton laughed outright. + +"One would suppose that telegraphs and railways were not in existence," +she said, "and that you had to set out, like a knight-errant, with +nothing but a horse and a sword to recover your runaway lady-love." + +Maurice felt slightly offended, but thought better of it, and laughed +too. + +"I shall find them, no fear," he answered; "but when? and where?" + +Next morning he left Hunsdon, and went to London. The moment he was +really moving, his spirits rose, and his temper, which had been +considerably disturbed lately, recovered itself. He scarcely stopped at +all, till he found himself that afternoon at the door of the solicitor's +office, where he had some affairs to attend to. + +He got out of his cab and to the lawyer's door, as if everything +depended on his own personal speed; but just as he went up the steps, +the door opened, and a clerk appeared, showing a gentleman out. Even in +the midst of Maurice's hurry, something familiar in the figure struck +him; he looked again--it was Percy. They recognized each other; at the +same moment, by a common impulse, they saluted each other ceremoniously +and passed on their different ways. + +Maurice was expected, and he found Mr. Payne ready to receive him. +Instead, however, of plunging at once into business as, a minute ago, he +was prepared to do, he asked abruptly. "Is Mr. Percy a client of yours?" + +"I can hardly say that," the lawyer answered, surprised by the question. + +"I met him going out," Maurice went on. + +Mr. Payne rubbed his hands. + +"It is no secret," he said; "I may tell you, I suppose. He called about +some points in a marriage settlement." + +Maurice felt his heart give a great leap. + +"Whose?" he asked sharply. + +Mr. Payne again looked surprised. + +"His own, certainly. He is going to marry a daughter of the Earl of +C----, and I had the honour of being employed by the late Countess's +family, from whom her ladyship derives what fortune she has. It is not +very large," he added, dropping from his dignified tone into a more +confidential one. + +Maurice was silent for a minute. His sensations were curious; divided +between joy that Lucia was certainly free in _this_ quarter, and a +vehement desire to knock down, horsewhip, or otherwise ill-use the +Honourable Edward Percy. Of course, this was a savage impulse, only +worthy of a half-civilized backwoodsman, but happily he kept it down out +of sight, and his companion filled up the pause. + +"The marriage is to take place in a week. The engagement has been +hastily got up, they say, at last; though there was some talk of it a +year ago. He does not seem particularly eager about it now." + +"What is he marrying her for?" was Maurice's next question, put with an +utter disregard of all possibilities of sentiment in the matter--the man +whom Lucia _might_ have loved could not but be indifferent to all other +women. + +"It's not a bad match," Mr. Payne answered, putting his head on one side +as if to consider it critically. "Not much money, but a good +connection--excellent." + +Whereupon they dismissed Percy and his affairs, and went to work. + +Late that night, for no reason but because he could not rest in London, +Maurice started for Liverpool. The steamer did not sail till afternoon, +and there would have been plenty of time for him to go down in the +morning; but he chose do otherwise, and consequently found himself in +the streets of Liverpool in the miserable cold darkness of the winter +dawn. Of course, there was nothing to be done then, but go to a hotel +and get some breakfast and such warmth as was to be had. He felt cross +and miserable, and half wished he had stayed in London. + +However the fire burnt up, breakfast came, and the dingy fog began to +roll away a little from before the windows. He went out and walked about +the city. He stared at the public buildings without seeing them; then at +the shop-windows, till he suddenly found himself in front of a +jeweller's, and it occurred to him that he would go in and buy a ring +which would fit a slender finger in case of need. He went in +accordingly, and after looking at some dozens, at last fixed upon one. +He knew the exact size, for he had once taken a ring of Lucia's and +tried to put it on his little finger; it would not go over the middle +joint, but persisted in sticking fast just where the one he bought +stopped. It was a magnificent little affair--almost enough to bribe a +girl to say "Yes" for the pleasure of wearing it, and Maurice +congratulated himself on the happy inspiration. Being in a tempting +shop, he also bethought himself of carrying out with him some trifling +gifts for his old friends; and by the time he had finished his +selection, he found to his great satisfaction that he might return to +the hotel for his luggage, and go on board ship at once. + +The small steamer which was to carry the passengers out to the 'India' +was already beginning to take on her load when Maurice arrived. The fog, +which had partially cleared away in the town, lay heavy and brown over +the river; the wet dirty deck, the piles of luggage, and groups of +people were all muffled in it, and looked shapeless and miserable in the +gloom. Hurry and apparent confusion were to be seen everywhere, but only +for a short time. The loading was soon completed, and they moved away +into the river. + +Then came another transfer--passengers, trunks, mail-bags all poured on +to the 'India's' deck. Last farewells were said--friends parted, some +for a few weeks, some for ever--the great paddles began to move, and the +voyage was begun. + +As they went down the river, snow began to fall. It filled the air and +covered the deck with wet, slowly moving flakes, and the water which +swallowed it up all round the ship looked duller and darker by contrast. +Everybody went below, most people occupied themselves with arranging +their possessions so as to be most comfortable during the voyage; +Maurice, who had few possessions to arrange, took out that morning's +_Times_, and sat down to read. + +The first two or three days of a voyage are generally nearly a blank to +landsmen. Maurice was no exception to the rule. Even Lucia commanded +only a moderate share of his thoughts till England and Ireland were +fairly out of sight, and the 'India' making her steady course over the +open ocean. Then he began to watch the weather as eagerly as if the +ship's speed and safety had depended on his care. Every day he went, the +moment the notice was put up, to see what progress they had made since +the day before, and, according as their rate of movement was slower or +faster, his day and night were serene or disturbed. + +The number of passengers was small. With what there were he soon formed +the kind of acquaintance which people shut up together for a certain +time generally make with each other. Everybody was eager for the +conclusion of the voyage, for the weather, though on the whole fine, was +intensely cold, and only the bravest or hardiest could venture to spend +much time on deck. Down below every device for killing time was in +requisition; but in spite of all, the question, "When shall we reach New +York?" was discussed over and over again; and each indication of their +voyage being by a few hours shorter than they had a right to expect, was +hailed with the greatest delight. + +One day when they were really near the end of their voyage, Maurice and +a fellow-passenger, a young man of about his own age, were walking +briskly up and down the deck, trying to keep themselves warm, and +talking of Canada, to which they were both bound. A sailor who had come +for some purpose to the part of the deck where they were, suddenly +called their attention to a curl of smoke far off on the horizon; it was +something homeward bound, he said--he could not tell what, but they +would most likely pass near each other. + +The two young men had been thinking of going down, but the idea of +meeting a ship of any kind was sufficient excitement to keep them on +deck. They continued their walk, stopping every now and then to watch +the smoke as it grew more and more distinct. Presently the steamer +itself became visible, and other persons began to assemble and guess +what steamer it could be and how long it would be before they passed +each other. Meanwhile the stranger came nearer and nearer; at last it +could be recognized--the 'Atalanta,' from New York to Havre. Maurice +borrowed a glass from one of the officers, and, going a little apart +from the group on the deck of the 'India,' set himself to examine that +of the 'Atalanta.' A sudden feeling of dismay had seized upon him. He +had no more reason to suppose that Lucia was on board this steamer than +he had to believe that she had sailed a week ago, or that she was still +at Cacouna, and yet a horrible certainty took possession of him that, if +he could only get on board that ship, so tantalizingly close at hand and +yet so utterly inaccessible, he should find her there. He strained his +eyes in the vain effort to distinguish her figure. He almost stamped +with disappointment when he found that the distance was too great, or +his glass not sufficiently powerful, for the forms he could just see, to +be recognizable; and as the two steamers passed on, and the distance +between them grew every moment greater, he hurried down to his cabin, +not caring that any one should see how disturbed he was. He threw +himself upon his little sofa, thinking. + +"I wonder if she suspected I was so near her. I wonder whether she +looked for me as I looked for her. Not _as_ I did, of course, for she is +everything to me, and I am only an old friend to her; but yet I think +she would have been sorry to miss me by so little. + +"What an idiot I am! when I have not even the smallest notion whether +she could be on board or not. Very likely I shall find them still at the +dear old Cottage." + +But after his soliloquy he shook his head in a disconsolate manner, and +betook himself to a novel by way of distraction. + +Two more days and they reached New York. They got in early in the +morning, and Maurice, the moment he found himself on shore, hurried to +the railway station. On inquiry there, however, he found that to start +immediately would be, in fact, rather to lose, than to gain time. A +train starting that evening would be his speediest conveyance; and for +that he resolved to wait. He then turned to a telegraph office, +intending to send a message to his father, but on second thoughts +abandoned that idea also, considering that Mr. Leigh already expected +him, and that further warning could do no good and might do harm. + +He spent the day, he scarcely knew how. He dined somewhere, and read the +newspapers. He found himself out in the middle of reading with the +greatest appearance of interest an article copied from the _Times_ which +he had read in England weeks before. He looked perpetually at his watch, +and when, at last, he found that his train would be due in half an hour, +he started up in the greatest haste, and drove to the station as if he +had not a moment to spare. + +What a Babel the car seemed when he did get into it! There were numbers +of women and children, not a few babies. It was bitterly cold, and +everybody was anxious to settle themselves at once for the night. +Everybody was talking, sitting down, and getting up again, turning the +seats backwards and forwards to suit their parties, or their fancies, +soothing the shivering, crying children, or discussing the probability +of being impeded by the snow. But when the train was fairly in motion, +when the conductor had made his progress through the cars, when +everybody had got their tickets, and there was no more to be done, all +subsided gradually into a dull sleepy quiet, broken occasionally by a +child's cry, but still undisturbed enough to let those passengers who +did not care to sleep, think in peace. + +Maurice thought, uselessly, but persistently. He thought of the past, +when he had been quite happy, looking forward to a laborious life with +Lucia to brighten it. He thought of the future which must now have one +of two aspects--either cold, matter-of-fact and solitary, in the great +empty house at Hunsdon without Lucia, or bright and perfect beyond even +his former dreams, in that same great old house with her. He meant to +win her, however, sooner or later, and the real trouble which he feared +at present was nothing worse than delay. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Mrs. Costello and Lucia found their journey from Cacouna to New York a +very melancholy one. They had gone through so much already, that change +and travel had no power to stimulate their overstrained nerves to any +further excitement; the time of reaction had begun, and a sort of +languid indifference, which was in itself a misery, seemed to have taken +possession of them. Even Lucia's spirits, generally strong both for +enjoyment or for suffering, were completely subdued; she sat by the +window of the car looking out at the wintry landscape all day long, yet +saw nothing, or remembered nothing that she had seen. Once or twice she +thought, "Perhaps in a few days more, Maurice will be passing over this +very line; he will be disappointed when he reaches home and finds that +we are gone;" but all her meditations were dreamy and unreal--her mind +acted mechanically. A kind of moral catalepsy benumbed her. Afterwards +when she remembered this time, she wondered at herself; she could not +comprehend the absence of sensation with which she had left the dear +home and all the familiar objects of her whole life, the incapability of +feeling either keen sorrow at the parting, or hope in the unknown +future. The days they spent in hurrying hour by hour further away from +Canada, always remained in her recollection little more than a blank, +and she scarcely seemed to recover herself until Mr. Strafford touched +her gently on the shoulder, late in the evening and said, + +"New York at last, Lucia." + +She got up then, in a hurried, confused way, and looked at her mother +helplessly. + +Mrs. Costello, though to some degree she had shared Lucia's stunned +feeling during their journey, had watched her child with considerable +anxiety, and was glad of any change in her manner. She hastened to leave +the train, thinking that the few hours' rest they would have before +going on board the steamer would be the best remedy for this strange +torpor. They found, however, when they reached the Hotel and went to +bed, that weary as they were, they could not sleep. The unaccustomed +noise of the city--the mere sensation of being in a strange place, kept +them both waking, and they were glad to get up early, and go down to the +vast empty drawing-room where Mr. Stafford could join them for the last +time, and talk of the subjects which were near the hearts of all three. +And yet, after all, they did not talk much. Those last hours which are +so precious, and in which we seem to have so much to say, are often +silent ones. + +The great house, like a city in itself, with its wide passages and +halls, and groups of strangers passing constantly to and fro, had +something dismal and desert like about it. Even the drawing-room was so +large and so destitute of anything like a snug corner where people could +be comfortable, that there was little chance of forgetting that they +were mere wayfarers. When the gong had sounded, and everybody assembled +for breakfast, the vast dining-room, coldly magnificent in white and +gold, and all astir with white jacketed waiters, seemed stranger and +more unhomelike still. Everything was novel, but for once novelty only +wearied instead of charming. + +By noon they were on board the steamer. Mr. Strafford went on board with +them and stayed till the last minute. But that soon came. The final +good-bye was said; the last link to Canada and Canadian life was broken. +They stood on deck and strained their eyes to watch the fast +disappearing figure till it was gone, and they felt themselves alone. +Then the vessel began to move out of the harbour, and night seemed to +come on all at once. + +They went down together to their cabin, and seated themselves side by +side in a desolate companionship. After a minute Lucia put her arms +tightly round her mother, and laying her head upon her shoulder, cried, +not passionately, but with a complete abandonment of all self-restraint. +Mrs. Costello did not try to check those natural and restoring tears. +She soothed her child by fond motherly touches, kissed her cheek or +smoothed her hair, but said not a word until the whole dull weight that +had been pressing on her had melted away. There was something strangely +forlorn in their circumstances which both felt, and neither liked to +speak of to the other. Leaving behind all the friends, all the +associations of so many years, they were going alone--a feeble and +perhaps dying woman, and a young girl--into a strange world, where every +face would be new, and even their own language would grow unfamiliar to +their ears. Even the hope which had brightened this prospect to Lucia's +eyes, looked very dim, now that the time for proving it was at hand; and +of all others, the person who occupied her tenderest if not her most +frequent thoughts was the one who best deserved that she should think of +him--Maurice Leigh. + +Two days of their voyage passed without events. They began to feel +accustomed to their ship-life, and to make some little acquaintance with +other passengers. In spite of the cold, Lucia spent a good many hours on +deck. She used to go with Mrs. Costello every morning for a few quick +turns up and down, and then, when her mother was tired, she would wrap +herself up in the warmest cloaks and shawls that she could find, and +take her seat in a quiet corner, where she could lose sight of all that +went on about her and, with her face turned towards Canada, see nothing +but the boundless sea and sky. On the third day she was sitting in this +manner. There were a good many persons on deck but she was left +tolerably undisturbed. Occasionally a lady would stop and speak to +her--the men, who were not altogether blind to her beauty, would have +liked perhaps to do the same, if her preoccupied air had not made a kind +of barrier about her, too great to be broken through without more +warrant than a two days' chance association; but she was thinking or +dreaming, and never troubled herself about them. + +The day was very bright, and there was a ceaseless pleasure in watching +the ripples of the sea as they rose into the cold silvery sunlight and +then passed on into the shadow of the ship; or in tracing far away, the +broad even track marked by edges of tiny bubbles, where the vessel's +course had been. Gradually she became aware through her abstraction of a +greater stir and buzz of conversation on the deck behind her; she +turned, and seeing everybody looking in one direction, rose and looked +too. A lady standing beside her said, + +"It is the Cunard steamer for New York. We think there are some friends +of ours on board, but I am afraid we shall not pass near enough to find +out." + +"Oh, how I wish we could!" Lucia answered, now thoroughly roused, for +the idea that Maurice also might be on board suddenly flashed into her +mind. + +She leaned forward over the railing of the deck, and caught sight of the +'India' coming quickly in the opposite direction, and could even +distinguish the black mass of her passengers assembled like those of the +'Atalanta' to watch the passing vessel. But that was all. Telescopes and +even opera-glasses were being handed from one to another, but she was +too shy to ask for the loan of one, though she longed for it, just for a +moment. Certainly it would have been useless. At that very time Maurice, +standing on the 'India's' deck, was straining his eyes to catch but one +glimpse of her, and all in vain. Fate had decided that they were to pass +each other unseen. + +But this little incident made Lucia sadder and more dreamy--more unlike +herself--than before. The voyage was utterly monotonous. In spite of the +season, the weather was calm and generally fine; and they made good +progress. The days when an unbroken expanse of sea lay round them were +not many, and on the second Sunday afternoon land was already in sight. +That day was unusually mild. Mrs. Costello and Lucia came up together +about two o'clock, and, after walking up and down for some time, they +sat down to watch the distant misty line which they might have thought a +cloud on the horizon, but which was gradually growing nearer and more +distinct. + +While they sat, a single bird came flying from the land. Its wings +gleamed like silver in the sunlight, and as it came, flying now higher, +now lower, but always towards the ship, they saw that it was no +sea-bird, but a white pigeon--pure white, without spot or tinge of +colour, like the glittering snow of Canada. It came quite near--it flew +slowly and gracefully round the ship--two or three times, it circled +round and round, and at last alighted on the rigging. There it rested, +till, as the sunlight quite faded away and the distant line of land +disappeared, it took flight again and vanished in the darkness. + +Perhaps the strong elasticity of youth and hope in Lucia's nature had +only waited for some chance touch to set it free, and make it spring up +vigorously after its repression. At any rate she found a fanciful omen +in the visit of the snow-white bird; and began to believe that in the +new country and the new life, there might be as much that was good and +happy as in the old one. The last hours, full of excitement and +impatience as the voyage drew to a close, were not unpleasant ones. Very +early one morning a great commotion and a babel of unusual sounds on +deck awoke the travellers, and the stewardess going from room to room +brought the welcome news, + +"We are at Havre." + +Lucia was up in a moment. The stillness of the vessel, after its +perpetual motion, gave her an odd sensation, not unlike what she had +felt when it first began to move; but she was quickly dressed and on +deck. There were a good many people there, and the water all round was +alive with boats and shipping of every description, but Lucia's eyes +naturally turned from the more familiar objects to the unfamiliar and +welcome sight of land. + +A strange land, truly! The solid quays, the masses of building, older +than anything (except forest-trees) which she had ever seen, the quaint +dresses of the peasants already moving about in the early morning, all +struck her with pleased and vivid interest. For the wider features of +the scene she had at first no thought. Nature is everywhere the same, +through all her changes. To those who love her she is never wholly +unrecognizable, and when we meet her in company with new phases of human +life, we are apt to treat her as the older friend, and let her wait +until we have greeted the stranger. At least, Lucia did so. She had +indeed only time for a hurried survey, for their packing had to be +completed by her hands; and she knew that the arrival of the ship would +soon be known, and that if Mr. Wynter had kept his promise of meeting +them, he might appear at any moment. She went down, therefore, and found +Mrs. Costello dressing with hurried and trembling fingers, too much +agitated by the prospect of meeting her cousin, after so long and +strange a separation, to be capable of attending to anything. + +All was done, however, before they were interrupted. They wrapped +themselves up warmly, for the morning was intensely cold through all its +brightness, and went up on deck together. Lucia found a seat in a +sheltered place for Mrs. Costello, and stood near her watching the +constant stream of coming and going between the ship and the shore. They +had nothing to do for the present but wait, and when they had satisfied +themselves that, as yet, there was no sign of Mr. Wynter's arrival, +they had plenty of time to grow better acquainted with the view around +them. + +The long low point of land beside which they lay; the town in front, +with a flood of cold sunlight resting on its low round tower, and the +white sugar-loaf shaped monument, which was once the sailor's +landmark--the lofty chapel piously dedicated to Notre Dame de Bons +Secours now superseding it--the broad mouth of the Seine and the Norman +shore, bending away to the right--all these photographed themselves on +Lucia's memory as the first-seen features of that new world where her +life was henceforth to be passed. + +At last, when nearly all their fellow-passengers had bidden them +good-bye and left the ship, they saw a gentleman coming on board whom +they both felt by some instinct to be Mr. Wynter. He was a portly, +white-bearded man, as strange to Mrs. Costello as to Lucia, for the last +twenty years had totally changed him from the aspect she remembered and +had described to her daughter. Perhaps his nature as well as his looks +had grown more genial; at any rate, he had a warm and affectionate +greeting for the strangers, and if he had any painful or embarrassing +recollection such as agitated his cousin, he knew how perfectly to +conceal them. He had arrived the day before, but on arriving had heard +that the 'Atalanta' was not expected for twenty-four hours, so that the +news of her being in port came to him quite unexpectedly. He explained +all this as they stood on deck, and then hurried to see their luggage +brought up, and to transfer them to the carriage he had brought from his +hotel. + +Lucia felt herself happily released from her cares. She had no +inclination to like, or depend upon, her future guardian; but without +thinking about it, she allowed him to take the management of their +affairs, and to fall into the same place as Mr. Strafford had occupied +during their American journey. + +Only there was a difference; she was awake now, and hopeful, naturally +pleased with all that was new and curious, and only kept from thorough +light-heartedness by her mother's feeble and fatigued condition. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Mrs. Costello seemed to grow stronger from the moment of their landing. +Mr. Wynter decided without any hesitation that they should remain at +Havre, at least until the next day. In the evening, therefore, they were +sitting quietly together when the important question of a future +residence for the mother and daughter came to be discussed. + +"I should like Lucia to see something of Paris," Mrs. Costello said, +"and to do that we should be obliged to stay a considerable time; for, +as you perceive, I am not strong enough to do much sight-seeing at +present." + +"I see," Mr. Wynter answered, nodding gravely. "We might get you a nice +little apartment there, and settle you for the winter; that would be +the best plan. I suppose you don't mind cold?" + +"That depends entirely on the sort of cold. Yes; I think we should +settle in Paris for a time, and then move into the country. Only I have +a great fancy not to be more than a day's journey from England." + +"In which I sympathize with you. It will be very much more satisfactory +to me to know that you are within a reasonable distance of us." + +Lucia sat and listened very contentedly to the talk of the elder people. +To her, whose only experience of relationship, beyond her mother, was +painful and mortifying, there was something she had not anticipated of +novelty and comfort in this new state of affairs. Her cousin's tone of +kinsmanship and friendliness was so genuine and unforced that she and +her mother both accepted it naturally, and forgot for the moment that, +to a little-minded man, such friendliness might have been difficult and +perhaps impossible. + +They decided to start for Paris next morning, Mr. Wynter saying that he +had arranged for a week's absence from England, and therefore would have +plenty of time to see them fixed in their new residence before he left. +Then the conversation glided to other subjects, and Lucia losing her +interest in it, began to wonder where Percy was--whether they were again +on the same continent--whether he would hear, through the Bellairs, of +their movements--whether he thought of her. And from that point she went +off in some indescribable maze of dreams, recollections, and wishes, +through which there came, as if from a distance, the sound of voices +talking about England--about Chester--about her mother's old home and +old friends--and about her young cousins, the Wynters, and a visit they +were to make to France when spring should have set in. + +In the midst of all, the sound of a great clock striking broke the +stillness of the snowy streets, and, just after, a party of men passed, +singing a clamorous French song, and stamping an accompaniment with +their heavy shoes. Lucia smiled as she listened, and then sighed. In +truth this was a new life, into which nothing of the old one could come +except love and memory. + +Of course, they could not sleep that night. They missed the motion of +the ship, which had lately lulled them; they could not shake off the +impression of strangeness and feel sufficiently at home to forget +themselves; and to Lucia, used to the healthy sleep of eighteen, this +was a much more serious matter than to one who had kept as many vigils +as Mrs. Costello. They appeared, therefore, in the morning to have +changed characters; Lucia was pale and tired, Mrs. Costello seemed +bright and refreshed. + +The rapid and uneventful journey to Paris ended, for the present, their +wanderings. When, on the following day, they started out in search of +apartments, Mrs. Costello looked round her in astonishment. More than +twenty years ago she had really known something of the city; now there +only seemed to be, here and there, an old landmark left to prove that it +was not altogether a new and strange place. Lucia was delighted with +everything. She no sooner saw the long line of the Champs Elysées than +she declared that there, and nowhere else, their rooms must be found. + +"In the city, mamma," she said, "you could not breathe; and as for +sleeping, you know what it was last night; and if we went further out, +we should see nothing." + +Mrs. Costello was too pleased to see her daughter looking and speaking +with something of her old liveliness to be inclined to oppose her +fancies, only she said with a smile, + +"The Champs Elysées is expensive--remember that, Lucia--and I am going +to make you keeper of the purse." + +"Very well, mamma, if it is too dear, of course there is no more to be +said; but you don't object to our trying to get something here, do you?" + +"Decidedly not. Let us try by all means." + +They found apartments readily enough; but to find any suited to their +means was, as Mrs. Costello anticipated, anything but an easy matter. +Lucia began, before the morning was over, to realize the fact that their +£400 a year, which had been a perfectly comfortable income in Canada, +would require very careful management to afford them at all a suitable +living in Paris. + +"It is only for a little while, though," she consoled herself. "In +summer we shall be able to go into the country and find something much +cheaper." + +So they continued their search, and at last found just what they wanted; +though to do so, they had to mount so many stairs that Lucia was afraid +her mother would be exhausted. + +"I do not think this will do, mamma," she said. "I should never dare to +ask you to go out, because when you came in tired, you would have all +this fatigue." + +But the rooms were comfortable and airy, and the difficulties of living +"au cinquième" were considered on the whole to be surmountable; so the +affair was settled. Then came the minor considerations of a new +housekeeping, and Margery was heartily regretted; though what the good +woman would have been able to do where she could neither understand nor +make herself understood, would not have been easy to say. Even Mrs. +Costello, who, in her youth, had had considerable practice in speaking +French, found herself now and then at a loss; and as for Lucia, having +only a sort of school-girl knowledge of the language, she instantly +found her comprehension swept away in the flood of words poured upon her +by every person she ventured to speak to. "Never mind, I shall soon +learn," she said in the most valiant manner; but, alas! for the present, +she was almost helpless, and Mrs. Costello had to arrange, bargain, and +interpret for both. + +They wound up their day's business by a little shopping, which, like +everything else, was new to Lucia. The splendid shops, lighted up in +the early dusk of the winter afternoon, were as different as anything +could be from the stores at Cacouna. A sudden desire to be possessed of +a purse full of money, which she might empty in these enchanted palaces, +was the immediate and natural effect of the occasion on the mind of such +an unsophisticated visitor. She became, indeed, so completely lost in +admiration, that her mother made her small purchases without being able +to obtain anything but the vaguest and most unsatisfactory opinions on +such trifling affairs. + +Mr. Wynter derived considerable amusement from watching his young cousin +and future ward. He told his wife afterwards that he had begun the day's +work entirely from a sense of duty towards poor Mary; but that for once +he had found that kind of thing almost as amusing as women seemed to do. +The young girl with her half-Indian nature, and wholly Canadian--ultra +Canadian--bringing up, was so bright, simple, and naïve, that she was +worth watching. Her wonderful beauty, and the unconscious grace of her +father's people, kept her from ever appearing countrified or awkward; +her simplicity was that of a lovely child, and was in no way discordant +with the higher nature she had shown in the bitter troubles and +perplexities of the past year. She felt safe now and hopeful, +inconceivably, absurdly hopeful--yet there was this difference between +the happiness of long ago and the happiness to-day, that then she +_could_ not believe in sorrow, and now she only _would_ not. + +They went back to their hotel for another night. Next day they moved to +the apartment they had taken, and submitted themselves to the +ministrations of Claudine, their French version of Margery. Submitted is +exactly the right word for Lucia's behaviour, at any rate. Claudine +appeared to her to have an even greater than common facility of speech; +it only needed a single hesitating phrase to open the floodgates, and +let out a torrent. Accordingly, until her stock of available French +should increase, Lucia decided to take everything with the utmost +possible quietness. She would devote herself to her mother, and to +becoming a little acquainted with Paris, and give Claudine the fewest +possible occasions for eloquence. + +Before the two days which Mr. Wynter spent with them in their new +dwelling were over, they had begun to feel tolerably settled. In fact, +Lucia's spirits, raised by excitement, were beginning to droop a +little, and her thoughts to make more and more frequent excursions in +search of the friends from whom she was so widely separated. She thought +most, it is true, of Percy, and her fancies about him were +rose-coloured; but she thought, also, a little sadly, of the dear old +home, and the Bellairs and Bella, and even Magdalen Scott, who had been +an old acquaintance, if never a very dear friend. She had many wondering +thoughts, too, about Maurice. Was he still in England? or was he in +Canada? was he at sea? would he come over to see them? would he even +know where to find them if he came? Of these last subjects she spoke +freely to her mother, only she kept utter silence as to Percy. So it +happened that Mrs. Costello, knowing her own estimate of her daughter's +lover, and strangely forgetting not only how different Lucia's had been, +but that in a nature essentially faithful, love increases instead of +dying, through time and absence, comforted herself, and believed that +all was now settled for the best. Neither Percy nor Maurice, it was +evident, would ever be Lucia's husband. Nothing could be more +satisfactory, therefore, than that she should have become indifferent +to the one, and have only a sisterly affection for the other. And yet, +with unconscious perversity, she was not satisfied. She allowed to +herself that Maurice's conduct had been reasonable enough. He had +accepted the common belief that Christian was the murderer of Dr. +Morton; and the conclusion which naturally followed, that Christian's +daughter, beautiful and good though she might be, was not a fit mistress +for Hunsdon; to have done otherwise, would have been Quixotic. Yet in +her heart she was bitterly disappointed. If he had but loved Lucia well +enough to dare to take her with all her inherited shame, how richly he +would have been rewarded when the cloud cleared away! Where would he +find another like her? And now, since Maurice could change, who might +ever be trusted? + +No doubt these meditations were romantic. If Mrs. Costello had been the +mother of half-a-dozen children--a woman living in the midst of a busy, +lively household, where motherly cares and castle-buildings had to be +shared among three or four daughters--she would not have had time to +occupy herself so intensely with the affairs of any one. As it was, +however, this one girl was her life of life; she threw into her +interests the hopes of youth and the experience of middle age. As Lucia +grew up, she had watched with anxiety, with hope, and with fear, for the +coming of that inevitable time when, either for good or evil, she must +love. It had been her fancy that, if Lucia loved Maurice, all would be +well; if she loved any other, all would be ill. But time had passed on, +and brought change; not one thing had happened according to her +anticipations. And she tried to believe that she was glad that it was +so, while a shadow of dissatisfaction lay at the bottom of her heart. + +When Mr. Wynter left Paris, he did so with the comfortable conviction +that his cousins were happily settled; and with the persuasion that, as +they both appeared to have a fair share of common sense, they would soon +forget their past troubles, and be just like other people. + +"I don't like Mary's state of health at present," he said to his wife; +"and, if I am not mistaken, she thinks even worse of it than I do; but +still, rest of mind and body may do a great deal; and now she is really +a widow, and quite safe from any further annoyances, I dare say she will +come round." + +"And her daughter?" asked Mrs. Wynter rather anxiously. "Do you think +she would get on with the girls?" + +"I don't know, I'm sure, my dear. She is not much like them, certainly, +or, indeed, like any English girl. She is wonderfully pretty, but quite +Indian in looks." + +"Poor child! what a pity!" + +"I am not sure about that. She seems a good girl, and Mary says is the +greatest comfort to her, so I suppose she is English at heart; and as +for her black eyes, there is something very attractive about them." + +Mrs. Wynter sighed again. Lucia's beauty, of which it cannot be said +that Mr. Wynter's account was overdrawn, lost all its advantages in her +eyes by being of an Indian type. She could never quite persuade herself +that her husband had not been walking about the streets of Paris with a +handsome young squaw in skins and porcupine quills. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Poor Maurice! He came up the river early one glorious morning, and +standing on the steamboat's deck watched for the first glimpse of the +Cottage. His heart was beating so that he could scarcely see, but he +knew just where to look, and what to look for. At this time of year +there was no hope of seeing the fair figure watching on the verandah as +it had done when he went away, but the curl of smoke from the chimney +would satisfy him and prove that his darling was still in her old home. +He watched eagerly, breathlessly. Everything was so bright, that his +spirits had risen, and he felt almost certain he was in time. There, the +last bend of the river was turned, and now the trees that grew about +the Cottage and his father's house were visible--now the Cottage itself. +But suddenly his heart seemed to grow still--there was the house, there +was the garden where he and Lucia had worked, there was the slope where +they had walked together that last evening--but all was desolate. No +smoke rose from the chimney; and on the verandah, and on every ledge of +the windows snow lay deep and undisturbed; the path to the river was +choked and hidden, and by the little gate the drift had piled itself up +in a high smooth mound. Desolate! + +When the boat stopped at the wharf, there were happily few people about. +Maurice left his portmanteau, and taking the least public way hurried +off homewards. It was too late--that was his only thought; to see his +father, to know when they went, and if possible whither--his only +desire. He strode along the road, seeing and thinking of nothing but +Lucia. There was one chance, they might not yet have left Canada. But +then that ship, and the curious sense of Lucia's nearness which he had +felt when they passed it; she must have been on board! He felt as if he +should go mad when he came to his father's gate and saw all looking just +as usual, quite calm and peaceful under the broad wintry sunshine. He +had only just sense enough at the very last minute to remember that his +father was an invalid to whom the joy of his coming might be a dangerous +shock. As he thought of this he turned round the corner of the house, +and in a moment walked into the kitchen where Mrs. George, the old +housekeeper, was busy washing up the breakfast-things. + +"Law, Mr. Maurice!" cried Mrs. George, and dropped her teacup and her +cloth together--happily both on the table. + +Coming into the familiar room, and seeing the familiar face, brought the +young man a little to himself. He held his impatience in check while he +received Mrs. George's welcome, answered her questions, and asked some +in return. Then he sent her in to tell his father of his arrival, and +began to walk up and down the kitchen while she was away. + +In a minute or two she came out of the sitting-room, and he went in. Mr. +Leigh had had his own troubled thoughts lately, but he forgot them all +when he saw his son. Just at first there was only the sudden agitating +joy of the meeting--the happiness of seeing Maurice so well--so +thoroughly himself and yet improved--of seeing him at home again; but +then came trouble. + +"So they are gone?" he said almost interrupting the first greetings, and +the old man instantly knew that all his fancies had been a mistake, and +that Maurice had come back to find Lucia. + +And they were gone; and he himself had been a coward and a traitor, and +had distrusted his own son and let them go away distrusting him! He saw +it now too late. A painful embarrassment seized him. + +"Yes," he said hesitatingly. "They went a week ago." + +"By New York?" + +"Yes." + +"In the 'Atalanta' for Havre?" + +"Yes. How did you know?" + +"I did not know. I only guessed. Where are they gone?" + +"I do not know. Mrs. Costello said their plans were so uncertain that +she could not tell me." + +"Yet I should have thought, sir, that so old a friend as you might have +had a right to be told what her plans were?" + +"She told no one--except that they would not stay long in any one place +at present." + +Maurice walked to the window and sighed impatiently. + +"A pleasant prospect!" he said, "They may be at the other end of Europe +before I can get back." + +He stood for a minute looking out, and tapping impatiently with his +fingers on the window-sill, while Mr. Leigh watched him, troubled, and a +little inclined to be angry. When he turned round again he had made up +his mind that it was no use to get out of temper, a pretty sure proof +that he was so already, and that the first thing to do was to find out +exactly what his father and everybody else knew about the Costellos. He +sat down, accordingly, with a sort of desperate impatient patience, and +began a cross-examination. + +"Did they leave no message for me?" + +"Nothing in particular. All sorts of kind remembrances; Lucia said you +would be sure to meet some day." + +"Did they never speak of seeing you in England?" + +"Never. On the contrary, my impression is that they had no intention of +going to England." + +"That is strange; yet if they had they would scarcely have gone by +Havre, unless to avoid all chance of meeting me." + +"Why should they do that?" + +Maurice said nothing, he only changed his position and looked at his +father. Mr. Leigh had asked the question suddenly, with the first dawn +of a new idea in his mind, but at his son's silent answer he shrank back +in his chair breathless with dismay. So after all he _had_ been a +traitor! With his mistaken fancies about change and absence, he had been +doing all he could to destroy the very scheme that was dearest to him, +and which he now saw was dearest to Maurice also. And he knew now that +there had been something in Mrs. Costello's manner lately less friendly +to Maurice than was usual. He had done mischief which might be +irreparable. Guilty and miserable, he naturally began to defend himself. + +"If you had only told me!" he said feebly. + +"I had nothing to tell, sir. I went away, as you remember, almost at a +moment's notice, to please you and my grandfather. I could not speak to +Lucia then, because--for various reasons; but I know that Mrs. Costello +was my friend. Afterwards she wrote to me when poor Morton was killed, +and told me some story I could not very well make out, but which of +course made no difference to me. Then came another letter with all the +truth about her marriage, which she seemed to think conclusive, and +which wound up by saying that she meant to take Lucia away--hide her +from me in fact. My grandfather was very ill then, and I had no time to +write to her, but my message just after his death was plain enough, I +thought--what did she say to it?" + +Mr. Leigh dropped his eyes slowly from his son's face, and put his hand +confusedly to his head. + +"What was it?" he said. "I can't remember." + +"Only two or three words. Just that all she could say did not alter the +case, or alter me." + +This was rather a free rendering of the original message, but it was +near enough and significant enough for Mr. Leigh to be quite sure he had +never heard such words before. They would have given him just that key +to his son's heart which he had longed for. + +"You must be mistaken," he answered. "I never received such a message as +that." + +"It was a postscript. I had meant to write to her and had not time." + +"You must have forgotten. You meant to send it." + +"I sent it, I am certain. Have you my letters?" + +"Yes. They are in that drawer." + +Maurice opened the drawer where all his letters had been lovingly +arranged in order. He remembered the look of the one he wanted and +picked it out instantly. + +"There it is, sir," he said, and held out to his father those two +important lines, still unread. Mr. Leigh looked at the paper and then at +Maurice. + +"I never saw it," he replied. "How could I have missed it?" + +"Heaven knows! It is plain enough. And my note, which came in the letter +before that; it was never answered. _That_ may have miscarried too?" + +"There was no note, Maurice, my dear boy; there was no note. I wondered +there was not." + +"And yet I wrote one." + +Maurice was looking at his father in grievous perplexity and vexation, +when he suddenly became aware of the nervous tremor the old man was in. +He went up to him hastily, with a quick impulse of shame and tenderness. + +"Forgive me, father," he said. "I forgot myself and you. Only you cannot +know the miserable anxiety I have been in lately. Now tell me whether it +is true that you are stronger than when I left?" + +He sat down by the easy-chair and tried to talk to his father as if Mrs. +Costello and Lucia had no existence; but Mr. Leigh, though he outwardly +took courage to enjoy all the gladness of their union, was troubled at +heart. It was a grievous disappointment, this coming home of which so +much had been said and thought. No one could have guessed that the young +man had been out into the world to seek his fortune, and had come back +laden with gold, or that the older had just won back again the very +light of his eyes. + +Anxious as Maurice had been to avoid notice at the moment of his arrival +at Cacouna, he had been seen and recognized on the wharf, and the news +of his coming carried to Mr. Bellairs before he had been an hour at +home. So it happened that while the father and son sat together in the +afternoon, and were already discussing the first arrangements for their +return to England, a sleigh drove briskly up to the door, and Mr. and +Mrs. Bellairs came in full of welcomes and congratulations. + +"I knew we might come to-day," Mrs. Bellairs said, still holding her +favourite's hand and scanning his face with her bright eyes. "We shall +not stay long, but it is pleasant to see you home again, Maurice." + +"Don't say too many kind things, Mrs. Bellairs," he answered, "or you +will make me want to stay when I ought to be going." + +"Going! You are surely not talking of that yet?" + +"Indeed I am. We hope to be away in a fortnight." + +"Oh! if you _hope_ it, there is no more to be said." + +"If you knew how I have hoped to be here, and how disappointed I have +been to-day, you would not be so hard on me." + +They had both sat down now and were a little apart, for the moment, from +the others. Mrs. Bellairs was surprised at Maurice's words, though she +understood instantly what he meant. He had never before given her a +single hint in words of his love for Lucia, though she had been +perfectly aware of it. She guessed now that his grandfather's death had +changed his wishes into intentions, and that since he was in a position +to offer Lucia a share of his own good fortune, he no longer cared to +make any secret of his feelings towards her. + +"You did not expect that our friends would be gone," she asked in a tone +which expressed the sympathy she felt and yet could not be taken as +inquisitive. As for Maurice, he wanted to speak out his trouble to +somebody, and was glad of this result of his little impetuous speech. + +"I was altogether uncertain," he answered; "I wanted to start from +England a week sooner, and if I had done so, it seems, I should have +found them here; but I was hindered, and for some reason or other, they +chose to keep me in the dark as to their intentions." + +"Lucia often talked of you and of her regret at going away just when you +were expected." + +"She did? Do you know where they are?" + +"No; and that is the strangest thing. I believe their plans were not +quite fixed; but still Mrs. Costello was not a woman to start away into +the world without plans of some kind, and yet no one in Cacouna knows +more than that they sailed from New York to Havre." + +"It is incomprehensible, except on one supposition. Did you ever hear +Mrs. Costello speak of my return?" + +"Not particularly. Don't be offended, Maurice, either with her or with +me, but I did fancy once or twice that she wished to be away before you +came. Only, mind, that is simply my fancy." + +"I have no doubt you fancied right; but I have a thousand questions to +ask you. Tell me first--" + +"Maurice," interrupted Mr. Bellairs from the other side of the room, +"what is this your father says about going away immediately? You can't +be in earnest in such a scheme!" + +"I am afraid I am," Maurice answered, getting up and standing with his +arm resting on the mantelpiece, "at least, if my father can stand the +journey." + +Mr. Leigh, full of self-reproach and secret disturbance, vowed that the +journey would do him good; that he was eager to see the old country once +again. He had resolved, as the penance for his blunder, that he would +not be the means of hindering his boy one day in his quest for Lucia. +Nevertheless, the discussion grew warm, for Mr. Bellairs having vainly +protested against a winter voyage for the Costellos, had his arguments +all ready and in order, and had no scruple in bringing them to bear upon +Maurice. Of course, they were thrown away, just so many wasted words; +the angry impatient longing that was in the young man's heart would have +been strong enough to overthrow all the arguments in the universe. Only +one reason would have been strong enough to keep him--his father's +unfitness for travel; and that could not fairly be urged, for Mr. Leigh +was actually in better health than he had been for years, and would not +himself listen to a word on the subject. + +Just before the visitors left, Maurice found an opportunity of asking +Mrs. Bellairs one of his "thousand questions." + +"Mr. Strafford, of Moose Island, was Mrs. Costello's great adviser, does +not he know?" + +"No; I wrote to him, and got his answer this morning. He only knew they +would probably stay some time in France." + +She was just going out to get into the sleigh as she spoke. Suddenly +with her foot on the step she stopped, + +"Stay! I have the address of a friend, a cousin, I think, of Mrs. +Costello's in England. Mr. Strafford sent it to me." + +"Thanks, thanks. I shall see you in the morning." + +Maurice went back joyfully into the house. Here was a clue. Now, oh, to +be off and able to make use of it! + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Before going to bed on the very night of his arrival, Maurice found the +list of steamers, and with his father's approbation fixed upon one which +was advertised to sail in a few days over a fortnight from that time. It +happened to be a vessel the comfortable accommodation of which had been +specially praised by some experienced travellers, his fellow-passengers +in the 'India,' and the advantages of going by it being quite evident, +served to satisfy what small scruples of conscience Mr. Bellairs had +been able to awaken. He wrote, therefore, to secure berths and put his +letter ready to be taken into Cacouna next morning, when he should go to +pay his promised visit to Mrs. Bellairs. + +It was early when Maurice awoke; he did so with a sense of having much +to do, but the aspect of his own old room, so strange now and yet so +familiar, kept him dreaming for a few minutes before that important +day's work could be begun. How bare and angular it seemed, how shabby +and poor the furniture! It never had been anything but a boy's room of +the simplest sort, and yet it had many happy and some few sad +associations, such as no other room could ever have for him. He recalled +the long ago days when his brother and he had shared it together, and +their mother used to come in softly at night to look that her two sons +were safe and well,--the later years, when mother and brother were both +gone, and he himself sat there alone reading or writing far into the +night. He thought of the many summer mornings when he had opened his +window to watch for the movement of Lucia's curtain, or for the glimpse +of her girlish figure moving about under the light shadows of the +acacias in the Cottage garden. + +But when he came to that point in his meditation, he sprang up +impatiently, and the uncomfortable irritating feeling that he had been +unfairly dealt with, tricked, in fact, began to take possession of him +again. However, it only acted as a stimulant. He began to feel that he +had entered into the lists with Mrs. Costello, and, regarding her as a +faithless ally, was not a little disposed to do battle with her _à +l'outrance_, and carry off Lucia for revenge as well as for love. + +Directly after breakfast he had out the little red sleigh in which last +winter he had so often driven his old playfellow to and from Cacouna, +and started alone. He had many visits of friendship or business to pay, +but he could not resist going first to Mrs. Bellairs. + +After all, now that the first sharpness of his disappointment was over, +it was pleasant to be at home and to meet friendly faces at every turn. +He had to stop again and again to exchange greetings with people on the +road, and even sometimes to receive congratulations on being a "rich man +now," "a lucky fellow"--congratulations which were both spoken and +listened to as much as if the lands of Hunsdon were a fairy penny, in +the virtues of which neither speaker nor hearer had any very serious +belief. In fact, there was something odd and incredible in the idea that +this was no longer plain Maurice Leigh, the most popular and one of the +poorest members of this small Backwoods world, but Maurice Leigh +Beresford, of Hunsdon, an English country gentleman rich enough, if he +chose, to buy up the whole settlement. + +Maurice went on his way, however, little troubled by his new dignity, +and found Mrs. Bellairs and Bella expecting him. They had guessed that +he would not delay coming for the promised address, and Mr. Strafford's +note containing it lay ready on the table; but when he came into the +room their visitor did actually for the moment forget his errand in +seeing the sombre black-robed figure which had taken the place of the +gay Bella Latour. He had gone away just before her wedding, he had left +her happy, bright, mischievous,--a girl whom sorrow had never touched, +who seemed incapable of understanding what trouble meant; he came back, +full of his own perplexities and disappointments, and found her one so +seized upon by grief that it had grown into her nature, and clothed and +crowned her with its sad pre-eminence. There was no ostentation of +mourning about the young widow, it is true, but none the less Maurice in +looking at her first forgot himself utterly, and then remembered his +impatience and ill-humour with more shame than was at all agreeable. + +To Bella also the meeting was a painful one. Of all her friends, Maurice +was the only one who was associated with her girlish happiness, and +quite dissociated from her married life and its tragic ending. The sight +of him, therefore, renewed for the moment the recollections which she +had taught herself to keep as much as possible for her solitary hours, +and almost disturbed the calm she had forced upon herself in the +presence of others. + +Mrs. Bellairs, however, used to her sister's calamity and ignorant of +Maurice's feelings, did not long delay referring to the Costellos. + +"Here is Mr. Strafford's note," she said. "I wrote and begged of him to +tell me by what means a letter would be likely to reach them, and this +is his answer." + +It was only a few lines, saying that Mrs. Costello had told him +expressly that she should remain for some time in France, and would +write to her Canadian friends as soon as she had any settled home, but +that in the meantime he believed her movements would be known by her +relative, Mr. Wynter, whose address he enclosed. + +Maurice, whose anxiety was revived by the sight of this missive, +examined it with as much care as if he expected to extract more +information from it than in reality the writer possessed, but he was +obliged to content himself with copying the address and giving the +warmest thanks to Mrs. Bellairs for the help he thus gained. + +"I suppose," she asked smiling, "that I may entrust you with a message +for Lucia?" + +Maurice looked rather foolish. He certainly did mean to follow up the +clue in person, but he had not said so, and he fancied Mrs. Bellairs was +inclined to laugh at him for his romance. + +"I will carry it if you do," he answered, "but I do not promise when it +will be delivered." + +"You are really going to England at the time you spoke of last night?" + +"Yes." + +"And from England to France is not much of a journey?" + +"No; and I have not seen Paris yet." + +"Ah! well, you will go over and meet with them, and rejoice poor Lucia's +heart with the sight of a home face." + +"Shall I? Will they be homesick, do you think?" + +"_They?_ I don't know. _She_ will, I think--do not you, Bella?" + +"At all events, she went away with her mind full of the idea that she +would be sure to see you before long." + +Perhaps this speech was not absolutely true, but Maurice liked Bella +better than ever as she said it. He got up soon after, and went his way +with a lighter heart about those various calls which must be made, and +which were pleasant enough now that he saw his way tolerably clear +before him with regard to that other and always most important piece of +business. + +When he got home he set himself to consider whether it were better to +write boldly to Mr. Wynter and ask for news of the travellers, or +whether to wait, and after taking his father to Hunsdon run over himself +to Chester, and make his request in person. There was little to be +gained by writing, for Mr. Wynter's answer, even if it were +satisfactory, would have to be sent to Hunsdon, and there wait his +arrival, while Mrs. Costello would have plenty of time to hear of his +application, and to baffle him if she wished to do so. He quickly +decided, therefore, to do nothing until he could go himself to Chester, +and from thence direct to the place, wherever that might be, where Lucia +was to be found. + +Mr. Leigh's day, meanwhile, had been far less comfortable than +Maurice's. He had made a pretence of looking over papers, and arranging +various small affairs in readiness for their voyage, but his mind all +the while had been occupied with two or three questions. Had Maurice +really sent to him a note for Mrs. Costello which by any carelessness of +his had been lost? Had the change he remembered in her manner been +connected with the loss? Had Lucia cared for Maurice? Had either mother +or daughter thought so ill of Maurice as he, his own father, had done? +The poor old man tormented himself, much as a woman might have done, +with these speculations, but he dared not breathe a word of them. He +even went so far in his self-accusations and self-disgust as to imagine +that if he had been his son's faithful helper, he might have prevented +that flight from the Cottage which had caused so much trouble and +vexation. + +Still, when Maurice came home full of energy and hope, and anxious to +atone for his unreasonableness of the previous day, the aspect of +affairs brightened a good deal, and the evening passed happily with +both. + +But after that first day a certain amount of disturbance began to be +felt in the household. People came and went perpetually. There was so +much to be done, and so little time to do it in; and there was not only +the actual business of moving, but innumerable claims from old friends +were made upon Maurice, all of which had to be satisfied one way or +other. + +And the days flew by so quickly. Maurice congratulated himself again and +again on having provided so good a reason for leaving Cacouna at a +certain time. "Our berths are taken," was a conclusive answer to all +proposals of delay; and if it had not been for that, he often thought it +would have been impossible to have held to his purpose. But as it was, +all engagements, whatever they might be, had to be pressed into the +short space of a fortnight, and under the double impulse of Maurice's +own energies, and of that irrevocable _must_, things went on fast and +prosperously. + +It was well for Mr. Leigh that these last weeks in his old home were so +full of hurry and excitement, and that he was supported by the presence +of his son, and by the thought that he was fulfilling what would have +been the desire of his much-beloved and long-lost wife; for the pain of +parting for ever from the places where so many years of happiness and of +sorrow had been spent--from the birthplace of his children, and the +graves which were sacred to his heart, grew at times very bitter, and +needed all his absorbing love for his last remaining child, to make it +endurable. It is quite true, however, that at other times, the idea of +meeting his old neighbour of the Cottage in that far-away and +half-forgotten England, and of seeing Maurice and Lucia once more +together, as he could not help but hope they would be, cheered him into +positive hopefulness and eagerness to be gone. + +Two days before their actual leaving, it was necessary for the household +to be broken up. Maurice wished to go for the interval to a hotel. +Cacouna had two,--long gaunt wooden buildings supposed to be possessed +of "every accommodation,"--but so many voices were instantly raised +against this plan, that it had to be given up, and Mrs. Bellairs, with +great rejoicing, carried off both father and son from half-a-dozen +other claimants. Literally, she only carried off Mr. Leigh, for Maurice, +who had entirely resumed his Canadian habits, was still deep in the +business of packing and of seeing to the arrangements for the morrow's +sale; but he had promised to have his work finished before evening, and +to join them in good time in Cacouna. + +As Mrs. Bellairs drove Mr. Leigh home in her own sleigh, flourishing the +whip harmlessly over Bob's ears and making him clash all his silver +bells at once with the tossing of his head, she could not help saying, + +"Don't you think now Maurice is such a rich man he ought to marry soon?" + +Her companion looked at her doubtfully. + +"Perhaps he is thinking of it," he answered. + +"When he is married," she went on with a little laugh, "he has promised +to invite us to England." + +But Mr. Leigh did not smile. + +"I hope you will come soon, then," he said. + +"You think there is a chance?" + +"I think it will not be his fault if there is not." + +"And I think he is not likely to find the lady very obstinate." + +"What lady? _Any_ one or one in particular?" + +"I thought of one, certainly." + +"Lucia Costello?" + +"Yes." + +"You think she would marry him?" + +"Why not? Yes, I think so." + +"And her mother?" + +"Ah! I don't know; Mrs. Costello has a will of her own." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +In the old days there had been a sort of antagonism between Bella Latour +and Maurice Leigh. They had necessarily seen a great deal of each other, +and liked each other after a certain fashion; but Maurice had thought +Bella too flighty, and inclined to fastness; and Bella had been +half-seriously, half-playfully disposed to resent his judgment of her. +But now, either because of the complete change in her character which +the last few months had wrought, or from some other cause, Mrs. Morton +and Maurice fell into a kind of confidential intimacy quite new to their +intercourse. It was only for two days, certainly, but during those two +days, and in spite of Maurice's occupations, they had time for several +long and very interesting conversations. + +In the first of these, which had begun upon some indifferent subject, +Bella surprised Maurice by alluding, quite calmly and simply, to the +imprisonment of the unfortunate Indian, Lucia's father. He had naturally +supposed that a subject so closely connected with her own misfortunes +would have been too deeply painful to be a permitted one, and had, +therefore, with care, avoided all allusion to it. In this, however, he +did not do her full justice. The truth was, that in her deep interest in +the Costellos, she had quietly forced herself to think and speak of the +whole train of events which affected them, without dwelling on its +connection with her own story. She never spoke of her husband--her +self-command was not yet strong enough for that--nor of Clarkson; but of +Christian, as the victim of a false accusation, she talked to Maurice +without hesitation. + +Up to that time there had been no very vivid idea in his mind either of +Christian himself, or of the way in which he had spent the months of his +imprisonment, and finally died. Indeed, in the constant change and +current of nearer interests, he had thought little, after the first, +about this unknown father of his beloved. He had considered the matter +until it led him just so far as to make up his mind, quite easily and +without evidence, that Clarkson was probably the murderer, and that +Christian, whether innocent or guilty, was not to be allowed to separate +him from Lucia, and then, after that point, he ceased to think of +Christian at all. But now, he received from Bella the little details, +such as no letters could have told him, of the weeks since her husband's +death--chiefly of the later ones, and there were many reasons why these +details had a charm for him which made him want to hear more, the more +he heard. In the first place she spoke constantly of Lucia, and it +scarcely needed a lover's fancy to enable him to perceive how in this +time of trial she had been loving, helpful, wise even, beyond what +seemed to belong to the sweet but wilful girl of his recollection. He +listened with new thoughts of her, and a love which had more of respect, +as Bella described those bitter days of which Lucia had told her later, +when neither mother nor daughter dared to believe in the innocence of +the accused man, and when, the one for love, the other for obedience, +they kept their secret safe in their trembling hearts, and tried to go +in and out before the world as if they had no secret to keep. + +"Lucia used to come to me every day. I was ill, and her visits were my +great pleasure; she came and talked or read to me, with her mind full +all the while of that horrible idea." + +"She knew that it was her father?" asked Maurice. "I wonder Mrs. +Costello, after having kept the truth from Lucia so long, should have +told her all just then." + +Bella looked at him inquiringly. + +"She had told her before anything of this happened," she answered. "I +believe Lucia herself was the first to suspect that the prisoner was her +father." + +"And how did they find out?" + +"Mr. Strafford went and visited him." + +"Did you ever see him?" + +"No. Elise did for a few minutes just before his death; but I have heard +so much about him that I can scarcely persuade myself I never did see +him." + +"They were both with him at last?" + +"Yes. Poor Lucia never saw him till then." + +"Tell me about it, please." + +She obeyed, and told all that had happened both within her own knowledge +and at the jail, on the night of Christian's death and the day preceding +it. Her calmness was a little shaken when she had to refer to Clarkson's +confession, though she did so very slightly, but she recovered herself +and went on with her story, simply repeating for the most part what +Lucia and Mrs. Bellairs had told her at the time. When she had finished, +Maurice remained silent. He had shaded his eyes with his hand, and when, +after a minute's pause, he looked up again to ask her another question, +she saw that he had been deeply touched by the picture she had drawn. + +But Bella was really doing her friends a double service by thus talking +to Maurice. It was not only that Lucia grew if possible dearer than ever +to him from these conversations, but there was something--though Maurice +himself would not have admitted it--in making Lucia's father an object +of interest and sympathy, instead of leaving him a kind of dark but +inevitable blot on the history of the future bride. + +On the evening before Mr. Leigh and his son were to start for England, +as many as possible of their old friends were gathered together at Mr. +Bellairs' for a farewell meeting. Every one there had known the +Costellos; every one remembered how Maurice and Lucia had been +perpetually associated together at all Cacouna parties; every one, +therefore, naturally thought of Lucia, and she was more frequently +spoken of than she had been at all since she left. It seemed also to be +taken for granted that Maurice would see her somewhere before long, and +he was entrusted with innumerable messages both to her and her mother. + +"But," he remonstrated, "you forget that I am going to England, and that +they are in France--at least, that it is supposed so." + +"Oh! yes," he was answered, "but you will be sure to see them; don't +forget the message when you do." + +At last he gave up making any objection, and determined to believe what +everybody said. It was a pleasant augury, at any rate, and he was glad +to accept it for a true one. + +When all the visitors were gone, and the household had retired for the +night, Mr. Bellairs and his former pupil sat together over the +drawing-room fire for one last chat. Their talk wandered over all sorts +of subjects--small incidents of law business--the prospects of some +Cacouna men who had gone to British Columbia--the voyage to England--the +position of Hunsdon--and Maurice had been persuading his host to come +over next summer for a holiday, when by some chance Percy was alluded +to. + +"You have not seen or heard anything of him, I suppose?" Mr. Bellairs +asked. + +"Yes, indeed, I have," Maurice answered, slowly stirring the poker about +in the ashes as he spoke. "I met him only the other day in London." + +"Met him? Where?" + +"On a doorstep----," and he proceeded to describe their meeting. + +"I suppose you have heard of his marriage by this time." + +"No. I heard from Edward Graham, an old friend of mine, that he was +going to be married, but that is the latest news I have of him." + +"Oh, well, Payne may have made a mistake. He told me it was coming off +in a day or two." + +"As likely as not. He might not think it worth while to send us any +notice." + +"The puppy! I beg your pardon, I forgot he was your cousin." + +"You need not apologise on that score. There is not much love lost +between us; and as for Elise, I never knew her inclined to be +inhospitable to anybody but him." + +"Was she to him?" + +"She was heartily glad to see the last of him, and so I suspect were +some other people." + +"What people?" + +"Mrs. Costello for one. He was more at the Cottage than she seemed to +like." + +Maurice hesitated, but could not resist asking a question. + +"Was he as much there afterwards as he was before the time I left?" + +"More, I think. Look here, Maurice; Elise first put it into my head that +he was running after Lucia, but I saw it plainly enough myself +afterwards, and I know you saw it too. I think we are old enough friends +for me to speak to you on such a subject. Well, my belief is, that +before Percy went away, he proposed to Lucia." + +"Proposed? Impossible!" + +"I don't know about that. He was really in love with her in his +fashion--which is not yours, or mine." + +"And she?" + +"Must have refused him, for he went away in a kind of amazed ruefulness, +which even you would have pitied." + +Maurice looked the reverse of pitiful for a moment. + +"But that is all supposition," he said. + +"Granted. But a supposition founded on pretty close observation. Only +mind, I do not say Lucia might not be a little sorry herself. You were +away, and a girl does not lose a handsome fellow like Percy, who has +been following her about everywhere as if he were her pet dog, without +feeling the loss more or less. At least that is my idea." + +"He has soon consoled himself." + +"My dear fellow, everybody can't step into possession of £10,000 a year +all at once. Most people have to do something for a living, and the only +thing Percy could do was to marry." + +They said good-night soon after this, and went upstairs, Maurice +blessing the Fates which seemed determined to give him all possible hope +and encouragement. Only he could not quite understand this idea of Mr. +Bellairs'. He could imagine anybody, even Percy, being so far carried +away by Lucia's beauty as to forget prudence for the moment; but he +could not help but feel that it was improbable that Percy would have +gone so far as to propose to Lucia unless he were sure she would say +yes. Why, then, had she not said yes? + +Next morning the last farewells had to be said--the last look taken at +the old home. Night found father and son far on their way to New York, +and Maurice's eagerness all renewed by this fresh start upon his quest. + +There was little of novelty in the journey or the voyage. There were the +usual incidents of winter travelling--the hot, stifling car--the snowy +country stretching out mile after mile from morning till night--the +hotels, which seemed strangely comfortless for an invalid--and then the +great city with its noise and bustle, and the steamer where they had +nothing to do but to wait. + +And, at last, there was England. There was the Mersey and Liverpool, +looking, as they came in, much as if the accumulated dirt of the three +kingdoms had been bestowed there, but brightening up into a different +aspect when they had fairly landed and left the docks behind them. For +it was a lovely March day--only the second or third of the month it is +true,--and winter, which they had left in full possession in Canada, +seemed to be over here, and the warm sunny air so invigorated Mr. Leigh +that he would not hear Maurice's proposal to rest until next day, but +insisted on setting out at once for Norfolk. + +As they drove to the railway they passed the jeweller's shop where +Maurice had bought Lucia's ring. Alas! it still lay in his pocket, where +he had carried it ever since that day--when would it find its +destination? He was not going to be disheartened now, however. He was +glad of the little disturbance to his thoughts of having to take tickets +and see his father comfortably placed, and at the very last moment he +was just able to seize upon a _Times_, and set himself to reading it as +if he had never been out of England. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Maurice had telegraphed from Liverpool, and the old-fashioned carriage +from Hunsdon met them at the last railway station. It was near sunset, +and under a clear sky the soft rich green of the grass gleamed out with +the brightness of spring. They soon turned into the park, and the house +itself began to be visible through the budding, but still leafless, +trees. Both father and son were silent. To the one, every foot of the +road they traversed was haunted by the memories of thirty years ago; to +the other, this coming home was a step towards the fulfilment of his +hopes. They followed their own meditations, glad or sorrowful, until the +last curve was turned, and they stopped before the great white pillars +of the portico. Then Maurice remembered that this was his first coming +home as master, and felt a momentary shyness take possession of him +before his own new importance. He had been able during his absence to +keep Hunsdon so much in the background, and to be so thoroughly the +natural, portionless, Maurice Leigh. He jumped out of the carriage, +however, and was too much occupied in helping his father, to think, for +the next few minutes, of his own sensations at all. Then he discovered +what he had not before thought about--that there were still two or three +of the old servants who remembered his mother and her marriage, and who +were eager to be recognised by "the Captain." + +And so the coming home was got over, and Mr. Leigh was fairly settled in +the house from which so long ago he had stolen away his wife. After he +had once taken possession of his rooms--the very ones which had been +hers,--he seemed to think no more about Canada, but to be quite content +with the new link to the past which supplied the place of his accustomed +associations. And, perhaps, he felt the change all the less because of +that inclination to return to the recollections of youth rather than of +middle age, which seems so universal with the old. + +Maurice sent over a messenger to Dighton to announce their arrival, and +to tell his cousin that he intended leaving home again after one day's +interval. That one day was fully occupied, but, as he had half expected, +in the afternoon Lady Dighton came over. + +She knew already of his disappointment, and had sympathised with it. She +came now with the kind intention of establishing such friendly relations +with Mr. Leigh as would make Maurice more comfortable in leaving his +father alone. She even proposed to carry the old man off to Dighton, but +that was decided against. + +"And you really start to-morrow?" she asked Maurice. + +"Early to-morrow morning. I cannot imagine what the railway-makers have +been thinking about; it will take me the whole day to get to Chester." + +"How is that?" + +"Oh! there are about a dozen changes of line, and, of course, an hour to +wait each time." + +"Cut off the exaggeration, and it is provoking enough. Is it in Chester +this gentleman lives?" + +"No, three or four miles away, I fancy. I shall have to inquire when I +get there." + +"And after you find him what will you do?" + +"If I get their address, I shall go straight from Mr. Wynter to them, +wherever they are." + +"At St. Petersburg, perhaps, or Constantinople?" + +"Don't, Louisa, please. I thought you had some pity for one's +perplexities." + +"So I have. And I believe, myself, that they are in Paris." + +"I wish they may be--that is, if I get any satisfaction from my +inquiries. Otherwise, Paris is not exactly a place where one would +choose to set about seeking for a lost friend, especially with about +half-a-dozen sentences of available French." + +"Never fear. But if you should not find them, I would not mind going +over for a week or two to help you; I should be of some use as an +interpreter." + +"Will you come? Not for that; but if I do find them, I should so like to +introduce Lucia to you." + +"To tell the truth, I am rather afraid of this paragon of yours; and you +will be bringing her to see me." + +"I am afraid I am making too sure of that without your telling me so. +After all, I may have my search for nothing. I do wish very much you +would come over." + +"Well, at Easter we will see. Perhaps I may coax Sir John over for a +week or two." + +"Thank you. I shall depend on that." + +"But remember you must send me word how you fare." + +"I will write the moment I have anything to tell." + +"Impress upon your father, Maurice, that we wish to do all we can for +his comfort. I wish he would have come to us." + +"I think he is better here. Everything here reminds him of my mother, +and he feels at home. But I shall feel that I leave him in your hands, +my kind cousin." + +Maurice bade his father good-bye that night, and early next morning he +started on his journey to Chester. What a journey it was! His account to +Lady Dighton had been exaggerated certainly, but was not without +foundation. Again and again he found himself left behind, chafing and +restless, by some train which had carried him for, perhaps, an hour, and +obliged to amuse himself as best he could until a fresh one came, in +which he would travel another equally short stage. It was a windy, +rainy day, with gleams of sunshine, but more of cloud and shower, and +grew more and more stormy as it drew towards night. Before he reached +Chester the wind had risen to a storm, and sheets of rain were being +dashed fiercely against the carriage windows. At last they did roll into +the station with as much noise and importance as if delay had been a +thing undreamt of, on _that_ line at any rate; and Maurice hurried off +to make his inquiries, and find a carriage to take him to Mr. Wynter's. + +So far, certainly, he prospered. He found that his destination was +between four and five miles from the city, but it was perfectly well +known, and a carriage was soon ready to take him on. + +The road seemed very long, as an unknown road travelled in darkness and +in haste generally does. The wind howled, and rattled the carriage +windows, the rain still dashed against the glass with every gust, and at +times the horses seemed scarcely able to keep on through the storm. At +last, however, they came to a stop, and Maurice, looking out, found +himself close to a lodge, from the window of which a bright gleam of +light shone out across the rainy darkness. In a minute a second light +came from the opening door, the great gates rolled back, and the +carriage passed on into the grounds. There were large trees on both +sides of the drive, just faintly visible as they swayed backwards and +forwards, and then came an open space and the house itself. There was a +cheerful brightness there, showing a wide old-fashioned porch, and, +within, a large hall where a lamp was burning. Maurice hurried in to the +porch, and had waited but a minute when a servant in a plain, +sober-coloured livery came leisurely across the hall and opened the +glass door, through which the visitor had been trying to get his first +idea of the place and its inhabitants. + +"Was Mr. Wynter in?" + +"No." + +"Was he expected?" + +"Not to-night, certainly--perhaps not to-morrow." + +"Mrs. Wynter?" That was a guess. Maurice had never troubled himself till +then to think whether there _was_ a Mrs. Wynter. + +"She was at home, but engaged." + +Maurice hesitated a moment. "I must see her," he thought to himself, and +took heart again. + +"I have made a long journey," he said, "to see Mr. Wynter; will you give +my card to your mistress, and beg of her to see me for a moment?" + +The man took the card and led the visitor into a small room at one side +of the hall, where books and work were lying about as if it had been +occupied earlier in the day, but which was empty now. Then he shut the +door and carried the card into the drawing-room. + +Mrs. Wynter had friends staying with her. There was a widow and her son +and daughter, and one or two young people besides, as well as all the +younger members of the Wynter family. The two elder ladies were having a +little comfortable chat over their work, and the others were gathered +round the piano, when Maurice's arrival was heard. + +"Who can it be?" Mrs. Wynter said doubtfully. "It is not possible Mr. +Wynter can be back to-night." + +The eldest daughter came to the back of her mother's chair. + +"Listen, mamma," she said; "or shall I look if it is papa?" + +"No indeed, my dear. It can't be. Walter!" for one of the boys was +cautiously unlatching the door, "come away, I beg." + +Meanwhile all listened, so very extraordinary did it seem that anybody +should come unannounced, so late, and on such a night. + +Presently the door opened, and everybody's eyes, as well as ears, were +in requisition, though there was only a card to exercise them on. + +"A gentleman, ma'am, who says he has come a long way to see master, and +would you speak to him for a moment?" + +Mrs. Wynter took up the card, and her daughter read it over her +shoulder. + +"Leigh Beresford?" she said. "I do not know the name at all. You said +Mr. Wynter was from home?" + +"Yes, ma'am. The gentleman seemed very much put out, and then said could +he see you?" + +"I suppose he must;" and Mrs. Wynter began, rather reluctantly, to put +aside her embroidery, and draw up her lace shawl around her shoulders. + +"But what a pretty name! Mamma, who can he be?" + +"And, mamma, if he is nice bring him in and let us all see him." + +"No, don't; we don't want any strangers. What _do_ people come after +dinner for?" + +Mrs. Wynter paid no attention to her daughters, but having made up her +mind to it, walked composedly out of the room, and into the one where +Maurice waited. She came in, a fair motherly woman, in satin and lace, +with a certain soft _comfortableness_ about her aspect which seemed an +odd contrast to his impatience. He took pains to speak without hurry or +excitement, but did not, perhaps, altogether succeed. + +"I must beg you to pardon me this intrusion," he said. "I hoped to have +found Mr. Wynter at home, and I wished to ask him a question which I +have no doubt you can answer equally well if you will be so good." + +"If it relates to business," Mrs. Wynter began, but Maurice interrupted, + +"It is only about an address. I have just arrived in England from +Canada; I am an old friend and neighbour of Mrs. Costello, and have +something of importance to communicate to her, will you tell me where +she is?" + +Poor Maurice! he had been getting his little speech ready beforehand, +and had made up his mind to speak quite coolly, but somehow the last few +words seemed very much in earnest, and struck Mrs. Wynter as being so. +She looked more closely at her guest. + +"Mrs. Costello is in France. Did I understand that you had known her in +Canada?" + +"I have known her all my life. I spent the last summer and autumn in +England, and did not return to Canada until after she had left, but she +knew that I should have occasion to see her, or write to her as soon as +I could reach home again, and I am anxious to do so now." + +"You are aware that Mrs. Costello wishes to live very quietly? Her +health is much broken." + +"I know all. Mrs. Costello has herself told me. Pray trust me--you may, +indeed." + +"You will excuse my hesitation if you do know all; but, certainly, I +have no authority to refuse their address." + +She got up and opened a desk which stood on a table in the room. She had +considered the matter while they were talking, and come to the +conclusion that the address ought to be given, while at the same time +she wished to know more of the person to whom she gave it. + +"I wish Mr. Wynter had been at home," she said after a minute's pause, +during which she was turning over the papers in the desk, and Maurice +was watching her eagerly. "He would have been able to tell you something +of your friends, for he only returned home a week or two ago from +meeting them." + +"Are they in Paris?" + +"Yes. Are you returning to Canada?" + +"No. Perhaps, Mrs. Wynter, you would like to have my address? My coming +to you as I have done, without credentials of any sort, must certainly +seem strange." + +"Thank you; you will understand that I feel in some little difficulty." + +"I understand perfectly." He wrote his name and address in full and gave +it to her. "Mrs. Costello was a dear friend of my mother's," he said; +"she has always treated me almost as a son, and I cannot help hoping +that what I have to say to her may be welcome news." + +"Do you expect to see her, then, or only to write?" + +"I am on my way to Paris. I hope to see them." + +"Here is the address. You have had a long journey, the servant told me." + +"From Hunsdon. And the journey out of Norfolk into Cheshire is a +tiresome one. Thank you very much. Can I take any message to Mrs. +Costello?" + +"None, thank you, except our kindest remembrances. But you will let me +offer you something--at least a glass of wine?" + +But Maurice had now got all he wanted. He just glanced at the precious +paper, put it away safely, declined Mrs. Wynter's offers, and was out of +the house and on his way back to Chester in a very short space of time. + +"What an odd thing!" Mrs. Wynter said as she settled herself comfortably +in the easy-chair again. + +"Who was he, mamma? What did he want?" + +"He was a Canadian friend of your cousin Mary's wanting her address." + +"What! come over from Canada on purpose?" + +"It almost seemed like it, though that could not be, I suppose, for here +is his address--'Maurice Leigh Beresford, Hunsdon, Norfolk.'" + +"Beresford?" said the widow, "Why the Beresfords of Hunsdon are great +people--very grand people, indeed. I used to know something of them." + +"Did he look like a grand person, mamma?" + +"He seemed a gentleman, certainly. I know no more." + +"Was he young or old?" + +"Young." + +"Handsome or ugly?" + +"Need he be either?" + +"Of course. Which, mamma?" + +"Not ugly, decidedly. Tall, and rather dark, with a very frank, +honest-looking face." + +"Young, handsome, tall, dark, and honest-looking! Mamma, he's a hero of +romance, especially coming as he did, in the rain and the night." + +"Don't be silly, Tiny. Mamma, is not my cousin Lucia a great beauty?" + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Mrs. Costello and Lucia had grown, to some degree, accustomed to their +Paris life. Its novelty had at first prevented them from feeling its +loneliness; but as time went on, there began to be something dreary in +the absence of every friendly face, every familiar voice. Mrs. Costello +would not even write to Canada until she could feel tolerably sure that +her letters would only arrive after the Leighs had left; she had taken +pains to find out all Mr. Leigh could tell her of Maurice's intentions, +and she guessed that, for one reason or another, he would not be likely +to stay longer in Cacouna than was necessary. Even when she wrote to +Mrs. Bellairs she did not give her own address, but that of the banker +through whom her money was transmitted. + +She felt sore and angry whenever she thought of Maurice. She had +perceived Mr. Leigh's embarrassed manner, and guessed, by a +half-conscious reasoning of her own, that he believed his son changed +towards them, but she did not guess on how very small a foundation this +belief rested. She had thought it right to give up, on Lucia's behalf, +any claim she had on the young man's fidelity; but to find him so very +ready to accept the sacrifice, was quite another thing. It was so unlike +Maurice, she said to herself; and then it occurred to her that Mr. +Beresford might have planned some marriage for his grandson as a +condition of his inheritance. Certainly she had heard no hint of such a +thing, and up to a short time ago she was pretty sure Maurice himself +could have had no idea of it; yet it was perfectly possible, and Mr. +Leigh might have been warned to say nothing to her about it. All these +thoughts, though Maurice might, if he had known, have been inclined to +resent them, had the effect of keeping him constantly in Mrs. Costello's +mind; and she puzzled over his conduct until she came to have her wishes +pretty equally divided; on one hand, desiring to keep to her plan of a +total separation between Lucia and him; and on the other, longing to see +or hear of him, in order to know whether her former or her present +opinion of him was the correct one. + +It happened, therefore, that Maurice was much more frequently spoken of +between the mother and daughter than should have been the case if Mrs. +Costello had carried out her theories. If Lucia had been ever so little +"in love" with him when she reached Paris, she would have had plenty of +opportunity for increasing her fancy by dwelling on the object of it; +but Mrs. Costello's wishes were forwarded by the very last means she +would have chosen as her auxiliary. Lucia talked of Maurice because she +thought of him as a friend, or rather as a dear brother. She said +nothing of Percy, but she dreamt of him, and longed inexpressibly to +hear even his name mentioned. She had heard nothing of him, except some +slight casual mention, since he went away. He had said then that, +perhaps in a year, she might change her mind; and she had said to +herself, "Surely he will not forget me in a year." And now spring was +coming round again, and all that had separated them was removed; there +was not even the obstacle of distance; no Atlantic rolled between them; +nay, they might be even in the same city. But how would he know? She +could do nothing. She had done all in her power to make their parting +final. How could she undo it now? She did not dare even to speak to her +mother of him, for she knew that on that one subject alone there had +never been sympathy between them. And she said to herself, too, deep in +her own heart, that it must be a great love indeed which would be +willing to take her--a poor, simple, half-Indian girl--and brave the +world, and, above all, that terrible old earl and his pride, for her +sake. + +Still she dreamed and hoped, and set herself, meanwhile, all the more +vigorously because of that hope, to "improve her mind." She picked up +French wonderfully fast, having a tolerable foundation to go upon and a +very quick ear, and she read and practised daily; beside learning +various secrets of housekeeping, and attending her mother with the +tenderest care. But it was very lonely. Lucia had never known what +loneliness meant until those days when she sat by the window in the +Champs Elysées and watched the busy perpetual stream of passers up and +down--the movements of a world which was close round about, yet with +which she had no one link of acquaintance or affection. It was very +lonely; and because she could not speak out her thoughts, and say, "Is +Percy here? Shall I see him some day passing, and thinking nothing of my +being near him?" she said the thing that lay next in her mind, "I wish +Maurice were here! Don't you, mamma?" + +They had been more than a month in their new home. The routine of life +had grown familiar to them; they knew the outsides, at least, of all the +neighbouring shops; they had walked together to the Arc de Triomphe on +the one side, and to the Rond Point on the other; they had driven to the +Bois de Boulogne, and done some little sight-seeing beside. They had +done all, in short, to which Mrs. Costello's strength was at present +equal, and had come to a little pause, waiting for warmer weather, and +for the renewal of health, which they hoped sunshine would bring her. + +One afternoon Claudine had been obliged to go out, and the little +apartment was unusually quiet. Mrs. Costello, tired with a morning +walk, had dropped into a doze; and Lucia sat by the window, her work on +her lap, and her eyes idly following the constant succession of +carriages down below. To tell the truth, she constantly outraged +Claudine's sense of propriety, by insisting on having one little crevice +uncurtained, where she could look out into the free air; and to-day she +was making use of the privilege, for want of anything more interesting +indoors. She had no fear of being disturbed, for they had no visitors; +in all Paris, there was not one person they knew, unless--. Percy had +been there a great deal formerly, she knew, and might be there now, but +he would not know where to find them if he wished it; no one could +possibly come to-day. And yet the first interruption that came in the +midst of the drowsy, sunny silence, was a ring at the door-bell. Lucia +raised her head in surprise, and listened. Mrs. Costello slept on. Who +could it be? not Claudine, for she had the key. Must she go and open the +door? It seemed so, since there was no one else; and while she hesitated +there was another ring, a little louder than the first. + +She got up, put down her work, and went towards the door. "I wish +Claudine would come," she said to herself; but Claudine was not likely +to come yet, and meanwhile somebody was waiting. + +"I suppose I shall have a flood of French poured over me," she thought +dolorously; but there was clearly no help. + +She went to the door, and opened it; a gentleman stood there--a +gentleman! She uttered one little cry-- + +"Maurice!" + +And then they were both standing inside the closed door; and he held her +two hands in his, and they were looking at each other with eyes too full +of joy to see well. + +"Lucia!" he said; "just yourself." But somehow his voice was not quite +steady, and he dare not trust it any further. + +"We wanted you so, and you are come. Oh, Maurice! you are good to find +us so soon!" + +"Did you think I should not?" + +"I cannot tell. How could you know where we were?" + +"I went to Chester, and asked." + +"To Chester? To my cousin's? Just to find us out?" + +"Why not? Did not you know perfectly well that my first thought when I +was free would be to find you?" + +He spoke half laughing, but there was no mistaking his earnestness in +the matter; was not he here to prove it? Tears came very fast to Lucia's +eyes. This was really like the old happy days coming back. + +"Come in," she said, "mamma is here." But mamma still slept undisturbed, +for their tones had been low in the greatness of their joy; and Maurice +drew Lucia back, and would not let her awake her. + +"She looks very tired," he said rather hypocritically; "and it will be +time enough to see me when she awakes. Don't disturb her." + +Lucia looked at her mother anxiously. She knew this sleep was good for +the invalid, and yet it might last an hour, and how could she wait all +that time for the thousand things she wanted to hear from Maurice? The +door of their tiny salle à manger stood a little open. + +"Come in here, then," she said, "we shall be able to see when she +wakes--and _I must_ talk to you." + +Maurice followed obediently--this was better than his hopes, to have +Lucia all to himself for the first half hour. She made him sit down in +such a manner that he could not be seen by Mrs. Costello, while she +herself could see through the open door and watch for her mother's +waking. + +"And now tell me," she asked, "have you been back to Canada?" + +"I started the moment I could leave England after my grandfather's +death, but when I reached Cacouna you were gone." + +"Dear old home! I suppose all looked just as usual?" + +"Nothing looked as usual to me. As I came up the river I saw that the +cottage was deserted, and that changed all the rest. But indeed I had +had a tolerable certainty before that you were gone." + +"How?" + +"Do you remember meeting a Cunard steamer two days out at sea?" + +"You were on board? How I strained my eyes to see if I could distinguish +you!" + +"Did you? And I too. But though I could not see you, I felt that you +were on board the ship we met." + +"I was sitting on deck, longing for a telescope. Well, it is all right +now. Did you bring Mr. Leigh home?" + +"Yes; he is at Hunsdon, safe and well." + +"Hunsdon is your house now, is not it? Tell me what it is like?" + +"A great square place, with a huge white portico in front--very ugly, to +tell the truth; but you would like the park, Lucia, and the trees." + +"It must be very grand. Does it feel very nice to be rich?" + +"That depends on circumstances. But now do you think you are to ask all +the questions and answer none?" + +"No, indeed. There is one answer." + +"Do you like Paris?" + +"Well enough. It is very lonely here without anybody." + +"Are you going to stay here?" + +"For a month or two, I think." + +"You will not be quite so lonely then in future--at least if I may come +to see you." + +"May come? That is a new idea. But are you going to stay in Paris, too?" + +"I must stay for a few weeks. And I expect my cousin Lady Dighton over +soon, and she wants to know you." + +"To know _us_? Oh, Maurice! you forget what a little country girl I am, +and mamma, poor mamma is not well enough to go out at all, scarcely." + +"Is she such an invalid, really? Have you had advice for her?" + +"It is disease of the heart," Lucia said in a very low sorrowful tone, +all her gaiety disappearing before the terrible idea--"the only thing +that is good for her is to be quiet and happy--and the last few months +have been so dreadful, she has suffered so." + +"And you? But I have heard all. Lucia, I would have given all I am worth +in the world to have been able to help you." + +"I often wished for you, especially when I used to fear that our old +friends would desert us. I never thought _you_ would." + +"There is some comfort in that. Promise that whatever may come, you will +always trust me." + +He held out his hand, and Lucia put hers frankly in it. + +Just at that moment there was a stir, and Mrs. Costello called "Lucia." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Mrs. Costello woke up gradually from her doze. She had been dreaming of +Cacouna, and that Maurice and Lucia were sitting near her talking of his +journey to England. She opened her eyes and found herself in a strange +room which she soon recognized, but still it seemed as if part of her +dream continued, for she could hear the murmur of two voices, very low, +and could see Lucia sitting in the adjoining room and talking to +somebody. Lucia, in fact, had forgotten to keep watch. + +Mrs. Costello listened for a minute. It was strangely like Maurice's +voice. She sat up, and called her daughter. + +Lucia started up and came into the salon. She bent down over her +mother, and kissed her to hide her flushed face and happy eyes for a +moment. + +"Are you rested, dear mamma?" she asked. + +"Yes, darling. Who is there?" + +"A visitor, mother, from England." + +"From England? Not your cousin?" + +"No, indeed. Guess again." + +"Tell me. Quickly, Lucia." + +"What do you say to Maurice?" + +"Impossible!" + +But Maurice, hearing his own name, came forward boldly. + +"I have but just arrived, Mrs. Costello. I told you I should find you +out." + +They looked at each other with something not unlike defiance, but +nevertheless Mrs. Costello shook hands with her guest cordially enough. +Certainly he _had_ kept his word--there might be a mistake somewhere, +and at all events, for the present moment he was here, and it was very +pleasant to see him. + +So the three sat together and talked, and it seemed so natural that they +should be doing it, that what did begin to be strange and incredible was +the separation, and the various events of the past six months. But after +Claudine had come in, and Lucia had been obliged to go away "on +hospitable cares intent," to arrange with her some little addition to +the dinner which Maurice was to share with them, the newcomer took +advantage of her absence, and resolved to get as many as possible of his +difficulties over at once. He had not yet quite forgiven his faithless +ally, and he meant to make a new treaty, now that he was on the spot to +see it carried out. + +"I am afraid," he began, "that my coming so unexpectedly must have +startled you a little, but I thought it was best not to write." + +Mrs. Costello could not help smiling--she was quite conscious of her +tactics having been surpassed by Maurice's. + +"I am glad to see you, at any rate," she said, "now you _are_ here; but" +she added seriously, "you must not forget, nor try to tempt me to +forget, that we are all changed since we met last." + +"I do not wish it. I don't wish to forget anything that is true and +real, and I wish to remind you that when I left Canada I did so with a +promise--an implied promise at any rate--from you, which has not been +kept." + +"Maurice! Have you a right to speak to me so?" + +"I think I have. Dear Mrs. Costello, have some consideration for me. +Was it right when I was kept a fast prisoner by my poor grandfather's +sick-bed, when I was trusting to you, and doing all I could to make you +to trust me--was it fair to break faith with me, and try to deprive me +of all the hopes I had in the world? Just think of it--was it fair?" + +"I broke no faith with you. I felt that I had let you pledge yourself in +the dark; that in my care for Lucia, and confidence in you, I had to +some extent bound you to a discreditable engagement. I released you from +it; I told you the truth of the story I had hidden from everybody--I +wrote to you when my husband lay in jail waiting his trial for murder, +and I heard no more from you. It was natural, prudent, right that you +should accept the separation I desired--you did so, and I have only +taken means to make it effectual." + +"I did so! I accepted the separation?" + +"I supposed, at least, from your silence that you did so. Was not I +right therefore in desiring that you and Lucia should not meet again?" + +"_That_ was it, then? Listen, Mrs. Costello. My last note to you seems +by some means to have been lost. There was nothing new in it; but my +father has told me that he was surprised on receiving my letter which +ought to have contained it, to find nothing for you, not even a message; +perhaps you wondered too. I can only tell you the note was written. +Then, in my next letter, written when my grandfather was actually dying, +and when I was, I confess, very angry that you should persist in trying +to shake me off, there was a message to you in a postscript which my +father overlooked, and which I myself showed to him for the first time +when I reached home and found you gone. What he had been thinking, +Heaven knows. I had rather not inquire too closely; but I will say that +it is rather hard to find that the people who ought to know one best, +cannot trust one for six months." + +Mrs. Costello listened attentively while Maurice made his explanation +with no little warmth and indignation. + +"Do you mean to say that you did not perceive how foolish and wrong it +had become for you to think of marrying Lucia?" + +"How in the world could it be either foolish or wrong for me to wish to +marry the girl I have loved all my life? Unless, indeed, she preferred +somebody else." + +"Remember who she is." + +"I am not likely to forget that after all I have lately heard about her +from Mrs. Morton." + +"And that you have a family and a position to think of now." + +"And a home fit to offer to Lucia." + +"Obstinate boy!" + +"Call me what you will, but let it be understood that I have done +nothing to forfeit your promise. I am to take no further answers except +from Lucia." + +"But you know, at least, that our worst fears were unfounded?" + +"Of course they were. I always knew that would come right. But you have +suffered terribly; I am ashamed of my own selfishness when I think of +it." + +"We have suffered. And my poor child so innocently, and so bravely. +Maurice, she is worth caring for." + +"You shall see whether I value her or not. Here she comes!" + +Lucia came in, the glow of pleasure still on her face which Maurice's +arrival had brought there. It was no wonder that both mother and lover +looked at her with delight as she moved about, too restlessly happy to +sit still, yet pausing every minute to ask some question or to listen +to what the others were saying. Indeed not one of the three could well +have been happier than they were that afternoon. Mrs. Costello felt that +she had done all she could in the cause of prudence, and therefore +rejoiced without compunction in seeing her favourite scheme for her +darling restored to her more perfect than ever. Maurice, without having +more than the minimum quantity of masculine vanity, had great faith in +the virtues of perseverance and fidelity, and took the full benefit of +Lucia's delight at seeing him; while Lucia herself was just simply +glad--so glad that for an hour or two she quite forgot to think of +Percy. + +Maurice declared he had business which would keep him in Paris for some +weeks. He claimed permission therefore to come every day, and to take +Lucia to all the places where Mrs. Costello was not able to go. + +"Oh, how charming!" Lucia cried. "I shall get some walks now. Do you +know, Maurice, mamma will not let me go anywhere by myself, and I can't +bear to make her walk; but you will go, won't you?" + +"Indeed I will," Maurice said; but after that he went away back to his +hotel, with his first uncomfortable sensation. Was Lucia still really +such a child? Would she always persist in thinking of him as an elder +brother--a dear brother, certainly, which was something, but not at all +what he wanted? How should he make her understand the difference? That +very day, her warm frank affection had been a perfect shield to her. The +words that had risen to his lips had been stopped there, as absolutely +as if he had been struck dumb. 'But I need not speak just yet,' he +consoled himself. 'I must try to make her feel that I am of use to her, +and that she would miss me if she sent me away. My darling! I must not +risk anything by being too hasty.' + +He wrote two notes that night; one to his father, the other to Lady +Dighton, which said, + +"Do come over. I am impatient to show Lucia to you. She is more +beautiful and sweeter than ever. Of course, you will think all I say +exaggerated, so do come and judge for yourself. I want an ally. All is +right with Mrs. Costello, but I own I want courage with Lucia to "put it +to the test." Suppose after all I should lose? But I dare not think of +that." + +Mrs. Costello slept little that night. A second time within a year she +saw all her plans destroyed, her anticipations proved mistaken; the +brighter destiny she had formerly hoped for, was now within her child's +grasp. Wealth, honour, and steadfast love were laid together at her +feet. Would she gather them up? Would she be willing to give herself +into the keeping of this faithful heart which had learnt so well "to +love one maiden and to cleave to her?" The doubt seemed absurd, yet it +came and haunted the mother's meditations. She knew perfectly that Lucia +had no thought of Maurice but as a friend or brother. She could not +quite understand how it had always continued so, but she knew it had. +She had never been willing to think of her child's regard for Percy as +likely to be a lasting feeling, and at most times she really did +consider it only as a thing of the past; yet to-night it came before her +tiresomely, and she remembered what Mrs. Bellairs had told her lately +about his marriage. She resolved once to ask Maurice whether he had +heard anything of it, but, on second thoughts, she decided that it was +better to leave the matter alone. + +There was yet another person on whom Maurice's coming had made a most +lively impression. Claudine, as soon after her first sight of him as she +could get hold of Lucia, had a dozen questions to ask. "Was he +Mademoiselle's brother? Her cousin then? Only a friend? What a charming +young man! How tall he was! and what magnifiques yeux bruns! Now, +surely, Mademoiselle would not be so _triste_? She would go out a +little? and everybody would remark them, Mademoiselle being so graceful, +and monsieur so _very_ tall." + +Lucia told her mother, laughing, that she and Maurice were going to walk +up the Champs Elysées next day, with placards, saying that they were two +North Americans newly caught; and when Maurice came next morning, she +repeated Claudine's comments to him with a perfect enjoyment of the good +little woman's admiration for "ce beau Monsieur Canadien." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +After that day, Paris became quite a different place to Lucia. Maurice +was with them most of every day, and every day they saw something new, +or made some little country excursion. The weather, though still rather +cold, was fine and bright; winter had fairly given place to spring, and +all externally was so gay, sunny and hopeful, that it was quite +impossible to give way either to sad recollections of the past, or to +melancholy thoughts of the future. + +Mrs. Costello's health seemed steadily, though slowly improving; she had +now no anxiety, except that one shadowy doubt of Lucia's decision with +regard to Maurice, and that she was glad to leave for the present in +uncertainty. She felt no hesitation in letting the two young people go +where they would together; they had always been like brother and sister, +and, at the worst, they would still be that. + +When this pleasant life had lasted about ten days, Maurice came in one +morning and said, + +"What do you say to a visitor to-day, Lucia?" + +Lucia looked up eagerly with clasped hands, + +"Who?" she cried. "Not your cousin?" + +"Why not?" + +"Oh, Maurice! I am afraid of her--I am indeed. I am sure she is a +_grande dame_, and will annihilate me." + +"Silly child! She is a tiny woman, with a fair little face and not a bit +of grandeur about her. You yourself will look like a queen beside her." + +"She is your very good friend, is not she?" + +"Indeed she is. Promise me to try to like her." + +"Of course, I will try. Is she really coming here?" + +"She wishes to call this afternoon." + +Lucia looked round the room. It was nice enough, and pretty in its way +with its mirrors, gilt ornaments, and imposing clock on the mantelpiece; +but it was so small! Three people quite filled it up. But she finished +her survey with a laugh. + +"If they would only let us have less furniture!" she said. "It was all +very well as long as we had nothing better than tables and chairs to +fill up the room with; but at present--" + +She finished her sentence with a little shrug, in imitation of Claudine, +which made Maurice laugh also. He proceeded, however, to warn her that +worse was in reserve. + +"Louisa will come alone, to-day," he said, "because I told her Mrs. +Costello was an invalid, but you must expect that next time she will +bring her husband, and Sir John is no small person I assure you." + +"When did they arrive?" + +"Last night." + +"How long will they stay, do you think?" + +"Two or three weeks I imagine, but I know nothing positively of their +plans." + +"And Maurice, tell me when you must go back to England? I do not want +our pleasant life to end just as suddenly as it began." + +"Nor do I. I am not going just yet." + +"But have not you quantities of affairs to attend to, you important +person?" + +"My most serious affair at present is in Paris. Don't be afraid, I am +not forgetting my duties." + +"Then we cannot go out to-day?" + +"Put on your bonnet and come now for a walk." + +"I must ask mamma, and tell her your news. She is late this morning." + +Mrs. Costello had risen late since she came to Paris. Lucia found her +dressed and discussing some household affair with Claudine. + +"Only think, mamma," she began. "Lady Dighton came over yesterday and is +coming to see you to-day." + +But the news was no surprise to Mrs. Costello, who had received a hint +from Maurice that he wished to see his cousin and Lucia friends, before +he ventured on that decisive question to which they all, except Lucia, +were looking forward so anxiously. But she was keenly alive to the +desire that her child should make a favourable impression on this lady, +who had evidently some influence with Maurice, and who, if the +wished-for marriage took place, would become Lucia's near relative and +neighbour. She said nothing at all about this, however, and was +perfectly content that the young people should take one of those long +walks which brought such a lovely colour into her daughter's pale +cheeks, and so gave the last perfecting touch to her beauty. + +Maurice left Lucia at the door, and went back to the hotel where he had +promised Lady Dighton to lunch with her. She was waiting for him, +looking more than usually fair and pretty in the mourning she wore for +her grandfather. He could not help thinking, as he came in, how rich and +handsome everything about her seemed, in contrast to the bare simplicity +of his poorer friends--yet certainly nature had intended Lucia for a +much more stately and magnificent person than this little lady. + +"Well?" she said smiling. "Have you persuaded your friends to receive +me? I can assure you my curiosity has nearly overpowered me this +morning." + +"You will be disappointed, of course. You are imagining a heroine, and +you will see only a young country girl." + +"For shame, Maurice! If I am imagining a heroine, I wonder whose fault +it is?" + +"I wish you would not form your judgment for a week. You are enough of a +fine lady, Louisa, to be a little affected by externals, and my pearl +has no fine setting at present; it will need looking at closely to find +out its value." + +"And you think, oh most philosophical of lovers! that I am not capable +of distinguishing a real pearl unless it is set in gold, and has its +price ticketed?" + +"I think, at least, that I am so anxious to see you the same kind friend +to her as you have been to me, that I am troubling myself uselessly +about the first impressions." + +"On both sides? Well, trust me, Maurice I will like your Lucia for your +sake, and try to make her like me." + +"Thank you; I know you will. And after the first, you will not be able +to help loving her." + +"Sir John is not to go with us?" + +"Not unless you particularly wish it. Where is he?" + +"Gone out shopping. Don't laugh. I suspect his shopping is of a +different kind to mine, and quite as expensive." + +"Can anything be as expensive as the charming bonnets I heard you +talking of this morning?" + +"Take care. Only hint that I am extravagant, and I will devote myself to +corrupting Lucia, and avenge myself by making your pocket suffer." + +"I wish my pocket had anything to do with it. Pray be careful, Louisa, +and remember that I have not dared to speak to her yet." + +"I shall remember. Come to lunch now. Sir John will not be in." + +Maurice tried in vain to talk as they drove slowly along to Mrs. +Costello's. The street was full of people, and Lady Dighton amused +herself by looking out for acquaintances, and saluting those they met. A +good many English were in Paris; and she had also a pretty large circle +of French people with whom she was on friendly terms; so that she had +quite enough occupation to prevent her noticing her cousin's silence. +But the moment the carriage stopped, she was ready to give her whole +attention to him and his affairs; she gave him a little nod and smile +full of sympathy as she went up the staircase, and the moment Claudine +opened the door he perceived that he might leave everything in her hands +with the most perfect confidence in her management. + +There had been a little flutter of expectation in Lucia's mind for the +last half-hour, in which she wondered her mother did not express more +sympathy; and when, at last, the door opened, she was seized with a +sudden tremor, and for an instant felt herself deaf and blind. The +moment passed, however, and there came sweeping softly into the room a +little figure with golden hair and widely flowing draperies; a fair face +with a pleasant smile, and a clear musical voice; these were the things +that first impressed her as belonging to Maurice's formidable cousin. + +Lady Dighton's first words were of course addressed to Mrs. +Costello--they seemed to Lucia to be a plea for a welcome, as Maurice's +near relation--and then the two young women stood face to face and +exchanged one quick glance. Lady Dighton held out her hand. + +"Miss Costello," she said, "you and I are so totally unlike each other, +that I am certain we were meant to be friends--will you try?" + +The suddenness and oddity of the address struck Lucia dumb. She gave her +hand, however, to her new friend with a smile, and as she did so, her +eye caught the reflection of their two figures in a glass opposite. + +Truly, they were unlike each other--very opposites--but either because, +or in spite of the difference, they seemed to suit each other. + +Half an hour spent in calling upon or receiving a call from an entire +stranger, is generally a very heavy tax on one's good humour; but +occasionally, when the visit is clearly the beginning of a pleasant +acquaintance--perhaps a valuable friendship--things are entirely +different. Lady Dighton had come with the intention of making herself +agreeable, and few people knew better how to do it; but she found no +effort necessary, and time slipped away more quickly than she thought +possible. She stayed, in fact, until she felt quite sure her husband +would have been waiting so long as to be growing uneasy, and when she +did get up to go away, she begged Mrs. Costello and Lucia to dine with +her next day. + +"And Maurice," she said, "you must persuade Miss Costello to join us in +an excursion somewhere. It is quite the weather for long drives, and our +holiday will not be very long, you know." + +"I am entirely at your command," Maurice said, "and Lucia must do as she +is bid, so pray settle your plans with Mrs. Costello." + +But Mrs. Costello said decidedly that to dine out for herself was out of +the question--she had not done so for years. + +"Oh! I am so sorry," Lady Dighton said. "But of course we must not ask +you in that case--Miss Costello may come to us, may she not? I will take +good care of her." + +Lucia had many scruples about leaving her mother; but, however, it was +finally settled that the Dightons should call for her next day--that +they should have a long drive to some place not yet fixed upon--and that +she should afterwards spend the evening with them. + +Mrs. Costello was pleased that her child should go out a little after +her long seclusion from all society; and the whole plan was arranged +with little reference to Lucia, who vainly tried to avoid this long +absence from her mother. + +The two cousins were scarcely on their road when Lady Dighton asked-- + +"Well, Maurice, am I to reserve my opinion?" + +"As you please," he answered smiling. "I am sure it is not very +unfavourable." + +"She is wonderfully beautiful; and, what is most strange, she knows it +without being vain." + +"Vain? I should think she was not!" + +"What grace she has! With her small head and magnificent hair and eyes, +she would have had quite beauty enough for one girl without being so +erect and stately. You never gave me the idea that she was so +excessively handsome, Maurice." + +"Is she? I don't believe I knew it. You see I have known her all her +life--I know every one of her qualities, I believe, good and bad; and +all her ways. I knew she had the purest nature and the warmest, bravest +heart a woman could have; but I have thought very little about her +beauty by itself." + +"Well, then, let me tell you, she only needs to be seen--she is quite +lovely; and as for the rest, I do not know yet, but I am very much +inclined to think you may be right. At all events, we are going to be +good friends, and by-and-by I shall know all about her." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Lucia came home late in the evening. Mrs. Costello, resuming her old +habits, had sent the servant to bed, and herself admitted her daughter. +They went into the drawing-room together to talk over the day's doings. + +"You look very bright," Mrs. Costello said with her hand on Lucia's +shoulder. "You have enjoyed yourself?" + +"Yes, mamma, _so_ much. You know I was a little afraid of Lady Dighton, +and dreadfully afraid of Sir John. But they have both been so good to +me; just like people at Cacouna who had known me all my life." + +Mrs. Costello smiled. She was very glad this friendship seemed likely +to prosper. Yet it was not very wonderful that any one should like +Lucia. + +"What have you been doing?" + +"We went to Versailles, and saw the gardens. We had no time for the +Palace; but Maurice is going to take me there another day. Then we came +home and had dinner; and where do you think we have been since?" + +"Where?" + +"To the theatre! Oh, mamma, it was so nice! You know, I never was in one +before." + +Lucia clasped her hands, and looked up at her mother with such a +perfectly innocent, childish, face of delight, that it was impossible +not to laugh. + +"What a day of dissipation!" + +"Yes; but just for once, you know. And I could not help it." + +"I do not see why you should have wished to help it. How about your +French? Could you understand the play?" + +"Pretty well. It was very shocking, you know. Lady Dighton says the best +French plays always are. I cried a little, and I was so ashamed of +myself; only I saw some other people crying too, so then I did not mind +so much." + +"You did not really see much of Lady Dighton, then, if you were driving +all afternoon and at the theatre all evening?" + +"Oh! yes; we had a long talk before dinner. When we came in, she said, +'Now, Maurice, you must just amuse yourself how you can for an hour. Sir +John has English papers to read, and Miss Costello and I are going to my +room to have a chat.' So she took me off to her dressing-room, and we +were by ourselves there for quite an hour." + +"In which time, I suppose, you talked about everything in heaven and +earth." + +"I don't know. No, indeed; I believe we talked most about Maurice." + +"He is a favourite of hers." + +"She says she liked him from the first. She is so funny in her way of +describing things. She said, 'We English are horribly benighted with +regard to you colonists; and my notions of geography are elementary. +When grandpapa told me he had sent for his heir from Canada, I went to +Sir John and asked him where Canada was. He got a big map and began to +show me; but all I could understand was, that it was in North America. +I saw an American once. I suppose I must have seen others, but I +remember one particularly, for being an American; he was dreadfully thin +and had straight black hair, and a queer little pointed black beard, and +I _think_ he spoke through his nose; and really I began to be haunted by +a recollection of this man, and to think I was going to have a cousin +just like him.' Then she told me about going over to Hunsdon and finding +he had arrived. She said that before the end of the day they were fast +friends." + +"He was not like what she expected, then?" + +"Just the opposite. She made me laugh about that. She said, 'I like +handsome people, and I like an English style of beauty for men. My poor +dear Sir John is not handsome, though he has a good face; but really +when a man is good-looking _and_ looks good, I can't resist him.'" + +"You seem to have been much occupied with this question of looks. Did +you spend the whole hour talking about them?" + +"Mamma! Why that was only the beginning." + +"What was the rest, then? or some of it, at least?" + +"She told me how good Maurice was to his grandfather, and how fond Mr. +Beresford grew of him. Do you know that Maurice was just going to try to +get away to Canada at the very time Mr. Beresford had his last attack? +Lady Dighton says he was excessively anxious to go, and yet he never +showed the least impatience or disappointment when he found he could not +be spared." + +"He must have felt that he was bound to his grandfather." + +"He nursed him just like a woman, Lady Dighton says, and one could fancy +it. Could not you, mamma?" + +"I don't find it difficult to believe anything good of Maurice." + +"Oh! and then she told me about Hunsdon. She was born there, and lived +there till she was married. She told me all about why Mr. Beresford left +it to Maurice, and not to her. But, mamma, I cannot understand how +Maurice can be so long away from home. I should think he must have +quantities of things to attend to; and she told me Sir John was always +busy, though his estate is not so large as Hunsdon. Only think, mamma, +of Maurice, our Maurice, having more than ten thousand a year!" + +"Well, dear, since we have come to talking of our neighbour's fortunes, +I think we had better go to bed." + +"Oh! yes; how thoughtless I am, keeping you up so. And I must be early +to-morrow, for Lady Dighton is coming to see you, and Maurice wants me +to go with him for a walk first. Not to see anything, but just for a +walk." + +Mrs. Costello lay down that night with a great feeling of content with +regard to her daughter's future. + +"Certainly," she thought, "Maurice may be satisfied with the affection +she has for him; if it is not just the kind of love he wishes for, that +is only because it has never entered her mind that he could be anything +but a brother to her. She is so excessively childish in some things! I +shall be glad now when she really does begin to understand. Only, must I +part with her? Better that than that I should leave her alone; better +even than that she should have to go among strange relatives." + +Maurice had asked Lucia to walk with him for the sake of having her +quite to himself for an hour, and perhaps of asking that much meditated +question. He had specially bargained that they were not to "go +anywhere;" but simply to choose a tolerably quiet road and go straight +along it. Accordingly they started, and went slowly up the sunny slope +towards the great arch, talking of yesterday, and of the trifles which +always seemed interesting when they spoke of them together. After they +had passed the barrier, they hesitated a little which road to take--they +had already made several expeditions in this direction, and Lucia wanted +novelty. Finally they took the road to Neuilly, and went on for a time +very contentedly. But Maurice, after a while, fell into little fits of +silence, thinking how he should first speak of the subject most +important to him. He felt that there could be no better opportunity than +this, and he was not cool enough to reflect that it was waste of trouble +to try to choose his words, since if Lucia accepted him she would for +ever think them eloquent; and if she refused him, would be certain to +consider them stupid. She, on the other hand, was in unusually high +spirits. It had occurred to her that Lady Dighton, who seemed to know +everybody, would probably know Percy. She had begun already to lay deep +plans for finding out if this was the case, and after that, where he +was at present. She had thought of him so much lately, and so tenderly; +she had remembered so often his earnestness and her own harshness in +that last interview, that she felt as if she owed him some reparation, +and as if his love were far more ardent than hers, and must needs be +more stable also. The idea that she had advanced a step towards the +happiness of meeting him again, added the last ingredient to her +content. She could have danced for joy. + +They walked a considerable distance, and Maurice had not yet found +courage for what he wanted to say. Lucia began to think of her mother's +loneliness, and proposed to return; he would have tempted her further, +but a strange shyness and embarrassment seemed to have taken possession +of him. They had actually turned round and begun to walk towards home +before he had found a reason for not doing it. + +"Lucia," he said abruptly, after one of the pauses which had been +growing more and more frequent, "don't you wish to go over to England?" + +"Of course I do," she answered with some surprise; "I wish we _could_ +go. You know I always used to wish it." + +"Why don't you try now you are so near?" + +"Surely, Maurice, you know mamma cannot go." + +"I remember hearing something about your grandfather having wished her +not to do so. Forgive me if it is a painful subject; but do not you see +that things are quite changed now?" + +"Do you think she could, then? But I _don't_ see." + +"Her father, I suppose, wished to avoid the chance of her marriage being +gossipped about. His idea of her going back to England was naturally +that she would go among her own relations and old acquaintance who knew +the story. Now, I believe that she might go to any other part of the +island--say Norfolk, for instance--and obey his wishes just as much as +by staying in Paris." + +"To Norfolk? Why, then, we should be near you? Oh! do try to persuade +her." + +"I must have you decidedly on my side then. I must be enabled to offer +her a great inducement. If, for instance, I could tell her that you had +made up your mind to come and live in Norfolk, she might say yes." + +"Ah! but she would have to make up her mind first. See Maurice," she +broke in abruptly, "what is that little building on the other side the +road? There are some people who look like English going in." + +"Don't mind that now, I want to talk to you." + +"We have been talking. Only tell me what it is?" + +"It is a chapel built on the place where the Duke of Orleans was killed +some years ago." + +"I remember now somebody told me about it; his monument is there." + +"Very likely. I know nothing about it." + +"Oh, Maurice! to speak in that tone, when it was such a sad thing." + +"There are so many sad things--one cannot pity everybody." + +"You are cross this morning. What is the matter?" + +"Nothing. What do you want me to do?" + +"Just now I want you to take me in there. I see it is open." + +There was no help; the moment was gone. Lucia's head was full of the +unhappy Duke of Orleans, and it would, have been very bad policy, +Maurice thought, to oppose her whim. He rang the bell, and they were +admitted without difficulty into the open space in front of the chapel. +The old man who let them in pointed to the half-open door, and, saying +that his wife was in there with a party, retreated, and left them to +find their own way into the building itself. They passed quietly through +the entrance and into the soft grey light of the chapel. Lucia stopped +only to take one glance of the tiny interior, so coldly mournful with +its black draperies and chill white and grey marble, and then passed +round to examine more closely the monument which marks the very spot +where the fatal accident occurred. Maurice followed her. They stood half +concealed by the monument, and speaking low, while the tones of other +voices could be distinctly heard from the recess behind the altar where +the English visitors were examining the picture of the Duke's death. +There was one rather high-pitched female voice which broke the solemn +stillness unpleasantly, and as it became more audible, Lucia laid her +hand softly on Maurice's arm to make him listen, and looked up in his +face with eyes full of laughter. The lady was talking French to the +guide with a strong English accent and in a peculiar drawl, which had a +very droll effect. It was a manner new to them both, though Maurice +could not help thinking, as he listened, of Percy in his worst moods. + +"I am glad to have seen it," the voice said, "and quite by chance, too; +it is excessively interesting, so melancholy. Ah! you say that they laid +him just there? It makes one shudder! No, I will not go near the place; +it is too shocking." + +At the last words Maurice and Lucia saw the speaker emerge from behind +the altar on the side furthest from where they stood. She was a tall +woman, neither young nor pretty, but very fashionable--distinguished, +Lucia supposed she should be called; and but for the peculiarity of her +voice, would have made a favourable rather than an unfavourable +impression on a stranger. She stopped just at the top of the steps, and +turned round to speak again to some one behind her who was still +concealed by the altar. This time she spoke English in a lower tone, and +with a greater drawl. + +"Really, Edward," she said, "it is very small. Pray don't give the +woman much; you know how heavy our expenses are. I think I ought to +carry the purse." + +"As you please, my dear; it would save me trouble, certainly." + +At the sound of that second voice Maurice started and looked at Lucia. +She had suddenly grasped at the stonework before her, and stood looking +with passionate eagerness over the carved figure of the dying Duke +towards the altar. He almost shuddered at the intensity of that +gaze--the rigidity of intolerable suspense in her whole figure; but he +could only be still and watch her. + +The unconscious Englishwoman moved on; close behind her, following her +with his old languid manner, came the man Lucia was watching for--Edward +Percy. + +Still she never stirred. They passed down the chapel with her eyes upon +them, but they never saw her, and she made no sound or movement. Only +when they were no longer in sight, everything seemed to grow suddenly +black and confused about her--her hold upon the marble relaxed, and she +would have fallen if Maurice had not gently supported her, and drawn her +to a seat close by. + +She did not faint, though she was cold and white and powerless. After a +minute Maurice, bending over her, saw that she was trying to speak. Her +lips seemed stiff and hardly able to form the words, but he made out, + +"Who is she?" + +He hesitated a moment; but she saw that he _could_ answer, and her eyes +insisted on her question. + +"She is his wife," he answered; "they were married, I believe, a month +or six weeks ago." + +Suddenly, at his words, the blood seemed to rise with one quick rush to +her very temples. + +"You knew," she said, "and would not tell me!" + +Then after her momentary anger came shame, bitter and intolerable, for +her self-betrayal. She bent down her face on her hands, but her whole +figure shook with violent agitation. Maurice suffered scarcely less. His +love for her gave him a comprehension of all, and a sympathy unspeakable +with her pain. He laid his hand lightly on her shoulder as he had often +done in her childish troubles, but one word escaped him which he had +never spoken to her before, + +"My darling! my darling!" + +Perhaps she did not hear it; but at least she understood that through +all the pang of her loss, there remained with her one faithful and +perfect affection; and even at that moment she was unconsciously +comforted. + +But the Percys were gone, and the guide was coming back into the chapel +after a word or two at the door with her husband; Maurice had to decide +instantly what to do. He said to Lucia, + +"Wait here for me," and then going forward to meet the woman, he +contrived to make her comprehend that the lady was ill; and that he was +going for a carriage. He then hurried out, and Lucia was left alone in +the chapel with the good-natured Frenchwoman, who looked at her +compassionately and troubled her with no questions. + +For a few minutes the poor child remained too bewildered to notice +anything; but when at last she raised her head, and saw that Maurice was +not there, she grew frightened. Had she been so childish and +uncontrolled as to have disgusted even him? Had he left her, too? She +tried to get up from her seat, but she could not stand. The guide saw +her attempt, and thought it time to interfere. + +"Monsieur would be back immediately," she said. "He was gone for a +carriage. It was unfortunate madame should be taken ill so suddenly." + +Lucia smiled a very miserable kind of smile. + +"Yes," she answered, "it was unfortunate, but it was only a little +giddiness." + +And there she broke off to listen to the sound of wheels which stopped +at the gate. + +It was Maurice; and at the sight of him Lucia felt strong again. She +rose and met him as he came towards her. + +"I have got a carriage," he said. "We had walked too far. Can you go to +it?" + +She could find nothing to say in answer. He made her lean on his arm, +and took her across the court and put her into the vehicle. + +"Would you rather go alone?" he asked her. + +"Oh! no, no," she cried nervously, and in a minute afterwards they were +on their way homewards. + +When they had started, she put her hand to her head confusedly. + +"Is not it strange?" she said half to herself. "I was sure we should +meet in Paris; only I never guessed it would be to-day. Across a grave, +that was right." + +Maurice shuddered at her tone; it sounded as if she were talking in her +sleep. + +"Dear Lucia," he said, "scold me, be angry with me. I should have told +you." + +She seemed to wake at the sound of his voice, and again that burning, +painful flush covered her face and neck. + +"Oh! Maurice," she cried, "it is you who should scold me. What must you +think? But, indeed, I am not so bad as I seem." + +"It is I who have been blind. I thought you had forgotten him." + +"Forgotten him? So soon? I thought he could not even have forgotten me!" + +Maurice clenched his hand. The very simplicity of her words stirred his +anger more deeply against his successful rival. For _her_ he had still +nothing but the most pitiful tenderness. + +"Some men, Lucia, love themselves too well to have any great love for +another." + +"But he did care for me. I want to tell you. I want you to see that I +am not quite so bad--he did care for me very much, and I sent him away." + +"You refused him?" + +"Not just that. At first, you know, I thought everything could be made +to come right in time--and then mamma told me all that terrible story +about her marriage, and about the constant fear she was in; and then--I +could not tell that to him--so I said he must go away. And he did; but +he told me perhaps in a year I should change my mind. And the year is +not over yet." + +Maurice was silent. He would not, if he could help it, say one word of +evil to Lucia about this man whom she still loved; and at first he could +not trust himself to speak. + +"How did you know?" she asked. + +And he understood instinctively what she meant, and told her shortly +when and where he had seen Percy, and what he had heard from the +solicitor. + +"It is the same lady, then," she said, "that I remember hearing of." + +"Yes, no doubt. I recollect some story being told of him and her, even +in Cacouna." + +Lucia sighed heavily. She had now got over the difficulty of speaking on +the subject to Maurice. She knew so well that he was trustworthy, and +for the rest, was he not just the same as a brother? + +"He might have waited a year," she murmured. "You cannot imagine how +happy I have been lately, thinking I must see him soon!" + +"Cannot I?" Maurice cried desperately. "Listen to me, Lucia! I, too, +have been happy lately. I have been living on a false hope. I have been +deceived, and placed all my trust in a shadow. Don't you think we ought +to be able to feel for each other?" + +His vehemence and the bitterness of his tone terrified her. She laid her +little trembling hand on his appealingly. + +"What do you mean?" she whispered. + +But he had controlled himself instantly. He took hold of her hand and +put it to his lips. + +"I mean nothing," he said, "at least nothing I can tell you about at +present. Are you feeling strong enough to meet Mrs. Costello? You must +not frighten her, you know, as you did me." + +"Did I frighten you? I am so sorry and ashamed--only, you know--Yes, I +can behave well now." + +He saw that she could. Her self-command had entirely returned now. Her +grieving would be silent or kept for solitude henceforward. They had +already passed the barrier, and in a minute would stop at the door. + +"I am not coming in with you," Maurice said, "I must go on now; but I +shall see you this evening." + +He saw her inside the house and then drove away, while she little +guessed how sore a heart he took with him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +As Lucia went up the staircase, the slight stimulus of excitement which +Maurice's presence had supplied, died out, and she began to be conscious +of a horrible depression and sense of vacancy. She went up with a step +that grew more tired and languid at every movement, till she reached the +door where Claudine was having a little gossip with the concierge. + +She was glad even to be saved the trouble of ringing, and glided past +the two "like a ghaist," and came into her mother's presence with that +same weary gait and white face. It was not even until Mrs. Costello rose +in alarm and surprise with anxious questions on her lips that the poor +child became aware of the change in herself. + +"I am tired," she said. "I have such a headache, mamma," and she tried +to wake herself out of her bewilderment and look natural. + +"Where is Maurice?" + +"He is gone--he is coming back this evening, I think he said." + +Mrs. Costello guessed instantly that Maurice was the cause of Lucia's +disturbance. + +"Poor child!" she thought; "it could not help but be a surprise to her. +I wonder if all is going well?" But she dared not speak of that subject +just yet. + +"You must have walked much too far," she said aloud. "Go and lie down, +darling--I will come with you." + +Lucia obeyed. She was actually physically tired, as she said, and her +head did ache with a dull heavy pain. Mrs. Costello arranged the +pillows, drew warm coverings over her, and left her without one further +question; for she was completely persuaded of the truth of her own +surmise, and feared to endanger Maurice's hopes and her own favourite +plan by an injudicious word. She did not go far away, however, and +Lucia, still conscious of her nearness, dared not move or sigh. With her +face pressed close to the pillow, she could let the hot tears which +seemed to scald her eyes drop from under the half-closed lids; but after +a little while, the warmth and stillness and her fatigue began to have +their effect. The tears ceased to drop, the one hand which had grasped +the edge of the covering relaxed, and she dropped asleep. + +By-and-by Mrs. Costello came in softly, and stood looking at her. She +lay just like a child with her pale cheeks still wet, and the long black +lashes glistening. Her little hand, so slender and finely shaped, rested +lightly against the pillow; her soft regular breathing just broke the +complete stillness enough to give the aspect of sleep, instead of that +of death. She was fair enough, in her sweet girlish beauty and +innocence, to have been a poet's or an artist's inspiration. The +mother's eyes grew very dim as she looked at her child, but she never +guessed that there had been more than the stir of surprise in her heart +that day--that she was "sleeping for sorrow." + +It was twilight in the room when Lucia woke. She came slowly to the +recollection of the past, and the consciousness of the present, and +without moving began to gather up her thoughts and understand what had +happened to her, and why she had slept. The door was ajar, and voices +could be faintly heard talking in the salon. She even distinguished her +mother's tones, and Lady Dighton's, but there were no others. It was a +relief to her. She thought she ought to get up and go to them, but if +Maurice had been there, or even Sir John, she felt that her courage +would have failed. She raised herself up, and pushed back her disordered +hair; with a hand pressed to each temple, she tried to realize how she +had awoke that very morning, hopeful and happy, and that she had had a +dreadful loss which was _her own_--only hers, and could meet with no +sympathy from others. But then she remembered that it had met with +sympathy already--not much in words, but in tone and look and +action--from the one unfailing friend of her whole life. Maurice +knew--Maurice did not contemn her--there was a little humiliation in the +thought, but more sweetness. She went over the whole scene in the +chapel, and for the first time there came into her mind a sense of the +inexpressible tenderness which had soothed her as she sat there half +stupefied. + +"Dear Maurice!" she said to herself, and then as her recollection grew +more vivid, a sudden shame seized her--neck and arms and brow were +crimson in a moment, with the shock of the new idea--and she sprang up +and began to dress, in hopes to escape from it by motion. + +But before she was ready to leave the room her sorrow had come back, too +strong and bitter to leave place for other thoughts. The vivid hope of +Percy's faithful recollection enduring at least for a year, had come to +give her strength and courage in the very time when her youthful +energies had almost broken down under the weight of so many troubles; it +had been a kind of prop on which she leaned through her last partings +and anxieties, and which seemed to be the very foundation of her recent +content. To have it struck away from her suddenly, left her helpless and +confused; her own natural forces, or the support of others, might +presently supply its place, but for the moment she did not know where to +look to satisfy the terrible want. + +She went out, however, to face her small world, with what resolution she +could muster, and was not a little glad that the dim light would save +her looks from any close scrutiny. + +Lady Dighton had been paying a long visit to Mrs. Costello, and the two +perfectly understood each other. They both thought, also, that they +understood what had occurred that morning, and why Lucia had a headache. +Maurice had not made his appearance at his cousin's luncheon, as she +expected, but that was not wonderful. Lady Dighton, however, had said to +Mrs. Costello, + +"It is quite extraordinary to me how Lucia can have seen Maurice's +perfect devotion to her, and not perceived that it was more than +brotherly." + +Mrs. Costello did not feel bound to explain that Lucia's thoughts, as +far as they had ever been occupied at all with love, had been drawn away +in quite a different direction, so she contented herself with answering, + +"She is very childish in some things, and she has been all her life +accustomed to think of him as a brother. I knew he would have some +difficulty at first in persuading her to think otherwise." + +"He can't have failed?" + +"I hope not. She has not told me anything, and therefore I do not +suppose there is anything decisive to tell." + +After their conversation the two naturally looked with interest for +Lucia's coming. They heard her stirring, and exchanged a few more words, + +"Perhaps we shall know now?" + +"At any rate, Maurice will enlighten us when he arrives." + +Lucia came in, gliding silently through the dim light. Her quiet +movement was unconscious--she would have chosen to appear more, rather +than less, animated than usual. Lady Dighton came forward to meet her. + +"So you walked too far this morning?" she said. "I think it was a little +too bad when you knew I was coming to see you to-day." + +"I did not think I should be so tired," Lucia answered, and the friendly +dusk hid her blush at her own disingenuousness. + +"Are you quite rested, my child?" Mrs. Costello asked anxiously. + +"Yes, mamma. My head aches a little still, but it will soon be better, I +dare say. I am ashamed of being so lazy." + +"Where is Maurice?" said Lady Dighton. "I expected to have found him +here, as he did not come in for lunch." + +"Has he not been with you then? He left me at the door, and said he +would come back this evening." + +"He has not been with me, certainly, though he promised to be. I thought +you were answerable for his absence." + +Lucia did not reply. Her heart beat fast, and the last words kept +ringing in her ears, "you were answerable for his absence." Was she +answerable for _any_ doings of Maurice's? Had that morning's meeting, so +strange and sudden for her, disturbed him too? She could only be silent +and feel as if she had been accused, justly accused--but of what? + +Meanwhile, her silence, which was not that of indifference, seemed to +prove that the conjectures of the other two were right. They even +ventured to exchange glances of intelligence, but Mrs. Costello hastened +to fill up the break in the conversation. + +"Is it true," she inquired of her visitor, "that you talk of going home +next week?" + +"Yes; we only came for a fortnight at the longest; and as the affair +which brought us over seems to be happily progressing, there is no +reason for delay." + +"Oh! I am sorry," Lucia said impulsively. "Maurice goes with you, does +not he?" + +"_Cela dépend_--he is not obliged to go just then, I suppose?" + +"But surely he ought. We must make him go." + +"And yet you would be sorry to lose him?" + +"Of course; only--" + +Another of those unexplained pauses! It was certainly a tantalizing +state of affairs, though, in fact, this last one did but mean, "only he +must be neglecting his affairs while he stops here." Lucia merely broke +off because she felt as if Lady Dighton might think the words an +impertinence. + +Soon after this they parted. Something was said about to-morrow, but +they finally left all arrangements to be made when Maurice should +appear, which it was supposed he would do at dinner to the Dightons, and +after it to the Costellos. + +Dinner had been long over in the little apartment in the Champs Elysées +when Maurice arrived there. The mother and daughter were sitting +together as usual, but in unusual silence--Lucia absorbed in thought, +Mrs. Costello watching and wondering, but still refraining from asking +questions. Maurice came in, looking pale and tired. Lucia got up, and +drew a chair for him near her mother. It was done with a double object; +she wanted to express her grateful affection, and she wanted to manage +so as to be herself out of his sight. He neither resisted her +man[oe]uvre nor even saw it, but sat down wearily and began to reply to +her mother's questions. + +"I have been out of town. I had seen nothing of the country round Paris, +so I thought I would make an excursion." + +"An excursion all alone?" + +"Yes; I have been to St. Denis." + +"How did you go?" + +"By rail. I started to come back by an omnibus I saw out there, but I +did not much care about that mode of conveyance, so I got out and +walked." + +"Have you seen Lady Dighton?" + +"I have seen no one. I am but just come back." + +"Maurice! Have you not dined, then?" + +"No. Never mind that. I will have some tea with you, please, by-and-by." + +But Lucia had received a glance from her mother, and was gone already to +try what Claudine's resources could produce. Mrs. Costello leaned +forward, and laid her hand entreatingly on Maurice's arm, + +"Tell me what all this means?" she said. + +He tried to smile as he returned her look, but his eyes fell before the +earnestness of hers. + +"What what means?" he asked. + +"Both you and Lucia know something I don't know," she answered. "I would +rather question you than her. Has she troubled you?" + +"Not in the way you think," he answered quickly. "I have partly changed +my plans. I shall be obliged to go back to England with my cousin. Don't +question Lucia, dear Mrs. Costello, let her be in peace for awhile." + +"In peace? But she has been in peace--happy as the day was long, +lately." + +"She is disturbed now--yes, it is my fault--and I will do penance for +it. You understand I do not give up my hopes--I only defer them." + +"But, Maurice, I _don't_ understand. You are neither changeable, nor +likely to give Lucia any excuse for being foolish. Why should you go +away? She exclaimed how sorry she was when your cousin spoke of it." + +"Did she? But I am only a brother to her yet. Don't try to win more +just now for me, lest she should give me less." + +"Well, of course, you know your own affairs best. But it is totally +incomprehensible to me." + +Maurice leaned his head upon his hands. He had had a miserable day, and +was feeling broken down and wretched. He spoke hopefully, but in his +heart he doubted whether it would not be better to give Lucia up at once +and altogether, only he had a strong suspicion that to give her up was +not a thing within the power of his will. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +The evening passed in constraint and embarrassment. Mrs. Costello was +both puzzled and annoyed; Maurice, worn out in mind and body, and only +resolute to shield Lucia at his own expense; Lucia herself more +thoroughly uncomfortable than she had ever been in her life. She partly +understood Maurice's conduct, but doubted its motives. Sometimes she +thought he was influenced by his old dislike to Percy, and that even his +kindness to herself was mixed with disapproval or contempt. Sometimes a +suspicion of the truth, so faint and so unreasonable in her own eyes, +that she would not acknowledge it for a moment, flashed across her mind; +and this suspicion had its keenly humiliating as well as its comforting +side. Besides the confusion of thoughts regarding these things, her mind +was burdened with an entirely new trouble--the sense that she was +concealing something from her mother; and this alone would have been +quite sufficient to disturb and distress her. + +So the three who had been so happy for the last few weeks sat together, +with all their content destroyed. Maurice thought bitterly of the old +Canadian days, which had been happy, too, and to which Percy's coming +had brought trouble. + +"It is the same thing over again," he said to himself; "but why such a +fellow as that should be allowed to do so much mischief is a problem _I_ +can't solve. A tall idiot, who could not even care for her like a man!" + +But he would not allow himself any hard thoughts of Lucia. Perhaps he +had had some during his solitary day, but he had no real cause for them, +and he was too loyal to find any consolation in blaming her. And it +never would have come into his head to solace himself with the "having +known _me_." He valued his own honest, unaltering love at a reasonable +but not an excessive, price--himself at a very low one; and as Lucia +understood nothing of the one, he did not wonder that she should slight +the other. And yet he was very miserable. + +Ten o'clock came at last, and he went away. After he was gone, Lucia +came to her mother's knee, and sat down, resting her aching head against +the arm of the chair. The old attitude, and the soft clinging touch, +completely thawed the slight displeasure in Mrs. Costello's heart. + +"Something is wrong, darling," she said. "If you do not want to tell me, +or think you ought not, remember I do not ask any questions; but you +have never had a secret from me." + +Lucia raised her mother's hand, and laid it on her forehead. + +"I ought to tell you, mamma," she said, "and I want to; but yet I don't +like." + +"Why?" + +"You will be so angry; no, not that, perhaps, but you will be shocked, +and yet I could not help it." + +"Help what? Do you know, Lucia, that you are really trying me now?" + +"Oh, mamma, no! I am not worth caring so much about." + +"Have you and Maurice quarrelled?" + +"Maurice! No, indeed. He is the best friend anybody ever had." + +"What is it, then?" + +"Mamma, do you remember what happened that first night at Cacouna?" + +"What first night?" Mrs. Costello pressed her hand upon her heart, which +began to beat painfully. + +"The night when you told me about my father." + +"Yes; I remember. Go on." + +"And the next day?" + +"Yes. Don't tell me that you still regret it." + +"Mamma, I have seen him again." + +"To-day?" + +"To-day. At the chapel of St. Ferdinand." + +"Did he know you? Did you speak to him?" + +"No. He did not see us. He was thinking nothing of me." + +"He ought not to think of you." + +"Nor I of him. He is married." + +"I knew that he either was, or was about to be." + +"You have heard of him, then, since?" Lucia raised her head sharply, and +looked at her mother. + +"Mrs. Bellairs told me. They had heard it indirectly." + +"If you had only told me!" Her head sank lower than before. + +"My darling, I may have been mistaken. I have been so, many times; but I +wished to avoid mentioning him to you. I hoped you were forgetting." + +"Never; never for an hour," she said, half to herself. "No, mamma, for I +thought he had not forgotten." + +"But you sent him away yourself, my child. Remember, you would not even +let me see him. He could not have supposed that you meant your answer to +be anything but decisive." + +"I did mean it to be decisive; but he refused to take it so. He said, +'Perhaps in a year;' and it is not a year yet." + +Mrs. Costello listened in utter surprise. Lucia had much to say now. +Broken words and sentences, which showed, by degrees, how her mind, as +it recovered from the shock of other troubles, had gone back to dwell +upon the hope of Percy's return, and which explained more fully why she +had been so utterly blind to the schemes which were formed around her. +In one point only she failed. She did not, with all her own faith in it, +convey to her mother the impression of Percy's real earnestness in their +last interview. That he had really loved her, she still believed; but +she did not at all understand his shallow and easily-influenced +character. Mrs. Costello, on the other hand, was predisposed to take the +worst view, and to congratulate herself upon it, since it had helped to +leave Lucia free. But not believing that the poor girl had been the +object of a genuine, though transient passion, she for once was ready to +judge her hardly, and to accuse her of having been wilfully and +foolishly deceived. + +There was a bitter pang to the mother's heart in thinking this; but the +recollections of her own youth made the idea the less improbable to her, +and made her also the gentler, even in her injustice. She said not a +word of blame, but coaxed from her child the story of the meeting that +morning, that she might find out how much Maurice had seen or heard of +the truth. He understood _all_. Lucia said so frankly, though she +blushed at the confession; he had not needed to be told, and he had been +so good! + +Mrs. Costello could have groaned aloud. It needed an effort to keep +still, and not express the anger and impatience she felt. Maurice! +Maurice, who was worth fifty Percys! Maurice, who was devoted heart and +soul to this girl; who had been content to love her and wait for her, +through good and evil fortune, through change and absence and silence, +and, after all, she had no feeling for him but this heartless kind of +gratitude! Because at the very last, when he had thought her certainly +his own, he had endured, out of his great love, to see all his hopes +swept away, and her grieving for his rival; therefore he had just so +much claim upon her--"He was so good!" + +There was little more said. When once Lucia had told her story, and when +Mrs. Costello had discovered that Maurice understood all, neither of +them cared to talk on the subject. They went to bed with a cloud between +them, after all. Mrs. Costello kept her secret still, and pondered over +the question whether there might yet possibly be hope, since Maurice had +said he had only deferred his wishes, not relinquished them. Lucia was +aware that her trouble was still her own exclusively--not shared by any +one, even her mother. She thought of Percy--she longed to know how long +he had thought of her--how, and why he had changed; and deep down in her +heart there was a little disturbed wondering at Maurice's +tenderness--that very tenderness which Mrs. Costello marvelled she did +not see. + +Maurice did not see his cousin that night. He went straight to his room, +and without thinking, locked the door, put out the candles except one, +and sat down in the gloom. His eyes and head ached--he felt weary and +utterly dispirited. He had rushed away that morning after leaving Lucia +at home, and found himself by the merest chance at St. Denis. He had got +out there because his fellow-passengers did so, though at the railway +station he had taken a ticket for a place much further on along the +line. He had looked about the little town, and seen, in a blind +blundering kind of way, the Cathedral. He had come out, with about +half-a-dozen more visitors, and seeing an omnibus starting for Paris, +had got into it, because it would take longer than the train--then after +a while had got out again, because he could not bear the slow motion and +perpetual babble of talk inside. But through all, and still more in his +solitary walk, he had been thinking--thinking perpetually; and, after +all, his thinking seemed yet to do. He would go back to England--that +was necessary and right, whatever else might be. He was wanted there, as +the pile of letters on his writing-table could testify. His father, too, +was solitary at Hunsdon--and his business in Paris was over. But the +Dightons would not go for some days, and he could not very well leave +them after they had come over for his sake. He would have to stay, +therefore, till they went; he would have to go on seeing the Costellos. +He tried to fancy he was sorry for this, but the attempt was a very poor +one. For a few days he would have to go on just as usual, and after that +he would go home, and do what? That was just the question. + +Ought he to go on hoping now? Had not he done all he could do? Was it +probable that a girl who had loved another man--and that man, +Percy--faithfully for a whole year on the mere possibility that he might +have remained faithful to her, and who had been throughout blind and +insensible to a regard deeper and purer than his had ever been, would be +able to transfer her heart whole and undivided as he must have it if he +had it at all? He dared not think it. "No, I have lost her at last!" he +said to himself, "and she is the one only woman in the world." + +Then he remembered, as if the reminder had been whispered in his ear, a +promise he had made. It was one day during Mr. Beresford's illness, when +his mind was a little clearer than usual. He had been trying feebly to +return to his old interests, and speaking in his weak broken tones, +about the future. He grew very tired after awhile, and Maurice persuaded +him to try to sleep, but there was yet another thing to be said. + +"You must marry soon, Maurice." + +"I am young, sir, there is no hurry." + +"No--only let it be soon." + +"I must first find the lady." + +"I thought I could have helped you--but it is too late." Maurice was +silent. + +"You _will_ marry?" and the old man tried to raise himself in his +earnestness. + +"I hope to do so." + +"Don't talk of hoping--it is a duty, positive duty." + +"I mean to do so, then, grandfather." + +"Say 'I will'--promise me." + +"If I both hope and intend it, sir, is that not enough?" + +"No, no. Promise." + +"Well then, I promise." + +The invalid was satisfied, and in a few minutes dropped asleep, and the +conversation almost passed from his grandson's mind. + +Now, however, he remembered it, as having bound him to something which +might be a lifelong misery. He was young still; as he had said, there +was time enough. But would any time make Lucia other than the first with +him? + +At last he got up and began to pace up and down the room, pushing first +one, and then another article of furniture aside to make room for his +walk. + +"There is at least no further reason why she should not know all" he +meditated. "Since my chance is gone, I cannot make matters worse by +speaking, and it will be a relief to tell her." He paused, dwelling on +the idea of his speaking and her listening--how differently from what he +had thought of before--and then went on--"To-morrow is as good as any +other time. To-morrow I will ask her to go out with me again--our last +walk together." + +He stopped again. At last he grew tired even of his own thoughts. He +lighted his candles again, and sat down to write letters. First to his +father, to say that he was coming home, to give him all the news, to +speak just as usual of the Costellos--even specially of Lucia; then to +his agent, and to other people, till the streets began to grow noisy and +the candles to burn dim in the dawn. + +Then he lay down, and fell into a deep, heavy sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +Maurice was scarcely awake next morning when a little note was brought +him from his cousin. It was only two or three lines written late the +night before, when she found that he did not come to their common +sitting-room. It said, "What has come to all the world? I go to Mrs. +Costello's, and find Lucia with a violent headache, and with her ideas +apparently much confused. I come home, and hear and see nothing of you +till night, when I am told you have gone to your room without stopping +for a moment to satisfy my curiosity. You will be at breakfast? I want +to see you. LOUISA." + +He twisted the dainty sheet of paper round his fingers, while he slowly +recalled the events of yesterday up to the point of his last decision, +to see Lucia to-day and tell her how grievously he had been +disappointed, and what she had been and still was to him. But then came +the natural consequence of this; he would still, afterwards, have to +meet both Lucia and her mother constantly for some days, and to behave +to them just as usual. It had seemed to him already that to do so would +be difficult; now he began to think it impossible. What to do then? To +keep silence now and always, or to speak and then go away home, where he +was needed? He must lose her sweet company--sweet to him still. He +_must_ lose it, and what matter whether a few days sooner or later? It +was better to see her once again, and go. + +He dressed hastily and went to the breakfast-room. Sir John always took +an early stroll, and might not yet be back; was not, in fact, and Lady +Dighton was there alone. Maurice only saw so much before he began to +speak. + +"I am sorry," he said, "that you expected me last night. I came in very +tired, and went straight to bed." + +"We waited dinner some time for you," Lady Dighton answered, "and you +know how punctual Sir John is; but never mind now. You are looking ill, +Maurice." + +"I am quite well. I am afraid I must go back to England though. Should +you think me a barbarian if I started to-night and left you behind?" + +"Is something wrong? Your father is well?" + +"Quite well. But--I had letters last night. I am not certain that I must +go, only I thought you ought to know at once that I might have to do +so." + +"And Lucia? What will she say?" + +"I don't know. You will not tell her, please?" + +"Certainly not. I do not like carrying bad news. But you will see her no +doubt before I do." + +Maurice hesitated a moment, and then made boldly a request which had +been in his mind. + +"I want to see her. I should like to see her this morning if I could. +Will you help me?" + +"You don't generally require help for that. But I suppose the fact is, +you want to see her alone?" + +"Exactly." + +"I own I fancied you had settled your affairs yesterday; however, I +_can_ help you, I think. Mrs. Costello half promised to go out with me +some morning. I will go and try to carry her off to-day." + +"You are always kind, Louisa. What should I do without you?" + +"Ah! that is very pretty just now. By-and-by we shall see how much value +you have for me." + +"Yes, you shall see." + +"But seriously, Maurice, you look wretched. One would say you had not +slept for a week." + +"On the contrary, I slept later than usual to-day. It is that, I +suppose, which makes me look dull. Here is Sir John. What time will your +drive be?" + +They fixed the time, and as soon as breakfast was finished, Maurice went +back to his room. He tore up the letters he had written last night, and +wrote others announcing his return home, took them to the post himself, +and then walked about in sheer inability to keep still, until it should +be time to go to Mrs. Costello's. + +He made a tolerably long round, choosing always the noisiest, busiest +streets, and came back to the hotel just as his cousin drove away. He +followed her carriage, and passed it as it stood at Mrs. Costello's +door, went on to the barrier, and coming back, found that it had +disappeared. Now, therefore, probably Mrs. Costello was gone, and now, +if ever, was his opportunity. + +When Claudine opened the door for "ce beau monsieur" she was aghast. He +was positively "beau" no longer. He was pale and heavy-eyed. He actually +seemed to have grown thinner. Even his frank smile and word of +wonderfully English French had failed him. She went back to her kitchen +in consternation. "Ce pauvre monsieur! C'est affreux! Something is wrong +with him and mademoiselle. Ma foi, if _I_ had such a lover!" + +Mrs. Costello was gone, and Lucia sat alone, and very dreary. At +Maurice's entrance she rose quickly; but kept her eyes averted so that +his paleness did not strike her as it had done others. She coloured +vividly, with a mixture of shame, pride, and gladness, at his coming; +but she only said "Good morning," in a low undemonstrative tone, and +they both sat down in silence. + +She had some little piece of work in her hands, but she did not go on +with it, only kept twisting the thread round her fingers, and wondering +what he would say; whether now that they were alone, he would refer to +Percy; whether he would use his old privilege of blaming her when she +did wrong. + +But she was not struck down helplessly now as she had been at first +yesterday. She had begun to feel the stings of mortified pride, and was +ready to turn fiercely upon anybody who should give her provocation. + +Maurice spoke first. + +"I came to say good-bye," he said. "I am obliged to go home." + +His words sounded curt and dry, just because he had such difficulty in +making them steady at all, and she looked at him in her surprise, for +the first time. + +"Not to-day? Is anything the matter?" + +"Nothing is the matter there. I told you I had business in Paris. Well, +it is finished." + +"And you are going to-day?" + +"I start this evening." + +"We shall miss you." + +She felt a strange constraint creeping over her. She could not even +express naturally her sorrow and disappointment at his going. She began +again to have the feeling of being guilty, and accused, and being eager +to defend herself without knowing how. + +"I shall not be far off, and you will know where to find me. When you +want me, for whatever reason, you have only to write and I will come." + +"But I always want you," she answered half pettishly. "You said you +would stay at least till Lady Dighton went away." + +Maurice got up and walked to the window. + +"I miscalculated," he said, coming back. "We all do sometimes, I +suppose." + +He stood in a favourite attitude, leaning with one arm on the +mantelpiece, and watching Lucia with a mixture of love and bitterness. +His last words seemed to her a taunt, and tears of anger filled her +eyes. She remained silent, and he had to speak again. + +"Do you care to know," he asked her, "what my business in Paris was?" + +"If you wish to tell me!" + +"Lucia! do not I wish to tell you everything? Could I have kept a secret +which was always in my thoughts from you, do you suppose?" + +Lucia half rose. "That is not generous," she said. "You have no right to +speak so. Yesterday you were kinder." + +"Yesterday I only thought of you. To-day I have had time to think a +little of myself." + +"No doubt you are right. Only you ought not to have come to Paris--at +least not to us. It would have been better if everything that belonged +to our old life had been lost together." + +"Which means that you are quite willing to lose me?" + +"Willing? No. But I can understand that it is better." + +"Can you? You talk of losses--listen to what I have lost. You know what +my life in Canada used to be--plenty of work, and not much money--but +still reasonable hope of prosperity by-and-by. I used to make plans +then, of having a home of my own, and I was not content that it should +be just like other people's. I thought it would be the brightest, +warmest, happiest home in the world. I _knew_ it would be if I only got +what I wanted. A man can't have a home without a wife. I knew where my +wife was to be found if ever I had one at all; and she was so sweet and +good, and let me see so frankly that she liked and trusted me, that +I--it was all vanity, Lucia--I never much doubted that in time I should +make her love me." + +He stopped. Lucia was looking at him eagerly. Even yet she did not quite +understand. "Go on," she said. + +"There was my mistake," he continued. "I might have won her then +perhaps. But there came a visitor to the neighbourhood. He was +handsome--at least women said so--and could make himself agreeable. He +knew all about what people call the world--he had plenty of talk about +all sorts of small topics. He was a very fine gentleman in fact, and you +know what I was. Well, naturally enough, he wanted amusement. He looked +about for it, I suppose, and was attracted by what had attracted +me--no--I do not believe even that, for I loved her goodness, and he +must have been caught by her beauty. At any rate, I had to go away and +leave him near her; and I heard after a while that he was gone. That was +late in autumn. Very early this year, I heard of his marriage; and I +thought she had been unharmed. + +"My grandfather died, and I was rich enough to make that home I dreamed +of, fit for its mistress. I went to find her. I found her, as I thought, +lovelier and sweeter than ever. She seemed to feel more than ever that I +was of some use and value to her--she made me believe that, next to her +mother, she loved me best in the world. I delayed asking her to be my +wife, only because our days were so happy, that I feared to disturb +them--but I thought she was certainly mine. + +"Then, all at once, this man, this Percy, who had left her in her +trouble--who was married--made his appearance, and I knew that she had +loved him all the while--that she had never cared for me!" + +Long ago, Lucia had clasped her hands before her face. She sat trembling +and cowering before this accuser. Involuntarily she said in her heart, +"This is the true love. I have been blind--blind!"--but her words were +frozen up--she bent forward as if under a blow--but made no sound. + +Maurice himself remained silent for a few minutes. He had spoken under a +strong impulse of excitement, he hardly knew how. He, too, leaned his +head upon his hand, but from under it he still watched the trembling +girlish figure, which was the dearest thing in the world to him. +Presently he saw a tear steal out from between her small fingers and +fall glittering upon the black dress she wore. He moved uneasily--he had +been surely very harsh. Another tear fell--tear of bitter humiliation, +good for her to shed--then a third. He could not endure it. She might +not love him, but that was no reason why he should turn her sisterly +affection into hate. So he went to her, and laid his hand softly on one +of hers, trying to draw it away. She let him do so after a moment, but +her face remained just as much hidden. + +"Lucia!" he said, full of distress, "Lucia! speak to me." + +She could not--all her efforts were needed to keep down the painful +swelling in her throat. She was fighting for power to say humbly, "Try +to forgive me," but he did not give her time. + +"If you would only say good-bye--only one word;" and he almost knelt +beside her, raising her cold hand half-unconsciously to his lips. + +She drew it away suddenly. His tenderness was the worst reproach of all. +Her sobs burst out without control. She rose. "No; rather forgive me," +she tried to say, but her voice was choked and hardly audible; and she +fled from the room, hurrying into her own, and fell down on the floor at +the bedside. + +Maurice waited for awhile, thinking she might come back. He sat down +near where her chair stood, and leaning both elbows on the table, tried +to calm himself after the terrible excitement. Lucia's tears and her +silence had utterly disarmed him--he called himself a brute for having +distressed her. But as time went on, and she did not return, he +remembered that he could not just then meet Mrs. Costello, and he got up +and began to walk about the room uneasily. Still, time went on, and +there was no sign of Lucia. He wished to knock at her door, but dared +not. He must go then without one good-bye! + +"That is my own fault at any rate," he said, and went away softly, +without even seeing Claudine. + +But, as it happened, Mrs. Costello was long coming back. Lady Dighton +had confided to her Maurice's wish to see Lucia alone, and the two +ladies, very happy and confidential over their schemes, both supposing +that nothing but good could come of a long talk between the young +people--prolonged their absence till more than two hours after Maurice +had returned to the hotel. So that his preparations for leaving Paris +were almost completed by the time that Lucia, hearing her mother's +entrance, came out of the solitude where she had hidden her tears and +her repentance. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Lucia tried to hide the traces of her tears, but the attempt was not +particularly successful. Mrs. Costello saw at once that something was +wrong; she asked whether Maurice had been there, and was told briefly +yes, but she delayed any other questions for two reasons. One was, that +merely saying that "Yes" had brought a quiver over Lucia's face, and the +other, that she herself was tired and had got into a habit of dreading +any kind of excitement. She felt a presentiment that there was nothing +pleasant to hear, and at the same time was quite sure that whatever +there was, her daughter would be unable to keep long from her. + +She allowed Lucia to carry away her bonnet and shawl, and arrange her +comfortably on the sofa for a rest. Then she began to describe her +drive, and the shops at which Lady Dighton had been making various +purchases. Lucia listened, and tried to be interested, and to lose the +sense of shame and mortification mixed with real compunction, which was +making her wretched. But her heart ached, and besides, she had cried, +sitting all alone on her bedroom floor, till she was exhausted and half +blind. All the while her mother talked, she kept thinking of +Maurice--she neither called him "Poor Maurice," in her thoughts, nor +"Dear Maurice"--but only "Maurice, Maurice," over and over again--her +friend who was gone from her, whom she had justly lost. + +But when she was growing more and more absorbed in her own regrets, and +her mother's voice was beginning to sound to her like one in a dream, +there came a sudden sharp ring at the door-bell. Could it be Maurice? +She grew red as fire while she listened--but the door opened and shut, +and there were no steps but Claudine's in the hall. + +The maid came in. "A letter for madame, and a packet for +mademoiselle,"--both directed by Maurice. + +Lucia took hers to the window. She scarcely dared to open it, but she +feared to appear to hesitate. Slowly she broke the seals, and found a +tiny morocco case and a note. She hardly looked at the case, the note +would be Maurice's farewell, and she did not know whether it would bring +reproach or forgiveness with it. It was not long--even with her dazzled +eyes, she was not more than a minute reading it. + + + +"My dear old playfellow and pupil"--it began--"I cannot leave Paris +without saying 'Good-bye,' and asking you to forgive me, not for what I +said this morning, but for the way in which I said it. If you cannot +love me (and I understand now that you cannot) it is not your fault; and +I ought to have remembered that, even when it seemed hardest. I cannot +stay here now; but you will recollect that if ever you _want_ me--as a +friend or brother, you know--a single line will be enough to bring me to +your help. Finally, I beg of you, for the sake of old times, to wear the +ring I send. I bought it for you--you ought to have no scruple in +accepting a keepsake from your oldest friend, MAURICE LEIGH." + + + +In the little box was the ring bought so long ago in Liverpool. It +flashed, as if with the light of living eyes, as Lucia opened the lid. +She regarded it for a moment almost with fear, then took it out and +placed it on her finger--the third finger of her left hand. It fitted +perfectly, and seemed to her like the embodiment of a watchful guardian +who would keep her from wrong and from evil. She fancied this, though +just then two or three drops fell heavily from her eyes, and one rested +for a moment on the very diamonds themselves. + +Mrs. Costello's note was longer than Lucia's, and she read it twice +over, before she was sure that she comprehended it. Then she called +sharply "Lucia!" + +"Come here," she said, as the girl turned her face reluctantly; and +there was nothing to do but to obey. Lucia came to the side of the sofa, +where her mother had raised herself up against the cushions, but she +trembled so, that to steady herself she dropped down on her knees on a +footstool. Her right arm rested on the table, but the other hand, where +the ring was, lay hidden in the folds of her dress. + +"What does this mean, Lucia?" Mrs. Costello asked in a tone which she +had never in her life used to her daughter before. "Are you out of your +senses?" + +Lucia was silent. She could almost have said yes. + +"You know of course that Maurice is gone?" + +"Yes I know it," she answered just audibly. + +"Gone, and not likely to return?" + +"He tells me so." + +"What have you said to him?" + +"Nothing." + +"Nothing! That is absurd. Why did he wish to see you alone to-day?" + +"To tell _me_ something," Lucia said with a little flash of opposition +awakened by her mother's anger. + +"Yes--I thought so. To tell you something which, to any girl in the +world who was not inconceivably blind or inconceivably vain, would have +been the best news she ever heard in her life. And you said _nothing_?" + +"Mamma, it is over. I can't help it." + +"So he says--he, who is not much in the habit of talking nonsense, says +this to me. Just listen. 'We have both made the mistake of reasoning +about a thing with which reason has nothing to do. I see the error now +too late for myself, but not, I hope, too late to leave her in peace. +Pray do not speak to her about it at all.' But it is my duty to speak." + +"Mamma, Maurice is right. It is too late." + +"It is not too late for him to get some little justice; and it is not +too late for you to know what you have lost." + +"Oh! I do know," she cried out. "But even if there had been no other +reason, how could I have been different? He never told me till to-day." +And she clasped her two hands together on the edge of the table and hid +her face on them. + +Mrs. Costello leaned a little more forward, and touched her daughter's +arm. + +"I must speak to you about this, Lucia," she said. "I do not want to be +harsh, but you ought to know what you have done. And, good heavens! for +what? A stranger, a mere coxcomb comes in your way, and you listen to +his fine words, and straight begin to be able to see nothing but him, +though the most faithful, generous heart a girl ever had offered to her +is in your very hand! _I_ was bad enough--but I had no such love as +Maurice's to leave behind me." + +Again Lucia moved, without speaking. As she did so, the ring on her hand +flashed. + +"What is that on your finger?" Mrs. Costello asked. + +"Maurice's ring. _He_ was not so hard on me." + +"Hard?" Mrs. Costello was pressing her hand more and more tightly to her +side. "Child, it is you that have been hard with your unconscious ways." + +But Lucia had found power to speak at last. + +"After all," she said obstinately, "I neither see why I should be +supposed to have done wrong, nor why anybody else should be spoken of +so. It is no harm, and no shame," she went on, raising her head, and +showing her burning cheeks, "for a girl to like somebody who cares very +much for her; and I think she would be a poor creature if she did not go +on caring for him as long as she believed he was true to her." + +The little spark of pride died out with the last words, and there was a +faint quiver in her voice. + +"Maurice would say so himself," she ended, triumphantly. + +"Of course he would. But I don't see that Maurice would be a fair judge +of the case. The question is, what does a girl deserve who has to choose +between Maurice and Percy, and chooses Percy?" + +Lucia recoiled. She could hardly yet bear to hear the name she had been +dreaming over so long spoken in so harsh a way, and still less to hear +it coupled in this way with Maurice's. + +"Maurice will soon find somebody else," she said. "He is not a poor man, +mamma, that he should mind so much." + +Mrs. Costello half rose from the sofa. Pain and anger together +overpowered her. She stood up for a moment, trying to speak, and then +suddenly fell back, fainting. + +Lucia sprang from her knees. Was her mother dead? It was possible, she +knew. Had they parted for ever in anger? But the idea, from its very +horror, did not affect her as a lighter fear might have done. She +brought remedies, and called Claudine to help her, in a kind of calm. +They tried all they could think of, and at last there came some feeble +return of life. But the agitation and fatigue of the day had been too +much for such strength as hers to rally from. One fainting fit +succeeded another, with scarcely a moment's interval. + +All evening it was the same. A doctor came, and stayed till the attacks +ceased; but when he went away, his patient lay, white and almost +unconscious even of Lucia's presence. It was terrible sitting there by +the bedside, and watching for every slight movement--for the hope of a +word or a smile. It was consolation unspeakable when, late at night, +Mrs. Costello opened her eyes, free from the bewildered look of +suffering, and, seeing her child's pale face beside her, put out her +hand, and said softly, "My poor Lucia!" + +After that she dropped asleep, and Lucia watched till early morning. It +was the first of such watches she had ever kept, and the awful stillness +made her tremble. Often she got up from her seat to see if her mother's +breathing still really went on; it seemed difficult to believe that +there was any stir whatever of life in the room. In those long hours, +too, she had time to revert to the doings of the past day--to remember +both Maurice's words and her mother's, and to separate, to some degree, +the truth from all exaggeration. Her mind seemed to go back also, with +singular clearness, to the time of Percy's coming to Cacouna, and even +earlier. She began to comprehend the significance of trifles, which had +seemed insignificant at the time, and to believe in the truth of what +Maurice had told her, that even then he was building all his hopes on +the possibility of her loving him. She wondered at herself now, as +others had wondered at her; but she still justified herself: "He was my +brother--my dearest friend. _He_," and this time she did not mean +Maurice, "was the first person who ever put any other ideas into my +head. And I have lost them both." But already the true love had so far +gained its rights, that it was Maurice, far more than Percy, of whose +loss she thought. Once that night, when she had sat quite without moving +for a long time, and when her meditations had grown more and more +dreary, she suddenly raised her hand, and her ring flashed out in the +gloom. By some instinct she put it to her lips; it seemed to her a +symbol of regard and protecting care, which comforted her strangely. + +When the night was past, and Claudine came early in the morning to take +Lucia's place, Mrs. Costello still slept; and the poor child, quite worn +out--pale and shivering in the cold dawn--was glad to creep away to +bed, and to her heavy but troubled slumber. + +All that day the house was kept silent and shut up. Mrs. Costello had +been much tried, the doctor thought, and needed a complete calm in which +to recover herself. With her old habit of self-command she understood +this, and remained still, almost without speaking, till some degree of +strength should return. Lucia tended her with the most anxious care, and +kept her troubled thoughts wholly to herself. + +About two o'clock Lady Dighton came. Hearing that Mrs. Costello was ill, +she begged to see Lucia, who came to her, looking weary and worn, but +longing to hear of Maurice. + +It seemed, however, as if she were not to be gratified. Lady Dighton was +full of concern and kind offers of assistance, but she said nothing of +her cousin until just as she went away. Then she did say, "You know that +Maurice left us yesterday evening? I miss him dreadfully; but I dare say +he thinks much more of whether other people miss him." + +She went, and they were alone again. So alone, as they had never been +while Maurice was in Paris, when he might come in at any moment and +bring a cheerful breath from the outer world into their narrow and +feminine life,--as he would never come again! 'Oh,' Lucia thought, 'why +could not he be our friend always--just our own Maurice as he used to +be--and not have these miserable fancies? We might have been so happy!' + +Towards night Mrs. Costello had greatly revived. She was able to sit up +a little, and to talk much as usual. She did not allude at all to her +last conversation with her daughter, and Lucia herself dared not renew +so exciting a subject. But all anger seemed to have entirely passed away +from between them. They were completely restored to their old natural +confidence and tenderness; and that was a comfort which Lucia's terror +of last night made exquisitely sweet to her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Two or three days passed before its former tranquillity was restored to +the apartment in the Champs Elysées. Its "_former_ tranquillity," +indeed, did not seem to come back at all. There were new elements of +discomfort and disturbance at work, even more than in the days before +Maurice came, and when Mrs. Costello both feared and hoped for his +coming. He was never mentioned now, except during Lady Dighton's daily +visit. She, much mystified, and not sure whether Lucia was to be pitied +or blamed, was too kind-hearted not to sympathize with her anxiety for +her mother, and she therefore came constantly--first to inquire for, and +then to sit with Mrs. Costello, insisting that Lucia should take that +opportunity of going out in her carriage. + +These drives gave the poor child not only fresh air, but also a short +interval each day in which she could be natural, and permit herself the +indulgence of the depression which had taken possession of her. She felt +certain that her mother, though she treated her with her usual +tenderness, still felt surprised and disappointed by her conduct. +Maurice also, who had been always so patient, so indulgent, had gone +away in trouble through her; he had reproached her, perhaps justly, and +had given up for ever their old intimacy. She was growing more and more +miserable. If ever, for a moment, she forgot her burden, some little +incident was sure to occur which brought naturally to her lips the +words, 'I wish Maurice were here;' and she would turn sick with the +thought, 'He never will be here again, and it is my fault.' + +So the days went on till the Dightons left Paris. They did so without +any clear understanding having reached Lady Dighton's mind of the state +of affairs between Maurice and Lucia. All she actually knew was that +Maurice had been obliged to go home unexpectedly, and that ever since he +went Lucia had looked like a ghost. And as this conjunction of +circumstances did not appear unfavourable to her cousin's wishes, and as +she had no hint of those wishes having been given up, she was quite +disposed to continue to regard Lucia as the future mistress of Hunsdon. + +However, she was not sorry to leave Paris. Her visit there, with regard +to its principal object, had been rather unsatisfactory; at all events +it had had no visible results, and she liked results. She wanted to go +home and see how Maurice reigned at Hunsdon, and tell her particular +friends about the beautiful girl she hoped some day to have the pleasure +of patronizing. + +Mrs. Costello had regained nearly her usual health. One day, shortly +after the Dightons left, she asked Lucia to bring her desk, saying that +she must write to Mr. Wynter, and that it was time they should make some +different arrangement, since, as they had long ago agreed, Paris was too +expensive for them to stay there all the year. + +Lucia remembered what Maurice had said to her about her mother returning +to England, but the consciousness of what had really been in his mind at +the moment stopped her just as she was about to speak. She brought the +desk, and said only, + +"Have you thought of any place, mamma?" + +"I have thought of two or three, but none please me," Mrs. Costello +answered. "We want a cheap place--one within easy reach of England, and +one not too much visited by tourists. It is not very easy to find a +place with all the requisites." + +"No, indeed. But you are not able to travel yet." + +"Yes I am. Indeed, it is necessary we should go soon, if not +immediately." + +Lucia sighed. She would be sorry to leave Paris. Meantime her mother had +opened the desk, but before beginning to write she took out a small +packet of letters, and handed them to Lucia. "I will give these to you," +she said, "for you have the greatest concern with them, though they were +not meant for your eyes." + +Lucia looked at the packet and recognized Maurice's hand. + +"Ought I to read them, then?" she said. + +"Certainly. Nay, I desire that you will read them carefully. Yes, +Lucia," she went on in a softer tone, "I wish you to know all that has +been hidden from you. Take those notes and keep them. When you are an +old woman you may be glad to remember that they were ever written." + +Lucia could not answer. She carried the packet away to her own chair, +and sitting down, opened it and began to read. It was only Maurice's +notes, written to Mrs. Costello from England, and they were many of them +very hasty, impetuous, and not particularly well-expressed missives. But +if they had been eloquence itself, they could not have stirred the +reader's heart as they did. It was the simple bare fact of a great +love--so much greater than she could ever have deserved, and yet passed +by, disregarded, unperceived in her arrogant ignorance; this was what +she seemed to see in them, and it wrung her heart with vain repentance +and regret. And, as she bent over them there suddenly arose in her mind +a doubt--a question which seemed to have very little to do with those +letters, yet which they certainly helped to raise--had she ever loved +Percy? Lucia was romantic. Like other romantic girls, she would formerly +have said--indeed, she had said to herself many times--"I shall love him +all my life--even if he forgets me I shall still love him." And yet now +she was conscious--dimly, unwillingly conscious, that she thought very +little of him, and that even that little was not at all in the strain +she would have felt to be proper in a deserted heroine of fiction. She +was not the least likely to die of a broken heart for him; she was much +more inclined to die for grief and shame at what had befallen Maurice. +So that question, which was in itself a mortifying one, rose +rebelliously in her mind--had she ever loved Percy? or had she been +wasting her thoughts on a mere lay-figure, dressed up by her own fancy +in attributes not at all belonging to it? Poor child! had she known how +many women--and perhaps men also--do the very same, the idea might not +have seemed quite so horrible to her. + +Horrible or not, she put it aside and went back to the letters. In the +earlier ones there were many allusions which seemed almost to belong to +a former existence, so utterly had her life changed since they were +written. The bright days of last summer, before the first cloud came +over her fortunes, seemed to return almost too vividly to her memory; +she would have bargained away a year of her life to be able to regain +the simple happiness of that time. It could never be done; she had +suffered, and had done some good and much evil; the past was ended and +put away for ever; she could not, for all she might give, again set +herself + + "To the same key + Of the remembered harmony." + +She closed the last letter of the little pile and put them carefully +away. Already they seemed to her one of her most valuable possessions. + +Mrs. Costello had finished writing to her cousin. She was busy with +Murray and a map of France; and when Lucia came back she called her. + +"Come here, I have half decided." + +"Yes, mamma. Where is it?" + +"Of course, I cannot be sure. I must make some inquiries; but I think +this will do--Bourg-Cailloux." + +Lucia looked where her mother's finger pointed on the map. + +"Is it a seaport?" she asked. + +"Yes, with steamers sailing direct to England." + +"But in that case, will it not be in the way of tourists?" + +"I suspect not; I have looked what Murray says, and it is so little that +it is pretty evident it is not much visited by the people who follow his +guidance. Besides, I do not see what attraction the place can have +except just the sea. It is an old fortified town, with a market and +considerable maritime trade--sends supplies of various kinds to London, +and has handsome docks; from all which I conclude that business, and not +pleasure, is the thing which takes people there." + +"Could you bear a noisy, busy town?" + +"After this I do not think we need fear the noise of any provincial +town. In a very quiet place we should not have the direct communication +with England, which is an object with me." + +"But, mamma, what need----?" + +"Every need, for your sake as well as my own. We _must_ be where, in +case of emergency, you could quickly have help from England." + +Lucia trembled at her mother's words. She dared not disregard them after +what had lately happened, but she could not discuss this aspect of the +question. + +"I must find out about the journey," Mrs. Costello went on. "If it is +not a very fatiguing one I believe I shall decide at once. We shall both +be the better, in any case, for a little sea air." + +"I shall like it at all events. I have never seen the sea except during +our voyage." + +"No. I used to be very fond of it. I believe now, if I could get out to +sit on the beach I should grow much stronger." + +"Oh, mamma, you must. What is the name of the place? Here it +is--Bourg-Cailloux. When do you think we can go?" + +"Not before next week, certainly. Do not make up your mind to that +place, for perhaps it may not suit us yet to go there." + +Lucia knelt down, and put her arms softly round her mother's waist. + +"Dear mother," she said slowly, "I wish you would go back to England." + +Mrs. Costello started. "To England?" she said, "you know quite well that +it is impossible." + +"You would be glad to go, mamma." + +"Child, you do not know _how_ glad I should be. To die and be buried +among my own people!" + +"To go and live among them rather, mamma; Maurice put it into my head +that you might." + +She spoke the last sentence timidly; after they had both so avoided +Maurice's name, she half dreaded its effect on her mother. But Mrs. +Costello only shook her head sadly. + +"Maurice thought of a different return from any that would be possible +now. Possibly, if all had been as we wished--both he and I--I might +have gone over to a part of England so far from the place I left. Say no +more of it, dear," she added quickly, "let us make the best of what we +have, and try to forget what we have not." + +She bent down and kissed her daughter as she spoke. But still these last +few sentences had furnished a little fresh bitterness for Lucia's +thoughts. Her mother's exile might have ended but for her. + +Bourg-Cailloux was next day fully decided on for their new residence. +From the time of the decision Lucia began to be very busy in preparation +for their journey, and for leaving the place where she had been too +happy, and too miserable, not to have become attached to it. Claudine, +too, had to be left behind with some regret, but they hoped to see Paris +again the following year if all should be well. Early one morning they +started off once again, a somewhat forlorn pair of travellers, and at +three o'clock on a bright afternoon rattled over the rough pavements, on +their way to the Hôtel des Bains at Bourg-Cailloux. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Summer came very early that year, and the narrow streets of +Bourg-Cailloux were full of the glare and heat of the season. The +pavements of white stones, always rough and painful to the feet, were +burning hot in the middle of the day, and outside the walls, especially +towards the sea, the light coloured, sandy roads were more scorching +still. The Hôtel des Bains, just waking up after its winter repose, had +proved but a comfortless dwelling. After two or three days, therefore, +Mrs. Costello had left it, and she and Lucia were now settled in a +lodging in the city itself. Their windows looked out on the "Place," +where a brave sea-captain, the hero of Bourg-Cailloux, stood in effigy, +and still seemed to keep watch over the place he had once defended, and +where, twice a week, the market-women came in their long black cloaks +and dazzling caps, and brought heaps of fragrant flowers and early +fruit. In the very early morning, the shadow of a quaint old tower fell +transversely upon the pavement of the square, and reached almost to +their door; and in the evening Lucia grew fond of watching for the fire +which was nightly lighted on the same tower that it might be a guide to +sailors far out at sea. The town was quiet and dull--there was no +theatre, no concerts, at present even no balls--the only public +amusement of the population seemed to be listening in the still evenings +to the band which played in front of the guard-house in the Place. There +they came in throngs, and promenaded slowly over the sharp-edged stones, +with a keen and visible enjoyment of the fresh air, the music, and each +other's company, which was in itself a pleasant thing to see. + +The journey, the discomforts of the first few days, and the second +moving, had tried Mrs. Costello extremely. She spent most of her time on +the sofa now, and had as yet only been able once or twice to go down and +sit for a while on the sunny beach, where children were playing and +building sand castles, and where the sea breeze was sweet and reviving. + +There was a small colony of English people settled in the town, mostly +people with small incomes and many children, or widows of poor +gentlemen; but there was also a large floating population of English +sailors, and for their benefit an English consul and chaplain, who +supplied a temporal and spiritual leader to the community. But the +mother and daughter kept much apart from their country people, who were +inclined to be sociable and friendly towards them. Mrs. Costello's +illness, and Lucia's preoccupation, made them receive with indifference +the visits of those who, after seeing them at the little English church, +and by the sea, thought it "only neighbourly to call." + +Their home arrangements were different to those they had made in Paris. +Here they were really lodgers, and their landlady, Madame Everaert, +waited on them. She was a fat, good natured, half Dutch widow, who took +from the first a lively interest in the invalid mother, and in the +daughter who would have been so handsome if she had been stouter and +more rosy; and in a very little while she found that her new lodgers +had one quality, which above all others gave them a claim on her good +will, they were excellent listeners. Almost every evening in the +twilight she would come herself to their sitting-room, with the lamp, or +with some other errand for an excuse, and would stay chattering in her +droll Flemish French for at least half an hour. This came to be one of +the features of the day. Another was a daily walk, which Lucia had most +frequently to take alone, but which always gave her either from the +shore, or from the ramparts, a long sorrowful look over the sea towards +England--towards Canada perhaps--or instead of either, to some far-away +fairy country where there were no mistakes and no misunderstandings. + +Between these two--between morning and evening--time was almost a blank. +Lucia had completely given up her habits of study. She did not even read +novels, except aloud; and when she was not in some way occupied in +caring for her mother, she sat hour after hour by the window, with a +piece of crochet, which seemed a second Penelope's web, for it never was +visibly larger one day than it had been the day before. Mrs. Costello +gradually grew anxious as she perceived how dull and inanimate her +daughter remained. She would almost have been glad of an excuse for +giving her a gentle scolding, but Lucia's entire submission and +sweetness of temper made it impossible. There seemed nothing to be done, +but to try to force her into cheerful occupation, and to hope that time +and her own good sense would do the rest. Hitherto they had had no +piano; they got one, and for a day or two Lucia made a languid pretence +of practising. But one day she was turning over her music, among which +were a number of quaint old English songs and madrigals, which she and +Maurice had jointly owned long ago at Cacouna, when she came upon one +the words of which she had been used to laugh at, much to the annoyance +of her fellow-singers. She had a half remembrance of them, and turned +the pages to look if they were really so absurd. The music she knew +well, and how the voices blended in the quaint pathetic harmony. + + "Out alas! my faith is ever true, + Yet will she never rue, + Nor grant me any grace. + I sit and sigh, I weep, I faint, I die, + While she alone refuseth sympathy." + +She shut the music up, and would have said, if anybody had asked her, +that she had no patience with such foolish laments, even in poetry; but, +nevertheless, the verse stayed in her memory, haunted her fancy +perpetually, and seemed like a living voice in her ears-- + + "Out alas! my faith is ever true." + +She cared no more for singing, for every song she liked was associated +with Maurice, and each one seemed now to have the same burden; and when +she played, it was no longer gay airs, or even the wonderful 'Morceaux +de Salon,' of incredible noise and difficulty, which had been required +of her as musical exhibitions, but always some melancholy andante or +reverie which seemed to come to her fingers without choice or intention. + +One day when she had gone for her solitary walk, and Mrs. Costello all +alone was lying on the sofa, trying to read, but really considering with +some uneasiness the condition of their affairs, Madame Everaert knocked +at the door. + +She brought with her a fresh bunch of flowers just bought in the market, +but she was as usual overflowing with talk. + +"It is extremely hot," she said, fanning herself with her pocket +handkerchief, "and I met mademoiselle going out. It is excessively hot." + +Mrs. Costello looked uneasy. + +"Do you think it is too hot to be out?" she asked. + +"No. Perhaps not. Certainly, mademoiselle has gone to the ramparts, and +the walk there is not nearly so hot and fatiguing as down to the beach. +Mademoiselle is very fond of the sea." + +"Yes, she enjoys it greatly. It is new to her." + +"One day, not long ago, I was coming along the top of the +ramparts,--madame has not been there?" + +"No." + +"There is a broad space on the top, and it is covered with soft green +turf quite pleasant to sit down upon. Very few people pass, and you can +see a long way out to sea. Well, one day I came along there, because +upon the grass it was pleasanter walking than on the stones in the +street, and I saw Mademoiselle Lucia who was sitting quite quiet, +looking out far away. I came very near, but she never saw me. I thought +I would speak to her just to say how beautiful the day was, and the air +so sweet, when I saw just in time madame, that she was crying. Great +big tears were falling down on her hands, and she never seemed to feel +them even. Mon Dieu, madame! I could hardly keep from crying myself, she +looked so sad; but I went by softly, and she never saw me. Mademoiselle +regrets England very much." + +"She has never been in England. She was born in Canada, and that, you +know, is very far away." + +"In Canada! Is it possible? Does madame come from Canada?" + +"Yes." + +"And it is in Canada our good father Paul has suffered so much! Oh, the +terrible country!" + +"Why should it be terrible? I have seen Father Paul, and he does not +look as if he had suffered much." + +"Not now, Dieu merci. But long ago. Madame, he went to convert the +savages--the Indians." + +Mrs. Costello started. Father Paul was a Jesuit priest--an old venerable +man--old enough, as it flashed into her mind, to have been one of the +Moose Island missionaries. Yet such an idea was improbable--there had no +doubt been many other Jesuit missions besides the one where Christian +had been trained. + +"Do you know where it was that he went?" she asked, after a moment's +pause. + +"It was in Canada," Madame Everaert repeated, "and he lived among the +savages; if madame is from Canada, she would know where the savages +live." + +"There are very few savages now," Mrs. Costello answered with a smile. +"I know where there used to be some--possibly that was the very place." + +"No doubt. I shall tell the good father that madame knows it." + +"Stay. Don't be quite sure that it is the place. Canada is a very large +country." + +"Still it is so singular that madame should come from there. Father Paul +will be delighted." + +Mrs. Costello thought a minute. She was greatly tempted to wish to see +this priest who might have known her husband. She need not betray +herself to him. For the rest, she had noticed him often, and thought +what a good, pleasant face he had--a little too round and rosy perhaps, +but very honest and not vulgar. He might be an agreeable visitor, even +if he had no other claim on her. + +"Do you think," she said, "that he would mind coming to see me? I should +be very glad to receive him." + +"I am sure he would be charmed. He likes so much to talk of Canada." + +"Will you say to him then, please, that I have lived there many years +and should be very pleased to have a chat with him about it. I might be +able to give him news." + +Madame Everaert was delighted. She went away quite satisfied to find +Father Paul at the very earliest opportunity, and to deliver to him with +_empressement_ Mrs. Costello's invitation. + +Lucia, meanwhile, took her usual walk. She went quickly along the stony +streets and climbed up the grassy side of the rampart. It was all still +and solitary, and she sat down where there lay before her a wide stretch +of perfectly level country, only broken by the lines of the old +fortifications, and bordered by the sea. In the clear morning sunshine, +she could distinguish the white foam where the waves broke against the +wooden pier, and out on the blue waters there were white shining specks +of sails. Ships coming and going, and on the beach moving groups of +people--everywhere something that had life and motion and looked on to a +future, an object beyond this present moment--everywhere but here with +her. + +"Oh," she said to herself, "how wearisome life is! What good to myself +or to anybody else is this existence of mine? Am I never either to be +good or happy again? Happy, I suppose that does not so much matter--but +good? If people are wrong once, can they never get right again? I used +to think I should like to be a Sister of Mercy--and now that is all that +is left for me, I do not feel any inclination for it. I don't think I +have a vocation even for that." + +And at this point she fell into a lower depth of melancholy--one of +those sad moods which, at eighteen, have even a kind of charm in their +exaggeration. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +A day or two later there came, forwarded from Paris, an English letter +for Mrs. Costello. It arrived in the evening, at a time when they had no +expectation of receiving anything, and Madame Everaert brought it up, +and delivered it into Mrs. Costello's own hand, so that Lucia was not +near enough to see from whom it came. The general appearance of the +letter made her think it was English, and she knew that Mr. Wynter had +their present address and would not write to Paris. So she felt a +half-joyful, half-frightened suspicion that it must be from Maurice, and +her idea was confirmed by her mother's proceedings. For Mrs. Costello +having looked at the address, put the letter quietly in her pocket, and +went on talking about Father Paul, from whom they were expecting a +visit. + +Lucia could hardly restrain herself. It was clear that Mrs. Costello did +not mean to open the letter before her, or to tell her whence it came; +but her anxiety to know was only increased by this certainty. She had +almost made up her mind to ask plainly whether it was from Maurice, when +the door opened and the old priest came in. + +He was a fine-looking, white-haired man of more than seventy, to whom +the long black robe seemed exactly the most suitable dress possible, and +he had a good manner too, which was neither that of a mere priest, nor +of a mere gentleman, but belonged to both. The first few minutes of talk +made Mrs. Costello sure that she did not repent having invited his +acquaintance; a fact which had been in some little doubt before. + +She had said to him, "Madame Everaert told me you knew Canada, and, as +we are Canadians, I could not resist the wish to see one who might still +feel an interest in our country," and this turned the conversation +immediately to what she desired to hear. + +He answered her with a smile, "Probably my knowledge of Canada is very +different from yours; mine is almost entirely confined to the wilder +and less settled parts--to the Indian lands, in fact." + +"In Upper Canada?" + +"Yes. And then it is many years since I returned." + +"I have lived for twenty years in Upper Canada; and of some of the +Indians, the Ojibways of Moose Island, I have heard a great deal; +perhaps you know them?" + +The priest's eye brightened, but next moment he sighed. + +"The very place!" he said. "Unhappy people! But I am forgetting that +you, madame, are not likely to share my feelings on the subject." + +"I do not know," Mrs. Costello answered, "that we should be wholly +disagreed. I have heard, I may almost say I know myself, much of your +mission there." + +"Is it possible? Can any good remain still?" + +"One of your old pupils died lately, and in his last hours he remembered +nothing so well as your teaching." + +Her voice shook; this sudden mention of her husband, voluntary as it +was, agitated her strongly. Father Paul saw it and wondered, but +appeared to see nothing. + +"Poor boys! You console me, madame, for many sad thoughts. I was a young +man then, and, as you see, I am now a very old one, but I have known few +more sorrowful days than the one when I left Moose Island." + +"Yet it must have been a hard and wearisome life?" + +"Hard?--Yes--but not wearisome. We were ready to bear the hardness as +long as we hoped to see the fruit of our labours. I thought there had +been no fruit, or very little; but you prove to me that I was too +faithless." + +Mrs. Costello remained a moment silent. She was much inclined to trust +her guest with that part of her story which referred to Christian--no +doubt he was in the habit of keeping stranger secrets than hers. + +While she hesitated he spoke again. + +"But the whole face of the country must have changed since I knew it. +Did you live in that neighbourhood?" + +"For several years--all the first years of my married life, I lived on +Moose Island itself, and my daughter--come to me a moment, Lucia,--was +born there." + +She took Lucia's hand and drew her forward. The remaining daylight fell +full upon her dark hair and showed the striking outlines of her face and +graceful head. + +Father Paul looked in amazement--looked from the daughter to the mother, +and the mother to the daughter, not knowing what to think or say. + +Mrs. Costello relieved his embarrassment. + +"My marriage was a strange one," she said. "The old pupil of whom I +spoke to you just now, was my husband." + +"Your husband, madame? Do I understand you? Mademoiselle's father then +was--" + +"An Indian." + +He remained dumb with astonishment, not willing to give vent to the +exclamations of surprise and almost sorrow which he felt might be +offensive to his hostess, while she told him in the fewest possible +words of her marriage to Christian and separation from him. + +There was one thought in the old priest's mind, which had never, at +anytime, occurred to Mrs. Costello--Christian had been destined for the +Church. He had taken no vows, certainly; but for years he had been +trained with that object, and at one time his vocation had seemed +remarkably clear and strong--his marriage, at all, therefore, seemed to +add enormity to his other guilt. + +And yet there was a sort of lurking tenderness for the boy who had been +the favourite pupil of the mission--who had seemed to have such natural +aptitude for good of all sorts, until suddenly the mask dropped off, and +the good turned to evil. It might be that his misdoings were but the +result of a temporary possession of the evil one himself, and that at +last all might have been well. + +Mrs. Costello spoke more fully as she saw how deep was the listener's +interest in her story; yet, when she came near the end, she almost +shrank from the task. The sacred tenderness which belongs to the dead, +had fallen like a veil over all her last memories of her husband; and +now she wanted to share them with this good old man, whose teaching had +made them what they were. + +More than once she had to stop, to wait till her voice was less +unsteady, but she went on to the very end--even to that strange burial +in the waters. When all was told, there was a silence in the room; +Father Paul had wet eyes, unseen in the dusk, and he did not care to +speak; Lucia, whose tears were very ready of late; was crying quietly, +with her head lying against the end of the sofa, while Mrs. Costello, +leaning back on her cushions, waited quietly till the painful throbbing +of her heart should subside. + +At last Lucia rose and stole out of the room. She went to her own, and +lay down on her bed still crying, though she could hardly tell why. Her +trouble about the letter still haunted and worried her, and her spirit +was so broken that she was like a sick child, neither able nor anxious +to command herself. + +Meanwhile the lamp had been brought into the sitting-room, and the two +elder people had recommenced their conversation. It was of a less +agitating kind now, but the subject was not very different, and both +were deeply interested, so that time passed on quickly, and the evening +was gone before they were aware. When Father Paul rose to go, he said, +"Madam, I thank you for all you have told me. Your secret is safe with +me; but I beg your permission to share the rest of your intelligence +with one of my brothers--the only survivor except myself of that +mission. If you will permit me, I shall visit you again--I should like +much to make friends with mademoiselle, your daughter. She recalls to +me strongly the features of my once greatly loved pupil." + +With this little speech he departed, and left Mrs. Costello to wonder +over this last page in her husband's history. Only a year ago how little +would she have believed it possible that a man respectable, nay, +venerable, as this old priest, would have thought kindly of Lucia for +her father's sake! + +After a little while she got up and went to look for her daughter. She +found her sitting at a window, looking forlornly out at the lights and +movements in the place, and not very ready to meet the lamplight when +she came back into the sitting-room. Still, however, she heard nothing +of the letter, nor even when she bade her mother good night and lingered +a little at the very last, hoping for one word, even though it might be +a reproach, to tell her that it was from Maurice. + +She had to go to her room disconsolate. She heard Mrs. Costello go to +hers, and close the door. + +'Now,' she thought, 'it will be opened. It cannot be from _him_, or +mamma could not have waited so long. But I don't know; she has such +self-command! I used to fancy I could be patient at great need--and I am +not one bit.' + +However, as waiting and listening for every sound brought her no nearer +to the obtaining of her wishes, she undressed and lay down, and began to +try to imagine what the letter could be. Gradually, from thinking, she +fell into dreaming, and dropped into a doze. + +But before she was sound asleep, the door opened, and Mrs. Costello +shading her candle with her hand, came into the room. Lucia had been so +excited that the smallest movement was sufficient to awake her. She +started up and said, "What is it mamma?" in a frightened voice. + +"It is late," Mrs. Costello said. "Quite time you were asleep, but I am +glad you are not. Lie down. I shall sit here for a few minutes and tell +you what I want to say." + +Lucia obeyed. She saw that her mother had a paper in her hand--no doubt +the letter. Now she should hear. + +"I had a letter to-night," her mother went on. "I dare say you wondered +I did not open it at once. The truth was, I saw that it was in Mr. +Leigh's writing, and I had reason to feel a little anxious as to what he +might say." + +"Yes, mamma." + +Lucia could say no more; but she waited eagerly for the news that must +be coming--news of Maurice. + +"I shall give you the letter to read. Bring it back to me in the +morning; but before you do so, think well what you will do. I would +never ask you to be untrue to yourself in such a matter; but I entreat +you to see that you do know your own mind, and to use your power of +saying yes or no, if you should ever have it, not like a foolish girl, +but like a woman, who must abide all her life by the consequences of her +decision." + +Mrs. Costello kissed her daughter's forehead, lighted the candle which +stood on a small table, and leaving the letter beside it, went softly +away. + +The moment the door closed, Lucia eagerly stretched out her arm and took +the letter. Her hands trembled; the light seemed dim; and Mr. Leigh's +cramped old-fashioned handwriting was more illegible than ever; but she +read eagerly, devouring the words. + +"My dear Mrs. Costello,--You may think, perhaps, that I ought not to +interfere in a matter in which I have not been consulted; but you know +that to us, who have in all the world nothing to care for but one only +child, that child's affairs are apt to be much the same as our own. + +"Maurice told me, just before we left Canada, what I might have been +certain of long before if I had not been a stupid old man--that it was +the hope of his life to marry your Lucia. He went to Paris, certainly, +with the intention of asking her to marry him; and he came back quite +unexpectedly, and looking ten years older--so changed, not only in +looks, but in all his ways of speaking and acting, that it was clear to +me some great misfortune had happened. Still he said very little to me, +and it appears incredible that Lucia can have refused him. Perhaps that +seems an arrogant speech for his father to make--but you will understand +that I mean if she knew how constantly faithful he has been to her ever +since they were both children;--and if she has done so in some momentary +displeasure with him (for you know they used to have little quarrels +sometimes), or if they have parted in anger, I beg of you, dear Mrs. +Costello, for the sake of his mother, to try to put things right between +them. + +"I must tell you plainly that I am writing without my son's knowledge. I +would very much rather he should never know I have written; but I have +been urged to do it by some things that have happened lately. + +"Some time ago Maurice, speaking to me of Mr. Beresford's will, told me +that there had been a little difficulty in tracing one of the persons +named as legatees. This was a cousin of Mr. Beresford's, with whom he +seems to have had very little acquaintance, and no recent intercourse +whatever; although, except Lady Dighton, she was the nearest relative he +had. The lawyers discovered, while Maurice was in Canada, that this lady +herself was dead. Her marriage had been unfortunate, and she had a +spendthrift son, to whom, as his mother's heir, the money left by Mr. +Beresford passed; but it appeared that she had also a daughter, who was +in unhappy circumstances, being dependent on some relation of her +father. Maurice, very naturally and properly, thought that, as head of +the family, it was his duty to arrange something for this lady's +comfort; and accordingly, being in London, where she lives, he called on +her. She has since then been in this neighbourhood, and I have seen her +several times. She is a young lady of agreeable appearance and manners, +and seems qualified to become popular, if she were in a position to do +so. I should not have thought of this, however, if it had not been for a +few words Maurice said to me one day. I asked him some question about +marrying, hoping to hear some allusion to Lucia, but he said very +gravely that he should certainly marry some time; he had promised his +grandfather to do so. Then he said suddenly, 'What would you think of +Emma Landor for a daughter-in-law?' 'Emma Landor?' I answered; 'what has +put her into your head?' 'Just this, sir,' he said; 'if I am to marry as +a duty, I had better find somebody to whom I shall do some good, and not +all evil, by marrying them. Emma would enjoy being mistress here; she +would do it well, too; and having Hunsdon, she would not miss anything +else that might be wanting.' With that he went out of the room; and +after awhile I persuaded myself that he meant nothing serious by what he +had said. However, Lady Dighton has spoken to me of the same thing +since. Both she and I are convinced now that Maurice thinks--you may be, +better then we are, able to understand why--that he has lost Lucia, and +that, therefore, a marriage of convenience is all that he can hope for. +Perhaps I am mistaken, or, at all events, too soon alarmed; but the +mere idea of his proposing to this young lady throws me into a panic. If +she should accept him (and Lady Dighton thinks she probably would), it +would be a life-long misery. I am old-fashioned enough to think it would +be a sin. He will not do it yet; perhaps he may see you again before he +does. Do, I entreat of you, use the great influence you have always had +with him to set things right. I have written a very long letter, because +I could not ask your help without explaining; but I trust to your +kindness to sympathize with my anxiety. Kindest regards to Lucia." + +Lucia put down the paper. The whole letter, slowly and painfully +deciphered, seemed to make no impression on her brain. She lay still, +with a sort of stunned feeling, till the sense of what she had read came +to her fully. + +"Oh, Maurice!" she cried under her breath, "I want you! Come back to me! +She shall never have you! You belong to me!" She covered her face with +her hands, ashamed of even hearing her own words; then she got up and +went across to her window, and looked out at the light burning on the +tower--the light which shone far across the sea towards England. But +presently she came back, and reached her little desk--Maurice's gift +long ago--and knelt down on the floor, and wrote, kneeling,-- + + + + "Dear Maurice, you promised that if ever I wanted you, you would + come. I want you now more than ever I did in my life. Please, please + come. + "LUCIA." + + + +Then she leaned her head down till it almost touched the paper, and +stayed so for a few minutes before she got up from her knees and +extinguished her candle. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +In the morning, when Lucia woke, her note to Maurice lay on the open +desk, where she had left it, and was the first thing to remind her of +what she had heard and done. She went and took it up to destroy it, but +laid it down again irresolutely. + +"I do want him," she said to herself. "Without any nonsense, I ought to +see him again before he does anything. I ought to tell him I am sorry +for being so cross and ungrateful; and if he were married, or even +engaged, I could not do it; it would be like confessing to a stranger." + +There was something very like a sob, making her throat swell as she +considered. He would perhaps see them again, Mr. Leigh said. Ought she +to trust to that chance? But then her courage might fail if he came +over just like any ordinary visitor; and her young cousins from Chester +were coming; and if they should be there, it would be another hindrance. +"And, oh! I must see him again," she said, "and find out whether we are +not to be brother and sister any more." + +She said "brother and sister" still, as she had done long ago; but she +knew very well in her heart now, that _that_ had never been the +relationship Maurice desired. And so she tore her note into little bits, +and remained helpless, but rebelling against her helplessness. In this +humour she went to her mother's room. + +Mrs. Costello was not yet up. Lucia knelt down by the bedside, and laid +Mr. Leigh's letter beside her. + +"Mamma, I am very sorry," she said; "I think Mr. Leigh must have been +very unhappy before he would write to you so." + +"I agree with you. He is not a man to take fright without cause, +either." + +"Why do you say, 'to take fright?'" + +"Why do I say so? Are you such a child still, that you cannot understand +a man like Maurice, always so tender towards women--Quixotically so, +indeed--making himself believe that he is doing quite right in marrying +a poor girl in Miss Landor's position, when, in fact, he is doing a +great wrong? It is a double wrong to her and to himself; and one for +which he would be certain to suffer, whether she did or not. And, Lucia +I must say it, whatever evil may come of it, now or in the future, is +our fault." + +"Oh, mamma! mamma, don't say 'our'--say 'your'--if it is mine--for +certainly it is not yours." + +"I will say your fault, then; I believe you feel it so." + +"But, mamma, really and truly, is it anybody's fault? Don't people often +love those who can't care for them in return?" + +"Really and truly, quite honestly and frankly, Lucia, was that the case +with you?" + +Lucia's eyes fell. She could not say yes. + +"I will tell you," Mrs. Costello went on, "what I believe to be the +truth, and you can set me right if I am wrong. You knew that Maurice had +always been fond of you--devoted to you, in a way that had come by use +to seem natural; and it had never entered your mind to think either how +much of your regard he deserved, or how much he really had. I will not +say anything about Percy; but I do believe," and she spoke very +deliberately, laying her hand on Lucia's, "that since Maurice went away, +you have been finding out that you had made a mistake, and that your +heart had not been wrong nearly so much as your imagination." + +Lucia was still silent. If she had spoken at all, it must have been to +confess that her mother was right, and that was not easy to do. Whatever +suspicions she might have in her own heart, it was a mortifying thing to +be told plainly that her love for Percy was a mistake--a mere +counterfeit--instead of the enduring devotion which it ought to have +been. But she was very much humbled now, and patiently waited for what +her mother might say next. + +"Well!" Mrs. Costello began again, "it is no use now to go on talking of +the past. The question is rather whether anything can be done for the +future. What do you say?" + +"What can I say, mamma? What can I do?" + +"I don't know. Maurice used to tell me of his plans, but he is not +likely to do that now. I would write and ask him to come over, but it is +more than doubtful whether he would come." + +"He promised that if ever I wanted him he would come," Lucia said, +hesitating. + +"If you were in need of him I am sure he would, but it would be a kind +of impertinence to send for him on that plea when it was not really for +that." + +"But it _is_. Mamma, don't be angry with me again! Don't be disgusted +with me; but I want, so badly, to see him and tell him I behaved +wrongly. I was so cross, so ungrateful, so _horrid_, mamma, that it was +enough to make him think all girls bad. I should _like_ to tell him how +sorry I am; I feel as if I should never be happy till I did." + +When, after this outbreak, Lucia's face went down upon her hands, Mrs. +Costello could not resist a little self-gratulatory smile. 'All may come +right yet,' she thought to herself, 'if that wilful boy will only come +over.' + +"I think you are right," she said aloud. "Possibly he may come over, and +then you will have an opportunity of speaking to him, perhaps." + +"Yes," Lucia said, very slowly, thinking of her note, and of the comfort +it would have been if she _could_ but have sent it. "Oh, mamma, if we +were but in England!" + +"Useless wishes, dear. Give me your advice about writing to Mr. Leigh." + +"You will write, will you not?" + +"I suppose I must. Yet it is a difficult letter for me to answer." + +"Could not you just say 'I will do what I can?'" + +"Which is absolutely nothing--unless Maurice should really pay us a +visit here, a thing not likely at present." + +So the conversation ended without any satisfaction to Lucia. Nay, all +her previous days had been happy compared to this one. She was devoured +now, by a restless, jealous curiosity about that Miss Landor whom Mr. +Leigh feared--she constantly found her thoughts reverting to this +subject, however she might try to occupy them with others, and the +tumult of her mind reacted upon her nerves. She could scarcely bear to +sit still. It rained all afternoon and evening, and she could not go +out, so that in the usual course of events she would have read aloud to +her mother part of the time, and for the other part sat by the window +with her crochet in her hand, but to-day she wandered about perpetually. +She even opened the piano and began to sing her merriest old songs, but +that soon ceased. She found the novel they were reading insufferably +stupid, and took up a volume of Shakespeare for refreshment, but it +opened naturally to the 'Merchant of Venice,' and, to the page where +Portia says:-- + + "Though for myself alone, + I would not be ambitious in my wish, + To wish myself much better, yet for you + I would be trebled twenty times myself; + A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich; + That only to stand high on your account, + I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, + Exceed account." + +She shut the book--yes, this was a true woman, who for true love thought +herself and all she possessed too little to give in return; but for the +little, foolish, blind souls that could not see till too late, what +_was_ true love, she was no fit company. + +The evening passed on wearily, and Mrs. Costello, who had her own share +of disquiet also, though it was mixed with a little amusement at the +impetuosity of these young people, who were so dear to her and so +troublesome, did very little in the way of consolation. + +Next day, the weather had cleared again, and was very lovely. In the +afternoon, Lucia persuaded Mrs. Costello to go with her to the beach. +There they got chairs, and sat for a long while enjoying the gay, and +often comical, scene round them. Numbers of people were bathing, and +beside the orthodox bathers, there was a party of little boys wading +about with bare legs, and playing all sorts of pranks in the water. + +A little way to the left of where they sat, there was a curious kind of +wooden pier, which ran far away out into the sea and terminated in a +small square wooden building. The whole thing was raised on piles about +five or six feet above the present level of the water which flowed +underneath it. The pier itself, in fact, was only a narrow bridge or +footpath railed partly on one side only, partly on both, and with an +oddly unsafe and yet tempting look about it. Lucia had been attracted by +it before, and she drew her mother's attention to it now-- + +"Look, mamma," she said, "does not it seem as if one could almost cross +the Channel on it, it goes so far out. See that woman, now--I have +watched since she started from this end, and now you can scarcely +distinguish her figure." + +"There is a priest coming along it--is it not Father Paul?" + +"I do believe it is. I wish he would come and talk to you for a little +while, and then I would go." + +"You need not stay for that, dear. I shall sit here alone quite +comfortably, if you wish to go out there." + +"I should like very much to go. I want to see what the sea looks like +away from the beach. There is no harm, is there?" + +"None whatever. Go, and I will watch you." + +Lucia rose to go. + +"It _is_ Father Paul," she said, "and he is coming this way." + +She lingered a minute, and the priest, who had recognized them, came up. + +Mrs. Costello told him of Lucia's wish to go out on the pier, and he +assured her she would enjoy it. + +"The air seems even fresher there than here," he said; and she went off, +and left him and her mother together. + +For a few minutes they talked about the weather, the sea, and the people +about them, as two slight acquaintances would naturally do; but then, +when there had been a momentary pause, Father Paul startled Mrs. +Costello, by saying, + +"Last night, madam, you told me of persons I had not heard of for +years--this morning, strangely enough, I have met with a person of whom +you probably know something--or knew something formerly." + +"I?" she answered. "Impossible! I know no one in France." + +"This is not a Frenchman. He is named Bailey, an American, I believe." + +"Bailey?" Mrs. Costello repeated, terrified. "Surely he is not here?" + +"There is a man of that name here--a miserable ruined gambler, who says +that he knows Moose Island, and once travelled in Europe with a party of +Indians." + +"And what is he doing now?" + +"Nothing. He is the most wretched, squalid object you can imagine. He +came to me this morning to ask for the loan of a few francs. He had not +even the honesty to beg without some pretence of an intention to pay." + +"Is he so low then as to need to beg?" + +"Madame, he is a gambler, I repeat it. If he had a hundred francs +to-night, he would most likely be penniless to-morrow morning." + +"And he claimed charity from you because of your connection with +Canada?" + +"Exactly. Having no other plea. I was right, madame: you know this man?" + +"He was my bitterest enemy!" she answered, half rising in her vehemence. +"But for him I might have had a happy life." + +Father Paul looked shocked. + +"Forgive me," he said, in a troubled voice, "I am grieved to have spoken +of him." + +"On the contrary, I am thankful you did so. If I had met him by chance +in the street, I believe he could not change so much that I should not +know him, and he--" + +She stopped, then asked abruptly, + +"You did not mention me?" + +"Most assuredly not." + +"Yet he might recognise me. What shall I do?" + +She was speaking to herself, and not to her companion now, and she +looked impatiently towards the pier where Lucia was slowly coming back. + +Presently she recovered herself a little, and asked a few more +questions about Bailey. She gathered from the answers that he had been +some time at Bourg-Cailloux, getting gradually more poverty-stricken and +utterly disreputable. That he was now wandering about without a home, or +money even for gambling. She knew enough of the man to be certain that +under such circumstances he would snatch at any means of obtaining +money, and what means easier, if he only knew it, than to threaten and +persecute her. And at any moment he might discover her--her very +acquaintance with Father Paul might betray her to him. She cast a +terrified look over all the groups of people on the beach, half +expecting to see the well-remembered features of Bailey among them; but +he was not there. Close by her, however, stood Lucia, and at a little +distance the carriage, which had been ordered to fetch them, was just +drawing up. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Mrs. Costello said nothing to Lucia on their way home about Bailey. She +sat in her corner of the carriage, leaning back and thinking +despairingly what to do. Her spirits had so far given way with her +failing health that she no longer felt the courage necessary to face +annoyance. And it was plainly to be feared that in case this man +discovered her, he would have no scruples, being so needy and degraded, +about using every means in his power to extort money from her. +Undoubtedly he had such means--he had but to tell her story, as he +_could_ tell it, and not only her own life, but Lucia's, would be made +wretched; the separation from Maurice, which she was beginning to hope +might be only temporary, would become irrevocable--and, what seemed to +her still more terrible, there would be perpetual demands from her +enemy, and the misery of perpetual contact with him. To buy off such a +man, at once and finally, was, she knew, utterly beyond her power--what +then could she do? + +When they were at home, and the door of their sitting-room safely +closed, she turned anxiously to Lucia, + +"Bailey is here," she said. + +"Bailey?" Lucia repeated--she had forgotten the name. + +"The man who was present at my marriage--the American." + +"Mamma! How do you know?" + +"Father Paul told me just now." + +"How did he know?" + +"The wretched man had gone to him begging, and he mentioned him to me by +chance, thinking I might know something about him." + +"But surely he would not remember you?" + +"I think he would. If by any accident he met you and me together, I am +certain he would." + +"Ah! I am so like my father." + +"Lucia, I _dare_ not meet him. I believe the very sight of him would +kill me." + +"Let us go away, mamma. He knows nothing about us yet. We might start +to-morrow." + +"Where should we go? Even at our own door we might meet him, at the +railway station--anywhere. No, it is only inside these walls we are +safe, and scarcely here." + +Mrs. Costello was literally trembling, the panic which had seized her +was so great; Lucia, not fully understanding yet, could not help being +infected by her terror. + +"But, mamma, we cannot shut ourselves up in these rooms. That, with the +constant fear added to it, would soon make you ill again." + +"What can we do?" Mrs. Costello repeated helplessly. "If, indeed, we +could start to-night, and go south, or go out of France altogether. But +I have not even money in the house for our journey." + +"And if you had, you have not strength for it. Would not it be well to +consult Mr. Wynter? If we had any friend here who would make the +arrangement for us, I don't see why we should not be able to go away +without any fear of meeting this man." + +"No; that would not do. To consult George would just be opening up again +all that was most painful--it would be almost as bad as meeting Bailey +himself." + +"And we could not be stopped even if we did meet Bailey. Let me go +alone, mamma, and do what is to be done--it is not much. If I meet him I +shall not know it, and seeing me alone, the likeness cannot be so strong +as to make him recognize me all at once." + +"But he might see us together when we start from here; and he might +trace us. He would know at once that he could get money from me, and for +money he would do anything." + +She leaned back, and was silent a minute. + +"We must keep closely shut up for a little while, till I can decide what +to do. I wish Maurice would come." + +Lucia looked up eagerly. It was her own thought, though she had not +dared to say it. Maurice could always find the way out of a difficulty. + +"Mamma," she said anxiously, but with some hesitation, "I think this is +need--the kind of need Maurice meant." + +"Need, truly. But I do not know--" + +"He would be glad to help you. And he knows all about us." + +"Yes, I should not have to make long explanations to him." + +Just then there was a knock at the door. Both started violently. Absurd +as it was, they both expected to see Bailey himself enter. Instead, they +saw Madame Everaert, her round face flushed with walking and her hands +full of flowers. + +"For mademoiselle," she said, laying them down on the table, and nodding +and smiling good humouredly. "I have been to Rosendahl to see my +goddaughter there, and she has a magnificent garden, so I brought a few +flowers for mademoiselle." + +Lucia thanked her, and admired the flowers, and she went away without +suspecting the fright her visit had caused. + +"Get your desk, Lucia," Mrs. Costello said, gasping for breath, and +almost exhausted by the terrible beating of her heart, "and write a note +for me." + +The desk was brought and opened. + +"Is it to Maurice?" Lucia asked. + +"Yes. Say that we are in great need of a friend." + +Lucia began. She found it much more difficult than she had done the +other night, when she wrote those few impetuous lines which had been +afterwards torn up. + + + + "Dear Maurice," she said, "mamma tells me to write to you, and say + that something has happened which has frightened her very much, and + that we are in great need of a friend. Will you keep your promise, + and come to us?" + + + +This was what she showed to her mother. When Mrs. Costello had approved +of it, she wrote a few words more. + + + + "I want to ask you to forgive me. I don't deserve it, but I am so + unhappy. + + "Yours affectionately, + "LUCIA." + + + +She hesitated a little how to sign herself, but finally wrote just what +she had been accustomed to put to all her little notes written to +Maurice during his absences from Cacouna in the old days. + +When the letter had been sealed and sent off by Madame Everaert's +servant to the post-office, they began to feel that all they could do +for the present was done. Mrs. Costello lay still on her sofa, without +having strength or energy to talk, and Lucia took her never-finished +crochet, and sat in her old place by the window. + +But very soon it grew too dark to work. The Place was lighted, and alive +with people passing to and fro. The windows of the guard house opposite +were brilliant, and from those of a café on the same side as Madame +Everaert's there shone out, half across the square, a broad line of +light. In this way, at two places, the figures of those who moved about +the pavement on each side of the Place, were very plainly visible; even +the faces of some could be distinguished. Lucia watched these people +to-night with a new interest. Every time the strong glare fell upon a +shabby slouching figure, or on a poorly dressed man who wanted the air +of being a Frenchman, she thought, "Is that Bailey?" When the lamp came +in, Mrs. Costello had fallen asleep, so Lucia turned it down low, and +still sat at the window. The light on the tower shone out clear and +bright--above it the stars looked pale, but the sky was perfectly +serene. Maurice, if he came soon, had every prospect of a fair passage. +"And he will come," she thought to herself, "even if he is really too +much vexed with me to forgive me, he will come for mamma's sake." + +All next day they both kept indoors. Lucia tried to persuade her mother +to drive out into the country, but even for this Mrs. Costello had not +courage. At the same time she seemed to be losing all sense of security +in the house. She fancied she had not sufficiently impressed on Father +Paul the importance of not betraying her in any way to Bailey. She +wished to write and remind him of this, but she dared not lest her note +should fall into wrong hands. Then she thought of asking him to visit +her, but hesitated also about that till it was too late. In short, was +in a perfectly unreasonable and incapable condition--fear had taken such +hold of her in her weak state of health that Lucia began to think it +would end in nervous fever. With her the dread of Bailey began to be +quite lost in apprehension for her mother, and her own affairs had to +be put altogether on one side to make room for these new anxieties. + +In the afternoon of that day Mrs. Costello suddenly roused herself from +a fit of thought. + +"We must go somewhere," she said. "That is certain, whatever else is. As +soon as Maurice comes we ought to be prepared to start. Do go, Lucia, +and see if there is any packing you can do--without attracting +attention, you know." + +"But, mamma," Lucia objected, "Maurice cannot be here to-day, nor even, +I believe, to-morrow, at the very soonest, and I will soon do what there +is to do." + +"There is a great deal. And I can't help you, my poor child. And there +ought not to be a moment's unnecessary delay." + +Lucia had to yield. She began to pack as if all their arrangements were +made, though they had no idea either when, or to what end, their +wanderings would recommence, nor were able to give a hint to those about +them of their intended departure. + +Another restless night passed, and another day began. There was the +faintest possibility, they calculated, that Maurice, if he started as +soon as he received Lucia's note, might reach them late at night. + +It was but the shadow of a chance, for Hunsdon, as they knew, lay at +some distance from either post-office or railway station, and the letter +might not reach him till this very morning. Yet, since he _might_ come, +they must do all they could to be ready. The day was very hot. All the +windows were open, and the shutters closed; a drowsy heat and stillness +filled the rooms. Mrs. Costello walked about perpetually. She had tried +to help Lucia, but had been obliged to leave off and content herself +with gathering up, here and there, the things that were in daily use, +and bringing them to Lucia to put away. They said very little to each +other. Mrs. Costello could think of nothing but Bailey, and she did not +dare to talk about him from some fanciful fear of being overheard. Lucia +thought of her mother's health and of Maurice, and Mrs. Costello had no +attention to spare for either. + +Suddenly, sounding very loud in the stillness, there came the roll of a +carriage over the rough stones of the Place. It stopped; there was a +moment's pause, and then a hasty ring at the door-bell. Both mother and +daughter paused and listened. There was a quick movement downstairs--a +foot which was swifter and lighter than Madame Everaert's on the +staircase--and Maurice at the sitting-room door. + +Mrs. Costello went forward from the doorway where she had been arrested +by the sound of his coming; Lucia, kneeling before a trunk in the +adjoining room, saw him standing there, and sprang to her feet; he came +in glad, eager, impatient to know what they wanted of him; and before +any of them had time to think about it, this meeting, so much desired +and dreaded, was over. + +"But how could you come so soon?" Mrs. Costello asked. "We did not +expect you till to-morrow." + +"By the greatest chance. I had been in town for two days. Our station +and post-office are at the same place. When they met me at the station, +they brought me letters which had just arrived, and yours was among +them. So I was able to catch the next train back to London, instead of +going home." + +"And which way did you come? The boat is not in yet?" + +"By Calais. It was quicker. Now tell me what has happened." + +Mrs. Costello looked carefully to see that the door was shut. Then she +told Maurice who and what she feared, and how she could not even leave +Bourg-Cailloux without help. + +"Yet, I think I ought to leave," she said. + +"Of course you ought," Maurice answered. "You must go to England." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +"You must go to England," Maurice said decidedly. "It is an easy +journey, and you would be quite safe there." + +"But I ought not to go to England," Mrs. Costello answered rather +uncertainly. "And Bailey might follow us there." + +"I doubt that. By what you say, too, if he were in England, we might +perhaps set the police to watch him, which would prevent his annoying +you. However, the thing to do is to carry you off before he has any idea +you are in Europe at all." + +Lucia stayed long enough to see that the mere presence of Maurice +inspired her mother with fresh courage; then she went back to her +packing, leaving the door ajar that she might hear their voices. She +went on with her work in a strange tumult and confusion. Not a word +beyond the first greetings had passed between Maurice and herself, but +she could not help feeling as if their positions were somehow +changed--and not for the worse. + +There had been no words; but just for one second Maurice had held her +hand and looked at her very earnestly; whereupon she had felt her cheeks +grow very hot, and her eyes go down to the ground as if she were making +some confession. + +After that he released her, and she went about her occupations. She +began to wonder now whether she would have to tell him how sorry she +was, or whether enough had been said; and to incline to the last +opinion. + +Meanwhile she went on busily. In about half an hour she heard Maurice go +out, and then Mrs. Costello came to her. + +"He is gone to make inquiries," she said; "you know there is a boat +to-night, but then we may not be able to get berths." + +"To-night, mamma, for England?" + +Mrs. Costello looked a little displeased at Lucia's surprise, "To be +sure," she said; "why, my dear child, you yourself thought England +would be the best place." + +"I did _think_ so certainly, but I did not know I had said it." + +"Well, can we be ready?" + +"I can finish packing in an hour, but there is Madame Everaert to +arrange with." + +"We must wait till Maurice comes back before doing that." + +"I suppose we must; mamma, will you please go and lie down? Otherwise +you will not be able to go." + +Mrs. Costello smiled. She felt able for any exertion to escape from her +enemy under Maurice's guidance. However, she did as her daughter wished, +and lay quietly waiting for his coming back. + +Lucia heard his steps first, notwithstanding. She had her last trunk +just ready for locking, and went into the sitting-room to hear the +decision, with her hair a little disordered and a bright flush of +excitement and fatigue on her cheeks. + +"Are we to go?" she said quickly. + +"I think you should if you can," he answered her. "But can you be +ready?" + +"By what time?" + +"Nine o'clock." + +"Everything is packed. Half an hour is all we really need now." + +"Three hours to spare then. Everything is in our favour. It is not a bad +boat, and there is room for us on board." + +"Have you taken berths then?" Mrs. Costello asked. + +"Yes. And I will tell you why I did so without waiting to consult you. I +made some inquiries about this fellow Bailey, and found out that it +would most likely not suit him to go to England for some time to come." + +"You inquired about him? Good heavens, what a risk!" + +"You forget, dear Mrs. Costello, that I was meant for a lawyer. Don't be +afraid. He has no more thought of you than of the Khan of Tartary." + +"If you only knew the comfort it is having you, Maurice; I was quite +helpless, quite upset by this last terror." + +"But you had been ill, mamma," Lucia interposed. "It was no wonder you +were upset." + +"That is not kind, Lucia," Maurice said, turning to her with a half +smile. "Mrs. Costello wishes to make me believe she depends on me, and +you try to take away the flattering impression." + +"Oh! no; I did not mean that. Mamma knows--" but there she got into +confusion and stopped. + +"Well," Mrs. Costello said, "we had better send for Madame Everaert, and +tell her we are going." + +Madame came. She was desolated, but had nothing to say against the +departure of her lodgers, and, as Lucia had told Maurice, half an hour +was enough for the settling of their last affairs at Bourg-Cailloux. + +Mrs. Costello did not wish to go on board the boat till near the hour +named for sailing; it was well, too, that she should have as much rest +as possible before her journey. She kept on her sofa, therefore, where +so large a portion of her time lately had been spent; and Lucia, from +habit, took her seat by the window. + +Then in the quiet twilight arose the question, "Where are we to go when +we reach England?" + +"Where?" Maurice said, "why, to Hunsdon, of course. My father will be so +pleased--and Louisa will come rushing over in ecstasies the moment she +hears." + +"That might be all very well," Mrs. Costello said, "if we were only +coming to England as visitors, but since we are not, I shall wish to +find a place were we can settle as quickly as possible. I should +certainly like it to be within reach of Hunsdon, if we can manage it." + +"Come to Hunsdon first, at any rate, and look out." + +"I think not, Maurice. We might stay in London for a week or two." + +"Well, if you _prefer_ it. But, at all events, I know perfectly well +that one week of London will be as much as either of you can bear. When +you have had that, I shall try again to persuade you." + +While they talked, Lucia sat looking out. For the last time she saw the +Place grow dusky, and then flame out with gas--for the last time she +watched the lighting of the beacon, and wondered how far on their way +they would be able to see it still. + +Eight o'clock struck; then a quarter past, and it was time to go. + +The boat lay in the dock. On board, a faint light gleamed out from the +cabin-door, but everything on shore was dark. Passengers were arriving +each moment, and their luggage stood piled up ready to be embarked. +Sailors were talking or shouting to each other in English and French; +the cargo of fruit and vegetables was still being stowed away, and +people were running against other people in the darkness, and trying +vainly to discover their own trunks on the deck, or their own berths in +the cabin. Into the midst of all this confusion Maurice brought his +charges; but as he had been on board in the afternoon, he knew where to +take them, and they found their own quarters without difficulty. While +he saw to their packages, they made their arrangements for the night. + +"I shall lie down at once," Mrs. Costello said. "It is not uncomfortable +here, and I think it is always best." + +"But it is so early, and on deck the air is so pleasant. Should you mind +my leaving you for a little while?" + +"Not at all. There is no reason why you should stay down here if you +dislike it. Maurice will take care of you." + +But Lucia had no intention of waiting for Maurice. She saw her mother +comfortably settled, and then stole up alone to the deck. The boat had +not yet started; it seemed to lie in the very shadow of the quaint old +town, and Lucia could trace the outline of the buildings against the +starry sky. + +She felt a little soft sensation of regret at saying good-bye to this +last corner of France. 'And yet,' she thought, 'I have been very unhappy +here. I wonder if England will be happier?' + +She stood leaning against the bulwarks, looking now at the town, now at +the dark glimmer of the water below, and, to tell the truth, beginning +to wonder where Maurice was. While she wondered, he came up to her and +spoke. + +"Lucia, it _is_ you then? I thought you would not be able to stay +below." + +"No. It is so hot. Here the night is lovely." + +"The deck is tolerably clear now. Come and walk up and down a +little--unless you are tired?" + +"I am tired, but to walk will rest me." + +As she turned he took her hand and put it through his arm. For a minute +they were silent. + +"Two days ago, Lucia," Maurice said "I thought this was an +impossibility." + +"What!" + +"Our being together--as we are now." + +"Did you? But you had promised to come if ever we were in trouble." + +"Yes. And I meant to keep my word. But I fancied you would never send +for me." + +"You see," Lucia said, trying to speak lightly, "that we had no other +friend to send for." + +"Is that so? Was that the only reason?" + +"Maurice!" + +"Tell me something, Lucia. Did you mean the last sentence of your note?" + +"What was it?" + +"You said you were unhappy." + +"Oh! yes, I was. _So_ unhappy--I was thinking of it just now." + +"And at present? Are you unhappy still?" + +"You know I am not." + +"I have been miserable, too, lately. Horribly miserable. I was ready to +do I can't tell you what absurdities. Until your note came." + +He stopped a moment, but she had nothing to say. + +"It is a great comfort to have got so far," he went on, "but I suppose +one is never satisfied. Now that I am not quite miserable, I should like +to be quite happy." + +Lucia could not help laughing, though she did so a little nervously. + +"Don't be unreasonable," she said. + +"But I am. I must needs put it to the touch again. Lucia, you know what +I want to say; can't you forget the past, and come home to Hunsdon and +be my wife?" + +They stood still side by side, in the starry darkness and neither of +them knew very well for a few minutes what they said. Only Maurice +understood that the object of his life was gained; and Lucia felt that +from henceforth, for ever, she would never be perverse, or passionate, +or wilful again, for Maurice had forgiven her, and loved her still. + +They never noticed that the boat was delayed beyond its time, and that +other passengers chafed at the delay. They stayed on deck in the +starlight, and said little to each other, but they both felt that a new +life had begun--a life which seemed to be grafted on the old one before +their troubles, and to have nothing to do with this last year. When +Maurice was about to say good-night at the cabin door, he made the first +allusion to what had brought them together. + +"I shall pension Bailey," he said. "His last good deed blots out all his +misdoings." + +"What good deed?" + +"Frightening you." + +"He did not frighten me." + +"Frightening Mrs. Costello then. It comes to the same thing in the end. +But why did not you send for your cousin, Mr. Wynter?" + +"Ask mamma." + +"I have something more interesting to ask her." + +Mrs. Costello knew tolerably well, when Lucia kissed her that night, +what had happened. She said nothing audibly, but in her heart there was +a _Nunc Dimittis_ sung thankfully; and in spite of the sea, she fell +asleep over it. The night was as calm as it could be, and Maurice, who +had no inclination for sleep or for the presence of the crowd below, +spent most of it on deck. Towards morning he went down; but at seven +o'clock, when Lucia peeped out, he was up again and waiting for her. She +only gave him a little nod and smile, however, and then retreated, but +presently came back with her mother. + +They got chairs and sat watching the coast, which was quickly coming +nearer, and the vessels which they passed lying out in the still +waters. + +"We shall be in in two hours," Maurice said, "though we were late +starting. The captain says he has not had such a good run this year." + +"For which I am very thankful," Mrs. Costello answered. + +"What a mercy it is to have got away so easily; it was well we sent to +you, Maurice." + +"Very well; the best thing that ever was done. Lucia and I agreed as to +that last night." + +Lucia pouted the very least in the world, and her mother smiled. + +"It seems to me you took a long while to settle the question. I thought +she was never coming." + +"Why, mamma? I came as soon as the boat started." + +"We have settled our differences," Maurice said, leaning down to speak +quietly to Mrs. Costello. "Do you give us leave to make our own +arrangements for the future?" + +"I think you are pretty sure of my leave." + +"Then we all go straight on to Hunsdon together?" + +"Are those your arrangements?" + +"Not mine, certainly," Lucia interposed. "I thought we were to stay in +London." + +"But why?" + +"Don't you see," Mrs. Costello asked, "that any little compact you two +children may have made has nothing to do with the necessity of my +finding a house for myself and my daughter--as long as she is only my +daughter." + +Maurice had to give way a second time. + +"Very well then," he said. "At all events you can't forbid me to stay in +London, too." + +"But I certainly shall. You may stay and see us settled, but after that +you are to go home and attend to your own affairs." + +They reached London by noon, and before night they found, and took +possession of, a lodging which Mrs. Costello said to herself would suit +them very well until Lucia should be married; after which, of course, +she would want to settle near Hunsdon. Maurice spent the evening with +them, but was only allowed to do so on condition of leaving London for +home next morning. + +As soon as they were at all settled, Mrs. Costello wrote to her cousin. +She told him that she had had urgent reason for quitting France +suddenly; that other causes had weighed with her in deciding to return +to England, and that she was anxious to see and consult with him. She +begged him, therefore, to come up to town and to bring one at least of +his daughters with him on a visit to Lucia. + +When the letter had been sent off, she said to her daughter, "Suppose +that we are penniless in consequence of our flight? What is to done +then?" + +"Surely that cannot be?" + +"I do not know until I see my cousin. I think it must depend legally on +the terms of your grandfather's will; but, in fact, I suppose George had +the decision in his hands." + +After this they both looked anxiously for Mr. Wynter's answer. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +But before Mr. Wynter had time to reply.--indeed, by the very first +possible post--came a letter to Lucia, the sight of which made her very +rosy. She had had plenty of letters from Maurice long ago, and never +blushed over them as she did over this; but then this was so different. +She did not even like to read it in her mother's presence. She just +glanced at it there, and carried it off to devour in comfort alone. It +was quite short, after all, for he had scarcely had ten minutes before +the post hour; but it said--beside several things which were of no +interest except to the reader--that he had found Lady Dighton at Hunsdon +on his arrival, and had told her and his father together of his +engagement; that his cousin was going to write and invite Mrs. Costello +to Dighton; and that Mr. Leigh said, if they did not come down +immediately, he should be obliged to start for London himself to tell +them how pleased he was. + +"At any rate," Maurice concluded, "I shall be in town again on Saturday. +I find I have business to see my lawyer about." + +All this--as well as the rest of the note--was very agreeable. Lucia +went and sat down on a footstool at her mother's feet to tell her the +news. Mrs. Costello laid her hand on her child's head and sighed softly. + +"You will have to give up this fashion of yours, darling," she said, +"you must learn to be a woman now." + +Lucia laughed. + +"I don't believe I ever shall," she answered. "At least, not with you or +with Maurice." + +"Would you like to go to Dighton?" + +She considered for a minute. + +"Yes, mamma, I think I should. You know how things are in those great +houses; but I have never seen anything but Canada, and even there, just +the country. I should not like, by-and-by, for people to laugh at +Maurice, because I was only an ignorant country girl." + +She spoke very slowly and timidly; but Mrs. Costello began to think she +was right. It would be as well that the future mistress of Hunsdon +should have some little introduction to her new world, to prepare her +for "by-and-by." + +Next day came two letters for Mrs. Costello, as well as one for Lucia. +The first was from Lady Dighton full of congratulation, and pressing her +invitation; the other, from Mr. Wynter, announced that he, his wife, and +daughter, would be in London next evening. Next evening was Saturday, +and Maurice also would be there, and would, of course spend Sunday with +them; so that they had a prospect of plenty of guests. + +Maurice, however, arrived early in the day. He had established himself +at a neighbouring hotel, and came in quite with the old air of being at +home. He made a little grimace when he heard of the others who were +expected, but contented himself by making the most of the hours before +their train was due. He found an opportunity also of conveying to Mrs. +Costello his conviction that Hunsdon was very much in want of a lady to +make it comfortable, and that Lucia would be much better there than +shut up in London. The fact that London was in its glory at that moment +made no impression on him. + +"That is just it," he said, when this was suggested to him. "I want to +get it settled and bring her back to enjoy herself here a little before +the season is over." + +It seemed, indeed, pretty evident that the present state of things could +not last long; there was no reason why it should, and nothing but the +bride's preparations to delay the long-desired wedding. + +The Wynters came about nine o'clock. Mrs. Wynter instantly recognized +Maurice. Her daughters had speculated enough about her mysterious +visitor that winter night, to have prevented her forgetting him, if she +would otherwise have done so, and the state of affairs at present was +very soon evident as an explanation of the mystery. When the party +separated for the night, Mrs. Costello and Mr. Wynter remained in the +drawing-room for that consultation for which he had come, while his wife +and daughter stayed together upstairs to talk over their new relations +before going to bed. + +Mrs. Costello, as briefly as possible, made her cousin comprehend that +she had been compelled to leave France, and had fled to England because +it was the most accessible refuge. + +"I never meant to have come back," she said. "I have never allowed +myself to think of it, because I could not disobey my father again." + +"I am glad you have come, to tell you the truth;" he answered. "I do not +at all imagine that, in your present circumstances, my uncle would have +wished to keep you away." + +Mrs. Costello looked relieved. + +"I am almost inclined to go further," he continued, "and to say that he +must have anticipated your return." + +"Why?" + +"Because in his will he gives you your income unconditionally, and only +expresses a wish that you should not come back." + +"Is it so really?" + +"Certainly. But you have a copy of the will." + +"It has not been unpacked since we came from Canada. I had made it so +much my duty to obey the request that I had forgotten it had no +condition attached to it." + +"It has none." + +"I am very glad; and you think he would have changed his mind now?" + +"I think so. Especially as it seems to me Lucia is likely to settle in +England." + +"Yes, indeed. That was the second thing I wanted to speak to you about." + +"They are engaged, I suppose?" + +"Yes; it has been the wish of my heart for years. Maurice is like a son +to me." + +They discussed the matter in its more commonplace aspect. The wealth and +position of the bridegroom elect were points as to which Mr. Wynter felt +it his business to inquire, and when he found these so satisfactory, he +congratulated his cousin with great cordiality, and plainly expressed +his opinion that delays in such a case were useless and objectionable. +He liked Lucia, and admired her, and thought, too, that there would be +no better way of blotting out the remembrance of the mother's +unfortunate marriage than by a prosperous one on the part of the +daughter. + +Meantime Mrs. Wynter sat in an easy-chair by her dressing-table, and her +daughter was curled up on the floor near her. + +"Well, mamma," Miss Wynter said, "you see I was right. I knew perfectly +well that there must be some romance at the bottom of it all." + +"You were very wise, my dear." + +"And, mamma, if I had seen Lucia, I should have been still more sure. +Why, she is perfectly lovely! I hope she will let me be her bridesmaid." + +"Tiny, you know I don't approve of your talking in that way." + +"What way, mamma? Of course, they are going to be married. Anybody can +see that." + +"If they are, no doubt we shall hear in good time." + +"And I am sure, if either of us were to marry half as well, the whole +house would be in a flutter. I mean to be very good friends with Lucia, +and then, perhaps, she will invite me to go and see her. And I _must_ be +her bridesmaid, because I am her nearest relation; and she can't have +any friends in England, and I shall make her let me have a white dress +with blue ribbons." + +Mrs. Wynter still reproved, but she smiled, too; and Tiny being a +spoiled child, needed no greater encouragement. She stopped in her +mother's room until she heard Mr. Wynter coming, when she fled, +dishevelled, to her own, and dropped asleep, to dream of following Lucia +up the aisle of an impossible church, dressed in white with ribbons of +_bleu de ciel_. + +Lucia perhaps had said to herself also that she meant to be good friends +with Tiny. At all events, the two girls did get on excellently together; +before the week which the Wynters spent in London was at an end, they +had discussed as much of Lucia's love story as she was disposed to tell, +and arranged that Tiny and her sister should really officiate on that +occasion to which everybody's thoughts were now beginning to be +directed. + +Another week found the Costellos at Dighton. They meant to stay a +fortnight or three weeks, and then to return to town until the marriage; +but of this no one of their Norfolk friends would hear a word. Lady +Dighton, Maurice, and Mr. Leigh had made up their minds that Lucia +should not leave the county until she did so a bride; and they carried +their point. The wedding-day was fixed; and Lucia found herself left, at +last, almost without a voice in the decision of her own destiny. + +And yet, these last weeks of her girlhood were almost too happy. She +went over several times with her mother and Lady Dighton to Hunsdon, +and grew familiar with her future home; she saw the charming rooms that +were being prepared for herself, and could sit down in the midst of all +this new wealth and luxury, and talk with Maurice about the old times +when they had no splendour, but little less happiness than now; and she +had delicious hours of castle-building, sometimes alone, sometimes with +her betrothed, which were pleasanter than any actual realization of +their dreams could be. + +Of course, they had endless talks, in which they said the same things +over and over again, or said nothing at all; but they knew each other so +thoroughly now, and each was so completely acquainted with all the +other's past that there was truly nothing for them to tell or to hear, +except the one old story which is always new. + +One day, however, Maurice came over to Dighton in a great hurry, with a +letter for Lucia to read. He took her out into the garden, and when they +were quite alone he took it out and showed it to her. + +"What is it?" she said. "It looks like a French letter." + +"It is French. Do you remember your friend, Father Paul?" + +"Of course. Oh, Maurice! it cannot be about Bailey?" + +"Indeed, it is. But don't look frightened. I wrote to Father Paul, and +this is his answer." + +"What made you write?" + +"Did not I say I would pension Bailey? _I_ don't forget my promises if +other people do." + +"Surely, you were only joking?" + +"Very far from it, I assure you. Your good friend undertook to manage +it, and he writes to me that my letter only arrived in time; that Bailey +was ill, and quite dependent on charity, and that he is willing to +administer the money I send in small doses suitable to the patient's +condition." + +"But, Maurice, it is perfect nonsense. Why should you give money to that +wretched man? _We_ might, indeed, do something for him." + +"Who are 'we?' You had better be careful at present how you use your +personal pronouns." + +"I meant mamma and I might, of course." + +"I do not see the 'of course' at all. Mamma has nothing whatever to do +with it--nor even you. This is simply a mark of gratitude to Mr. Bailey +for a service he did me lately." + +Lucia let her hand rest a little less lightly on Maurice's arm. + +"And me too," she said softly. + +"Use your 'we' in its right sense, then, and _we_ will reward him. But +not unless you are sure that you do not repent having been frightened." + +"Ah! you don't know how glad I was when mamma made me write that note. +It did better than the one I tore up." + +"What was that? Did you tear one up?" + +"Yes. After all, I don't believe you were as miserable as I was; for I +wrote once; I did actually write and ask you to come--only I tore up the +note--and you were consoling yourself with Miss Landor." + +"Miss Landor! By the way, has she been asked to come over, for the +tenth?" + +"I don't know. You ought to ask her yourself. Why did not you propose to +her, Maurice? Or perhaps you did?" + +"If I did not, you may thank Bailey. Yes, indeed, Lucia, you contrived +so well to persuade me you never would care for me that I began to +imagine it was best I should marry her; that is, supposing she would +have me." + +"And all the while I was doing nothing but think of you, and of how +wicked and ungrateful and all sorts of bad things I had been in Paris." + +"And I--" etc. etc. + +The rest of their conversation that morning was much like it was on +other days, and certainly not worth repeating. Lucia, however, took the +first opportunity of speaking to Lady Dighton about Miss Landor, and +seeing that her invitation for the wedding was not neglected. + +The tenth of July, Lucia's birthday and her marriage-day, came quickly +to end these pleasant weeks of courtship. It was glorious weather--never +bride in our English climate had more sunshine on her--and the whole +county rung with the report of her wonderful beauty, and of the romantic +story of these two young people, who had suddenly appeared from the +unknown regions of Canada, and taken such a prominent and brilliant +place in the neighbourhood. + +But they troubled themselves little just then, either with their own +marvellous fortunes or with the gossip of their neighbours. Out of the +quaint old church where generations of Dightons had been married and +buried, they came together, man and wife; and went away into "that new +world which is the old," to fulfil, as they best might, the dream to +which one of them had been so faithful. They went away in a great +clamour of bells and voices, and left Mrs. Costello alone, to comfort +herself with the thought that the changes and troubles of the past had +but served to redeem its errors, and to bring her, at last, the fuller +and more perfect realization of her heart's desire. + + + THE END. + + PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO., + LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Canadian Heroine, by Mrs. Harry Coghill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE *** + +***** This file should be named 18132-8.txt or 18132-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/1/3/18132/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Canadian Heroine + A Novel, Volume 3 (of 3) + +Author: Mrs. Harry Coghill + +Release Date: April 8, 2006 [EBook #18132] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h1>A CANADIAN HEROINE.</h1> + +<h2>A Novel.</h2> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h3>THE AUTHOR OF "LEAVES FROM THE BACKWOODS."</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Poem, Inferno. Canto II."> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">"Questa chiese Lucia in suo dimando,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">E disse: Or ha bisogno il tuo fedele</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Di te, e io a te lo raccomando."—<i>Inferno. Canto II.</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="1"> </td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Poem, J. Bedard."> +<tr><td align='left'>"Qu'elles sont belles, nos campagnes;</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>En Canada qu'on vit content!</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Salut ô sublimes montagnes,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bords du superbe St. Laurent!</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Habitant de cette contrée</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Que nature veut embellir,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tu peux marcher tête levée,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ton pays doit t'enorgueillir."—<i>J. Bedard.</i></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<h3>IN THREE VOLUMES.</h3> +<h3>VOL. III.</h3> + + +<p class='center'>LONDON:<br /> +TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET. STRAND.<br /> +1873.</p> + +<p class='center'>[<i>All rights Reserved.</i>]</p> + +<p class='center'>PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO.,<br /> +LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><br /><br /></p> +<h2>A CANADIAN HEROINE.</h2> +<p><br /><br /></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p>Mr. Leigh was in a very depressed and anxious mood. His late +conversations with Mrs. Costello had disturbed him and broken up the +current of his thoughts, and even to some extent of his usual +occupations, without producing any result beneficial to either of them. +She had told him a strange and almost incredible story of her life; and +then, just when he was full of sympathy and eagerness to be of use to +her, everything seemed suddenly to have changed, and the events that +followed had been wholly, as it were, out of his reach. He thought over +the matter with a little sensation, which, if he had been less simple +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>and generous a man, might have been offence. Even as it was, he felt +uncomfortably divided between his real interest in his old friends, and +a temptation to pretend that he was not interested at all. He +remembered, too, with a serio-comical kind of remorse, the manner in +which he had spoken to Mrs. Costello about Maurice. He was obliged to +confess to himself that Maurice had never said a word to him which could +be taken as expressing any other than a brotherly feeling of regard for +Lucia; he had certainly <i>fancied</i> that there was another kind of +affection in his thoughts; but it was no part of the old soldier's code +of honour to sanction the betrayal of a secret discovered by chance, and +he felt guilty in remembering how far the warmth of his friendship had +carried him. He considered, by way of tormenting himself yet further, +that it was perfectly possible for a young man, being daily in the +company of a beautiful and charming girl, to fancy himself in love with +her, and yet, on passing into a different world and seeing other +charming girls, to discover that he had been mistaken. It is true that +if any other person had suggested that Maurice might have done this, Mr. +Leigh would have been utterly offended and indignant; nevertheless, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>having proposed the idea to himself, he tried to look upon it as quite +natural and justifiable. After all, this second theory of inconstancy +rested upon the first theory of supposed love, and that upon guesses and +surmises, so that the whole edifice was just as shadowy and +unsubstantial as it could well be. But then it is curious to see how +much real torment people manage to extract from visionary troubles.</p> + +<p>While his neighbours were still at Moose Island Mr. Leigh received two +letters from Maurice. The first not only did not contain the usual note +enclosed for Mrs. Costello, but there was not the slightest message to, +or mention of, either her or Lucia. Mr. Leigh examined the letter, +peeped into the envelope, shook the sheets apart (for Maurice's writing +filled much space with few words), but found nothing. The real +explanation of this was simple enough. Maurice had written his note to +Mrs. Costello, and then, just as he was going to put it in the envelope, +was called to his grandfather. In getting up from the table he gave the +note a push, which sent it down into a wastepaper basket. There it lay +unnoticed, and when he came back, just in time to send off his letters, +he fancied, not seeing it, that he had put it into the envelope, which +accordingly he closed and sent to the post<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> without it. But of course +Mr. Leigh knew nothing about this.</p> + +<p>The second letter was equally without enclosure or message, though from +a very different cause. It was scarcely a dozen lines in length, and +only said that Mr. Beresford was dying. Maurice had just received Mrs. +Costello's farewell note; he was feeling angry and grieved, and could +think of no better expedient than to keep silence for the moment, even +if he had had time to renew his expostulations. He had not fully +comprehended the secret Mrs. Costello entrusted to him, but in the +preoccupations of the moment, he put off all concerns but those of the +dying man until he should have more leisure to attend to them. Thus, by +a double chance, Mr. Leigh was allowed to persuade himself that Maurice +had either never had any absorbing interest in the Costellos, or that +his interest in them was being gradually supplanted by others. In this +opinion, and in a curiously uncomfortable and contradictory humour, his +friends found him when they came back from the island.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello, on her part, had been entirely unable to keep Maurice out +of her thoughts. As Christian's death, and all the agitation consequent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +upon it, settled back into the past, she had plenty of leisure and +plenty of temptation to revert to her old hopes and schemes. Half +consciously she had allowed herself to build up a charming fabric of +possibilities. <i>Possibly</i> Maurice might write and say, "It is Lucia I +love, Lucia I want to marry. It matters nothing to me what her father is +or was." (Quixotic and not-to-be-counted-upon piece of generosity!) +<i>Possibly</i> she herself might then be justified in answering, "The +accusation brought against her father has been proved false—my child is +stainless—and you have proved your right to her;" and it was +impossible, she believed, that Lucia, hearing all the truth, should not +be touched as they would have her.</p> + +<p>These imaginations, built upon such ardent and long-indulged wishes, +acquired a considerable degree of strength during her visit to Mr. +Strafford; and although a little surprised at not receiving, during her +stay there, the usual weekly note from Maurice which she had calculated +would cross her last important letter on the way, she came home eager to +see Mr. Leigh, and to hear from him the last news from England.</p> + +<p>But when she had paid her visit to her old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> neighbour, she came back +puzzled, disappointed, and slightly indignant. There was an air of +constraint about Mr. Leigh, especially when he spoke of Maurice, which +was so entirely new as to appear a great deal more significant than it +really was; and this, added to the fact that two letters had been +received, one written before, and the other after the arrival of hers, +neither of which contained so much as a message for her or Lucia, +suddenly suggested to Mrs. Costello that she was a very foolish woman +who was still wasting her wishes and thoughts on plans, the time for +which had gone by, instead of following steadily, and without +hesitation, what her reason told her was the best and most sensible +course. She so far convinced herself that it was time to give up +thinking of Lucia's marriage to Maurice, as to be really in earnest both +in completing her preparations for leaving Canada, and in rejoicing at +the receipt of a letter from her cousin expressing his perfect approval +of her decision to return to Europe.</p> + +<p>This letter even Lucia could not help acknowledge to be thoroughly kind +and kinsmanlike. Mr. Wynter proposed to meet them at Havre, and, if +possible, accompany them to Paris.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you are travelling alone," he said, "I may be of service to you; and +since you have decided on going to France, I should like to see you +comfortably settled there. By that means, too, we shall have plenty of +time to talk over whatever arrangements you wish made with regard to +your daughter. However, I have great hopes that when you find yourself +away from the places where you have suffered so much, and near your own +people, you will grow quite strong again."</p> + +<p>There were messages from his wife and daughters, in conclusion, which +seemed to promise that they also would be ready to welcome their unknown +relatives.</p> + +<p>"Blood is thicker than water." Mrs. Costello began to feel that the one +secure asylum for Lucia, in her probable orphanhood, would be in the old +house by the Dee.</p> + +<p>The next time she saw Mr. Leigh, she told him her plans quite frankly. +She did so with some suspicion of his real feelings, only that in spite +of their long acquaintance she did him the injustice to fancy that he +would, for reasons of his own, be glad that Lucia should be out of +Maurice's way if he returned to Canada. She supposed that he had,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> on +reflection, begun to shrink from the idea of a half-Indian +daughter-in-law, and while she confessed to herself that the feeling +was, according to ordinary custom, reasonable enough, she was at heart +extremely angry that it should be entertained.</p> + +<p>"My beautiful Lucia!" she said to herself indignantly; "as if she were +not ten times more lovely, and a thousand times more worth loving, than +any of those well-born, daintily brought up, pretty dolls, that Lady +Dighton is likely to find for him! I did think better of Maurice. But, +of course, it is all right enough. I had no right to expect him to be +more than mortal."</p> + +<p>And Lucia went on in the most perfect unconsciousness of all the +troubled thoughts circling round her. She spoke honestly of her regret +at leaving Canada when, perhaps, Maurice might so soon be there, though +she kept to herself the hopes which made her going so much less sad than +it would have been otherwise. She was extremely busy, for Mrs. Costello, +now that she thought no more of returning to the Cottage, had decided to +sell it; all their possessions, therefore, had to be divided into three +parts, the furniture to be sold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> with the house, their more personal +belongings to go with them, and various books and knickknacks to be left +as keepsakes with their friends. It was generally known now all over +Cacouna that Mrs. Costello was going "home," in order that Lucia might +be near her relations in case of "anything happening,"—a thing nobody +doubted the probability of, who saw the change made during the last few +months in their grave and quiet neighbour. They were a little vague in +their information about these relations, but that was a matter of +secondary importance; and as the mother and daughter were really very +much liked by their neighbours, they were quite overwhelmed with +invitations and visits.</p> + +<p>So the days passed on quickly; and for the second time, the one fixed +for their journey was close at hand. One more letter had arrived from +Maurice, containing the news of his grandfather's death. It was short, +like the previous one, and almost equally hurried. He said that he was +struggling through the flood of business brought upon him by his +accession to estates so large, and till lately so zealously cared for by +their possessor. As soon as ever he could get away, he meant to start +for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> Canada; and as the time of his doing so depended only on his +success in hurrying on certain affairs which were already in hand, his +father might expect him by any mail except the first after his letter +arrived. There was no message to Mrs. Costello in this note, but, on the +other side of the half sheet which held the conclusion of it, was a +postscript hastily scrawled,</p> + +<p>"Tell Mrs. Costello to remember the last talk we had together, and to +believe that I am obstinate."</p> + +<p>This postscript, however, Mr. Leigh in his excitement and joy at the +prospect of so soon seeing his son, never found out. He read the letter +twice over, and then put it away in his desk, without even remembering +at the moment, to wonder at Maurice's continued silence towards his old +friends. The thought did strike him afterwards, but he was quite certain +that he had read every word of the letter, and was only confirmed in the +ideas he had begun to entertain. He sighed over these ideas, and over +the loss of Lucia, whom he loved with almost fatherly affection; but +still, even she was infinitely less dear to him than Maurice; and if +Maurice really did not care for her, why then,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> sooner than throw the +smallest shadow of blame upon him, <i>he</i> would not seem to care for her +either.</p> + +<p>So Mrs. Costello learned that Maurice was coming, and that he had not +thought it worth while to send even a word to his old friends.</p> + +<p>"He is the only one," she thought, "who has changed towards us, and I +trusted him most of all."</p> + +<p>And she took refuge from her disappointment in anger. Her disappointment +and her anger, however, were both silent; she would not say an ill word +to Lucia of Maurice; and Lucia, engrossed in her work and her +anticipations, did not perhaps remark that there was any change. She +made one attempt to persuade her mother to delay their journey until +after Maurice's arrival, but, being reminded that their passage was +taken, she consoled herself with,</p> + +<p>"Well, it will be easy enough for him to come to see us. I suppose +everybody in England goes to Paris sometimes?"</p> + +<p>And so the end came. They had not neglected Maurice's charge, though +Maurice seemed to have forgotten them. Whatever was possible to do to +provide for Mr. Leigh's comfort during his short<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> solitude they had +done. The last farewells were said; Mr. Strafford, who had insisted on +going with them to New York, had arrived at the Cottage. Mrs. Bellairs +and Bella had spent their last day with their friends and gone away in +tears. All their life at Cacouna, with its happiness and its sorrow, was +over, and early next morning they were to cross the river for the last +time, and begin their journey to England.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p>Maurice had full opportunity for the exercise of patience during the +last weeks of his grandfather's life. It was hard to sit there day after +day watching the half-conscious old man, who lay so still and seemed so +shut out from human feelings or sympathies, and to feel all the while +that any one of those hours of vigil might be the one that stole from +him his heart's desire. Yet there was no alternative. His grandfather, +who had received and adopted him, was suffering and solitary, dependent +wholly on him for what small gratification he could still enjoy. +Gratitude, therefore, and duty kept him here. But <i>there</i>, meanwhile, so +far out of his reach, what might be going on? He lived a perfectly +double<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> life. Lucia was in trouble—some inexplicable shadow of disgrace +was threatening her—something so grave that even her mother, who knew +him so well, thought it an unsurmountable barrier between +them—something which looked the more awful from its vagueness and +mystery. It is true that he was only troubled—not discouraged by the +appearance of this phantom. He was as ready to fight for his Una as ever +was Redcross Knight—but then would his Una wait for him? To be forcibly +held back from the combat must have been much worse to a true champion +than any wounds he could receive in fair fight. So at least it seemed to +Maurice, secretly chafing, and then bitterly reproaching himself for his +impatience; yet the next moment growing as impatient as before.</p> + +<p>To him in this mood came Mrs. Costello's last letter. Now at last the +mystery was cleared up, and its impalpable shape reduced to a positive +and ugly reality. Like his father, Maurice found no small difficulty in +understanding and believing the story told to him. That Mrs. Costello, +calm, gentle, and just touched with a quiet stateliness, as he had +always known her, could ever have been an impulsive, romantic girl, so +swayed by passion or by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> flattery as to have left her father's house and +all the protecting restraints of her English life to follow the fortunes +of an Indian, was an idea so startling that he could not at once accept +it for truth. In Lucia the incongruity struck him less. Her beauty, dark +and magnificent, her fearless nature, her slender erect shape, her free +and graceful movements—all the charms which he had by heart, suited an +Indian origin. He could readily imagine her the daughter of a chief and +a hero. But this was not what he was required to believe. He had read +lately the description of a brutal, half-imbecile savage, who had +committed a peculiarly frightful and revolting murder, and he was told +to recognize in this wretch the father of his darling. But it was just +this which saved him. He would believe that Christian was Mrs. +Costello's husband and Lucia's father, because Mrs. Costello told him so +herself and of her own knowledge—but as for a murder, innocent men were +often accused of that; and when a man is once accused by the popular +voice of a horrible crime, everybody knows how freely appropriate +qualities can be bestowed on him. So the conviction which remained at +the bottom of Maurice's mind, though he never drew it up and looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +steadily at it, was just the truth—that Christian, by some train of +circumstances or other, had been made to bear the weight of another +person's guilt. As to the other question of his giving up Lucia, Maurice +never troubled himself to think about it. He was, it must be confessed, +of a singularly obstinate disposition, and in spite of his legal +training not particularly inclined to listen to reason. Knowing +therefore perfectly well, that he had made up his mind to marry Lucia, +provided she did not deliberately prefer somebody else, he felt it +useless to complicate his already confused ideas any further, by taking +into consideration the expediency of such a connection. There was quite +enough to worry him without that; and by some inconceivable stupidity it +never entered his head that, while he was really so completely incapable +of altering his mind, other people should seriously think he was doing +it.</p> + +<p>Yet as he read Mrs. Costello's letter over a second time, he began to +perceive something in its tone which seemed to say clearly—"Don't +flatter yourself that the matter rests at all with you. I have decided. +I am no longer your ally, but your opponent." At this a new element came +into play—anger.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>He had been rather unreasonable before—now he became utterly so. "A +pretty sort of fellow she must think me, after all," he said to himself. +"I suppose she'd be afraid to trust Lucia to me now. However, if she +thinks I mean to be beaten that way, she'll find that she is mistaken."</p> + +<p>He was walking up and down his room, and working himself up into a +greater ill-humour with every turn he made.</p> + +<p>"If I could only get to Lucia herself," he went on thinking, "I should +see if I could not end the matter at once, one way or the other—that +fellow is clear out of the way now, and I believe I should have a +chance; but as for Mrs. Costello, she seems to think nothing at all of +throwing me over whenever it suits her."</p> + +<p>Poor Maurice! he sat down to write to his father in a miserable +mood—Mr. Beresford had become suddenly and decidedly worse. The doctors +said positively that he was dying, and that a few days at the utmost +would bring the end. Maurice had stolen away while he slept, but his +angry meditation on Mrs. Costello's desertion had taken up so much of +his time, that Mr. Leigh's note was short and hurried. Ill-humour +prevailed also to the point of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> the note being finished without any +message (he had no time to write separately) to the Cottage.</p> + +<p>His packet despatched, he returned to his grandfather's room. Lady +Dighton, now staying in the house, sat and watched by the bedside; and +by-and-by leaving her post, she joined Maurice by the window and began +to talk to him in a low voice. There was no fear of disturbing the +invalid; his sleep continued, deep and lethargic, the near forerunner of +death.</p> + +<p>"Maurice," Lady Dighton said, "I wish you would go out for an hour. You +are not really wanted here, and you look worn out."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I am all right. My grandfather might wake and miss me."</p> + +<p>"Go for a little while. Half an hour's gallop would do you good."</p> + +<p>Maurice laughed impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Why should I want doing good to? It is you, I should think, who ought +to go out."</p> + +<p>"I was out yesterday. Are you still anxious about your father and +Canada?"</p> + +<p>Lady Dighton's straightforward question meant to be answered.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Maurice said rather crossly. "I am anxious and worried."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You can do no good by writing?"</p> + +<p>"I seem to do harm. Don't talk to me about it, Louisa. Nothing but my +being there could have done any good, and now it is most likely too +late."</p> + +<p>She saw plainly enough the fight that was going on—impatience, +eagerness, selfishness of a kind, on one side—duty and compassion on +the other. She had no scruple about seeing just as much of her cousin's +humour as his looks and manner could tell her, and she perceived that at +the moment it was anything but a good or heroic one. She thought it +possible that it would have been a relief to him to have struck, or +shaken, or even kicked something or somebody; and yet she was not at all +tempted to think the worse of him. She did not understand, of course, +the late aggravations of his trouble; but she knew that he loved loyally +and thought his love in danger, and she gave him plenty of sympathy, +whatever that might be worth. She had obtained a considerable amount of +influence over him, and used it, in general, for his good. At present he +was in rather an unmanageable mood, but still she did not mean to let +him escape her.</p> + +<p>"He looks dreadfully worried, poor boy!" she said to herself. "Being +shut up here day after day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> must be bad for him. I shall <i>make</i> Sir John +take him out to-morrow."</p> + +<p>But when to-morrow came, and Sir John paid his daily visit to his wife, +she had other things to think about. He found the servants lingering +about the halls and staircases in silent excitement, and in the sick +room a little group watching, as they stood round the bed, for the old +man's final falling asleep.</p> + +<p>He had been conscious early in the morning, and spoken to both his +grandchildren; but gradually, so very gradually that they could not say +"he changed at such an hour," the heavy rigidity of death closed upon +his already paralysed limbs, and his eyes grew dimmer. It was a very +quiet peaceful closing of a long life, which, except that it had been +sometimes hard and proud, had passed in usefulness and honour. And so, +towards sunset, some one said, "He is gone," and laid a hand gently upon +the stiffening eyelids.</p> + +<p>Sir John took his wife away to her room, and there she leaned her head +against his shoulder and cried, not very bitterly, but with real +affection for her grandfather. Maurice went away also, very grave, and +thinking tenderly of the many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> kind words and deeds which had marked the +months of his stay at Hunsdon. And yet within half an hour, Lady Dighton +was talking to her husband quite calmly about some home affairs which +interested him; and Maurice had begun to calculate how soon he could get +away for that long-deferred six weeks' absence.</p> + +<p>But, of course, although they could not keep their thoughts prisoners, +these mourners, who were genuine mourners after their different degrees, +were constrained to observe the decorous, quiet, and interregnum of all +ordinary occupation, which custom demands after a death. Lady Dighton +returned home next day, hidden in her carriage, and went to shut herself +up in her own house until the funeral. Maurice remained at Hunsdon, +where he was now master, and spent his days in the library writing +letters, or trying to make plans for his future, and it was then that +the letter with his lost message to Mrs. Costello was sent off.</p> + +<p>Yet the space between Mr. Beresford's death and his funeral was to his +heir a tedious and profitless blank. He had till now been kept here by +living powers, gratitude and reverence; death came, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> handed his +custody over to cold but tyrannous propriety. Now he rebelled with all +his heart, and spent hours of each solitary day in pacing backwards and +forwards the whole space of the great dim room which seemed a prison to +him.</p> + +<p>The day before the funeral broke this stillness, two or three gentlemen, +distant relations or old friends of his grandfather, came to Hunsdon, +and towards evening there arrived the family solicitor, Mr. Payne. At +dinner that day Maurice had to take his new position as host. It was, as +suited the circumstances, a grave quiet party, but still there was +something about the manner of the guests, and even in the fact of their +being <i>his</i> guests, which was unconsciously consoling to Maurice as +being a guarantee of his freedom and independence. Next morning the +house was all sombre bustle and preparation. Lady Dighton and her +husband arrived. She, to have one last look at the dead, he to join +Maurice in the office of mourner; and at twelve o'clock, the long +procession wound slowly away through the park, and the great house stood +emptied of the old life and ready for the commencement of the new one.</p> + +<p>The new one began, indeed, after those who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> followed Mr. Beresford +to the grave had come back, and assembled in the great unused +drawing-room to hear the will read. Lady Dighton shivered as she sat by +one of the newly-lighted fires, and bending over to Maurice whispered to +him, "For heaven's sake keep the house warmer than poor grandpapa used +to do."</p> + +<p>"Used" already! The new life had begun.</p> + +<p>There was nothing in the will but what was pretty generally known. Mr. +Beresford had made no secret of his intentions even with regard to +legacies. There was one to his granddaughter, with certain jewels and +articles which had peculiar value for her; some to old friends, some to +servants, and the whole remainder of his possessions real and personal +to Maurice Leigh, on the one condition of his assuming the name and arms +of Beresford.</p> + +<p>It was a very satisfactory will. Maurice, in his impatience, thought its +chief virtue was that it contained nothing which could hinder him from +starting at once for Canada. He told Mr. Payne that he wished to see him +for a short time that evening; and after the other guests had gone to +bed, the two sat down together by the library fire to settle, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> he +fancied, whatever small arrangements must be made before his going.</p> + +<p>He soon found out his mistake. In the first place the solicitor, who had +a powerful and hereditary interest in the affairs of Hunsdon, was +shocked beyond expression at the idea of such a voyage being undertaken +at all. Here, he would have said if he had spoken his thoughts, was a +young man just come into a fine estate, a magnificent estate in fact, +and one of the finest positions in the country, and the very first thing +he thinks of, is to hurry off on a long sea-voyage to a half-barbarous +country, without once stopping to consider that if he were to be +drowned, or killed in a railway accident, or lost in the woods, the +estate might fall into Chancery, or at the best go to a woman. Mr. Payne +mentally trembled at such rashness, and he expressed enough of the +horror he felt, to make Maurice aware that it really was a less simple +matter than he had supposed, and that his new fortunes had their claims +and drawbacks. Mr. Payne followed up his first blow with others. He +immediately began to ask, "If you go, what do you wish done in such a +case?" And the cases were so many that Maurice, in spite of the +knowledge Mr. Beres<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>ford had made him acquire of his affairs, became +really puzzled and harassed. Finally, he saw that a delay of a week +would be inevitable; and the solicitor, having gained the day so far, +relented, and allowed him to hope that after a week's application to +business, he would be in a position to please himself.</p> + +<p>Next day Maurice was left alone at Hunsdon. He wrote his last letter to +his father, and being determined to follow it himself so shortly, he +sent no message to the Costellos. Then he set to work hard and steadily +to clear the way for his departure.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p>One day Maurice rode over to Dighton, and told his cousin he was come to +say good-bye. She was not, of course, surprised to hear that he was +really going, but she could not help expressing her wonder at the +lightness with which he spoke of a journey of so many thousand miles.</p> + +<p>"You talk of going to Canada," she said, "just as I should talk of going +to Paris—as if it were an affair of a few hours."</p> + +<p>"If it were six times as far," he answered, "it would make no difference +to me, except that I should be more impatient to start; and yet most +likely when I get there I shall find my journey useless."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>Somehow or other there had come to be a tolerably clear understanding, +on Lady Dighton's part, of the state of affairs between Maurice and +Lucia—she knew that Maurice was intent upon finding his old playfellow, +and winning her if possible at once. She naturally took the part of her +new favourite; and believed that if Lucia were really what he described +her, she would easily be persuaded to come to Hunsdon as its mistress; +for, of course, she knew of no other barrier between the young people +than that of Maurice's newly acquired importance. She thought Mrs. +Costello had acted in a prudent and dignified manner in wishing to +separate them; but she also thought, in rather a contradictory fashion, +that since Maurice was intent upon the marriage, he ought to have his +own way. So she was quite disposed to encourage him with auguries of +success.</p> + +<p>"They are not likely to be in any hurry to begin a sea-voyage such +weather as this," she said, shivering. "Two ladies, even if they are +Canadians, can't make quite so light of it as you do."</p> + +<p>"I wish you may be right," he answered; "but if I should not find them +there, I shall bring my father to England and then go off in search of +them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> A pretty prospect! They may lead me all over Europe before I find +them."</p> + +<p>Lady Dighton laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"One would suppose that telegraphs and railways were not in existence," +she said, "and that you had to set out, like a knight-errant, with +nothing but a horse and a sword to recover your runaway lady-love."</p> + +<p>Maurice felt slightly offended, but thought better of it, and laughed +too.</p> + +<p>"I shall find them, no fear," he answered; "but when? and where?"</p> + +<p>Next morning he left Hunsdon, and went to London. The moment he was +really moving, his spirits rose, and his temper, which had been +considerably disturbed lately, recovered itself. He scarcely stopped at +all, till he found himself that afternoon at the door of the solicitor's +office, where he had some affairs to attend to.</p> + +<p>He got out of his cab and to the lawyer's door, as if everything +depended on his own personal speed; but just as he went up the steps, +the door opened, and a clerk appeared, showing a gentleman out. Even in +the midst of Maurice's hurry, something familiar in the figure struck +him; he looked again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>—it was Percy. They recognized each other; at the +same moment, by a common impulse, they saluted each other ceremoniously +and passed on their different ways.</p> + +<p>Maurice was expected, and he found Mr. Payne ready to receive him. +Instead, however, of plunging at once into business as, a minute ago, he +was prepared to do, he asked abruptly. "Is Mr. Percy a client of yours?"</p> + +<p>"I can hardly say that," the lawyer answered, surprised by the question.</p> + +<p>"I met him going out," Maurice went on.</p> + +<p>Mr. Payne rubbed his hands.</p> + +<p>"It is no secret," he said; "I may tell you, I suppose. He called about +some points in a marriage settlement."</p> + +<p>Maurice felt his heart give a great leap.</p> + +<p>"Whose?" he asked sharply.</p> + +<p>Mr. Payne again looked surprised.</p> + +<p>"His own, certainly. He is going to marry a daughter of the Earl of +C——, and I had the honour of being employed by the late Countess's +family, from whom her ladyship derives what fortune she has. It is not +very large," he added, dropping from his dignified tone into a more +confidential one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<p>Maurice was silent for a minute. His sensations were curious; divided +between joy that Lucia was certainly free in <i>this</i> quarter, and a +vehement desire to knock down, horsewhip, or otherwise ill-use the +Honourable Edward Percy. Of course, this was a savage impulse, only +worthy of a half-civilized backwoodsman, but happily he kept it down out +of sight, and his companion filled up the pause.</p> + +<p>"The marriage is to take place in a week. The engagement has been +hastily got up, they say, at last; though there was some talk of it a +year ago. He does not seem particularly eager about it now."</p> + +<p>"What is he marrying her for?" was Maurice's next question, put with an +utter disregard of all possibilities of sentiment in the matter—the man +whom Lucia <i>might</i> have loved could not but be indifferent to all other +women.</p> + +<p>"It's not a bad match," Mr. Payne answered, putting his head on one side +as if to consider it critically. "Not much money, but a good +connection—excellent."</p> + +<p>Whereupon they dismissed Percy and his affairs, and went to work.</p> + +<p>Late that night, for no reason but because he could not rest in London, +Maurice started for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> Liverpool. The steamer did not sail till afternoon, +and there would have been plenty of time for him to go down in the +morning; but he chose do otherwise, and consequently found himself in +the streets of Liverpool in the miserable cold darkness of the winter +dawn. Of course, there was nothing to be done then, but go to a hotel +and get some breakfast and such warmth as was to be had. He felt cross +and miserable, and half wished he had stayed in London.</p> + +<p>However the fire burnt up, breakfast came, and the dingy fog began to +roll away a little from before the windows. He went out and walked about +the city. He stared at the public buildings without seeing them; then at +the shop-windows, till he suddenly found himself in front of a +jeweller's, and it occurred to him that he would go in and buy a ring +which would fit a slender finger in case of need. He went in +accordingly, and after looking at some dozens, at last fixed upon one. +He knew the exact size, for he had once taken a ring of Lucia's and +tried to put it on his little finger; it would not go over the middle +joint, but persisted in sticking fast just where the one he bought +stopped. It was a magnificent little affair—almost enough to bribe a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +girl to say "Yes" for the pleasure of wearing it, and Maurice +congratulated himself on the happy inspiration. Being in a tempting +shop, he also bethought himself of carrying out with him some trifling +gifts for his old friends; and by the time he had finished his +selection, he found to his great satisfaction that he might return to +the hotel for his luggage, and go on board ship at once.</p> + +<p>The small steamer which was to carry the passengers out to the 'India' +was already beginning to take on her load when Maurice arrived. The fog, +which had partially cleared away in the town, lay heavy and brown over +the river; the wet dirty deck, the piles of luggage, and groups of +people were all muffled in it, and looked shapeless and miserable in the +gloom. Hurry and apparent confusion were to be seen everywhere, but only +for a short time. The loading was soon completed, and they moved away +into the river.</p> + +<p>Then came another transfer—passengers, trunks, mail-bags all poured on +to the 'India's' deck. Last farewells were said—friends parted, some +for a few weeks, some for ever—the great paddles began to move, and the +voyage was begun.</p> + +<p>As they went down the river, snow began to fall.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> It filled the air and +covered the deck with wet, slowly moving flakes, and the water which +swallowed it up all round the ship looked duller and darker by contrast. +Everybody went below, most people occupied themselves with arranging +their possessions so as to be most comfortable during the voyage; +Maurice, who had few possessions to arrange, took out that morning's +<i>Times</i>, and sat down to read.</p> + +<p>The first two or three days of a voyage are generally nearly a blank to +landsmen. Maurice was no exception to the rule. Even Lucia commanded +only a moderate share of his thoughts till England and Ireland were +fairly out of sight, and the 'India' making her steady course over the +open ocean. Then he began to watch the weather as eagerly as if the +ship's speed and safety had depended on his care. Every day he went, the +moment the notice was put up, to see what progress they had made since +the day before, and, according as their rate of movement was slower or +faster, his day and night were serene or disturbed.</p> + +<p>The number of passengers was small. With what there were he soon formed +the kind of acquaintance which people shut up together for a certain +time generally make with each other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> Everybody was eager for the +conclusion of the voyage, for the weather, though on the whole fine, was +intensely cold, and only the bravest or hardiest could venture to spend +much time on deck. Down below every device for killing time was in +requisition; but in spite of all, the question, "When shall we reach New +York?" was discussed over and over again; and each indication of their +voyage being by a few hours shorter than they had a right to expect, was +hailed with the greatest delight.</p> + +<p>One day when they were really near the end of their voyage, Maurice and +a fellow-passenger, a young man of about his own age, were walking +briskly up and down the deck, trying to keep themselves warm, and +talking of Canada, to which they were both bound. A sailor who had come +for some purpose to the part of the deck where they were, suddenly +called their attention to a curl of smoke far off on the horizon; it was +something homeward bound, he said—he could not tell what, but they +would most likely pass near each other.</p> + +<p>The two young men had been thinking of going down, but the idea of +meeting a ship of any kind was sufficient excitement to keep them on +deck. They continued their walk, stopping every now and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> then to watch +the smoke as it grew more and more distinct. Presently the steamer +itself became visible, and other persons began to assemble and guess +what steamer it could be and how long it would be before they passed +each other. Meanwhile the stranger came nearer and nearer; at last it +could be recognized—the 'Atalanta,' from New York to Havre. Maurice +borrowed a glass from one of the officers, and, going a little apart +from the group on the deck of the 'India,' set himself to examine that +of the 'Atalanta.' A sudden feeling of dismay had seized upon him. He +had no more reason to suppose that Lucia was on board this steamer than +he had to believe that she had sailed a week ago, or that she was still +at Cacouna, and yet a horrible certainty took possession of him that, if +he could only get on board that ship, so tantalizingly close at hand and +yet so utterly inaccessible, he should find her there. He strained his +eyes in the vain effort to distinguish her figure. He almost stamped +with disappointment when he found that the distance was too great, or +his glass not sufficiently powerful, for the forms he could just see, to +be recognizable; and as the two steamers passed on, and the distance +between them grew every moment greater, he hurried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> down to his cabin, +not caring that any one should see how disturbed he was. He threw +himself upon his little sofa, thinking.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if she suspected I was so near her. I wonder whether she +looked for me as I looked for her. Not <i>as</i> I did, of course, for she is +everything to me, and I am only an old friend to her; but yet I think +she would have been sorry to miss me by so little.</p> + +<p>"What an idiot I am! when I have not even the smallest notion whether +she could be on board or not. Very likely I shall find them still at the +dear old Cottage."</p> + +<p>But after his soliloquy he shook his head in a disconsolate manner, and +betook himself to a novel by way of distraction.</p> + +<p>Two more days and they reached New York. They got in early in the +morning, and Maurice, the moment he found himself on shore, hurried to +the railway station. On inquiry there, however, he found that to start +immediately would be, in fact, rather to lose, than to gain time. A +train starting that evening would be his speediest conveyance; and for +that he resolved to wait. He then turned to a telegraph office, +intending to send a message to his father, but on second thoughts +abandoned that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> idea also, considering that Mr. Leigh already expected +him, and that further warning could do no good and might do harm.</p> + +<p>He spent the day, he scarcely knew how. He dined somewhere, and read the +newspapers. He found himself out in the middle of reading with the +greatest appearance of interest an article copied from the <i>Times</i> which +he had read in England weeks before. He looked perpetually at his watch, +and when, at last, he found that his train would be due in half an hour, +he started up in the greatest haste, and drove to the station as if he +had not a moment to spare.</p> + +<p>What a Babel the car seemed when he did get into it! There were numbers +of women and children, not a few babies. It was bitterly cold, and +everybody was anxious to settle themselves at once for the night. +Everybody was talking, sitting down, and getting up again, turning the +seats backwards and forwards to suit their parties, or their fancies, +soothing the shivering, crying children, or discussing the probability +of being impeded by the snow. But when the train was fairly in motion, +when the conductor had made his progress through the cars, when +everybody had got their tickets, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> there was no more to be done, all +subsided gradually into a dull sleepy quiet, broken occasionally by a +child's cry, but still undisturbed enough to let those passengers who +did not care to sleep, think in peace.</p> + +<p>Maurice thought, uselessly, but persistently. He thought of the past, +when he had been quite happy, looking forward to a laborious life with +Lucia to brighten it. He thought of the future which must now have one +of two aspects—either cold, matter-of-fact and solitary, in the great +empty house at Hunsdon without Lucia, or bright and perfect beyond even +his former dreams, in that same great old house with her. He meant to +win her, however, sooner or later, and the real trouble which he feared +at present was nothing worse than delay.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Costello and Lucia found their journey from Cacouna to New York a +very melancholy one. They had gone through so much already, that change +and travel had no power to stimulate their overstrained nerves to any +further excitement; the time of reaction had begun, and a sort of +languid indifference, which was in itself a misery, seemed to have taken +possession of them. Even Lucia's spirits, generally strong both for +enjoyment or for suffering, were completely subdued; she sat by the +window of the car looking out at the wintry landscape all day long, yet +saw nothing, or remembered nothing that she had seen. Once or twice she +thought, "Perhaps in a few days more, Maurice will be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> passing over this +very line; he will be disappointed when he reaches home and finds that +we are gone;" but all her meditations were dreamy and unreal—her mind +acted mechanically. A kind of moral catalepsy benumbed her. Afterwards +when she remembered this time, she wondered at herself; she could not +comprehend the absence of sensation with which she had left the dear +home and all the familiar objects of her whole life, the incapability of +feeling either keen sorrow at the parting, or hope in the unknown +future. The days they spent in hurrying hour by hour further away from +Canada, always remained in her recollection little more than a blank, +and she scarcely seemed to recover herself until Mr. Strafford touched +her gently on the shoulder, late in the evening and said,</p> + +<p>"New York at last, Lucia."</p> + +<p>She got up then, in a hurried, confused way, and looked at her mother +helplessly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello, though to some degree she had shared Lucia's stunned +feeling during their journey, had watched her child with considerable +anxiety, and was glad of any change in her manner. She hastened to leave +the train, thinking that the few hours' rest they would have before +going on board<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> the steamer would be the best remedy for this strange +torpor. They found, however, when they reached the Hotel and went to +bed, that weary as they were, they could not sleep. The unaccustomed +noise of the city—the mere sensation of being in a strange place, kept +them both waking, and they were glad to get up early, and go down to the +vast empty drawing-room where Mr. Stafford could join them for the last +time, and talk of the subjects which were near the hearts of all three. +And yet, after all, they did not talk much. Those last hours which are +so precious, and in which we seem to have so much to say, are often +silent ones.</p> + +<p>The great house, like a city in itself, with its wide passages and +halls, and groups of strangers passing constantly to and fro, had +something dismal and desert like about it. Even the drawing-room was so +large and so destitute of anything like a snug corner where people could +be comfortable, that there was little chance of forgetting that they +were mere wayfarers. When the gong had sounded, and everybody assembled +for breakfast, the vast dining-room, coldly magnificent in white and +gold, and all astir with white jacketed waiters, seemed stranger and +more unhomelike still. Everything was novel,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> but for once novelty only +wearied instead of charming.</p> + +<p>By noon they were on board the steamer. Mr. Strafford went on board with +them and stayed till the last minute. But that soon came. The final +good-bye was said; the last link to Canada and Canadian life was broken. +They stood on deck and strained their eyes to watch the fast +disappearing figure till it was gone, and they felt themselves alone. +Then the vessel began to move out of the harbour, and night seemed to +come on all at once.</p> + +<p>They went down together to their cabin, and seated themselves side by +side in a desolate companionship. After a minute Lucia put her arms +tightly round her mother, and laying her head upon her shoulder, cried, +not passionately, but with a complete abandonment of all self-restraint. +Mrs. Costello did not try to check those natural and restoring tears. +She soothed her child by fond motherly touches, kissed her cheek or +smoothed her hair, but said not a word until the whole dull weight that +had been pressing on her had melted away. There was something strangely +forlorn in their circumstances which both felt, and neither liked to +speak of to the other. Leaving behind all the friends, all the +associations<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> of so many years, they were going alone—a feeble and +perhaps dying woman, and a young girl—into a strange world, where every +face would be new, and even their own language would grow unfamiliar to +their ears. Even the hope which had brightened this prospect to Lucia's +eyes, looked very dim, now that the time for proving it was at hand; and +of all others, the person who occupied her tenderest if not her most +frequent thoughts was the one who best deserved that she should think of +him—Maurice Leigh.</p> + +<p>Two days of their voyage passed without events. They began to feel +accustomed to their ship-life, and to make some little acquaintance with +other passengers. In spite of the cold, Lucia spent a good many hours on +deck. She used to go with Mrs. Costello every morning for a few quick +turns up and down, and then, when her mother was tired, she would wrap +herself up in the warmest cloaks and shawls that she could find, and +take her seat in a quiet corner, where she could lose sight of all that +went on about her and, with her face turned towards Canada, see nothing +but the boundless sea and sky. On the third day she was sitting in this +manner. There were a good many persons on deck<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> but she was left +tolerably undisturbed. Occasionally a lady would stop and speak to +her—the men, who were not altogether blind to her beauty, would have +liked perhaps to do the same, if her preoccupied air had not made a kind +of barrier about her, too great to be broken through without more +warrant than a two days' chance association; but she was thinking or +dreaming, and never troubled herself about them.</p> + +<p>The day was very bright, and there was a ceaseless pleasure in watching +the ripples of the sea as they rose into the cold silvery sunlight and +then passed on into the shadow of the ship; or in tracing far away, the +broad even track marked by edges of tiny bubbles, where the vessel's +course had been. Gradually she became aware through her abstraction of a +greater stir and buzz of conversation on the deck behind her; she +turned, and seeing everybody looking in one direction, rose and looked +too. A lady standing beside her said,</p> + +<p>"It is the Cunard steamer for New York. We think there are some friends +of ours on board, but I am afraid we shall not pass near enough to find +out."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how I wish we could!" Lucia answered,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> now thoroughly roused, for +the idea that Maurice also might be on board suddenly flashed into her +mind.</p> + +<p>She leaned forward over the railing of the deck, and caught sight of the +'India' coming quickly in the opposite direction, and could even +distinguish the black mass of her passengers assembled like those of the +'Atalanta' to watch the passing vessel. But that was all. Telescopes and +even opera-glasses were being handed from one to another, but she was +too shy to ask for the loan of one, though she longed for it, just for a +moment. Certainly it would have been useless. At that very time Maurice, +standing on the 'India's' deck, was straining his eyes to catch but one +glimpse of her, and all in vain. Fate had decided that they were to pass +each other unseen.</p> + +<p>But this little incident made Lucia sadder and more dreamy—more unlike +herself—than before. The voyage was utterly monotonous. In spite of the +season, the weather was calm and generally fine; and they made good +progress. The days when an unbroken expanse of sea lay round them were +not many, and on the second Sunday afternoon land was already in sight. +That day was unusually mild.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> Mrs. Costello and Lucia came up together +about two o'clock, and, after walking up and down for some time, they +sat down to watch the distant misty line which they might have thought a +cloud on the horizon, but which was gradually growing nearer and more +distinct.</p> + +<p>While they sat, a single bird came flying from the land. Its wings +gleamed like silver in the sunlight, and as it came, flying now higher, +now lower, but always towards the ship, they saw that it was no +sea-bird, but a white pigeon—pure white, without spot or tinge of +colour, like the glittering snow of Canada. It came quite near—it flew +slowly and gracefully round the ship—two or three times, it circled +round and round, and at last alighted on the rigging. There it rested, +till, as the sunlight quite faded away and the distant line of land +disappeared, it took flight again and vanished in the darkness.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the strong elasticity of youth and hope in Lucia's nature had +only waited for some chance touch to set it free, and make it spring up +vigorously after its repression. At any rate she found a fanciful omen +in the visit of the snow-white bird; and began to believe that in the +new country and the new life, there might be as much that was good and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +happy as in the old one. The last hours, full of excitement and +impatience as the voyage drew to a close, were not unpleasant ones. Very +early one morning a great commotion and a babel of unusual sounds on +deck awoke the travellers, and the stewardess going from room to room +brought the welcome news,</p> + +<p>"We are at Havre."</p> + +<p>Lucia was up in a moment. The stillness of the vessel, after its +perpetual motion, gave her an odd sensation, not unlike what she had +felt when it first began to move; but she was quickly dressed and on +deck. There were a good many people there, and the water all round was +alive with boats and shipping of every description, but Lucia's eyes +naturally turned from the more familiar objects to the unfamiliar and +welcome sight of land.</p> + +<p>A strange land, truly! The solid quays, the masses of building, older +than anything (except forest-trees) which she had ever seen, the quaint +dresses of the peasants already moving about in the early morning, all +struck her with pleased and vivid interest. For the wider features of +the scene she had at first no thought. Nature is everywhere the same, +through all her changes. To those who love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> her she is never wholly +unrecognizable, and when we meet her in company with new phases of human +life, we are apt to treat her as the older friend, and let her wait +until we have greeted the stranger. At least, Lucia did so. She had +indeed only time for a hurried survey, for their packing had to be +completed by her hands; and she knew that the arrival of the ship would +soon be known, and that if Mr. Wynter had kept his promise of meeting +them, he might appear at any moment. She went down, therefore, and found +Mrs. Costello dressing with hurried and trembling fingers, too much +agitated by the prospect of meeting her cousin, after so long and +strange a separation, to be capable of attending to anything.</p> + +<p>All was done, however, before they were interrupted. They wrapped +themselves up warmly, for the morning was intensely cold through all its +brightness, and went up on deck together. Lucia found a seat in a +sheltered place for Mrs. Costello, and stood near her watching the +constant stream of coming and going between the ship and the shore. They +had nothing to do for the present but wait, and when they had satisfied +themselves that, as yet, there was no sign of Mr. Wynter's arrival, +they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> had plenty of time to grow better acquainted with the view around +them.</p> + +<p>The long low point of land beside which they lay; the town in front, +with a flood of cold sunlight resting on its low round tower, and the +white sugar-loaf shaped monument, which was once the sailor's +landmark—the lofty chapel piously dedicated to Notre Dame de Bons +Secours now superseding it—the broad mouth of the Seine and the Norman +shore, bending away to the right—all these photographed themselves on +Lucia's memory as the first-seen features of that new world where her +life was henceforth to be passed.</p> + +<p>At last, when nearly all their fellow-passengers had bidden them +good-bye and left the ship, they saw a gentleman coming on board whom +they both felt by some instinct to be Mr. Wynter. He was a portly, +white-bearded man, as strange to Mrs. Costello as to Lucia, for the last +twenty years had totally changed him from the aspect she remembered and +had described to her daughter. Perhaps his nature as well as his looks +had grown more genial; at any rate, he had a warm and affectionate +greeting for the strangers, and if he had any painful or embarrassing +recollection such as agitated his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> cousin, he knew how perfectly to +conceal them. He had arrived the day before, but on arriving had heard +that the 'Atalanta' was not expected for twenty-four hours, so that the +news of her being in port came to him quite unexpectedly. He explained +all this as they stood on deck, and then hurried to see their luggage +brought up, and to transfer them to the carriage he had brought from his +hotel.</p> + +<p>Lucia felt herself happily released from her cares. She had no +inclination to like, or depend upon, her future guardian; but without +thinking about it, she allowed him to take the management of their +affairs, and to fall into the same place as Mr. Strafford had occupied +during their American journey.</p> + +<p>Only there was a difference; she was awake now, and hopeful, naturally +pleased with all that was new and curious, and only kept from thorough +light-heartedness by her mother's feeble and fatigued condition.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Costello seemed to grow stronger from the moment of their landing. +Mr. Wynter decided without any hesitation that they should remain at +Havre, at least until the next day. In the evening, therefore, they were +sitting quietly together when the important question of a future +residence for the mother and daughter came to be discussed.</p> + +<p>"I should like Lucia to see something of Paris," Mrs. Costello said, +"and to do that we should be obliged to stay a considerable time; for, +as you perceive, I am not strong enough to do much sight-seeing at +present."</p> + +<p>"I see," Mr. Wynter answered, nodding gravely. "We might get you a nice +little apartment there,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> and settle you for the winter; that would be +the best plan. I suppose you don't mind cold?"</p> + +<p>"That depends entirely on the sort of cold. Yes; I think we should +settle in Paris for a time, and then move into the country. Only I have +a great fancy not to be more than a day's journey from England."</p> + +<p>"In which I sympathize with you. It will be very much more satisfactory +to me to know that you are within a reasonable distance of us."</p> + +<p>Lucia sat and listened very contentedly to the talk of the elder people. +To her, whose only experience of relationship, beyond her mother, was +painful and mortifying, there was something she had not anticipated of +novelty and comfort in this new state of affairs. Her cousin's tone of +kinsmanship and friendliness was so genuine and unforced that she and +her mother both accepted it naturally, and forgot for the moment that, +to a little-minded man, such friendliness might have been difficult and +perhaps impossible.</p> + +<p>They decided to start for Paris next morning, Mr. Wynter saying that he +had arranged for a week's absence from England, and therefore would have +plenty of time to see them fixed in their new<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> residence before he left. +Then the conversation glided to other subjects, and Lucia losing her +interest in it, began to wonder where Percy was—whether they were again +on the same continent—whether he would hear, through the Bellairs, of +their movements—whether he thought of her. And from that point she went +off in some indescribable maze of dreams, recollections, and wishes, +through which there came, as if from a distance, the sound of voices +talking about England—about Chester—about her mother's old home and +old friends—and about her young cousins, the Wynters, and a visit they +were to make to France when spring should have set in.</p> + +<p>In the midst of all, the sound of a great clock striking broke the +stillness of the snowy streets, and, just after, a party of men passed, +singing a clamorous French song, and stamping an accompaniment with +their heavy shoes. Lucia smiled as she listened, and then sighed. In +truth this was a new life, into which nothing of the old one could come +except love and memory.</p> + +<p>Of course, they could not sleep that night. They missed the motion of +the ship, which had lately lulled them; they could not shake off the +impression<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> of strangeness and feel sufficiently at home to forget +themselves; and to Lucia, used to the healthy sleep of eighteen, this +was a much more serious matter than to one who had kept as many vigils +as Mrs. Costello. They appeared, therefore, in the morning to have +changed characters; Lucia was pale and tired, Mrs. Costello seemed +bright and refreshed.</p> + +<p>The rapid and uneventful journey to Paris ended, for the present, their +wanderings. When, on the following day, they started out in search of +apartments, Mrs. Costello looked round her in astonishment. More than +twenty years ago she had really known something of the city; now there +only seemed to be, here and there, an old landmark left to prove that it +was not altogether a new and strange place. Lucia was delighted with +everything. She no sooner saw the long line of the Champs Elysées than +she declared that there, and nowhere else, their rooms must be found.</p> + +<p>"In the city, mamma," she said, "you could not breathe; and as for +sleeping, you know what it was last night; and if we went further out, +we should see nothing."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello was too pleased to see her daughter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> looking and speaking +with something of her old liveliness to be inclined to oppose her +fancies, only she said with a smile,</p> + +<p>"The Champs Elysées is expensive—remember that, Lucia—and I am going +to make you keeper of the purse."</p> + +<p>"Very well, mamma, if it is too dear, of course there is no more to be +said; but you don't object to our trying to get something here, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Decidedly not. Let us try by all means."</p> + +<p>They found apartments readily enough; but to find any suited to their +means was, as Mrs. Costello anticipated, anything but an easy matter. +Lucia began, before the morning was over, to realize the fact that their +£400 a year, which had been a perfectly comfortable income in Canada, +would require very careful management to afford them at all a suitable +living in Paris.</p> + +<p>"It is only for a little while, though," she consoled herself. "In +summer we shall be able to go into the country and find something much +cheaper."</p> + +<p>So they continued their search, and at last found just what they wanted; +though to do so, they had to mount so many stairs that Lucia was afraid +her mother would be exhausted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do not think this will do, mamma," she said. "I should never dare to +ask you to go out, because when you came in tired, you would have all +this fatigue."</p> + +<p>But the rooms were comfortable and airy, and the difficulties of living +"au cinquième" were considered on the whole to be surmountable; so the +affair was settled. Then came the minor considerations of a new +housekeeping, and Margery was heartily regretted; though what the good +woman would have been able to do where she could neither understand nor +make herself understood, would not have been easy to say. Even Mrs. +Costello, who, in her youth, had had considerable practice in speaking +French, found herself now and then at a loss; and as for Lucia, having +only a sort of school-girl knowledge of the language, she instantly +found her comprehension swept away in the flood of words poured upon her +by every person she ventured to speak to. "Never mind, I shall soon +learn," she said in the most valiant manner; but, alas! for the present, +she was almost helpless, and Mrs. Costello had to arrange, bargain, and +interpret for both.</p> + +<p>They wound up their day's business by a little shopping, which, like +everything else, was new to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> Lucia. The splendid shops, lighted up in +the early dusk of the winter afternoon, were as different as anything +could be from the stores at Cacouna. A sudden desire to be possessed of +a purse full of money, which she might empty in these enchanted palaces, +was the immediate and natural effect of the occasion on the mind of such +an unsophisticated visitor. She became, indeed, so completely lost in +admiration, that her mother made her small purchases without being able +to obtain anything but the vaguest and most unsatisfactory opinions on +such trifling affairs.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wynter derived considerable amusement from watching his young cousin +and future ward. He told his wife afterwards that he had begun the day's +work entirely from a sense of duty towards poor Mary; but that for once +he had found that kind of thing almost as amusing as women seemed to do. +The young girl with her half-Indian nature, and wholly Canadian—ultra +Canadian—bringing up, was so bright, simple, and naïve, that she was +worth watching. Her wonderful beauty, and the unconscious grace of her +father's people, kept her from ever appearing countrified or awkward; +her simplicity was that of a lovely child, and was in no way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> discordant +with the higher nature she had shown in the bitter troubles and +perplexities of the past year. She felt safe now and hopeful, +inconceivably, absurdly hopeful—yet there was this difference between +the happiness of long ago and the happiness to-day, that then she +<i>could</i> not believe in sorrow, and now she only <i>would</i> not.</p> + +<p>They went back to their hotel for another night. Next day they moved to +the apartment they had taken, and submitted themselves to the +ministrations of Claudine, their French version of Margery. Submitted is +exactly the right word for Lucia's behaviour, at any rate. Claudine +appeared to her to have an even greater than common facility of speech; +it only needed a single hesitating phrase to open the floodgates, and +let out a torrent. Accordingly, until her stock of available French +should increase, Lucia decided to take everything with the utmost +possible quietness. She would devote herself to her mother, and to +becoming a little acquainted with Paris, and give Claudine the fewest +possible occasions for eloquence.</p> + +<p>Before the two days which Mr. Wynter spent with them in their new +dwelling were over, they had begun to feel tolerably settled. In fact, +Lucia's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> spirits, raised by excitement, were beginning to droop a +little, and her thoughts to make more and more frequent excursions in +search of the friends from whom she was so widely separated. She thought +most, it is true, of Percy, and her fancies about him were +rose-coloured; but she thought, also, a little sadly, of the dear old +home, and the Bellairs and Bella, and even Magdalen Scott, who had been +an old acquaintance, if never a very dear friend. She had many wondering +thoughts, too, about Maurice. Was he still in England? or was he in +Canada? was he at sea? would he come over to see them? would he even +know where to find them if he came? Of these last subjects she spoke +freely to her mother, only she kept utter silence as to Percy. So it +happened that Mrs. Costello, knowing her own estimate of her daughter's +lover, and strangely forgetting not only how different Lucia's had been, +but that in a nature essentially faithful, love increases instead of +dying, through time and absence, comforted herself, and believed that +all was now settled for the best. Neither Percy nor Maurice, it was +evident, would ever be Lucia's husband. Nothing could be more +satisfactory, therefore, than that she should have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> become indifferent +to the one, and have only a sisterly affection for the other. And yet, +with unconscious perversity, she was not satisfied. She allowed to +herself that Maurice's conduct had been reasonable enough. He had +accepted the common belief that Christian was the murderer of Dr. +Morton; and the conclusion which naturally followed, that Christian's +daughter, beautiful and good though she might be, was not a fit mistress +for Hunsdon; to have done otherwise, would have been Quixotic. Yet in +her heart she was bitterly disappointed. If he had but loved Lucia well +enough to dare to take her with all her inherited shame, how richly he +would have been rewarded when the cloud cleared away! Where would he +find another like her? And now, since Maurice could change, who might +ever be trusted?</p> + +<p>No doubt these meditations were romantic. If Mrs. Costello had been the +mother of half-a-dozen children—a woman living in the midst of a busy, +lively household, where motherly cares and castle-buildings had to be +shared among three or four daughters—she would not have had time to +occupy herself so intensely with the affairs of any one. As it was, +however, this one girl was her life of life;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> she threw into her +interests the hopes of youth and the experience of middle age. As Lucia +grew up, she had watched with anxiety, with hope, and with fear, for the +coming of that inevitable time when, either for good or evil, she must +love. It had been her fancy that, if Lucia loved Maurice, all would be +well; if she loved any other, all would be ill. But time had passed on, +and brought change; not one thing had happened according to her +anticipations. And she tried to believe that she was glad that it was +so, while a shadow of dissatisfaction lay at the bottom of her heart.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Wynter left Paris, he did so with the comfortable conviction +that his cousins were happily settled; and with the persuasion that, as +they both appeared to have a fair share of common sense, they would soon +forget their past troubles, and be just like other people.</p> + +<p>"I don't like Mary's state of health at present," he said to his wife; +"and, if I am not mistaken, she thinks even worse of it than I do; but +still, rest of mind and body may do a great deal; and now she is really +a widow, and quite safe from any further annoyances, I dare say she will +come round."</p> + +<p>"And her daughter?" asked Mrs. Wynter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> rather anxiously. "Do you think +she would get on with the girls?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I'm sure, my dear. She is not much like them, certainly, +or, indeed, like any English girl. She is wonderfully pretty, but quite +Indian in looks."</p> + +<p>"Poor child! what a pity!"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure about that. She seems a good girl, and Mary says is the +greatest comfort to her, so I suppose she is English at heart; and as +for her black eyes, there is something very attractive about them."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wynter sighed again. Lucia's beauty, of which it cannot be said +that Mr. Wynter's account was overdrawn, lost all its advantages in her +eyes by being of an Indian type. She could never quite persuade herself +that her husband had not been walking about the streets of Paris with a +handsome young squaw in skins and porcupine quills.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p>Poor Maurice! He came up the river early one glorious morning, and +standing on the steamboat's deck watched for the first glimpse of the +Cottage. His heart was beating so that he could scarcely see, but he +knew just where to look, and what to look for. At this time of year +there was no hope of seeing the fair figure watching on the verandah as +it had done when he went away, but the curl of smoke from the chimney +would satisfy him and prove that his darling was still in her old home. +He watched eagerly, breathlessly. Everything was so bright, that his +spirits had risen, and he felt almost certain he was in time. There, the +last bend of the river was turned, and now the trees that grew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> about +the Cottage and his father's house were visible—now the Cottage itself. +But suddenly his heart seemed to grow still—there was the house, there +was the garden where he and Lucia had worked, there was the slope where +they had walked together that last evening—but all was desolate. No +smoke rose from the chimney; and on the verandah, and on every ledge of +the windows snow lay deep and undisturbed; the path to the river was +choked and hidden, and by the little gate the drift had piled itself up +in a high smooth mound. Desolate!</p> + +<p>When the boat stopped at the wharf, there were happily few people about. +Maurice left his portmanteau, and taking the least public way hurried +off homewards. It was too late—that was his only thought; to see his +father, to know when they went, and if possible whither—his only +desire. He strode along the road, seeing and thinking of nothing but +Lucia. There was one chance, they might not yet have left Canada. But +then that ship, and the curious sense of Lucia's nearness which he had +felt when they passed it; she must have been on board! He felt as if he +should go mad when he came to his father's gate and saw all looking just +as usual, quite calm and peaceful under the broad wintry sunshine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> He +had only just sense enough at the very last minute to remember that his +father was an invalid to whom the joy of his coming might be a dangerous +shock. As he thought of this he turned round the corner of the house, +and in a moment walked into the kitchen where Mrs. George, the old +housekeeper, was busy washing up the breakfast-things.</p> + +<p>"Law, Mr. Maurice!" cried Mrs. George, and dropped her teacup and her +cloth together—happily both on the table.</p> + +<p>Coming into the familiar room, and seeing the familiar face, brought the +young man a little to himself. He held his impatience in check while he +received Mrs. George's welcome, answered her questions, and asked some +in return. Then he sent her in to tell his father of his arrival, and +began to walk up and down the kitchen while she was away.</p> + +<p>In a minute or two she came out of the sitting-room, and he went in. Mr. +Leigh had had his own troubled thoughts lately, but he forgot them all +when he saw his son. Just at first there was only the sudden agitating +joy of the meeting—the happiness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> of seeing Maurice so well—so +thoroughly himself and yet improved—of seeing him at home again; but +then came trouble.</p> + +<p>"So they are gone?" he said almost interrupting the first greetings, and +the old man instantly knew that all his fancies had been a mistake, and +that Maurice had come back to find Lucia.</p> + +<p>And they were gone; and he himself had been a coward and a traitor, and +had distrusted his own son and let them go away distrusting him! He saw +it now too late. A painful embarrassment seized him.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said hesitatingly. "They went a week ago."</p> + +<p>"By New York?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"In the 'Atalanta' for Havre?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. How did you know?"</p> + +<p>"I did not know. I only guessed. Where are they gone?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. Mrs. Costello said their plans were so uncertain that +she could not tell me."</p> + +<p>"Yet I should have thought, sir, that so old a friend as you might have +had a right to be told what her plans were?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She told no one—except that they would not stay long in any one place +at present."</p> + +<p>Maurice walked to the window and sighed impatiently.</p> + +<p>"A pleasant prospect!" he said, "They may be at the other end of Europe +before I can get back."</p> + +<p>He stood for a minute looking out, and tapping impatiently with his +fingers on the window-sill, while Mr. Leigh watched him, troubled, and a +little inclined to be angry. When he turned round again he had made up +his mind that it was no use to get out of temper, a pretty sure proof +that he was so already, and that the first thing to do was to find out +exactly what his father and everybody else knew about the Costellos. He +sat down, accordingly, with a sort of desperate impatient patience, and +began a cross-examination.</p> + +<p>"Did they leave no message for me?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing in particular. All sorts of kind remembrances; Lucia said you +would be sure to meet some day."</p> + +<p>"Did they never speak of seeing you in England?"</p> + +<p>"Never. On the contrary, my impression is that they had no intention of +going to England."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That is strange; yet if they had they would scarcely have gone by +Havre, unless to avoid all chance of meeting me."</p> + +<p>"Why should they do that?"</p> + +<p>Maurice said nothing, he only changed his position and looked at his +father. Mr. Leigh had asked the question suddenly, with the first dawn +of a new idea in his mind, but at his son's silent answer he shrank back +in his chair breathless with dismay. So after all he <i>had</i> been a +traitor! With his mistaken fancies about change and absence, he had been +doing all he could to destroy the very scheme that was dearest to him, +and which he now saw was dearest to Maurice also. And he knew now that +there had been something in Mrs. Costello's manner lately less friendly +to Maurice than was usual. He had done mischief which might be +irreparable. Guilty and miserable, he naturally began to defend himself.</p> + +<p>"If you had only told me!" he said feebly.</p> + +<p>"I had nothing to tell, sir. I went away, as you remember, almost at a +moment's notice, to please you and my grandfather. I could not speak to +Lucia then, because—for various reasons; but I know that Mrs. Costello +was my friend. After<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>wards she wrote to me when poor Morton was killed, +and told me some story I could not very well make out, but which of +course made no difference to me. Then came another letter with all the +truth about her marriage, which she seemed to think conclusive, and +which wound up by saying that she meant to take Lucia away—hide her +from me in fact. My grandfather was very ill then, and I had no time to +write to her, but my message just after his death was plain enough, I +thought—what did she say to it?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Leigh dropped his eyes slowly from his son's face, and put his hand +confusedly to his head.</p> + +<p>"What was it?" he said. "I can't remember."</p> + +<p>"Only two or three words. Just that all she could say did not alter the +case, or alter me."</p> + +<p>This was rather a free rendering of the original message, but it was +near enough and significant enough for Mr. Leigh to be quite sure he had +never heard such words before. They would have given him just that key +to his son's heart which he had longed for.</p> + +<p>"You must be mistaken," he answered. "I never received such a message as +that."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It was a postscript. I had meant to write to her and had not time."</p> + +<p>"You must have forgotten. You meant to send it."</p> + +<p>"I sent it, I am certain. Have you my letters?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. They are in that drawer."</p> + +<p>Maurice opened the drawer where all his letters had been lovingly +arranged in order. He remembered the look of the one he wanted and +picked it out instantly.</p> + +<p>"There it is, sir," he said, and held out to his father those two +important lines, still unread. Mr. Leigh looked at the paper and then at +Maurice.</p> + +<p>"I never saw it," he replied. "How could I have missed it?"</p> + +<p>"Heaven knows! It is plain enough. And my note, which came in the letter +before that; it was never answered. <i>That</i> may have miscarried too?"</p> + +<p>"There was no note, Maurice, my dear boy; there was no note. I wondered +there was not."</p> + +<p>"And yet I wrote one."</p> + +<p>Maurice was looking at his father in grievous perplexity and vexation, +when he suddenly became aware of the nervous tremor the old man was in.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +He went up to him hastily, with a quick impulse of shame and tenderness.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, father," he said. "I forgot myself and you. Only you cannot +know the miserable anxiety I have been in lately. Now tell me whether it +is true that you are stronger than when I left?"</p> + +<p>He sat down by the easy-chair and tried to talk to his father as if Mrs. +Costello and Lucia had no existence; but Mr. Leigh, though he outwardly +took courage to enjoy all the gladness of their union, was troubled at +heart. It was a grievous disappointment, this coming home of which so +much had been said and thought. No one could have guessed that the young +man had been out into the world to seek his fortune, and had come back +laden with gold, or that the older had just won back again the very +light of his eyes.</p> + +<p>Anxious as Maurice had been to avoid notice at the moment of his arrival +at Cacouna, he had been seen and recognized on the wharf, and the news +of his coming carried to Mr. Bellairs before he had been an hour at +home. So it happened that while the father and son sat together in the +afternoon, and were already discussing the first arrangements for their +return to England, a sleigh drove briskly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> up to the door, and Mr. and +Mrs. Bellairs came in full of welcomes and congratulations.</p> + +<p>"I knew we might come to-day," Mrs. Bellairs said, still holding her +favourite's hand and scanning his face with her bright eyes. "We shall +not stay long, but it is pleasant to see you home again, Maurice."</p> + +<p>"Don't say too many kind things, Mrs. Bellairs," he answered, "or you +will make me want to stay when I ought to be going."</p> + +<p>"Going! You are surely not talking of that yet?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I am. We hope to be away in a fortnight."</p> + +<p>"Oh! if you <i>hope</i> it, there is no more to be said."</p> + +<p>"If you knew how I have hoped to be here, and how disappointed I have +been to-day, you would not be so hard on me."</p> + +<p>They had both sat down now and were a little apart, for the moment, from +the others. Mrs. Bellairs was surprised at Maurice's words, though she +understood instantly what he meant. He had never before given her a +single hint in words of his love for Lucia, though she had been +perfectly aware of it. She guessed now that his grandfather's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> death had +changed his wishes into intentions, and that since he was in a position +to offer Lucia a share of his own good fortune, he no longer cared to +make any secret of his feelings towards her.</p> + +<p>"You did not expect that our friends would be gone," she asked in a tone +which expressed the sympathy she felt and yet could not be taken as +inquisitive. As for Maurice, he wanted to speak out his trouble to +somebody, and was glad of this result of his little impetuous speech.</p> + +<p>"I was altogether uncertain," he answered; "I wanted to start from +England a week sooner, and if I had done so, it seems, I should have +found them here; but I was hindered, and for some reason or other, they +chose to keep me in the dark as to their intentions."</p> + +<p>"Lucia often talked of you and of her regret at going away just when you +were expected."</p> + +<p>"She did? Do you know where they are?"</p> + +<p>"No; and that is the strangest thing. I believe their plans were not +quite fixed; but still Mrs. Costello was not a woman to start away into +the world without plans of some kind, and yet no one in Cacouna knows +more than that they sailed from New York to Havre."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is incomprehensible, except on one supposition. Did you ever hear +Mrs. Costello speak of my return?"</p> + +<p>"Not particularly. Don't be offended, Maurice, either with her or with +me, but I did fancy once or twice that she wished to be away before you +came. Only, mind, that is simply my fancy."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt you fancied right; but I have a thousand questions to +ask you. Tell me first—"</p> + +<p>"Maurice," interrupted Mr. Bellairs from the other side of the room, +"what is this your father says about going away immediately? You can't +be in earnest in such a scheme!"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I am," Maurice answered, getting up and standing with his +arm resting on the mantelpiece, "at least, if my father can stand the +journey."</p> + +<p>Mr. Leigh, full of self-reproach and secret disturbance, vowed that the +journey would do him good; that he was eager to see the old country once +again. He had resolved, as the penance for his blunder, that he would +not be the means of hindering his boy one day in his quest for Lucia. +Nevertheless, the discussion grew warm, for Mr. Bellairs having vainly +protested against a winter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> voyage for the Costellos, had his arguments +all ready and in order, and had no scruple in bringing them to bear upon +Maurice. Of course, they were thrown away, just so many wasted words; +the angry impatient longing that was in the young man's heart would have +been strong enough to overthrow all the arguments in the universe. Only +one reason would have been strong enough to keep him—his father's +unfitness for travel; and that could not fairly be urged, for Mr. Leigh +was actually in better health than he had been for years, and would not +himself listen to a word on the subject.</p> + +<p>Just before the visitors left, Maurice found an opportunity of asking +Mrs. Bellairs one of his "thousand questions."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Strafford, of Moose Island, was Mrs. Costello's great adviser, does +not he know?"</p> + +<p>"No; I wrote to him, and got his answer this morning. He only knew they +would probably stay some time in France."</p> + +<p>She was just going out to get into the sleigh as she spoke. Suddenly +with her foot on the step she stopped,</p> + +<p>"Stay! I have the address of a friend, a cousin,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> I think, of Mrs. +Costello's in England. Mr. Strafford sent it to me."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, thanks. I shall see you in the morning."</p> + +<p>Maurice went back joyfully into the house. Here was a clue. Now, oh, to +be off and able to make use of it!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + + +<p>Before going to bed on the very night of his arrival, Maurice found the +list of steamers, and with his father's approbation fixed upon one which +was advertised to sail in a few days over a fortnight from that time. It +happened to be a vessel the comfortable accommodation of which had been +specially praised by some experienced travellers, his fellow-passengers +in the 'India,' and the advantages of going by it being quite evident, +served to satisfy what small scruples of conscience Mr. Bellairs had +been able to awaken. He wrote, therefore, to secure berths and put his +letter ready to be taken into Cacouna next morning, when he should go to +pay his promised visit to Mrs. Bellairs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was early when Maurice awoke; he did so with a sense of having much +to do, but the aspect of his own old room, so strange now and yet so +familiar, kept him dreaming for a few minutes before that important +day's work could be begun. How bare and angular it seemed, how shabby +and poor the furniture! It never had been anything but a boy's room of +the simplest sort, and yet it had many happy and some few sad +associations, such as no other room could ever have for him. He recalled +the long ago days when his brother and he had shared it together, and +their mother used to come in softly at night to look that her two sons +were safe and well,—the later years, when mother and brother were both +gone, and he himself sat there alone reading or writing far into the +night. He thought of the many summer mornings when he had opened his +window to watch for the movement of Lucia's curtain, or for the glimpse +of her girlish figure moving about under the light shadows of the +acacias in the Cottage garden.</p> + +<p>But when he came to that point in his meditation, he sprang up +impatiently, and the uncomfortable irritating feeling that he had been +unfairly dealt with, tricked, in fact, began to take possession of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> him +again. However, it only acted as a stimulant. He began to feel that he +had entered into the lists with Mrs. Costello, and, regarding her as a +faithless ally, was not a little disposed to do battle with her <i>à +l'outrance</i>, and carry off Lucia for revenge as well as for love.</p> + +<p>Directly after breakfast he had out the little red sleigh in which last +winter he had so often driven his old playfellow to and from Cacouna, +and started alone. He had many visits of friendship or business to pay, +but he could not resist going first to Mrs. Bellairs.</p> + +<p>After all, now that the first sharpness of his disappointment was over, +it was pleasant to be at home and to meet friendly faces at every turn. +He had to stop again and again to exchange greetings with people on the +road, and even sometimes to receive congratulations on being a "rich man +now," "a lucky fellow"—congratulations which were both spoken and +listened to as much as if the lands of Hunsdon were a fairy penny, in +the virtues of which neither speaker nor hearer had any very serious +belief. In fact, there was something odd and incredible in the idea that +this was no longer plain Maurice Leigh, the most popular and one of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> the +poorest members of this small Backwoods world, but Maurice Leigh +Beresford, of Hunsdon, an English country gentleman rich enough, if he +chose, to buy up the whole settlement.</p> + +<p>Maurice went on his way, however, little troubled by his new dignity, +and found Mrs. Bellairs and Bella expecting him. They had guessed that +he would not delay coming for the promised address, and Mr. Strafford's +note containing it lay ready on the table; but when he came into the +room their visitor did actually for the moment forget his errand in +seeing the sombre black-robed figure which had taken the place of the +gay Bella Latour. He had gone away just before her wedding, he had left +her happy, bright, mischievous,—a girl whom sorrow had never touched, +who seemed incapable of understanding what trouble meant; he came back, +full of his own perplexities and disappointments, and found her one so +seized upon by grief that it had grown into her nature, and clothed and +crowned her with its sad pre-eminence. There was no ostentation of +mourning about the young widow, it is true, but none the less Maurice in +looking at her first forgot himself utterly, and then remembered his +impatience and ill-humour with more shame than was at all agreeable.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>To Bella also the meeting was a painful one. Of all her friends, Maurice +was the only one who was associated with her girlish happiness, and +quite dissociated from her married life and its tragic ending. The sight +of him, therefore, renewed for the moment the recollections which she +had taught herself to keep as much as possible for her solitary hours, +and almost disturbed the calm she had forced upon herself in the +presence of others.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs, however, used to her sister's calamity and ignorant of +Maurice's feelings, did not long delay referring to the Costellos.</p> + +<p>"Here is Mr. Strafford's note," she said. "I wrote and begged of him to +tell me by what means a letter would be likely to reach them, and this +is his answer."</p> + +<p>It was only a few lines, saying that Mrs. Costello had told him +expressly that she should remain for some time in France, and would +write to her Canadian friends as soon as she had any settled home, but +that in the meantime he believed her movements would be known by her +relative, Mr. Wynter, whose address he enclosed.</p> + +<p>Maurice, whose anxiety was revived by the sight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> of this missive, +examined it with as much care as if he expected to extract more +information from it than in reality the writer possessed, but he was +obliged to content himself with copying the address and giving the +warmest thanks to Mrs. Bellairs for the help he thus gained.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," she asked smiling, "that I may entrust you with a message +for Lucia?"</p> + +<p>Maurice looked rather foolish. He certainly did mean to follow up the +clue in person, but he had not said so, and he fancied Mrs. Bellairs was +inclined to laugh at him for his romance.</p> + +<p>"I will carry it if you do," he answered, "but I do not promise when it +will be delivered."</p> + +<p>"You are really going to England at the time you spoke of last night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And from England to France is not much of a journey?"</p> + +<p>"No; and I have not seen Paris yet."</p> + +<p>"Ah! well, you will go over and meet with them, and rejoice poor Lucia's +heart with the sight of a home face."</p> + +<p>"Shall I? Will they be homesick, do you think?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>They?</i> I don't know. <i>She</i> will, I think—do not you, Bella?"</p> + +<p>"At all events, she went away with her mind full of the idea that she +would be sure to see you before long."</p> + +<p>Perhaps this speech was not absolutely true, but Maurice liked Bella +better than ever as she said it. He got up soon after, and went his way +with a lighter heart about those various calls which must be made, and +which were pleasant enough now that he saw his way tolerably clear +before him with regard to that other and always most important piece of +business.</p> + +<p>When he got home he set himself to consider whether it were better to +write boldly to Mr. Wynter and ask for news of the travellers, or +whether to wait, and after taking his father to Hunsdon run over himself +to Chester, and make his request in person. There was little to be +gained by writing, for Mr. Wynter's answer, even if it were +satisfactory, would have to be sent to Hunsdon, and there wait his +arrival, while Mrs. Costello would have plenty of time to hear of his +application, and to baffle him if she wished to do so. He quickly +decided, therefore, to do nothing until he could go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> himself to Chester, +and from thence direct to the place, wherever that might be, where Lucia +was to be found.</p> + +<p>Mr. Leigh's day, meanwhile, had been far less comfortable than +Maurice's. He had made a pretence of looking over papers, and arranging +various small affairs in readiness for their voyage, but his mind all +the while had been occupied with two or three questions. Had Maurice +really sent to him a note for Mrs. Costello which by any carelessness of +his had been lost? Had the change he remembered in her manner been +connected with the loss? Had Lucia cared for Maurice? Had either mother +or daughter thought so ill of Maurice as he, his own father, had done? +The poor old man tormented himself, much as a woman might have done, +with these speculations, but he dared not breathe a word of them. He +even went so far in his self-accusations and self-disgust as to imagine +that if he had been his son's faithful helper, he might have prevented +that flight from the Cottage which had caused so much trouble and +vexation.</p> + +<p>Still, when Maurice came home full of energy and hope, and anxious to +atone for his unreason<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>ableness of the previous day, the aspect of +affairs brightened a good deal, and the evening passed happily with +both.</p> + +<p>But after that first day a certain amount of disturbance began to be +felt in the household. People came and went perpetually. There was so +much to be done, and so little time to do it in; and there was not only +the actual business of moving, but innumerable claims from old friends +were made upon Maurice, all of which had to be satisfied one way or +other.</p> + +<p>And the days flew by so quickly. Maurice congratulated himself again and +again on having provided so good a reason for leaving Cacouna at a +certain time. "Our berths are taken," was a conclusive answer to all +proposals of delay; and if it had not been for that, he often thought it +would have been impossible to have held to his purpose. But as it was, +all engagements, whatever they might be, had to be pressed into the +short space of a fortnight, and under the double impulse of Maurice's +own energies, and of that irrevocable <i>must</i>, things went on fast and +prosperously.</p> + +<p>It was well for Mr. Leigh that these last weeks in his old home were so +full of hurry and excite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>ment, and that he was supported by the presence +of his son, and by the thought that he was fulfilling what would have +been the desire of his much-beloved and long-lost wife; for the pain of +parting for ever from the places where so many years of happiness and of +sorrow had been spent—from the birthplace of his children, and the +graves which were sacred to his heart, grew at times very bitter, and +needed all his absorbing love for his last remaining child, to make it +endurable. It is quite true, however, that at other times, the idea of +meeting his old neighbour of the Cottage in that far-away and +half-forgotten England, and of seeing Maurice and Lucia once more +together, as he could not help but hope they would be, cheered him into +positive hopefulness and eagerness to be gone.</p> + +<p>Two days before their actual leaving, it was necessary for the household +to be broken up. Maurice wished to go for the interval to a hotel. +Cacouna had two,—long gaunt wooden buildings supposed to be possessed +of "every accommodation,"—but so many voices were instantly raised +against this plan, that it had to be given up, and Mrs. Bellairs, with +great rejoicing, carried off both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> father and son from half-a-dozen +other claimants. Literally, she only carried off Mr. Leigh, for Maurice, +who had entirely resumed his Canadian habits, was still deep in the +business of packing and of seeing to the arrangements for the morrow's +sale; but he had promised to have his work finished before evening, and +to join them in good time in Cacouna.</p> + +<p>As Mrs. Bellairs drove Mr. Leigh home in her own sleigh, flourishing the +whip harmlessly over Bob's ears and making him clash all his silver +bells at once with the tossing of his head, she could not help saying,</p> + +<p>"Don't you think now Maurice is such a rich man he ought to marry soon?"</p> + +<p>Her companion looked at her doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he is thinking of it," he answered.</p> + +<p>"When he is married," she went on with a little laugh, "he has promised +to invite us to England."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Leigh did not smile.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will come soon, then," he said.</p> + +<p>"You think there is a chance?"</p> + +<p>"I think it will not be his fault if there is not."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And I think he is not likely to find the lady very obstinate."</p> + +<p>"What lady? <i>Any</i> one or one in particular?"</p> + +<p>"I thought of one, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Lucia Costello?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You think she would marry him?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? Yes, I think so."</p> + +<p>"And her mother?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! I don't know; Mrs. Costello has a will of her own."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + + +<p>In the old days there had been a sort of antagonism between Bella Latour +and Maurice Leigh. They had necessarily seen a great deal of each other, +and liked each other after a certain fashion; but Maurice had thought +Bella too flighty, and inclined to fastness; and Bella had been +half-seriously, half-playfully disposed to resent his judgment of her. +But now, either because of the complete change in her character which +the last few months had wrought, or from some other cause, Mrs. Morton +and Maurice fell into a kind of confidential intimacy quite new to their +intercourse. It was only for two days, certainly, but during those two +days, and in spite of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> Maurice's occupations, they had time for several +long and very interesting conversations.</p> + +<p>In the first of these, which had begun upon some indifferent subject, +Bella surprised Maurice by alluding, quite calmly and simply, to the +imprisonment of the unfortunate Indian, Lucia's father. He had naturally +supposed that a subject so closely connected with her own misfortunes +would have been too deeply painful to be a permitted one, and had, +therefore, with care, avoided all allusion to it. In this, however, he +did not do her full justice. The truth was, that in her deep interest in +the Costellos, she had quietly forced herself to think and speak of the +whole train of events which affected them, without dwelling on its +connection with her own story. She never spoke of her husband—her +self-command was not yet strong enough for that—nor of Clarkson; but of +Christian, as the victim of a false accusation, she talked to Maurice +without hesitation.</p> + +<p>Up to that time there had been no very vivid idea in his mind either of +Christian himself, or of the way in which he had spent the months of his +imprisonment, and finally died. Indeed, in the constant change and +current of nearer interests, he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> thought little, after the first, +about this unknown father of his beloved. He had considered the matter +until it led him just so far as to make up his mind, quite easily and +without evidence, that Clarkson was probably the murderer, and that +Christian, whether innocent or guilty, was not to be allowed to separate +him from Lucia, and then, after that point, he ceased to think of +Christian at all. But now, he received from Bella the little details, +such as no letters could have told him, of the weeks since her husband's +death—chiefly of the later ones, and there were many reasons why these +details had a charm for him which made him want to hear more, the more +he heard. In the first place she spoke constantly of Lucia, and it +scarcely needed a lover's fancy to enable him to perceive how in this +time of trial she had been loving, helpful, wise even, beyond what +seemed to belong to the sweet but wilful girl of his recollection. He +listened with new thoughts of her, and a love which had more of respect, +as Bella described those bitter days of which Lucia had told her later, +when neither mother nor daughter dared to believe in the innocence of +the accused man, and when, the one for love, the other for obedience, +they kept their secret safe in their trem<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>bling hearts, and tried to go +in and out before the world as if they had no secret to keep.</p> + +<p>"Lucia used to come to me every day. I was ill, and her visits were my +great pleasure; she came and talked or read to me, with her mind full +all the while of that horrible idea."</p> + +<p>"She knew that it was her father?" asked Maurice. "I wonder Mrs. +Costello, after having kept the truth from Lucia so long, should have +told her all just then."</p> + +<p>Bella looked at him inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"She had told her before anything of this happened," she answered. "I +believe Lucia herself was the first to suspect that the prisoner was her +father."</p> + +<p>"And how did they find out?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Strafford went and visited him."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see him?"</p> + +<p>"No. Elise did for a few minutes just before his death; but I have heard +so much about him that I can scarcely persuade myself I never did see +him."</p> + +<p>"They were both with him at last?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Poor Lucia never saw him till then."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it, please."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>She obeyed, and told all that had happened both within her own knowledge +and at the jail, on the night of Christian's death and the day preceding +it. Her calmness was a little shaken when she had to refer to Clarkson's +confession, though she did so very slightly, but she recovered herself +and went on with her story, simply repeating for the most part what +Lucia and Mrs. Bellairs had told her at the time. When she had finished, +Maurice remained silent. He had shaded his eyes with his hand, and when, +after a minute's pause, he looked up again to ask her another question, +she saw that he had been deeply touched by the picture she had drawn.</p> + +<p>But Bella was really doing her friends a double service by thus talking +to Maurice. It was not only that Lucia grew if possible dearer than ever +to him from these conversations, but there was something—though Maurice +himself would not have admitted it—in making Lucia's father an object +of interest and sympathy, instead of leaving him a kind of dark but +inevitable blot on the history of the future bride.</p> + +<p>On the evening before Mr. Leigh and his son were to start for England, +as many as possible of their old friends were gathered together at Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +Bellairs' for a farewell meeting. Every one there had known the +Costellos; every one remembered how Maurice and Lucia had been +perpetually associated together at all Cacouna parties; every one, +therefore, naturally thought of Lucia, and she was more frequently +spoken of than she had been at all since she left. It seemed also to be +taken for granted that Maurice would see her somewhere before long, and +he was entrusted with innumerable messages both to her and her mother.</p> + +<p>"But," he remonstrated, "you forget that I am going to England, and that +they are in France—at least, that it is supposed so."</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes," he was answered, "but you will be sure to see them; don't +forget the message when you do."</p> + +<p>At last he gave up making any objection, and determined to believe what +everybody said. It was a pleasant augury, at any rate, and he was glad +to accept it for a true one.</p> + +<p>When all the visitors were gone, and the household had retired for the +night, Mr. Bellairs and his former pupil sat together over the +drawing-room fire for one last chat. Their talk wandered over all sorts +of subjects—small incidents of law business<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>—the prospects of some +Cacouna men who had gone to British Columbia—the voyage to England—the +position of Hunsdon—and Maurice had been persuading his host to come +over next summer for a holiday, when by some chance Percy was alluded +to.</p> + +<p>"You have not seen or heard anything of him, I suppose?" Mr. Bellairs +asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, I have," Maurice answered, slowly stirring the poker about +in the ashes as he spoke. "I met him only the other day in London."</p> + +<p>"Met him? Where?"</p> + +<p>"On a doorstep——," and he proceeded to describe their meeting.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have heard of his marriage by this time."</p> + +<p>"No. I heard from Edward Graham, an old friend of mine, that he was +going to be married, but that is the latest news I have of him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, Payne may have made a mistake. He told me it was coming off +in a day or two."</p> + +<p>"As likely as not. He might not think it worth while to send us any +notice."</p> + +<p>"The puppy! I beg your pardon, I forgot he was your cousin."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You need not apologise on that score. There is not much love lost +between us; and as for Elise, I never knew her inclined to be +inhospitable to anybody but him."</p> + +<p>"Was she to him?"</p> + +<p>"She was heartily glad to see the last of him, and so I suspect were +some other people."</p> + +<p>"What people?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Costello for one. He was more at the Cottage than she seemed to +like."</p> + +<p>Maurice hesitated, but could not resist asking a question.</p> + +<p>"Was he as much there afterwards as he was before the time I left?"</p> + +<p>"More, I think. Look here, Maurice; Elise first put it into my head that +he was running after Lucia, but I saw it plainly enough myself +afterwards, and I know you saw it too. I think we are old enough friends +for me to speak to you on such a subject. Well, my belief is, that +before Percy went away, he proposed to Lucia."</p> + +<p>"Proposed? Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that. He was really in love with her in his +fashion—which is not yours, or mine."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And she?"</p> + +<p>"Must have refused him, for he went away in a kind of amazed ruefulness, +which even you would have pitied."</p> + +<p>Maurice looked the reverse of pitiful for a moment.</p> + +<p>"But that is all supposition," he said.</p> + +<p>"Granted. But a supposition founded on pretty close observation. Only +mind, I do not say Lucia might not be a little sorry herself. You were +away, and a girl does not lose a handsome fellow like Percy, who has +been following her about everywhere as if he were her pet dog, without +feeling the loss more or less. At least that is my idea."</p> + +<p>"He has soon consoled himself."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow, everybody can't step into possession of £10,000 a year +all at once. Most people have to do something for a living, and the only +thing Percy could do was to marry."</p> + +<p>They said good-night soon after this, and went upstairs, Maurice +blessing the Fates which seemed determined to give him all possible hope +and encouragement. Only he could not quite understand this idea of Mr. +Bellairs'. He could imagine anybody, even Percy, being so far carried +away by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> Lucia's beauty as to forget prudence for the moment; but he +could not help but feel that it was improbable that Percy would have +gone so far as to propose to Lucia unless he were sure she would say +yes. Why, then, had she not said yes?</p> + +<p>Next morning the last farewells had to be said—the last look taken at +the old home. Night found father and son far on their way to New York, +and Maurice's eagerness all renewed by this fresh start upon his quest.</p> + +<p>There was little of novelty in the journey or the voyage. There were the +usual incidents of winter travelling—the hot, stifling car—the snowy +country stretching out mile after mile from morning till night—the +hotels, which seemed strangely comfortless for an invalid—and then the +great city with its noise and bustle, and the steamer where they had +nothing to do but to wait.</p> + +<p>And, at last, there was England. There was the Mersey and Liverpool, +looking, as they came in, much as if the accumulated dirt of the three +kingdoms had been bestowed there, but brightening up into a different +aspect when they had fairly landed and left the docks behind them. For +it was a lovely March day—only the second or third of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> month it is +true,—and winter, which they had left in full possession in Canada, +seemed to be over here, and the warm sunny air so invigorated Mr. Leigh +that he would not hear Maurice's proposal to rest until next day, but +insisted on setting out at once for Norfolk.</p> + +<p>As they drove to the railway they passed the jeweller's shop where +Maurice had bought Lucia's ring. Alas! it still lay in his pocket, where +he had carried it ever since that day—when would it find its +destination? He was not going to be disheartened now, however. He was +glad of the little disturbance to his thoughts of having to take tickets +and see his father comfortably placed, and at the very last moment he +was just able to seize upon a <i>Times</i>, and set himself to reading it as +if he had never been out of England.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + + +<p>Maurice had telegraphed from Liverpool, and the old-fashioned carriage +from Hunsdon met them at the last railway station. It was near sunset, +and under a clear sky the soft rich green of the grass gleamed out with +the brightness of spring. They soon turned into the park, and the house +itself began to be visible through the budding, but still leafless, +trees. Both father and son were silent. To the one, every foot of the +road they traversed was haunted by the memories of thirty years ago; to +the other, this coming home was a step towards the fulfilment of his +hopes. They followed their own meditations, glad or sorrowful, until the +last curve was turned, and they stopped before the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> great white pillars +of the portico. Then Maurice remembered that this was his first coming +home as master, and felt a momentary shyness take possession of him +before his own new importance. He had been able during his absence to +keep Hunsdon so much in the background, and to be so thoroughly the +natural, portionless, Maurice Leigh. He jumped out of the carriage, +however, and was too much occupied in helping his father, to think, for +the next few minutes, of his own sensations at all. Then he discovered +what he had not before thought about—that there were still two or three +of the old servants who remembered his mother and her marriage, and who +were eager to be recognised by "the Captain."</p> + +<p>And so the coming home was got over, and Mr. Leigh was fairly settled in +the house from which so long ago he had stolen away his wife. After he +had once taken possession of his rooms—the very ones which had been +hers,—he seemed to think no more about Canada, but to be quite content +with the new link to the past which supplied the place of his accustomed +associations. And, perhaps, he felt the change all the less because of +that inclination to return to the recollections of youth rather than of +middle age, which seems so universal with the old.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>Maurice sent over a messenger to Dighton to announce their arrival, and +to tell his cousin that he intended leaving home again after one day's +interval. That one day was fully occupied, but, as he had half expected, +in the afternoon Lady Dighton came over.</p> + +<p>She knew already of his disappointment, and had sympathised with it. She +came now with the kind intention of establishing such friendly relations +with Mr. Leigh as would make Maurice more comfortable in leaving his +father alone. She even proposed to carry the old man off to Dighton, but +that was decided against.</p> + +<p>"And you really start to-morrow?" she asked Maurice.</p> + +<p>"Early to-morrow morning. I cannot imagine what the railway-makers have +been thinking about; it will take me the whole day to get to Chester."</p> + +<p>"How is that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! there are about a dozen changes of line, and, of course, an hour to +wait each time."</p> + +<p>"Cut off the exaggeration, and it is provoking enough. Is it in Chester +this gentleman lives?"</p> + +<p>"No, three or four miles away, I fancy. I shall have to inquire when I +get there."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And after you find him what will you do?"</p> + +<p>"If I get their address, I shall go straight from Mr. Wynter to them, +wherever they are."</p> + +<p>"At St. Petersburg, perhaps, or Constantinople?"</p> + +<p>"Don't, Louisa, please. I thought you had some pity for one's +perplexities."</p> + +<p>"So I have. And I believe, myself, that they are in Paris."</p> + +<p>"I wish they may be—that is, if I get any satisfaction from my +inquiries. Otherwise, Paris is not exactly a place where one would +choose to set about seeking for a lost friend, especially with about +half-a-dozen sentences of available French."</p> + +<p>"Never fear. But if you should not find them, I would not mind going +over for a week or two to help you; I should be of some use as an +interpreter."</p> + +<p>"Will you come? Not for that; but if I do find them, I should so like to +introduce Lucia to you."</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth, I am rather afraid of this paragon of yours; and you +will be bringing her to see me."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I am making too sure of that without your telling me so. +After all, I may have my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> search for nothing. I do wish very much you +would come over."</p> + +<p>"Well, at Easter we will see. Perhaps I may coax Sir John over for a +week or two."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I shall depend on that."</p> + +<p>"But remember you must send me word how you fare."</p> + +<p>"I will write the moment I have anything to tell."</p> + +<p>"Impress upon your father, Maurice, that we wish to do all we can for +his comfort. I wish he would have come to us."</p> + +<p>"I think he is better here. Everything here reminds him of my mother, +and he feels at home. But I shall feel that I leave him in your hands, +my kind cousin."</p> + +<p>Maurice bade his father good-bye that night, and early next morning he +started on his journey to Chester. What a journey it was! His account to +Lady Dighton had been exaggerated certainly, but was not without +foundation. Again and again he found himself left behind, chafing and +restless, by some train which had carried him for, perhaps, an hour, and +obliged to amuse himself as best he could until a fresh one came, in +which he would travel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> another equally short stage. It was a windy, +rainy day, with gleams of sunshine, but more of cloud and shower, and +grew more and more stormy as it drew towards night. Before he reached +Chester the wind had risen to a storm, and sheets of rain were being +dashed fiercely against the carriage windows. At last they did roll into +the station with as much noise and importance as if delay had been a +thing undreamt of, on <i>that</i> line at any rate; and Maurice hurried off +to make his inquiries, and find a carriage to take him to Mr. Wynter's.</p> + +<p>So far, certainly, he prospered. He found that his destination was +between four and five miles from the city, but it was perfectly well +known, and a carriage was soon ready to take him on.</p> + +<p>The road seemed very long, as an unknown road travelled in darkness and +in haste generally does. The wind howled, and rattled the carriage +windows, the rain still dashed against the glass with every gust, and at +times the horses seemed scarcely able to keep on through the storm. At +last, however, they came to a stop, and Maurice, looking out, found +himself close to a lodge, from the window of which a bright gleam of +light shone out across the rainy darkness. In a minute a second light +came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> from the opening door, the great gates rolled back, and the +carriage passed on into the grounds. There were large trees on both +sides of the drive, just faintly visible as they swayed backwards and +forwards, and then came an open space and the house itself. There was a +cheerful brightness there, showing a wide old-fashioned porch, and, +within, a large hall where a lamp was burning. Maurice hurried in to the +porch, and had waited but a minute when a servant in a plain, +sober-coloured livery came leisurely across the hall and opened the +glass door, through which the visitor had been trying to get his first +idea of the place and its inhabitants.</p> + +<p>"Was Mr. Wynter in?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Was he expected?"</p> + +<p>"Not to-night, certainly—perhaps not to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wynter?" That was a guess. Maurice had never troubled himself till +then to think whether there <i>was</i> a Mrs. Wynter.</p> + +<p>"She was at home, but engaged."</p> + +<p>Maurice hesitated a moment. "I must see her," he thought to himself, and +took heart again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have made a long journey," he said, "to see Mr. Wynter; will you give +my card to your mistress, and beg of her to see me for a moment?"</p> + +<p>The man took the card and led the visitor into a small room at one side +of the hall, where books and work were lying about as if it had been +occupied earlier in the day, but which was empty now. Then he shut the +door and carried the card into the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wynter had friends staying with her. There was a widow and her son +and daughter, and one or two young people besides, as well as all the +younger members of the Wynter family. The two elder ladies were having a +little comfortable chat over their work, and the others were gathered +round the piano, when Maurice's arrival was heard.</p> + +<p>"Who can it be?" Mrs. Wynter said doubtfully. "It is not possible Mr. +Wynter can be back to-night."</p> + +<p>The eldest daughter came to the back of her mother's chair.</p> + +<p>"Listen, mamma," she said; "or shall I look if it is papa?"</p> + +<p>"No indeed, my dear. It can't be. Walter!" for one of the boys was +cautiously unlatching the door, "come away, I beg."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>Meanwhile all listened, so very extraordinary did it seem that anybody +should come unannounced, so late, and on such a night.</p> + +<p>Presently the door opened, and everybody's eyes, as well as ears, were +in requisition, though there was only a card to exercise them on.</p> + +<p>"A gentleman, ma'am, who says he has come a long way to see master, and +would you speak to him for a moment?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wynter took up the card, and her daughter read it over her +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Leigh Beresford?" she said. "I do not know the name at all. You said +Mr. Wynter was from home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am. The gentleman seemed very much put out, and then said could +he see you?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose he must;" and Mrs. Wynter began, rather reluctantly, to put +aside her embroidery, and draw up her lace shawl around her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"But what a pretty name! Mamma, who can he be?"</p> + +<p>"And, mamma, if he is nice bring him in and let us all see him."</p> + +<p>"No, don't; we don't want any strangers. What <i>do</i> people come after +dinner for?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Wynter paid no attention to her daughters, but having made up her +mind to it, walked composedly out of the room, and into the one where +Maurice waited. She came in, a fair motherly woman, in satin and lace, +with a certain soft <i>comfortableness</i> about her aspect which seemed an +odd contrast to his impatience. He took pains to speak without hurry or +excitement, but did not, perhaps, altogether succeed.</p> + +<p>"I must beg you to pardon me this intrusion," he said. "I hoped to have +found Mr. Wynter at home, and I wished to ask him a question which I +have no doubt you can answer equally well if you will be so good."</p> + +<p>"If it relates to business," Mrs. Wynter began, but Maurice interrupted,</p> + +<p>"It is only about an address. I have just arrived in England from +Canada; I am an old friend and neighbour of Mrs. Costello, and have +something of importance to communicate to her, will you tell me where +she is?"</p> + +<p>Poor Maurice! he had been getting his little speech ready beforehand, +and had made up his mind to speak quite coolly, but somehow the last few +words seemed very much in earnest, and struck<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> Mrs. Wynter as being so. +She looked more closely at her guest.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Costello is in France. Did I understand that you had known her in +Canada?"</p> + +<p>"I have known her all my life. I spent the last summer and autumn in +England, and did not return to Canada until after she had left, but she +knew that I should have occasion to see her, or write to her as soon as +I could reach home again, and I am anxious to do so now."</p> + +<p>"You are aware that Mrs. Costello wishes to live very quietly? Her +health is much broken."</p> + +<p>"I know all. Mrs. Costello has herself told me. Pray trust me—you may, +indeed."</p> + +<p>"You will excuse my hesitation if you do know all; but, certainly, I +have no authority to refuse their address."</p> + +<p>She got up and opened a desk which stood on a table in the room. She had +considered the matter while they were talking, and come to the +conclusion that the address ought to be given, while at the same time +she wished to know more of the person to whom she gave it.</p> + +<p>"I wish Mr. Wynter had been at home," she said after a minute's pause, +during which she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> turning over the papers in the desk, and Maurice +was watching her eagerly. "He would have been able to tell you something +of your friends, for he only returned home a week or two ago from +meeting them."</p> + +<p>"Are they in Paris?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Are you returning to Canada?"</p> + +<p>"No. Perhaps, Mrs. Wynter, you would like to have my address? My coming +to you as I have done, without credentials of any sort, must certainly +seem strange."</p> + +<p>"Thank you; you will understand that I feel in some little difficulty."</p> + +<p>"I understand perfectly." He wrote his name and address in full and gave +it to her. "Mrs. Costello was a dear friend of my mother's," he said; +"she has always treated me almost as a son, and I cannot help hoping +that what I have to say to her may be welcome news."</p> + +<p>"Do you expect to see her, then, or only to write?"</p> + +<p>"I am on my way to Paris. I hope to see them."</p> + +<p>"Here is the address. You have had a long journey, the servant told me."</p> + +<p>"From Hunsdon. And the journey out of Nor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>folk into Cheshire is a +tiresome one. Thank you very much. Can I take any message to Mrs. +Costello?"</p> + +<p>"None, thank you, except our kindest remembrances. But you will let me +offer you something—at least a glass of wine?"</p> + +<p>But Maurice had now got all he wanted. He just glanced at the precious +paper, put it away safely, declined Mrs. Wynter's offers, and was out of +the house and on his way back to Chester in a very short space of time.</p> + +<p>"What an odd thing!" Mrs. Wynter said as she settled herself comfortably +in the easy-chair again.</p> + +<p>"Who was he, mamma? What did he want?"</p> + +<p>"He was a Canadian friend of your cousin Mary's wanting her address."</p> + +<p>"What! come over from Canada on purpose?"</p> + +<p>"It almost seemed like it, though that could not be, I suppose, for here +is his address—'Maurice Leigh Beresford, Hunsdon, Norfolk.'"</p> + +<p>"Beresford?" said the widow, "Why the Beresfords of Hunsdon are great +people—very grand people, indeed. I used to know something of them."</p> + +<p>"Did he look like a grand person, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"He seemed a gentleman, certainly. I know no more."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Was he young or old?"</p> + +<p>"Young."</p> + +<p>"Handsome or ugly?"</p> + +<p>"Need he be either?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. Which, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Not ugly, decidedly. Tall, and rather dark, with a very frank, +honest-looking face."</p> + +<p>"Young, handsome, tall, dark, and honest-looking! Mamma, he's a hero of +romance, especially coming as he did, in the rain and the night."</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly, Tiny. Mamma, is not my cousin Lucia a great beauty?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Costello and Lucia had grown, to some degree, accustomed to their +Paris life. Its novelty had at first prevented them from feeling its +loneliness; but as time went on, there began to be something dreary in +the absence of every friendly face, every familiar voice. Mrs. Costello +would not even write to Canada until she could feel tolerably sure that +her letters would only arrive after the Leighs had left; she had taken +pains to find out all Mr. Leigh could tell her of Maurice's intentions, +and she guessed that, for one reason or another, he would not be likely +to stay longer in Cacouna than was necessary. Even when she wrote to +Mrs. Bellairs she did not give her own address, but that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> of the banker +through whom her money was transmitted.</p> + +<p>She felt sore and angry whenever she thought of Maurice. She had +perceived Mr. Leigh's embarrassed manner, and guessed, by a +half-conscious reasoning of her own, that he believed his son changed +towards them, but she did not guess on how very small a foundation this +belief rested. She had thought it right to give up, on Lucia's behalf, +any claim she had on the young man's fidelity; but to find him so very +ready to accept the sacrifice, was quite another thing. It was so unlike +Maurice, she said to herself; and then it occurred to her that Mr. +Beresford might have planned some marriage for his grandson as a +condition of his inheritance. Certainly she had heard no hint of such a +thing, and up to a short time ago she was pretty sure Maurice himself +could have had no idea of it; yet it was perfectly possible, and Mr. +Leigh might have been warned to say nothing to her about it. All these +thoughts, though Maurice might, if he had known, have been inclined to +resent them, had the effect of keeping him constantly in Mrs. Costello's +mind; and she puzzled over his conduct until she came to have her wishes +pretty equally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> divided; on one hand, desiring to keep to her plan of a +total separation between Lucia and him; and on the other, longing to see +or hear of him, in order to know whether her former or her present +opinion of him was the correct one.</p> + +<p>It happened, therefore, that Maurice was much more frequently spoken of +between the mother and daughter than should have been the case if Mrs. +Costello had carried out her theories. If Lucia had been ever so little +"in love" with him when she reached Paris, she would have had plenty of +opportunity for increasing her fancy by dwelling on the object of it; +but Mrs. Costello's wishes were forwarded by the very last means she +would have chosen as her auxiliary. Lucia talked of Maurice because she +thought of him as a friend, or rather as a dear brother. She said +nothing of Percy, but she dreamt of him, and longed inexpressibly to +hear even his name mentioned. She had heard nothing of him, except some +slight casual mention, since he went away. He had said then that, +perhaps in a year, she might change her mind; and she had said to +herself, "Surely he will not forget me in a year." And now spring was +coming round again, and all that had separated them was removed; there +was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> not even the obstacle of distance; no Atlantic rolled between them; +nay, they might be even in the same city. But how would he know? She +could do nothing. She had done all in her power to make their parting +final. How could she undo it now? She did not dare even to speak to her +mother of him, for she knew that on that one subject alone there had +never been sympathy between them. And she said to herself, too, deep in +her own heart, that it must be a great love indeed which would be +willing to take her—a poor, simple, half-Indian girl—and brave the +world, and, above all, that terrible old earl and his pride, for her +sake.</p> + +<p>Still she dreamed and hoped, and set herself, meanwhile, all the more +vigorously because of that hope, to "improve her mind." She picked up +French wonderfully fast, having a tolerable foundation to go upon and a +very quick ear, and she read and practised daily; beside learning +various secrets of housekeeping, and attending her mother with the +tenderest care. But it was very lonely. Lucia had never known what +loneliness meant until those days when she sat by the window in the +Champs Elysées and watched the busy perpetual stream of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> passers up and +down—the movements of a world which was close round about, yet with +which she had no one link of acquaintance or affection. It was very +lonely; and because she could not speak out her thoughts, and say, "Is +Percy here? Shall I see him some day passing, and thinking nothing of my +being near him?" she said the thing that lay next in her mind, "I wish +Maurice were here! Don't you, mamma?"</p> + +<p>They had been more than a month in their new home. The routine of life +had grown familiar to them; they knew the outsides, at least, of all the +neighbouring shops; they had walked together to the Arc de Triomphe on +the one side, and to the Rond Point on the other; they had driven to the +Bois de Boulogne, and done some little sight-seeing beside. They had +done all, in short, to which Mrs. Costello's strength was at present +equal, and had come to a little pause, waiting for warmer weather, and +for the renewal of health, which they hoped sunshine would bring her.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Claudine had been obliged to go out, and the little +apartment was unusually quiet. Mrs. Costello, tired with a morning +walk,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> had dropped into a doze; and Lucia sat by the window, her work on +her lap, and her eyes idly following the constant succession of +carriages down below. To tell the truth, she constantly outraged +Claudine's sense of propriety, by insisting on having one little crevice +uncurtained, where she could look out into the free air; and to-day she +was making use of the privilege, for want of anything more interesting +indoors. She had no fear of being disturbed, for they had no visitors; +in all Paris, there was not one person they knew, unless—. Percy had +been there a great deal formerly, she knew, and might be there now, but +he would not know where to find them if he wished it; no one could +possibly come to-day. And yet the first interruption that came in the +midst of the drowsy, sunny silence, was a ring at the door-bell. Lucia +raised her head in surprise, and listened. Mrs. Costello slept on. Who +could it be? not Claudine, for she had the key. Must she go and open the +door? It seemed so, since there was no one else; and while she hesitated +there was another ring, a little louder than the first.</p> + +<p>She got up, put down her work, and went towards the door. "I wish +Claudine would come,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> she said to herself; but Claudine was not likely +to come yet, and meanwhile somebody was waiting.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I shall have a flood of French poured over me," she thought +dolorously; but there was clearly no help.</p> + +<p>She went to the door, and opened it; a gentleman stood there—a +gentleman! She uttered one little cry—</p> + +<p>"Maurice!"</p> + +<p>And then they were both standing inside the closed door; and he held her +two hands in his, and they were looking at each other with eyes too full +of joy to see well.</p> + +<p>"Lucia!" he said; "just yourself." But somehow his voice was not quite +steady, and he dare not trust it any further.</p> + +<p>"We wanted you so, and you are come. Oh, Maurice! you are good to find +us so soon!"</p> + +<p>"Did you think I should not?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell. How could you know where we were?"</p> + +<p>"I went to Chester, and asked."</p> + +<p>"To Chester? To my cousin's? Just to find us out?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why not? Did not you know perfectly well that my first thought when I +was free would be to find you?"</p> + +<p>He spoke half laughing, but there was no mistaking his earnestness in +the matter; was not he here to prove it? Tears came very fast to Lucia's +eyes. This was really like the old happy days coming back.</p> + +<p>"Come in," she said, "mamma is here." But mamma still slept undisturbed, +for their tones had been low in the greatness of their joy; and Maurice +drew Lucia back, and would not let her awake her.</p> + +<p>"She looks very tired," he said rather hypocritically; "and it will be +time enough to see me when she awakes. Don't disturb her."</p> + +<p>Lucia looked at her mother anxiously. She knew this sleep was good for +the invalid, and yet it might last an hour, and how could she wait all +that time for the thousand things she wanted to hear from Maurice? The +door of their tiny salle à manger stood a little open.</p> + +<p>"Come in here, then," she said, "we shall be able to see when she +wakes—and <i>I must</i> talk to you."</p> + +<p>Maurice followed obediently—this was better than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> his hopes, to have +Lucia all to himself for the first half hour. She made him sit down in +such a manner that he could not be seen by Mrs. Costello, while she +herself could see through the open door and watch for her mother's +waking.</p> + +<p>"And now tell me," she asked, "have you been back to Canada?"</p> + +<p>"I started the moment I could leave England after my grandfather's +death, but when I reached Cacouna you were gone."</p> + +<p>"Dear old home! I suppose all looked just as usual?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing looked as usual to me. As I came up the river I saw that the +cottage was deserted, and that changed all the rest. But indeed I had +had a tolerable certainty before that you were gone."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Do you remember meeting a Cunard steamer two days out at sea?"</p> + +<p>"You were on board? How I strained my eyes to see if I could distinguish +you!"</p> + +<p>"Did you? And I too. But though I could not see you, I felt that you +were on board the ship we met."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was sitting on deck, longing for a telescope. Well, it is all right +now. Did you bring Mr. Leigh home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he is at Hunsdon, safe and well."</p> + +<p>"Hunsdon is your house now, is not it? Tell me what it is like?"</p> + +<p>"A great square place, with a huge white portico in front—very ugly, to +tell the truth; but you would like the park, Lucia, and the trees."</p> + +<p>"It must be very grand. Does it feel very nice to be rich?"</p> + +<p>"That depends on circumstances. But now do you think you are to ask all +the questions and answer none?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. There is one answer."</p> + +<p>"Do you like Paris?"</p> + +<p>"Well enough. It is very lonely here without anybody."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to stay here?"</p> + +<p>"For a month or two, I think."</p> + +<p>"You will not be quite so lonely then in future—at least if I may come +to see you."</p> + +<p>"May come? That is a new idea. But are you going to stay in Paris, too?"</p> + +<p>"I must stay for a few weeks. And I expect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> my cousin Lady Dighton over +soon, and she wants to know you."</p> + +<p>"To know <i>us</i>? Oh, Maurice! you forget what a little country girl I am, +and mamma, poor mamma is not well enough to go out at all, scarcely."</p> + +<p>"Is she such an invalid, really? Have you had advice for her?"</p> + +<p>"It is disease of the heart," Lucia said in a very low sorrowful tone, +all her gaiety disappearing before the terrible idea—"the only thing +that is good for her is to be quiet and happy—and the last few months +have been so dreadful, she has suffered so."</p> + +<p>"And you? But I have heard all. Lucia, I would have given all I am worth +in the world to have been able to help you."</p> + +<p>"I often wished for you, especially when I used to fear that our old +friends would desert us. I never thought <i>you</i> would."</p> + +<p>"There is some comfort in that. Promise that whatever may come, you will +always trust me."</p> + +<p>He held out his hand, and Lucia put hers frankly in it.</p> + +<p>Just at that moment there was a stir, and Mrs. Costello called "Lucia."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Costello woke up gradually from her doze. She had been dreaming of +Cacouna, and that Maurice and Lucia were sitting near her talking of his +journey to England. She opened her eyes and found herself in a strange +room which she soon recognized, but still it seemed as if part of her +dream continued, for she could hear the murmur of two voices, very low, +and could see Lucia sitting in the adjoining room and talking to +somebody. Lucia, in fact, had forgotten to keep watch.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello listened for a minute. It was strangely like Maurice's +voice. She sat up, and called her daughter.</p> + +<p>Lucia started up and came into the salon. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> bent down over her +mother, and kissed her to hide her flushed face and happy eyes for a +moment.</p> + +<p>"Are you rested, dear mamma?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling. Who is there?"</p> + +<p>"A visitor, mother, from England."</p> + +<p>"From England? Not your cousin?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. Guess again."</p> + +<p>"Tell me. Quickly, Lucia."</p> + +<p>"What do you say to Maurice?"</p> + +<p>"Impossible!"</p> + +<p>But Maurice, hearing his own name, came forward boldly.</p> + +<p>"I have but just arrived, Mrs. Costello. I told you I should find you +out."</p> + +<p>They looked at each other with something not unlike defiance, but +nevertheless Mrs. Costello shook hands with her guest cordially enough. +Certainly he <i>had</i> kept his word—there might be a mistake somewhere, +and at all events, for the present moment he was here, and it was very +pleasant to see him.</p> + +<p>So the three sat together and talked, and it seemed so natural that they +should be doing it, that what did begin to be strange and incredible was +the separation, and the various events of the past six months. But after +Claudine had come in, and Lucia had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> obliged to go away "on +hospitable cares intent," to arrange with her some little addition to +the dinner which Maurice was to share with them, the newcomer took +advantage of her absence, and resolved to get as many as possible of his +difficulties over at once. He had not yet quite forgiven his faithless +ally, and he meant to make a new treaty, now that he was on the spot to +see it carried out.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," he began, "that my coming so unexpectedly must have +startled you a little, but I thought it was best not to write."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello could not help smiling—she was quite conscious of her +tactics having been surpassed by Maurice's.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to see you, at any rate," she said, "now you <i>are</i> here; but" +she added seriously, "you must not forget, nor try to tempt me to +forget, that we are all changed since we met last."</p> + +<p>"I do not wish it. I don't wish to forget anything that is true and +real, and I wish to remind you that when I left Canada I did so with a +promise—an implied promise at any rate—from you, which has not been +kept."</p> + +<p>"Maurice! Have you a right to speak to me so?"</p> + +<p>"I think I have. Dear Mrs. Costello, have some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> consideration for me. +Was it right when I was kept a fast prisoner by my poor grandfather's +sick-bed, when I was trusting to you, and doing all I could to make you +to trust me—was it fair to break faith with me, and try to deprive me +of all the hopes I had in the world? Just think of it—was it fair?"</p> + +<p>"I broke no faith with you. I felt that I had let you pledge yourself in +the dark; that in my care for Lucia, and confidence in you, I had to +some extent bound you to a discreditable engagement. I released you from +it; I told you the truth of the story I had hidden from everybody—I +wrote to you when my husband lay in jail waiting his trial for murder, +and I heard no more from you. It was natural, prudent, right that you +should accept the separation I desired—you did so, and I have only +taken means to make it effectual."</p> + +<p>"I did so! I accepted the separation?"</p> + +<p>"I supposed, at least, from your silence that you did so. Was not I +right therefore in desiring that you and Lucia should not meet again?"</p> + +<p>"<i>That</i> was it, then? Listen, Mrs. Costello. My last note to you seems +by some means to have been lost. There was nothing new in it; but my +father has told me that he was surprised on receiving my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> letter which +ought to have contained it, to find nothing for you, not even a message; +perhaps you wondered too. I can only tell you the note was written. +Then, in my next letter, written when my grandfather was actually dying, +and when I was, I confess, very angry that you should persist in trying +to shake me off, there was a message to you in a postscript which my +father overlooked, and which I myself showed to him for the first time +when I reached home and found you gone. What he had been thinking, +Heaven knows. I had rather not inquire too closely; but I will say that +it is rather hard to find that the people who ought to know one best, +cannot trust one for six months."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello listened attentively while Maurice made his explanation +with no little warmth and indignation.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that you did not perceive how foolish and wrong it +had become for you to think of marrying Lucia?"</p> + +<p>"How in the world could it be either foolish or wrong for me to wish to +marry the girl I have loved all my life? Unless, indeed, she preferred +somebody else."</p> + +<p>"Remember who she is."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am not likely to forget that after all I have lately heard about her +from Mrs. Morton."</p> + +<p>"And that you have a family and a position to think of now."</p> + +<p>"And a home fit to offer to Lucia."</p> + +<p>"Obstinate boy!"</p> + +<p>"Call me what you will, but let it be understood that I have done +nothing to forfeit your promise. I am to take no further answers except +from Lucia."</p> + +<p>"But you know, at least, that our worst fears were unfounded?"</p> + +<p>"Of course they were. I always knew that would come right. But you have +suffered terribly; I am ashamed of my own selfishness when I think of +it."</p> + +<p>"We have suffered. And my poor child so innocently, and so bravely. +Maurice, she is worth caring for."</p> + +<p>"You shall see whether I value her or not. Here she comes!"</p> + +<p>Lucia came in, the glow of pleasure still on her face which Maurice's +arrival had brought there. It was no wonder that both mother and lover +looked at her with delight as she moved about, too restlessly happy to +sit still, yet pausing every minute to ask<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> some question or to listen +to what the others were saying. Indeed not one of the three could well +have been happier than they were that afternoon. Mrs. Costello felt that +she had done all she could in the cause of prudence, and therefore +rejoiced without compunction in seeing her favourite scheme for her +darling restored to her more perfect than ever. Maurice, without having +more than the minimum quantity of masculine vanity, had great faith in +the virtues of perseverance and fidelity, and took the full benefit of +Lucia's delight at seeing him; while Lucia herself was just simply +glad—so glad that for an hour or two she quite forgot to think of +Percy.</p> + +<p>Maurice declared he had business which would keep him in Paris for some +weeks. He claimed permission therefore to come every day, and to take +Lucia to all the places where Mrs. Costello was not able to go.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how charming!" Lucia cried. "I shall get some walks now. Do you +know, Maurice, mamma will not let me go anywhere by myself, and I can't +bear to make her walk; but you will go, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will," Maurice said; but after that he went away back to his +hotel, with his first uncom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>fortable sensation. Was Lucia still really +such a child? Would she always persist in thinking of him as an elder +brother—a dear brother, certainly, which was something, but not at all +what he wanted? How should he make her understand the difference? That +very day, her warm frank affection had been a perfect shield to her. The +words that had risen to his lips had been stopped there, as absolutely +as if he had been struck dumb. 'But I need not speak just yet,' he +consoled himself. 'I must try to make her feel that I am of use to her, +and that she would miss me if she sent me away. My darling! I must not +risk anything by being too hasty.'</p> + +<p>He wrote two notes that night; one to his father, the other to Lady +Dighton, which said,</p> + +<p>"Do come over. I am impatient to show Lucia to you. She is more +beautiful and sweeter than ever. Of course, you will think all I say +exaggerated, so do come and judge for yourself. I want an ally. All is +right with Mrs. Costello, but I own I want courage with Lucia to "put it +to the test." Suppose after all I should lose? But I dare not think of +that."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello slept little that night. A second<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> time within a year she +saw all her plans destroyed, her anticipations proved mistaken; the +brighter destiny she had formerly hoped for, was now within her child's +grasp. Wealth, honour, and steadfast love were laid together at her +feet. Would she gather them up? Would she be willing to give herself +into the keeping of this faithful heart which had learnt so well "to +love one maiden and to cleave to her?" The doubt seemed absurd, yet it +came and haunted the mother's meditations. She knew perfectly that Lucia +had no thought of Maurice but as a friend or brother. She could not +quite understand how it had always continued so, but she knew it had. +She had never been willing to think of her child's regard for Percy as +likely to be a lasting feeling, and at most times she really did +consider it only as a thing of the past; yet to-night it came before her +tiresomely, and she remembered what Mrs. Bellairs had told her lately +about his marriage. She resolved once to ask Maurice whether he had +heard anything of it, but, on second thoughts, she decided that it was +better to leave the matter alone.</p> + +<p>There was yet another person on whom Maurice's coming had made a most +lively impression. Claudine, as soon after her first sight of him as she +could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> get hold of Lucia, had a dozen questions to ask. "Was he +Mademoiselle's brother? Her cousin then? Only a friend? What a charming +young man! How tall he was! and what magnifiques yeux bruns! Now, +surely, Mademoiselle would not be so <i>triste</i>? She would go out a +little? and everybody would remark them, Mademoiselle being so graceful, +and monsieur so <i>very</i> tall."</p> + +<p>Lucia told her mother, laughing, that she and Maurice were going to walk +up the Champs Elysées next day, with placards, saying that they were two +North Americans newly caught; and when Maurice came next morning, she +repeated Claudine's comments to him with a perfect enjoyment of the good +little woman's admiration for "ce beau Monsieur Canadien."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + + +<p>After that day, Paris became quite a different place to Lucia. Maurice +was with them most of every day, and every day they saw something new, +or made some little country excursion. The weather, though still rather +cold, was fine and bright; winter had fairly given place to spring, and +all externally was so gay, sunny and hopeful, that it was quite +impossible to give way either to sad recollections of the past, or to +melancholy thoughts of the future.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello's health seemed steadily, though slowly improving; she had +now no anxiety, except that one shadowy doubt of Lucia's decision with +regard to Maurice, and that she was glad to leave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> for the present in +uncertainty. She felt no hesitation in letting the two young people go +where they would together; they had always been like brother and sister, +and, at the worst, they would still be that.</p> + +<p>When this pleasant life had lasted about ten days, Maurice came in one +morning and said,</p> + +<p>"What do you say to a visitor to-day, Lucia?"</p> + +<p>Lucia looked up eagerly with clasped hands,</p> + +<p>"Who?" she cried. "Not your cousin?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Maurice! I am afraid of her—I am indeed. I am sure she is a +<i>grande dame</i>, and will annihilate me."</p> + +<p>"Silly child! She is a tiny woman, with a fair little face and not a bit +of grandeur about her. You yourself will look like a queen beside her."</p> + +<p>"She is your very good friend, is not she?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed she is. Promise me to try to like her."</p> + +<p>"Of course, I will try. Is she really coming here?"</p> + +<p>"She wishes to call this afternoon."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia looked round the room. It was nice enough, and pretty in its way +with its mirrors, gilt ornaments, and imposing clock on the mantelpiece; +but it was so small! Three people quite filled it up. But she finished +her survey with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"If they would only let us have less furniture!" she said. "It was all +very well as long as we had nothing better than tables and chairs to +fill up the room with; but at present—"</p> + +<p>She finished her sentence with a little shrug, in imitation of Claudine, +which made Maurice laugh also. He proceeded, however, to warn her that +worse was in reserve.</p> + +<p>"Louisa will come alone, to-day," he said, "because I told her Mrs. +Costello was an invalid, but you must expect that next time she will +bring her husband, and Sir John is no small person I assure you."</p> + +<p>"When did they arrive?"</p> + +<p>"Last night."</p> + +<p>"How long will they stay, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Two or three weeks I imagine, but I know nothing positively of their +plans."</p> + +<p>"And Maurice, tell me when you must go back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> to England? I do not want +our pleasant life to end just as suddenly as it began."</p> + +<p>"Nor do I. I am not going just yet."</p> + +<p>"But have not you quantities of affairs to attend to, you important +person?"</p> + +<p>"My most serious affair at present is in Paris. Don't be afraid, I am +not forgetting my duties."</p> + +<p>"Then we cannot go out to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Put on your bonnet and come now for a walk."</p> + +<p>"I must ask mamma, and tell her your news. She is late this morning."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello had risen late since she came to Paris. Lucia found her +dressed and discussing some household affair with Claudine.</p> + +<p>"Only think, mamma," she began. "Lady Dighton came over yesterday and is +coming to see you to-day."</p> + +<p>But the news was no surprise to Mrs. Costello, who had received a hint +from Maurice that he wished to see his cousin and Lucia friends, before +he ventured on that decisive question to which they all, except Lucia, +were looking forward so anxiously. But she was keenly alive to the +desire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> that her child should make a favourable impression on this lady, +who had evidently some influence with Maurice, and who, if the +wished-for marriage took place, would become Lucia's near relative and +neighbour. She said nothing at all about this, however, and was +perfectly content that the young people should take one of those long +walks which brought such a lovely colour into her daughter's pale +cheeks, and so gave the last perfecting touch to her beauty.</p> + +<p>Maurice left Lucia at the door, and went back to the hotel where he had +promised Lady Dighton to lunch with her. She was waiting for him, +looking more than usually fair and pretty in the mourning she wore for +her grandfather. He could not help thinking, as he came in, how rich and +handsome everything about her seemed, in contrast to the bare simplicity +of his poorer friends—yet certainly nature had intended Lucia for a +much more stately and magnificent person than this little lady.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she said smiling. "Have you persuaded your friends to receive +me? I can assure you my curiosity has nearly overpowered me this +morning."</p> + +<p>"You will be disappointed, of course. You are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> imagining a heroine, and +you will see only a young country girl."</p> + +<p>"For shame, Maurice! If I am imagining a heroine, I wonder whose fault +it is?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you would not form your judgment for a week. You are enough of a +fine lady, Louisa, to be a little affected by externals, and my pearl +has no fine setting at present; it will need looking at closely to find +out its value."</p> + +<p>"And you think, oh most philosophical of lovers! that I am not capable +of distinguishing a real pearl unless it is set in gold, and has its +price ticketed?"</p> + +<p>"I think, at least, that I am so anxious to see you the same kind friend +to her as you have been to me, that I am troubling myself uselessly +about the first impressions."</p> + +<p>"On both sides? Well, trust me, Maurice I will like your Lucia for your +sake, and try to make her like me."</p> + +<p>"Thank you; I know you will. And after the first, you will not be able +to help loving her."</p> + +<p>"Sir John is not to go with us?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless you particularly wish it. Where is he?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Gone out shopping. Don't laugh. I suspect his shopping is of a +different kind to mine, and quite as expensive."</p> + +<p>"Can anything be as expensive as the charming bonnets I heard you +talking of this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Take care. Only hint that I am extravagant, and I will devote myself to +corrupting Lucia, and avenge myself by making your pocket suffer."</p> + +<p>"I wish my pocket had anything to do with it. Pray be careful, Louisa, +and remember that I have not dared to speak to her yet."</p> + +<p>"I shall remember. Come to lunch now. Sir John will not be in."</p> + +<p>Maurice tried in vain to talk as they drove slowly along to Mrs. +Costello's. The street was full of people, and Lady Dighton amused +herself by looking out for acquaintances, and saluting those they met. A +good many English were in Paris; and she had also a pretty large circle +of French people with whom she was on friendly terms; so that she had +quite enough occupation to prevent her noticing her cousin's silence. +But the moment the carriage stopped, she was ready to give her whole +attention<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> to him and his affairs; she gave him a little nod and smile +full of sympathy as she went up the staircase, and the moment Claudine +opened the door he perceived that he might leave everything in her hands +with the most perfect confidence in her management.</p> + +<p>There had been a little flutter of expectation in Lucia's mind for the +last half-hour, in which she wondered her mother did not express more +sympathy; and when, at last, the door opened, she was seized with a +sudden tremor, and for an instant felt herself deaf and blind. The +moment passed, however, and there came sweeping softly into the room a +little figure with golden hair and widely flowing draperies; a fair face +with a pleasant smile, and a clear musical voice; these were the things +that first impressed her as belonging to Maurice's formidable cousin.</p> + +<p>Lady Dighton's first words were of course addressed to Mrs. +Costello—they seemed to Lucia to be a plea for a welcome, as Maurice's +near relation—and then the two young women stood face to face and +exchanged one quick glance. Lady Dighton held out her hand.</p> + +<p>"Miss Costello," she said, "you and I are so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> totally unlike each other, +that I am certain we were meant to be friends—will you try?"</p> + +<p>The suddenness and oddity of the address struck Lucia dumb. She gave her +hand, however, to her new friend with a smile, and as she did so, her +eye caught the reflection of their two figures in a glass opposite.</p> + +<p>Truly, they were unlike each other—very opposites—but either because, +or in spite of the difference, they seemed to suit each other.</p> + +<p>Half an hour spent in calling upon or receiving a call from an entire +stranger, is generally a very heavy tax on one's good humour; but +occasionally, when the visit is clearly the beginning of a pleasant +acquaintance—perhaps a valuable friendship—things are entirely +different. Lady Dighton had come with the intention of making herself +agreeable, and few people knew better how to do it; but she found no +effort necessary, and time slipped away more quickly than she thought +possible. She stayed, in fact, until she felt quite sure her husband +would have been waiting so long as to be growing uneasy, and when she +did get up to go away, she begged Mrs. Costello and Lucia to dine with +her next day.</p> + +<p>"And Maurice," she said, "you must persuade<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> Miss Costello to join us in +an excursion somewhere. It is quite the weather for long drives, and our +holiday will not be very long, you know."</p> + +<p>"I am entirely at your command," Maurice said, "and Lucia must do as she +is bid, so pray settle your plans with Mrs. Costello."</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Costello said decidedly that to dine out for herself was out of +the question—she had not done so for years.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I am so sorry," Lady Dighton said. "But of course we must not ask +you in that case—Miss Costello may come to us, may she not? I will take +good care of her."</p> + +<p>Lucia had many scruples about leaving her mother; but, however, it was +finally settled that the Dightons should call for her next day—that +they should have a long drive to some place not yet fixed upon—and that +she should afterwards spend the evening with them.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello was pleased that her child should go out a little after +her long seclusion from all society; and the whole plan was arranged +with little reference to Lucia, who vainly tried to avoid this long +absence from her mother.</p> + +<p>The two cousins were scarcely on their road when Lady Dighton asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Well, Maurice, am I to reserve my opinion?"</p> + +<p>"As you please," he answered smiling. "I am sure it is not very +unfavourable."</p> + +<p>"She is wonderfully beautiful; and, what is most strange, she knows it +without being vain."</p> + +<p>"Vain? I should think she was not!"</p> + +<p>"What grace she has! With her small head and magnificent hair and eyes, +she would have had quite beauty enough for one girl without being so +erect and stately. You never gave me the idea that she was so +excessively handsome, Maurice."</p> + +<p>"Is she? I don't believe I knew it. You see I have known her all her +life—I know every one of her qualities, I believe, good and bad; and +all her ways. I knew she had the purest nature and the warmest, bravest +heart a woman could have; but I have thought very little about her +beauty by itself."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, let me tell you, she only needs to be seen—she is quite +lovely; and as for the rest, I do not know yet, but I am very much +inclined to think you may be right. At all events, we are going to be +good friends, and by-and-by I shall know all about her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + + +<p>Lucia came home late in the evening. Mrs. Costello, resuming her old +habits, had sent the servant to bed, and herself admitted her daughter. +They went into the drawing-room together to talk over the day's doings.</p> + +<p>"You look very bright," Mrs. Costello said with her hand on Lucia's +shoulder. "You have enjoyed yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma, <i>so</i> much. You know I was a little afraid of Lady Dighton, +and dreadfully afraid of Sir John. But they have both been so good to +me; just like people at Cacouna who had known me all my life."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello smiled. She was very glad this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> friendship seemed likely +to prosper. Yet it was not very wonderful that any one should like +Lucia.</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing?"</p> + +<p>"We went to Versailles, and saw the gardens. We had no time for the +Palace; but Maurice is going to take me there another day. Then we came +home and had dinner; and where do you think we have been since?"</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"To the theatre! Oh, mamma, it was so nice! You know, I never was in one +before."</p> + +<p>Lucia clasped her hands, and looked up at her mother with such a +perfectly innocent, childish, face of delight, that it was impossible +not to laugh.</p> + +<p>"What a day of dissipation!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but just for once, you know. And I could not help it."</p> + +<p>"I do not see why you should have wished to help it. How about your +French? Could you understand the play?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty well. It was very shocking, you know. Lady Dighton says the best +French plays always are. I cried a little, and I was so ashamed of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +myself; only I saw some other people crying too, so then I did not mind +so much."</p> + +<p>"You did not really see much of Lady Dighton, then, if you were driving +all afternoon and at the theatre all evening?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes; we had a long talk before dinner. When we came in, she said, +'Now, Maurice, you must just amuse yourself how you can for an hour. Sir +John has English papers to read, and Miss Costello and I are going to my +room to have a chat.' So she took me off to her dressing-room, and we +were by ourselves there for quite an hour."</p> + +<p>"In which time, I suppose, you talked about everything in heaven and +earth."</p> + +<p>"I don't know. No, indeed; I believe we talked most about Maurice."</p> + +<p>"He is a favourite of hers."</p> + +<p>"She says she liked him from the first. She is so funny in her way of +describing things. She said, 'We English are horribly benighted with +regard to you colonists; and my notions of geography are elementary. +When grandpapa told me he had sent for his heir from Canada, I went to +Sir John and asked him where Canada was. He got a big map and began to +show me; but all I could under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>stand was, that it was in North America. +I saw an American once. I suppose I must have seen others, but I +remember one particularly, for being an American; he was dreadfully thin +and had straight black hair, and a queer little pointed black beard, and +I <i>think</i> he spoke through his nose; and really I began to be haunted by +a recollection of this man, and to think I was going to have a cousin +just like him.' Then she told me about going over to Hunsdon and finding +he had arrived. She said that before the end of the day they were fast +friends."</p> + +<p>"He was not like what she expected, then?"</p> + +<p>"Just the opposite. She made me laugh about that. She said, 'I like +handsome people, and I like an English style of beauty for men. My poor +dear Sir John is not handsome, though he has a good face; but really +when a man is good-looking <i>and</i> looks good, I can't resist him.'"</p> + +<p>"You seem to have been much occupied with this question of looks. Did +you spend the whole hour talking about them?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma! Why that was only the beginning."</p> + +<p>"What was the rest, then? or some of it, at least?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She told me how good Maurice was to his grandfather, and how fond Mr. +Beresford grew of him. Do you know that Maurice was just going to try to +get away to Canada at the very time Mr. Beresford had his last attack? +Lady Dighton says he was excessively anxious to go, and yet he never +showed the least impatience or disappointment when he found he could not +be spared."</p> + +<p>"He must have felt that he was bound to his grandfather."</p> + +<p>"He nursed him just like a woman, Lady Dighton says, and one could fancy +it. Could not you, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"I don't find it difficult to believe anything good of Maurice."</p> + +<p>"Oh! and then she told me about Hunsdon. She was born there, and lived +there till she was married. She told me all about why Mr. Beresford left +it to Maurice, and not to her. But, mamma, I cannot understand how +Maurice can be so long away from home. I should think he must have +quantities of things to attend to; and she told me Sir John was always +busy, though his estate is not so large as Hunsdon. Only think, mamma, +of Maurice,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> our Maurice, having more than ten thousand a year!"</p> + +<p>"Well, dear, since we have come to talking of our neighbour's fortunes, +I think we had better go to bed."</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes; how thoughtless I am, keeping you up so. And I must be early +to-morrow, for Lady Dighton is coming to see you, and Maurice wants me +to go with him for a walk first. Not to see anything, but just for a +walk."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello lay down that night with a great feeling of content with +regard to her daughter's future.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," she thought, "Maurice may be satisfied with the affection +she has for him; if it is not just the kind of love he wishes for, that +is only because it has never entered her mind that he could be anything +but a brother to her. She is so excessively childish in some things! I +shall be glad now when she really does begin to understand. Only, must I +part with her? Better that than that I should leave her alone; better +even than that she should have to go among strange relatives."</p> + +<p>Maurice had asked Lucia to walk with him for the sake of having her +quite to himself for an hour, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> perhaps of asking that much meditated +question. He had specially bargained that they were not to "go +anywhere;" but simply to choose a tolerably quiet road and go straight +along it. Accordingly they started, and went slowly up the sunny slope +towards the great arch, talking of yesterday, and of the trifles which +always seemed interesting when they spoke of them together. After they +had passed the barrier, they hesitated a little which road to take—they +had already made several expeditions in this direction, and Lucia wanted +novelty. Finally they took the road to Neuilly, and went on for a time +very contentedly. But Maurice, after a while, fell into little fits of +silence, thinking how he should first speak of the subject most +important to him. He felt that there could be no better opportunity than +this, and he was not cool enough to reflect that it was waste of trouble +to try to choose his words, since if Lucia accepted him she would for +ever think them eloquent; and if she refused him, would be certain to +consider them stupid. She, on the other hand, was in unusually high +spirits. It had occurred to her that Lady Dighton, who seemed to know +everybody, would probably know Percy. She had begun already to lay deep +plans for finding out if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> this was the case, and after that, where he +was at present. She had thought of him so much lately, and so tenderly; +she had remembered so often his earnestness and her own harshness in +that last interview, that she felt as if she owed him some reparation, +and as if his love were far more ardent than hers, and must needs be +more stable also. The idea that she had advanced a step towards the +happiness of meeting him again, added the last ingredient to her +content. She could have danced for joy.</p> + +<p>They walked a considerable distance, and Maurice had not yet found +courage for what he wanted to say. Lucia began to think of her mother's +loneliness, and proposed to return; he would have tempted her further, +but a strange shyness and embarrassment seemed to have taken possession +of him. They had actually turned round and begun to walk towards home +before he had found a reason for not doing it.</p> + +<p>"Lucia," he said abruptly, after one of the pauses which had been +growing more and more frequent, "don't you wish to go over to England?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do," she answered with some sur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>prise; "I wish we <i>could</i> +go. You know I always used to wish it."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you try now you are so near?"</p> + +<p>"Surely, Maurice, you know mamma cannot go."</p> + +<p>"I remember hearing something about your grandfather having wished her +not to do so. Forgive me if it is a painful subject; but do not you see +that things are quite changed now?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think she could, then? But I <i>don't</i> see."</p> + +<p>"Her father, I suppose, wished to avoid the chance of her marriage being +gossipped about. His idea of her going back to England was naturally +that she would go among her own relations and old acquaintance who knew +the story. Now, I believe that she might go to any other part of the +island—say Norfolk, for instance—and obey his wishes just as much as +by staying in Paris."</p> + +<p>"To Norfolk? Why, then, we should be near you? Oh! do try to persuade +her."</p> + +<p>"I must have you decidedly on my side then. I must be enabled to offer +her a great inducement. If, for instance, I could tell her that you had +made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> up your mind to come and live in Norfolk, she might say yes."</p> + +<p>"Ah! but she would have to make up her mind first. See Maurice," she +broke in abruptly, "what is that little building on the other side the +road? There are some people who look like English going in."</p> + +<p>"Don't mind that now, I want to talk to you."</p> + +<p>"We have been talking. Only tell me what it is?"</p> + +<p>"It is a chapel built on the place where the Duke of Orleans was killed +some years ago."</p> + +<p>"I remember now somebody told me about it; his monument is there."</p> + +<p>"Very likely. I know nothing about it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Maurice! to speak in that tone, when it was such a sad thing."</p> + +<p>"There are so many sad things—one cannot pity everybody."</p> + +<p>"You are cross this morning. What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. What do you want me to do?"</p> + +<p>"Just now I want you to take me in there. I see it is open."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was no help; the moment was gone. Lucia's head was full of the +unhappy Duke of Orleans, and it would, have been very bad policy, +Maurice thought, to oppose her whim. He rang the bell, and they were +admitted without difficulty into the open space in front of the chapel. +The old man who let them in pointed to the half-open door, and, saying +that his wife was in there with a party, retreated, and left them to +find their own way into the building itself. They passed quietly through +the entrance and into the soft grey light of the chapel. Lucia stopped +only to take one glance of the tiny interior, so coldly mournful with +its black draperies and chill white and grey marble, and then passed +round to examine more closely the monument which marks the very spot +where the fatal accident occurred. Maurice followed her. They stood half +concealed by the monument, and speaking low, while the tones of other +voices could be distinctly heard from the recess behind the altar where +the English visitors were examining the picture of the Duke's death. +There was one rather high-pitched female voice which broke the solemn +stillness unpleasantly, and as it became more audible, Lucia laid her +hand softly on Maurice's arm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> to make him listen, and looked up in his +face with eyes full of laughter. The lady was talking French to the +guide with a strong English accent and in a peculiar drawl, which had a +very droll effect. It was a manner new to them both, though Maurice +could not help thinking, as he listened, of Percy in his worst moods.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to have seen it," the voice said, "and quite by chance, too; +it is excessively interesting, so melancholy. Ah! you say that they laid +him just there? It makes one shudder! No, I will not go near the place; +it is too shocking."</p> + +<p>At the last words Maurice and Lucia saw the speaker emerge from behind +the altar on the side furthest from where they stood. She was a tall +woman, neither young nor pretty, but very fashionable—distinguished, +Lucia supposed she should be called; and but for the peculiarity of her +voice, would have made a favourable rather than an unfavourable +impression on a stranger. She stopped just at the top of the steps, and +turned round to speak again to some one behind her who was still +concealed by the altar. This time she spoke English in a lower tone, and +with a greater drawl.</p> + +<p>"Really, Edward," she said, "it is very small.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> Pray don't give the +woman much; you know how heavy our expenses are. I think I ought to +carry the purse."</p> + +<p>"As you please, my dear; it would save me trouble, certainly."</p> + +<p>At the sound of that second voice Maurice started and looked at Lucia. +She had suddenly grasped at the stonework before her, and stood looking +with passionate eagerness over the carved figure of the dying Duke +towards the altar. He almost shuddered at the intensity of that +gaze—the rigidity of intolerable suspense in her whole figure; but he +could only be still and watch her.</p> + +<p>The unconscious Englishwoman moved on; close behind her, following her +with his old languid manner, came the man Lucia was watching for—Edward +Percy.</p> + +<p>Still she never stirred. They passed down the chapel with her eyes upon +them, but they never saw her, and she made no sound or movement. Only +when they were no longer in sight, everything seemed to grow suddenly +black and confused about her—her hold upon the marble relaxed, and she +would have fallen if Maurice had not gently supported her, and drawn her +to a seat close by.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>She did not faint, though she was cold and white and powerless. After a +minute Maurice, bending over her, saw that she was trying to speak. Her +lips seemed stiff and hardly able to form the words, but he made out,</p> + +<p>"Who is she?"</p> + +<p>He hesitated a moment; but she saw that he <i>could</i> answer, and her eyes +insisted on her question.</p> + +<p>"She is his wife," he answered; "they were married, I believe, a month +or six weeks ago."</p> + +<p>Suddenly, at his words, the blood seemed to rise with one quick rush to +her very temples.</p> + +<p>"You knew," she said, "and would not tell me!"</p> + +<p>Then after her momentary anger came shame, bitter and intolerable, for +her self-betrayal. She bent down her face on her hands, but her whole +figure shook with violent agitation. Maurice suffered scarcely less. His +love for her gave him a comprehension of all, and a sympathy unspeakable +with her pain. He laid his hand lightly on her shoulder as he had often +done in her childish troubles, but one word escaped him which he had +never spoken to her before,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My darling! my darling!"</p> + +<p>Perhaps she did not hear it; but at least she understood that through +all the pang of her loss, there remained with her one faithful and +perfect affection; and even at that moment she was unconsciously +comforted.</p> + +<p>But the Percys were gone, and the guide was coming back into the chapel +after a word or two at the door with her husband; Maurice had to decide +instantly what to do. He said to Lucia,</p> + +<p>"Wait here for me," and then going forward to meet the woman, he +contrived to make her comprehend that the lady was ill; and that he was +going for a carriage. He then hurried out, and Lucia was left alone in +the chapel with the good-natured Frenchwoman, who looked at her +compassionately and troubled her with no questions.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes the poor child remained too bewildered to notice +anything; but when at last she raised her head, and saw that Maurice was +not there, she grew frightened. Had she been so childish and +uncontrolled as to have disgusted even him? Had he left her, too? She +tried to get up from her seat, but she could not stand. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> guide saw +her attempt, and thought it time to interfere.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur would be back immediately," she said. "He was gone for a +carriage. It was unfortunate madame should be taken ill so suddenly."</p> + +<p>Lucia smiled a very miserable kind of smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, "it was unfortunate, but it was only a little +giddiness."</p> + +<p>And there she broke off to listen to the sound of wheels which stopped +at the gate.</p> + +<p>It was Maurice; and at the sight of him Lucia felt strong again. She +rose and met him as he came towards her.</p> + +<p>"I have got a carriage," he said. "We had walked too far. Can you go to +it?"</p> + +<p>She could find nothing to say in answer. He made her lean on his arm, +and took her across the court and put her into the vehicle.</p> + +<p>"Would you rather go alone?" he asked her.</p> + +<p>"Oh! no, no," she cried nervously, and in a minute afterwards they were +on their way homewards.</p> + +<p>When they had started, she put her hand to her head confusedly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is not it strange?" she said half to herself. "I was sure we should +meet in Paris; only I never guessed it would be to-day. Across a grave, +that was right."</p> + +<p>Maurice shuddered at her tone; it sounded as if she were talking in her +sleep.</p> + +<p>"Dear Lucia," he said, "scold me, be angry with me. I should have told +you."</p> + +<p>She seemed to wake at the sound of his voice, and again that burning, +painful flush covered her face and neck.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Maurice," she cried, "it is you who should scold me. What must you +think? But, indeed, I am not so bad as I seem."</p> + +<p>"It is I who have been blind. I thought you had forgotten him."</p> + +<p>"Forgotten him? So soon? I thought he could not even have forgotten me!"</p> + +<p>Maurice clenched his hand. The very simplicity of her words stirred his +anger more deeply against his successful rival. For <i>her</i> he had still +nothing but the most pitiful tenderness.</p> + +<p>"Some men, Lucia, love themselves too well to have any great love for +another."</p> + +<p>"But he did care for me. I want to tell you. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> want you to see that I +am not quite so bad—he did care for me very much, and I sent him away."</p> + +<p>"You refused him?"</p> + +<p>"Not just that. At first, you know, I thought everything could be made +to come right in time—and then mamma told me all that terrible story +about her marriage, and about the constant fear she was in; and then—I +could not tell that to him—so I said he must go away. And he did; but +he told me perhaps in a year I should change my mind. And the year is +not over yet."</p> + +<p>Maurice was silent. He would not, if he could help it, say one word of +evil to Lucia about this man whom she still loved; and at first he could +not trust himself to speak.</p> + +<p>"How did you know?" she asked.</p> + +<p>And he understood instinctively what she meant, and told her shortly +when and where he had seen Percy, and what he had heard from the +solicitor.</p> + +<p>"It is the same lady, then," she said, "that I remember hearing of."</p> + +<p>"Yes, no doubt. I recollect some story being told of him and her, even +in Cacouna."</p> + +<p>Lucia sighed heavily. She had now got over the difficulty of speaking on +the subject to Maurice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> She knew so well that he was trustworthy, and +for the rest, was he not just the same as a brother?</p> + +<p>"He might have waited a year," she murmured. "You cannot imagine how +happy I have been lately, thinking I must see him soon!"</p> + +<p>"Cannot I?" Maurice cried desperately. "Listen to me, Lucia! I, too, +have been happy lately. I have been living on a false hope. I have been +deceived, and placed all my trust in a shadow. Don't you think we ought +to be able to feel for each other?"</p> + +<p>His vehemence and the bitterness of his tone terrified her. She laid her +little trembling hand on his appealingly.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>But he had controlled himself instantly. He took hold of her hand and +put it to his lips.</p> + +<p>"I mean nothing," he said, "at least nothing I can tell you about at +present. Are you feeling strong enough to meet Mrs. Costello? You must +not frighten her, you know, as you did me."</p> + +<p>"Did I frighten you? I am so sorry and ashamed—only, you know—Yes, I +can behave well now."</p> + +<p>He saw that she could. Her self-command had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> entirely returned now. Her +grieving would be silent or kept for solitude henceforward. They had +already passed the barrier, and in a minute would stop at the door.</p> + +<p>"I am not coming in with you," Maurice said, "I must go on now; but I +shall see you this evening."</p> + +<p>He saw her inside the house and then drove away, while she little +guessed how sore a heart he took with him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + + +<p>As Lucia went up the staircase, the slight stimulus of excitement which +Maurice's presence had supplied, died out, and she began to be conscious +of a horrible depression and sense of vacancy. She went up with a step +that grew more tired and languid at every movement, till she reached the +door where Claudine was having a little gossip with the concierge.</p> + +<p>She was glad even to be saved the trouble of ringing, and glided past +the two "like a ghaist," and came into her mother's presence with that +same weary gait and white face. It was not even until Mrs. Costello rose +in alarm and surprise with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> anxious questions on her lips that the poor +child became aware of the change in herself.</p> + +<p>"I am tired," she said. "I have such a headache, mamma," and she tried +to wake herself out of her bewilderment and look natural.</p> + +<p>"Where is Maurice?"</p> + +<p>"He is gone—he is coming back this evening, I think he said."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello guessed instantly that Maurice was the cause of Lucia's +disturbance.</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" she thought; "it could not help but be a surprise to her. +I wonder if all is going well?" But she dared not speak of that subject +just yet.</p> + +<p>"You must have walked much too far," she said aloud. "Go and lie down, +darling—I will come with you."</p> + +<p>Lucia obeyed. She was actually physically tired, as she said, and her +head did ache with a dull heavy pain. Mrs. Costello arranged the +pillows, drew warm coverings over her, and left her without one further +question; for she was completely persuaded of the truth of her own +surmise, and feared to endanger Maurice's hopes and her own favourite +plan by an injudicious word. She did not go far away,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> however, and +Lucia, still conscious of her nearness, dared not move or sigh. With her +face pressed close to the pillow, she could let the hot tears which +seemed to scald her eyes drop from under the half-closed lids; but after +a little while, the warmth and stillness and her fatigue began to have +their effect. The tears ceased to drop, the one hand which had grasped +the edge of the covering relaxed, and she dropped asleep.</p> + +<p>By-and-by Mrs. Costello came in softly, and stood looking at her. She +lay just like a child with her pale cheeks still wet, and the long black +lashes glistening. Her little hand, so slender and finely shaped, rested +lightly against the pillow; her soft regular breathing just broke the +complete stillness enough to give the aspect of sleep, instead of that +of death. She was fair enough, in her sweet girlish beauty and +innocence, to have been a poet's or an artist's inspiration. The +mother's eyes grew very dim as she looked at her child, but she never +guessed that there had been more than the stir of surprise in her heart +that day—that she was "sleeping for sorrow."</p> + +<p>It was twilight in the room when Lucia woke. She came slowly to the +recollection of the past, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> the consciousness of the present, and +without moving began to gather up her thoughts and understand what had +happened to her, and why she had slept. The door was ajar, and voices +could be faintly heard talking in the salon. She even distinguished her +mother's tones, and Lady Dighton's, but there were no others. It was a +relief to her. She thought she ought to get up and go to them, but if +Maurice had been there, or even Sir John, she felt that her courage +would have failed. She raised herself up, and pushed back her disordered +hair; with a hand pressed to each temple, she tried to realize how she +had awoke that very morning, hopeful and happy, and that she had had a +dreadful loss which was <i>her own</i>—only hers, and could meet with no +sympathy from others. But then she remembered that it had met with +sympathy already—not much in words, but in tone and look and +action—from the one unfailing friend of her whole life. Maurice +knew—Maurice did not contemn her—there was a little humiliation in the +thought, but more sweetness. She went over the whole scene in the +chapel, and for the first time there came into her mind a sense of the +inexpressible tenderness which had soothed her as she sat there half +stupefied.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dear Maurice!" she said to herself, and then as her recollection grew +more vivid, a sudden shame seized her—neck and arms and brow were +crimson in a moment, with the shock of the new idea—and she sprang up +and began to dress, in hopes to escape from it by motion.</p> + +<p>But before she was ready to leave the room her sorrow had come back, too +strong and bitter to leave place for other thoughts. The vivid hope of +Percy's faithful recollection enduring at least for a year, had come to +give her strength and courage in the very time when her youthful +energies had almost broken down under the weight of so many troubles; it +had been a kind of prop on which she leaned through her last partings +and anxieties, and which seemed to be the very foundation of her recent +content. To have it struck away from her suddenly, left her helpless and +confused; her own natural forces, or the support of others, might +presently supply its place, but for the moment she did not know where to +look to satisfy the terrible want.</p> + +<p>She went out, however, to face her small world, with what resolution she +could muster, and was not a little glad that the dim light would save +her looks from any close scrutiny.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lady Dighton had been paying a long visit to Mrs. Costello, and the two +perfectly understood each other. They both thought, also, that they +understood what had occurred that morning, and why Lucia had a headache. +Maurice had not made his appearance at his cousin's luncheon, as she +expected, but that was not wonderful. Lady Dighton, however, had said to +Mrs. Costello,</p> + +<p>"It is quite extraordinary to me how Lucia can have seen Maurice's +perfect devotion to her, and not perceived that it was more than +brotherly."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello did not feel bound to explain that Lucia's thoughts, as +far as they had ever been occupied at all with love, had been drawn away +in quite a different direction, so she contented herself with answering,</p> + +<p>"She is very childish in some things, and she has been all her life +accustomed to think of him as a brother. I knew he would have some +difficulty at first in persuading her to think otherwise."</p> + +<p>"He can't have failed?"</p> + +<p>"I hope not. She has not told me anything, and therefore I do not +suppose there is anything decisive to tell."</p> + +<p>After their conversation the two naturally looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> with interest for +Lucia's coming. They heard her stirring, and exchanged a few more words,</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we shall know now?"</p> + +<p>"At any rate, Maurice will enlighten us when he arrives."</p> + +<p>Lucia came in, gliding silently through the dim light. Her quiet +movement was unconscious—she would have chosen to appear more, rather +than less, animated than usual. Lady Dighton came forward to meet her.</p> + +<p>"So you walked too far this morning?" she said. "I think it was a little +too bad when you knew I was coming to see you to-day."</p> + +<p>"I did not think I should be so tired," Lucia answered, and the friendly +dusk hid her blush at her own disingenuousness.</p> + +<p>"Are you quite rested, my child?" Mrs. Costello asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma. My head aches a little still, but it will soon be better, I +dare say. I am ashamed of being so lazy."</p> + +<p>"Where is Maurice?" said Lady Dighton. "I expected to have found him +here, as he did not come in for lunch."</p> + +<p>"Has he not been with you then? He left me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> at the door, and said he +would come back this evening."</p> + +<p>"He has not been with me, certainly, though he promised to be. I thought +you were answerable for his absence."</p> + +<p>Lucia did not reply. Her heart beat fast, and the last words kept +ringing in her ears, "you were answerable for his absence." Was she +answerable for <i>any</i> doings of Maurice's? Had that morning's meeting, so +strange and sudden for her, disturbed him too? She could only be silent +and feel as if she had been accused, justly accused—but of what?</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, her silence, which was not that of indifference, seemed to +prove that the conjectures of the other two were right. They even +ventured to exchange glances of intelligence, but Mrs. Costello hastened +to fill up the break in the conversation.</p> + +<p>"Is it true," she inquired of her visitor, "that you talk of going home +next week?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; we only came for a fortnight at the longest; and as the affair +which brought us over seems to be happily progressing, there is no +reason for delay."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh! I am sorry," Lucia said impulsively. "Maurice goes with you, does +not he?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Cela dépend</i>—he is not obliged to go just then, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"But surely he ought. We must make him go."</p> + +<p>"And yet you would be sorry to lose him?"</p> + +<p>"Of course; only—"</p> + +<p>Another of those unexplained pauses! It was certainly a tantalizing +state of affairs, though, in fact, this last one did but mean, "only he +must be neglecting his affairs while he stops here." Lucia merely broke +off because she felt as if Lady Dighton might think the words an +impertinence.</p> + +<p>Soon after this they parted. Something was said about to-morrow, but +they finally left all arrangements to be made when Maurice should +appear, which it was supposed he would do at dinner to the Dightons, and +after it to the Costellos.</p> + +<p>Dinner had been long over in the little apartment in the Champs Elysées +when Maurice arrived there. The mother and daughter were sitting +together as usual, but in unusual silence—Lucia absorbed in thought, +Mrs. Costello watching and wondering, but still refraining from asking +questions. Maurice came in, looking pale and tired. Lucia got up, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +drew a chair for him near her mother. It was done with a double object; +she wanted to express her grateful affection, and she wanted to manage +so as to be herself out of his sight. He neither resisted her +manœuvre nor even saw it, but sat down wearily and began to reply to +her mother's questions.</p> + +<p>"I have been out of town. I had seen nothing of the country round Paris, +so I thought I would make an excursion."</p> + +<p>"An excursion all alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have been to St. Denis."</p> + +<p>"How did you go?"</p> + +<p>"By rail. I started to come back by an omnibus I saw out there, but I +did not much care about that mode of conveyance, so I got out and +walked."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Lady Dighton?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen no one. I am but just come back."</p> + +<p>"Maurice! Have you not dined, then?"</p> + +<p>"No. Never mind that. I will have some tea with you, please, by-and-by."</p> + +<p>But Lucia had received a glance from her mother, and was gone already to +try what Claudine's resources could produce. Mrs. Costello leaned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +forward, and laid her hand entreatingly on Maurice's arm,</p> + +<p>"Tell me what all this means?" she said.</p> + +<p>He tried to smile as he returned her look, but his eyes fell before the +earnestness of hers.</p> + +<p>"What what means?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Both you and Lucia know something I don't know," she answered. "I would +rather question you than her. Has she troubled you?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the way you think," he answered quickly. "I have partly changed +my plans. I shall be obliged to go back to England with my cousin. Don't +question Lucia, dear Mrs. Costello, let her be in peace for awhile."</p> + +<p>"In peace? But she has been in peace—happy as the day was long, +lately."</p> + +<p>"She is disturbed now—yes, it is my fault—and I will do penance for +it. You understand I do not give up my hopes—I only defer them."</p> + +<p>"But, Maurice, I <i>don't</i> understand. You are neither changeable, nor +likely to give Lucia any excuse for being foolish. Why should you go +away? She exclaimed how sorry she was when your cousin spoke of it."</p> + +<p>"Did she? But I am only a brother to her yet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> Don't try to win more +just now for me, lest she should give me less."</p> + +<p>"Well, of course, you know your own affairs best. But it is totally +incomprehensible to me."</p> + +<p>Maurice leaned his head upon his hands. He had had a miserable day, and +was feeling broken down and wretched. He spoke hopefully, but in his +heart he doubted whether it would not be better to give Lucia up at once +and altogether, only he had a strong suspicion that to give her up was +not a thing within the power of his will.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + + +<p>The evening passed in constraint and embarrassment. Mrs. Costello was +both puzzled and annoyed; Maurice, worn out in mind and body, and only +resolute to shield Lucia at his own expense; Lucia herself more +thoroughly uncomfortable than she had ever been in her life. She partly +understood Maurice's conduct, but doubted its motives. Sometimes she +thought he was influenced by his old dislike to Percy, and that even his +kindness to herself was mixed with disapproval or contempt. Sometimes a +suspicion of the truth, so faint and so unreasonable in her own eyes, +that she would not acknowledge it for a moment, flashed across her mind; +and this suspicion had its keenly humiliating<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> as well as its comforting +side. Besides the confusion of thoughts regarding these things, her mind +was burdened with an entirely new trouble—the sense that she was +concealing something from her mother; and this alone would have been +quite sufficient to disturb and distress her.</p> + +<p>So the three who had been so happy for the last few weeks sat together, +with all their content destroyed. Maurice thought bitterly of the old +Canadian days, which had been happy, too, and to which Percy's coming +had brought trouble.</p> + +<p>"It is the same thing over again," he said to himself; "but why such a +fellow as that should be allowed to do so much mischief is a problem <i>I</i> +can't solve. A tall idiot, who could not even care for her like a man!"</p> + +<p>But he would not allow himself any hard thoughts of Lucia. Perhaps he +had had some during his solitary day, but he had no real cause for them, +and he was too loyal to find any consolation in blaming her. And it +never would have come into his head to solace himself with the "having +known <i>me</i>." He valued his own honest, unaltering love at a reasonable +but not an excessive, price—himself at a very low one; and as Lucia +understood nothing of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> one, he did not wonder that she should slight +the other. And yet he was very miserable.</p> + +<p>Ten o'clock came at last, and he went away. After he was gone, Lucia +came to her mother's knee, and sat down, resting her aching head against +the arm of the chair. The old attitude, and the soft clinging touch, +completely thawed the slight displeasure in Mrs. Costello's heart.</p> + +<p>"Something is wrong, darling," she said. "If you do not want to tell me, +or think you ought not, remember I do not ask any questions; but you +have never had a secret from me."</p> + +<p>Lucia raised her mother's hand, and laid it on her forehead.</p> + +<p>"I ought to tell you, mamma," she said, "and I want to; but yet I don't +like."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"You will be so angry; no, not that, perhaps, but you will be shocked, +and yet I could not help it."</p> + +<p>"Help what? Do you know, Lucia, that you are really trying me now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, no! I am not worth caring so much about."</p> + +<p>"Have you and Maurice quarrelled?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Maurice! No, indeed. He is the best friend anybody ever had."</p> + +<p>"What is it, then?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma, do you remember what happened that first night at Cacouna?"</p> + +<p>"What first night?" Mrs. Costello pressed her hand upon her heart, which +began to beat painfully.</p> + +<p>"The night when you told me about my father."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I remember. Go on."</p> + +<p>"And the next day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Don't tell me that you still regret it."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, I have seen him again."</p> + +<p>"To-day?"</p> + +<p>"To-day. At the chapel of St. Ferdinand."</p> + +<p>"Did he know you? Did you speak to him?"</p> + +<p>"No. He did not see us. He was thinking nothing of me."</p> + +<p>"He ought not to think of you."</p> + +<p>"Nor I of him. He is married."</p> + +<p>"I knew that he either was, or was about to be."</p> + +<p>"You have heard of him, then, since?" Lucia raised her head sharply, and +looked at her mother.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mrs. Bellairs told me. They had heard it indirectly."</p> + +<p>"If you had only told me!" Her head sank lower than before.</p> + +<p>"My darling, I may have been mistaken. I have been so, many times; but I +wished to avoid mentioning him to you. I hoped you were forgetting."</p> + +<p>"Never; never for an hour," she said, half to herself. "No, mamma, for I +thought he had not forgotten."</p> + +<p>"But you sent him away yourself, my child. Remember, you would not even +let me see him. He could not have supposed that you meant your answer to +be anything but decisive."</p> + +<p>"I did mean it to be decisive; but he refused to take it so. He said, +'Perhaps in a year;' and it is not a year yet."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello listened in utter surprise. Lucia had much to say now. +Broken words and sentences, which showed, by degrees, how her mind, as +it recovered from the shock of other troubles, had gone back to dwell +upon the hope of Percy's return, and which explained more fully why she +had been so utterly blind to the schemes which were formed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> around her. +In one point only she failed. She did not, with all her own faith in it, +convey to her mother the impression of Percy's real earnestness in their +last interview. That he had really loved her, she still believed; but +she did not at all understand his shallow and easily-influenced +character. Mrs. Costello, on the other hand, was predisposed to take the +worst view, and to congratulate herself upon it, since it had helped to +leave Lucia free. But not believing that the poor girl had been the +object of a genuine, though transient passion, she for once was ready to +judge her hardly, and to accuse her of having been wilfully and +foolishly deceived.</p> + +<p>There was a bitter pang to the mother's heart in thinking this; but the +recollections of her own youth made the idea the less improbable to her, +and made her also the gentler, even in her injustice. She said not a +word of blame, but coaxed from her child the story of the meeting that +morning, that she might find out how much Maurice had seen or heard of +the truth. He understood <i>all</i>. Lucia said so frankly, though she +blushed at the confession; he had not needed to be told, and he had been +so good!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello could have groaned aloud. It needed an effort to keep +still, and not express the anger and impatience she felt. Maurice! +Maurice, who was worth fifty Percys! Maurice, who was devoted heart and +soul to this girl; who had been content to love her and wait for her, +through good and evil fortune, through change and absence and silence, +and, after all, she had no feeling for him but this heartless kind of +gratitude! Because at the very last, when he had thought her certainly +his own, he had endured, out of his great love, to see all his hopes +swept away, and her grieving for his rival; therefore he had just so +much claim upon her—"He was so good!"</p> + +<p>There was little more said. When once Lucia had told her story, and when +Mrs. Costello had discovered that Maurice understood all, neither of +them cared to talk on the subject. They went to bed with a cloud between +them, after all. Mrs. Costello kept her secret still, and pondered over +the question whether there might yet possibly be hope, since Maurice had +said he had only deferred his wishes, not relinquished them. Lucia was +aware that her trouble was still her own exclusively—not shared by any +one, even her mother. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> thought of Percy—she longed to know how long +he had thought of her—how, and why he had changed; and deep down in her +heart there was a little disturbed wondering at Maurice's +tenderness—that very tenderness which Mrs. Costello marvelled she did +not see.</p> + +<p>Maurice did not see his cousin that night. He went straight to his room, +and without thinking, locked the door, put out the candles except one, +and sat down in the gloom. His eyes and head ached—he felt weary and +utterly dispirited. He had rushed away that morning after leaving Lucia +at home, and found himself by the merest chance at St. Denis. He had got +out there because his fellow-passengers did so, though at the railway +station he had taken a ticket for a place much further on along the +line. He had looked about the little town, and seen, in a blind +blundering kind of way, the Cathedral. He had come out, with about +half-a-dozen more visitors, and seeing an omnibus starting for Paris, +had got into it, because it would take longer than the train—then after +a while had got out again, because he could not bear the slow motion and +perpetual babble of talk inside. But through all, and still more in his +solitary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> walk, he had been thinking—thinking perpetually; and, after +all, his thinking seemed yet to do. He would go back to England—that +was necessary and right, whatever else might be. He was wanted there, as +the pile of letters on his writing-table could testify. His father, too, +was solitary at Hunsdon—and his business in Paris was over. But the +Dightons would not go for some days, and he could not very well leave +them after they had come over for his sake. He would have to stay, +therefore, till they went; he would have to go on seeing the Costellos. +He tried to fancy he was sorry for this, but the attempt was a very poor +one. For a few days he would have to go on just as usual, and after that +he would go home, and do what? That was just the question.</p> + +<p>Ought he to go on hoping now? Had not he done all he could do? Was it +probable that a girl who had loved another man—and that man, +Percy—faithfully for a whole year on the mere possibility that he might +have remained faithful to her, and who had been throughout blind and +insensible to a regard deeper and purer than his had ever been, would be +able to transfer her heart whole and undivided as he must have it if he +had it at all? He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> dared not think it. "No, I have lost her at last!" he +said to himself, "and she is the one only woman in the world."</p> + +<p>Then he remembered, as if the reminder had been whispered in his ear, a +promise he had made. It was one day during Mr. Beresford's illness, when +his mind was a little clearer than usual. He had been trying feebly to +return to his old interests, and speaking in his weak broken tones, +about the future. He grew very tired after awhile, and Maurice persuaded +him to try to sleep, but there was yet another thing to be said.</p> + +<p>"You must marry soon, Maurice."</p> + +<p>"I am young, sir, there is no hurry."</p> + +<p>"No—only let it be soon."</p> + +<p>"I must first find the lady."</p> + +<p>"I thought I could have helped you—but it is too late." Maurice was +silent.</p> + +<p>"You <i>will</i> marry?" and the old man tried to raise himself in his +earnestness.</p> + +<p>"I hope to do so."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk of hoping—it is a duty, positive duty."</p> + +<p>"I mean to do so, then, grandfather."</p> + +<p>"Say 'I will'—promise me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If I both hope and intend it, sir, is that not enough?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. Promise."</p> + +<p>"Well then, I promise."</p> + +<p>The invalid was satisfied, and in a few minutes dropped asleep, and the +conversation almost passed from his grandson's mind.</p> + +<p>Now, however, he remembered it, as having bound him to something which +might be a lifelong misery. He was young still; as he had said, there +was time enough. But would any time make Lucia other than the first with +him?</p> + +<p>At last he got up and began to pace up and down the room, pushing first +one, and then another article of furniture aside to make room for his +walk.</p> + +<p>"There is at least no further reason why she should not know all" he +meditated. "Since my chance is gone, I cannot make matters worse by +speaking, and it will be a relief to tell her." He paused, dwelling on +the idea of his speaking and her listening—how differently from what he +had thought of before—and then went on—"To-morrow is as good as any +other time. To-morrow I will ask her to go out with me again—our last +walk together."</p> + +<p>He stopped again. At last he grew tired even of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> his own thoughts. He +lighted his candles again, and sat down to write letters. First to his +father, to say that he was coming home, to give him all the news, to +speak just as usual of the Costellos—even specially of Lucia; then to +his agent, and to other people, till the streets began to grow noisy and +the candles to burn dim in the dawn.</p> + +<p>Then he lay down, and fell into a deep, heavy sleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + + +<p>Maurice was scarcely awake next morning when a little note was brought +him from his cousin. It was only two or three lines written late the +night before, when she found that he did not come to their common +sitting-room. It said, "What has come to all the world? I go to Mrs. +Costello's, and find Lucia with a violent headache, and with her ideas +apparently much confused. I come home, and hear and see nothing of you +till night, when I am told you have gone to your room without stopping +for a moment to satisfy my curiosity. You will be at breakfast? I want +to see you. <span class="smcap">Louisa</span>."</p> + +<p>He twisted the dainty sheet of paper round his fingers, while he slowly +recalled the events of yester<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>day up to the point of his last decision, +to see Lucia to-day and tell her how grievously he had been +disappointed, and what she had been and still was to him. But then came +the natural consequence of this; he would still, afterwards, have to +meet both Lucia and her mother constantly for some days, and to behave +to them just as usual. It had seemed to him already that to do so would +be difficult; now he began to think it impossible. What to do then? To +keep silence now and always, or to speak and then go away home, where he +was needed? He must lose her sweet company—sweet to him still. He +<i>must</i> lose it, and what matter whether a few days sooner or later? It +was better to see her once again, and go.</p> + +<p>He dressed hastily and went to the breakfast-room. Sir John always took +an early stroll, and might not yet be back; was not, in fact, and Lady +Dighton was there alone. Maurice only saw so much before he began to +speak.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," he said, "that you expected me last night. I came in very +tired, and went straight to bed."</p> + +<p>"We waited dinner some time for you," Lady Dighton answered, "and you +know how punctual<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> Sir John is; but never mind now. You are looking ill, +Maurice."</p> + +<p>"I am quite well. I am afraid I must go back to England though. Should +you think me a barbarian if I started to-night and left you behind?"</p> + +<p>"Is something wrong? Your father is well?"</p> + +<p>"Quite well. But—I had letters last night. I am not certain that I must +go, only I thought you ought to know at once that I might have to do +so."</p> + +<p>"And Lucia? What will she say?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. You will not tell her, please?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I do not like carrying bad news. But you will see her no +doubt before I do."</p> + +<p>Maurice hesitated a moment, and then made boldly a request which had +been in his mind.</p> + +<p>"I want to see her. I should like to see her this morning if I could. +Will you help me?"</p> + +<p>"You don't generally require help for that. But I suppose the fact is, +you want to see her alone?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"I own I fancied you had settled your affairs yesterday; however, I +<i>can</i> help you, I think. Mrs. Costello half promised to go out with me +some morning. I will go and try to carry her off to-day."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are always kind, Louisa. What should I do without you?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! that is very pretty just now. By-and-by we shall see how much value +you have for me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you shall see."</p> + +<p>"But seriously, Maurice, you look wretched. One would say you had not +slept for a week."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I slept later than usual to-day. It is that, I +suppose, which makes me look dull. Here is Sir John. What time will your +drive be?"</p> + +<p>They fixed the time, and as soon as breakfast was finished, Maurice went +back to his room. He tore up the letters he had written last night, and +wrote others announcing his return home, took them to the post himself, +and then walked about in sheer inability to keep still, until it should +be time to go to Mrs. Costello's.</p> + +<p>He made a tolerably long round, choosing always the noisiest, busiest +streets, and came back to the hotel just as his cousin drove away. He +followed her carriage, and passed it as it stood at Mrs. Costello's +door, went on to the barrier, and coming back, found that it had +disappeared. Now, therefore, probably Mrs. Costello was gone, and now, +if ever, was his opportunity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Claudine opened the door for "ce beau monsieur" she was aghast. He +was positively "beau" no longer. He was pale and heavy-eyed. He actually +seemed to have grown thinner. Even his frank smile and word of +wonderfully English French had failed him. She went back to her kitchen +in consternation. "Ce pauvre monsieur! C'est affreux! Something is wrong +with him and mademoiselle. Ma foi, if <i>I</i> had such a lover!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello was gone, and Lucia sat alone, and very dreary. At +Maurice's entrance she rose quickly; but kept her eyes averted so that +his paleness did not strike her as it had done others. She coloured +vividly, with a mixture of shame, pride, and gladness, at his coming; +but she only said "Good morning," in a low undemonstrative tone, and +they both sat down in silence.</p> + +<p>She had some little piece of work in her hands, but she did not go on +with it, only kept twisting the thread round her fingers, and wondering +what he would say; whether now that they were alone, he would refer to +Percy; whether he would use his old privilege of blaming her when she +did wrong.</p> + +<p>But she was not struck down helplessly now as she had been at first +yesterday. She had begun to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> feel the stings of mortified pride, and was +ready to turn fiercely upon anybody who should give her provocation.</p> + +<p>Maurice spoke first.</p> + +<p>"I came to say good-bye," he said. "I am obliged to go home."</p> + +<p>His words sounded curt and dry, just because he had such difficulty in +making them steady at all, and she looked at him in her surprise, for +the first time.</p> + +<p>"Not to-day? Is anything the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing is the matter there. I told you I had business in Paris. Well, +it is finished."</p> + +<p>"And you are going to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I start this evening."</p> + +<p>"We shall miss you."</p> + +<p>She felt a strange constraint creeping over her. She could not even +express naturally her sorrow and disappointment at his going. She began +again to have the feeling of being guilty, and accused, and being eager +to defend herself without knowing how.</p> + +<p>"I shall not be far off, and you will know where to find me. When you +want me, for whatever reason, you have only to write and I will come."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But I always want you," she answered half pettishly. "You said you +would stay at least till Lady Dighton went away."</p> + +<p>Maurice got up and walked to the window.</p> + +<p>"I miscalculated," he said, coming back. "We all do sometimes, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>He stood in a favourite attitude, leaning with one arm on the +mantelpiece, and watching Lucia with a mixture of love and bitterness. +His last words seemed to her a taunt, and tears of anger filled her +eyes. She remained silent, and he had to speak again.</p> + +<p>"Do you care to know," he asked her, "what my business in Paris was?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish to tell me!"</p> + +<p>"Lucia! do not I wish to tell you everything? Could I have kept a secret +which was always in my thoughts from you, do you suppose?"</p> + +<p>Lucia half rose. "That is not generous," she said. "You have no right to +speak so. Yesterday you were kinder."</p> + +<p>"Yesterday I only thought of you. To-day I have had time to think a +little of myself."</p> + +<p>"No doubt you are right. Only you ought not to have come to Paris—at +least not to us. It would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> have been better if everything that belonged +to our old life had been lost together."</p> + +<p>"Which means that you are quite willing to lose me?"</p> + +<p>"Willing? No. But I can understand that it is better."</p> + +<p>"Can you? You talk of losses—listen to what I have lost. You know what +my life in Canada used to be—plenty of work, and not much money—but +still reasonable hope of prosperity by-and-by. I used to make plans +then, of having a home of my own, and I was not content that it should +be just like other people's. I thought it would be the brightest, +warmest, happiest home in the world. I <i>knew</i> it would be if I only got +what I wanted. A man can't have a home without a wife. I knew where my +wife was to be found if ever I had one at all; and she was so sweet and +good, and let me see so frankly that she liked and trusted me, that +I—it was all vanity, Lucia—I never much doubted that in time I should +make her love me."</p> + +<p>He stopped. Lucia was looking at him eagerly. Even yet she did not quite +understand. "Go on," she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There was my mistake," he continued. "I might have won her then +perhaps. But there came a visitor to the neighbourhood. He was +handsome—at least women said so—and could make himself agreeable. He +knew all about what people call the world—he had plenty of talk about +all sorts of small topics. He was a very fine gentleman in fact, and you +know what I was. Well, naturally enough, he wanted amusement. He looked +about for it, I suppose, and was attracted by what had attracted +me—no—I do not believe even that, for I loved her goodness, and he +must have been caught by her beauty. At any rate, I had to go away and +leave him near her; and I heard after a while that he was gone. That was +late in autumn. Very early this year, I heard of his marriage; and I +thought she had been unharmed.</p> + +<p>"My grandfather died, and I was rich enough to make that home I dreamed +of, fit for its mistress. I went to find her. I found her, as I thought, +lovelier and sweeter than ever. She seemed to feel more than ever that I +was of some use and value to her—she made me believe that, next to her +mother, she loved me best in the world. I delayed asking her to be my +wife, only because our days<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> were so happy, that I feared to disturb +them—but I thought she was certainly mine.</p> + +<p>"Then, all at once, this man, this Percy, who had left her in her +trouble—who was married—made his appearance, and I knew that she had +loved him all the while—that she had never cared for me!"</p> + +<p>Long ago, Lucia had clasped her hands before her face. She sat trembling +and cowering before this accuser. Involuntarily she said in her heart, +"This is the true love. I have been blind—blind!"—but her words were +frozen up—she bent forward as if under a blow—but made no sound.</p> + +<p>Maurice himself remained silent for a few minutes. He had spoken under a +strong impulse of excitement, he hardly knew how. He, too, leaned his +head upon his hand, but from under it he still watched the trembling +girlish figure, which was the dearest thing in the world to him. +Presently he saw a tear steal out from between her small fingers and +fall glittering upon the black dress she wore. He moved uneasily—he had +been surely very harsh. Another tear fell—tear of bitter humiliation, +good for her to shed—then a third. He could not endure it. She might +not love him, but that was no reason why he should turn her sisterly +affection into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> hate. So he went to her, and laid his hand softly on one +of hers, trying to draw it away. She let him do so after a moment, but +her face remained just as much hidden.</p> + +<p>"Lucia!" he said, full of distress, "Lucia! speak to me."</p> + +<p>She could not—all her efforts were needed to keep down the painful +swelling in her throat. She was fighting for power to say humbly, "Try +to forgive me," but he did not give her time.</p> + +<p>"If you would only say good-bye—only one word;" and he almost knelt +beside her, raising her cold hand half-unconsciously to his lips.</p> + +<p>She drew it away suddenly. His tenderness was the worst reproach of all. +Her sobs burst out without control. She rose. "No; rather forgive me," +she tried to say, but her voice was choked and hardly audible; and she +fled from the room, hurrying into her own, and fell down on the floor at +the bedside.</p> + +<p>Maurice waited for awhile, thinking she might come back. He sat down +near where her chair stood, and leaning both elbows on the table, tried +to calm himself after the terrible excitement. Lucia's tears and her +silence had utterly disarmed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> him—he called himself a brute for having +distressed her. But as time went on, and she did not return, he +remembered that he could not just then meet Mrs. Costello, and he got up +and began to walk about the room uneasily. Still, time went on, and +there was no sign of Lucia. He wished to knock at her door, but dared +not. He must go then without one good-bye!</p> + +<p>"That is my own fault at any rate," he said, and went away softly, +without even seeing Claudine.</p> + +<p>But, as it happened, Mrs. Costello was long coming back. Lady Dighton +had confided to her Maurice's wish to see Lucia alone, and the two +ladies, very happy and confidential over their schemes, both supposing +that nothing but good could come of a long talk between the young +people—prolonged their absence till more than two hours after Maurice +had returned to the hotel. So that his preparations for leaving Paris +were almost completed by the time that Lucia, hearing her mother's +entrance, came out of the solitude where she had hidden her tears and +her repentance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + + +<p>Lucia tried to hide the traces of her tears, but the attempt was not +particularly successful. Mrs. Costello saw at once that something was +wrong; she asked whether Maurice had been there, and was told briefly +yes, but she delayed any other questions for two reasons. One was, that +merely saying that "Yes" had brought a quiver over Lucia's face, and the +other, that she herself was tired and had got into a habit of dreading +any kind of excitement. She felt a presentiment that there was nothing +pleasant to hear, and at the same time was quite sure that whatever +there was, her daughter would be unable to keep long from her.</p> + +<p>She allowed Lucia to carry away her bonnet and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> shawl, and arrange her +comfortably on the sofa for a rest. Then she began to describe her +drive, and the shops at which Lady Dighton had been making various +purchases. Lucia listened, and tried to be interested, and to lose the +sense of shame and mortification mixed with real compunction, which was +making her wretched. But her heart ached, and besides, she had cried, +sitting all alone on her bedroom floor, till she was exhausted and half +blind. All the while her mother talked, she kept thinking of +Maurice—she neither called him "Poor Maurice," in her thoughts, nor +"Dear Maurice"—but only "Maurice, Maurice," over and over again—her +friend who was gone from her, whom she had justly lost.</p> + +<p>But when she was growing more and more absorbed in her own regrets, and +her mother's voice was beginning to sound to her like one in a dream, +there came a sudden sharp ring at the door-bell. Could it be Maurice? +She grew red as fire while she listened—but the door opened and shut, +and there were no steps but Claudine's in the hall.</p> + +<p>The maid came in. "A letter for madame, and a packet for +mademoiselle,"—both directed by Maurice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia took hers to the window. She scarcely dared to open it, but she +feared to appear to hesitate. Slowly she broke the seals, and found a +tiny morocco case and a note. She hardly looked at the case, the note +would be Maurice's farewell, and she did not know whether it would bring +reproach or forgiveness with it. It was not long—even with her dazzled +eyes, she was not more than a minute reading it.</p> + + +<blockquote><p style="margin-top: 2em;">"My dear old playfellow and pupil"—it began—"I cannot leave Paris +without saying 'Good-bye,' and asking you to forgive me, not for what I +said this morning, but for the way in which I said it. If you cannot +love me (and I understand now that you cannot) it is not your fault; and +I ought to have remembered that, even when it seemed hardest. I cannot +stay here now; but you will recollect that if ever you <i>want</i> me—as a +friend or brother, you know—a single line will be enough to bring me to +your help. Finally, I beg of you, for the sake of old times, to wear the +ring I send. I bought it for you—you ought to have no scruple in +accepting a keepsake from your oldest friend,</p> + +<p class='author'><span class="smcap">Maurice Leigh</span>."</p></blockquote> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the little box was the ring bought so long ago in Liverpool. It +flashed, as if with the light of living eyes, as Lucia opened the lid. +She regarded it for a moment almost with fear, then took it out and +placed it on her finger—the third finger of her left hand. It fitted +perfectly, and seemed to her like the embodiment of a watchful guardian +who would keep her from wrong and from evil. She fancied this, though +just then two or three drops fell heavily from her eyes, and one rested +for a moment on the very diamonds themselves.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello's note was longer than Lucia's, and she read it twice +over, before she was sure that she comprehended it. Then she called +sharply "Lucia!"</p> + +<p>"Come here," she said, as the girl turned her face reluctantly; and +there was nothing to do but to obey. Lucia came to the side of the sofa, +where her mother had raised herself up against the cushions, but she +trembled so, that to steady herself she dropped down on her knees on a +footstool. Her right arm rested on the table, but the other hand, where +the ring was, lay hidden in the folds of her dress.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What does this mean, Lucia?" Mrs. Costello asked in a tone which she +had never in her life used to her daughter before. "Are you out of your +senses?"</p> + +<p>Lucia was silent. She could almost have said yes.</p> + +<p>"You know of course that Maurice is gone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes I know it," she answered just audibly.</p> + +<p>"Gone, and not likely to return?"</p> + +<p>"He tells me so."</p> + +<p>"What have you said to him?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"Nothing! That is absurd. Why did he wish to see you alone to-day?"</p> + +<p>"To tell <i>me</i> something," Lucia said with a little flash of opposition +awakened by her mother's anger.</p> + +<p>"Yes—I thought so. To tell you something which, to any girl in the +world who was not inconceivably blind or inconceivably vain, would have +been the best news she ever heard in her life. And you said <i>nothing</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma, it is over. I can't help it."</p> + +<p>"So he says—he, who is not much in the habit of talking nonsense, says +this to me. Just listen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> 'We have both made the mistake of reasoning +about a thing with which reason has nothing to do. I see the error now +too late for myself, but not, I hope, too late to leave her in peace. +Pray do not speak to her about it at all.' But it is my duty to speak."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, Maurice is right. It is too late."</p> + +<p>"It is not too late for him to get some little justice; and it is not +too late for you to know what you have lost."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I do know," she cried out. "But even if there had been no other +reason, how could I have been different? He never told me till to-day." +And she clasped her two hands together on the edge of the table and hid +her face on them.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello leaned a little more forward, and touched her daughter's +arm.</p> + +<p>"I must speak to you about this, Lucia," she said. "I do not want to be +harsh, but you ought to know what you have done. And, good heavens! for +what? A stranger, a mere coxcomb comes in your way, and you listen to +his fine words, and straight begin to be able to see nothing but him, +though the most faithful, generous heart a girl ever had offered to her +is in your very hand! <i>I</i> was bad enough<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>—but I had no such love as +Maurice's to leave behind me."</p> + +<p>Again Lucia moved, without speaking. As she did so, the ring on her hand +flashed.</p> + +<p>"What is that on your finger?" Mrs. Costello asked.</p> + +<p>"Maurice's ring. <i>He</i> was not so hard on me."</p> + +<p>"Hard?" Mrs. Costello was pressing her hand more and more tightly to her +side. "Child, it is you that have been hard with your unconscious ways."</p> + +<p>But Lucia had found power to speak at last.</p> + +<p>"After all," she said obstinately, "I neither see why I should be +supposed to have done wrong, nor why anybody else should be spoken of +so. It is no harm, and no shame," she went on, raising her head, and +showing her burning cheeks, "for a girl to like somebody who cares very +much for her; and I think she would be a poor creature if she did not go +on caring for him as long as she believed he was true to her."</p> + +<p>The little spark of pride died out with the last words, and there was a +faint quiver in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Maurice would say so himself," she ended, triumphantly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course he would. But I don't see that Maurice would be a fair judge +of the case. The question is, what does a girl deserve who has to choose +between Maurice and Percy, and chooses Percy?"</p> + +<p>Lucia recoiled. She could hardly yet bear to hear the name she had been +dreaming over so long spoken in so harsh a way, and still less to hear +it coupled in this way with Maurice's.</p> + +<p>"Maurice will soon find somebody else," she said. "He is not a poor man, +mamma, that he should mind so much."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello half rose from the sofa. Pain and anger together +overpowered her. She stood up for a moment, trying to speak, and then +suddenly fell back, fainting.</p> + +<p>Lucia sprang from her knees. Was her mother dead? It was possible, she +knew. Had they parted for ever in anger? But the idea, from its very +horror, did not affect her as a lighter fear might have done. She +brought remedies, and called Claudine to help her, in a kind of calm. +They tried all they could think of, and at last there came some feeble +return of life. But the agitation and fatigue of the day had been too +much for such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> strength as hers to rally from. One fainting fit +succeeded another, with scarcely a moment's interval.</p> + +<p>All evening it was the same. A doctor came, and stayed till the attacks +ceased; but when he went away, his patient lay, white and almost +unconscious even of Lucia's presence. It was terrible sitting there by +the bedside, and watching for every slight movement—for the hope of a +word or a smile. It was consolation unspeakable when, late at night, +Mrs. Costello opened her eyes, free from the bewildered look of +suffering, and, seeing her child's pale face beside her, put out her +hand, and said softly, "My poor Lucia!"</p> + +<p>After that she dropped asleep, and Lucia watched till early morning. It +was the first of such watches she had ever kept, and the awful stillness +made her tremble. Often she got up from her seat to see if her mother's +breathing still really went on; it seemed difficult to believe that +there was any stir whatever of life in the room. In those long hours, +too, she had time to revert to the doings of the past day—to remember +both Maurice's words and her mother's, and to separate, to some degree, +the truth from all exaggeration. Her mind seemed to go back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> also, with +singular clearness, to the time of Percy's coming to Cacouna, and even +earlier. She began to comprehend the significance of trifles, which had +seemed insignificant at the time, and to believe in the truth of what +Maurice had told her, that even then he was building all his hopes on +the possibility of her loving him. She wondered at herself now, as +others had wondered at her; but she still justified herself: "He was my +brother—my dearest friend. <i>He</i>," and this time she did not mean +Maurice, "was the first person who ever put any other ideas into my +head. And I have lost them both." But already the true love had so far +gained its rights, that it was Maurice, far more than Percy, of whose +loss she thought. Once that night, when she had sat quite without moving +for a long time, and when her meditations had grown more and more +dreary, she suddenly raised her hand, and her ring flashed out in the +gloom. By some instinct she put it to her lips; it seemed to her a +symbol of regard and protecting care, which comforted her strangely.</p> + +<p>When the night was past, and Claudine came early in the morning to take +Lucia's place, Mrs. Costello still slept; and the poor child, quite worn +out—pale and shivering in the cold dawn—was glad to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> creep away to +bed, and to her heavy but troubled slumber.</p> + +<p>All that day the house was kept silent and shut up. Mrs. Costello had +been much tried, the doctor thought, and needed a complete calm in which +to recover herself. With her old habit of self-command she understood +this, and remained still, almost without speaking, till some degree of +strength should return. Lucia tended her with the most anxious care, and +kept her troubled thoughts wholly to herself.</p> + +<p>About two o'clock Lady Dighton came. Hearing that Mrs. Costello was ill, +she begged to see Lucia, who came to her, looking weary and worn, but +longing to hear of Maurice.</p> + +<p>It seemed, however, as if she were not to be gratified. Lady Dighton was +full of concern and kind offers of assistance, but she said nothing of +her cousin until just as she went away. Then she did say, "You know that +Maurice left us yesterday evening? I miss him dreadfully; but I dare say +he thinks much more of whether other people miss him."</p> + +<p>She went, and they were alone again. So alone, as they had never been +while Maurice was in Paris,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> when he might come in at any moment and +bring a cheerful breath from the outer world into their narrow and +feminine life,—as he would never come again! 'Oh,' Lucia thought, 'why +could not he be our friend always—just our own Maurice as he used to +be—and not have these miserable fancies? We might have been so happy!'</p> + +<p>Towards night Mrs. Costello had greatly revived. She was able to sit up +a little, and to talk much as usual. She did not allude at all to her +last conversation with her daughter, and Lucia herself dared not renew +so exciting a subject. But all anger seemed to have entirely passed away +from between them. They were completely restored to their old natural +confidence and tenderness; and that was a comfort which Lucia's terror +of last night made exquisitely sweet to her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + + +<p>Two or three days passed before its former tranquillity was restored to +the apartment in the Champs Elysées. Its "<i>former</i> tranquillity," +indeed, did not seem to come back at all. There were new elements of +discomfort and disturbance at work, even more than in the days before +Maurice came, and when Mrs. Costello both feared and hoped for his +coming. He was never mentioned now, except during Lady Dighton's daily +visit. She, much mystified, and not sure whether Lucia was to be pitied +or blamed, was too kind-hearted not to sympathize with her anxiety for +her mother, and she therefore came constantly—first to inquire for, and +then to sit with Mrs. Costello, insisting that Lucia<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> should take that +opportunity of going out in her carriage.</p> + +<p>These drives gave the poor child not only fresh air, but also a short +interval each day in which she could be natural, and permit herself the +indulgence of the depression which had taken possession of her. She felt +certain that her mother, though she treated her with her usual +tenderness, still felt surprised and disappointed by her conduct. +Maurice also, who had been always so patient, so indulgent, had gone +away in trouble through her; he had reproached her, perhaps justly, and +had given up for ever their old intimacy. She was growing more and more +miserable. If ever, for a moment, she forgot her burden, some little +incident was sure to occur which brought naturally to her lips the +words, 'I wish Maurice were here;' and she would turn sick with the +thought, 'He never will be here again, and it is my fault.'</p> + +<p>So the days went on till the Dightons left Paris. They did so without +any clear understanding having reached Lady Dighton's mind of the state +of affairs between Maurice and Lucia. All she actually knew was that +Maurice had been obliged to go home unexpectedly, and that ever since he +went Lucia<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> had looked like a ghost. And as this conjunction of +circumstances did not appear unfavourable to her cousin's wishes, and as +she had no hint of those wishes having been given up, she was quite +disposed to continue to regard Lucia as the future mistress of Hunsdon.</p> + +<p>However, she was not sorry to leave Paris. Her visit there, with regard +to its principal object, had been rather unsatisfactory; at all events +it had had no visible results, and she liked results. She wanted to go +home and see how Maurice reigned at Hunsdon, and tell her particular +friends about the beautiful girl she hoped some day to have the pleasure +of patronizing.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello had regained nearly her usual health. One day, shortly +after the Dightons left, she asked Lucia to bring her desk, saying that +she must write to Mr. Wynter, and that it was time they should make some +different arrangement, since, as they had long ago agreed, Paris was too +expensive for them to stay there all the year.</p> + +<p>Lucia remembered what Maurice had said to her about her mother returning +to England, but the consciousness of what had really been in his mind at +the moment stopped her just as she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> about to speak. She brought the +desk, and said only,</p> + +<p>"Have you thought of any place, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"I have thought of two or three, but none please me," Mrs. Costello +answered. "We want a cheap place—one within easy reach of England, and +one not too much visited by tourists. It is not very easy to find a +place with all the requisites."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. But you are not able to travel yet."</p> + +<p>"Yes I am. Indeed, it is necessary we should go soon, if not +immediately."</p> + +<p>Lucia sighed. She would be sorry to leave Paris. Meantime her mother had +opened the desk, but before beginning to write she took out a small +packet of letters, and handed them to Lucia. "I will give these to you," +she said, "for you have the greatest concern with them, though they were +not meant for your eyes."</p> + +<p>Lucia looked at the packet and recognized Maurice's hand.</p> + +<p>"Ought I to read them, then?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Nay, I desire that you will read them carefully. Yes, +Lucia," she went on in a softer tone, "I wish you to know all that has +been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> hidden from you. Take those notes and keep them. When you are an +old woman you may be glad to remember that they were ever written."</p> + +<p>Lucia could not answer. She carried the packet away to her own chair, +and sitting down, opened it and began to read. It was only Maurice's +notes, written to Mrs. Costello from England, and they were many of them +very hasty, impetuous, and not particularly well-expressed missives. But +if they had been eloquence itself, they could not have stirred the +reader's heart as they did. It was the simple bare fact of a great +love—so much greater than she could ever have deserved, and yet passed +by, disregarded, unperceived in her arrogant ignorance; this was what +she seemed to see in them, and it wrung her heart with vain repentance +and regret. And, as she bent over them there suddenly arose in her mind +a doubt—a question which seemed to have very little to do with those +letters, yet which they certainly helped to raise—had she ever loved +Percy? Lucia was romantic. Like other romantic girls, she would formerly +have said—indeed, she had said to herself many times—"I shall love him +all my life—even if he forgets me I shall still love him." And yet now +she was conscious—dimly, unwillingly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> conscious, that she thought very +little of him, and that even that little was not at all in the strain +she would have felt to be proper in a deserted heroine of fiction. She +was not the least likely to die of a broken heart for him; she was much +more inclined to die for grief and shame at what had befallen Maurice. +So that question, which was in itself a mortifying one, rose +rebelliously in her mind—had she ever loved Percy? or had she been +wasting her thoughts on a mere lay-figure, dressed up by her own fancy +in attributes not at all belonging to it? Poor child! had she known how +many women—and perhaps men also—do the very same, the idea might not +have seemed quite so horrible to her.</p> + +<p>Horrible or not, she put it aside and went back to the letters. In the +earlier ones there were many allusions which seemed almost to belong to +a former existence, so utterly had her life changed since they were +written. The bright days of last summer, before the first cloud came +over her fortunes, seemed to return almost too vividly to her memory; +she would have bargained away a year of her life to be able to regain +the simple happiness of that time. It could never be done; she had +suffered, and had done some good and much evil; the past was ended<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> and +put away for ever; she could not, for all she might give, again set +herself</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">"To the same key</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of the remembered harmony."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>She closed the last letter of the little pile and put them carefully +away. Already they seemed to her one of her most valuable possessions.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello had finished writing to her cousin. She was busy with +Murray and a map of France; and when Lucia came back she called her.</p> + +<p>"Come here, I have half decided."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma. Where is it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, I cannot be sure. I must make some inquiries; but I think +this will do—Bourg-Cailloux."</p> + +<p>Lucia looked where her mother's finger pointed on the map.</p> + +<p>"Is it a seaport?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, with steamers sailing direct to England."</p> + +<p>"But in that case, will it not be in the way of tourists?"</p> + +<p>"I suspect not; I have looked what Murray says, and it is so little that +it is pretty evident it is not much visited by the people who follow his +guidance. Besides, I do not see what attraction the place can have +except just the sea. It is an old fortified<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> town, with a market and +considerable maritime trade—sends supplies of various kinds to London, +and has handsome docks; from all which I conclude that business, and not +pleasure, is the thing which takes people there."</p> + +<p>"Could you bear a noisy, busy town?"</p> + +<p>"After this I do not think we need fear the noise of any provincial +town. In a very quiet place we should not have the direct communication +with England, which is an object with me."</p> + +<p>"But, mamma, what need——?"</p> + +<p>"Every need, for your sake as well as my own. We <i>must</i> be where, in +case of emergency, you could quickly have help from England."</p> + +<p>Lucia trembled at her mother's words. She dared not disregard them after +what had lately happened, but she could not discuss this aspect of the +question.</p> + +<p>"I must find out about the journey," Mrs. Costello went on. "If it is +not a very fatiguing one I believe I shall decide at once. We shall both +be the better, in any case, for a little sea air."</p> + +<p>"I shall like it at all events. I have never seen the sea except during +our voyage."</p> + +<p>"No. I used to be very fond of it. I believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> now, if I could get out to +sit on the beach I should grow much stronger."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, you must. What is the name of the place? Here it +is—Bourg-Cailloux. When do you think we can go?"</p> + +<p>"Not before next week, certainly. Do not make up your mind to that +place, for perhaps it may not suit us yet to go there."</p> + +<p>Lucia knelt down, and put her arms softly round her mother's waist.</p> + +<p>"Dear mother," she said slowly, "I wish you would go back to England."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello started. "To England?" she said, "you know quite well that +it is impossible."</p> + +<p>"You would be glad to go, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Child, you do not know <i>how</i> glad I should be. To die and be buried +among my own people!"</p> + +<p>"To go and live among them rather, mamma; Maurice put it into my head +that you might."</p> + +<p>She spoke the last sentence timidly; after they had both so avoided +Maurice's name, she half dreaded its effect on her mother. But Mrs. +Costello only shook her head sadly.</p> + +<p>"Maurice thought of a different return from any that would be possible +now. Possibly, if all had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> been as we wished—both he and I—I might +have gone over to a part of England so far from the place I left. Say no +more of it, dear," she added quickly, "let us make the best of what we +have, and try to forget what we have not."</p> + +<p>She bent down and kissed her daughter as she spoke. But still these last +few sentences had furnished a little fresh bitterness for Lucia's +thoughts. Her mother's exile might have ended but for her.</p> + +<p>Bourg-Cailloux was next day fully decided on for their new residence. +From the time of the decision Lucia began to be very busy in preparation +for their journey, and for leaving the place where she had been too +happy, and too miserable, not to have become attached to it. Claudine, +too, had to be left behind with some regret, but they hoped to see Paris +again the following year if all should be well. Early one morning they +started off once again, a somewhat forlorn pair of travellers, and at +three o'clock on a bright afternoon rattled over the rough pavements, on +their way to the Hôtel des Bains at Bourg-Cailloux.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + + +<p>Summer came very early that year, and the narrow streets of +Bourg-Cailloux were full of the glare and heat of the season. The +pavements of white stones, always rough and painful to the feet, were +burning hot in the middle of the day, and outside the walls, especially +towards the sea, the light coloured, sandy roads were more scorching +still. The Hôtel des Bains, just waking up after its winter repose, had +proved but a comfortless dwelling. After two or three days, therefore, +Mrs. Costello had left it, and she and Lucia were now settled in a +lodging in the city itself. Their windows looked out on the "Place," +where a brave sea-captain, the hero of Bourg-Cailloux, stood in effigy, +and still seemed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> keep watch over the place he had once defended, and +where, twice a week, the market-women came in their long black cloaks +and dazzling caps, and brought heaps of fragrant flowers and early +fruit. In the very early morning, the shadow of a quaint old tower fell +transversely upon the pavement of the square, and reached almost to +their door; and in the evening Lucia grew fond of watching for the fire +which was nightly lighted on the same tower that it might be a guide to +sailors far out at sea. The town was quiet and dull—there was no +theatre, no concerts, at present even no balls—the only public +amusement of the population seemed to be listening in the still evenings +to the band which played in front of the guard-house in the Place. There +they came in throngs, and promenaded slowly over the sharp-edged stones, +with a keen and visible enjoyment of the fresh air, the music, and each +other's company, which was in itself a pleasant thing to see.</p> + +<p>The journey, the discomforts of the first few days, and the second +moving, had tried Mrs. Costello extremely. She spent most of her time on +the sofa now, and had as yet only been able once or twice to go down and +sit for a while on the sunny beach,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> where children were playing and +building sand castles, and where the sea breeze was sweet and reviving.</p> + +<p>There was a small colony of English people settled in the town, mostly +people with small incomes and many children, or widows of poor +gentlemen; but there was also a large floating population of English +sailors, and for their benefit an English consul and chaplain, who +supplied a temporal and spiritual leader to the community. But the +mother and daughter kept much apart from their country people, who were +inclined to be sociable and friendly towards them. Mrs. Costello's +illness, and Lucia's preoccupation, made them receive with indifference +the visits of those who, after seeing them at the little English church, +and by the sea, thought it "only neighbourly to call."</p> + +<p>Their home arrangements were different to those they had made in Paris. +Here they were really lodgers, and their landlady, Madame Everaert, +waited on them. She was a fat, good natured, half Dutch widow, who took +from the first a lively interest in the invalid mother, and in the +daughter who would have been so handsome if she had been stouter and +more rosy; and in a very little while she found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> that her new lodgers +had one quality, which above all others gave them a claim on her good +will, they were excellent listeners. Almost every evening in the +twilight she would come herself to their sitting-room, with the lamp, or +with some other errand for an excuse, and would stay chattering in her +droll Flemish French for at least half an hour. This came to be one of +the features of the day. Another was a daily walk, which Lucia had most +frequently to take alone, but which always gave her either from the +shore, or from the ramparts, a long sorrowful look over the sea towards +England—towards Canada perhaps—or instead of either, to some far-away +fairy country where there were no mistakes and no misunderstandings.</p> + +<p>Between these two—between morning and evening—time was almost a blank. +Lucia had completely given up her habits of study. She did not even read +novels, except aloud; and when she was not in some way occupied in +caring for her mother, she sat hour after hour by the window, with a +piece of crochet, which seemed a second Penelope's web, for it never was +visibly larger one day than it had been the day before. Mrs. Costello +gradually grew anxious as she perceived how dull and inanimate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> her +daughter remained. She would almost have been glad of an excuse for +giving her a gentle scolding, but Lucia's entire submission and +sweetness of temper made it impossible. There seemed nothing to be done, +but to try to force her into cheerful occupation, and to hope that time +and her own good sense would do the rest. Hitherto they had had no +piano; they got one, and for a day or two Lucia made a languid pretence +of practising. But one day she was turning over her music, among which +were a number of quaint old English songs and madrigals, which she and +Maurice had jointly owned long ago at Cacouna, when she came upon one +the words of which she had been used to laugh at, much to the annoyance +of her fellow-singers. She had a half remembrance of them, and turned +the pages to look if they were really so absurd. The music she knew +well, and how the voices blended in the quaint pathetic harmony.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"Out alas! my faith is ever true,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Yet will she never rue,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Nor grant me any grace.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I sit and sigh, I weep, I faint, I die,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While she alone refuseth sympathy."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>She shut the music up, and would have said, if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> anybody had asked her, +that she had no patience with such foolish laments, even in poetry; but, +nevertheless, the verse stayed in her memory, haunted her fancy +perpetually, and seemed like a living voice in her ears—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Out alas! my faith is ever true."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>She cared no more for singing, for every song she liked was associated +with Maurice, and each one seemed now to have the same burden; and when +she played, it was no longer gay airs, or even the wonderful 'Morceaux +de Salon,' of incredible noise and difficulty, which had been required +of her as musical exhibitions, but always some melancholy andante or +reverie which seemed to come to her fingers without choice or intention.</p> + +<p>One day when she had gone for her solitary walk, and Mrs. Costello all +alone was lying on the sofa, trying to read, but really considering with +some uneasiness the condition of their affairs, Madame Everaert knocked +at the door.</p> + +<p>She brought with her a fresh bunch of flowers just bought in the market, +but she was as usual overflowing with talk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is extremely hot," she said, fanning herself with her pocket +handkerchief, "and I met mademoiselle going out. It is excessively hot."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello looked uneasy.</p> + +<p>"Do you think it is too hot to be out?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No. Perhaps not. Certainly, mademoiselle has gone to the ramparts, and +the walk there is not nearly so hot and fatiguing as down to the beach. +Mademoiselle is very fond of the sea."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she enjoys it greatly. It is new to her."</p> + +<p>"One day, not long ago, I was coming along the top of the +ramparts,—madame has not been there?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"There is a broad space on the top, and it is covered with soft green +turf quite pleasant to sit down upon. Very few people pass, and you can +see a long way out to sea. Well, one day I came along there, because +upon the grass it was pleasanter walking than on the stones in the +street, and I saw Mademoiselle Lucia who was sitting quite quiet, +looking out far away. I came very near, but she never saw me. I thought +I would speak to her just to say how beautiful the day was, and the air +so sweet, when I saw just in time madame, that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> was crying. Great +big tears were falling down on her hands, and she never seemed to feel +them even. Mon Dieu, madame! I could hardly keep from crying myself, she +looked so sad; but I went by softly, and she never saw me. Mademoiselle +regrets England very much."</p> + +<p>"She has never been in England. She was born in Canada, and that, you +know, is very far away."</p> + +<p>"In Canada! Is it possible? Does madame come from Canada?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And it is in Canada our good father Paul has suffered so much! Oh, the +terrible country!"</p> + +<p>"Why should it be terrible? I have seen Father Paul, and he does not +look as if he had suffered much."</p> + +<p>"Not now, Dieu merci. But long ago. Madame, he went to convert the +savages—the Indians."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello started. Father Paul was a Jesuit priest—an old venerable +man—old enough, as it flashed into her mind, to have been one of the +Moose Island missionaries. Yet such an idea was improbable—there had no +doubt been many other Jesuit missions besides the one where Christian +had been trained.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you know where it was that he went?" she asked, after a moment's +pause.</p> + +<p>"It was in Canada," Madame Everaert repeated, "and he lived among the +savages; if madame is from Canada, she would know where the savages +live."</p> + +<p>"There are very few savages now," Mrs. Costello answered with a smile. +"I know where there used to be some—possibly that was the very place."</p> + +<p>"No doubt. I shall tell the good father that madame knows it."</p> + +<p>"Stay. Don't be quite sure that it is the place. Canada is a very large +country."</p> + +<p>"Still it is so singular that madame should come from there. Father Paul +will be delighted."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello thought a minute. She was greatly tempted to wish to see +this priest who might have known her husband. She need not betray +herself to him. For the rest, she had noticed him often, and thought +what a good, pleasant face he had—a little too round and rosy perhaps, +but very honest and not vulgar. He might be an agreeable visitor, even +if he had no other claim on her.</p> + +<p>"Do you think," she said, "that he would mind coming to see me? I should +be very glad to receive him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am sure he would be charmed. He likes so much to talk of Canada."</p> + +<p>"Will you say to him then, please, that I have lived there many years +and should be very pleased to have a chat with him about it. I might be +able to give him news."</p> + +<p>Madame Everaert was delighted. She went away quite satisfied to find +Father Paul at the very earliest opportunity, and to deliver to him with +<i>empressement</i> Mrs. Costello's invitation.</p> + +<p>Lucia, meanwhile, took her usual walk. She went quickly along the stony +streets and climbed up the grassy side of the rampart. It was all still +and solitary, and she sat down where there lay before her a wide stretch +of perfectly level country, only broken by the lines of the old +fortifications, and bordered by the sea. In the clear morning sunshine, +she could distinguish the white foam where the waves broke against the +wooden pier, and out on the blue waters there were white shining specks +of sails. Ships coming and going, and on the beach moving groups of +people—everywhere something that had life and motion and looked on to a +future, an object beyond this present moment—everywhere but here with +her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh," she said to herself, "how wearisome life is! What good to myself +or to anybody else is this existence of mine? Am I never either to be +good or happy again? Happy, I suppose that does not so much matter—but +good? If people are wrong once, can they never get right again? I used +to think I should like to be a Sister of Mercy—and now that is all that +is left for me, I do not feel any inclination for it. I don't think I +have a vocation even for that."</p> + +<p>And at this point she fell into a lower depth of melancholy—one of +those sad moods which, at eighteen, have even a kind of charm in their +exaggeration.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + + +<p>A day or two later there came, forwarded from Paris, an English letter +for Mrs. Costello. It arrived in the evening, at a time when they had no +expectation of receiving anything, and Madame Everaert brought it up, +and delivered it into Mrs. Costello's own hand, so that Lucia was not +near enough to see from whom it came. The general appearance of the +letter made her think it was English, and she knew that Mr. Wynter had +their present address and would not write to Paris. So she felt a +half-joyful, half-frightened suspicion that it must be from Maurice, and +her idea was confirmed by her mother's proceedings. For Mrs. Costello +having looked at the address, put the letter quietly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> in her pocket, and +went on talking about Father Paul, from whom they were expecting a +visit.</p> + +<p>Lucia could hardly restrain herself. It was clear that Mrs. Costello did +not mean to open the letter before her, or to tell her whence it came; +but her anxiety to know was only increased by this certainty. She had +almost made up her mind to ask plainly whether it was from Maurice, when +the door opened and the old priest came in.</p> + +<p>He was a fine-looking, white-haired man of more than seventy, to whom +the long black robe seemed exactly the most suitable dress possible, and +he had a good manner too, which was neither that of a mere priest, nor +of a mere gentleman, but belonged to both. The first few minutes of talk +made Mrs. Costello sure that she did not repent having invited his +acquaintance; a fact which had been in some little doubt before.</p> + +<p>She had said to him, "Madame Everaert told me you knew Canada, and, as +we are Canadians, I could not resist the wish to see one who might still +feel an interest in our country," and this turned the conversation +immediately to what she desired to hear.</p> + +<p>He answered her with a smile, "Probably my knowledge of Canada is very +different from yours;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> mine is almost entirely confined to the wilder +and less settled parts—to the Indian lands, in fact."</p> + +<p>"In Upper Canada?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And then it is many years since I returned."</p> + +<p>"I have lived for twenty years in Upper Canada; and of some of the +Indians, the Ojibways of Moose Island, I have heard a great deal; +perhaps you know them?"</p> + +<p>The priest's eye brightened, but next moment he sighed.</p> + +<p>"The very place!" he said. "Unhappy people! But I am forgetting that +you, madame, are not likely to share my feelings on the subject."</p> + +<p>"I do not know," Mrs. Costello answered, "that we should be wholly +disagreed. I have heard, I may almost say I know myself, much of your +mission there."</p> + +<p>"Is it possible? Can any good remain still?"</p> + +<p>"One of your old pupils died lately, and in his last hours he remembered +nothing so well as your teaching."</p> + +<p>Her voice shook; this sudden mention of her husband, voluntary as it +was, agitated her strongly. Father Paul saw it and wondered, but +appeared to see nothing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Poor boys! You console me, madame, for many sad thoughts. I was a young +man then, and, as you see, I am now a very old one, but I have known few +more sorrowful days than the one when I left Moose Island."</p> + +<p>"Yet it must have been a hard and wearisome life?"</p> + +<p>"Hard?—Yes—but not wearisome. We were ready to bear the hardness as +long as we hoped to see the fruit of our labours. I thought there had +been no fruit, or very little; but you prove to me that I was too +faithless."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello remained a moment silent. She was much inclined to trust +her guest with that part of her story which referred to Christian—no +doubt he was in the habit of keeping stranger secrets than hers.</p> + +<p>While she hesitated he spoke again.</p> + +<p>"But the whole face of the country must have changed since I knew it. +Did you live in that neighbourhood?"</p> + +<p>"For several years—all the first years of my married life, I lived on +Moose Island itself, and my daughter—come to me a moment, Lucia,—was +born there."</p> + +<p>She took Lucia's hand and drew her forward.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> The remaining daylight fell +full upon her dark hair and showed the striking outlines of her face and +graceful head.</p> + +<p>Father Paul looked in amazement—looked from the daughter to the mother, +and the mother to the daughter, not knowing what to think or say.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello relieved his embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"My marriage was a strange one," she said. "The old pupil of whom I +spoke to you just now, was my husband."</p> + +<p>"Your husband, madame? Do I understand you? Mademoiselle's father then +was—"</p> + +<p>"An Indian."</p> + +<p>He remained dumb with astonishment, not willing to give vent to the +exclamations of surprise and almost sorrow which he felt might be +offensive to his hostess, while she told him in the fewest possible +words of her marriage to Christian and separation from him.</p> + +<p>There was one thought in the old priest's mind, which had never, at +anytime, occurred to Mrs. Costello—Christian had been destined for the +Church. He had taken no vows, certainly; but for years he had been +trained with that object, and at one time his vocation had seemed +remarkably clear and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> strong—his marriage, at all, therefore, seemed to +add enormity to his other guilt.</p> + +<p>And yet there was a sort of lurking tenderness for the boy who had been +the favourite pupil of the mission—who had seemed to have such natural +aptitude for good of all sorts, until suddenly the mask dropped off, and +the good turned to evil. It might be that his misdoings were but the +result of a temporary possession of the evil one himself, and that at +last all might have been well.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello spoke more fully as she saw how deep was the listener's +interest in her story; yet, when she came near the end, she almost +shrank from the task. The sacred tenderness which belongs to the dead, +had fallen like a veil over all her last memories of her husband; and +now she wanted to share them with this good old man, whose teaching had +made them what they were.</p> + +<p>More than once she had to stop, to wait till her voice was less +unsteady, but she went on to the very end—even to that strange burial +in the waters. When all was told, there was a silence in the room; +Father Paul had wet eyes, unseen in the dusk, and he did not care to +speak; Lucia, whose tears were very ready of late; was crying quietly, +with her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> head lying against the end of the sofa, while Mrs. Costello, +leaning back on her cushions, waited quietly till the painful throbbing +of her heart should subside.</p> + +<p>At last Lucia rose and stole out of the room. She went to her own, and +lay down on her bed still crying, though she could hardly tell why. Her +trouble about the letter still haunted and worried her, and her spirit +was so broken that she was like a sick child, neither able nor anxious +to command herself.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the lamp had been brought into the sitting-room, and the two +elder people had recommenced their conversation. It was of a less +agitating kind now, but the subject was not very different, and both +were deeply interested, so that time passed on quickly, and the evening +was gone before they were aware. When Father Paul rose to go, he said, +"Madam, I thank you for all you have told me. Your secret is safe with +me; but I beg your permission to share the rest of your intelligence +with one of my brothers—the only survivor except myself of that +mission. If you will permit me, I shall visit you again—I should like +much to make friends with mademoiselle, your daughter. She re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>calls to +me strongly the features of my once greatly loved pupil."</p> + +<p>With this little speech he departed, and left Mrs. Costello to wonder +over this last page in her husband's history. Only a year ago how little +would she have believed it possible that a man respectable, nay, +venerable, as this old priest, would have thought kindly of Lucia for +her father's sake!</p> + +<p>After a little while she got up and went to look for her daughter. She +found her sitting at a window, looking forlornly out at the lights and +movements in the place, and not very ready to meet the lamplight when +she came back into the sitting-room. Still, however, she heard nothing +of the letter, nor even when she bade her mother good night and lingered +a little at the very last, hoping for one word, even though it might be +a reproach, to tell her that it was from Maurice.</p> + +<p>She had to go to her room disconsolate. She heard Mrs. Costello go to +hers, and close the door.</p> + +<p>'Now,' she thought, 'it will be opened. It cannot be from <i>him</i>, or +mamma could not have waited so long. But I don't know; she has such +self-command! I used to fancy I could be patient at great need—and I am +not one bit.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<p>However, as waiting and listening for every sound brought her no nearer +to the obtaining of her wishes, she undressed and lay down, and began to +try to imagine what the letter could be. Gradually, from thinking, she +fell into dreaming, and dropped into a doze.</p> + +<p>But before she was sound asleep, the door opened, and Mrs. Costello +shading her candle with her hand, came into the room. Lucia had been so +excited that the smallest movement was sufficient to awake her. She +started up and said, "What is it mamma?" in a frightened voice.</p> + +<p>"It is late," Mrs. Costello said. "Quite time you were asleep, but I am +glad you are not. Lie down. I shall sit here for a few minutes and tell +you what I want to say."</p> + +<p>Lucia obeyed. She saw that her mother had a paper in her hand—no doubt +the letter. Now she should hear.</p> + +<p>"I had a letter to-night," her mother went on. "I dare say you wondered +I did not open it at once. The truth was, I saw that it was in Mr. +Leigh's writing, and I had reason to feel a little anxious as to what he +might say."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia could say no more; but she waited eagerly for the news that must +be coming—news of Maurice.</p> + +<p>"I shall give you the letter to read. Bring it back to me in the +morning; but before you do so, think well what you will do. I would +never ask you to be untrue to yourself in such a matter; but I entreat +you to see that you do know your own mind, and to use your power of +saying yes or no, if you should ever have it, not like a foolish girl, +but like a woman, who must abide all her life by the consequences of her +decision."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello kissed her daughter's forehead, lighted the candle which +stood on a small table, and leaving the letter beside it, went softly +away.</p> + +<p>The moment the door closed, Lucia eagerly stretched out her arm and took +the letter. Her hands trembled; the light seemed dim; and Mr. Leigh's +cramped old-fashioned handwriting was more illegible than ever; but she +read eagerly, devouring the words.</p> + +<p>"My dear Mrs. Costello,—You may think, perhaps, that I ought not to +interfere in a matter in which I have not been consulted; but you know +that to us, who have in all the world nothing to care for but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> one only +child, that child's affairs are apt to be much the same as our own.</p> + +<p>"Maurice told me, just before we left Canada, what I might have been +certain of long before if I had not been a stupid old man—that it was +the hope of his life to marry your Lucia. He went to Paris, certainly, +with the intention of asking her to marry him; and he came back quite +unexpectedly, and looking ten years older—so changed, not only in +looks, but in all his ways of speaking and acting, that it was clear to +me some great misfortune had happened. Still he said very little to me, +and it appears incredible that Lucia can have refused him. Perhaps that +seems an arrogant speech for his father to make—but you will understand +that I mean if she knew how constantly faithful he has been to her ever +since they were both children;—and if she has done so in some momentary +displeasure with him (for you know they used to have little quarrels +sometimes), or if they have parted in anger, I beg of you, dear Mrs. +Costello, for the sake of his mother, to try to put things right between +them.</p> + +<p>"I must tell you plainly that I am writing without my son's knowledge. I +would very much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> rather he should never know I have written; but I have +been urged to do it by some things that have happened lately.</p> + +<p>"Some time ago Maurice, speaking to me of Mr. Beresford's will, told me +that there had been a little difficulty in tracing one of the persons +named as legatees. This was a cousin of Mr. Beresford's, with whom he +seems to have had very little acquaintance, and no recent intercourse +whatever; although, except Lady Dighton, she was the nearest relative he +had. The lawyers discovered, while Maurice was in Canada, that this lady +herself was dead. Her marriage had been unfortunate, and she had a +spendthrift son, to whom, as his mother's heir, the money left by Mr. +Beresford passed; but it appeared that she had also a daughter, who was +in unhappy circumstances, being dependent on some relation of her +father. Maurice, very naturally and properly, thought that, as head of +the family, it was his duty to arrange something for this lady's +comfort; and accordingly, being in London, where she lives, he called on +her. She has since then been in this neighbourhood, and I have seen her +several times. She is a young lady of agreeable appearance and manners, +and seems qualified to become<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> popular, if she were in a position to do +so. I should not have thought of this, however, if it had not been for a +few words Maurice said to me one day. I asked him some question about +marrying, hoping to hear some allusion to Lucia, but he said very +gravely that he should certainly marry some time; he had promised his +grandfather to do so. Then he said suddenly, 'What would you think of +Emma Landor for a daughter-in-law?' 'Emma Landor?' I answered; 'what has +put her into your head?' 'Just this, sir,' he said; 'if I am to marry as +a duty, I had better find somebody to whom I shall do some good, and not +all evil, by marrying them. Emma would enjoy being mistress here; she +would do it well, too; and having Hunsdon, she would not miss anything +else that might be wanting.' With that he went out of the room; and +after awhile I persuaded myself that he meant nothing serious by what he +had said. However, Lady Dighton has spoken to me of the same thing +since. Both she and I are convinced now that Maurice thinks—you may be, +better then we are, able to understand why—that he has lost Lucia, and +that, therefore, a marriage of convenience is all that he can hope for. +Perhaps I am mistaken, or,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> at all events, too soon alarmed; but the +mere idea of his proposing to this young lady throws me into a panic. If +she should accept him (and Lady Dighton thinks she probably would), it +would be a life-long misery. I am old-fashioned enough to think it would +be a sin. He will not do it yet; perhaps he may see you again before he +does. Do, I entreat of you, use the great influence you have always had +with him to set things right. I have written a very long letter, because +I could not ask your help without explaining; but I trust to your +kindness to sympathize with my anxiety. Kindest regards to Lucia."</p> + +<p>Lucia put down the paper. The whole letter, slowly and painfully +deciphered, seemed to make no impression on her brain. She lay still, +with a sort of stunned feeling, till the sense of what she had read came +to her fully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Maurice!" she cried under her breath, "I want you! Come back to me! +She shall never have you! You belong to me!" She covered her face with +her hands, ashamed of even hearing her own words; then she got up and +went across to her window, and looked out at the light burning on the +tower—the light which shone far across the sea<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> towards England. But +presently she came back, and reached her little desk—Maurice's gift +long ago—and knelt down on the floor, and wrote, kneeling,—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Maurice, you promised that if ever I wanted you, you would come. I +want you now more than ever I did in my life. Please, please come.</p> + +<p> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 22em;">"Lucia</span>." +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Then she leaned her head down till it almost touched the paper, and +stayed so for a few minutes before she got up from her knees and +extinguished her candle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + + +<p>In the morning, when Lucia woke, her note to Maurice lay on the open +desk, where she had left it, and was the first thing to remind her of +what she had heard and done. She went and took it up to destroy it, but +laid it down again irresolutely.</p> + +<p>"I do want him," she said to herself. "Without any nonsense, I ought to +see him again before he does anything. I ought to tell him I am sorry +for being so cross and ungrateful; and if he were married, or even +engaged, I could not do it; it would be like confessing to a stranger."</p> + +<p>There was something very like a sob, making her throat swell as she +considered. He would perhaps see them again, Mr. Leigh said. Ought she +to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> trust to that chance? But then her courage might fail if he came +over just like any ordinary visitor; and her young cousins from Chester +were coming; and if they should be there, it would be another hindrance. +"And, oh! I must see him again," she said, "and find out whether we are +not to be brother and sister any more."</p> + +<p>She said "brother and sister" still, as she had done long ago; but she +knew very well in her heart now, that <i>that</i> had never been the +relationship Maurice desired. And so she tore her note into little bits, +and remained helpless, but rebelling against her helplessness. In this +humour she went to her mother's room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello was not yet up. Lucia knelt down by the bedside, and laid +Mr. Leigh's letter beside her.</p> + +<p>"Mamma, I am very sorry," she said; "I think Mr. Leigh must have been +very unhappy before he would write to you so."</p> + +<p>"I agree with you. He is not a man to take fright without cause, +either."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say, 'to take fright?'"</p> + +<p>"Why do I say so? Are you such a child still, that you cannot understand +a man like Maurice,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> always so tender towards women—Quixotically so, +indeed—making himself believe that he is doing quite right in marrying +a poor girl in Miss Landor's position, when, in fact, he is doing a +great wrong? It is a double wrong to her and to himself; and one for +which he would be certain to suffer, whether she did or not. And, Lucia +I must say it, whatever evil may come of it, now or in the future, is +our fault."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma! mamma, don't say 'our'—say 'your'—if it is mine—for +certainly it is not yours."</p> + +<p>"I will say your fault, then; I believe you feel it so."</p> + +<p>"But, mamma, really and truly, is it anybody's fault? Don't people often +love those who can't care for them in return?"</p> + +<p>"Really and truly, quite honestly and frankly, Lucia, was that the case +with you?"</p> + +<p>Lucia's eyes fell. She could not say yes.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you," Mrs. Costello went on, "what I believe to be the +truth, and you can set me right if I am wrong. You knew that Maurice had +always been fond of you—devoted to you, in a way that had come by use +to seem natural; and it had never entered your mind to think either how +much of your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> regard he deserved, or how much he really had. I will not +say anything about Percy; but I do believe," and she spoke very +deliberately, laying her hand on Lucia's, "that since Maurice went away, +you have been finding out that you had made a mistake, and that your +heart had not been wrong nearly so much as your imagination."</p> + +<p>Lucia was still silent. If she had spoken at all, it must have been to +confess that her mother was right, and that was not easy to do. Whatever +suspicions she might have in her own heart, it was a mortifying thing to +be told plainly that her love for Percy was a mistake—a mere +counterfeit—instead of the enduring devotion which it ought to have +been. But she was very much humbled now, and patiently waited for what +her mother might say next.</p> + +<p>"Well!" Mrs. Costello began again, "it is no use now to go on talking of +the past. The question is rather whether anything can be done for the +future. What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"What can I say, mamma? What can I do?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Maurice used to tell me of his plans, but he is not +likely to do that now. I would write and ask him to come over, but it is +more than doubtful whether he would come."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He promised that if ever I wanted him he would come," Lucia said, +hesitating.</p> + +<p>"If you were in need of him I am sure he would, but it would be a kind +of impertinence to send for him on that plea when it was not really for +that."</p> + +<p>"But it <i>is</i>. Mamma, don't be angry with me again! Don't be disgusted +with me; but I want, so badly, to see him and tell him I behaved +wrongly. I was so cross, so ungrateful, so <i>horrid</i>, mamma, that it was +enough to make him think all girls bad. I should <i>like</i> to tell him how +sorry I am; I feel as if I should never be happy till I did."</p> + +<p>When, after this outbreak, Lucia's face went down upon her hands, Mrs. +Costello could not resist a little self-gratulatory smile. 'All may come +right yet,' she thought to herself, 'if that wilful boy will only come +over.'</p> + +<p>"I think you are right," she said aloud. "Possibly he may come over, and +then you will have an opportunity of speaking to him, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Lucia said, very slowly, thinking of her note, and of the comfort +it would have been if she <i>could</i> but have sent it. "Oh, mamma, if we +were but in England!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Useless wishes, dear. Give me your advice about writing to Mr. Leigh."</p> + +<p>"You will write, will you not?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must. Yet it is a difficult letter for me to answer."</p> + +<p>"Could not you just say 'I will do what I can?'"</p> + +<p>"Which is absolutely nothing—unless Maurice should really pay us a +visit here, a thing not likely at present."</p> + +<p>So the conversation ended without any satisfaction to Lucia. Nay, all +her previous days had been happy compared to this one. She was devoured +now, by a restless, jealous curiosity about that Miss Landor whom Mr. +Leigh feared—she constantly found her thoughts reverting to this +subject, however she might try to occupy them with others, and the +tumult of her mind reacted upon her nerves. She could scarcely bear to +sit still. It rained all afternoon and evening, and she could not go +out, so that in the usual course of events she would have read aloud to +her mother part of the time, and for the other part sat by the window +with her crochet in her hand, but to-day she wandered about perpetually. +She even opened the piano and began to sing her merriest old songs,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> but +that soon ceased. She found the novel they were reading insufferably +stupid, and took up a volume of Shakespeare for refreshment, but it +opened naturally to the 'Merchant of Venice,' and, to the page where +Portia says:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">"Though for myself alone,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I would not be ambitious in my wish,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To wish myself much better, yet for you</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I would be trebled twenty times myself;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That only to stand high on your account,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Exceed account."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>She shut the book—yes, this was a true woman, who for true love thought +herself and all she possessed too little to give in return; but for the +little, foolish, blind souls that could not see till too late, what +<i>was</i> true love, she was no fit company.</p> + +<p>The evening passed on wearily, and Mrs. Costello, who had her own share +of disquiet also, though it was mixed with a little amusement at the +impetuosity of these young people, who were so dear to her and so +troublesome, did very little in the way of consolation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<p>Next day, the weather had cleared again, and was very lovely. In the +afternoon, Lucia persuaded Mrs. Costello to go with her to the beach. +There they got chairs, and sat for a long while enjoying the gay, and +often comical, scene round them. Numbers of people were bathing, and +beside the orthodox bathers, there was a party of little boys wading +about with bare legs, and playing all sorts of pranks in the water.</p> + +<p>A little way to the left of where they sat, there was a curious kind of +wooden pier, which ran far away out into the sea and terminated in a +small square wooden building. The whole thing was raised on piles about +five or six feet above the present level of the water which flowed +underneath it. The pier itself, in fact, was only a narrow bridge or +footpath railed partly on one side only, partly on both, and with an +oddly unsafe and yet tempting look about it. Lucia had been attracted by +it before, and she drew her mother's attention to it now—</p> + +<p>"Look, mamma," she said, "does not it seem as if one could almost cross +the Channel on it, it goes so far out. See that woman, now—I have +watched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> since she started from this end, and now you can scarcely +distinguish her figure."</p> + +<p>"There is a priest coming along it—is it not Father Paul?"</p> + +<p>"I do believe it is. I wish he would come and talk to you for a little +while, and then I would go."</p> + +<p>"You need not stay for that, dear. I shall sit here alone quite +comfortably, if you wish to go out there."</p> + +<p>"I should like very much to go. I want to see what the sea looks like +away from the beach. There is no harm, is there?"</p> + +<p>"None whatever. Go, and I will watch you."</p> + +<p>Lucia rose to go.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> Father Paul," she said, "and he is coming this way."</p> + +<p>She lingered a minute, and the priest, who had recognized them, came up.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello told him of Lucia's wish to go out on the pier, and he +assured her she would enjoy it.</p> + +<p>"The air seems even fresher there than here," he said; and she went off, +and left him and her mother together.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes they talked about the weather, the sea, and the people +about them, as two slight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> acquaintances would naturally do; but then, +when there had been a momentary pause, Father Paul startled Mrs. +Costello, by saying,</p> + +<p>"Last night, madam, you told me of persons I had not heard of for +years—this morning, strangely enough, I have met with a person of whom +you probably know something—or knew something formerly."</p> + +<p>"I?" she answered. "Impossible! I know no one in France."</p> + +<p>"This is not a Frenchman. He is named Bailey, an American, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Bailey?" Mrs. Costello repeated, terrified. "Surely he is not here?"</p> + +<p>"There is a man of that name here—a miserable ruined gambler, who says +that he knows Moose Island, and once travelled in Europe with a party of +Indians."</p> + +<p>"And what is he doing now?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. He is the most wretched, squalid object you can imagine. He +came to me this morning to ask for the loan of a few francs. He had not +even the honesty to beg without some pretence of an intention to pay."</p> + +<p>"Is he so low then as to need to beg?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Madame, he is a gambler, I repeat it. If he had a hundred francs +to-night, he would most likely be penniless to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"And he claimed charity from you because of your connection with +Canada?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. Having no other plea. I was right, madame: you know this man?"</p> + +<p>"He was my bitterest enemy!" she answered, half rising in her vehemence. +"But for him I might have had a happy life."</p> + +<p>Father Paul looked shocked.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," he said, in a troubled voice, "I am grieved to have spoken +of him."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I am thankful you did so. If I had met him by chance +in the street, I believe he could not change so much that I should not +know him, and he—"</p> + +<p>She stopped, then asked abruptly,</p> + +<p>"You did not mention me?"</p> + +<p>"Most assuredly not."</p> + +<p>"Yet he might recognise me. What shall I do?"</p> + +<p>She was speaking to herself, and not to her companion now, and she +looked impatiently towards the pier where Lucia was slowly coming back.</p> + +<p>Presently she recovered herself a little, and asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> a few more +questions about Bailey. She gathered from the answers that he had been +some time at Bourg-Cailloux, getting gradually more poverty-stricken and +utterly disreputable. That he was now wandering about without a home, or +money even for gambling. She knew enough of the man to be certain that +under such circumstances he would snatch at any means of obtaining +money, and what means easier, if he only knew it, than to threaten and +persecute her. And at any moment he might discover her—her very +acquaintance with Father Paul might betray her to him. She cast a +terrified look over all the groups of people on the beach, half +expecting to see the well-remembered features of Bailey among them; but +he was not there. Close by her, however, stood Lucia, and at a little +distance the carriage, which had been ordered to fetch them, was just +drawing up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Costello said nothing to Lucia on their way home about Bailey. She +sat in her corner of the carriage, leaning back and thinking +despairingly what to do. Her spirits had so far given way with her +failing health that she no longer felt the courage necessary to face +annoyance. And it was plainly to be feared that in case this man +discovered her, he would have no scruples, being so needy and degraded, +about using every means in his power to extort money from her. +Undoubtedly he had such means—he had but to tell her story, as he +<i>could</i> tell it, and not only her own life, but Lucia's, would be made +wretched; the separation from Maurice, which she was beginning to hope +might be only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> temporary, would become irrevocable—and, what seemed to +her still more terrible, there would be perpetual demands from her +enemy, and the misery of perpetual contact with him. To buy off such a +man, at once and finally, was, she knew, utterly beyond her power—what +then could she do?</p> + +<p>When they were at home, and the door of their sitting-room safely +closed, she turned anxiously to Lucia,</p> + +<p>"Bailey is here," she said.</p> + +<p>"Bailey?" Lucia repeated—she had forgotten the name.</p> + +<p>"The man who was present at my marriage—the American."</p> + +<p>"Mamma! How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Father Paul told me just now."</p> + +<p>"How did he know?"</p> + +<p>"The wretched man had gone to him begging, and he mentioned him to me by +chance, thinking I might know something about him."</p> + +<p>"But surely he would not remember you?"</p> + +<p>"I think he would. If by any accident he met you and me together, I am +certain he would."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I am so like my father."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Lucia, I <i>dare</i> not meet him. I believe the very sight of him would +kill me."</p> + +<p>"Let us go away, mamma. He knows nothing about us yet. We might start +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Where should we go? Even at our own door we might meet him, at the +railway station—anywhere. No, it is only inside these walls we are +safe, and scarcely here."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello was literally trembling, the panic which had seized her +was so great; Lucia, not fully understanding yet, could not help being +infected by her terror.</p> + +<p>"But, mamma, we cannot shut ourselves up in these rooms. That, with the +constant fear added to it, would soon make you ill again."</p> + +<p>"What can we do?" Mrs. Costello repeated helplessly. "If, indeed, we +could start to-night, and go south, or go out of France altogether. But +I have not even money in the house for our journey."</p> + +<p>"And if you had, you have not strength for it. Would not it be well to +consult Mr. Wynter? If we had any friend here who would make the +arrangement for us, I don't see why we should not be able to go away +without any fear of meeting this man."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No; that would not do. To consult George would just be opening up again +all that was most painful—it would be almost as bad as meeting Bailey +himself."</p> + +<p>"And we could not be stopped even if we did meet Bailey. Let me go +alone, mamma, and do what is to be done—it is not much. If I meet him I +shall not know it, and seeing me alone, the likeness cannot be so strong +as to make him recognize me all at once."</p> + +<p>"But he might see us together when we start from here; and he might +trace us. He would know at once that he could get money from me, and for +money he would do anything."</p> + +<p>She leaned back, and was silent a minute.</p> + +<p>"We must keep closely shut up for a little while, till I can decide what +to do. I wish Maurice would come."</p> + +<p>Lucia looked up eagerly. It was her own thought, though she had not +dared to say it. Maurice could always find the way out of a difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," she said anxiously, but with some hesitation, "I think this is +need—the kind of need Maurice meant."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Need, truly. But I do not know—"</p> + +<p>"He would be glad to help you. And he knows all about us."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I should not have to make long explanations to him."</p> + +<p>Just then there was a knock at the door. Both started violently. Absurd +as it was, they both expected to see Bailey himself enter. Instead, they +saw Madame Everaert, her round face flushed with walking and her hands +full of flowers.</p> + +<p>"For mademoiselle," she said, laying them down on the table, and nodding +and smiling good humouredly. "I have been to Rosendahl to see my +goddaughter there, and she has a magnificent garden, so I brought a few +flowers for mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>Lucia thanked her, and admired the flowers, and she went away without +suspecting the fright her visit had caused.</p> + +<p>"Get your desk, Lucia," Mrs. Costello said, gasping for breath, and +almost exhausted by the terrible beating of her heart, "and write a note +for me."</p> + +<p>The desk was brought and opened.</p> + +<p>"Is it to Maurice?" Lucia asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. Say that we are in great need of a friend."</p> + +<p>Lucia began. She found it much more difficult than she had done the +other night, when she wrote those few impetuous lines which had been +afterwards torn up.</p> + + +<blockquote><p style="margin-top: 2em;">"Dear Maurice," she said, "mamma tells me to write to you, and say that +something has happened which has frightened her very much, and that we +are in great need of a friend. Will you keep your promise, and come to +us?"</p></blockquote> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;">This was what she showed to her mother. When Mrs. Costello had approved +of it, she wrote a few words more.</p> + + +<blockquote><p style="margin-top: 2em;">"I want to ask you to forgive me. I don't deserve it, but I am so +unhappy.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">"Yours affectionately,</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 20em;">"Lucia.</span>"</p></blockquote> + + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;">She hesitated a little how to sign herself, but finally wrote just what +she had been accustomed to put to all her little notes written to +Maurice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> during his absences from Cacouna in the old days.</p> + +<p>When the letter had been sealed and sent off by Madame Everaert's +servant to the post-office, they began to feel that all they could do +for the present was done. Mrs. Costello lay still on her sofa, without +having strength or energy to talk, and Lucia took her never-finished +crochet, and sat in her old place by the window.</p> + +<p>But very soon it grew too dark to work. The Place was lighted, and alive +with people passing to and fro. The windows of the guard house opposite +were brilliant, and from those of a café on the same side as Madame +Everaert's there shone out, half across the square, a broad line of +light. In this way, at two places, the figures of those who moved about +the pavement on each side of the Place, were very plainly visible; even +the faces of some could be distinguished. Lucia watched these people +to-night with a new interest. Every time the strong glare fell upon a +shabby slouching figure, or on a poorly dressed man who wanted the air +of being a Frenchman, she thought, "Is that Bailey?" When the lamp came +in, Mrs. Costello had fallen asleep, so Lucia turned it down low, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +still sat at the window. The light on the tower shone out clear and +bright—above it the stars looked pale, but the sky was perfectly +serene. Maurice, if he came soon, had every prospect of a fair passage. +"And he will come," she thought to herself, "even if he is really too +much vexed with me to forgive me, he will come for mamma's sake."</p> + +<p>All next day they both kept indoors. Lucia tried to persuade her mother +to drive out into the country, but even for this Mrs. Costello had not +courage. At the same time she seemed to be losing all sense of security +in the house. She fancied she had not sufficiently impressed on Father +Paul the importance of not betraying her in any way to Bailey. She +wished to write and remind him of this, but she dared not lest her note +should fall into wrong hands. Then she thought of asking him to visit +her, but hesitated also about that till it was too late. In short, was +in a perfectly unreasonable and incapable condition—fear had taken such +hold of her in her weak state of health that Lucia began to think it +would end in nervous fever. With her the dread of Bailey began to be +quite lost in apprehension for her mother, and her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> own affairs had to +be put altogether on one side to make room for these new anxieties.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon of that day Mrs. Costello suddenly roused herself from +a fit of thought.</p> + +<p>"We must go somewhere," she said. "That is certain, whatever else is. As +soon as Maurice comes we ought to be prepared to start. Do go, Lucia, +and see if there is any packing you can do—without attracting +attention, you know."</p> + +<p>"But, mamma," Lucia objected, "Maurice cannot be here to-day, nor even, +I believe, to-morrow, at the very soonest, and I will soon do what there +is to do."</p> + +<p>"There is a great deal. And I can't help you, my poor child. And there +ought not to be a moment's unnecessary delay."</p> + +<p>Lucia had to yield. She began to pack as if all their arrangements were +made, though they had no idea either when, or to what end, their +wanderings would recommence, nor were able to give a hint to those about +them of their intended departure.</p> + +<p>Another restless night passed, and another day began. There was the +faintest possibility, they calculated, that Maurice, if he started as +soon as he received Lucia's note, might reach them late at night.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was but the shadow of a chance, for Hunsdon, as they knew, lay at +some distance from either post-office or railway station, and the letter +might not reach him till this very morning. Yet, since he <i>might</i> come, +they must do all they could to be ready. The day was very hot. All the +windows were open, and the shutters closed; a drowsy heat and stillness +filled the rooms. Mrs. Costello walked about perpetually. She had tried +to help Lucia, but had been obliged to leave off and content herself +with gathering up, here and there, the things that were in daily use, +and bringing them to Lucia to put away. They said very little to each +other. Mrs. Costello could think of nothing but Bailey, and she did not +dare to talk about him from some fanciful fear of being overheard. Lucia +thought of her mother's health and of Maurice, and Mrs. Costello had no +attention to spare for either.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, sounding very loud in the stillness, there came the roll of a +carriage over the rough stones of the Place. It stopped; there was a +moment's pause, and then a hasty ring at the door-bell. Both mother and +daughter paused and listened. There was a quick movement downstairs—a +foot which was swifter and lighter than Madame<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> Everaert's on the +staircase—and Maurice at the sitting-room door.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello went forward from the doorway where she had been arrested +by the sound of his coming; Lucia, kneeling before a trunk in the +adjoining room, saw him standing there, and sprang to her feet; he came +in glad, eager, impatient to know what they wanted of him; and before +any of them had time to think about it, this meeting, so much desired +and dreaded, was over.</p> + +<p>"But how could you come so soon?" Mrs. Costello asked. "We did not +expect you till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"By the greatest chance. I had been in town for two days. Our station +and post-office are at the same place. When they met me at the station, +they brought me letters which had just arrived, and yours was among +them. So I was able to catch the next train back to London, instead of +going home."</p> + +<p>"And which way did you come? The boat is not in yet?"</p> + +<p>"By Calais. It was quicker. Now tell me what has happened."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello looked carefully to see that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> door was shut. Then she +told Maurice who and what she feared, and how she could not even leave +Bourg-Cailloux without help.</p> + +<p>"Yet, I think I ought to leave," she said.</p> + +<p>"Of course you ought," Maurice answered. "You must go to England."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + + +<p>"You must go to England," Maurice said decidedly. "It is an easy +journey, and you would be quite safe there."</p> + +<p>"But I ought not to go to England," Mrs. Costello answered rather +uncertainly. "And Bailey might follow us there."</p> + +<p>"I doubt that. By what you say, too, if he were in England, we might +perhaps set the police to watch him, which would prevent his annoying +you. However, the thing to do is to carry you off before he has any idea +you are in Europe at all."</p> + +<p>Lucia stayed long enough to see that the mere presence of Maurice +inspired her mother with fresh courage; then she went back to her +packing, leaving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> the door ajar that she might hear their voices. She +went on with her work in a strange tumult and confusion. Not a word +beyond the first greetings had passed between Maurice and herself, but +she could not help feeling as if their positions were somehow +changed—and not for the worse.</p> + +<p>There had been no words; but just for one second Maurice had held her +hand and looked at her very earnestly; whereupon she had felt her cheeks +grow very hot, and her eyes go down to the ground as if she were making +some confession.</p> + +<p>After that he released her, and she went about her occupations. She +began to wonder now whether she would have to tell him how sorry she +was, or whether enough had been said; and to incline to the last +opinion.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile she went on busily. In about half an hour she heard Maurice go +out, and then Mrs. Costello came to her.</p> + +<p>"He is gone to make inquiries," she said; "you know there is a boat +to-night, but then we may not be able to get berths."</p> + +<p>"To-night, mamma, for England?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello looked a little displeased at Lucia's surprise, "To be +sure," she said; "why, my dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> child, you yourself thought England +would be the best place."</p> + +<p>"I did <i>think</i> so certainly, but I did not know I had said it."</p> + +<p>"Well, can we be ready?"</p> + +<p>"I can finish packing in an hour, but there is Madame Everaert to +arrange with."</p> + +<p>"We must wait till Maurice comes back before doing that."</p> + +<p>"I suppose we must; mamma, will you please go and lie down? Otherwise +you will not be able to go."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello smiled. She felt able for any exertion to escape from her +enemy under Maurice's guidance. However, she did as her daughter wished, +and lay quietly waiting for his coming back.</p> + +<p>Lucia heard his steps first, notwithstanding. She had her last trunk +just ready for locking, and went into the sitting-room to hear the +decision, with her hair a little disordered and a bright flush of +excitement and fatigue on her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Are we to go?" she said quickly.</p> + +<p>"I think you should if you can," he answered her. "But can you be +ready?"</p> + +<p>"By what time?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nine o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Everything is packed. Half an hour is all we really need now."</p> + +<p>"Three hours to spare then. Everything is in our favour. It is not a bad +boat, and there is room for us on board."</p> + +<p>"Have you taken berths then?" Mrs. Costello asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. And I will tell you why I did so without waiting to consult you. I +made some inquiries about this fellow Bailey, and found out that it +would most likely not suit him to go to England for some time to come."</p> + +<p>"You inquired about him? Good heavens, what a risk!"</p> + +<p>"You forget, dear Mrs. Costello, that I was meant for a lawyer. Don't be +afraid. He has no more thought of you than of the Khan of Tartary."</p> + +<p>"If you only knew the comfort it is having you, Maurice; I was quite +helpless, quite upset by this last terror."</p> + +<p>"But you had been ill, mamma," Lucia interposed. "It was no wonder you +were upset."</p> + +<p>"That is not kind, Lucia," Maurice said, turning to her with a half +smile. "Mrs. Costello wishes to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> make me believe she depends on me, and +you try to take away the flattering impression."</p> + +<p>"Oh! no; I did not mean that. Mamma knows—" but there she got into +confusion and stopped.</p> + +<p>"Well," Mrs. Costello said, "we had better send for Madame Everaert, and +tell her we are going."</p> + +<p>Madame came. She was desolated, but had nothing to say against the +departure of her lodgers, and, as Lucia had told Maurice, half an hour +was enough for the settling of their last affairs at Bourg-Cailloux.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello did not wish to go on board the boat till near the hour +named for sailing; it was well, too, that she should have as much rest +as possible before her journey. She kept on her sofa, therefore, where +so large a portion of her time lately had been spent; and Lucia, from +habit, took her seat by the window.</p> + +<p>Then in the quiet twilight arose the question, "Where are we to go when +we reach England?"</p> + +<p>"Where?" Maurice said, "why, to Hunsdon, of course. My father will be so +pleased—and Louisa will come rushing over in ecstasies the moment she +hears."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That might be all very well," Mrs. Costello said, "if we were only +coming to England as visitors, but since we are not, I shall wish to +find a place were we can settle as quickly as possible. I should +certainly like it to be within reach of Hunsdon, if we can manage it."</p> + +<p>"Come to Hunsdon first, at any rate, and look out."</p> + +<p>"I think not, Maurice. We might stay in London for a week or two."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you <i>prefer</i> it. But, at all events, I know perfectly well +that one week of London will be as much as either of you can bear. When +you have had that, I shall try again to persuade you."</p> + +<p>While they talked, Lucia sat looking out. For the last time she saw the +Place grow dusky, and then flame out with gas—for the last time she +watched the lighting of the beacon, and wondered how far on their way +they would be able to see it still.</p> + +<p>Eight o'clock struck; then a quarter past, and it was time to go.</p> + +<p>The boat lay in the dock. On board, a faint light gleamed out from the +cabin-door, but everything on shore was dark. Passengers were arriving +each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> moment, and their luggage stood piled up ready to be embarked. +Sailors were talking or shouting to each other in English and French; +the cargo of fruit and vegetables was still being stowed away, and +people were running against other people in the darkness, and trying +vainly to discover their own trunks on the deck, or their own berths in +the cabin. Into the midst of all this confusion Maurice brought his +charges; but as he had been on board in the afternoon, he knew where to +take them, and they found their own quarters without difficulty. While +he saw to their packages, they made their arrangements for the night.</p> + +<p>"I shall lie down at once," Mrs. Costello said. "It is not uncomfortable +here, and I think it is always best."</p> + +<p>"But it is so early, and on deck the air is so pleasant. Should you mind +my leaving you for a little while?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. There is no reason why you should stay down here if you +dislike it. Maurice will take care of you."</p> + +<p>But Lucia had no intention of waiting for Maurice. She saw her mother +comfortably settled, and then stole up alone to the deck. The boat had +not yet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> started; it seemed to lie in the very shadow of the quaint old +town, and Lucia could trace the outline of the buildings against the +starry sky.</p> + +<p>She felt a little soft sensation of regret at saying good-bye to this +last corner of France. 'And yet,' she thought, 'I have been very unhappy +here. I wonder if England will be happier?'</p> + +<p>She stood leaning against the bulwarks, looking now at the town, now at +the dark glimmer of the water below, and, to tell the truth, beginning +to wonder where Maurice was. While she wondered, he came up to her and +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Lucia, it <i>is</i> you then? I thought you would not be able to stay +below."</p> + +<p>"No. It is so hot. Here the night is lovely."</p> + +<p>"The deck is tolerably clear now. Come and walk up and down a +little—unless you are tired?"</p> + +<p>"I am tired, but to walk will rest me."</p> + +<p>As she turned he took her hand and put it through his arm. For a minute +they were silent.</p> + +<p>"Two days ago, Lucia," Maurice said "I thought this was an +impossibility."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"Our being together—as we are now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did you? But you had promised to come if ever we were in trouble."</p> + +<p>"Yes. And I meant to keep my word. But I fancied you would never send +for me."</p> + +<p>"You see," Lucia said, trying to speak lightly, "that we had no other +friend to send for."</p> + +<p>"Is that so? Was that the only reason?"</p> + +<p>"Maurice!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me something, Lucia. Did you mean the last sentence of your note?"</p> + +<p>"What was it?"</p> + +<p>"You said you were unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes, I was. <i>So</i> unhappy—I was thinking of it just now."</p> + +<p>"And at present? Are you unhappy still?"</p> + +<p>"You know I am not."</p> + +<p>"I have been miserable, too, lately. Horribly miserable. I was ready to +do I can't tell you what absurdities. Until your note came."</p> + +<p>He stopped a moment, but she had nothing to say.</p> + +<p>"It is a great comfort to have got so far," he went on, "but I suppose +one is never satisfied. Now that I am not quite miserable, I should like +to be quite happy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia could not help laughing, though she did so a little nervously.</p> + +<p>"Don't be unreasonable," she said.</p> + +<p>"But I am. I must needs put it to the touch again. Lucia, you know what +I want to say; can't you forget the past, and come home to Hunsdon and +be my wife?"</p> + +<p>They stood still side by side, in the starry darkness and neither of +them knew very well for a few minutes what they said. Only Maurice +understood that the object of his life was gained; and Lucia felt that +from henceforth, for ever, she would never be perverse, or passionate, +or wilful again, for Maurice had forgiven her, and loved her still.</p> + +<p>They never noticed that the boat was delayed beyond its time, and that +other passengers chafed at the delay. They stayed on deck in the +starlight, and said little to each other, but they both felt that a new +life had begun—a life which seemed to be grafted on the old one before +their troubles, and to have nothing to do with this last year. When +Maurice was about to say good-night at the cabin door, he made the first +allusion to what had brought them together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I shall pension Bailey," he said. "His last good deed blots out all his +misdoings."</p> + +<p>"What good deed?"</p> + +<p>"Frightening you."</p> + +<p>"He did not frighten me."</p> + +<p>"Frightening Mrs. Costello then. It comes to the same thing in the end. +But why did not you send for your cousin, Mr. Wynter?"</p> + +<p>"Ask mamma."</p> + +<p>"I have something more interesting to ask her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello knew tolerably well, when Lucia kissed her that night, +what had happened. She said nothing audibly, but in her heart there was +a <i>Nunc Dimittis</i> sung thankfully; and in spite of the sea, she fell +asleep over it. The night was as calm as it could be, and Maurice, who +had no inclination for sleep or for the presence of the crowd below, +spent most of it on deck. Towards morning he went down; but at seven +o'clock, when Lucia peeped out, he was up again and waiting for her. She +only gave him a little nod and smile, however, and then retreated, but +presently came back with her mother.</p> + +<p>They got chairs and sat watching the coast, which was quickly coming +nearer, and the vessels which they passed lying out in the still +waters.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We shall be in in two hours," Maurice said, "though we were late +starting. The captain says he has not had such a good run this year."</p> + +<p>"For which I am very thankful," Mrs. Costello answered.</p> + +<p>"What a mercy it is to have got away so easily; it was well we sent to +you, Maurice."</p> + +<p>"Very well; the best thing that ever was done. Lucia and I agreed as to +that last night."</p> + +<p>Lucia pouted the very least in the world, and her mother smiled.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me you took a long while to settle the question. I thought +she was never coming."</p> + +<p>"Why, mamma? I came as soon as the boat started."</p> + +<p>"We have settled our differences," Maurice said, leaning down to speak +quietly to Mrs. Costello. "Do you give us leave to make our own +arrangements for the future?"</p> + +<p>"I think you are pretty sure of my leave."</p> + +<p>"Then we all go straight on to Hunsdon together?"</p> + +<p>"Are those your arrangements?"</p> + +<p>"Not mine, certainly," Lucia interposed. "I thought we were to stay in +London."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But why?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you see," Mrs. Costello asked, "that any little compact you two +children may have made has nothing to do with the necessity of my +finding a house for myself and my daughter—as long as she is only my +daughter."</p> + +<p>Maurice had to give way a second time.</p> + +<p>"Very well then," he said. "At all events you can't forbid me to stay in +London, too."</p> + +<p>"But I certainly shall. You may stay and see us settled, but after that +you are to go home and attend to your own affairs."</p> + +<p>They reached London by noon, and before night they found, and took +possession of, a lodging which Mrs. Costello said to herself would suit +them very well until Lucia should be married; after which, of course, +she would want to settle near Hunsdon. Maurice spent the evening with +them, but was only allowed to do so on condition of leaving London for +home next morning.</p> + +<p>As soon as they were at all settled, Mrs. Costello wrote to her cousin. +She told him that she had had urgent reason for quitting France +suddenly; that other causes had weighed with her in deciding to return +to England, and that she was anxious to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> see and consult with him. She +begged him, therefore, to come up to town and to bring one at least of +his daughters with him on a visit to Lucia.</p> + +<p>When the letter had been sent off, she said to her daughter, "Suppose +that we are penniless in consequence of our flight? What is to done +then?"</p> + +<p>"Surely that cannot be?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know until I see my cousin. I think it must depend legally on +the terms of your grandfather's will; but, in fact, I suppose George had +the decision in his hands."</p> + +<p>After this they both looked anxiously for Mr. Wynter's answer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + + +<p>But before Mr. Wynter had time to reply.—indeed, by the very first +possible post—came a letter to Lucia, the sight of which made her very +rosy. She had had plenty of letters from Maurice long ago, and never +blushed over them as she did over this; but then this was so different. +She did not even like to read it in her mother's presence. She just +glanced at it there, and carried it off to devour in comfort alone. It +was quite short, after all, for he had scarcely had ten minutes before +the post hour; but it said—beside several things which were of no +interest except to the reader—that he had found Lady Dighton at Hunsdon +on his arrival, and had told her and his father together of his +engagement;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> that his cousin was going to write and invite Mrs. Costello +to Dighton; and that Mr. Leigh said, if they did not come down +immediately, he should be obliged to start for London himself to tell +them how pleased he was.</p> + +<p>"At any rate," Maurice concluded, "I shall be in town again on Saturday. +I find I have business to see my lawyer about."</p> + +<p>All this—as well as the rest of the note—was very agreeable. Lucia +went and sat down on a footstool at her mother's feet to tell her the +news. Mrs. Costello laid her hand on her child's head and sighed softly.</p> + +<p>"You will have to give up this fashion of yours, darling," she said, +"you must learn to be a woman now."</p> + +<p>Lucia laughed.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I ever shall," she answered. "At least, not with you or +with Maurice."</p> + +<p>"Would you like to go to Dighton?"</p> + +<p>She considered for a minute.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma, I think I should. You know how things are in those great +houses; but I have never seen anything but Canada, and even there, just +the country. I should not like, by-and-by, for people<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> to laugh at +Maurice, because I was only an ignorant country girl."</p> + +<p>She spoke very slowly and timidly; but Mrs. Costello began to think she +was right. It would be as well that the future mistress of Hunsdon +should have some little introduction to her new world, to prepare her +for "by-and-by."</p> + +<p>Next day came two letters for Mrs. Costello, as well as one for Lucia. +The first was from Lady Dighton full of congratulation, and pressing her +invitation; the other, from Mr. Wynter, announced that he, his wife, and +daughter, would be in London next evening. Next evening was Saturday, +and Maurice also would be there, and would, of course spend Sunday with +them; so that they had a prospect of plenty of guests.</p> + +<p>Maurice, however, arrived early in the day. He had established himself +at a neighbouring hotel, and came in quite with the old air of being at +home. He made a little grimace when he heard of the others who were +expected, but contented himself by making the most of the hours before +their train was due. He found an opportunity also of conveying to Mrs. +Costello his conviction that Hunsdon was very much in want of a lady to +make it comfortable, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> that Lucia would be much better there than +shut up in London. The fact that London was in its glory at that moment +made no impression on him.</p> + +<p>"That is just it," he said, when this was suggested to him. "I want to +get it settled and bring her back to enjoy herself here a little before +the season is over."</p> + +<p>It seemed, indeed, pretty evident that the present state of things could +not last long; there was no reason why it should, and nothing but the +bride's preparations to delay the long-desired wedding.</p> + +<p>The Wynters came about nine o'clock. Mrs. Wynter instantly recognized +Maurice. Her daughters had speculated enough about her mysterious +visitor that winter night, to have prevented her forgetting him, if she +would otherwise have done so, and the state of affairs at present was +very soon evident as an explanation of the mystery. When the party +separated for the night, Mrs. Costello and Mr. Wynter remained in the +drawing-room for that consultation for which he had come, while his wife +and daughter stayed together upstairs to talk over their new relations +before going to bed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello, as briefly as possible, made her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> cousin comprehend that +she had been compelled to leave France, and had fled to England because +it was the most accessible refuge.</p> + +<p>"I never meant to have come back," she said. "I have never allowed +myself to think of it, because I could not disobey my father again."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you have come, to tell you the truth;" he answered. "I do not +at all imagine that, in your present circumstances, my uncle would have +wished to keep you away."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello looked relieved.</p> + +<p>"I am almost inclined to go further," he continued, "and to say that he +must have anticipated your return."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because in his will he gives you your income unconditionally, and only +expresses a wish that you should not come back."</p> + +<p>"Is it so really?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. But you have a copy of the will."</p> + +<p>"It has not been unpacked since we came from Canada. I had made it so +much my duty to obey the request that I had forgotten it had no +condition attached to it."</p> + +<p>"It has none."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am very glad; and you think he would have changed his mind now?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. Especially as it seems to me Lucia is likely to settle in +England."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. That was the second thing I wanted to speak to you about."</p> + +<p>"They are engaged, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; it has been the wish of my heart for years. Maurice is like a son +to me."</p> + +<p>They discussed the matter in its more commonplace aspect. The wealth and +position of the bridegroom elect were points as to which Mr. Wynter felt +it his business to inquire, and when he found these so satisfactory, he +congratulated his cousin with great cordiality, and plainly expressed +his opinion that delays in such a case were useless and objectionable. +He liked Lucia, and admired her, and thought, too, that there would be +no better way of blotting out the remembrance of the mother's +unfortunate marriage than by a prosperous one on the part of the +daughter.</p> + +<p>Meantime Mrs. Wynter sat in an easy-chair by her dressing-table, and her +daughter was curled up on the floor near her.</p> + +<p>"Well, mamma," Miss Wynter said, "you see I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> was right. I knew perfectly +well that there must be some romance at the bottom of it all."</p> + +<p>"You were very wise, my dear."</p> + +<p>"And, mamma, if I had seen Lucia, I should have been still more sure. +Why, she is perfectly lovely! I hope she will let me be her bridesmaid."</p> + +<p>"Tiny, you know I don't approve of your talking in that way."</p> + +<p>"What way, mamma? Of course, they are going to be married. Anybody can +see that."</p> + +<p>"If they are, no doubt we shall hear in good time."</p> + +<p>"And I am sure, if either of us were to marry half as well, the whole +house would be in a flutter. I mean to be very good friends with Lucia, +and then, perhaps, she will invite me to go and see her. And I <i>must</i> be +her bridesmaid, because I am her nearest relation; and she can't have +any friends in England, and I shall make her let me have a white dress +with blue ribbons."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wynter still reproved, but she smiled, too; and Tiny being a +spoiled child, needed no greater encouragement. She stopped in her +mother's room until she heard Mr. Wynter coming, when she fled,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +dishevelled, to her own, and dropped asleep, to dream of following Lucia +up the aisle of an impossible church, dressed in white with ribbons of +<i>bleu de ciel</i>.</p> + +<p>Lucia perhaps had said to herself also that she meant to be good friends +with Tiny. At all events, the two girls did get on excellently together; +before the week which the Wynters spent in London was at an end, they +had discussed as much of Lucia's love story as she was disposed to tell, +and arranged that Tiny and her sister should really officiate on that +occasion to which everybody's thoughts were now beginning to be +directed.</p> + +<p>Another week found the Costellos at Dighton. They meant to stay a +fortnight or three weeks, and then to return to town until the marriage; +but of this no one of their Norfolk friends would hear a word. Lady +Dighton, Maurice, and Mr. Leigh had made up their minds that Lucia +should not leave the county until she did so a bride; and they carried +their point. The wedding-day was fixed; and Lucia found herself left, at +last, almost without a voice in the decision of her own destiny.</p> + +<p>And yet, these last weeks of her girlhood were almost too happy. She +went over several times<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> with her mother and Lady Dighton to Hunsdon, +and grew familiar with her future home; she saw the charming rooms that +were being prepared for herself, and could sit down in the midst of all +this new wealth and luxury, and talk with Maurice about the old times +when they had no splendour, but little less happiness than now; and she +had delicious hours of castle-building, sometimes alone, sometimes with +her betrothed, which were pleasanter than any actual realization of +their dreams could be.</p> + +<p>Of course, they had endless talks, in which they said the same things +over and over again, or said nothing at all; but they knew each other so +thoroughly now, and each was so completely acquainted with all the +other's past that there was truly nothing for them to tell or to hear, +except the one old story which is always new.</p> + +<p>One day, however, Maurice came over to Dighton in a great hurry, with a +letter for Lucia to read. He took her out into the garden, and when they +were quite alone he took it out and showed it to her.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she said. "It looks like a French letter."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is French. Do you remember your friend, Father Paul?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. Oh, Maurice! it cannot be about Bailey?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it is. But don't look frightened. I wrote to Father Paul, and +this is his answer."</p> + +<p>"What made you write?"</p> + +<p>"Did not I say I would pension Bailey? <i>I</i> don't forget my promises if +other people do."</p> + +<p>"Surely, you were only joking?"</p> + +<p>"Very far from it, I assure you. Your good friend undertook to manage +it, and he writes to me that my letter only arrived in time; that Bailey +was ill, and quite dependent on charity, and that he is willing to +administer the money I send in small doses suitable to the patient's +condition."</p> + +<p>"But, Maurice, it is perfect nonsense. Why should you give money to that +wretched man? <i>We</i> might, indeed, do something for him."</p> + +<p>"Who are 'we?' You had better be careful at present how you use your +personal pronouns."</p> + +<p>"I meant mamma and I might, of course."</p> + +<p>"I do not see the 'of course' at all. Mamma has nothing whatever to do +with it—nor even you.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> This is simply a mark of gratitude to Mr. Bailey +for a service he did me lately."</p> + +<p>Lucia let her hand rest a little less lightly on Maurice's arm.</p> + +<p>"And me too," she said softly.</p> + +<p>"Use your 'we' in its right sense, then, and <i>we</i> will reward him. But +not unless you are sure that you do not repent having been frightened."</p> + +<p>"Ah! you don't know how glad I was when mamma made me write that note. +It did better than the one I tore up."</p> + +<p>"What was that? Did you tear one up?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. After all, I don't believe you were as miserable as I was; for I +wrote once; I did actually write and ask you to come—only I tore up the +note—and you were consoling yourself with Miss Landor."</p> + +<p>"Miss Landor! By the way, has she been asked to come over, for the +tenth?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. You ought to ask her yourself. Why did not you propose to +her, Maurice? Or perhaps you did?"</p> + +<p>"If I did not, you may thank Bailey. Yes, indeed, Lucia, you contrived +so well to persuade me you never would care for me that I began to +imagine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> it was best I should marry her; that is, supposing she would +have me."</p> + +<p>"And all the while I was doing nothing but think of you, and of how +wicked and ungrateful and all sorts of bad things I had been in Paris."</p> + +<p>"And I—" etc. etc.</p> + +<p>The rest of their conversation that morning was much like it was on +other days, and certainly not worth repeating. Lucia, however, took the +first opportunity of speaking to Lady Dighton about Miss Landor, and +seeing that her invitation for the wedding was not neglected.</p> + +<p>The tenth of July, Lucia's birthday and her marriage-day, came quickly +to end these pleasant weeks of courtship. It was glorious weather—never +bride in our English climate had more sunshine on her—and the whole +county rung with the report of her wonderful beauty, and of the romantic +story of these two young people, who had suddenly appeared from the +unknown regions of Canada, and taken such a prominent and brilliant +place in the neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>But they troubled themselves little just then, either with their own +marvellous fortunes or with the gossip of their neighbours. Out of the +quaint old church where generations of Dightons had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> married and +buried, they came together, man and wife; and went away into "that new +world which is the old," to fulfil, as they best might, the dream to +which one of them had been so faithful. They went away in a great +clamour of bells and voices, and left Mrs. Costello alone, to comfort +herself with the thought that the changes and troubles of the past had +but served to redeem its errors, and to bring her, at last, the fuller +and more perfect realization of her heart's desire.</p> + + +<h4>END OF VOL. III.</h4> + + + + +<p class='center'> +PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO.,<br /> +LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS. +</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Canadian Heroine, by Mrs. Harry Coghill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE *** + +***** This file should be named 18132-h.htm or 18132-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/1/3/18132/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Canadian Heroine + A Novel, Volume 3 (of 3) + +Author: Mrs. Harry Coghill + +Release Date: April 8, 2006 [EBook #18132] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + + + + + + + A CANADIAN HEROINE. + + + + + A CANADIAN HEROINE. + + A Novel. + + + BY + + THE AUTHOR OF "LEAVES FROM THE BACKWOODS." + + + "Questa chiese Lucia in suo dimando, + E disse: Or ha bisogna il tuo fidele + Di te, ed io a te lo raccomando."--_Inferno. Canto II._ + + "Qu'elles sont belles, nos campagnes; + En Canada qu'on vit content! + Salut o sublimes montagnes, + Bords du superbe St. Laurent! + Habitant de cette contree + Que nature veut embellir, + Tu peux marcher tete levee, + Ton pays doit t'enorgueillir."--_J. Bedard._ + + + IN THREE VOLUMES. + + VOL. III. + + LONDON: + TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET. STRAND + 1873. + + + [_All rights Reserved._] + + PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO., + + LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS. + + + + +A CANADIAN HEROINE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Mr. Leigh was in a very depressed and anxious mood. His late +conversations with Mrs. Costello had disturbed him and broken up the +current of his thoughts, and even to some extent of his usual +occupations, without producing any result beneficial to either of them. +She had told him a strange and almost incredible story of her life; and +then, just when he was full of sympathy and eagerness to be of use to +her, everything seemed suddenly to have changed, and the events that +followed had been wholly, as it were, out of his reach. He thought over +the matter with a little sensation, which, if he had been less simple +and generous a man, might have been offence. Even as it was, he felt +uncomfortably divided between his real interest in his old friends, and +a temptation to pretend that he was not interested at all. He +remembered, too, with a serio-comical kind of remorse, the manner in +which he had spoken to Mrs. Costello about Maurice. He was obliged to +confess to himself that Maurice had never said a word to him which could +be taken as expressing any other than a brotherly feeling of regard for +Lucia; he had certainly _fancied_ that there was another kind of +affection in his thoughts; but it was no part of the old soldier's code +of honour to sanction the betrayal of a secret discovered by chance, and +he felt guilty in remembering how far the warmth of his friendship had +carried him. He considered, by way of tormenting himself yet further, +that it was perfectly possible for a young man, being daily in the +company of a beautiful and charming girl, to fancy himself in love with +her, and yet, on passing into a different world and seeing other +charming girls, to discover that he had been mistaken. It is true that +if any other person had suggested that Maurice might have done this, Mr. +Leigh would have been utterly offended and indignant; nevertheless, +having proposed the idea to himself, he tried to look upon it as quite +natural and justifiable. After all, this second theory of inconstancy +rested upon the first theory of supposed love, and that upon guesses and +surmises, so that the whole edifice was just as shadowy and +unsubstantial as it could well be. But then it is curious to see how +much real torment people manage to extract from visionary troubles. + +While his neighbours were still at Moose Island Mr. Leigh received two +letters from Maurice. The first not only did not contain the usual note +enclosed for Mrs. Costello, but there was not the slightest message to, +or mention of, either her or Lucia. Mr. Leigh examined the letter, +peeped into the envelope, shook the sheets apart (for Maurice's writing +filled much space with few words), but found nothing. The real +explanation of this was simple enough. Maurice had written his note to +Mrs. Costello, and then, just as he was going to put it in the envelope, +was called to his grandfather. In getting up from the table he gave the +note a push, which sent it down into a wastepaper basket. There it lay +unnoticed, and when he came back, just in time to send off his letters, +he fancied, not seeing it, that he had put it into the envelope, which +accordingly he closed and sent to the post without it. But of course +Mr. Leigh knew nothing about this. + +The second letter was equally without enclosure or message, though from +a very different cause. It was scarcely a dozen lines in length, and +only said that Mr. Beresford was dying. Maurice had just received Mrs. +Costello's farewell note; he was feeling angry and grieved, and could +think of no better expedient than to keep silence for the moment, even +if he had had time to renew his expostulations. He had not fully +comprehended the secret Mrs. Costello entrusted to him, but in the +preoccupations of the moment, he put off all concerns but those of the +dying man until he should have more leisure to attend to them. Thus, by +a double chance, Mr. Leigh was allowed to persuade himself that Maurice +had either never had any absorbing interest in the Costellos, or that +his interest in them was being gradually supplanted by others. In this +opinion, and in a curiously uncomfortable and contradictory humour, his +friends found him when they came back from the island. + +Mrs. Costello, on her part, had been entirely unable to keep Maurice out +of her thoughts. As Christian's death, and all the agitation consequent +upon it, settled back into the past, she had plenty of leisure and +plenty of temptation to revert to her old hopes and schemes. Half +consciously she had allowed herself to build up a charming fabric of +possibilities. _Possibly_ Maurice might write and say, "It is Lucia I +love, Lucia I want to marry. It matters nothing to me what her father is +or was." (Quixotic and not-to-be-counted-upon piece of generosity!) +_Possibly_ she herself might then be justified in answering, "The +accusation brought against her father has been proved false--my child is +stainless--and you have proved your right to her;" and it was +impossible, she believed, that Lucia, hearing all the truth, should not +be touched as they would have her. + +These imaginations, built upon such ardent and long-indulged wishes, +acquired a considerable degree of strength during her visit to Mr. +Strafford; and although a little surprised at not receiving, during her +stay there, the usual weekly note from Maurice which she had calculated +would cross her last important letter on the way, she came home eager to +see Mr. Leigh, and to hear from him the last news from England. + +But when she had paid her visit to her old neighbour, she came back +puzzled, disappointed, and slightly indignant. There was an air of +constraint about Mr. Leigh, especially when he spoke of Maurice, which +was so entirely new as to appear a great deal more significant than it +really was; and this, added to the fact that two letters had been +received, one written before, and the other after the arrival of hers, +neither of which contained so much as a message for her or Lucia, +suddenly suggested to Mrs. Costello that she was a very foolish woman +who was still wasting her wishes and thoughts on plans, the time for +which had gone by, instead of following steadily, and without +hesitation, what her reason told her was the best and most sensible +course. She so far convinced herself that it was time to give up +thinking of Lucia's marriage to Maurice, as to be really in earnest both +in completing her preparations for leaving Canada, and in rejoicing at +the receipt of a letter from her cousin expressing his perfect approval +of her decision to return to Europe. + +This letter even Lucia could not help acknowledge to be thoroughly kind +and kinsmanlike. Mr. Wynter proposed to meet them at Havre, and, if +possible, accompany them to Paris. + +"If you are travelling alone," he said, "I may be of service to you; and +since you have decided on going to France, I should like to see you +comfortably settled there. By that means, too, we shall have plenty of +time to talk over whatever arrangements you wish made with regard to +your daughter. However, I have great hopes that when you find yourself +away from the places where you have suffered so much, and near your own +people, you will grow quite strong again." + +There were messages from his wife and daughters, in conclusion, which +seemed to promise that they also would be ready to welcome their unknown +relatives. + +"Blood is thicker than water." Mrs. Costello began to feel that the one +secure asylum for Lucia, in her probable orphanhood, would be in the old +house by the Dee. + +The next time she saw Mr. Leigh, she told him her plans quite frankly. +She did so with some suspicion of his real feelings, only that in spite +of their long acquaintance she did him the injustice to fancy that he +would, for reasons of his own, be glad that Lucia should be out of +Maurice's way if he returned to Canada. She supposed that he had, on +reflection, begun to shrink from the idea of a half-Indian +daughter-in-law, and while she confessed to herself that the feeling +was, according to ordinary custom, reasonable enough, she was at heart +extremely angry that it should be entertained. + +"My beautiful Lucia!" she said to herself indignantly; "as if she were +not ten times more lovely, and a thousand times more worth loving, than +any of those well-born, daintily brought up, pretty dolls, that Lady +Dighton is likely to find for him! I did think better of Maurice. But, +of course, it is all right enough. I had no right to expect him to be +more than mortal." + +And Lucia went on in the most perfect unconsciousness of all the +troubled thoughts circling round her. She spoke honestly of her regret +at leaving Canada when, perhaps, Maurice might so soon be there, though +she kept to herself the hopes which made her going so much less sad than +it would have been otherwise. She was extremely busy, for Mrs. Costello, +now that she thought no more of returning to the Cottage, had decided to +sell it; all their possessions, therefore, had to be divided into three +parts, the furniture to be sold with the house, their more personal +belongings to go with them, and various books and knickknacks to be left +as keepsakes with their friends. It was generally known now all over +Cacouna that Mrs. Costello was going "home," in order that Lucia might +be near her relations in case of "anything happening,"--a thing nobody +doubted the probability of, who saw the change made during the last few +months in their grave and quiet neighbour. They were a little vague in +their information about these relations, but that was a matter of +secondary importance; and as the mother and daughter were really very +much liked by their neighbours, they were quite overwhelmed with +invitations and visits. + +So the days passed on quickly; and for the second time, the one fixed +for their journey was close at hand. One more letter had arrived from +Maurice, containing the news of his grandfather's death. It was short, +like the previous one, and almost equally hurried. He said that he was +struggling through the flood of business brought upon him by his +accession to estates so large, and till lately so zealously cared for by +their possessor. As soon as ever he could get away, he meant to start +for Canada; and as the time of his doing so depended only on his +success in hurrying on certain affairs which were already in hand, his +father might expect him by any mail except the first after his letter +arrived. There was no message to Mrs. Costello in this note, but, on the +other side of the half sheet which held the conclusion of it, was a +postscript hastily scrawled, + +"Tell Mrs. Costello to remember the last talk we had together, and to +believe that I am obstinate." + +This postscript, however, Mr. Leigh in his excitement and joy at the +prospect of so soon seeing his son, never found out. He read the letter +twice over, and then put it away in his desk, without even remembering +at the moment, to wonder at Maurice's continued silence towards his old +friends. The thought did strike him afterwards, but he was quite certain +that he had read every word of the letter, and was only confirmed in the +ideas he had begun to entertain. He sighed over these ideas, and over +the loss of Lucia, whom he loved with almost fatherly affection; but +still, even she was infinitely less dear to him than Maurice; and if +Maurice really did not care for her, why then, sooner than throw the +smallest shadow of blame upon him, _he_ would not seem to care for her +either. + +So Mrs. Costello learned that Maurice was coming, and that he had not +thought it worth while to send even a word to his old friends. + +"He is the only one," she thought, "who has changed towards us, and I +trusted him most of all." + +And she took refuge from her disappointment in anger. Her disappointment +and her anger, however, were both silent; she would not say an ill word +to Lucia of Maurice; and Lucia, engrossed in her work and her +anticipations, did not perhaps remark that there was any change. She +made one attempt to persuade her mother to delay their journey until +after Maurice's arrival, but, being reminded that their passage was +taken, she consoled herself with, + +"Well, it will be easy enough for him to come to see us. I suppose +everybody in England goes to Paris sometimes?" + +And so the end came. They had not neglected Maurice's charge, though +Maurice seemed to have forgotten them. Whatever was possible to do to +provide for Mr. Leigh's comfort during his short solitude they had +done. The last farewells were said; Mr. Strafford, who had insisted on +going with them to New York, had arrived at the Cottage. Mrs. Bellairs +and Bella had spent their last day with their friends and gone away in +tears. All their life at Cacouna, with its happiness and its sorrow, was +over, and early next morning they were to cross the river for the last +time, and begin their journey to England. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Maurice had full opportunity for the exercise of patience during the +last weeks of his grandfather's life. It was hard to sit there day after +day watching the half-conscious old man, who lay so still and seemed so +shut out from human feelings or sympathies, and to feel all the while +that any one of those hours of vigil might be the one that stole from +him his heart's desire. Yet there was no alternative. His grandfather, +who had received and adopted him, was suffering and solitary, dependent +wholly on him for what small gratification he could still enjoy. +Gratitude, therefore, and duty kept him here. But _there_, meanwhile, so +far out of his reach, what might be going on? He lived a perfectly +double life. Lucia was in trouble--some inexplicable shadow of disgrace +was threatening her--something so grave that even her mother, who knew +him so well, thought it an unsurmountable barrier between +them--something which looked the more awful from its vagueness and +mystery. It is true that he was only troubled--not discouraged by the +appearance of this phantom. He was as ready to fight for his Una as ever +was Redcross Knight--but then would his Una wait for him? To be forcibly +held back from the combat must have been much worse to a true champion +than any wounds he could receive in fair fight. So at least it seemed to +Maurice, secretly chafing, and then bitterly reproaching himself for his +impatience; yet the next moment growing as impatient as before. + +To him in this mood came Mrs. Costello's last letter. Now at last the +mystery was cleared up, and its impalpable shape reduced to a positive +and ugly reality. Like his father, Maurice found no small difficulty in +understanding and believing the story told to him. That Mrs. Costello, +calm, gentle, and just touched with a quiet stateliness, as he had +always known her, could ever have been an impulsive, romantic girl, so +swayed by passion or by flattery as to have left her father's house and +all the protecting restraints of her English life to follow the fortunes +of an Indian, was an idea so startling that he could not at once accept +it for truth. In Lucia the incongruity struck him less. Her beauty, dark +and magnificent, her fearless nature, her slender erect shape, her free +and graceful movements--all the charms which he had by heart, suited an +Indian origin. He could readily imagine her the daughter of a chief and +a hero. But this was not what he was required to believe. He had read +lately the description of a brutal, half-imbecile savage, who had +committed a peculiarly frightful and revolting murder, and he was told +to recognize in this wretch the father of his darling. But it was just +this which saved him. He would believe that Christian was Mrs. +Costello's husband and Lucia's father, because Mrs. Costello told him so +herself and of her own knowledge--but as for a murder, innocent men were +often accused of that; and when a man is once accused by the popular +voice of a horrible crime, everybody knows how freely appropriate +qualities can be bestowed on him. So the conviction which remained at +the bottom of Maurice's mind, though he never drew it up and looked +steadily at it, was just the truth--that Christian, by some train of +circumstances or other, had been made to bear the weight of another +person's guilt. As to the other question of his giving up Lucia, Maurice +never troubled himself to think about it. He was, it must be confessed, +of a singularly obstinate disposition, and in spite of his legal +training not particularly inclined to listen to reason. Knowing +therefore perfectly well, that he had made up his mind to marry Lucia, +provided she did not deliberately prefer somebody else, he felt it +useless to complicate his already confused ideas any further, by taking +into consideration the expediency of such a connection. There was quite +enough to worry him without that; and by some inconceivable stupidity it +never entered his head that, while he was really so completely incapable +of altering his mind, other people should seriously think he was doing +it. + +Yet as he read Mrs. Costello's letter over a second time, he began to +perceive something in its tone which seemed to say clearly--"Don't +flatter yourself that the matter rests at all with you. I have decided. +I am no longer your ally, but your opponent." At this a new element came +into play--anger. + +He had been rather unreasonable before--now he became utterly so. "A +pretty sort of fellow she must think me, after all," he said to himself. +"I suppose she'd be afraid to trust Lucia to me now. However, if she +thinks I mean to be beaten that way, she'll find that she is mistaken." + +He was walking up and down his room, and working himself up into a +greater ill-humour with every turn he made. + +"If I could only get to Lucia herself," he went on thinking, "I should +see if I could not end the matter at once, one way or the other--that +fellow is clear out of the way now, and I believe I should have a +chance; but as for Mrs. Costello, she seems to think nothing at all of +throwing me over whenever it suits her." + +Poor Maurice! he sat down to write to his father in a miserable +mood--Mr. Beresford had become suddenly and decidedly worse. The doctors +said positively that he was dying, and that a few days at the utmost +would bring the end. Maurice had stolen away while he slept, but his +angry meditation on Mrs. Costello's desertion had taken up so much of +his time, that Mr. Leigh's note was short and hurried. Ill-humour +prevailed also to the point of the note being finished without any +message (he had no time to write separately) to the Cottage. + +His packet despatched, he returned to his grandfather's room. Lady +Dighton, now staying in the house, sat and watched by the bedside; and +by-and-by leaving her post, she joined Maurice by the window and began +to talk to him in a low voice. There was no fear of disturbing the +invalid; his sleep continued, deep and lethargic, the near forerunner of +death. + +"Maurice," Lady Dighton said, "I wish you would go out for an hour. You +are not really wanted here, and you look worn out." + +"Thank you, I am all right. My grandfather might wake and miss me." + +"Go for a little while. Half an hour's gallop would do you good." + +Maurice laughed impatiently. + +"Why should I want doing good to? It is you, I should think, who ought +to go out." + +"I was out yesterday. Are you still anxious about your father and +Canada?" + +Lady Dighton's straightforward question meant to be answered. + +"Yes," Maurice said rather crossly. "I am anxious and worried." + +"You can do no good by writing?" + +"I seem to do harm. Don't talk to me about it, Louisa. Nothing but my +being there could have done any good, and now it is most likely too +late." + +She saw plainly enough the fight that was going on--impatience, +eagerness, selfishness of a kind, on one side--duty and compassion on +the other. She had no scruple about seeing just as much of her cousin's +humour as his looks and manner could tell her, and she perceived that at +the moment it was anything but a good or heroic one. She thought it +possible that it would have been a relief to him to have struck, or +shaken, or even kicked something or somebody; and yet she was not at all +tempted to think the worse of him. She did not understand, of course, +the late aggravations of his trouble; but she knew that he loved loyally +and thought his love in danger, and she gave him plenty of sympathy, +whatever that might be worth. She had obtained a considerable amount of +influence over him, and used it, in general, for his good. At present he +was in rather an unmanageable mood, but still she did not mean to let +him escape her. + +"He looks dreadfully worried, poor boy!" she said to herself. "Being +shut up here day after day must be bad for him. I shall _make_ Sir John +take him out to-morrow." + +But when to-morrow came, and Sir John paid his daily visit to his wife, +she had other things to think about. He found the servants lingering +about the halls and staircases in silent excitement, and in the sick +room a little group watching, as they stood round the bed, for the old +man's final falling asleep. + +He had been conscious early in the morning, and spoken to both his +grandchildren; but gradually, so very gradually that they could not say +"he changed at such an hour," the heavy rigidity of death closed upon +his already paralysed limbs, and his eyes grew dimmer. It was a very +quiet peaceful closing of a long life, which, except that it had been +sometimes hard and proud, had passed in usefulness and honour. And so, +towards sunset, some one said, "He is gone," and laid a hand gently upon +the stiffening eyelids. + +Sir John took his wife away to her room, and there she leaned her head +against his shoulder and cried, not very bitterly, but with real +affection for her grandfather. Maurice went away also, very grave, and +thinking tenderly of the many kind words and deeds which had marked the +months of his stay at Hunsdon. And yet within half an hour, Lady Dighton +was talking to her husband quite calmly about some home affairs which +interested him; and Maurice had begun to calculate how soon he could get +away for that long-deferred six weeks' absence. + +But, of course, although they could not keep their thoughts prisoners, +these mourners, who were genuine mourners after their different degrees, +were constrained to observe the decorous, quiet, and interregnum of all +ordinary occupation, which custom demands after a death. Lady Dighton +returned home next day, hidden in her carriage, and went to shut herself +up in her own house until the funeral. Maurice remained at Hunsdon, +where he was now master, and spent his days in the library writing +letters, or trying to make plans for his future, and it was then that +the letter with his lost message to Mrs. Costello was sent off. + +Yet the space between Mr. Beresford's death and his funeral was to his +heir a tedious and profitless blank. He had till now been kept here by +living powers, gratitude and reverence; death came, and handed his +custody over to cold but tyrannous propriety. Now he rebelled with all +his heart, and spent hours of each solitary day in pacing backwards and +forwards the whole space of the great dim room which seemed a prison to +him. + +The day before the funeral broke this stillness, two or three gentlemen, +distant relations or old friends of his grandfather, came to Hunsdon, +and towards evening there arrived the family solicitor, Mr. Payne. At +dinner that day Maurice had to take his new position as host. It was, as +suited the circumstances, a grave quiet party, but still there was +something about the manner of the guests, and even in the fact of their +being _his_ guests, which was unconsciously consoling to Maurice as +being a guarantee of his freedom and independence. Next morning the +house was all sombre bustle and preparation. Lady Dighton and her +husband arrived. She, to have one last look at the dead, he to join +Maurice in the office of mourner; and at twelve o'clock, the long +procession wound slowly away through the park, and the great house stood +emptied of the old life and ready for the commencement of the new one. + +The new one began, indeed, after those who had followed Mr. Beresford +to the grave had come back, and assembled in the great unused +drawing-room to hear the will read. Lady Dighton shivered as she sat by +one of the newly-lighted fires, and bending over to Maurice whispered to +him, "For heaven's sake keep the house warmer than poor grandpapa used +to do." + +"Used" already! The new life had begun. + +There was nothing in the will but what was pretty generally known. Mr. +Beresford had made no secret of his intentions even with regard to +legacies. There was one to his granddaughter, with certain jewels and +articles which had peculiar value for her; some to old friends, some to +servants, and the whole remainder of his possessions real and personal +to Maurice Leigh, on the one condition of his assuming the name and arms +of Beresford. + +It was a very satisfactory will. Maurice, in his impatience, thought its +chief virtue was that it contained nothing which could hinder him from +starting at once for Canada. He told Mr. Payne that he wished to see him +for a short time that evening; and after the other guests had gone to +bed, the two sat down together by the library fire to settle, as he +fancied, whatever small arrangements must be made before his going. + +He soon found out his mistake. In the first place the solicitor, who had +a powerful and hereditary interest in the affairs of Hunsdon, was +shocked beyond expression at the idea of such a voyage being undertaken +at all. Here, he would have said if he had spoken his thoughts, was a +young man just come into a fine estate, a magnificent estate in fact, +and one of the finest positions in the country, and the very first thing +he thinks of, is to hurry off on a long sea-voyage to a half-barbarous +country, without once stopping to consider that if he were to be +drowned, or killed in a railway accident, or lost in the woods, the +estate might fall into Chancery, or at the best go to a woman. Mr. Payne +mentally trembled at such rashness, and he expressed enough of the +horror he felt, to make Maurice aware that it really was a less simple +matter than he had supposed, and that his new fortunes had their claims +and drawbacks. Mr. Payne followed up his first blow with others. He +immediately began to ask, "If you go, what do you wish done in such a +case?" And the cases were so many that Maurice, in spite of the +knowledge Mr. Beresford had made him acquire of his affairs, became +really puzzled and harassed. Finally, he saw that a delay of a week +would be inevitable; and the solicitor, having gained the day so far, +relented, and allowed him to hope that after a week's application to +business, he would be in a position to please himself. + +Next day Maurice was left alone at Hunsdon. He wrote his last letter to +his father, and being determined to follow it himself so shortly, he +sent no message to the Costellos. Then he set to work hard and steadily +to clear the way for his departure. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +One day Maurice rode over to Dighton, and told his cousin he was come to +say good-bye. She was not, of course, surprised to hear that he was +really going, but she could not help expressing her wonder at the +lightness with which he spoke of a journey of so many thousand miles. + +"You talk of going to Canada," she said, "just as I should talk of going +to Paris--as if it were an affair of a few hours." + +"If it were six times as far," he answered, "it would make no difference +to me, except that I should be more impatient to start; and yet most +likely when I get there I shall find my journey useless." + +Somehow or other there had come to be a tolerably clear understanding, +on Lady Dighton's part, of the state of affairs between Maurice and +Lucia--she knew that Maurice was intent upon finding his old playfellow, +and winning her if possible at once. She naturally took the part of her +new favourite; and believed that if Lucia were really what he described +her, she would easily be persuaded to come to Hunsdon as its mistress; +for, of course, she knew of no other barrier between the young people +than that of Maurice's newly acquired importance. She thought Mrs. +Costello had acted in a prudent and dignified manner in wishing to +separate them; but she also thought, in rather a contradictory fashion, +that since Maurice was intent upon the marriage, he ought to have his +own way. So she was quite disposed to encourage him with auguries of +success. + +"They are not likely to be in any hurry to begin a sea-voyage such +weather as this," she said, shivering. "Two ladies, even if they are +Canadians, can't make quite so light of it as you do." + +"I wish you may be right," he answered; "but if I should not find them +there, I shall bring my father to England and then go off in search of +them. A pretty prospect! They may lead me all over Europe before I find +them." + +Lady Dighton laughed outright. + +"One would suppose that telegraphs and railways were not in existence," +she said, "and that you had to set out, like a knight-errant, with +nothing but a horse and a sword to recover your runaway lady-love." + +Maurice felt slightly offended, but thought better of it, and laughed +too. + +"I shall find them, no fear," he answered; "but when? and where?" + +Next morning he left Hunsdon, and went to London. The moment he was +really moving, his spirits rose, and his temper, which had been +considerably disturbed lately, recovered itself. He scarcely stopped at +all, till he found himself that afternoon at the door of the solicitor's +office, where he had some affairs to attend to. + +He got out of his cab and to the lawyer's door, as if everything +depended on his own personal speed; but just as he went up the steps, +the door opened, and a clerk appeared, showing a gentleman out. Even in +the midst of Maurice's hurry, something familiar in the figure struck +him; he looked again--it was Percy. They recognized each other; at the +same moment, by a common impulse, they saluted each other ceremoniously +and passed on their different ways. + +Maurice was expected, and he found Mr. Payne ready to receive him. +Instead, however, of plunging at once into business as, a minute ago, he +was prepared to do, he asked abruptly. "Is Mr. Percy a client of yours?" + +"I can hardly say that," the lawyer answered, surprised by the question. + +"I met him going out," Maurice went on. + +Mr. Payne rubbed his hands. + +"It is no secret," he said; "I may tell you, I suppose. He called about +some points in a marriage settlement." + +Maurice felt his heart give a great leap. + +"Whose?" he asked sharply. + +Mr. Payne again looked surprised. + +"His own, certainly. He is going to marry a daughter of the Earl of +C----, and I had the honour of being employed by the late Countess's +family, from whom her ladyship derives what fortune she has. It is not +very large," he added, dropping from his dignified tone into a more +confidential one. + +Maurice was silent for a minute. His sensations were curious; divided +between joy that Lucia was certainly free in _this_ quarter, and a +vehement desire to knock down, horsewhip, or otherwise ill-use the +Honourable Edward Percy. Of course, this was a savage impulse, only +worthy of a half-civilized backwoodsman, but happily he kept it down out +of sight, and his companion filled up the pause. + +"The marriage is to take place in a week. The engagement has been +hastily got up, they say, at last; though there was some talk of it a +year ago. He does not seem particularly eager about it now." + +"What is he marrying her for?" was Maurice's next question, put with an +utter disregard of all possibilities of sentiment in the matter--the man +whom Lucia _might_ have loved could not but be indifferent to all other +women. + +"It's not a bad match," Mr. Payne answered, putting his head on one side +as if to consider it critically. "Not much money, but a good +connection--excellent." + +Whereupon they dismissed Percy and his affairs, and went to work. + +Late that night, for no reason but because he could not rest in London, +Maurice started for Liverpool. The steamer did not sail till afternoon, +and there would have been plenty of time for him to go down in the +morning; but he chose do otherwise, and consequently found himself in +the streets of Liverpool in the miserable cold darkness of the winter +dawn. Of course, there was nothing to be done then, but go to a hotel +and get some breakfast and such warmth as was to be had. He felt cross +and miserable, and half wished he had stayed in London. + +However the fire burnt up, breakfast came, and the dingy fog began to +roll away a little from before the windows. He went out and walked about +the city. He stared at the public buildings without seeing them; then at +the shop-windows, till he suddenly found himself in front of a +jeweller's, and it occurred to him that he would go in and buy a ring +which would fit a slender finger in case of need. He went in +accordingly, and after looking at some dozens, at last fixed upon one. +He knew the exact size, for he had once taken a ring of Lucia's and +tried to put it on his little finger; it would not go over the middle +joint, but persisted in sticking fast just where the one he bought +stopped. It was a magnificent little affair--almost enough to bribe a +girl to say "Yes" for the pleasure of wearing it, and Maurice +congratulated himself on the happy inspiration. Being in a tempting +shop, he also bethought himself of carrying out with him some trifling +gifts for his old friends; and by the time he had finished his +selection, he found to his great satisfaction that he might return to +the hotel for his luggage, and go on board ship at once. + +The small steamer which was to carry the passengers out to the 'India' +was already beginning to take on her load when Maurice arrived. The fog, +which had partially cleared away in the town, lay heavy and brown over +the river; the wet dirty deck, the piles of luggage, and groups of +people were all muffled in it, and looked shapeless and miserable in the +gloom. Hurry and apparent confusion were to be seen everywhere, but only +for a short time. The loading was soon completed, and they moved away +into the river. + +Then came another transfer--passengers, trunks, mail-bags all poured on +to the 'India's' deck. Last farewells were said--friends parted, some +for a few weeks, some for ever--the great paddles began to move, and the +voyage was begun. + +As they went down the river, snow began to fall. It filled the air and +covered the deck with wet, slowly moving flakes, and the water which +swallowed it up all round the ship looked duller and darker by contrast. +Everybody went below, most people occupied themselves with arranging +their possessions so as to be most comfortable during the voyage; +Maurice, who had few possessions to arrange, took out that morning's +_Times_, and sat down to read. + +The first two or three days of a voyage are generally nearly a blank to +landsmen. Maurice was no exception to the rule. Even Lucia commanded +only a moderate share of his thoughts till England and Ireland were +fairly out of sight, and the 'India' making her steady course over the +open ocean. Then he began to watch the weather as eagerly as if the +ship's speed and safety had depended on his care. Every day he went, the +moment the notice was put up, to see what progress they had made since +the day before, and, according as their rate of movement was slower or +faster, his day and night were serene or disturbed. + +The number of passengers was small. With what there were he soon formed +the kind of acquaintance which people shut up together for a certain +time generally make with each other. Everybody was eager for the +conclusion of the voyage, for the weather, though on the whole fine, was +intensely cold, and only the bravest or hardiest could venture to spend +much time on deck. Down below every device for killing time was in +requisition; but in spite of all, the question, "When shall we reach New +York?" was discussed over and over again; and each indication of their +voyage being by a few hours shorter than they had a right to expect, was +hailed with the greatest delight. + +One day when they were really near the end of their voyage, Maurice and +a fellow-passenger, a young man of about his own age, were walking +briskly up and down the deck, trying to keep themselves warm, and +talking of Canada, to which they were both bound. A sailor who had come +for some purpose to the part of the deck where they were, suddenly +called their attention to a curl of smoke far off on the horizon; it was +something homeward bound, he said--he could not tell what, but they +would most likely pass near each other. + +The two young men had been thinking of going down, but the idea of +meeting a ship of any kind was sufficient excitement to keep them on +deck. They continued their walk, stopping every now and then to watch +the smoke as it grew more and more distinct. Presently the steamer +itself became visible, and other persons began to assemble and guess +what steamer it could be and how long it would be before they passed +each other. Meanwhile the stranger came nearer and nearer; at last it +could be recognized--the 'Atalanta,' from New York to Havre. Maurice +borrowed a glass from one of the officers, and, going a little apart +from the group on the deck of the 'India,' set himself to examine that +of the 'Atalanta.' A sudden feeling of dismay had seized upon him. He +had no more reason to suppose that Lucia was on board this steamer than +he had to believe that she had sailed a week ago, or that she was still +at Cacouna, and yet a horrible certainty took possession of him that, if +he could only get on board that ship, so tantalizingly close at hand and +yet so utterly inaccessible, he should find her there. He strained his +eyes in the vain effort to distinguish her figure. He almost stamped +with disappointment when he found that the distance was too great, or +his glass not sufficiently powerful, for the forms he could just see, to +be recognizable; and as the two steamers passed on, and the distance +between them grew every moment greater, he hurried down to his cabin, +not caring that any one should see how disturbed he was. He threw +himself upon his little sofa, thinking. + +"I wonder if she suspected I was so near her. I wonder whether she +looked for me as I looked for her. Not _as_ I did, of course, for she is +everything to me, and I am only an old friend to her; but yet I think +she would have been sorry to miss me by so little. + +"What an idiot I am! when I have not even the smallest notion whether +she could be on board or not. Very likely I shall find them still at the +dear old Cottage." + +But after his soliloquy he shook his head in a disconsolate manner, and +betook himself to a novel by way of distraction. + +Two more days and they reached New York. They got in early in the +morning, and Maurice, the moment he found himself on shore, hurried to +the railway station. On inquiry there, however, he found that to start +immediately would be, in fact, rather to lose, than to gain time. A +train starting that evening would be his speediest conveyance; and for +that he resolved to wait. He then turned to a telegraph office, +intending to send a message to his father, but on second thoughts +abandoned that idea also, considering that Mr. Leigh already expected +him, and that further warning could do no good and might do harm. + +He spent the day, he scarcely knew how. He dined somewhere, and read the +newspapers. He found himself out in the middle of reading with the +greatest appearance of interest an article copied from the _Times_ which +he had read in England weeks before. He looked perpetually at his watch, +and when, at last, he found that his train would be due in half an hour, +he started up in the greatest haste, and drove to the station as if he +had not a moment to spare. + +What a Babel the car seemed when he did get into it! There were numbers +of women and children, not a few babies. It was bitterly cold, and +everybody was anxious to settle themselves at once for the night. +Everybody was talking, sitting down, and getting up again, turning the +seats backwards and forwards to suit their parties, or their fancies, +soothing the shivering, crying children, or discussing the probability +of being impeded by the snow. But when the train was fairly in motion, +when the conductor had made his progress through the cars, when +everybody had got their tickets, and there was no more to be done, all +subsided gradually into a dull sleepy quiet, broken occasionally by a +child's cry, but still undisturbed enough to let those passengers who +did not care to sleep, think in peace. + +Maurice thought, uselessly, but persistently. He thought of the past, +when he had been quite happy, looking forward to a laborious life with +Lucia to brighten it. He thought of the future which must now have one +of two aspects--either cold, matter-of-fact and solitary, in the great +empty house at Hunsdon without Lucia, or bright and perfect beyond even +his former dreams, in that same great old house with her. He meant to +win her, however, sooner or later, and the real trouble which he feared +at present was nothing worse than delay. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Mrs. Costello and Lucia found their journey from Cacouna to New York a +very melancholy one. They had gone through so much already, that change +and travel had no power to stimulate their overstrained nerves to any +further excitement; the time of reaction had begun, and a sort of +languid indifference, which was in itself a misery, seemed to have taken +possession of them. Even Lucia's spirits, generally strong both for +enjoyment or for suffering, were completely subdued; she sat by the +window of the car looking out at the wintry landscape all day long, yet +saw nothing, or remembered nothing that she had seen. Once or twice she +thought, "Perhaps in a few days more, Maurice will be passing over this +very line; he will be disappointed when he reaches home and finds that +we are gone;" but all her meditations were dreamy and unreal--her mind +acted mechanically. A kind of moral catalepsy benumbed her. Afterwards +when she remembered this time, she wondered at herself; she could not +comprehend the absence of sensation with which she had left the dear +home and all the familiar objects of her whole life, the incapability of +feeling either keen sorrow at the parting, or hope in the unknown +future. The days they spent in hurrying hour by hour further away from +Canada, always remained in her recollection little more than a blank, +and she scarcely seemed to recover herself until Mr. Strafford touched +her gently on the shoulder, late in the evening and said, + +"New York at last, Lucia." + +She got up then, in a hurried, confused way, and looked at her mother +helplessly. + +Mrs. Costello, though to some degree she had shared Lucia's stunned +feeling during their journey, had watched her child with considerable +anxiety, and was glad of any change in her manner. She hastened to leave +the train, thinking that the few hours' rest they would have before +going on board the steamer would be the best remedy for this strange +torpor. They found, however, when they reached the Hotel and went to +bed, that weary as they were, they could not sleep. The unaccustomed +noise of the city--the mere sensation of being in a strange place, kept +them both waking, and they were glad to get up early, and go down to the +vast empty drawing-room where Mr. Stafford could join them for the last +time, and talk of the subjects which were near the hearts of all three. +And yet, after all, they did not talk much. Those last hours which are +so precious, and in which we seem to have so much to say, are often +silent ones. + +The great house, like a city in itself, with its wide passages and +halls, and groups of strangers passing constantly to and fro, had +something dismal and desert like about it. Even the drawing-room was so +large and so destitute of anything like a snug corner where people could +be comfortable, that there was little chance of forgetting that they +were mere wayfarers. When the gong had sounded, and everybody assembled +for breakfast, the vast dining-room, coldly magnificent in white and +gold, and all astir with white jacketed waiters, seemed stranger and +more unhomelike still. Everything was novel, but for once novelty only +wearied instead of charming. + +By noon they were on board the steamer. Mr. Strafford went on board with +them and stayed till the last minute. But that soon came. The final +good-bye was said; the last link to Canada and Canadian life was broken. +They stood on deck and strained their eyes to watch the fast +disappearing figure till it was gone, and they felt themselves alone. +Then the vessel began to move out of the harbour, and night seemed to +come on all at once. + +They went down together to their cabin, and seated themselves side by +side in a desolate companionship. After a minute Lucia put her arms +tightly round her mother, and laying her head upon her shoulder, cried, +not passionately, but with a complete abandonment of all self-restraint. +Mrs. Costello did not try to check those natural and restoring tears. +She soothed her child by fond motherly touches, kissed her cheek or +smoothed her hair, but said not a word until the whole dull weight that +had been pressing on her had melted away. There was something strangely +forlorn in their circumstances which both felt, and neither liked to +speak of to the other. Leaving behind all the friends, all the +associations of so many years, they were going alone--a feeble and +perhaps dying woman, and a young girl--into a strange world, where every +face would be new, and even their own language would grow unfamiliar to +their ears. Even the hope which had brightened this prospect to Lucia's +eyes, looked very dim, now that the time for proving it was at hand; and +of all others, the person who occupied her tenderest if not her most +frequent thoughts was the one who best deserved that she should think of +him--Maurice Leigh. + +Two days of their voyage passed without events. They began to feel +accustomed to their ship-life, and to make some little acquaintance with +other passengers. In spite of the cold, Lucia spent a good many hours on +deck. She used to go with Mrs. Costello every morning for a few quick +turns up and down, and then, when her mother was tired, she would wrap +herself up in the warmest cloaks and shawls that she could find, and +take her seat in a quiet corner, where she could lose sight of all that +went on about her and, with her face turned towards Canada, see nothing +but the boundless sea and sky. On the third day she was sitting in this +manner. There were a good many persons on deck but she was left +tolerably undisturbed. Occasionally a lady would stop and speak to +her--the men, who were not altogether blind to her beauty, would have +liked perhaps to do the same, if her preoccupied air had not made a kind +of barrier about her, too great to be broken through without more +warrant than a two days' chance association; but she was thinking or +dreaming, and never troubled herself about them. + +The day was very bright, and there was a ceaseless pleasure in watching +the ripples of the sea as they rose into the cold silvery sunlight and +then passed on into the shadow of the ship; or in tracing far away, the +broad even track marked by edges of tiny bubbles, where the vessel's +course had been. Gradually she became aware through her abstraction of a +greater stir and buzz of conversation on the deck behind her; she +turned, and seeing everybody looking in one direction, rose and looked +too. A lady standing beside her said, + +"It is the Cunard steamer for New York. We think there are some friends +of ours on board, but I am afraid we shall not pass near enough to find +out." + +"Oh, how I wish we could!" Lucia answered, now thoroughly roused, for +the idea that Maurice also might be on board suddenly flashed into her +mind. + +She leaned forward over the railing of the deck, and caught sight of the +'India' coming quickly in the opposite direction, and could even +distinguish the black mass of her passengers assembled like those of the +'Atalanta' to watch the passing vessel. But that was all. Telescopes and +even opera-glasses were being handed from one to another, but she was +too shy to ask for the loan of one, though she longed for it, just for a +moment. Certainly it would have been useless. At that very time Maurice, +standing on the 'India's' deck, was straining his eyes to catch but one +glimpse of her, and all in vain. Fate had decided that they were to pass +each other unseen. + +But this little incident made Lucia sadder and more dreamy--more unlike +herself--than before. The voyage was utterly monotonous. In spite of the +season, the weather was calm and generally fine; and they made good +progress. The days when an unbroken expanse of sea lay round them were +not many, and on the second Sunday afternoon land was already in sight. +That day was unusually mild. Mrs. Costello and Lucia came up together +about two o'clock, and, after walking up and down for some time, they +sat down to watch the distant misty line which they might have thought a +cloud on the horizon, but which was gradually growing nearer and more +distinct. + +While they sat, a single bird came flying from the land. Its wings +gleamed like silver in the sunlight, and as it came, flying now higher, +now lower, but always towards the ship, they saw that it was no +sea-bird, but a white pigeon--pure white, without spot or tinge of +colour, like the glittering snow of Canada. It came quite near--it flew +slowly and gracefully round the ship--two or three times, it circled +round and round, and at last alighted on the rigging. There it rested, +till, as the sunlight quite faded away and the distant line of land +disappeared, it took flight again and vanished in the darkness. + +Perhaps the strong elasticity of youth and hope in Lucia's nature had +only waited for some chance touch to set it free, and make it spring up +vigorously after its repression. At any rate she found a fanciful omen +in the visit of the snow-white bird; and began to believe that in the +new country and the new life, there might be as much that was good and +happy as in the old one. The last hours, full of excitement and +impatience as the voyage drew to a close, were not unpleasant ones. Very +early one morning a great commotion and a babel of unusual sounds on +deck awoke the travellers, and the stewardess going from room to room +brought the welcome news, + +"We are at Havre." + +Lucia was up in a moment. The stillness of the vessel, after its +perpetual motion, gave her an odd sensation, not unlike what she had +felt when it first began to move; but she was quickly dressed and on +deck. There were a good many people there, and the water all round was +alive with boats and shipping of every description, but Lucia's eyes +naturally turned from the more familiar objects to the unfamiliar and +welcome sight of land. + +A strange land, truly! The solid quays, the masses of building, older +than anything (except forest-trees) which she had ever seen, the quaint +dresses of the peasants already moving about in the early morning, all +struck her with pleased and vivid interest. For the wider features of +the scene she had at first no thought. Nature is everywhere the same, +through all her changes. To those who love her she is never wholly +unrecognizable, and when we meet her in company with new phases of human +life, we are apt to treat her as the older friend, and let her wait +until we have greeted the stranger. At least, Lucia did so. She had +indeed only time for a hurried survey, for their packing had to be +completed by her hands; and she knew that the arrival of the ship would +soon be known, and that if Mr. Wynter had kept his promise of meeting +them, he might appear at any moment. She went down, therefore, and found +Mrs. Costello dressing with hurried and trembling fingers, too much +agitated by the prospect of meeting her cousin, after so long and +strange a separation, to be capable of attending to anything. + +All was done, however, before they were interrupted. They wrapped +themselves up warmly, for the morning was intensely cold through all its +brightness, and went up on deck together. Lucia found a seat in a +sheltered place for Mrs. Costello, and stood near her watching the +constant stream of coming and going between the ship and the shore. They +had nothing to do for the present but wait, and when they had satisfied +themselves that, as yet, there was no sign of Mr. Wynter's arrival, +they had plenty of time to grow better acquainted with the view around +them. + +The long low point of land beside which they lay; the town in front, +with a flood of cold sunlight resting on its low round tower, and the +white sugar-loaf shaped monument, which was once the sailor's +landmark--the lofty chapel piously dedicated to Notre Dame de Bons +Secours now superseding it--the broad mouth of the Seine and the Norman +shore, bending away to the right--all these photographed themselves on +Lucia's memory as the first-seen features of that new world where her +life was henceforth to be passed. + +At last, when nearly all their fellow-passengers had bidden them +good-bye and left the ship, they saw a gentleman coming on board whom +they both felt by some instinct to be Mr. Wynter. He was a portly, +white-bearded man, as strange to Mrs. Costello as to Lucia, for the last +twenty years had totally changed him from the aspect she remembered and +had described to her daughter. Perhaps his nature as well as his looks +had grown more genial; at any rate, he had a warm and affectionate +greeting for the strangers, and if he had any painful or embarrassing +recollection such as agitated his cousin, he knew how perfectly to +conceal them. He had arrived the day before, but on arriving had heard +that the 'Atalanta' was not expected for twenty-four hours, so that the +news of her being in port came to him quite unexpectedly. He explained +all this as they stood on deck, and then hurried to see their luggage +brought up, and to transfer them to the carriage he had brought from his +hotel. + +Lucia felt herself happily released from her cares. She had no +inclination to like, or depend upon, her future guardian; but without +thinking about it, she allowed him to take the management of their +affairs, and to fall into the same place as Mr. Strafford had occupied +during their American journey. + +Only there was a difference; she was awake now, and hopeful, naturally +pleased with all that was new and curious, and only kept from thorough +light-heartedness by her mother's feeble and fatigued condition. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Mrs. Costello seemed to grow stronger from the moment of their landing. +Mr. Wynter decided without any hesitation that they should remain at +Havre, at least until the next day. In the evening, therefore, they were +sitting quietly together when the important question of a future +residence for the mother and daughter came to be discussed. + +"I should like Lucia to see something of Paris," Mrs. Costello said, +"and to do that we should be obliged to stay a considerable time; for, +as you perceive, I am not strong enough to do much sight-seeing at +present." + +"I see," Mr. Wynter answered, nodding gravely. "We might get you a nice +little apartment there, and settle you for the winter; that would be +the best plan. I suppose you don't mind cold?" + +"That depends entirely on the sort of cold. Yes; I think we should +settle in Paris for a time, and then move into the country. Only I have +a great fancy not to be more than a day's journey from England." + +"In which I sympathize with you. It will be very much more satisfactory +to me to know that you are within a reasonable distance of us." + +Lucia sat and listened very contentedly to the talk of the elder people. +To her, whose only experience of relationship, beyond her mother, was +painful and mortifying, there was something she had not anticipated of +novelty and comfort in this new state of affairs. Her cousin's tone of +kinsmanship and friendliness was so genuine and unforced that she and +her mother both accepted it naturally, and forgot for the moment that, +to a little-minded man, such friendliness might have been difficult and +perhaps impossible. + +They decided to start for Paris next morning, Mr. Wynter saying that he +had arranged for a week's absence from England, and therefore would have +plenty of time to see them fixed in their new residence before he left. +Then the conversation glided to other subjects, and Lucia losing her +interest in it, began to wonder where Percy was--whether they were again +on the same continent--whether he would hear, through the Bellairs, of +their movements--whether he thought of her. And from that point she went +off in some indescribable maze of dreams, recollections, and wishes, +through which there came, as if from a distance, the sound of voices +talking about England--about Chester--about her mother's old home and +old friends--and about her young cousins, the Wynters, and a visit they +were to make to France when spring should have set in. + +In the midst of all, the sound of a great clock striking broke the +stillness of the snowy streets, and, just after, a party of men passed, +singing a clamorous French song, and stamping an accompaniment with +their heavy shoes. Lucia smiled as she listened, and then sighed. In +truth this was a new life, into which nothing of the old one could come +except love and memory. + +Of course, they could not sleep that night. They missed the motion of +the ship, which had lately lulled them; they could not shake off the +impression of strangeness and feel sufficiently at home to forget +themselves; and to Lucia, used to the healthy sleep of eighteen, this +was a much more serious matter than to one who had kept as many vigils +as Mrs. Costello. They appeared, therefore, in the morning to have +changed characters; Lucia was pale and tired, Mrs. Costello seemed +bright and refreshed. + +The rapid and uneventful journey to Paris ended, for the present, their +wanderings. When, on the following day, they started out in search of +apartments, Mrs. Costello looked round her in astonishment. More than +twenty years ago she had really known something of the city; now there +only seemed to be, here and there, an old landmark left to prove that it +was not altogether a new and strange place. Lucia was delighted with +everything. She no sooner saw the long line of the Champs Elysees than +she declared that there, and nowhere else, their rooms must be found. + +"In the city, mamma," she said, "you could not breathe; and as for +sleeping, you know what it was last night; and if we went further out, +we should see nothing." + +Mrs. Costello was too pleased to see her daughter looking and speaking +with something of her old liveliness to be inclined to oppose her +fancies, only she said with a smile, + +"The Champs Elysees is expensive--remember that, Lucia--and I am going +to make you keeper of the purse." + +"Very well, mamma, if it is too dear, of course there is no more to be +said; but you don't object to our trying to get something here, do you?" + +"Decidedly not. Let us try by all means." + +They found apartments readily enough; but to find any suited to their +means was, as Mrs. Costello anticipated, anything but an easy matter. +Lucia began, before the morning was over, to realize the fact that their +L400 a year, which had been a perfectly comfortable income in Canada, +would require very careful management to afford them at all a suitable +living in Paris. + +"It is only for a little while, though," she consoled herself. "In +summer we shall be able to go into the country and find something much +cheaper." + +So they continued their search, and at last found just what they wanted; +though to do so, they had to mount so many stairs that Lucia was afraid +her mother would be exhausted. + +"I do not think this will do, mamma," she said. "I should never dare to +ask you to go out, because when you came in tired, you would have all +this fatigue." + +But the rooms were comfortable and airy, and the difficulties of living +"au cinquieme" were considered on the whole to be surmountable; so the +affair was settled. Then came the minor considerations of a new +housekeeping, and Margery was heartily regretted; though what the good +woman would have been able to do where she could neither understand nor +make herself understood, would not have been easy to say. Even Mrs. +Costello, who, in her youth, had had considerable practice in speaking +French, found herself now and then at a loss; and as for Lucia, having +only a sort of school-girl knowledge of the language, she instantly +found her comprehension swept away in the flood of words poured upon her +by every person she ventured to speak to. "Never mind, I shall soon +learn," she said in the most valiant manner; but, alas! for the present, +she was almost helpless, and Mrs. Costello had to arrange, bargain, and +interpret for both. + +They wound up their day's business by a little shopping, which, like +everything else, was new to Lucia. The splendid shops, lighted up in +the early dusk of the winter afternoon, were as different as anything +could be from the stores at Cacouna. A sudden desire to be possessed of +a purse full of money, which she might empty in these enchanted palaces, +was the immediate and natural effect of the occasion on the mind of such +an unsophisticated visitor. She became, indeed, so completely lost in +admiration, that her mother made her small purchases without being able +to obtain anything but the vaguest and most unsatisfactory opinions on +such trifling affairs. + +Mr. Wynter derived considerable amusement from watching his young cousin +and future ward. He told his wife afterwards that he had begun the day's +work entirely from a sense of duty towards poor Mary; but that for once +he had found that kind of thing almost as amusing as women seemed to do. +The young girl with her half-Indian nature, and wholly Canadian--ultra +Canadian--bringing up, was so bright, simple, and naive, that she was +worth watching. Her wonderful beauty, and the unconscious grace of her +father's people, kept her from ever appearing countrified or awkward; +her simplicity was that of a lovely child, and was in no way discordant +with the higher nature she had shown in the bitter troubles and +perplexities of the past year. She felt safe now and hopeful, +inconceivably, absurdly hopeful--yet there was this difference between +the happiness of long ago and the happiness to-day, that then she +_could_ not believe in sorrow, and now she only _would_ not. + +They went back to their hotel for another night. Next day they moved to +the apartment they had taken, and submitted themselves to the +ministrations of Claudine, their French version of Margery. Submitted is +exactly the right word for Lucia's behaviour, at any rate. Claudine +appeared to her to have an even greater than common facility of speech; +it only needed a single hesitating phrase to open the floodgates, and +let out a torrent. Accordingly, until her stock of available French +should increase, Lucia decided to take everything with the utmost +possible quietness. She would devote herself to her mother, and to +becoming a little acquainted with Paris, and give Claudine the fewest +possible occasions for eloquence. + +Before the two days which Mr. Wynter spent with them in their new +dwelling were over, they had begun to feel tolerably settled. In fact, +Lucia's spirits, raised by excitement, were beginning to droop a +little, and her thoughts to make more and more frequent excursions in +search of the friends from whom she was so widely separated. She thought +most, it is true, of Percy, and her fancies about him were +rose-coloured; but she thought, also, a little sadly, of the dear old +home, and the Bellairs and Bella, and even Magdalen Scott, who had been +an old acquaintance, if never a very dear friend. She had many wondering +thoughts, too, about Maurice. Was he still in England? or was he in +Canada? was he at sea? would he come over to see them? would he even +know where to find them if he came? Of these last subjects she spoke +freely to her mother, only she kept utter silence as to Percy. So it +happened that Mrs. Costello, knowing her own estimate of her daughter's +lover, and strangely forgetting not only how different Lucia's had been, +but that in a nature essentially faithful, love increases instead of +dying, through time and absence, comforted herself, and believed that +all was now settled for the best. Neither Percy nor Maurice, it was +evident, would ever be Lucia's husband. Nothing could be more +satisfactory, therefore, than that she should have become indifferent +to the one, and have only a sisterly affection for the other. And yet, +with unconscious perversity, she was not satisfied. She allowed to +herself that Maurice's conduct had been reasonable enough. He had +accepted the common belief that Christian was the murderer of Dr. +Morton; and the conclusion which naturally followed, that Christian's +daughter, beautiful and good though she might be, was not a fit mistress +for Hunsdon; to have done otherwise, would have been Quixotic. Yet in +her heart she was bitterly disappointed. If he had but loved Lucia well +enough to dare to take her with all her inherited shame, how richly he +would have been rewarded when the cloud cleared away! Where would he +find another like her? And now, since Maurice could change, who might +ever be trusted? + +No doubt these meditations were romantic. If Mrs. Costello had been the +mother of half-a-dozen children--a woman living in the midst of a busy, +lively household, where motherly cares and castle-buildings had to be +shared among three or four daughters--she would not have had time to +occupy herself so intensely with the affairs of any one. As it was, +however, this one girl was her life of life; she threw into her +interests the hopes of youth and the experience of middle age. As Lucia +grew up, she had watched with anxiety, with hope, and with fear, for the +coming of that inevitable time when, either for good or evil, she must +love. It had been her fancy that, if Lucia loved Maurice, all would be +well; if she loved any other, all would be ill. But time had passed on, +and brought change; not one thing had happened according to her +anticipations. And she tried to believe that she was glad that it was +so, while a shadow of dissatisfaction lay at the bottom of her heart. + +When Mr. Wynter left Paris, he did so with the comfortable conviction +that his cousins were happily settled; and with the persuasion that, as +they both appeared to have a fair share of common sense, they would soon +forget their past troubles, and be just like other people. + +"I don't like Mary's state of health at present," he said to his wife; +"and, if I am not mistaken, she thinks even worse of it than I do; but +still, rest of mind and body may do a great deal; and now she is really +a widow, and quite safe from any further annoyances, I dare say she will +come round." + +"And her daughter?" asked Mrs. Wynter rather anxiously. "Do you think +she would get on with the girls?" + +"I don't know, I'm sure, my dear. She is not much like them, certainly, +or, indeed, like any English girl. She is wonderfully pretty, but quite +Indian in looks." + +"Poor child! what a pity!" + +"I am not sure about that. She seems a good girl, and Mary says is the +greatest comfort to her, so I suppose she is English at heart; and as +for her black eyes, there is something very attractive about them." + +Mrs. Wynter sighed again. Lucia's beauty, of which it cannot be said +that Mr. Wynter's account was overdrawn, lost all its advantages in her +eyes by being of an Indian type. She could never quite persuade herself +that her husband had not been walking about the streets of Paris with a +handsome young squaw in skins and porcupine quills. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Poor Maurice! He came up the river early one glorious morning, and +standing on the steamboat's deck watched for the first glimpse of the +Cottage. His heart was beating so that he could scarcely see, but he +knew just where to look, and what to look for. At this time of year +there was no hope of seeing the fair figure watching on the verandah as +it had done when he went away, but the curl of smoke from the chimney +would satisfy him and prove that his darling was still in her old home. +He watched eagerly, breathlessly. Everything was so bright, that his +spirits had risen, and he felt almost certain he was in time. There, the +last bend of the river was turned, and now the trees that grew about +the Cottage and his father's house were visible--now the Cottage itself. +But suddenly his heart seemed to grow still--there was the house, there +was the garden where he and Lucia had worked, there was the slope where +they had walked together that last evening--but all was desolate. No +smoke rose from the chimney; and on the verandah, and on every ledge of +the windows snow lay deep and undisturbed; the path to the river was +choked and hidden, and by the little gate the drift had piled itself up +in a high smooth mound. Desolate! + +When the boat stopped at the wharf, there were happily few people about. +Maurice left his portmanteau, and taking the least public way hurried +off homewards. It was too late--that was his only thought; to see his +father, to know when they went, and if possible whither--his only +desire. He strode along the road, seeing and thinking of nothing but +Lucia. There was one chance, they might not yet have left Canada. But +then that ship, and the curious sense of Lucia's nearness which he had +felt when they passed it; she must have been on board! He felt as if he +should go mad when he came to his father's gate and saw all looking just +as usual, quite calm and peaceful under the broad wintry sunshine. He +had only just sense enough at the very last minute to remember that his +father was an invalid to whom the joy of his coming might be a dangerous +shock. As he thought of this he turned round the corner of the house, +and in a moment walked into the kitchen where Mrs. George, the old +housekeeper, was busy washing up the breakfast-things. + +"Law, Mr. Maurice!" cried Mrs. George, and dropped her teacup and her +cloth together--happily both on the table. + +Coming into the familiar room, and seeing the familiar face, brought the +young man a little to himself. He held his impatience in check while he +received Mrs. George's welcome, answered her questions, and asked some +in return. Then he sent her in to tell his father of his arrival, and +began to walk up and down the kitchen while she was away. + +In a minute or two she came out of the sitting-room, and he went in. Mr. +Leigh had had his own troubled thoughts lately, but he forgot them all +when he saw his son. Just at first there was only the sudden agitating +joy of the meeting--the happiness of seeing Maurice so well--so +thoroughly himself and yet improved--of seeing him at home again; but +then came trouble. + +"So they are gone?" he said almost interrupting the first greetings, and +the old man instantly knew that all his fancies had been a mistake, and +that Maurice had come back to find Lucia. + +And they were gone; and he himself had been a coward and a traitor, and +had distrusted his own son and let them go away distrusting him! He saw +it now too late. A painful embarrassment seized him. + +"Yes," he said hesitatingly. "They went a week ago." + +"By New York?" + +"Yes." + +"In the 'Atalanta' for Havre?" + +"Yes. How did you know?" + +"I did not know. I only guessed. Where are they gone?" + +"I do not know. Mrs. Costello said their plans were so uncertain that +she could not tell me." + +"Yet I should have thought, sir, that so old a friend as you might have +had a right to be told what her plans were?" + +"She told no one--except that they would not stay long in any one place +at present." + +Maurice walked to the window and sighed impatiently. + +"A pleasant prospect!" he said, "They may be at the other end of Europe +before I can get back." + +He stood for a minute looking out, and tapping impatiently with his +fingers on the window-sill, while Mr. Leigh watched him, troubled, and a +little inclined to be angry. When he turned round again he had made up +his mind that it was no use to get out of temper, a pretty sure proof +that he was so already, and that the first thing to do was to find out +exactly what his father and everybody else knew about the Costellos. He +sat down, accordingly, with a sort of desperate impatient patience, and +began a cross-examination. + +"Did they leave no message for me?" + +"Nothing in particular. All sorts of kind remembrances; Lucia said you +would be sure to meet some day." + +"Did they never speak of seeing you in England?" + +"Never. On the contrary, my impression is that they had no intention of +going to England." + +"That is strange; yet if they had they would scarcely have gone by +Havre, unless to avoid all chance of meeting me." + +"Why should they do that?" + +Maurice said nothing, he only changed his position and looked at his +father. Mr. Leigh had asked the question suddenly, with the first dawn +of a new idea in his mind, but at his son's silent answer he shrank back +in his chair breathless with dismay. So after all he _had_ been a +traitor! With his mistaken fancies about change and absence, he had been +doing all he could to destroy the very scheme that was dearest to him, +and which he now saw was dearest to Maurice also. And he knew now that +there had been something in Mrs. Costello's manner lately less friendly +to Maurice than was usual. He had done mischief which might be +irreparable. Guilty and miserable, he naturally began to defend himself. + +"If you had only told me!" he said feebly. + +"I had nothing to tell, sir. I went away, as you remember, almost at a +moment's notice, to please you and my grandfather. I could not speak to +Lucia then, because--for various reasons; but I know that Mrs. Costello +was my friend. Afterwards she wrote to me when poor Morton was killed, +and told me some story I could not very well make out, but which of +course made no difference to me. Then came another letter with all the +truth about her marriage, which she seemed to think conclusive, and +which wound up by saying that she meant to take Lucia away--hide her +from me in fact. My grandfather was very ill then, and I had no time to +write to her, but my message just after his death was plain enough, I +thought--what did she say to it?" + +Mr. Leigh dropped his eyes slowly from his son's face, and put his hand +confusedly to his head. + +"What was it?" he said. "I can't remember." + +"Only two or three words. Just that all she could say did not alter the +case, or alter me." + +This was rather a free rendering of the original message, but it was +near enough and significant enough for Mr. Leigh to be quite sure he had +never heard such words before. They would have given him just that key +to his son's heart which he had longed for. + +"You must be mistaken," he answered. "I never received such a message as +that." + +"It was a postscript. I had meant to write to her and had not time." + +"You must have forgotten. You meant to send it." + +"I sent it, I am certain. Have you my letters?" + +"Yes. They are in that drawer." + +Maurice opened the drawer where all his letters had been lovingly +arranged in order. He remembered the look of the one he wanted and +picked it out instantly. + +"There it is, sir," he said, and held out to his father those two +important lines, still unread. Mr. Leigh looked at the paper and then at +Maurice. + +"I never saw it," he replied. "How could I have missed it?" + +"Heaven knows! It is plain enough. And my note, which came in the letter +before that; it was never answered. _That_ may have miscarried too?" + +"There was no note, Maurice, my dear boy; there was no note. I wondered +there was not." + +"And yet I wrote one." + +Maurice was looking at his father in grievous perplexity and vexation, +when he suddenly became aware of the nervous tremor the old man was in. +He went up to him hastily, with a quick impulse of shame and tenderness. + +"Forgive me, father," he said. "I forgot myself and you. Only you cannot +know the miserable anxiety I have been in lately. Now tell me whether it +is true that you are stronger than when I left?" + +He sat down by the easy-chair and tried to talk to his father as if Mrs. +Costello and Lucia had no existence; but Mr. Leigh, though he outwardly +took courage to enjoy all the gladness of their union, was troubled at +heart. It was a grievous disappointment, this coming home of which so +much had been said and thought. No one could have guessed that the young +man had been out into the world to seek his fortune, and had come back +laden with gold, or that the older had just won back again the very +light of his eyes. + +Anxious as Maurice had been to avoid notice at the moment of his arrival +at Cacouna, he had been seen and recognized on the wharf, and the news +of his coming carried to Mr. Bellairs before he had been an hour at +home. So it happened that while the father and son sat together in the +afternoon, and were already discussing the first arrangements for their +return to England, a sleigh drove briskly up to the door, and Mr. and +Mrs. Bellairs came in full of welcomes and congratulations. + +"I knew we might come to-day," Mrs. Bellairs said, still holding her +favourite's hand and scanning his face with her bright eyes. "We shall +not stay long, but it is pleasant to see you home again, Maurice." + +"Don't say too many kind things, Mrs. Bellairs," he answered, "or you +will make me want to stay when I ought to be going." + +"Going! You are surely not talking of that yet?" + +"Indeed I am. We hope to be away in a fortnight." + +"Oh! if you _hope_ it, there is no more to be said." + +"If you knew how I have hoped to be here, and how disappointed I have +been to-day, you would not be so hard on me." + +They had both sat down now and were a little apart, for the moment, from +the others. Mrs. Bellairs was surprised at Maurice's words, though she +understood instantly what he meant. He had never before given her a +single hint in words of his love for Lucia, though she had been +perfectly aware of it. She guessed now that his grandfather's death had +changed his wishes into intentions, and that since he was in a position +to offer Lucia a share of his own good fortune, he no longer cared to +make any secret of his feelings towards her. + +"You did not expect that our friends would be gone," she asked in a tone +which expressed the sympathy she felt and yet could not be taken as +inquisitive. As for Maurice, he wanted to speak out his trouble to +somebody, and was glad of this result of his little impetuous speech. + +"I was altogether uncertain," he answered; "I wanted to start from +England a week sooner, and if I had done so, it seems, I should have +found them here; but I was hindered, and for some reason or other, they +chose to keep me in the dark as to their intentions." + +"Lucia often talked of you and of her regret at going away just when you +were expected." + +"She did? Do you know where they are?" + +"No; and that is the strangest thing. I believe their plans were not +quite fixed; but still Mrs. Costello was not a woman to start away into +the world without plans of some kind, and yet no one in Cacouna knows +more than that they sailed from New York to Havre." + +"It is incomprehensible, except on one supposition. Did you ever hear +Mrs. Costello speak of my return?" + +"Not particularly. Don't be offended, Maurice, either with her or with +me, but I did fancy once or twice that she wished to be away before you +came. Only, mind, that is simply my fancy." + +"I have no doubt you fancied right; but I have a thousand questions to +ask you. Tell me first--" + +"Maurice," interrupted Mr. Bellairs from the other side of the room, +"what is this your father says about going away immediately? You can't +be in earnest in such a scheme!" + +"I am afraid I am," Maurice answered, getting up and standing with his +arm resting on the mantelpiece, "at least, if my father can stand the +journey." + +Mr. Leigh, full of self-reproach and secret disturbance, vowed that the +journey would do him good; that he was eager to see the old country once +again. He had resolved, as the penance for his blunder, that he would +not be the means of hindering his boy one day in his quest for Lucia. +Nevertheless, the discussion grew warm, for Mr. Bellairs having vainly +protested against a winter voyage for the Costellos, had his arguments +all ready and in order, and had no scruple in bringing them to bear upon +Maurice. Of course, they were thrown away, just so many wasted words; +the angry impatient longing that was in the young man's heart would have +been strong enough to overthrow all the arguments in the universe. Only +one reason would have been strong enough to keep him--his father's +unfitness for travel; and that could not fairly be urged, for Mr. Leigh +was actually in better health than he had been for years, and would not +himself listen to a word on the subject. + +Just before the visitors left, Maurice found an opportunity of asking +Mrs. Bellairs one of his "thousand questions." + +"Mr. Strafford, of Moose Island, was Mrs. Costello's great adviser, does +not he know?" + +"No; I wrote to him, and got his answer this morning. He only knew they +would probably stay some time in France." + +She was just going out to get into the sleigh as she spoke. Suddenly +with her foot on the step she stopped, + +"Stay! I have the address of a friend, a cousin, I think, of Mrs. +Costello's in England. Mr. Strafford sent it to me." + +"Thanks, thanks. I shall see you in the morning." + +Maurice went back joyfully into the house. Here was a clue. Now, oh, to +be off and able to make use of it! + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Before going to bed on the very night of his arrival, Maurice found the +list of steamers, and with his father's approbation fixed upon one which +was advertised to sail in a few days over a fortnight from that time. It +happened to be a vessel the comfortable accommodation of which had been +specially praised by some experienced travellers, his fellow-passengers +in the 'India,' and the advantages of going by it being quite evident, +served to satisfy what small scruples of conscience Mr. Bellairs had +been able to awaken. He wrote, therefore, to secure berths and put his +letter ready to be taken into Cacouna next morning, when he should go to +pay his promised visit to Mrs. Bellairs. + +It was early when Maurice awoke; he did so with a sense of having much +to do, but the aspect of his own old room, so strange now and yet so +familiar, kept him dreaming for a few minutes before that important +day's work could be begun. How bare and angular it seemed, how shabby +and poor the furniture! It never had been anything but a boy's room of +the simplest sort, and yet it had many happy and some few sad +associations, such as no other room could ever have for him. He recalled +the long ago days when his brother and he had shared it together, and +their mother used to come in softly at night to look that her two sons +were safe and well,--the later years, when mother and brother were both +gone, and he himself sat there alone reading or writing far into the +night. He thought of the many summer mornings when he had opened his +window to watch for the movement of Lucia's curtain, or for the glimpse +of her girlish figure moving about under the light shadows of the +acacias in the Cottage garden. + +But when he came to that point in his meditation, he sprang up +impatiently, and the uncomfortable irritating feeling that he had been +unfairly dealt with, tricked, in fact, began to take possession of him +again. However, it only acted as a stimulant. He began to feel that he +had entered into the lists with Mrs. Costello, and, regarding her as a +faithless ally, was not a little disposed to do battle with her _a +l'outrance_, and carry off Lucia for revenge as well as for love. + +Directly after breakfast he had out the little red sleigh in which last +winter he had so often driven his old playfellow to and from Cacouna, +and started alone. He had many visits of friendship or business to pay, +but he could not resist going first to Mrs. Bellairs. + +After all, now that the first sharpness of his disappointment was over, +it was pleasant to be at home and to meet friendly faces at every turn. +He had to stop again and again to exchange greetings with people on the +road, and even sometimes to receive congratulations on being a "rich man +now," "a lucky fellow"--congratulations which were both spoken and +listened to as much as if the lands of Hunsdon were a fairy penny, in +the virtues of which neither speaker nor hearer had any very serious +belief. In fact, there was something odd and incredible in the idea that +this was no longer plain Maurice Leigh, the most popular and one of the +poorest members of this small Backwoods world, but Maurice Leigh +Beresford, of Hunsdon, an English country gentleman rich enough, if he +chose, to buy up the whole settlement. + +Maurice went on his way, however, little troubled by his new dignity, +and found Mrs. Bellairs and Bella expecting him. They had guessed that +he would not delay coming for the promised address, and Mr. Strafford's +note containing it lay ready on the table; but when he came into the +room their visitor did actually for the moment forget his errand in +seeing the sombre black-robed figure which had taken the place of the +gay Bella Latour. He had gone away just before her wedding, he had left +her happy, bright, mischievous,--a girl whom sorrow had never touched, +who seemed incapable of understanding what trouble meant; he came back, +full of his own perplexities and disappointments, and found her one so +seized upon by grief that it had grown into her nature, and clothed and +crowned her with its sad pre-eminence. There was no ostentation of +mourning about the young widow, it is true, but none the less Maurice in +looking at her first forgot himself utterly, and then remembered his +impatience and ill-humour with more shame than was at all agreeable. + +To Bella also the meeting was a painful one. Of all her friends, Maurice +was the only one who was associated with her girlish happiness, and +quite dissociated from her married life and its tragic ending. The sight +of him, therefore, renewed for the moment the recollections which she +had taught herself to keep as much as possible for her solitary hours, +and almost disturbed the calm she had forced upon herself in the +presence of others. + +Mrs. Bellairs, however, used to her sister's calamity and ignorant of +Maurice's feelings, did not long delay referring to the Costellos. + +"Here is Mr. Strafford's note," she said. "I wrote and begged of him to +tell me by what means a letter would be likely to reach them, and this +is his answer." + +It was only a few lines, saying that Mrs. Costello had told him +expressly that she should remain for some time in France, and would +write to her Canadian friends as soon as she had any settled home, but +that in the meantime he believed her movements would be known by her +relative, Mr. Wynter, whose address he enclosed. + +Maurice, whose anxiety was revived by the sight of this missive, +examined it with as much care as if he expected to extract more +information from it than in reality the writer possessed, but he was +obliged to content himself with copying the address and giving the +warmest thanks to Mrs. Bellairs for the help he thus gained. + +"I suppose," she asked smiling, "that I may entrust you with a message +for Lucia?" + +Maurice looked rather foolish. He certainly did mean to follow up the +clue in person, but he had not said so, and he fancied Mrs. Bellairs was +inclined to laugh at him for his romance. + +"I will carry it if you do," he answered, "but I do not promise when it +will be delivered." + +"You are really going to England at the time you spoke of last night?" + +"Yes." + +"And from England to France is not much of a journey?" + +"No; and I have not seen Paris yet." + +"Ah! well, you will go over and meet with them, and rejoice poor Lucia's +heart with the sight of a home face." + +"Shall I? Will they be homesick, do you think?" + +"_They?_ I don't know. _She_ will, I think--do not you, Bella?" + +"At all events, she went away with her mind full of the idea that she +would be sure to see you before long." + +Perhaps this speech was not absolutely true, but Maurice liked Bella +better than ever as she said it. He got up soon after, and went his way +with a lighter heart about those various calls which must be made, and +which were pleasant enough now that he saw his way tolerably clear +before him with regard to that other and always most important piece of +business. + +When he got home he set himself to consider whether it were better to +write boldly to Mr. Wynter and ask for news of the travellers, or +whether to wait, and after taking his father to Hunsdon run over himself +to Chester, and make his request in person. There was little to be +gained by writing, for Mr. Wynter's answer, even if it were +satisfactory, would have to be sent to Hunsdon, and there wait his +arrival, while Mrs. Costello would have plenty of time to hear of his +application, and to baffle him if she wished to do so. He quickly +decided, therefore, to do nothing until he could go himself to Chester, +and from thence direct to the place, wherever that might be, where Lucia +was to be found. + +Mr. Leigh's day, meanwhile, had been far less comfortable than +Maurice's. He had made a pretence of looking over papers, and arranging +various small affairs in readiness for their voyage, but his mind all +the while had been occupied with two or three questions. Had Maurice +really sent to him a note for Mrs. Costello which by any carelessness of +his had been lost? Had the change he remembered in her manner been +connected with the loss? Had Lucia cared for Maurice? Had either mother +or daughter thought so ill of Maurice as he, his own father, had done? +The poor old man tormented himself, much as a woman might have done, +with these speculations, but he dared not breathe a word of them. He +even went so far in his self-accusations and self-disgust as to imagine +that if he had been his son's faithful helper, he might have prevented +that flight from the Cottage which had caused so much trouble and +vexation. + +Still, when Maurice came home full of energy and hope, and anxious to +atone for his unreasonableness of the previous day, the aspect of +affairs brightened a good deal, and the evening passed happily with +both. + +But after that first day a certain amount of disturbance began to be +felt in the household. People came and went perpetually. There was so +much to be done, and so little time to do it in; and there was not only +the actual business of moving, but innumerable claims from old friends +were made upon Maurice, all of which had to be satisfied one way or +other. + +And the days flew by so quickly. Maurice congratulated himself again and +again on having provided so good a reason for leaving Cacouna at a +certain time. "Our berths are taken," was a conclusive answer to all +proposals of delay; and if it had not been for that, he often thought it +would have been impossible to have held to his purpose. But as it was, +all engagements, whatever they might be, had to be pressed into the +short space of a fortnight, and under the double impulse of Maurice's +own energies, and of that irrevocable _must_, things went on fast and +prosperously. + +It was well for Mr. Leigh that these last weeks in his old home were so +full of hurry and excitement, and that he was supported by the presence +of his son, and by the thought that he was fulfilling what would have +been the desire of his much-beloved and long-lost wife; for the pain of +parting for ever from the places where so many years of happiness and of +sorrow had been spent--from the birthplace of his children, and the +graves which were sacred to his heart, grew at times very bitter, and +needed all his absorbing love for his last remaining child, to make it +endurable. It is quite true, however, that at other times, the idea of +meeting his old neighbour of the Cottage in that far-away and +half-forgotten England, and of seeing Maurice and Lucia once more +together, as he could not help but hope they would be, cheered him into +positive hopefulness and eagerness to be gone. + +Two days before their actual leaving, it was necessary for the household +to be broken up. Maurice wished to go for the interval to a hotel. +Cacouna had two,--long gaunt wooden buildings supposed to be possessed +of "every accommodation,"--but so many voices were instantly raised +against this plan, that it had to be given up, and Mrs. Bellairs, with +great rejoicing, carried off both father and son from half-a-dozen +other claimants. Literally, she only carried off Mr. Leigh, for Maurice, +who had entirely resumed his Canadian habits, was still deep in the +business of packing and of seeing to the arrangements for the morrow's +sale; but he had promised to have his work finished before evening, and +to join them in good time in Cacouna. + +As Mrs. Bellairs drove Mr. Leigh home in her own sleigh, flourishing the +whip harmlessly over Bob's ears and making him clash all his silver +bells at once with the tossing of his head, she could not help saying, + +"Don't you think now Maurice is such a rich man he ought to marry soon?" + +Her companion looked at her doubtfully. + +"Perhaps he is thinking of it," he answered. + +"When he is married," she went on with a little laugh, "he has promised +to invite us to England." + +But Mr. Leigh did not smile. + +"I hope you will come soon, then," he said. + +"You think there is a chance?" + +"I think it will not be his fault if there is not." + +"And I think he is not likely to find the lady very obstinate." + +"What lady? _Any_ one or one in particular?" + +"I thought of one, certainly." + +"Lucia Costello?" + +"Yes." + +"You think she would marry him?" + +"Why not? Yes, I think so." + +"And her mother?" + +"Ah! I don't know; Mrs. Costello has a will of her own." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +In the old days there had been a sort of antagonism between Bella Latour +and Maurice Leigh. They had necessarily seen a great deal of each other, +and liked each other after a certain fashion; but Maurice had thought +Bella too flighty, and inclined to fastness; and Bella had been +half-seriously, half-playfully disposed to resent his judgment of her. +But now, either because of the complete change in her character which +the last few months had wrought, or from some other cause, Mrs. Morton +and Maurice fell into a kind of confidential intimacy quite new to their +intercourse. It was only for two days, certainly, but during those two +days, and in spite of Maurice's occupations, they had time for several +long and very interesting conversations. + +In the first of these, which had begun upon some indifferent subject, +Bella surprised Maurice by alluding, quite calmly and simply, to the +imprisonment of the unfortunate Indian, Lucia's father. He had naturally +supposed that a subject so closely connected with her own misfortunes +would have been too deeply painful to be a permitted one, and had, +therefore, with care, avoided all allusion to it. In this, however, he +did not do her full justice. The truth was, that in her deep interest in +the Costellos, she had quietly forced herself to think and speak of the +whole train of events which affected them, without dwelling on its +connection with her own story. She never spoke of her husband--her +self-command was not yet strong enough for that--nor of Clarkson; but of +Christian, as the victim of a false accusation, she talked to Maurice +without hesitation. + +Up to that time there had been no very vivid idea in his mind either of +Christian himself, or of the way in which he had spent the months of his +imprisonment, and finally died. Indeed, in the constant change and +current of nearer interests, he had thought little, after the first, +about this unknown father of his beloved. He had considered the matter +until it led him just so far as to make up his mind, quite easily and +without evidence, that Clarkson was probably the murderer, and that +Christian, whether innocent or guilty, was not to be allowed to separate +him from Lucia, and then, after that point, he ceased to think of +Christian at all. But now, he received from Bella the little details, +such as no letters could have told him, of the weeks since her husband's +death--chiefly of the later ones, and there were many reasons why these +details had a charm for him which made him want to hear more, the more +he heard. In the first place she spoke constantly of Lucia, and it +scarcely needed a lover's fancy to enable him to perceive how in this +time of trial she had been loving, helpful, wise even, beyond what +seemed to belong to the sweet but wilful girl of his recollection. He +listened with new thoughts of her, and a love which had more of respect, +as Bella described those bitter days of which Lucia had told her later, +when neither mother nor daughter dared to believe in the innocence of +the accused man, and when, the one for love, the other for obedience, +they kept their secret safe in their trembling hearts, and tried to go +in and out before the world as if they had no secret to keep. + +"Lucia used to come to me every day. I was ill, and her visits were my +great pleasure; she came and talked or read to me, with her mind full +all the while of that horrible idea." + +"She knew that it was her father?" asked Maurice. "I wonder Mrs. +Costello, after having kept the truth from Lucia so long, should have +told her all just then." + +Bella looked at him inquiringly. + +"She had told her before anything of this happened," she answered. "I +believe Lucia herself was the first to suspect that the prisoner was her +father." + +"And how did they find out?" + +"Mr. Strafford went and visited him." + +"Did you ever see him?" + +"No. Elise did for a few minutes just before his death; but I have heard +so much about him that I can scarcely persuade myself I never did see +him." + +"They were both with him at last?" + +"Yes. Poor Lucia never saw him till then." + +"Tell me about it, please." + +She obeyed, and told all that had happened both within her own knowledge +and at the jail, on the night of Christian's death and the day preceding +it. Her calmness was a little shaken when she had to refer to Clarkson's +confession, though she did so very slightly, but she recovered herself +and went on with her story, simply repeating for the most part what +Lucia and Mrs. Bellairs had told her at the time. When she had finished, +Maurice remained silent. He had shaded his eyes with his hand, and when, +after a minute's pause, he looked up again to ask her another question, +she saw that he had been deeply touched by the picture she had drawn. + +But Bella was really doing her friends a double service by thus talking +to Maurice. It was not only that Lucia grew if possible dearer than ever +to him from these conversations, but there was something--though Maurice +himself would not have admitted it--in making Lucia's father an object +of interest and sympathy, instead of leaving him a kind of dark but +inevitable blot on the history of the future bride. + +On the evening before Mr. Leigh and his son were to start for England, +as many as possible of their old friends were gathered together at Mr. +Bellairs' for a farewell meeting. Every one there had known the +Costellos; every one remembered how Maurice and Lucia had been +perpetually associated together at all Cacouna parties; every one, +therefore, naturally thought of Lucia, and she was more frequently +spoken of than she had been at all since she left. It seemed also to be +taken for granted that Maurice would see her somewhere before long, and +he was entrusted with innumerable messages both to her and her mother. + +"But," he remonstrated, "you forget that I am going to England, and that +they are in France--at least, that it is supposed so." + +"Oh! yes," he was answered, "but you will be sure to see them; don't +forget the message when you do." + +At last he gave up making any objection, and determined to believe what +everybody said. It was a pleasant augury, at any rate, and he was glad +to accept it for a true one. + +When all the visitors were gone, and the household had retired for the +night, Mr. Bellairs and his former pupil sat together over the +drawing-room fire for one last chat. Their talk wandered over all sorts +of subjects--small incidents of law business--the prospects of some +Cacouna men who had gone to British Columbia--the voyage to England--the +position of Hunsdon--and Maurice had been persuading his host to come +over next summer for a holiday, when by some chance Percy was alluded +to. + +"You have not seen or heard anything of him, I suppose?" Mr. Bellairs +asked. + +"Yes, indeed, I have," Maurice answered, slowly stirring the poker about +in the ashes as he spoke. "I met him only the other day in London." + +"Met him? Where?" + +"On a doorstep----," and he proceeded to describe their meeting. + +"I suppose you have heard of his marriage by this time." + +"No. I heard from Edward Graham, an old friend of mine, that he was +going to be married, but that is the latest news I have of him." + +"Oh, well, Payne may have made a mistake. He told me it was coming off +in a day or two." + +"As likely as not. He might not think it worth while to send us any +notice." + +"The puppy! I beg your pardon, I forgot he was your cousin." + +"You need not apologise on that score. There is not much love lost +between us; and as for Elise, I never knew her inclined to be +inhospitable to anybody but him." + +"Was she to him?" + +"She was heartily glad to see the last of him, and so I suspect were +some other people." + +"What people?" + +"Mrs. Costello for one. He was more at the Cottage than she seemed to +like." + +Maurice hesitated, but could not resist asking a question. + +"Was he as much there afterwards as he was before the time I left?" + +"More, I think. Look here, Maurice; Elise first put it into my head that +he was running after Lucia, but I saw it plainly enough myself +afterwards, and I know you saw it too. I think we are old enough friends +for me to speak to you on such a subject. Well, my belief is, that +before Percy went away, he proposed to Lucia." + +"Proposed? Impossible!" + +"I don't know about that. He was really in love with her in his +fashion--which is not yours, or mine." + +"And she?" + +"Must have refused him, for he went away in a kind of amazed ruefulness, +which even you would have pitied." + +Maurice looked the reverse of pitiful for a moment. + +"But that is all supposition," he said. + +"Granted. But a supposition founded on pretty close observation. Only +mind, I do not say Lucia might not be a little sorry herself. You were +away, and a girl does not lose a handsome fellow like Percy, who has +been following her about everywhere as if he were her pet dog, without +feeling the loss more or less. At least that is my idea." + +"He has soon consoled himself." + +"My dear fellow, everybody can't step into possession of L10,000 a year +all at once. Most people have to do something for a living, and the only +thing Percy could do was to marry." + +They said good-night soon after this, and went upstairs, Maurice +blessing the Fates which seemed determined to give him all possible hope +and encouragement. Only he could not quite understand this idea of Mr. +Bellairs'. He could imagine anybody, even Percy, being so far carried +away by Lucia's beauty as to forget prudence for the moment; but he +could not help but feel that it was improbable that Percy would have +gone so far as to propose to Lucia unless he were sure she would say +yes. Why, then, had she not said yes? + +Next morning the last farewells had to be said--the last look taken at +the old home. Night found father and son far on their way to New York, +and Maurice's eagerness all renewed by this fresh start upon his quest. + +There was little of novelty in the journey or the voyage. There were the +usual incidents of winter travelling--the hot, stifling car--the snowy +country stretching out mile after mile from morning till night--the +hotels, which seemed strangely comfortless for an invalid--and then the +great city with its noise and bustle, and the steamer where they had +nothing to do but to wait. + +And, at last, there was England. There was the Mersey and Liverpool, +looking, as they came in, much as if the accumulated dirt of the three +kingdoms had been bestowed there, but brightening up into a different +aspect when they had fairly landed and left the docks behind them. For +it was a lovely March day--only the second or third of the month it is +true,--and winter, which they had left in full possession in Canada, +seemed to be over here, and the warm sunny air so invigorated Mr. Leigh +that he would not hear Maurice's proposal to rest until next day, but +insisted on setting out at once for Norfolk. + +As they drove to the railway they passed the jeweller's shop where +Maurice had bought Lucia's ring. Alas! it still lay in his pocket, where +he had carried it ever since that day--when would it find its +destination? He was not going to be disheartened now, however. He was +glad of the little disturbance to his thoughts of having to take tickets +and see his father comfortably placed, and at the very last moment he +was just able to seize upon a _Times_, and set himself to reading it as +if he had never been out of England. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Maurice had telegraphed from Liverpool, and the old-fashioned carriage +from Hunsdon met them at the last railway station. It was near sunset, +and under a clear sky the soft rich green of the grass gleamed out with +the brightness of spring. They soon turned into the park, and the house +itself began to be visible through the budding, but still leafless, +trees. Both father and son were silent. To the one, every foot of the +road they traversed was haunted by the memories of thirty years ago; to +the other, this coming home was a step towards the fulfilment of his +hopes. They followed their own meditations, glad or sorrowful, until the +last curve was turned, and they stopped before the great white pillars +of the portico. Then Maurice remembered that this was his first coming +home as master, and felt a momentary shyness take possession of him +before his own new importance. He had been able during his absence to +keep Hunsdon so much in the background, and to be so thoroughly the +natural, portionless, Maurice Leigh. He jumped out of the carriage, +however, and was too much occupied in helping his father, to think, for +the next few minutes, of his own sensations at all. Then he discovered +what he had not before thought about--that there were still two or three +of the old servants who remembered his mother and her marriage, and who +were eager to be recognised by "the Captain." + +And so the coming home was got over, and Mr. Leigh was fairly settled in +the house from which so long ago he had stolen away his wife. After he +had once taken possession of his rooms--the very ones which had been +hers,--he seemed to think no more about Canada, but to be quite content +with the new link to the past which supplied the place of his accustomed +associations. And, perhaps, he felt the change all the less because of +that inclination to return to the recollections of youth rather than of +middle age, which seems so universal with the old. + +Maurice sent over a messenger to Dighton to announce their arrival, and +to tell his cousin that he intended leaving home again after one day's +interval. That one day was fully occupied, but, as he had half expected, +in the afternoon Lady Dighton came over. + +She knew already of his disappointment, and had sympathised with it. She +came now with the kind intention of establishing such friendly relations +with Mr. Leigh as would make Maurice more comfortable in leaving his +father alone. She even proposed to carry the old man off to Dighton, but +that was decided against. + +"And you really start to-morrow?" she asked Maurice. + +"Early to-morrow morning. I cannot imagine what the railway-makers have +been thinking about; it will take me the whole day to get to Chester." + +"How is that?" + +"Oh! there are about a dozen changes of line, and, of course, an hour to +wait each time." + +"Cut off the exaggeration, and it is provoking enough. Is it in Chester +this gentleman lives?" + +"No, three or four miles away, I fancy. I shall have to inquire when I +get there." + +"And after you find him what will you do?" + +"If I get their address, I shall go straight from Mr. Wynter to them, +wherever they are." + +"At St. Petersburg, perhaps, or Constantinople?" + +"Don't, Louisa, please. I thought you had some pity for one's +perplexities." + +"So I have. And I believe, myself, that they are in Paris." + +"I wish they may be--that is, if I get any satisfaction from my +inquiries. Otherwise, Paris is not exactly a place where one would +choose to set about seeking for a lost friend, especially with about +half-a-dozen sentences of available French." + +"Never fear. But if you should not find them, I would not mind going +over for a week or two to help you; I should be of some use as an +interpreter." + +"Will you come? Not for that; but if I do find them, I should so like to +introduce Lucia to you." + +"To tell the truth, I am rather afraid of this paragon of yours; and you +will be bringing her to see me." + +"I am afraid I am making too sure of that without your telling me so. +After all, I may have my search for nothing. I do wish very much you +would come over." + +"Well, at Easter we will see. Perhaps I may coax Sir John over for a +week or two." + +"Thank you. I shall depend on that." + +"But remember you must send me word how you fare." + +"I will write the moment I have anything to tell." + +"Impress upon your father, Maurice, that we wish to do all we can for +his comfort. I wish he would have come to us." + +"I think he is better here. Everything here reminds him of my mother, +and he feels at home. But I shall feel that I leave him in your hands, +my kind cousin." + +Maurice bade his father good-bye that night, and early next morning he +started on his journey to Chester. What a journey it was! His account to +Lady Dighton had been exaggerated certainly, but was not without +foundation. Again and again he found himself left behind, chafing and +restless, by some train which had carried him for, perhaps, an hour, and +obliged to amuse himself as best he could until a fresh one came, in +which he would travel another equally short stage. It was a windy, +rainy day, with gleams of sunshine, but more of cloud and shower, and +grew more and more stormy as it drew towards night. Before he reached +Chester the wind had risen to a storm, and sheets of rain were being +dashed fiercely against the carriage windows. At last they did roll into +the station with as much noise and importance as if delay had been a +thing undreamt of, on _that_ line at any rate; and Maurice hurried off +to make his inquiries, and find a carriage to take him to Mr. Wynter's. + +So far, certainly, he prospered. He found that his destination was +between four and five miles from the city, but it was perfectly well +known, and a carriage was soon ready to take him on. + +The road seemed very long, as an unknown road travelled in darkness and +in haste generally does. The wind howled, and rattled the carriage +windows, the rain still dashed against the glass with every gust, and at +times the horses seemed scarcely able to keep on through the storm. At +last, however, they came to a stop, and Maurice, looking out, found +himself close to a lodge, from the window of which a bright gleam of +light shone out across the rainy darkness. In a minute a second light +came from the opening door, the great gates rolled back, and the +carriage passed on into the grounds. There were large trees on both +sides of the drive, just faintly visible as they swayed backwards and +forwards, and then came an open space and the house itself. There was a +cheerful brightness there, showing a wide old-fashioned porch, and, +within, a large hall where a lamp was burning. Maurice hurried in to the +porch, and had waited but a minute when a servant in a plain, +sober-coloured livery came leisurely across the hall and opened the +glass door, through which the visitor had been trying to get his first +idea of the place and its inhabitants. + +"Was Mr. Wynter in?" + +"No." + +"Was he expected?" + +"Not to-night, certainly--perhaps not to-morrow." + +"Mrs. Wynter?" That was a guess. Maurice had never troubled himself till +then to think whether there _was_ a Mrs. Wynter. + +"She was at home, but engaged." + +Maurice hesitated a moment. "I must see her," he thought to himself, and +took heart again. + +"I have made a long journey," he said, "to see Mr. Wynter; will you give +my card to your mistress, and beg of her to see me for a moment?" + +The man took the card and led the visitor into a small room at one side +of the hall, where books and work were lying about as if it had been +occupied earlier in the day, but which was empty now. Then he shut the +door and carried the card into the drawing-room. + +Mrs. Wynter had friends staying with her. There was a widow and her son +and daughter, and one or two young people besides, as well as all the +younger members of the Wynter family. The two elder ladies were having a +little comfortable chat over their work, and the others were gathered +round the piano, when Maurice's arrival was heard. + +"Who can it be?" Mrs. Wynter said doubtfully. "It is not possible Mr. +Wynter can be back to-night." + +The eldest daughter came to the back of her mother's chair. + +"Listen, mamma," she said; "or shall I look if it is papa?" + +"No indeed, my dear. It can't be. Walter!" for one of the boys was +cautiously unlatching the door, "come away, I beg." + +Meanwhile all listened, so very extraordinary did it seem that anybody +should come unannounced, so late, and on such a night. + +Presently the door opened, and everybody's eyes, as well as ears, were +in requisition, though there was only a card to exercise them on. + +"A gentleman, ma'am, who says he has come a long way to see master, and +would you speak to him for a moment?" + +Mrs. Wynter took up the card, and her daughter read it over her +shoulder. + +"Leigh Beresford?" she said. "I do not know the name at all. You said +Mr. Wynter was from home?" + +"Yes, ma'am. The gentleman seemed very much put out, and then said could +he see you?" + +"I suppose he must;" and Mrs. Wynter began, rather reluctantly, to put +aside her embroidery, and draw up her lace shawl around her shoulders. + +"But what a pretty name! Mamma, who can he be?" + +"And, mamma, if he is nice bring him in and let us all see him." + +"No, don't; we don't want any strangers. What _do_ people come after +dinner for?" + +Mrs. Wynter paid no attention to her daughters, but having made up her +mind to it, walked composedly out of the room, and into the one where +Maurice waited. She came in, a fair motherly woman, in satin and lace, +with a certain soft _comfortableness_ about her aspect which seemed an +odd contrast to his impatience. He took pains to speak without hurry or +excitement, but did not, perhaps, altogether succeed. + +"I must beg you to pardon me this intrusion," he said. "I hoped to have +found Mr. Wynter at home, and I wished to ask him a question which I +have no doubt you can answer equally well if you will be so good." + +"If it relates to business," Mrs. Wynter began, but Maurice interrupted, + +"It is only about an address. I have just arrived in England from +Canada; I am an old friend and neighbour of Mrs. Costello, and have +something of importance to communicate to her, will you tell me where +she is?" + +Poor Maurice! he had been getting his little speech ready beforehand, +and had made up his mind to speak quite coolly, but somehow the last few +words seemed very much in earnest, and struck Mrs. Wynter as being so. +She looked more closely at her guest. + +"Mrs. Costello is in France. Did I understand that you had known her in +Canada?" + +"I have known her all my life. I spent the last summer and autumn in +England, and did not return to Canada until after she had left, but she +knew that I should have occasion to see her, or write to her as soon as +I could reach home again, and I am anxious to do so now." + +"You are aware that Mrs. Costello wishes to live very quietly? Her +health is much broken." + +"I know all. Mrs. Costello has herself told me. Pray trust me--you may, +indeed." + +"You will excuse my hesitation if you do know all; but, certainly, I +have no authority to refuse their address." + +She got up and opened a desk which stood on a table in the room. She had +considered the matter while they were talking, and come to the +conclusion that the address ought to be given, while at the same time +she wished to know more of the person to whom she gave it. + +"I wish Mr. Wynter had been at home," she said after a minute's pause, +during which she was turning over the papers in the desk, and Maurice +was watching her eagerly. "He would have been able to tell you something +of your friends, for he only returned home a week or two ago from +meeting them." + +"Are they in Paris?" + +"Yes. Are you returning to Canada?" + +"No. Perhaps, Mrs. Wynter, you would like to have my address? My coming +to you as I have done, without credentials of any sort, must certainly +seem strange." + +"Thank you; you will understand that I feel in some little difficulty." + +"I understand perfectly." He wrote his name and address in full and gave +it to her. "Mrs. Costello was a dear friend of my mother's," he said; +"she has always treated me almost as a son, and I cannot help hoping +that what I have to say to her may be welcome news." + +"Do you expect to see her, then, or only to write?" + +"I am on my way to Paris. I hope to see them." + +"Here is the address. You have had a long journey, the servant told me." + +"From Hunsdon. And the journey out of Norfolk into Cheshire is a +tiresome one. Thank you very much. Can I take any message to Mrs. +Costello?" + +"None, thank you, except our kindest remembrances. But you will let me +offer you something--at least a glass of wine?" + +But Maurice had now got all he wanted. He just glanced at the precious +paper, put it away safely, declined Mrs. Wynter's offers, and was out of +the house and on his way back to Chester in a very short space of time. + +"What an odd thing!" Mrs. Wynter said as she settled herself comfortably +in the easy-chair again. + +"Who was he, mamma? What did he want?" + +"He was a Canadian friend of your cousin Mary's wanting her address." + +"What! come over from Canada on purpose?" + +"It almost seemed like it, though that could not be, I suppose, for here +is his address--'Maurice Leigh Beresford, Hunsdon, Norfolk.'" + +"Beresford?" said the widow, "Why the Beresfords of Hunsdon are great +people--very grand people, indeed. I used to know something of them." + +"Did he look like a grand person, mamma?" + +"He seemed a gentleman, certainly. I know no more." + +"Was he young or old?" + +"Young." + +"Handsome or ugly?" + +"Need he be either?" + +"Of course. Which, mamma?" + +"Not ugly, decidedly. Tall, and rather dark, with a very frank, +honest-looking face." + +"Young, handsome, tall, dark, and honest-looking! Mamma, he's a hero of +romance, especially coming as he did, in the rain and the night." + +"Don't be silly, Tiny. Mamma, is not my cousin Lucia a great beauty?" + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Mrs. Costello and Lucia had grown, to some degree, accustomed to their +Paris life. Its novelty had at first prevented them from feeling its +loneliness; but as time went on, there began to be something dreary in +the absence of every friendly face, every familiar voice. Mrs. Costello +would not even write to Canada until she could feel tolerably sure that +her letters would only arrive after the Leighs had left; she had taken +pains to find out all Mr. Leigh could tell her of Maurice's intentions, +and she guessed that, for one reason or another, he would not be likely +to stay longer in Cacouna than was necessary. Even when she wrote to +Mrs. Bellairs she did not give her own address, but that of the banker +through whom her money was transmitted. + +She felt sore and angry whenever she thought of Maurice. She had +perceived Mr. Leigh's embarrassed manner, and guessed, by a +half-conscious reasoning of her own, that he believed his son changed +towards them, but she did not guess on how very small a foundation this +belief rested. She had thought it right to give up, on Lucia's behalf, +any claim she had on the young man's fidelity; but to find him so very +ready to accept the sacrifice, was quite another thing. It was so unlike +Maurice, she said to herself; and then it occurred to her that Mr. +Beresford might have planned some marriage for his grandson as a +condition of his inheritance. Certainly she had heard no hint of such a +thing, and up to a short time ago she was pretty sure Maurice himself +could have had no idea of it; yet it was perfectly possible, and Mr. +Leigh might have been warned to say nothing to her about it. All these +thoughts, though Maurice might, if he had known, have been inclined to +resent them, had the effect of keeping him constantly in Mrs. Costello's +mind; and she puzzled over his conduct until she came to have her wishes +pretty equally divided; on one hand, desiring to keep to her plan of a +total separation between Lucia and him; and on the other, longing to see +or hear of him, in order to know whether her former or her present +opinion of him was the correct one. + +It happened, therefore, that Maurice was much more frequently spoken of +between the mother and daughter than should have been the case if Mrs. +Costello had carried out her theories. If Lucia had been ever so little +"in love" with him when she reached Paris, she would have had plenty of +opportunity for increasing her fancy by dwelling on the object of it; +but Mrs. Costello's wishes were forwarded by the very last means she +would have chosen as her auxiliary. Lucia talked of Maurice because she +thought of him as a friend, or rather as a dear brother. She said +nothing of Percy, but she dreamt of him, and longed inexpressibly to +hear even his name mentioned. She had heard nothing of him, except some +slight casual mention, since he went away. He had said then that, +perhaps in a year, she might change her mind; and she had said to +herself, "Surely he will not forget me in a year." And now spring was +coming round again, and all that had separated them was removed; there +was not even the obstacle of distance; no Atlantic rolled between them; +nay, they might be even in the same city. But how would he know? She +could do nothing. She had done all in her power to make their parting +final. How could she undo it now? She did not dare even to speak to her +mother of him, for she knew that on that one subject alone there had +never been sympathy between them. And she said to herself, too, deep in +her own heart, that it must be a great love indeed which would be +willing to take her--a poor, simple, half-Indian girl--and brave the +world, and, above all, that terrible old earl and his pride, for her +sake. + +Still she dreamed and hoped, and set herself, meanwhile, all the more +vigorously because of that hope, to "improve her mind." She picked up +French wonderfully fast, having a tolerable foundation to go upon and a +very quick ear, and she read and practised daily; beside learning +various secrets of housekeeping, and attending her mother with the +tenderest care. But it was very lonely. Lucia had never known what +loneliness meant until those days when she sat by the window in the +Champs Elysees and watched the busy perpetual stream of passers up and +down--the movements of a world which was close round about, yet with +which she had no one link of acquaintance or affection. It was very +lonely; and because she could not speak out her thoughts, and say, "Is +Percy here? Shall I see him some day passing, and thinking nothing of my +being near him?" she said the thing that lay next in her mind, "I wish +Maurice were here! Don't you, mamma?" + +They had been more than a month in their new home. The routine of life +had grown familiar to them; they knew the outsides, at least, of all the +neighbouring shops; they had walked together to the Arc de Triomphe on +the one side, and to the Rond Point on the other; they had driven to the +Bois de Boulogne, and done some little sight-seeing beside. They had +done all, in short, to which Mrs. Costello's strength was at present +equal, and had come to a little pause, waiting for warmer weather, and +for the renewal of health, which they hoped sunshine would bring her. + +One afternoon Claudine had been obliged to go out, and the little +apartment was unusually quiet. Mrs. Costello, tired with a morning +walk, had dropped into a doze; and Lucia sat by the window, her work on +her lap, and her eyes idly following the constant succession of +carriages down below. To tell the truth, she constantly outraged +Claudine's sense of propriety, by insisting on having one little crevice +uncurtained, where she could look out into the free air; and to-day she +was making use of the privilege, for want of anything more interesting +indoors. She had no fear of being disturbed, for they had no visitors; +in all Paris, there was not one person they knew, unless--. Percy had +been there a great deal formerly, she knew, and might be there now, but +he would not know where to find them if he wished it; no one could +possibly come to-day. And yet the first interruption that came in the +midst of the drowsy, sunny silence, was a ring at the door-bell. Lucia +raised her head in surprise, and listened. Mrs. Costello slept on. Who +could it be? not Claudine, for she had the key. Must she go and open the +door? It seemed so, since there was no one else; and while she hesitated +there was another ring, a little louder than the first. + +She got up, put down her work, and went towards the door. "I wish +Claudine would come," she said to herself; but Claudine was not likely +to come yet, and meanwhile somebody was waiting. + +"I suppose I shall have a flood of French poured over me," she thought +dolorously; but there was clearly no help. + +She went to the door, and opened it; a gentleman stood there--a +gentleman! She uttered one little cry-- + +"Maurice!" + +And then they were both standing inside the closed door; and he held her +two hands in his, and they were looking at each other with eyes too full +of joy to see well. + +"Lucia!" he said; "just yourself." But somehow his voice was not quite +steady, and he dare not trust it any further. + +"We wanted you so, and you are come. Oh, Maurice! you are good to find +us so soon!" + +"Did you think I should not?" + +"I cannot tell. How could you know where we were?" + +"I went to Chester, and asked." + +"To Chester? To my cousin's? Just to find us out?" + +"Why not? Did not you know perfectly well that my first thought when I +was free would be to find you?" + +He spoke half laughing, but there was no mistaking his earnestness in +the matter; was not he here to prove it? Tears came very fast to Lucia's +eyes. This was really like the old happy days coming back. + +"Come in," she said, "mamma is here." But mamma still slept undisturbed, +for their tones had been low in the greatness of their joy; and Maurice +drew Lucia back, and would not let her awake her. + +"She looks very tired," he said rather hypocritically; "and it will be +time enough to see me when she awakes. Don't disturb her." + +Lucia looked at her mother anxiously. She knew this sleep was good for +the invalid, and yet it might last an hour, and how could she wait all +that time for the thousand things she wanted to hear from Maurice? The +door of their tiny salle a manger stood a little open. + +"Come in here, then," she said, "we shall be able to see when she +wakes--and _I must_ talk to you." + +Maurice followed obediently--this was better than his hopes, to have +Lucia all to himself for the first half hour. She made him sit down in +such a manner that he could not be seen by Mrs. Costello, while she +herself could see through the open door and watch for her mother's +waking. + +"And now tell me," she asked, "have you been back to Canada?" + +"I started the moment I could leave England after my grandfather's +death, but when I reached Cacouna you were gone." + +"Dear old home! I suppose all looked just as usual?" + +"Nothing looked as usual to me. As I came up the river I saw that the +cottage was deserted, and that changed all the rest. But indeed I had +had a tolerable certainty before that you were gone." + +"How?" + +"Do you remember meeting a Cunard steamer two days out at sea?" + +"You were on board? How I strained my eyes to see if I could distinguish +you!" + +"Did you? And I too. But though I could not see you, I felt that you +were on board the ship we met." + +"I was sitting on deck, longing for a telescope. Well, it is all right +now. Did you bring Mr. Leigh home?" + +"Yes; he is at Hunsdon, safe and well." + +"Hunsdon is your house now, is not it? Tell me what it is like?" + +"A great square place, with a huge white portico in front--very ugly, to +tell the truth; but you would like the park, Lucia, and the trees." + +"It must be very grand. Does it feel very nice to be rich?" + +"That depends on circumstances. But now do you think you are to ask all +the questions and answer none?" + +"No, indeed. There is one answer." + +"Do you like Paris?" + +"Well enough. It is very lonely here without anybody." + +"Are you going to stay here?" + +"For a month or two, I think." + +"You will not be quite so lonely then in future--at least if I may come +to see you." + +"May come? That is a new idea. But are you going to stay in Paris, too?" + +"I must stay for a few weeks. And I expect my cousin Lady Dighton over +soon, and she wants to know you." + +"To know _us_? Oh, Maurice! you forget what a little country girl I am, +and mamma, poor mamma is not well enough to go out at all, scarcely." + +"Is she such an invalid, really? Have you had advice for her?" + +"It is disease of the heart," Lucia said in a very low sorrowful tone, +all her gaiety disappearing before the terrible idea--"the only thing +that is good for her is to be quiet and happy--and the last few months +have been so dreadful, she has suffered so." + +"And you? But I have heard all. Lucia, I would have given all I am worth +in the world to have been able to help you." + +"I often wished for you, especially when I used to fear that our old +friends would desert us. I never thought _you_ would." + +"There is some comfort in that. Promise that whatever may come, you will +always trust me." + +He held out his hand, and Lucia put hers frankly in it. + +Just at that moment there was a stir, and Mrs. Costello called "Lucia." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Mrs. Costello woke up gradually from her doze. She had been dreaming of +Cacouna, and that Maurice and Lucia were sitting near her talking of his +journey to England. She opened her eyes and found herself in a strange +room which she soon recognized, but still it seemed as if part of her +dream continued, for she could hear the murmur of two voices, very low, +and could see Lucia sitting in the adjoining room and talking to +somebody. Lucia, in fact, had forgotten to keep watch. + +Mrs. Costello listened for a minute. It was strangely like Maurice's +voice. She sat up, and called her daughter. + +Lucia started up and came into the salon. She bent down over her +mother, and kissed her to hide her flushed face and happy eyes for a +moment. + +"Are you rested, dear mamma?" she asked. + +"Yes, darling. Who is there?" + +"A visitor, mother, from England." + +"From England? Not your cousin?" + +"No, indeed. Guess again." + +"Tell me. Quickly, Lucia." + +"What do you say to Maurice?" + +"Impossible!" + +But Maurice, hearing his own name, came forward boldly. + +"I have but just arrived, Mrs. Costello. I told you I should find you +out." + +They looked at each other with something not unlike defiance, but +nevertheless Mrs. Costello shook hands with her guest cordially enough. +Certainly he _had_ kept his word--there might be a mistake somewhere, +and at all events, for the present moment he was here, and it was very +pleasant to see him. + +So the three sat together and talked, and it seemed so natural that they +should be doing it, that what did begin to be strange and incredible was +the separation, and the various events of the past six months. But after +Claudine had come in, and Lucia had been obliged to go away "on +hospitable cares intent," to arrange with her some little addition to +the dinner which Maurice was to share with them, the newcomer took +advantage of her absence, and resolved to get as many as possible of his +difficulties over at once. He had not yet quite forgiven his faithless +ally, and he meant to make a new treaty, now that he was on the spot to +see it carried out. + +"I am afraid," he began, "that my coming so unexpectedly must have +startled you a little, but I thought it was best not to write." + +Mrs. Costello could not help smiling--she was quite conscious of her +tactics having been surpassed by Maurice's. + +"I am glad to see you, at any rate," she said, "now you _are_ here; but" +she added seriously, "you must not forget, nor try to tempt me to +forget, that we are all changed since we met last." + +"I do not wish it. I don't wish to forget anything that is true and +real, and I wish to remind you that when I left Canada I did so with a +promise--an implied promise at any rate--from you, which has not been +kept." + +"Maurice! Have you a right to speak to me so?" + +"I think I have. Dear Mrs. Costello, have some consideration for me. +Was it right when I was kept a fast prisoner by my poor grandfather's +sick-bed, when I was trusting to you, and doing all I could to make you +to trust me--was it fair to break faith with me, and try to deprive me +of all the hopes I had in the world? Just think of it--was it fair?" + +"I broke no faith with you. I felt that I had let you pledge yourself in +the dark; that in my care for Lucia, and confidence in you, I had to +some extent bound you to a discreditable engagement. I released you from +it; I told you the truth of the story I had hidden from everybody--I +wrote to you when my husband lay in jail waiting his trial for murder, +and I heard no more from you. It was natural, prudent, right that you +should accept the separation I desired--you did so, and I have only +taken means to make it effectual." + +"I did so! I accepted the separation?" + +"I supposed, at least, from your silence that you did so. Was not I +right therefore in desiring that you and Lucia should not meet again?" + +"_That_ was it, then? Listen, Mrs. Costello. My last note to you seems +by some means to have been lost. There was nothing new in it; but my +father has told me that he was surprised on receiving my letter which +ought to have contained it, to find nothing for you, not even a message; +perhaps you wondered too. I can only tell you the note was written. +Then, in my next letter, written when my grandfather was actually dying, +and when I was, I confess, very angry that you should persist in trying +to shake me off, there was a message to you in a postscript which my +father overlooked, and which I myself showed to him for the first time +when I reached home and found you gone. What he had been thinking, +Heaven knows. I had rather not inquire too closely; but I will say that +it is rather hard to find that the people who ought to know one best, +cannot trust one for six months." + +Mrs. Costello listened attentively while Maurice made his explanation +with no little warmth and indignation. + +"Do you mean to say that you did not perceive how foolish and wrong it +had become for you to think of marrying Lucia?" + +"How in the world could it be either foolish or wrong for me to wish to +marry the girl I have loved all my life? Unless, indeed, she preferred +somebody else." + +"Remember who she is." + +"I am not likely to forget that after all I have lately heard about her +from Mrs. Morton." + +"And that you have a family and a position to think of now." + +"And a home fit to offer to Lucia." + +"Obstinate boy!" + +"Call me what you will, but let it be understood that I have done +nothing to forfeit your promise. I am to take no further answers except +from Lucia." + +"But you know, at least, that our worst fears were unfounded?" + +"Of course they were. I always knew that would come right. But you have +suffered terribly; I am ashamed of my own selfishness when I think of +it." + +"We have suffered. And my poor child so innocently, and so bravely. +Maurice, she is worth caring for." + +"You shall see whether I value her or not. Here she comes!" + +Lucia came in, the glow of pleasure still on her face which Maurice's +arrival had brought there. It was no wonder that both mother and lover +looked at her with delight as she moved about, too restlessly happy to +sit still, yet pausing every minute to ask some question or to listen +to what the others were saying. Indeed not one of the three could well +have been happier than they were that afternoon. Mrs. Costello felt that +she had done all she could in the cause of prudence, and therefore +rejoiced without compunction in seeing her favourite scheme for her +darling restored to her more perfect than ever. Maurice, without having +more than the minimum quantity of masculine vanity, had great faith in +the virtues of perseverance and fidelity, and took the full benefit of +Lucia's delight at seeing him; while Lucia herself was just simply +glad--so glad that for an hour or two she quite forgot to think of +Percy. + +Maurice declared he had business which would keep him in Paris for some +weeks. He claimed permission therefore to come every day, and to take +Lucia to all the places where Mrs. Costello was not able to go. + +"Oh, how charming!" Lucia cried. "I shall get some walks now. Do you +know, Maurice, mamma will not let me go anywhere by myself, and I can't +bear to make her walk; but you will go, won't you?" + +"Indeed I will," Maurice said; but after that he went away back to his +hotel, with his first uncomfortable sensation. Was Lucia still really +such a child? Would she always persist in thinking of him as an elder +brother--a dear brother, certainly, which was something, but not at all +what he wanted? How should he make her understand the difference? That +very day, her warm frank affection had been a perfect shield to her. The +words that had risen to his lips had been stopped there, as absolutely +as if he had been struck dumb. 'But I need not speak just yet,' he +consoled himself. 'I must try to make her feel that I am of use to her, +and that she would miss me if she sent me away. My darling! I must not +risk anything by being too hasty.' + +He wrote two notes that night; one to his father, the other to Lady +Dighton, which said, + +"Do come over. I am impatient to show Lucia to you. She is more +beautiful and sweeter than ever. Of course, you will think all I say +exaggerated, so do come and judge for yourself. I want an ally. All is +right with Mrs. Costello, but I own I want courage with Lucia to "put it +to the test." Suppose after all I should lose? But I dare not think of +that." + +Mrs. Costello slept little that night. A second time within a year she +saw all her plans destroyed, her anticipations proved mistaken; the +brighter destiny she had formerly hoped for, was now within her child's +grasp. Wealth, honour, and steadfast love were laid together at her +feet. Would she gather them up? Would she be willing to give herself +into the keeping of this faithful heart which had learnt so well "to +love one maiden and to cleave to her?" The doubt seemed absurd, yet it +came and haunted the mother's meditations. She knew perfectly that Lucia +had no thought of Maurice but as a friend or brother. She could not +quite understand how it had always continued so, but she knew it had. +She had never been willing to think of her child's regard for Percy as +likely to be a lasting feeling, and at most times she really did +consider it only as a thing of the past; yet to-night it came before her +tiresomely, and she remembered what Mrs. Bellairs had told her lately +about his marriage. She resolved once to ask Maurice whether he had +heard anything of it, but, on second thoughts, she decided that it was +better to leave the matter alone. + +There was yet another person on whom Maurice's coming had made a most +lively impression. Claudine, as soon after her first sight of him as she +could get hold of Lucia, had a dozen questions to ask. "Was he +Mademoiselle's brother? Her cousin then? Only a friend? What a charming +young man! How tall he was! and what magnifiques yeux bruns! Now, +surely, Mademoiselle would not be so _triste_? She would go out a +little? and everybody would remark them, Mademoiselle being so graceful, +and monsieur so _very_ tall." + +Lucia told her mother, laughing, that she and Maurice were going to walk +up the Champs Elysees next day, with placards, saying that they were two +North Americans newly caught; and when Maurice came next morning, she +repeated Claudine's comments to him with a perfect enjoyment of the good +little woman's admiration for "ce beau Monsieur Canadien." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +After that day, Paris became quite a different place to Lucia. Maurice +was with them most of every day, and every day they saw something new, +or made some little country excursion. The weather, though still rather +cold, was fine and bright; winter had fairly given place to spring, and +all externally was so gay, sunny and hopeful, that it was quite +impossible to give way either to sad recollections of the past, or to +melancholy thoughts of the future. + +Mrs. Costello's health seemed steadily, though slowly improving; she had +now no anxiety, except that one shadowy doubt of Lucia's decision with +regard to Maurice, and that she was glad to leave for the present in +uncertainty. She felt no hesitation in letting the two young people go +where they would together; they had always been like brother and sister, +and, at the worst, they would still be that. + +When this pleasant life had lasted about ten days, Maurice came in one +morning and said, + +"What do you say to a visitor to-day, Lucia?" + +Lucia looked up eagerly with clasped hands, + +"Who?" she cried. "Not your cousin?" + +"Why not?" + +"Oh, Maurice! I am afraid of her--I am indeed. I am sure she is a +_grande dame_, and will annihilate me." + +"Silly child! She is a tiny woman, with a fair little face and not a bit +of grandeur about her. You yourself will look like a queen beside her." + +"She is your very good friend, is not she?" + +"Indeed she is. Promise me to try to like her." + +"Of course, I will try. Is she really coming here?" + +"She wishes to call this afternoon." + +Lucia looked round the room. It was nice enough, and pretty in its way +with its mirrors, gilt ornaments, and imposing clock on the mantelpiece; +but it was so small! Three people quite filled it up. But she finished +her survey with a laugh. + +"If they would only let us have less furniture!" she said. "It was all +very well as long as we had nothing better than tables and chairs to +fill up the room with; but at present--" + +She finished her sentence with a little shrug, in imitation of Claudine, +which made Maurice laugh also. He proceeded, however, to warn her that +worse was in reserve. + +"Louisa will come alone, to-day," he said, "because I told her Mrs. +Costello was an invalid, but you must expect that next time she will +bring her husband, and Sir John is no small person I assure you." + +"When did they arrive?" + +"Last night." + +"How long will they stay, do you think?" + +"Two or three weeks I imagine, but I know nothing positively of their +plans." + +"And Maurice, tell me when you must go back to England? I do not want +our pleasant life to end just as suddenly as it began." + +"Nor do I. I am not going just yet." + +"But have not you quantities of affairs to attend to, you important +person?" + +"My most serious affair at present is in Paris. Don't be afraid, I am +not forgetting my duties." + +"Then we cannot go out to-day?" + +"Put on your bonnet and come now for a walk." + +"I must ask mamma, and tell her your news. She is late this morning." + +Mrs. Costello had risen late since she came to Paris. Lucia found her +dressed and discussing some household affair with Claudine. + +"Only think, mamma," she began. "Lady Dighton came over yesterday and is +coming to see you to-day." + +But the news was no surprise to Mrs. Costello, who had received a hint +from Maurice that he wished to see his cousin and Lucia friends, before +he ventured on that decisive question to which they all, except Lucia, +were looking forward so anxiously. But she was keenly alive to the +desire that her child should make a favourable impression on this lady, +who had evidently some influence with Maurice, and who, if the +wished-for marriage took place, would become Lucia's near relative and +neighbour. She said nothing at all about this, however, and was +perfectly content that the young people should take one of those long +walks which brought such a lovely colour into her daughter's pale +cheeks, and so gave the last perfecting touch to her beauty. + +Maurice left Lucia at the door, and went back to the hotel where he had +promised Lady Dighton to lunch with her. She was waiting for him, +looking more than usually fair and pretty in the mourning she wore for +her grandfather. He could not help thinking, as he came in, how rich and +handsome everything about her seemed, in contrast to the bare simplicity +of his poorer friends--yet certainly nature had intended Lucia for a +much more stately and magnificent person than this little lady. + +"Well?" she said smiling. "Have you persuaded your friends to receive +me? I can assure you my curiosity has nearly overpowered me this +morning." + +"You will be disappointed, of course. You are imagining a heroine, and +you will see only a young country girl." + +"For shame, Maurice! If I am imagining a heroine, I wonder whose fault +it is?" + +"I wish you would not form your judgment for a week. You are enough of a +fine lady, Louisa, to be a little affected by externals, and my pearl +has no fine setting at present; it will need looking at closely to find +out its value." + +"And you think, oh most philosophical of lovers! that I am not capable +of distinguishing a real pearl unless it is set in gold, and has its +price ticketed?" + +"I think, at least, that I am so anxious to see you the same kind friend +to her as you have been to me, that I am troubling myself uselessly +about the first impressions." + +"On both sides? Well, trust me, Maurice I will like your Lucia for your +sake, and try to make her like me." + +"Thank you; I know you will. And after the first, you will not be able +to help loving her." + +"Sir John is not to go with us?" + +"Not unless you particularly wish it. Where is he?" + +"Gone out shopping. Don't laugh. I suspect his shopping is of a +different kind to mine, and quite as expensive." + +"Can anything be as expensive as the charming bonnets I heard you +talking of this morning?" + +"Take care. Only hint that I am extravagant, and I will devote myself to +corrupting Lucia, and avenge myself by making your pocket suffer." + +"I wish my pocket had anything to do with it. Pray be careful, Louisa, +and remember that I have not dared to speak to her yet." + +"I shall remember. Come to lunch now. Sir John will not be in." + +Maurice tried in vain to talk as they drove slowly along to Mrs. +Costello's. The street was full of people, and Lady Dighton amused +herself by looking out for acquaintances, and saluting those they met. A +good many English were in Paris; and she had also a pretty large circle +of French people with whom she was on friendly terms; so that she had +quite enough occupation to prevent her noticing her cousin's silence. +But the moment the carriage stopped, she was ready to give her whole +attention to him and his affairs; she gave him a little nod and smile +full of sympathy as she went up the staircase, and the moment Claudine +opened the door he perceived that he might leave everything in her hands +with the most perfect confidence in her management. + +There had been a little flutter of expectation in Lucia's mind for the +last half-hour, in which she wondered her mother did not express more +sympathy; and when, at last, the door opened, she was seized with a +sudden tremor, and for an instant felt herself deaf and blind. The +moment passed, however, and there came sweeping softly into the room a +little figure with golden hair and widely flowing draperies; a fair face +with a pleasant smile, and a clear musical voice; these were the things +that first impressed her as belonging to Maurice's formidable cousin. + +Lady Dighton's first words were of course addressed to Mrs. +Costello--they seemed to Lucia to be a plea for a welcome, as Maurice's +near relation--and then the two young women stood face to face and +exchanged one quick glance. Lady Dighton held out her hand. + +"Miss Costello," she said, "you and I are so totally unlike each other, +that I am certain we were meant to be friends--will you try?" + +The suddenness and oddity of the address struck Lucia dumb. She gave her +hand, however, to her new friend with a smile, and as she did so, her +eye caught the reflection of their two figures in a glass opposite. + +Truly, they were unlike each other--very opposites--but either because, +or in spite of the difference, they seemed to suit each other. + +Half an hour spent in calling upon or receiving a call from an entire +stranger, is generally a very heavy tax on one's good humour; but +occasionally, when the visit is clearly the beginning of a pleasant +acquaintance--perhaps a valuable friendship--things are entirely +different. Lady Dighton had come with the intention of making herself +agreeable, and few people knew better how to do it; but she found no +effort necessary, and time slipped away more quickly than she thought +possible. She stayed, in fact, until she felt quite sure her husband +would have been waiting so long as to be growing uneasy, and when she +did get up to go away, she begged Mrs. Costello and Lucia to dine with +her next day. + +"And Maurice," she said, "you must persuade Miss Costello to join us in +an excursion somewhere. It is quite the weather for long drives, and our +holiday will not be very long, you know." + +"I am entirely at your command," Maurice said, "and Lucia must do as she +is bid, so pray settle your plans with Mrs. Costello." + +But Mrs. Costello said decidedly that to dine out for herself was out of +the question--she had not done so for years. + +"Oh! I am so sorry," Lady Dighton said. "But of course we must not ask +you in that case--Miss Costello may come to us, may she not? I will take +good care of her." + +Lucia had many scruples about leaving her mother; but, however, it was +finally settled that the Dightons should call for her next day--that +they should have a long drive to some place not yet fixed upon--and that +she should afterwards spend the evening with them. + +Mrs. Costello was pleased that her child should go out a little after +her long seclusion from all society; and the whole plan was arranged +with little reference to Lucia, who vainly tried to avoid this long +absence from her mother. + +The two cousins were scarcely on their road when Lady Dighton asked-- + +"Well, Maurice, am I to reserve my opinion?" + +"As you please," he answered smiling. "I am sure it is not very +unfavourable." + +"She is wonderfully beautiful; and, what is most strange, she knows it +without being vain." + +"Vain? I should think she was not!" + +"What grace she has! With her small head and magnificent hair and eyes, +she would have had quite beauty enough for one girl without being so +erect and stately. You never gave me the idea that she was so +excessively handsome, Maurice." + +"Is she? I don't believe I knew it. You see I have known her all her +life--I know every one of her qualities, I believe, good and bad; and +all her ways. I knew she had the purest nature and the warmest, bravest +heart a woman could have; but I have thought very little about her +beauty by itself." + +"Well, then, let me tell you, she only needs to be seen--she is quite +lovely; and as for the rest, I do not know yet, but I am very much +inclined to think you may be right. At all events, we are going to be +good friends, and by-and-by I shall know all about her." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Lucia came home late in the evening. Mrs. Costello, resuming her old +habits, had sent the servant to bed, and herself admitted her daughter. +They went into the drawing-room together to talk over the day's doings. + +"You look very bright," Mrs. Costello said with her hand on Lucia's +shoulder. "You have enjoyed yourself?" + +"Yes, mamma, _so_ much. You know I was a little afraid of Lady Dighton, +and dreadfully afraid of Sir John. But they have both been so good to +me; just like people at Cacouna who had known me all my life." + +Mrs. Costello smiled. She was very glad this friendship seemed likely +to prosper. Yet it was not very wonderful that any one should like +Lucia. + +"What have you been doing?" + +"We went to Versailles, and saw the gardens. We had no time for the +Palace; but Maurice is going to take me there another day. Then we came +home and had dinner; and where do you think we have been since?" + +"Where?" + +"To the theatre! Oh, mamma, it was so nice! You know, I never was in one +before." + +Lucia clasped her hands, and looked up at her mother with such a +perfectly innocent, childish, face of delight, that it was impossible +not to laugh. + +"What a day of dissipation!" + +"Yes; but just for once, you know. And I could not help it." + +"I do not see why you should have wished to help it. How about your +French? Could you understand the play?" + +"Pretty well. It was very shocking, you know. Lady Dighton says the best +French plays always are. I cried a little, and I was so ashamed of +myself; only I saw some other people crying too, so then I did not mind +so much." + +"You did not really see much of Lady Dighton, then, if you were driving +all afternoon and at the theatre all evening?" + +"Oh! yes; we had a long talk before dinner. When we came in, she said, +'Now, Maurice, you must just amuse yourself how you can for an hour. Sir +John has English papers to read, and Miss Costello and I are going to my +room to have a chat.' So she took me off to her dressing-room, and we +were by ourselves there for quite an hour." + +"In which time, I suppose, you talked about everything in heaven and +earth." + +"I don't know. No, indeed; I believe we talked most about Maurice." + +"He is a favourite of hers." + +"She says she liked him from the first. She is so funny in her way of +describing things. She said, 'We English are horribly benighted with +regard to you colonists; and my notions of geography are elementary. +When grandpapa told me he had sent for his heir from Canada, I went to +Sir John and asked him where Canada was. He got a big map and began to +show me; but all I could understand was, that it was in North America. +I saw an American once. I suppose I must have seen others, but I +remember one particularly, for being an American; he was dreadfully thin +and had straight black hair, and a queer little pointed black beard, and +I _think_ he spoke through his nose; and really I began to be haunted by +a recollection of this man, and to think I was going to have a cousin +just like him.' Then she told me about going over to Hunsdon and finding +he had arrived. She said that before the end of the day they were fast +friends." + +"He was not like what she expected, then?" + +"Just the opposite. She made me laugh about that. She said, 'I like +handsome people, and I like an English style of beauty for men. My poor +dear Sir John is not handsome, though he has a good face; but really +when a man is good-looking _and_ looks good, I can't resist him.'" + +"You seem to have been much occupied with this question of looks. Did +you spend the whole hour talking about them?" + +"Mamma! Why that was only the beginning." + +"What was the rest, then? or some of it, at least?" + +"She told me how good Maurice was to his grandfather, and how fond Mr. +Beresford grew of him. Do you know that Maurice was just going to try to +get away to Canada at the very time Mr. Beresford had his last attack? +Lady Dighton says he was excessively anxious to go, and yet he never +showed the least impatience or disappointment when he found he could not +be spared." + +"He must have felt that he was bound to his grandfather." + +"He nursed him just like a woman, Lady Dighton says, and one could fancy +it. Could not you, mamma?" + +"I don't find it difficult to believe anything good of Maurice." + +"Oh! and then she told me about Hunsdon. She was born there, and lived +there till she was married. She told me all about why Mr. Beresford left +it to Maurice, and not to her. But, mamma, I cannot understand how +Maurice can be so long away from home. I should think he must have +quantities of things to attend to; and she told me Sir John was always +busy, though his estate is not so large as Hunsdon. Only think, mamma, +of Maurice, our Maurice, having more than ten thousand a year!" + +"Well, dear, since we have come to talking of our neighbour's fortunes, +I think we had better go to bed." + +"Oh! yes; how thoughtless I am, keeping you up so. And I must be early +to-morrow, for Lady Dighton is coming to see you, and Maurice wants me +to go with him for a walk first. Not to see anything, but just for a +walk." + +Mrs. Costello lay down that night with a great feeling of content with +regard to her daughter's future. + +"Certainly," she thought, "Maurice may be satisfied with the affection +she has for him; if it is not just the kind of love he wishes for, that +is only because it has never entered her mind that he could be anything +but a brother to her. She is so excessively childish in some things! I +shall be glad now when she really does begin to understand. Only, must I +part with her? Better that than that I should leave her alone; better +even than that she should have to go among strange relatives." + +Maurice had asked Lucia to walk with him for the sake of having her +quite to himself for an hour, and perhaps of asking that much meditated +question. He had specially bargained that they were not to "go +anywhere;" but simply to choose a tolerably quiet road and go straight +along it. Accordingly they started, and went slowly up the sunny slope +towards the great arch, talking of yesterday, and of the trifles which +always seemed interesting when they spoke of them together. After they +had passed the barrier, they hesitated a little which road to take--they +had already made several expeditions in this direction, and Lucia wanted +novelty. Finally they took the road to Neuilly, and went on for a time +very contentedly. But Maurice, after a while, fell into little fits of +silence, thinking how he should first speak of the subject most +important to him. He felt that there could be no better opportunity than +this, and he was not cool enough to reflect that it was waste of trouble +to try to choose his words, since if Lucia accepted him she would for +ever think them eloquent; and if she refused him, would be certain to +consider them stupid. She, on the other hand, was in unusually high +spirits. It had occurred to her that Lady Dighton, who seemed to know +everybody, would probably know Percy. She had begun already to lay deep +plans for finding out if this was the case, and after that, where he +was at present. She had thought of him so much lately, and so tenderly; +she had remembered so often his earnestness and her own harshness in +that last interview, that she felt as if she owed him some reparation, +and as if his love were far more ardent than hers, and must needs be +more stable also. The idea that she had advanced a step towards the +happiness of meeting him again, added the last ingredient to her +content. She could have danced for joy. + +They walked a considerable distance, and Maurice had not yet found +courage for what he wanted to say. Lucia began to think of her mother's +loneliness, and proposed to return; he would have tempted her further, +but a strange shyness and embarrassment seemed to have taken possession +of him. They had actually turned round and begun to walk towards home +before he had found a reason for not doing it. + +"Lucia," he said abruptly, after one of the pauses which had been +growing more and more frequent, "don't you wish to go over to England?" + +"Of course I do," she answered with some surprise; "I wish we _could_ +go. You know I always used to wish it." + +"Why don't you try now you are so near?" + +"Surely, Maurice, you know mamma cannot go." + +"I remember hearing something about your grandfather having wished her +not to do so. Forgive me if it is a painful subject; but do not you see +that things are quite changed now?" + +"Do you think she could, then? But I _don't_ see." + +"Her father, I suppose, wished to avoid the chance of her marriage being +gossipped about. His idea of her going back to England was naturally +that she would go among her own relations and old acquaintance who knew +the story. Now, I believe that she might go to any other part of the +island--say Norfolk, for instance--and obey his wishes just as much as +by staying in Paris." + +"To Norfolk? Why, then, we should be near you? Oh! do try to persuade +her." + +"I must have you decidedly on my side then. I must be enabled to offer +her a great inducement. If, for instance, I could tell her that you had +made up your mind to come and live in Norfolk, she might say yes." + +"Ah! but she would have to make up her mind first. See Maurice," she +broke in abruptly, "what is that little building on the other side the +road? There are some people who look like English going in." + +"Don't mind that now, I want to talk to you." + +"We have been talking. Only tell me what it is?" + +"It is a chapel built on the place where the Duke of Orleans was killed +some years ago." + +"I remember now somebody told me about it; his monument is there." + +"Very likely. I know nothing about it." + +"Oh, Maurice! to speak in that tone, when it was such a sad thing." + +"There are so many sad things--one cannot pity everybody." + +"You are cross this morning. What is the matter?" + +"Nothing. What do you want me to do?" + +"Just now I want you to take me in there. I see it is open." + +There was no help; the moment was gone. Lucia's head was full of the +unhappy Duke of Orleans, and it would, have been very bad policy, +Maurice thought, to oppose her whim. He rang the bell, and they were +admitted without difficulty into the open space in front of the chapel. +The old man who let them in pointed to the half-open door, and, saying +that his wife was in there with a party, retreated, and left them to +find their own way into the building itself. They passed quietly through +the entrance and into the soft grey light of the chapel. Lucia stopped +only to take one glance of the tiny interior, so coldly mournful with +its black draperies and chill white and grey marble, and then passed +round to examine more closely the monument which marks the very spot +where the fatal accident occurred. Maurice followed her. They stood half +concealed by the monument, and speaking low, while the tones of other +voices could be distinctly heard from the recess behind the altar where +the English visitors were examining the picture of the Duke's death. +There was one rather high-pitched female voice which broke the solemn +stillness unpleasantly, and as it became more audible, Lucia laid her +hand softly on Maurice's arm to make him listen, and looked up in his +face with eyes full of laughter. The lady was talking French to the +guide with a strong English accent and in a peculiar drawl, which had a +very droll effect. It was a manner new to them both, though Maurice +could not help thinking, as he listened, of Percy in his worst moods. + +"I am glad to have seen it," the voice said, "and quite by chance, too; +it is excessively interesting, so melancholy. Ah! you say that they laid +him just there? It makes one shudder! No, I will not go near the place; +it is too shocking." + +At the last words Maurice and Lucia saw the speaker emerge from behind +the altar on the side furthest from where they stood. She was a tall +woman, neither young nor pretty, but very fashionable--distinguished, +Lucia supposed she should be called; and but for the peculiarity of her +voice, would have made a favourable rather than an unfavourable +impression on a stranger. She stopped just at the top of the steps, and +turned round to speak again to some one behind her who was still +concealed by the altar. This time she spoke English in a lower tone, and +with a greater drawl. + +"Really, Edward," she said, "it is very small. Pray don't give the +woman much; you know how heavy our expenses are. I think I ought to +carry the purse." + +"As you please, my dear; it would save me trouble, certainly." + +At the sound of that second voice Maurice started and looked at Lucia. +She had suddenly grasped at the stonework before her, and stood looking +with passionate eagerness over the carved figure of the dying Duke +towards the altar. He almost shuddered at the intensity of that +gaze--the rigidity of intolerable suspense in her whole figure; but he +could only be still and watch her. + +The unconscious Englishwoman moved on; close behind her, following her +with his old languid manner, came the man Lucia was watching for--Edward +Percy. + +Still she never stirred. They passed down the chapel with her eyes upon +them, but they never saw her, and she made no sound or movement. Only +when they were no longer in sight, everything seemed to grow suddenly +black and confused about her--her hold upon the marble relaxed, and she +would have fallen if Maurice had not gently supported her, and drawn her +to a seat close by. + +She did not faint, though she was cold and white and powerless. After a +minute Maurice, bending over her, saw that she was trying to speak. Her +lips seemed stiff and hardly able to form the words, but he made out, + +"Who is she?" + +He hesitated a moment; but she saw that he _could_ answer, and her eyes +insisted on her question. + +"She is his wife," he answered; "they were married, I believe, a month +or six weeks ago." + +Suddenly, at his words, the blood seemed to rise with one quick rush to +her very temples. + +"You knew," she said, "and would not tell me!" + +Then after her momentary anger came shame, bitter and intolerable, for +her self-betrayal. She bent down her face on her hands, but her whole +figure shook with violent agitation. Maurice suffered scarcely less. His +love for her gave him a comprehension of all, and a sympathy unspeakable +with her pain. He laid his hand lightly on her shoulder as he had often +done in her childish troubles, but one word escaped him which he had +never spoken to her before, + +"My darling! my darling!" + +Perhaps she did not hear it; but at least she understood that through +all the pang of her loss, there remained with her one faithful and +perfect affection; and even at that moment she was unconsciously +comforted. + +But the Percys were gone, and the guide was coming back into the chapel +after a word or two at the door with her husband; Maurice had to decide +instantly what to do. He said to Lucia, + +"Wait here for me," and then going forward to meet the woman, he +contrived to make her comprehend that the lady was ill; and that he was +going for a carriage. He then hurried out, and Lucia was left alone in +the chapel with the good-natured Frenchwoman, who looked at her +compassionately and troubled her with no questions. + +For a few minutes the poor child remained too bewildered to notice +anything; but when at last she raised her head, and saw that Maurice was +not there, she grew frightened. Had she been so childish and +uncontrolled as to have disgusted even him? Had he left her, too? She +tried to get up from her seat, but she could not stand. The guide saw +her attempt, and thought it time to interfere. + +"Monsieur would be back immediately," she said. "He was gone for a +carriage. It was unfortunate madame should be taken ill so suddenly." + +Lucia smiled a very miserable kind of smile. + +"Yes," she answered, "it was unfortunate, but it was only a little +giddiness." + +And there she broke off to listen to the sound of wheels which stopped +at the gate. + +It was Maurice; and at the sight of him Lucia felt strong again. She +rose and met him as he came towards her. + +"I have got a carriage," he said. "We had walked too far. Can you go to +it?" + +She could find nothing to say in answer. He made her lean on his arm, +and took her across the court and put her into the vehicle. + +"Would you rather go alone?" he asked her. + +"Oh! no, no," she cried nervously, and in a minute afterwards they were +on their way homewards. + +When they had started, she put her hand to her head confusedly. + +"Is not it strange?" she said half to herself. "I was sure we should +meet in Paris; only I never guessed it would be to-day. Across a grave, +that was right." + +Maurice shuddered at her tone; it sounded as if she were talking in her +sleep. + +"Dear Lucia," he said, "scold me, be angry with me. I should have told +you." + +She seemed to wake at the sound of his voice, and again that burning, +painful flush covered her face and neck. + +"Oh! Maurice," she cried, "it is you who should scold me. What must you +think? But, indeed, I am not so bad as I seem." + +"It is I who have been blind. I thought you had forgotten him." + +"Forgotten him? So soon? I thought he could not even have forgotten me!" + +Maurice clenched his hand. The very simplicity of her words stirred his +anger more deeply against his successful rival. For _her_ he had still +nothing but the most pitiful tenderness. + +"Some men, Lucia, love themselves too well to have any great love for +another." + +"But he did care for me. I want to tell you. I want you to see that I +am not quite so bad--he did care for me very much, and I sent him away." + +"You refused him?" + +"Not just that. At first, you know, I thought everything could be made +to come right in time--and then mamma told me all that terrible story +about her marriage, and about the constant fear she was in; and then--I +could not tell that to him--so I said he must go away. And he did; but +he told me perhaps in a year I should change my mind. And the year is +not over yet." + +Maurice was silent. He would not, if he could help it, say one word of +evil to Lucia about this man whom she still loved; and at first he could +not trust himself to speak. + +"How did you know?" she asked. + +And he understood instinctively what she meant, and told her shortly +when and where he had seen Percy, and what he had heard from the +solicitor. + +"It is the same lady, then," she said, "that I remember hearing of." + +"Yes, no doubt. I recollect some story being told of him and her, even +in Cacouna." + +Lucia sighed heavily. She had now got over the difficulty of speaking on +the subject to Maurice. She knew so well that he was trustworthy, and +for the rest, was he not just the same as a brother? + +"He might have waited a year," she murmured. "You cannot imagine how +happy I have been lately, thinking I must see him soon!" + +"Cannot I?" Maurice cried desperately. "Listen to me, Lucia! I, too, +have been happy lately. I have been living on a false hope. I have been +deceived, and placed all my trust in a shadow. Don't you think we ought +to be able to feel for each other?" + +His vehemence and the bitterness of his tone terrified her. She laid her +little trembling hand on his appealingly. + +"What do you mean?" she whispered. + +But he had controlled himself instantly. He took hold of her hand and +put it to his lips. + +"I mean nothing," he said, "at least nothing I can tell you about at +present. Are you feeling strong enough to meet Mrs. Costello? You must +not frighten her, you know, as you did me." + +"Did I frighten you? I am so sorry and ashamed--only, you know--Yes, I +can behave well now." + +He saw that she could. Her self-command had entirely returned now. Her +grieving would be silent or kept for solitude henceforward. They had +already passed the barrier, and in a minute would stop at the door. + +"I am not coming in with you," Maurice said, "I must go on now; but I +shall see you this evening." + +He saw her inside the house and then drove away, while she little +guessed how sore a heart he took with him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +As Lucia went up the staircase, the slight stimulus of excitement which +Maurice's presence had supplied, died out, and she began to be conscious +of a horrible depression and sense of vacancy. She went up with a step +that grew more tired and languid at every movement, till she reached the +door where Claudine was having a little gossip with the concierge. + +She was glad even to be saved the trouble of ringing, and glided past +the two "like a ghaist," and came into her mother's presence with that +same weary gait and white face. It was not even until Mrs. Costello rose +in alarm and surprise with anxious questions on her lips that the poor +child became aware of the change in herself. + +"I am tired," she said. "I have such a headache, mamma," and she tried +to wake herself out of her bewilderment and look natural. + +"Where is Maurice?" + +"He is gone--he is coming back this evening, I think he said." + +Mrs. Costello guessed instantly that Maurice was the cause of Lucia's +disturbance. + +"Poor child!" she thought; "it could not help but be a surprise to her. +I wonder if all is going well?" But she dared not speak of that subject +just yet. + +"You must have walked much too far," she said aloud. "Go and lie down, +darling--I will come with you." + +Lucia obeyed. She was actually physically tired, as she said, and her +head did ache with a dull heavy pain. Mrs. Costello arranged the +pillows, drew warm coverings over her, and left her without one further +question; for she was completely persuaded of the truth of her own +surmise, and feared to endanger Maurice's hopes and her own favourite +plan by an injudicious word. She did not go far away, however, and +Lucia, still conscious of her nearness, dared not move or sigh. With her +face pressed close to the pillow, she could let the hot tears which +seemed to scald her eyes drop from under the half-closed lids; but after +a little while, the warmth and stillness and her fatigue began to have +their effect. The tears ceased to drop, the one hand which had grasped +the edge of the covering relaxed, and she dropped asleep. + +By-and-by Mrs. Costello came in softly, and stood looking at her. She +lay just like a child with her pale cheeks still wet, and the long black +lashes glistening. Her little hand, so slender and finely shaped, rested +lightly against the pillow; her soft regular breathing just broke the +complete stillness enough to give the aspect of sleep, instead of that +of death. She was fair enough, in her sweet girlish beauty and +innocence, to have been a poet's or an artist's inspiration. The +mother's eyes grew very dim as she looked at her child, but she never +guessed that there had been more than the stir of surprise in her heart +that day--that she was "sleeping for sorrow." + +It was twilight in the room when Lucia woke. She came slowly to the +recollection of the past, and the consciousness of the present, and +without moving began to gather up her thoughts and understand what had +happened to her, and why she had slept. The door was ajar, and voices +could be faintly heard talking in the salon. She even distinguished her +mother's tones, and Lady Dighton's, but there were no others. It was a +relief to her. She thought she ought to get up and go to them, but if +Maurice had been there, or even Sir John, she felt that her courage +would have failed. She raised herself up, and pushed back her disordered +hair; with a hand pressed to each temple, she tried to realize how she +had awoke that very morning, hopeful and happy, and that she had had a +dreadful loss which was _her own_--only hers, and could meet with no +sympathy from others. But then she remembered that it had met with +sympathy already--not much in words, but in tone and look and +action--from the one unfailing friend of her whole life. Maurice +knew--Maurice did not contemn her--there was a little humiliation in the +thought, but more sweetness. She went over the whole scene in the +chapel, and for the first time there came into her mind a sense of the +inexpressible tenderness which had soothed her as she sat there half +stupefied. + +"Dear Maurice!" she said to herself, and then as her recollection grew +more vivid, a sudden shame seized her--neck and arms and brow were +crimson in a moment, with the shock of the new idea--and she sprang up +and began to dress, in hopes to escape from it by motion. + +But before she was ready to leave the room her sorrow had come back, too +strong and bitter to leave place for other thoughts. The vivid hope of +Percy's faithful recollection enduring at least for a year, had come to +give her strength and courage in the very time when her youthful +energies had almost broken down under the weight of so many troubles; it +had been a kind of prop on which she leaned through her last partings +and anxieties, and which seemed to be the very foundation of her recent +content. To have it struck away from her suddenly, left her helpless and +confused; her own natural forces, or the support of others, might +presently supply its place, but for the moment she did not know where to +look to satisfy the terrible want. + +She went out, however, to face her small world, with what resolution she +could muster, and was not a little glad that the dim light would save +her looks from any close scrutiny. + +Lady Dighton had been paying a long visit to Mrs. Costello, and the two +perfectly understood each other. They both thought, also, that they +understood what had occurred that morning, and why Lucia had a headache. +Maurice had not made his appearance at his cousin's luncheon, as she +expected, but that was not wonderful. Lady Dighton, however, had said to +Mrs. Costello, + +"It is quite extraordinary to me how Lucia can have seen Maurice's +perfect devotion to her, and not perceived that it was more than +brotherly." + +Mrs. Costello did not feel bound to explain that Lucia's thoughts, as +far as they had ever been occupied at all with love, had been drawn away +in quite a different direction, so she contented herself with answering, + +"She is very childish in some things, and she has been all her life +accustomed to think of him as a brother. I knew he would have some +difficulty at first in persuading her to think otherwise." + +"He can't have failed?" + +"I hope not. She has not told me anything, and therefore I do not +suppose there is anything decisive to tell." + +After their conversation the two naturally looked with interest for +Lucia's coming. They heard her stirring, and exchanged a few more words, + +"Perhaps we shall know now?" + +"At any rate, Maurice will enlighten us when he arrives." + +Lucia came in, gliding silently through the dim light. Her quiet +movement was unconscious--she would have chosen to appear more, rather +than less, animated than usual. Lady Dighton came forward to meet her. + +"So you walked too far this morning?" she said. "I think it was a little +too bad when you knew I was coming to see you to-day." + +"I did not think I should be so tired," Lucia answered, and the friendly +dusk hid her blush at her own disingenuousness. + +"Are you quite rested, my child?" Mrs. Costello asked anxiously. + +"Yes, mamma. My head aches a little still, but it will soon be better, I +dare say. I am ashamed of being so lazy." + +"Where is Maurice?" said Lady Dighton. "I expected to have found him +here, as he did not come in for lunch." + +"Has he not been with you then? He left me at the door, and said he +would come back this evening." + +"He has not been with me, certainly, though he promised to be. I thought +you were answerable for his absence." + +Lucia did not reply. Her heart beat fast, and the last words kept +ringing in her ears, "you were answerable for his absence." Was she +answerable for _any_ doings of Maurice's? Had that morning's meeting, so +strange and sudden for her, disturbed him too? She could only be silent +and feel as if she had been accused, justly accused--but of what? + +Meanwhile, her silence, which was not that of indifference, seemed to +prove that the conjectures of the other two were right. They even +ventured to exchange glances of intelligence, but Mrs. Costello hastened +to fill up the break in the conversation. + +"Is it true," she inquired of her visitor, "that you talk of going home +next week?" + +"Yes; we only came for a fortnight at the longest; and as the affair +which brought us over seems to be happily progressing, there is no +reason for delay." + +"Oh! I am sorry," Lucia said impulsively. "Maurice goes with you, does +not he?" + +"_Cela depend_--he is not obliged to go just then, I suppose?" + +"But surely he ought. We must make him go." + +"And yet you would be sorry to lose him?" + +"Of course; only--" + +Another of those unexplained pauses! It was certainly a tantalizing +state of affairs, though, in fact, this last one did but mean, "only he +must be neglecting his affairs while he stops here." Lucia merely broke +off because she felt as if Lady Dighton might think the words an +impertinence. + +Soon after this they parted. Something was said about to-morrow, but +they finally left all arrangements to be made when Maurice should +appear, which it was supposed he would do at dinner to the Dightons, and +after it to the Costellos. + +Dinner had been long over in the little apartment in the Champs Elysees +when Maurice arrived there. The mother and daughter were sitting +together as usual, but in unusual silence--Lucia absorbed in thought, +Mrs. Costello watching and wondering, but still refraining from asking +questions. Maurice came in, looking pale and tired. Lucia got up, and +drew a chair for him near her mother. It was done with a double object; +she wanted to express her grateful affection, and she wanted to manage +so as to be herself out of his sight. He neither resisted her +man[oe]uvre nor even saw it, but sat down wearily and began to reply to +her mother's questions. + +"I have been out of town. I had seen nothing of the country round Paris, +so I thought I would make an excursion." + +"An excursion all alone?" + +"Yes; I have been to St. Denis." + +"How did you go?" + +"By rail. I started to come back by an omnibus I saw out there, but I +did not much care about that mode of conveyance, so I got out and +walked." + +"Have you seen Lady Dighton?" + +"I have seen no one. I am but just come back." + +"Maurice! Have you not dined, then?" + +"No. Never mind that. I will have some tea with you, please, by-and-by." + +But Lucia had received a glance from her mother, and was gone already to +try what Claudine's resources could produce. Mrs. Costello leaned +forward, and laid her hand entreatingly on Maurice's arm, + +"Tell me what all this means?" she said. + +He tried to smile as he returned her look, but his eyes fell before the +earnestness of hers. + +"What what means?" he asked. + +"Both you and Lucia know something I don't know," she answered. "I would +rather question you than her. Has she troubled you?" + +"Not in the way you think," he answered quickly. "I have partly changed +my plans. I shall be obliged to go back to England with my cousin. Don't +question Lucia, dear Mrs. Costello, let her be in peace for awhile." + +"In peace? But she has been in peace--happy as the day was long, +lately." + +"She is disturbed now--yes, it is my fault--and I will do penance for +it. You understand I do not give up my hopes--I only defer them." + +"But, Maurice, I _don't_ understand. You are neither changeable, nor +likely to give Lucia any excuse for being foolish. Why should you go +away? She exclaimed how sorry she was when your cousin spoke of it." + +"Did she? But I am only a brother to her yet. Don't try to win more +just now for me, lest she should give me less." + +"Well, of course, you know your own affairs best. But it is totally +incomprehensible to me." + +Maurice leaned his head upon his hands. He had had a miserable day, and +was feeling broken down and wretched. He spoke hopefully, but in his +heart he doubted whether it would not be better to give Lucia up at once +and altogether, only he had a strong suspicion that to give her up was +not a thing within the power of his will. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +The evening passed in constraint and embarrassment. Mrs. Costello was +both puzzled and annoyed; Maurice, worn out in mind and body, and only +resolute to shield Lucia at his own expense; Lucia herself more +thoroughly uncomfortable than she had ever been in her life. She partly +understood Maurice's conduct, but doubted its motives. Sometimes she +thought he was influenced by his old dislike to Percy, and that even his +kindness to herself was mixed with disapproval or contempt. Sometimes a +suspicion of the truth, so faint and so unreasonable in her own eyes, +that she would not acknowledge it for a moment, flashed across her mind; +and this suspicion had its keenly humiliating as well as its comforting +side. Besides the confusion of thoughts regarding these things, her mind +was burdened with an entirely new trouble--the sense that she was +concealing something from her mother; and this alone would have been +quite sufficient to disturb and distress her. + +So the three who had been so happy for the last few weeks sat together, +with all their content destroyed. Maurice thought bitterly of the old +Canadian days, which had been happy, too, and to which Percy's coming +had brought trouble. + +"It is the same thing over again," he said to himself; "but why such a +fellow as that should be allowed to do so much mischief is a problem _I_ +can't solve. A tall idiot, who could not even care for her like a man!" + +But he would not allow himself any hard thoughts of Lucia. Perhaps he +had had some during his solitary day, but he had no real cause for them, +and he was too loyal to find any consolation in blaming her. And it +never would have come into his head to solace himself with the "having +known _me_." He valued his own honest, unaltering love at a reasonable +but not an excessive, price--himself at a very low one; and as Lucia +understood nothing of the one, he did not wonder that she should slight +the other. And yet he was very miserable. + +Ten o'clock came at last, and he went away. After he was gone, Lucia +came to her mother's knee, and sat down, resting her aching head against +the arm of the chair. The old attitude, and the soft clinging touch, +completely thawed the slight displeasure in Mrs. Costello's heart. + +"Something is wrong, darling," she said. "If you do not want to tell me, +or think you ought not, remember I do not ask any questions; but you +have never had a secret from me." + +Lucia raised her mother's hand, and laid it on her forehead. + +"I ought to tell you, mamma," she said, "and I want to; but yet I don't +like." + +"Why?" + +"You will be so angry; no, not that, perhaps, but you will be shocked, +and yet I could not help it." + +"Help what? Do you know, Lucia, that you are really trying me now?" + +"Oh, mamma, no! I am not worth caring so much about." + +"Have you and Maurice quarrelled?" + +"Maurice! No, indeed. He is the best friend anybody ever had." + +"What is it, then?" + +"Mamma, do you remember what happened that first night at Cacouna?" + +"What first night?" Mrs. Costello pressed her hand upon her heart, which +began to beat painfully. + +"The night when you told me about my father." + +"Yes; I remember. Go on." + +"And the next day?" + +"Yes. Don't tell me that you still regret it." + +"Mamma, I have seen him again." + +"To-day?" + +"To-day. At the chapel of St. Ferdinand." + +"Did he know you? Did you speak to him?" + +"No. He did not see us. He was thinking nothing of me." + +"He ought not to think of you." + +"Nor I of him. He is married." + +"I knew that he either was, or was about to be." + +"You have heard of him, then, since?" Lucia raised her head sharply, and +looked at her mother. + +"Mrs. Bellairs told me. They had heard it indirectly." + +"If you had only told me!" Her head sank lower than before. + +"My darling, I may have been mistaken. I have been so, many times; but I +wished to avoid mentioning him to you. I hoped you were forgetting." + +"Never; never for an hour," she said, half to herself. "No, mamma, for I +thought he had not forgotten." + +"But you sent him away yourself, my child. Remember, you would not even +let me see him. He could not have supposed that you meant your answer to +be anything but decisive." + +"I did mean it to be decisive; but he refused to take it so. He said, +'Perhaps in a year;' and it is not a year yet." + +Mrs. Costello listened in utter surprise. Lucia had much to say now. +Broken words and sentences, which showed, by degrees, how her mind, as +it recovered from the shock of other troubles, had gone back to dwell +upon the hope of Percy's return, and which explained more fully why she +had been so utterly blind to the schemes which were formed around her. +In one point only she failed. She did not, with all her own faith in it, +convey to her mother the impression of Percy's real earnestness in their +last interview. That he had really loved her, she still believed; but +she did not at all understand his shallow and easily-influenced +character. Mrs. Costello, on the other hand, was predisposed to take the +worst view, and to congratulate herself upon it, since it had helped to +leave Lucia free. But not believing that the poor girl had been the +object of a genuine, though transient passion, she for once was ready to +judge her hardly, and to accuse her of having been wilfully and +foolishly deceived. + +There was a bitter pang to the mother's heart in thinking this; but the +recollections of her own youth made the idea the less improbable to her, +and made her also the gentler, even in her injustice. She said not a +word of blame, but coaxed from her child the story of the meeting that +morning, that she might find out how much Maurice had seen or heard of +the truth. He understood _all_. Lucia said so frankly, though she +blushed at the confession; he had not needed to be told, and he had been +so good! + +Mrs. Costello could have groaned aloud. It needed an effort to keep +still, and not express the anger and impatience she felt. Maurice! +Maurice, who was worth fifty Percys! Maurice, who was devoted heart and +soul to this girl; who had been content to love her and wait for her, +through good and evil fortune, through change and absence and silence, +and, after all, she had no feeling for him but this heartless kind of +gratitude! Because at the very last, when he had thought her certainly +his own, he had endured, out of his great love, to see all his hopes +swept away, and her grieving for his rival; therefore he had just so +much claim upon her--"He was so good!" + +There was little more said. When once Lucia had told her story, and when +Mrs. Costello had discovered that Maurice understood all, neither of +them cared to talk on the subject. They went to bed with a cloud between +them, after all. Mrs. Costello kept her secret still, and pondered over +the question whether there might yet possibly be hope, since Maurice had +said he had only deferred his wishes, not relinquished them. Lucia was +aware that her trouble was still her own exclusively--not shared by any +one, even her mother. She thought of Percy--she longed to know how long +he had thought of her--how, and why he had changed; and deep down in her +heart there was a little disturbed wondering at Maurice's +tenderness--that very tenderness which Mrs. Costello marvelled she did +not see. + +Maurice did not see his cousin that night. He went straight to his room, +and without thinking, locked the door, put out the candles except one, +and sat down in the gloom. His eyes and head ached--he felt weary and +utterly dispirited. He had rushed away that morning after leaving Lucia +at home, and found himself by the merest chance at St. Denis. He had got +out there because his fellow-passengers did so, though at the railway +station he had taken a ticket for a place much further on along the +line. He had looked about the little town, and seen, in a blind +blundering kind of way, the Cathedral. He had come out, with about +half-a-dozen more visitors, and seeing an omnibus starting for Paris, +had got into it, because it would take longer than the train--then after +a while had got out again, because he could not bear the slow motion and +perpetual babble of talk inside. But through all, and still more in his +solitary walk, he had been thinking--thinking perpetually; and, after +all, his thinking seemed yet to do. He would go back to England--that +was necessary and right, whatever else might be. He was wanted there, as +the pile of letters on his writing-table could testify. His father, too, +was solitary at Hunsdon--and his business in Paris was over. But the +Dightons would not go for some days, and he could not very well leave +them after they had come over for his sake. He would have to stay, +therefore, till they went; he would have to go on seeing the Costellos. +He tried to fancy he was sorry for this, but the attempt was a very poor +one. For a few days he would have to go on just as usual, and after that +he would go home, and do what? That was just the question. + +Ought he to go on hoping now? Had not he done all he could do? Was it +probable that a girl who had loved another man--and that man, +Percy--faithfully for a whole year on the mere possibility that he might +have remained faithful to her, and who had been throughout blind and +insensible to a regard deeper and purer than his had ever been, would be +able to transfer her heart whole and undivided as he must have it if he +had it at all? He dared not think it. "No, I have lost her at last!" he +said to himself, "and she is the one only woman in the world." + +Then he remembered, as if the reminder had been whispered in his ear, a +promise he had made. It was one day during Mr. Beresford's illness, when +his mind was a little clearer than usual. He had been trying feebly to +return to his old interests, and speaking in his weak broken tones, +about the future. He grew very tired after awhile, and Maurice persuaded +him to try to sleep, but there was yet another thing to be said. + +"You must marry soon, Maurice." + +"I am young, sir, there is no hurry." + +"No--only let it be soon." + +"I must first find the lady." + +"I thought I could have helped you--but it is too late." Maurice was +silent. + +"You _will_ marry?" and the old man tried to raise himself in his +earnestness. + +"I hope to do so." + +"Don't talk of hoping--it is a duty, positive duty." + +"I mean to do so, then, grandfather." + +"Say 'I will'--promise me." + +"If I both hope and intend it, sir, is that not enough?" + +"No, no. Promise." + +"Well then, I promise." + +The invalid was satisfied, and in a few minutes dropped asleep, and the +conversation almost passed from his grandson's mind. + +Now, however, he remembered it, as having bound him to something which +might be a lifelong misery. He was young still; as he had said, there +was time enough. But would any time make Lucia other than the first with +him? + +At last he got up and began to pace up and down the room, pushing first +one, and then another article of furniture aside to make room for his +walk. + +"There is at least no further reason why she should not know all" he +meditated. "Since my chance is gone, I cannot make matters worse by +speaking, and it will be a relief to tell her." He paused, dwelling on +the idea of his speaking and her listening--how differently from what he +had thought of before--and then went on--"To-morrow is as good as any +other time. To-morrow I will ask her to go out with me again--our last +walk together." + +He stopped again. At last he grew tired even of his own thoughts. He +lighted his candles again, and sat down to write letters. First to his +father, to say that he was coming home, to give him all the news, to +speak just as usual of the Costellos--even specially of Lucia; then to +his agent, and to other people, till the streets began to grow noisy and +the candles to burn dim in the dawn. + +Then he lay down, and fell into a deep, heavy sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +Maurice was scarcely awake next morning when a little note was brought +him from his cousin. It was only two or three lines written late the +night before, when she found that he did not come to their common +sitting-room. It said, "What has come to all the world? I go to Mrs. +Costello's, and find Lucia with a violent headache, and with her ideas +apparently much confused. I come home, and hear and see nothing of you +till night, when I am told you have gone to your room without stopping +for a moment to satisfy my curiosity. You will be at breakfast? I want +to see you. LOUISA." + +He twisted the dainty sheet of paper round his fingers, while he slowly +recalled the events of yesterday up to the point of his last decision, +to see Lucia to-day and tell her how grievously he had been +disappointed, and what she had been and still was to him. But then came +the natural consequence of this; he would still, afterwards, have to +meet both Lucia and her mother constantly for some days, and to behave +to them just as usual. It had seemed to him already that to do so would +be difficult; now he began to think it impossible. What to do then? To +keep silence now and always, or to speak and then go away home, where he +was needed? He must lose her sweet company--sweet to him still. He +_must_ lose it, and what matter whether a few days sooner or later? It +was better to see her once again, and go. + +He dressed hastily and went to the breakfast-room. Sir John always took +an early stroll, and might not yet be back; was not, in fact, and Lady +Dighton was there alone. Maurice only saw so much before he began to +speak. + +"I am sorry," he said, "that you expected me last night. I came in very +tired, and went straight to bed." + +"We waited dinner some time for you," Lady Dighton answered, "and you +know how punctual Sir John is; but never mind now. You are looking ill, +Maurice." + +"I am quite well. I am afraid I must go back to England though. Should +you think me a barbarian if I started to-night and left you behind?" + +"Is something wrong? Your father is well?" + +"Quite well. But--I had letters last night. I am not certain that I must +go, only I thought you ought to know at once that I might have to do +so." + +"And Lucia? What will she say?" + +"I don't know. You will not tell her, please?" + +"Certainly not. I do not like carrying bad news. But you will see her no +doubt before I do." + +Maurice hesitated a moment, and then made boldly a request which had +been in his mind. + +"I want to see her. I should like to see her this morning if I could. +Will you help me?" + +"You don't generally require help for that. But I suppose the fact is, +you want to see her alone?" + +"Exactly." + +"I own I fancied you had settled your affairs yesterday; however, I +_can_ help you, I think. Mrs. Costello half promised to go out with me +some morning. I will go and try to carry her off to-day." + +"You are always kind, Louisa. What should I do without you?" + +"Ah! that is very pretty just now. By-and-by we shall see how much value +you have for me." + +"Yes, you shall see." + +"But seriously, Maurice, you look wretched. One would say you had not +slept for a week." + +"On the contrary, I slept later than usual to-day. It is that, I +suppose, which makes me look dull. Here is Sir John. What time will your +drive be?" + +They fixed the time, and as soon as breakfast was finished, Maurice went +back to his room. He tore up the letters he had written last night, and +wrote others announcing his return home, took them to the post himself, +and then walked about in sheer inability to keep still, until it should +be time to go to Mrs. Costello's. + +He made a tolerably long round, choosing always the noisiest, busiest +streets, and came back to the hotel just as his cousin drove away. He +followed her carriage, and passed it as it stood at Mrs. Costello's +door, went on to the barrier, and coming back, found that it had +disappeared. Now, therefore, probably Mrs. Costello was gone, and now, +if ever, was his opportunity. + +When Claudine opened the door for "ce beau monsieur" she was aghast. He +was positively "beau" no longer. He was pale and heavy-eyed. He actually +seemed to have grown thinner. Even his frank smile and word of +wonderfully English French had failed him. She went back to her kitchen +in consternation. "Ce pauvre monsieur! C'est affreux! Something is wrong +with him and mademoiselle. Ma foi, if _I_ had such a lover!" + +Mrs. Costello was gone, and Lucia sat alone, and very dreary. At +Maurice's entrance she rose quickly; but kept her eyes averted so that +his paleness did not strike her as it had done others. She coloured +vividly, with a mixture of shame, pride, and gladness, at his coming; +but she only said "Good morning," in a low undemonstrative tone, and +they both sat down in silence. + +She had some little piece of work in her hands, but she did not go on +with it, only kept twisting the thread round her fingers, and wondering +what he would say; whether now that they were alone, he would refer to +Percy; whether he would use his old privilege of blaming her when she +did wrong. + +But she was not struck down helplessly now as she had been at first +yesterday. She had begun to feel the stings of mortified pride, and was +ready to turn fiercely upon anybody who should give her provocation. + +Maurice spoke first. + +"I came to say good-bye," he said. "I am obliged to go home." + +His words sounded curt and dry, just because he had such difficulty in +making them steady at all, and she looked at him in her surprise, for +the first time. + +"Not to-day? Is anything the matter?" + +"Nothing is the matter there. I told you I had business in Paris. Well, +it is finished." + +"And you are going to-day?" + +"I start this evening." + +"We shall miss you." + +She felt a strange constraint creeping over her. She could not even +express naturally her sorrow and disappointment at his going. She began +again to have the feeling of being guilty, and accused, and being eager +to defend herself without knowing how. + +"I shall not be far off, and you will know where to find me. When you +want me, for whatever reason, you have only to write and I will come." + +"But I always want you," she answered half pettishly. "You said you +would stay at least till Lady Dighton went away." + +Maurice got up and walked to the window. + +"I miscalculated," he said, coming back. "We all do sometimes, I +suppose." + +He stood in a favourite attitude, leaning with one arm on the +mantelpiece, and watching Lucia with a mixture of love and bitterness. +His last words seemed to her a taunt, and tears of anger filled her +eyes. She remained silent, and he had to speak again. + +"Do you care to know," he asked her, "what my business in Paris was?" + +"If you wish to tell me!" + +"Lucia! do not I wish to tell you everything? Could I have kept a secret +which was always in my thoughts from you, do you suppose?" + +Lucia half rose. "That is not generous," she said. "You have no right to +speak so. Yesterday you were kinder." + +"Yesterday I only thought of you. To-day I have had time to think a +little of myself." + +"No doubt you are right. Only you ought not to have come to Paris--at +least not to us. It would have been better if everything that belonged +to our old life had been lost together." + +"Which means that you are quite willing to lose me?" + +"Willing? No. But I can understand that it is better." + +"Can you? You talk of losses--listen to what I have lost. You know what +my life in Canada used to be--plenty of work, and not much money--but +still reasonable hope of prosperity by-and-by. I used to make plans +then, of having a home of my own, and I was not content that it should +be just like other people's. I thought it would be the brightest, +warmest, happiest home in the world. I _knew_ it would be if I only got +what I wanted. A man can't have a home without a wife. I knew where my +wife was to be found if ever I had one at all; and she was so sweet and +good, and let me see so frankly that she liked and trusted me, that +I--it was all vanity, Lucia--I never much doubted that in time I should +make her love me." + +He stopped. Lucia was looking at him eagerly. Even yet she did not quite +understand. "Go on," she said. + +"There was my mistake," he continued. "I might have won her then +perhaps. But there came a visitor to the neighbourhood. He was +handsome--at least women said so--and could make himself agreeable. He +knew all about what people call the world--he had plenty of talk about +all sorts of small topics. He was a very fine gentleman in fact, and you +know what I was. Well, naturally enough, he wanted amusement. He looked +about for it, I suppose, and was attracted by what had attracted +me--no--I do not believe even that, for I loved her goodness, and he +must have been caught by her beauty. At any rate, I had to go away and +leave him near her; and I heard after a while that he was gone. That was +late in autumn. Very early this year, I heard of his marriage; and I +thought she had been unharmed. + +"My grandfather died, and I was rich enough to make that home I dreamed +of, fit for its mistress. I went to find her. I found her, as I thought, +lovelier and sweeter than ever. She seemed to feel more than ever that I +was of some use and value to her--she made me believe that, next to her +mother, she loved me best in the world. I delayed asking her to be my +wife, only because our days were so happy, that I feared to disturb +them--but I thought she was certainly mine. + +"Then, all at once, this man, this Percy, who had left her in her +trouble--who was married--made his appearance, and I knew that she had +loved him all the while--that she had never cared for me!" + +Long ago, Lucia had clasped her hands before her face. She sat trembling +and cowering before this accuser. Involuntarily she said in her heart, +"This is the true love. I have been blind--blind!"--but her words were +frozen up--she bent forward as if under a blow--but made no sound. + +Maurice himself remained silent for a few minutes. He had spoken under a +strong impulse of excitement, he hardly knew how. He, too, leaned his +head upon his hand, but from under it he still watched the trembling +girlish figure, which was the dearest thing in the world to him. +Presently he saw a tear steal out from between her small fingers and +fall glittering upon the black dress she wore. He moved uneasily--he had +been surely very harsh. Another tear fell--tear of bitter humiliation, +good for her to shed--then a third. He could not endure it. She might +not love him, but that was no reason why he should turn her sisterly +affection into hate. So he went to her, and laid his hand softly on one +of hers, trying to draw it away. She let him do so after a moment, but +her face remained just as much hidden. + +"Lucia!" he said, full of distress, "Lucia! speak to me." + +She could not--all her efforts were needed to keep down the painful +swelling in her throat. She was fighting for power to say humbly, "Try +to forgive me," but he did not give her time. + +"If you would only say good-bye--only one word;" and he almost knelt +beside her, raising her cold hand half-unconsciously to his lips. + +She drew it away suddenly. His tenderness was the worst reproach of all. +Her sobs burst out without control. She rose. "No; rather forgive me," +she tried to say, but her voice was choked and hardly audible; and she +fled from the room, hurrying into her own, and fell down on the floor at +the bedside. + +Maurice waited for awhile, thinking she might come back. He sat down +near where her chair stood, and leaning both elbows on the table, tried +to calm himself after the terrible excitement. Lucia's tears and her +silence had utterly disarmed him--he called himself a brute for having +distressed her. But as time went on, and she did not return, he +remembered that he could not just then meet Mrs. Costello, and he got up +and began to walk about the room uneasily. Still, time went on, and +there was no sign of Lucia. He wished to knock at her door, but dared +not. He must go then without one good-bye! + +"That is my own fault at any rate," he said, and went away softly, +without even seeing Claudine. + +But, as it happened, Mrs. Costello was long coming back. Lady Dighton +had confided to her Maurice's wish to see Lucia alone, and the two +ladies, very happy and confidential over their schemes, both supposing +that nothing but good could come of a long talk between the young +people--prolonged their absence till more than two hours after Maurice +had returned to the hotel. So that his preparations for leaving Paris +were almost completed by the time that Lucia, hearing her mother's +entrance, came out of the solitude where she had hidden her tears and +her repentance. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Lucia tried to hide the traces of her tears, but the attempt was not +particularly successful. Mrs. Costello saw at once that something was +wrong; she asked whether Maurice had been there, and was told briefly +yes, but she delayed any other questions for two reasons. One was, that +merely saying that "Yes" had brought a quiver over Lucia's face, and the +other, that she herself was tired and had got into a habit of dreading +any kind of excitement. She felt a presentiment that there was nothing +pleasant to hear, and at the same time was quite sure that whatever +there was, her daughter would be unable to keep long from her. + +She allowed Lucia to carry away her bonnet and shawl, and arrange her +comfortably on the sofa for a rest. Then she began to describe her +drive, and the shops at which Lady Dighton had been making various +purchases. Lucia listened, and tried to be interested, and to lose the +sense of shame and mortification mixed with real compunction, which was +making her wretched. But her heart ached, and besides, she had cried, +sitting all alone on her bedroom floor, till she was exhausted and half +blind. All the while her mother talked, she kept thinking of +Maurice--she neither called him "Poor Maurice," in her thoughts, nor +"Dear Maurice"--but only "Maurice, Maurice," over and over again--her +friend who was gone from her, whom she had justly lost. + +But when she was growing more and more absorbed in her own regrets, and +her mother's voice was beginning to sound to her like one in a dream, +there came a sudden sharp ring at the door-bell. Could it be Maurice? +She grew red as fire while she listened--but the door opened and shut, +and there were no steps but Claudine's in the hall. + +The maid came in. "A letter for madame, and a packet for +mademoiselle,"--both directed by Maurice. + +Lucia took hers to the window. She scarcely dared to open it, but she +feared to appear to hesitate. Slowly she broke the seals, and found a +tiny morocco case and a note. She hardly looked at the case, the note +would be Maurice's farewell, and she did not know whether it would bring +reproach or forgiveness with it. It was not long--even with her dazzled +eyes, she was not more than a minute reading it. + + + +"My dear old playfellow and pupil"--it began--"I cannot leave Paris +without saying 'Good-bye,' and asking you to forgive me, not for what I +said this morning, but for the way in which I said it. If you cannot +love me (and I understand now that you cannot) it is not your fault; and +I ought to have remembered that, even when it seemed hardest. I cannot +stay here now; but you will recollect that if ever you _want_ me--as a +friend or brother, you know--a single line will be enough to bring me to +your help. Finally, I beg of you, for the sake of old times, to wear the +ring I send. I bought it for you--you ought to have no scruple in +accepting a keepsake from your oldest friend, MAURICE LEIGH." + + + +In the little box was the ring bought so long ago in Liverpool. It +flashed, as if with the light of living eyes, as Lucia opened the lid. +She regarded it for a moment almost with fear, then took it out and +placed it on her finger--the third finger of her left hand. It fitted +perfectly, and seemed to her like the embodiment of a watchful guardian +who would keep her from wrong and from evil. She fancied this, though +just then two or three drops fell heavily from her eyes, and one rested +for a moment on the very diamonds themselves. + +Mrs. Costello's note was longer than Lucia's, and she read it twice +over, before she was sure that she comprehended it. Then she called +sharply "Lucia!" + +"Come here," she said, as the girl turned her face reluctantly; and +there was nothing to do but to obey. Lucia came to the side of the sofa, +where her mother had raised herself up against the cushions, but she +trembled so, that to steady herself she dropped down on her knees on a +footstool. Her right arm rested on the table, but the other hand, where +the ring was, lay hidden in the folds of her dress. + +"What does this mean, Lucia?" Mrs. Costello asked in a tone which she +had never in her life used to her daughter before. "Are you out of your +senses?" + +Lucia was silent. She could almost have said yes. + +"You know of course that Maurice is gone?" + +"Yes I know it," she answered just audibly. + +"Gone, and not likely to return?" + +"He tells me so." + +"What have you said to him?" + +"Nothing." + +"Nothing! That is absurd. Why did he wish to see you alone to-day?" + +"To tell _me_ something," Lucia said with a little flash of opposition +awakened by her mother's anger. + +"Yes--I thought so. To tell you something which, to any girl in the +world who was not inconceivably blind or inconceivably vain, would have +been the best news she ever heard in her life. And you said _nothing_?" + +"Mamma, it is over. I can't help it." + +"So he says--he, who is not much in the habit of talking nonsense, says +this to me. Just listen. 'We have both made the mistake of reasoning +about a thing with which reason has nothing to do. I see the error now +too late for myself, but not, I hope, too late to leave her in peace. +Pray do not speak to her about it at all.' But it is my duty to speak." + +"Mamma, Maurice is right. It is too late." + +"It is not too late for him to get some little justice; and it is not +too late for you to know what you have lost." + +"Oh! I do know," she cried out. "But even if there had been no other +reason, how could I have been different? He never told me till to-day." +And she clasped her two hands together on the edge of the table and hid +her face on them. + +Mrs. Costello leaned a little more forward, and touched her daughter's +arm. + +"I must speak to you about this, Lucia," she said. "I do not want to be +harsh, but you ought to know what you have done. And, good heavens! for +what? A stranger, a mere coxcomb comes in your way, and you listen to +his fine words, and straight begin to be able to see nothing but him, +though the most faithful, generous heart a girl ever had offered to her +is in your very hand! _I_ was bad enough--but I had no such love as +Maurice's to leave behind me." + +Again Lucia moved, without speaking. As she did so, the ring on her hand +flashed. + +"What is that on your finger?" Mrs. Costello asked. + +"Maurice's ring. _He_ was not so hard on me." + +"Hard?" Mrs. Costello was pressing her hand more and more tightly to her +side. "Child, it is you that have been hard with your unconscious ways." + +But Lucia had found power to speak at last. + +"After all," she said obstinately, "I neither see why I should be +supposed to have done wrong, nor why anybody else should be spoken of +so. It is no harm, and no shame," she went on, raising her head, and +showing her burning cheeks, "for a girl to like somebody who cares very +much for her; and I think she would be a poor creature if she did not go +on caring for him as long as she believed he was true to her." + +The little spark of pride died out with the last words, and there was a +faint quiver in her voice. + +"Maurice would say so himself," she ended, triumphantly. + +"Of course he would. But I don't see that Maurice would be a fair judge +of the case. The question is, what does a girl deserve who has to choose +between Maurice and Percy, and chooses Percy?" + +Lucia recoiled. She could hardly yet bear to hear the name she had been +dreaming over so long spoken in so harsh a way, and still less to hear +it coupled in this way with Maurice's. + +"Maurice will soon find somebody else," she said. "He is not a poor man, +mamma, that he should mind so much." + +Mrs. Costello half rose from the sofa. Pain and anger together +overpowered her. She stood up for a moment, trying to speak, and then +suddenly fell back, fainting. + +Lucia sprang from her knees. Was her mother dead? It was possible, she +knew. Had they parted for ever in anger? But the idea, from its very +horror, did not affect her as a lighter fear might have done. She +brought remedies, and called Claudine to help her, in a kind of calm. +They tried all they could think of, and at last there came some feeble +return of life. But the agitation and fatigue of the day had been too +much for such strength as hers to rally from. One fainting fit +succeeded another, with scarcely a moment's interval. + +All evening it was the same. A doctor came, and stayed till the attacks +ceased; but when he went away, his patient lay, white and almost +unconscious even of Lucia's presence. It was terrible sitting there by +the bedside, and watching for every slight movement--for the hope of a +word or a smile. It was consolation unspeakable when, late at night, +Mrs. Costello opened her eyes, free from the bewildered look of +suffering, and, seeing her child's pale face beside her, put out her +hand, and said softly, "My poor Lucia!" + +After that she dropped asleep, and Lucia watched till early morning. It +was the first of such watches she had ever kept, and the awful stillness +made her tremble. Often she got up from her seat to see if her mother's +breathing still really went on; it seemed difficult to believe that +there was any stir whatever of life in the room. In those long hours, +too, she had time to revert to the doings of the past day--to remember +both Maurice's words and her mother's, and to separate, to some degree, +the truth from all exaggeration. Her mind seemed to go back also, with +singular clearness, to the time of Percy's coming to Cacouna, and even +earlier. She began to comprehend the significance of trifles, which had +seemed insignificant at the time, and to believe in the truth of what +Maurice had told her, that even then he was building all his hopes on +the possibility of her loving him. She wondered at herself now, as +others had wondered at her; but she still justified herself: "He was my +brother--my dearest friend. _He_," and this time she did not mean +Maurice, "was the first person who ever put any other ideas into my +head. And I have lost them both." But already the true love had so far +gained its rights, that it was Maurice, far more than Percy, of whose +loss she thought. Once that night, when she had sat quite without moving +for a long time, and when her meditations had grown more and more +dreary, she suddenly raised her hand, and her ring flashed out in the +gloom. By some instinct she put it to her lips; it seemed to her a +symbol of regard and protecting care, which comforted her strangely. + +When the night was past, and Claudine came early in the morning to take +Lucia's place, Mrs. Costello still slept; and the poor child, quite worn +out--pale and shivering in the cold dawn--was glad to creep away to +bed, and to her heavy but troubled slumber. + +All that day the house was kept silent and shut up. Mrs. Costello had +been much tried, the doctor thought, and needed a complete calm in which +to recover herself. With her old habit of self-command she understood +this, and remained still, almost without speaking, till some degree of +strength should return. Lucia tended her with the most anxious care, and +kept her troubled thoughts wholly to herself. + +About two o'clock Lady Dighton came. Hearing that Mrs. Costello was ill, +she begged to see Lucia, who came to her, looking weary and worn, but +longing to hear of Maurice. + +It seemed, however, as if she were not to be gratified. Lady Dighton was +full of concern and kind offers of assistance, but she said nothing of +her cousin until just as she went away. Then she did say, "You know that +Maurice left us yesterday evening? I miss him dreadfully; but I dare say +he thinks much more of whether other people miss him." + +She went, and they were alone again. So alone, as they had never been +while Maurice was in Paris, when he might come in at any moment and +bring a cheerful breath from the outer world into their narrow and +feminine life,--as he would never come again! 'Oh,' Lucia thought, 'why +could not he be our friend always--just our own Maurice as he used to +be--and not have these miserable fancies? We might have been so happy!' + +Towards night Mrs. Costello had greatly revived. She was able to sit up +a little, and to talk much as usual. She did not allude at all to her +last conversation with her daughter, and Lucia herself dared not renew +so exciting a subject. But all anger seemed to have entirely passed away +from between them. They were completely restored to their old natural +confidence and tenderness; and that was a comfort which Lucia's terror +of last night made exquisitely sweet to her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Two or three days passed before its former tranquillity was restored to +the apartment in the Champs Elysees. Its "_former_ tranquillity," +indeed, did not seem to come back at all. There were new elements of +discomfort and disturbance at work, even more than in the days before +Maurice came, and when Mrs. Costello both feared and hoped for his +coming. He was never mentioned now, except during Lady Dighton's daily +visit. She, much mystified, and not sure whether Lucia was to be pitied +or blamed, was too kind-hearted not to sympathize with her anxiety for +her mother, and she therefore came constantly--first to inquire for, and +then to sit with Mrs. Costello, insisting that Lucia should take that +opportunity of going out in her carriage. + +These drives gave the poor child not only fresh air, but also a short +interval each day in which she could be natural, and permit herself the +indulgence of the depression which had taken possession of her. She felt +certain that her mother, though she treated her with her usual +tenderness, still felt surprised and disappointed by her conduct. +Maurice also, who had been always so patient, so indulgent, had gone +away in trouble through her; he had reproached her, perhaps justly, and +had given up for ever their old intimacy. She was growing more and more +miserable. If ever, for a moment, she forgot her burden, some little +incident was sure to occur which brought naturally to her lips the +words, 'I wish Maurice were here;' and she would turn sick with the +thought, 'He never will be here again, and it is my fault.' + +So the days went on till the Dightons left Paris. They did so without +any clear understanding having reached Lady Dighton's mind of the state +of affairs between Maurice and Lucia. All she actually knew was that +Maurice had been obliged to go home unexpectedly, and that ever since he +went Lucia had looked like a ghost. And as this conjunction of +circumstances did not appear unfavourable to her cousin's wishes, and as +she had no hint of those wishes having been given up, she was quite +disposed to continue to regard Lucia as the future mistress of Hunsdon. + +However, she was not sorry to leave Paris. Her visit there, with regard +to its principal object, had been rather unsatisfactory; at all events +it had had no visible results, and she liked results. She wanted to go +home and see how Maurice reigned at Hunsdon, and tell her particular +friends about the beautiful girl she hoped some day to have the pleasure +of patronizing. + +Mrs. Costello had regained nearly her usual health. One day, shortly +after the Dightons left, she asked Lucia to bring her desk, saying that +she must write to Mr. Wynter, and that it was time they should make some +different arrangement, since, as they had long ago agreed, Paris was too +expensive for them to stay there all the year. + +Lucia remembered what Maurice had said to her about her mother returning +to England, but the consciousness of what had really been in his mind at +the moment stopped her just as she was about to speak. She brought the +desk, and said only, + +"Have you thought of any place, mamma?" + +"I have thought of two or three, but none please me," Mrs. Costello +answered. "We want a cheap place--one within easy reach of England, and +one not too much visited by tourists. It is not very easy to find a +place with all the requisites." + +"No, indeed. But you are not able to travel yet." + +"Yes I am. Indeed, it is necessary we should go soon, if not +immediately." + +Lucia sighed. She would be sorry to leave Paris. Meantime her mother had +opened the desk, but before beginning to write she took out a small +packet of letters, and handed them to Lucia. "I will give these to you," +she said, "for you have the greatest concern with them, though they were +not meant for your eyes." + +Lucia looked at the packet and recognized Maurice's hand. + +"Ought I to read them, then?" she said. + +"Certainly. Nay, I desire that you will read them carefully. Yes, +Lucia," she went on in a softer tone, "I wish you to know all that has +been hidden from you. Take those notes and keep them. When you are an +old woman you may be glad to remember that they were ever written." + +Lucia could not answer. She carried the packet away to her own chair, +and sitting down, opened it and began to read. It was only Maurice's +notes, written to Mrs. Costello from England, and they were many of them +very hasty, impetuous, and not particularly well-expressed missives. But +if they had been eloquence itself, they could not have stirred the +reader's heart as they did. It was the simple bare fact of a great +love--so much greater than she could ever have deserved, and yet passed +by, disregarded, unperceived in her arrogant ignorance; this was what +she seemed to see in them, and it wrung her heart with vain repentance +and regret. And, as she bent over them there suddenly arose in her mind +a doubt--a question which seemed to have very little to do with those +letters, yet which they certainly helped to raise--had she ever loved +Percy? Lucia was romantic. Like other romantic girls, she would formerly +have said--indeed, she had said to herself many times--"I shall love him +all my life--even if he forgets me I shall still love him." And yet now +she was conscious--dimly, unwillingly conscious, that she thought very +little of him, and that even that little was not at all in the strain +she would have felt to be proper in a deserted heroine of fiction. She +was not the least likely to die of a broken heart for him; she was much +more inclined to die for grief and shame at what had befallen Maurice. +So that question, which was in itself a mortifying one, rose +rebelliously in her mind--had she ever loved Percy? or had she been +wasting her thoughts on a mere lay-figure, dressed up by her own fancy +in attributes not at all belonging to it? Poor child! had she known how +many women--and perhaps men also--do the very same, the idea might not +have seemed quite so horrible to her. + +Horrible or not, she put it aside and went back to the letters. In the +earlier ones there were many allusions which seemed almost to belong to +a former existence, so utterly had her life changed since they were +written. The bright days of last summer, before the first cloud came +over her fortunes, seemed to return almost too vividly to her memory; +she would have bargained away a year of her life to be able to regain +the simple happiness of that time. It could never be done; she had +suffered, and had done some good and much evil; the past was ended and +put away for ever; she could not, for all she might give, again set +herself + + "To the same key + Of the remembered harmony." + +She closed the last letter of the little pile and put them carefully +away. Already they seemed to her one of her most valuable possessions. + +Mrs. Costello had finished writing to her cousin. She was busy with +Murray and a map of France; and when Lucia came back she called her. + +"Come here, I have half decided." + +"Yes, mamma. Where is it?" + +"Of course, I cannot be sure. I must make some inquiries; but I think +this will do--Bourg-Cailloux." + +Lucia looked where her mother's finger pointed on the map. + +"Is it a seaport?" she asked. + +"Yes, with steamers sailing direct to England." + +"But in that case, will it not be in the way of tourists?" + +"I suspect not; I have looked what Murray says, and it is so little that +it is pretty evident it is not much visited by the people who follow his +guidance. Besides, I do not see what attraction the place can have +except just the sea. It is an old fortified town, with a market and +considerable maritime trade--sends supplies of various kinds to London, +and has handsome docks; from all which I conclude that business, and not +pleasure, is the thing which takes people there." + +"Could you bear a noisy, busy town?" + +"After this I do not think we need fear the noise of any provincial +town. In a very quiet place we should not have the direct communication +with England, which is an object with me." + +"But, mamma, what need----?" + +"Every need, for your sake as well as my own. We _must_ be where, in +case of emergency, you could quickly have help from England." + +Lucia trembled at her mother's words. She dared not disregard them after +what had lately happened, but she could not discuss this aspect of the +question. + +"I must find out about the journey," Mrs. Costello went on. "If it is +not a very fatiguing one I believe I shall decide at once. We shall both +be the better, in any case, for a little sea air." + +"I shall like it at all events. I have never seen the sea except during +our voyage." + +"No. I used to be very fond of it. I believe now, if I could get out to +sit on the beach I should grow much stronger." + +"Oh, mamma, you must. What is the name of the place? Here it +is--Bourg-Cailloux. When do you think we can go?" + +"Not before next week, certainly. Do not make up your mind to that +place, for perhaps it may not suit us yet to go there." + +Lucia knelt down, and put her arms softly round her mother's waist. + +"Dear mother," she said slowly, "I wish you would go back to England." + +Mrs. Costello started. "To England?" she said, "you know quite well that +it is impossible." + +"You would be glad to go, mamma." + +"Child, you do not know _how_ glad I should be. To die and be buried +among my own people!" + +"To go and live among them rather, mamma; Maurice put it into my head +that you might." + +She spoke the last sentence timidly; after they had both so avoided +Maurice's name, she half dreaded its effect on her mother. But Mrs. +Costello only shook her head sadly. + +"Maurice thought of a different return from any that would be possible +now. Possibly, if all had been as we wished--both he and I--I might +have gone over to a part of England so far from the place I left. Say no +more of it, dear," she added quickly, "let us make the best of what we +have, and try to forget what we have not." + +She bent down and kissed her daughter as she spoke. But still these last +few sentences had furnished a little fresh bitterness for Lucia's +thoughts. Her mother's exile might have ended but for her. + +Bourg-Cailloux was next day fully decided on for their new residence. +From the time of the decision Lucia began to be very busy in preparation +for their journey, and for leaving the place where she had been too +happy, and too miserable, not to have become attached to it. Claudine, +too, had to be left behind with some regret, but they hoped to see Paris +again the following year if all should be well. Early one morning they +started off once again, a somewhat forlorn pair of travellers, and at +three o'clock on a bright afternoon rattled over the rough pavements, on +their way to the Hotel des Bains at Bourg-Cailloux. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Summer came very early that year, and the narrow streets of +Bourg-Cailloux were full of the glare and heat of the season. The +pavements of white stones, always rough and painful to the feet, were +burning hot in the middle of the day, and outside the walls, especially +towards the sea, the light coloured, sandy roads were more scorching +still. The Hotel des Bains, just waking up after its winter repose, had +proved but a comfortless dwelling. After two or three days, therefore, +Mrs. Costello had left it, and she and Lucia were now settled in a +lodging in the city itself. Their windows looked out on the "Place," +where a brave sea-captain, the hero of Bourg-Cailloux, stood in effigy, +and still seemed to keep watch over the place he had once defended, and +where, twice a week, the market-women came in their long black cloaks +and dazzling caps, and brought heaps of fragrant flowers and early +fruit. In the very early morning, the shadow of a quaint old tower fell +transversely upon the pavement of the square, and reached almost to +their door; and in the evening Lucia grew fond of watching for the fire +which was nightly lighted on the same tower that it might be a guide to +sailors far out at sea. The town was quiet and dull--there was no +theatre, no concerts, at present even no balls--the only public +amusement of the population seemed to be listening in the still evenings +to the band which played in front of the guard-house in the Place. There +they came in throngs, and promenaded slowly over the sharp-edged stones, +with a keen and visible enjoyment of the fresh air, the music, and each +other's company, which was in itself a pleasant thing to see. + +The journey, the discomforts of the first few days, and the second +moving, had tried Mrs. Costello extremely. She spent most of her time on +the sofa now, and had as yet only been able once or twice to go down and +sit for a while on the sunny beach, where children were playing and +building sand castles, and where the sea breeze was sweet and reviving. + +There was a small colony of English people settled in the town, mostly +people with small incomes and many children, or widows of poor +gentlemen; but there was also a large floating population of English +sailors, and for their benefit an English consul and chaplain, who +supplied a temporal and spiritual leader to the community. But the +mother and daughter kept much apart from their country people, who were +inclined to be sociable and friendly towards them. Mrs. Costello's +illness, and Lucia's preoccupation, made them receive with indifference +the visits of those who, after seeing them at the little English church, +and by the sea, thought it "only neighbourly to call." + +Their home arrangements were different to those they had made in Paris. +Here they were really lodgers, and their landlady, Madame Everaert, +waited on them. She was a fat, good natured, half Dutch widow, who took +from the first a lively interest in the invalid mother, and in the +daughter who would have been so handsome if she had been stouter and +more rosy; and in a very little while she found that her new lodgers +had one quality, which above all others gave them a claim on her good +will, they were excellent listeners. Almost every evening in the +twilight she would come herself to their sitting-room, with the lamp, or +with some other errand for an excuse, and would stay chattering in her +droll Flemish French for at least half an hour. This came to be one of +the features of the day. Another was a daily walk, which Lucia had most +frequently to take alone, but which always gave her either from the +shore, or from the ramparts, a long sorrowful look over the sea towards +England--towards Canada perhaps--or instead of either, to some far-away +fairy country where there were no mistakes and no misunderstandings. + +Between these two--between morning and evening--time was almost a blank. +Lucia had completely given up her habits of study. She did not even read +novels, except aloud; and when she was not in some way occupied in +caring for her mother, she sat hour after hour by the window, with a +piece of crochet, which seemed a second Penelope's web, for it never was +visibly larger one day than it had been the day before. Mrs. Costello +gradually grew anxious as she perceived how dull and inanimate her +daughter remained. She would almost have been glad of an excuse for +giving her a gentle scolding, but Lucia's entire submission and +sweetness of temper made it impossible. There seemed nothing to be done, +but to try to force her into cheerful occupation, and to hope that time +and her own good sense would do the rest. Hitherto they had had no +piano; they got one, and for a day or two Lucia made a languid pretence +of practising. But one day she was turning over her music, among which +were a number of quaint old English songs and madrigals, which she and +Maurice had jointly owned long ago at Cacouna, when she came upon one +the words of which she had been used to laugh at, much to the annoyance +of her fellow-singers. She had a half remembrance of them, and turned +the pages to look if they were really so absurd. The music she knew +well, and how the voices blended in the quaint pathetic harmony. + + "Out alas! my faith is ever true, + Yet will she never rue, + Nor grant me any grace. + I sit and sigh, I weep, I faint, I die, + While she alone refuseth sympathy." + +She shut the music up, and would have said, if anybody had asked her, +that she had no patience with such foolish laments, even in poetry; but, +nevertheless, the verse stayed in her memory, haunted her fancy +perpetually, and seemed like a living voice in her ears-- + + "Out alas! my faith is ever true." + +She cared no more for singing, for every song she liked was associated +with Maurice, and each one seemed now to have the same burden; and when +she played, it was no longer gay airs, or even the wonderful 'Morceaux +de Salon,' of incredible noise and difficulty, which had been required +of her as musical exhibitions, but always some melancholy andante or +reverie which seemed to come to her fingers without choice or intention. + +One day when she had gone for her solitary walk, and Mrs. Costello all +alone was lying on the sofa, trying to read, but really considering with +some uneasiness the condition of their affairs, Madame Everaert knocked +at the door. + +She brought with her a fresh bunch of flowers just bought in the market, +but she was as usual overflowing with talk. + +"It is extremely hot," she said, fanning herself with her pocket +handkerchief, "and I met mademoiselle going out. It is excessively hot." + +Mrs. Costello looked uneasy. + +"Do you think it is too hot to be out?" she asked. + +"No. Perhaps not. Certainly, mademoiselle has gone to the ramparts, and +the walk there is not nearly so hot and fatiguing as down to the beach. +Mademoiselle is very fond of the sea." + +"Yes, she enjoys it greatly. It is new to her." + +"One day, not long ago, I was coming along the top of the +ramparts,--madame has not been there?" + +"No." + +"There is a broad space on the top, and it is covered with soft green +turf quite pleasant to sit down upon. Very few people pass, and you can +see a long way out to sea. Well, one day I came along there, because +upon the grass it was pleasanter walking than on the stones in the +street, and I saw Mademoiselle Lucia who was sitting quite quiet, +looking out far away. I came very near, but she never saw me. I thought +I would speak to her just to say how beautiful the day was, and the air +so sweet, when I saw just in time madame, that she was crying. Great +big tears were falling down on her hands, and she never seemed to feel +them even. Mon Dieu, madame! I could hardly keep from crying myself, she +looked so sad; but I went by softly, and she never saw me. Mademoiselle +regrets England very much." + +"She has never been in England. She was born in Canada, and that, you +know, is very far away." + +"In Canada! Is it possible? Does madame come from Canada?" + +"Yes." + +"And it is in Canada our good father Paul has suffered so much! Oh, the +terrible country!" + +"Why should it be terrible? I have seen Father Paul, and he does not +look as if he had suffered much." + +"Not now, Dieu merci. But long ago. Madame, he went to convert the +savages--the Indians." + +Mrs. Costello started. Father Paul was a Jesuit priest--an old venerable +man--old enough, as it flashed into her mind, to have been one of the +Moose Island missionaries. Yet such an idea was improbable--there had no +doubt been many other Jesuit missions besides the one where Christian +had been trained. + +"Do you know where it was that he went?" she asked, after a moment's +pause. + +"It was in Canada," Madame Everaert repeated, "and he lived among the +savages; if madame is from Canada, she would know where the savages +live." + +"There are very few savages now," Mrs. Costello answered with a smile. +"I know where there used to be some--possibly that was the very place." + +"No doubt. I shall tell the good father that madame knows it." + +"Stay. Don't be quite sure that it is the place. Canada is a very large +country." + +"Still it is so singular that madame should come from there. Father Paul +will be delighted." + +Mrs. Costello thought a minute. She was greatly tempted to wish to see +this priest who might have known her husband. She need not betray +herself to him. For the rest, she had noticed him often, and thought +what a good, pleasant face he had--a little too round and rosy perhaps, +but very honest and not vulgar. He might be an agreeable visitor, even +if he had no other claim on her. + +"Do you think," she said, "that he would mind coming to see me? I should +be very glad to receive him." + +"I am sure he would be charmed. He likes so much to talk of Canada." + +"Will you say to him then, please, that I have lived there many years +and should be very pleased to have a chat with him about it. I might be +able to give him news." + +Madame Everaert was delighted. She went away quite satisfied to find +Father Paul at the very earliest opportunity, and to deliver to him with +_empressement_ Mrs. Costello's invitation. + +Lucia, meanwhile, took her usual walk. She went quickly along the stony +streets and climbed up the grassy side of the rampart. It was all still +and solitary, and she sat down where there lay before her a wide stretch +of perfectly level country, only broken by the lines of the old +fortifications, and bordered by the sea. In the clear morning sunshine, +she could distinguish the white foam where the waves broke against the +wooden pier, and out on the blue waters there were white shining specks +of sails. Ships coming and going, and on the beach moving groups of +people--everywhere something that had life and motion and looked on to a +future, an object beyond this present moment--everywhere but here with +her. + +"Oh," she said to herself, "how wearisome life is! What good to myself +or to anybody else is this existence of mine? Am I never either to be +good or happy again? Happy, I suppose that does not so much matter--but +good? If people are wrong once, can they never get right again? I used +to think I should like to be a Sister of Mercy--and now that is all that +is left for me, I do not feel any inclination for it. I don't think I +have a vocation even for that." + +And at this point she fell into a lower depth of melancholy--one of +those sad moods which, at eighteen, have even a kind of charm in their +exaggeration. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +A day or two later there came, forwarded from Paris, an English letter +for Mrs. Costello. It arrived in the evening, at a time when they had no +expectation of receiving anything, and Madame Everaert brought it up, +and delivered it into Mrs. Costello's own hand, so that Lucia was not +near enough to see from whom it came. The general appearance of the +letter made her think it was English, and she knew that Mr. Wynter had +their present address and would not write to Paris. So she felt a +half-joyful, half-frightened suspicion that it must be from Maurice, and +her idea was confirmed by her mother's proceedings. For Mrs. Costello +having looked at the address, put the letter quietly in her pocket, and +went on talking about Father Paul, from whom they were expecting a +visit. + +Lucia could hardly restrain herself. It was clear that Mrs. Costello did +not mean to open the letter before her, or to tell her whence it came; +but her anxiety to know was only increased by this certainty. She had +almost made up her mind to ask plainly whether it was from Maurice, when +the door opened and the old priest came in. + +He was a fine-looking, white-haired man of more than seventy, to whom +the long black robe seemed exactly the most suitable dress possible, and +he had a good manner too, which was neither that of a mere priest, nor +of a mere gentleman, but belonged to both. The first few minutes of talk +made Mrs. Costello sure that she did not repent having invited his +acquaintance; a fact which had been in some little doubt before. + +She had said to him, "Madame Everaert told me you knew Canada, and, as +we are Canadians, I could not resist the wish to see one who might still +feel an interest in our country," and this turned the conversation +immediately to what she desired to hear. + +He answered her with a smile, "Probably my knowledge of Canada is very +different from yours; mine is almost entirely confined to the wilder +and less settled parts--to the Indian lands, in fact." + +"In Upper Canada?" + +"Yes. And then it is many years since I returned." + +"I have lived for twenty years in Upper Canada; and of some of the +Indians, the Ojibways of Moose Island, I have heard a great deal; +perhaps you know them?" + +The priest's eye brightened, but next moment he sighed. + +"The very place!" he said. "Unhappy people! But I am forgetting that +you, madame, are not likely to share my feelings on the subject." + +"I do not know," Mrs. Costello answered, "that we should be wholly +disagreed. I have heard, I may almost say I know myself, much of your +mission there." + +"Is it possible? Can any good remain still?" + +"One of your old pupils died lately, and in his last hours he remembered +nothing so well as your teaching." + +Her voice shook; this sudden mention of her husband, voluntary as it +was, agitated her strongly. Father Paul saw it and wondered, but +appeared to see nothing. + +"Poor boys! You console me, madame, for many sad thoughts. I was a young +man then, and, as you see, I am now a very old one, but I have known few +more sorrowful days than the one when I left Moose Island." + +"Yet it must have been a hard and wearisome life?" + +"Hard?--Yes--but not wearisome. We were ready to bear the hardness as +long as we hoped to see the fruit of our labours. I thought there had +been no fruit, or very little; but you prove to me that I was too +faithless." + +Mrs. Costello remained a moment silent. She was much inclined to trust +her guest with that part of her story which referred to Christian--no +doubt he was in the habit of keeping stranger secrets than hers. + +While she hesitated he spoke again. + +"But the whole face of the country must have changed since I knew it. +Did you live in that neighbourhood?" + +"For several years--all the first years of my married life, I lived on +Moose Island itself, and my daughter--come to me a moment, Lucia,--was +born there." + +She took Lucia's hand and drew her forward. The remaining daylight fell +full upon her dark hair and showed the striking outlines of her face and +graceful head. + +Father Paul looked in amazement--looked from the daughter to the mother, +and the mother to the daughter, not knowing what to think or say. + +Mrs. Costello relieved his embarrassment. + +"My marriage was a strange one," she said. "The old pupil of whom I +spoke to you just now, was my husband." + +"Your husband, madame? Do I understand you? Mademoiselle's father then +was--" + +"An Indian." + +He remained dumb with astonishment, not willing to give vent to the +exclamations of surprise and almost sorrow which he felt might be +offensive to his hostess, while she told him in the fewest possible +words of her marriage to Christian and separation from him. + +There was one thought in the old priest's mind, which had never, at +anytime, occurred to Mrs. Costello--Christian had been destined for the +Church. He had taken no vows, certainly; but for years he had been +trained with that object, and at one time his vocation had seemed +remarkably clear and strong--his marriage, at all, therefore, seemed to +add enormity to his other guilt. + +And yet there was a sort of lurking tenderness for the boy who had been +the favourite pupil of the mission--who had seemed to have such natural +aptitude for good of all sorts, until suddenly the mask dropped off, and +the good turned to evil. It might be that his misdoings were but the +result of a temporary possession of the evil one himself, and that at +last all might have been well. + +Mrs. Costello spoke more fully as she saw how deep was the listener's +interest in her story; yet, when she came near the end, she almost +shrank from the task. The sacred tenderness which belongs to the dead, +had fallen like a veil over all her last memories of her husband; and +now she wanted to share them with this good old man, whose teaching had +made them what they were. + +More than once she had to stop, to wait till her voice was less +unsteady, but she went on to the very end--even to that strange burial +in the waters. When all was told, there was a silence in the room; +Father Paul had wet eyes, unseen in the dusk, and he did not care to +speak; Lucia, whose tears were very ready of late; was crying quietly, +with her head lying against the end of the sofa, while Mrs. Costello, +leaning back on her cushions, waited quietly till the painful throbbing +of her heart should subside. + +At last Lucia rose and stole out of the room. She went to her own, and +lay down on her bed still crying, though she could hardly tell why. Her +trouble about the letter still haunted and worried her, and her spirit +was so broken that she was like a sick child, neither able nor anxious +to command herself. + +Meanwhile the lamp had been brought into the sitting-room, and the two +elder people had recommenced their conversation. It was of a less +agitating kind now, but the subject was not very different, and both +were deeply interested, so that time passed on quickly, and the evening +was gone before they were aware. When Father Paul rose to go, he said, +"Madam, I thank you for all you have told me. Your secret is safe with +me; but I beg your permission to share the rest of your intelligence +with one of my brothers--the only survivor except myself of that +mission. If you will permit me, I shall visit you again--I should like +much to make friends with mademoiselle, your daughter. She recalls to +me strongly the features of my once greatly loved pupil." + +With this little speech he departed, and left Mrs. Costello to wonder +over this last page in her husband's history. Only a year ago how little +would she have believed it possible that a man respectable, nay, +venerable, as this old priest, would have thought kindly of Lucia for +her father's sake! + +After a little while she got up and went to look for her daughter. She +found her sitting at a window, looking forlornly out at the lights and +movements in the place, and not very ready to meet the lamplight when +she came back into the sitting-room. Still, however, she heard nothing +of the letter, nor even when she bade her mother good night and lingered +a little at the very last, hoping for one word, even though it might be +a reproach, to tell her that it was from Maurice. + +She had to go to her room disconsolate. She heard Mrs. Costello go to +hers, and close the door. + +'Now,' she thought, 'it will be opened. It cannot be from _him_, or +mamma could not have waited so long. But I don't know; she has such +self-command! I used to fancy I could be patient at great need--and I am +not one bit.' + +However, as waiting and listening for every sound brought her no nearer +to the obtaining of her wishes, she undressed and lay down, and began to +try to imagine what the letter could be. Gradually, from thinking, she +fell into dreaming, and dropped into a doze. + +But before she was sound asleep, the door opened, and Mrs. Costello +shading her candle with her hand, came into the room. Lucia had been so +excited that the smallest movement was sufficient to awake her. She +started up and said, "What is it mamma?" in a frightened voice. + +"It is late," Mrs. Costello said. "Quite time you were asleep, but I am +glad you are not. Lie down. I shall sit here for a few minutes and tell +you what I want to say." + +Lucia obeyed. She saw that her mother had a paper in her hand--no doubt +the letter. Now she should hear. + +"I had a letter to-night," her mother went on. "I dare say you wondered +I did not open it at once. The truth was, I saw that it was in Mr. +Leigh's writing, and I had reason to feel a little anxious as to what he +might say." + +"Yes, mamma." + +Lucia could say no more; but she waited eagerly for the news that must +be coming--news of Maurice. + +"I shall give you the letter to read. Bring it back to me in the +morning; but before you do so, think well what you will do. I would +never ask you to be untrue to yourself in such a matter; but I entreat +you to see that you do know your own mind, and to use your power of +saying yes or no, if you should ever have it, not like a foolish girl, +but like a woman, who must abide all her life by the consequences of her +decision." + +Mrs. Costello kissed her daughter's forehead, lighted the candle which +stood on a small table, and leaving the letter beside it, went softly +away. + +The moment the door closed, Lucia eagerly stretched out her arm and took +the letter. Her hands trembled; the light seemed dim; and Mr. Leigh's +cramped old-fashioned handwriting was more illegible than ever; but she +read eagerly, devouring the words. + +"My dear Mrs. Costello,--You may think, perhaps, that I ought not to +interfere in a matter in which I have not been consulted; but you know +that to us, who have in all the world nothing to care for but one only +child, that child's affairs are apt to be much the same as our own. + +"Maurice told me, just before we left Canada, what I might have been +certain of long before if I had not been a stupid old man--that it was +the hope of his life to marry your Lucia. He went to Paris, certainly, +with the intention of asking her to marry him; and he came back quite +unexpectedly, and looking ten years older--so changed, not only in +looks, but in all his ways of speaking and acting, that it was clear to +me some great misfortune had happened. Still he said very little to me, +and it appears incredible that Lucia can have refused him. Perhaps that +seems an arrogant speech for his father to make--but you will understand +that I mean if she knew how constantly faithful he has been to her ever +since they were both children;--and if she has done so in some momentary +displeasure with him (for you know they used to have little quarrels +sometimes), or if they have parted in anger, I beg of you, dear Mrs. +Costello, for the sake of his mother, to try to put things right between +them. + +"I must tell you plainly that I am writing without my son's knowledge. I +would very much rather he should never know I have written; but I have +been urged to do it by some things that have happened lately. + +"Some time ago Maurice, speaking to me of Mr. Beresford's will, told me +that there had been a little difficulty in tracing one of the persons +named as legatees. This was a cousin of Mr. Beresford's, with whom he +seems to have had very little acquaintance, and no recent intercourse +whatever; although, except Lady Dighton, she was the nearest relative he +had. The lawyers discovered, while Maurice was in Canada, that this lady +herself was dead. Her marriage had been unfortunate, and she had a +spendthrift son, to whom, as his mother's heir, the money left by Mr. +Beresford passed; but it appeared that she had also a daughter, who was +in unhappy circumstances, being dependent on some relation of her +father. Maurice, very naturally and properly, thought that, as head of +the family, it was his duty to arrange something for this lady's +comfort; and accordingly, being in London, where she lives, he called on +her. She has since then been in this neighbourhood, and I have seen her +several times. She is a young lady of agreeable appearance and manners, +and seems qualified to become popular, if she were in a position to do +so. I should not have thought of this, however, if it had not been for a +few words Maurice said to me one day. I asked him some question about +marrying, hoping to hear some allusion to Lucia, but he said very +gravely that he should certainly marry some time; he had promised his +grandfather to do so. Then he said suddenly, 'What would you think of +Emma Landor for a daughter-in-law?' 'Emma Landor?' I answered; 'what has +put her into your head?' 'Just this, sir,' he said; 'if I am to marry as +a duty, I had better find somebody to whom I shall do some good, and not +all evil, by marrying them. Emma would enjoy being mistress here; she +would do it well, too; and having Hunsdon, she would not miss anything +else that might be wanting.' With that he went out of the room; and +after awhile I persuaded myself that he meant nothing serious by what he +had said. However, Lady Dighton has spoken to me of the same thing +since. Both she and I are convinced now that Maurice thinks--you may be, +better then we are, able to understand why--that he has lost Lucia, and +that, therefore, a marriage of convenience is all that he can hope for. +Perhaps I am mistaken, or, at all events, too soon alarmed; but the +mere idea of his proposing to this young lady throws me into a panic. If +she should accept him (and Lady Dighton thinks she probably would), it +would be a life-long misery. I am old-fashioned enough to think it would +be a sin. He will not do it yet; perhaps he may see you again before he +does. Do, I entreat of you, use the great influence you have always had +with him to set things right. I have written a very long letter, because +I could not ask your help without explaining; but I trust to your +kindness to sympathize with my anxiety. Kindest regards to Lucia." + +Lucia put down the paper. The whole letter, slowly and painfully +deciphered, seemed to make no impression on her brain. She lay still, +with a sort of stunned feeling, till the sense of what she had read came +to her fully. + +"Oh, Maurice!" she cried under her breath, "I want you! Come back to me! +She shall never have you! You belong to me!" She covered her face with +her hands, ashamed of even hearing her own words; then she got up and +went across to her window, and looked out at the light burning on the +tower--the light which shone far across the sea towards England. But +presently she came back, and reached her little desk--Maurice's gift +long ago--and knelt down on the floor, and wrote, kneeling,-- + + + + "Dear Maurice, you promised that if ever I wanted you, you would + come. I want you now more than ever I did in my life. Please, please + come. + "LUCIA." + + + +Then she leaned her head down till it almost touched the paper, and +stayed so for a few minutes before she got up from her knees and +extinguished her candle. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +In the morning, when Lucia woke, her note to Maurice lay on the open +desk, where she had left it, and was the first thing to remind her of +what she had heard and done. She went and took it up to destroy it, but +laid it down again irresolutely. + +"I do want him," she said to herself. "Without any nonsense, I ought to +see him again before he does anything. I ought to tell him I am sorry +for being so cross and ungrateful; and if he were married, or even +engaged, I could not do it; it would be like confessing to a stranger." + +There was something very like a sob, making her throat swell as she +considered. He would perhaps see them again, Mr. Leigh said. Ought she +to trust to that chance? But then her courage might fail if he came +over just like any ordinary visitor; and her young cousins from Chester +were coming; and if they should be there, it would be another hindrance. +"And, oh! I must see him again," she said, "and find out whether we are +not to be brother and sister any more." + +She said "brother and sister" still, as she had done long ago; but she +knew very well in her heart now, that _that_ had never been the +relationship Maurice desired. And so she tore her note into little bits, +and remained helpless, but rebelling against her helplessness. In this +humour she went to her mother's room. + +Mrs. Costello was not yet up. Lucia knelt down by the bedside, and laid +Mr. Leigh's letter beside her. + +"Mamma, I am very sorry," she said; "I think Mr. Leigh must have been +very unhappy before he would write to you so." + +"I agree with you. He is not a man to take fright without cause, +either." + +"Why do you say, 'to take fright?'" + +"Why do I say so? Are you such a child still, that you cannot understand +a man like Maurice, always so tender towards women--Quixotically so, +indeed--making himself believe that he is doing quite right in marrying +a poor girl in Miss Landor's position, when, in fact, he is doing a +great wrong? It is a double wrong to her and to himself; and one for +which he would be certain to suffer, whether she did or not. And, Lucia +I must say it, whatever evil may come of it, now or in the future, is +our fault." + +"Oh, mamma! mamma, don't say 'our'--say 'your'--if it is mine--for +certainly it is not yours." + +"I will say your fault, then; I believe you feel it so." + +"But, mamma, really and truly, is it anybody's fault? Don't people often +love those who can't care for them in return?" + +"Really and truly, quite honestly and frankly, Lucia, was that the case +with you?" + +Lucia's eyes fell. She could not say yes. + +"I will tell you," Mrs. Costello went on, "what I believe to be the +truth, and you can set me right if I am wrong. You knew that Maurice had +always been fond of you--devoted to you, in a way that had come by use +to seem natural; and it had never entered your mind to think either how +much of your regard he deserved, or how much he really had. I will not +say anything about Percy; but I do believe," and she spoke very +deliberately, laying her hand on Lucia's, "that since Maurice went away, +you have been finding out that you had made a mistake, and that your +heart had not been wrong nearly so much as your imagination." + +Lucia was still silent. If she had spoken at all, it must have been to +confess that her mother was right, and that was not easy to do. Whatever +suspicions she might have in her own heart, it was a mortifying thing to +be told plainly that her love for Percy was a mistake--a mere +counterfeit--instead of the enduring devotion which it ought to have +been. But she was very much humbled now, and patiently waited for what +her mother might say next. + +"Well!" Mrs. Costello began again, "it is no use now to go on talking of +the past. The question is rather whether anything can be done for the +future. What do you say?" + +"What can I say, mamma? What can I do?" + +"I don't know. Maurice used to tell me of his plans, but he is not +likely to do that now. I would write and ask him to come over, but it is +more than doubtful whether he would come." + +"He promised that if ever I wanted him he would come," Lucia said, +hesitating. + +"If you were in need of him I am sure he would, but it would be a kind +of impertinence to send for him on that plea when it was not really for +that." + +"But it _is_. Mamma, don't be angry with me again! Don't be disgusted +with me; but I want, so badly, to see him and tell him I behaved +wrongly. I was so cross, so ungrateful, so _horrid_, mamma, that it was +enough to make him think all girls bad. I should _like_ to tell him how +sorry I am; I feel as if I should never be happy till I did." + +When, after this outbreak, Lucia's face went down upon her hands, Mrs. +Costello could not resist a little self-gratulatory smile. 'All may come +right yet,' she thought to herself, 'if that wilful boy will only come +over.' + +"I think you are right," she said aloud. "Possibly he may come over, and +then you will have an opportunity of speaking to him, perhaps." + +"Yes," Lucia said, very slowly, thinking of her note, and of the comfort +it would have been if she _could_ but have sent it. "Oh, mamma, if we +were but in England!" + +"Useless wishes, dear. Give me your advice about writing to Mr. Leigh." + +"You will write, will you not?" + +"I suppose I must. Yet it is a difficult letter for me to answer." + +"Could not you just say 'I will do what I can?'" + +"Which is absolutely nothing--unless Maurice should really pay us a +visit here, a thing not likely at present." + +So the conversation ended without any satisfaction to Lucia. Nay, all +her previous days had been happy compared to this one. She was devoured +now, by a restless, jealous curiosity about that Miss Landor whom Mr. +Leigh feared--she constantly found her thoughts reverting to this +subject, however she might try to occupy them with others, and the +tumult of her mind reacted upon her nerves. She could scarcely bear to +sit still. It rained all afternoon and evening, and she could not go +out, so that in the usual course of events she would have read aloud to +her mother part of the time, and for the other part sat by the window +with her crochet in her hand, but to-day she wandered about perpetually. +She even opened the piano and began to sing her merriest old songs, but +that soon ceased. She found the novel they were reading insufferably +stupid, and took up a volume of Shakespeare for refreshment, but it +opened naturally to the 'Merchant of Venice,' and, to the page where +Portia says:-- + + "Though for myself alone, + I would not be ambitious in my wish, + To wish myself much better, yet for you + I would be trebled twenty times myself; + A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich; + That only to stand high on your account, + I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, + Exceed account." + +She shut the book--yes, this was a true woman, who for true love thought +herself and all she possessed too little to give in return; but for the +little, foolish, blind souls that could not see till too late, what +_was_ true love, she was no fit company. + +The evening passed on wearily, and Mrs. Costello, who had her own share +of disquiet also, though it was mixed with a little amusement at the +impetuosity of these young people, who were so dear to her and so +troublesome, did very little in the way of consolation. + +Next day, the weather had cleared again, and was very lovely. In the +afternoon, Lucia persuaded Mrs. Costello to go with her to the beach. +There they got chairs, and sat for a long while enjoying the gay, and +often comical, scene round them. Numbers of people were bathing, and +beside the orthodox bathers, there was a party of little boys wading +about with bare legs, and playing all sorts of pranks in the water. + +A little way to the left of where they sat, there was a curious kind of +wooden pier, which ran far away out into the sea and terminated in a +small square wooden building. The whole thing was raised on piles about +five or six feet above the present level of the water which flowed +underneath it. The pier itself, in fact, was only a narrow bridge or +footpath railed partly on one side only, partly on both, and with an +oddly unsafe and yet tempting look about it. Lucia had been attracted by +it before, and she drew her mother's attention to it now-- + +"Look, mamma," she said, "does not it seem as if one could almost cross +the Channel on it, it goes so far out. See that woman, now--I have +watched since she started from this end, and now you can scarcely +distinguish her figure." + +"There is a priest coming along it--is it not Father Paul?" + +"I do believe it is. I wish he would come and talk to you for a little +while, and then I would go." + +"You need not stay for that, dear. I shall sit here alone quite +comfortably, if you wish to go out there." + +"I should like very much to go. I want to see what the sea looks like +away from the beach. There is no harm, is there?" + +"None whatever. Go, and I will watch you." + +Lucia rose to go. + +"It _is_ Father Paul," she said, "and he is coming this way." + +She lingered a minute, and the priest, who had recognized them, came up. + +Mrs. Costello told him of Lucia's wish to go out on the pier, and he +assured her she would enjoy it. + +"The air seems even fresher there than here," he said; and she went off, +and left him and her mother together. + +For a few minutes they talked about the weather, the sea, and the people +about them, as two slight acquaintances would naturally do; but then, +when there had been a momentary pause, Father Paul startled Mrs. +Costello, by saying, + +"Last night, madam, you told me of persons I had not heard of for +years--this morning, strangely enough, I have met with a person of whom +you probably know something--or knew something formerly." + +"I?" she answered. "Impossible! I know no one in France." + +"This is not a Frenchman. He is named Bailey, an American, I believe." + +"Bailey?" Mrs. Costello repeated, terrified. "Surely he is not here?" + +"There is a man of that name here--a miserable ruined gambler, who says +that he knows Moose Island, and once travelled in Europe with a party of +Indians." + +"And what is he doing now?" + +"Nothing. He is the most wretched, squalid object you can imagine. He +came to me this morning to ask for the loan of a few francs. He had not +even the honesty to beg without some pretence of an intention to pay." + +"Is he so low then as to need to beg?" + +"Madame, he is a gambler, I repeat it. If he had a hundred francs +to-night, he would most likely be penniless to-morrow morning." + +"And he claimed charity from you because of your connection with +Canada?" + +"Exactly. Having no other plea. I was right, madame: you know this man?" + +"He was my bitterest enemy!" she answered, half rising in her vehemence. +"But for him I might have had a happy life." + +Father Paul looked shocked. + +"Forgive me," he said, in a troubled voice, "I am grieved to have spoken +of him." + +"On the contrary, I am thankful you did so. If I had met him by chance +in the street, I believe he could not change so much that I should not +know him, and he--" + +She stopped, then asked abruptly, + +"You did not mention me?" + +"Most assuredly not." + +"Yet he might recognise me. What shall I do?" + +She was speaking to herself, and not to her companion now, and she +looked impatiently towards the pier where Lucia was slowly coming back. + +Presently she recovered herself a little, and asked a few more +questions about Bailey. She gathered from the answers that he had been +some time at Bourg-Cailloux, getting gradually more poverty-stricken and +utterly disreputable. That he was now wandering about without a home, or +money even for gambling. She knew enough of the man to be certain that +under such circumstances he would snatch at any means of obtaining +money, and what means easier, if he only knew it, than to threaten and +persecute her. And at any moment he might discover her--her very +acquaintance with Father Paul might betray her to him. She cast a +terrified look over all the groups of people on the beach, half +expecting to see the well-remembered features of Bailey among them; but +he was not there. Close by her, however, stood Lucia, and at a little +distance the carriage, which had been ordered to fetch them, was just +drawing up. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Mrs. Costello said nothing to Lucia on their way home about Bailey. She +sat in her corner of the carriage, leaning back and thinking +despairingly what to do. Her spirits had so far given way with her +failing health that she no longer felt the courage necessary to face +annoyance. And it was plainly to be feared that in case this man +discovered her, he would have no scruples, being so needy and degraded, +about using every means in his power to extort money from her. +Undoubtedly he had such means--he had but to tell her story, as he +_could_ tell it, and not only her own life, but Lucia's, would be made +wretched; the separation from Maurice, which she was beginning to hope +might be only temporary, would become irrevocable--and, what seemed to +her still more terrible, there would be perpetual demands from her +enemy, and the misery of perpetual contact with him. To buy off such a +man, at once and finally, was, she knew, utterly beyond her power--what +then could she do? + +When they were at home, and the door of their sitting-room safely +closed, she turned anxiously to Lucia, + +"Bailey is here," she said. + +"Bailey?" Lucia repeated--she had forgotten the name. + +"The man who was present at my marriage--the American." + +"Mamma! How do you know?" + +"Father Paul told me just now." + +"How did he know?" + +"The wretched man had gone to him begging, and he mentioned him to me by +chance, thinking I might know something about him." + +"But surely he would not remember you?" + +"I think he would. If by any accident he met you and me together, I am +certain he would." + +"Ah! I am so like my father." + +"Lucia, I _dare_ not meet him. I believe the very sight of him would +kill me." + +"Let us go away, mamma. He knows nothing about us yet. We might start +to-morrow." + +"Where should we go? Even at our own door we might meet him, at the +railway station--anywhere. No, it is only inside these walls we are +safe, and scarcely here." + +Mrs. Costello was literally trembling, the panic which had seized her +was so great; Lucia, not fully understanding yet, could not help being +infected by her terror. + +"But, mamma, we cannot shut ourselves up in these rooms. That, with the +constant fear added to it, would soon make you ill again." + +"What can we do?" Mrs. Costello repeated helplessly. "If, indeed, we +could start to-night, and go south, or go out of France altogether. But +I have not even money in the house for our journey." + +"And if you had, you have not strength for it. Would not it be well to +consult Mr. Wynter? If we had any friend here who would make the +arrangement for us, I don't see why we should not be able to go away +without any fear of meeting this man." + +"No; that would not do. To consult George would just be opening up again +all that was most painful--it would be almost as bad as meeting Bailey +himself." + +"And we could not be stopped even if we did meet Bailey. Let me go +alone, mamma, and do what is to be done--it is not much. If I meet him I +shall not know it, and seeing me alone, the likeness cannot be so strong +as to make him recognize me all at once." + +"But he might see us together when we start from here; and he might +trace us. He would know at once that he could get money from me, and for +money he would do anything." + +She leaned back, and was silent a minute. + +"We must keep closely shut up for a little while, till I can decide what +to do. I wish Maurice would come." + +Lucia looked up eagerly. It was her own thought, though she had not +dared to say it. Maurice could always find the way out of a difficulty. + +"Mamma," she said anxiously, but with some hesitation, "I think this is +need--the kind of need Maurice meant." + +"Need, truly. But I do not know--" + +"He would be glad to help you. And he knows all about us." + +"Yes, I should not have to make long explanations to him." + +Just then there was a knock at the door. Both started violently. Absurd +as it was, they both expected to see Bailey himself enter. Instead, they +saw Madame Everaert, her round face flushed with walking and her hands +full of flowers. + +"For mademoiselle," she said, laying them down on the table, and nodding +and smiling good humouredly. "I have been to Rosendahl to see my +goddaughter there, and she has a magnificent garden, so I brought a few +flowers for mademoiselle." + +Lucia thanked her, and admired the flowers, and she went away without +suspecting the fright her visit had caused. + +"Get your desk, Lucia," Mrs. Costello said, gasping for breath, and +almost exhausted by the terrible beating of her heart, "and write a note +for me." + +The desk was brought and opened. + +"Is it to Maurice?" Lucia asked. + +"Yes. Say that we are in great need of a friend." + +Lucia began. She found it much more difficult than she had done the +other night, when she wrote those few impetuous lines which had been +afterwards torn up. + + + + "Dear Maurice," she said, "mamma tells me to write to you, and say + that something has happened which has frightened her very much, and + that we are in great need of a friend. Will you keep your promise, + and come to us?" + + + +This was what she showed to her mother. When Mrs. Costello had approved +of it, she wrote a few words more. + + + + "I want to ask you to forgive me. I don't deserve it, but I am so + unhappy. + + "Yours affectionately, + "LUCIA." + + + +She hesitated a little how to sign herself, but finally wrote just what +she had been accustomed to put to all her little notes written to +Maurice during his absences from Cacouna in the old days. + +When the letter had been sealed and sent off by Madame Everaert's +servant to the post-office, they began to feel that all they could do +for the present was done. Mrs. Costello lay still on her sofa, without +having strength or energy to talk, and Lucia took her never-finished +crochet, and sat in her old place by the window. + +But very soon it grew too dark to work. The Place was lighted, and alive +with people passing to and fro. The windows of the guard house opposite +were brilliant, and from those of a cafe on the same side as Madame +Everaert's there shone out, half across the square, a broad line of +light. In this way, at two places, the figures of those who moved about +the pavement on each side of the Place, were very plainly visible; even +the faces of some could be distinguished. Lucia watched these people +to-night with a new interest. Every time the strong glare fell upon a +shabby slouching figure, or on a poorly dressed man who wanted the air +of being a Frenchman, she thought, "Is that Bailey?" When the lamp came +in, Mrs. Costello had fallen asleep, so Lucia turned it down low, and +still sat at the window. The light on the tower shone out clear and +bright--above it the stars looked pale, but the sky was perfectly +serene. Maurice, if he came soon, had every prospect of a fair passage. +"And he will come," she thought to herself, "even if he is really too +much vexed with me to forgive me, he will come for mamma's sake." + +All next day they both kept indoors. Lucia tried to persuade her mother +to drive out into the country, but even for this Mrs. Costello had not +courage. At the same time she seemed to be losing all sense of security +in the house. She fancied she had not sufficiently impressed on Father +Paul the importance of not betraying her in any way to Bailey. She +wished to write and remind him of this, but she dared not lest her note +should fall into wrong hands. Then she thought of asking him to visit +her, but hesitated also about that till it was too late. In short, was +in a perfectly unreasonable and incapable condition--fear had taken such +hold of her in her weak state of health that Lucia began to think it +would end in nervous fever. With her the dread of Bailey began to be +quite lost in apprehension for her mother, and her own affairs had to +be put altogether on one side to make room for these new anxieties. + +In the afternoon of that day Mrs. Costello suddenly roused herself from +a fit of thought. + +"We must go somewhere," she said. "That is certain, whatever else is. As +soon as Maurice comes we ought to be prepared to start. Do go, Lucia, +and see if there is any packing you can do--without attracting +attention, you know." + +"But, mamma," Lucia objected, "Maurice cannot be here to-day, nor even, +I believe, to-morrow, at the very soonest, and I will soon do what there +is to do." + +"There is a great deal. And I can't help you, my poor child. And there +ought not to be a moment's unnecessary delay." + +Lucia had to yield. She began to pack as if all their arrangements were +made, though they had no idea either when, or to what end, their +wanderings would recommence, nor were able to give a hint to those about +them of their intended departure. + +Another restless night passed, and another day began. There was the +faintest possibility, they calculated, that Maurice, if he started as +soon as he received Lucia's note, might reach them late at night. + +It was but the shadow of a chance, for Hunsdon, as they knew, lay at +some distance from either post-office or railway station, and the letter +might not reach him till this very morning. Yet, since he _might_ come, +they must do all they could to be ready. The day was very hot. All the +windows were open, and the shutters closed; a drowsy heat and stillness +filled the rooms. Mrs. Costello walked about perpetually. She had tried +to help Lucia, but had been obliged to leave off and content herself +with gathering up, here and there, the things that were in daily use, +and bringing them to Lucia to put away. They said very little to each +other. Mrs. Costello could think of nothing but Bailey, and she did not +dare to talk about him from some fanciful fear of being overheard. Lucia +thought of her mother's health and of Maurice, and Mrs. Costello had no +attention to spare for either. + +Suddenly, sounding very loud in the stillness, there came the roll of a +carriage over the rough stones of the Place. It stopped; there was a +moment's pause, and then a hasty ring at the door-bell. Both mother and +daughter paused and listened. There was a quick movement downstairs--a +foot which was swifter and lighter than Madame Everaert's on the +staircase--and Maurice at the sitting-room door. + +Mrs. Costello went forward from the doorway where she had been arrested +by the sound of his coming; Lucia, kneeling before a trunk in the +adjoining room, saw him standing there, and sprang to her feet; he came +in glad, eager, impatient to know what they wanted of him; and before +any of them had time to think about it, this meeting, so much desired +and dreaded, was over. + +"But how could you come so soon?" Mrs. Costello asked. "We did not +expect you till to-morrow." + +"By the greatest chance. I had been in town for two days. Our station +and post-office are at the same place. When they met me at the station, +they brought me letters which had just arrived, and yours was among +them. So I was able to catch the next train back to London, instead of +going home." + +"And which way did you come? The boat is not in yet?" + +"By Calais. It was quicker. Now tell me what has happened." + +Mrs. Costello looked carefully to see that the door was shut. Then she +told Maurice who and what she feared, and how she could not even leave +Bourg-Cailloux without help. + +"Yet, I think I ought to leave," she said. + +"Of course you ought," Maurice answered. "You must go to England." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +"You must go to England," Maurice said decidedly. "It is an easy +journey, and you would be quite safe there." + +"But I ought not to go to England," Mrs. Costello answered rather +uncertainly. "And Bailey might follow us there." + +"I doubt that. By what you say, too, if he were in England, we might +perhaps set the police to watch him, which would prevent his annoying +you. However, the thing to do is to carry you off before he has any idea +you are in Europe at all." + +Lucia stayed long enough to see that the mere presence of Maurice +inspired her mother with fresh courage; then she went back to her +packing, leaving the door ajar that she might hear their voices. She +went on with her work in a strange tumult and confusion. Not a word +beyond the first greetings had passed between Maurice and herself, but +she could not help feeling as if their positions were somehow +changed--and not for the worse. + +There had been no words; but just for one second Maurice had held her +hand and looked at her very earnestly; whereupon she had felt her cheeks +grow very hot, and her eyes go down to the ground as if she were making +some confession. + +After that he released her, and she went about her occupations. She +began to wonder now whether she would have to tell him how sorry she +was, or whether enough had been said; and to incline to the last +opinion. + +Meanwhile she went on busily. In about half an hour she heard Maurice go +out, and then Mrs. Costello came to her. + +"He is gone to make inquiries," she said; "you know there is a boat +to-night, but then we may not be able to get berths." + +"To-night, mamma, for England?" + +Mrs. Costello looked a little displeased at Lucia's surprise, "To be +sure," she said; "why, my dear child, you yourself thought England +would be the best place." + +"I did _think_ so certainly, but I did not know I had said it." + +"Well, can we be ready?" + +"I can finish packing in an hour, but there is Madame Everaert to +arrange with." + +"We must wait till Maurice comes back before doing that." + +"I suppose we must; mamma, will you please go and lie down? Otherwise +you will not be able to go." + +Mrs. Costello smiled. She felt able for any exertion to escape from her +enemy under Maurice's guidance. However, she did as her daughter wished, +and lay quietly waiting for his coming back. + +Lucia heard his steps first, notwithstanding. She had her last trunk +just ready for locking, and went into the sitting-room to hear the +decision, with her hair a little disordered and a bright flush of +excitement and fatigue on her cheeks. + +"Are we to go?" she said quickly. + +"I think you should if you can," he answered her. "But can you be +ready?" + +"By what time?" + +"Nine o'clock." + +"Everything is packed. Half an hour is all we really need now." + +"Three hours to spare then. Everything is in our favour. It is not a bad +boat, and there is room for us on board." + +"Have you taken berths then?" Mrs. Costello asked. + +"Yes. And I will tell you why I did so without waiting to consult you. I +made some inquiries about this fellow Bailey, and found out that it +would most likely not suit him to go to England for some time to come." + +"You inquired about him? Good heavens, what a risk!" + +"You forget, dear Mrs. Costello, that I was meant for a lawyer. Don't be +afraid. He has no more thought of you than of the Khan of Tartary." + +"If you only knew the comfort it is having you, Maurice; I was quite +helpless, quite upset by this last terror." + +"But you had been ill, mamma," Lucia interposed. "It was no wonder you +were upset." + +"That is not kind, Lucia," Maurice said, turning to her with a half +smile. "Mrs. Costello wishes to make me believe she depends on me, and +you try to take away the flattering impression." + +"Oh! no; I did not mean that. Mamma knows--" but there she got into +confusion and stopped. + +"Well," Mrs. Costello said, "we had better send for Madame Everaert, and +tell her we are going." + +Madame came. She was desolated, but had nothing to say against the +departure of her lodgers, and, as Lucia had told Maurice, half an hour +was enough for the settling of their last affairs at Bourg-Cailloux. + +Mrs. Costello did not wish to go on board the boat till near the hour +named for sailing; it was well, too, that she should have as much rest +as possible before her journey. She kept on her sofa, therefore, where +so large a portion of her time lately had been spent; and Lucia, from +habit, took her seat by the window. + +Then in the quiet twilight arose the question, "Where are we to go when +we reach England?" + +"Where?" Maurice said, "why, to Hunsdon, of course. My father will be so +pleased--and Louisa will come rushing over in ecstasies the moment she +hears." + +"That might be all very well," Mrs. Costello said, "if we were only +coming to England as visitors, but since we are not, I shall wish to +find a place were we can settle as quickly as possible. I should +certainly like it to be within reach of Hunsdon, if we can manage it." + +"Come to Hunsdon first, at any rate, and look out." + +"I think not, Maurice. We might stay in London for a week or two." + +"Well, if you _prefer_ it. But, at all events, I know perfectly well +that one week of London will be as much as either of you can bear. When +you have had that, I shall try again to persuade you." + +While they talked, Lucia sat looking out. For the last time she saw the +Place grow dusky, and then flame out with gas--for the last time she +watched the lighting of the beacon, and wondered how far on their way +they would be able to see it still. + +Eight o'clock struck; then a quarter past, and it was time to go. + +The boat lay in the dock. On board, a faint light gleamed out from the +cabin-door, but everything on shore was dark. Passengers were arriving +each moment, and their luggage stood piled up ready to be embarked. +Sailors were talking or shouting to each other in English and French; +the cargo of fruit and vegetables was still being stowed away, and +people were running against other people in the darkness, and trying +vainly to discover their own trunks on the deck, or their own berths in +the cabin. Into the midst of all this confusion Maurice brought his +charges; but as he had been on board in the afternoon, he knew where to +take them, and they found their own quarters without difficulty. While +he saw to their packages, they made their arrangements for the night. + +"I shall lie down at once," Mrs. Costello said. "It is not uncomfortable +here, and I think it is always best." + +"But it is so early, and on deck the air is so pleasant. Should you mind +my leaving you for a little while?" + +"Not at all. There is no reason why you should stay down here if you +dislike it. Maurice will take care of you." + +But Lucia had no intention of waiting for Maurice. She saw her mother +comfortably settled, and then stole up alone to the deck. The boat had +not yet started; it seemed to lie in the very shadow of the quaint old +town, and Lucia could trace the outline of the buildings against the +starry sky. + +She felt a little soft sensation of regret at saying good-bye to this +last corner of France. 'And yet,' she thought, 'I have been very unhappy +here. I wonder if England will be happier?' + +She stood leaning against the bulwarks, looking now at the town, now at +the dark glimmer of the water below, and, to tell the truth, beginning +to wonder where Maurice was. While she wondered, he came up to her and +spoke. + +"Lucia, it _is_ you then? I thought you would not be able to stay +below." + +"No. It is so hot. Here the night is lovely." + +"The deck is tolerably clear now. Come and walk up and down a +little--unless you are tired?" + +"I am tired, but to walk will rest me." + +As she turned he took her hand and put it through his arm. For a minute +they were silent. + +"Two days ago, Lucia," Maurice said "I thought this was an +impossibility." + +"What!" + +"Our being together--as we are now." + +"Did you? But you had promised to come if ever we were in trouble." + +"Yes. And I meant to keep my word. But I fancied you would never send +for me." + +"You see," Lucia said, trying to speak lightly, "that we had no other +friend to send for." + +"Is that so? Was that the only reason?" + +"Maurice!" + +"Tell me something, Lucia. Did you mean the last sentence of your note?" + +"What was it?" + +"You said you were unhappy." + +"Oh! yes, I was. _So_ unhappy--I was thinking of it just now." + +"And at present? Are you unhappy still?" + +"You know I am not." + +"I have been miserable, too, lately. Horribly miserable. I was ready to +do I can't tell you what absurdities. Until your note came." + +He stopped a moment, but she had nothing to say. + +"It is a great comfort to have got so far," he went on, "but I suppose +one is never satisfied. Now that I am not quite miserable, I should like +to be quite happy." + +Lucia could not help laughing, though she did so a little nervously. + +"Don't be unreasonable," she said. + +"But I am. I must needs put it to the touch again. Lucia, you know what +I want to say; can't you forget the past, and come home to Hunsdon and +be my wife?" + +They stood still side by side, in the starry darkness and neither of +them knew very well for a few minutes what they said. Only Maurice +understood that the object of his life was gained; and Lucia felt that +from henceforth, for ever, she would never be perverse, or passionate, +or wilful again, for Maurice had forgiven her, and loved her still. + +They never noticed that the boat was delayed beyond its time, and that +other passengers chafed at the delay. They stayed on deck in the +starlight, and said little to each other, but they both felt that a new +life had begun--a life which seemed to be grafted on the old one before +their troubles, and to have nothing to do with this last year. When +Maurice was about to say good-night at the cabin door, he made the first +allusion to what had brought them together. + +"I shall pension Bailey," he said. "His last good deed blots out all his +misdoings." + +"What good deed?" + +"Frightening you." + +"He did not frighten me." + +"Frightening Mrs. Costello then. It comes to the same thing in the end. +But why did not you send for your cousin, Mr. Wynter?" + +"Ask mamma." + +"I have something more interesting to ask her." + +Mrs. Costello knew tolerably well, when Lucia kissed her that night, +what had happened. She said nothing audibly, but in her heart there was +a _Nunc Dimittis_ sung thankfully; and in spite of the sea, she fell +asleep over it. The night was as calm as it could be, and Maurice, who +had no inclination for sleep or for the presence of the crowd below, +spent most of it on deck. Towards morning he went down; but at seven +o'clock, when Lucia peeped out, he was up again and waiting for her. She +only gave him a little nod and smile, however, and then retreated, but +presently came back with her mother. + +They got chairs and sat watching the coast, which was quickly coming +nearer, and the vessels which they passed lying out in the still +waters. + +"We shall be in in two hours," Maurice said, "though we were late +starting. The captain says he has not had such a good run this year." + +"For which I am very thankful," Mrs. Costello answered. + +"What a mercy it is to have got away so easily; it was well we sent to +you, Maurice." + +"Very well; the best thing that ever was done. Lucia and I agreed as to +that last night." + +Lucia pouted the very least in the world, and her mother smiled. + +"It seems to me you took a long while to settle the question. I thought +she was never coming." + +"Why, mamma? I came as soon as the boat started." + +"We have settled our differences," Maurice said, leaning down to speak +quietly to Mrs. Costello. "Do you give us leave to make our own +arrangements for the future?" + +"I think you are pretty sure of my leave." + +"Then we all go straight on to Hunsdon together?" + +"Are those your arrangements?" + +"Not mine, certainly," Lucia interposed. "I thought we were to stay in +London." + +"But why?" + +"Don't you see," Mrs. Costello asked, "that any little compact you two +children may have made has nothing to do with the necessity of my +finding a house for myself and my daughter--as long as she is only my +daughter." + +Maurice had to give way a second time. + +"Very well then," he said. "At all events you can't forbid me to stay in +London, too." + +"But I certainly shall. You may stay and see us settled, but after that +you are to go home and attend to your own affairs." + +They reached London by noon, and before night they found, and took +possession of, a lodging which Mrs. Costello said to herself would suit +them very well until Lucia should be married; after which, of course, +she would want to settle near Hunsdon. Maurice spent the evening with +them, but was only allowed to do so on condition of leaving London for +home next morning. + +As soon as they were at all settled, Mrs. Costello wrote to her cousin. +She told him that she had had urgent reason for quitting France +suddenly; that other causes had weighed with her in deciding to return +to England, and that she was anxious to see and consult with him. She +begged him, therefore, to come up to town and to bring one at least of +his daughters with him on a visit to Lucia. + +When the letter had been sent off, she said to her daughter, "Suppose +that we are penniless in consequence of our flight? What is to done +then?" + +"Surely that cannot be?" + +"I do not know until I see my cousin. I think it must depend legally on +the terms of your grandfather's will; but, in fact, I suppose George had +the decision in his hands." + +After this they both looked anxiously for Mr. Wynter's answer. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +But before Mr. Wynter had time to reply.--indeed, by the very first +possible post--came a letter to Lucia, the sight of which made her very +rosy. She had had plenty of letters from Maurice long ago, and never +blushed over them as she did over this; but then this was so different. +She did not even like to read it in her mother's presence. She just +glanced at it there, and carried it off to devour in comfort alone. It +was quite short, after all, for he had scarcely had ten minutes before +the post hour; but it said--beside several things which were of no +interest except to the reader--that he had found Lady Dighton at Hunsdon +on his arrival, and had told her and his father together of his +engagement; that his cousin was going to write and invite Mrs. Costello +to Dighton; and that Mr. Leigh said, if they did not come down +immediately, he should be obliged to start for London himself to tell +them how pleased he was. + +"At any rate," Maurice concluded, "I shall be in town again on Saturday. +I find I have business to see my lawyer about." + +All this--as well as the rest of the note--was very agreeable. Lucia +went and sat down on a footstool at her mother's feet to tell her the +news. Mrs. Costello laid her hand on her child's head and sighed softly. + +"You will have to give up this fashion of yours, darling," she said, +"you must learn to be a woman now." + +Lucia laughed. + +"I don't believe I ever shall," she answered. "At least, not with you or +with Maurice." + +"Would you like to go to Dighton?" + +She considered for a minute. + +"Yes, mamma, I think I should. You know how things are in those great +houses; but I have never seen anything but Canada, and even there, just +the country. I should not like, by-and-by, for people to laugh at +Maurice, because I was only an ignorant country girl." + +She spoke very slowly and timidly; but Mrs. Costello began to think she +was right. It would be as well that the future mistress of Hunsdon +should have some little introduction to her new world, to prepare her +for "by-and-by." + +Next day came two letters for Mrs. Costello, as well as one for Lucia. +The first was from Lady Dighton full of congratulation, and pressing her +invitation; the other, from Mr. Wynter, announced that he, his wife, and +daughter, would be in London next evening. Next evening was Saturday, +and Maurice also would be there, and would, of course spend Sunday with +them; so that they had a prospect of plenty of guests. + +Maurice, however, arrived early in the day. He had established himself +at a neighbouring hotel, and came in quite with the old air of being at +home. He made a little grimace when he heard of the others who were +expected, but contented himself by making the most of the hours before +their train was due. He found an opportunity also of conveying to Mrs. +Costello his conviction that Hunsdon was very much in want of a lady to +make it comfortable, and that Lucia would be much better there than +shut up in London. The fact that London was in its glory at that moment +made no impression on him. + +"That is just it," he said, when this was suggested to him. "I want to +get it settled and bring her back to enjoy herself here a little before +the season is over." + +It seemed, indeed, pretty evident that the present state of things could +not last long; there was no reason why it should, and nothing but the +bride's preparations to delay the long-desired wedding. + +The Wynters came about nine o'clock. Mrs. Wynter instantly recognized +Maurice. Her daughters had speculated enough about her mysterious +visitor that winter night, to have prevented her forgetting him, if she +would otherwise have done so, and the state of affairs at present was +very soon evident as an explanation of the mystery. When the party +separated for the night, Mrs. Costello and Mr. Wynter remained in the +drawing-room for that consultation for which he had come, while his wife +and daughter stayed together upstairs to talk over their new relations +before going to bed. + +Mrs. Costello, as briefly as possible, made her cousin comprehend that +she had been compelled to leave France, and had fled to England because +it was the most accessible refuge. + +"I never meant to have come back," she said. "I have never allowed +myself to think of it, because I could not disobey my father again." + +"I am glad you have come, to tell you the truth;" he answered. "I do not +at all imagine that, in your present circumstances, my uncle would have +wished to keep you away." + +Mrs. Costello looked relieved. + +"I am almost inclined to go further," he continued, "and to say that he +must have anticipated your return." + +"Why?" + +"Because in his will he gives you your income unconditionally, and only +expresses a wish that you should not come back." + +"Is it so really?" + +"Certainly. But you have a copy of the will." + +"It has not been unpacked since we came from Canada. I had made it so +much my duty to obey the request that I had forgotten it had no +condition attached to it." + +"It has none." + +"I am very glad; and you think he would have changed his mind now?" + +"I think so. Especially as it seems to me Lucia is likely to settle in +England." + +"Yes, indeed. That was the second thing I wanted to speak to you about." + +"They are engaged, I suppose?" + +"Yes; it has been the wish of my heart for years. Maurice is like a son +to me." + +They discussed the matter in its more commonplace aspect. The wealth and +position of the bridegroom elect were points as to which Mr. Wynter felt +it his business to inquire, and when he found these so satisfactory, he +congratulated his cousin with great cordiality, and plainly expressed +his opinion that delays in such a case were useless and objectionable. +He liked Lucia, and admired her, and thought, too, that there would be +no better way of blotting out the remembrance of the mother's +unfortunate marriage than by a prosperous one on the part of the +daughter. + +Meantime Mrs. Wynter sat in an easy-chair by her dressing-table, and her +daughter was curled up on the floor near her. + +"Well, mamma," Miss Wynter said, "you see I was right. I knew perfectly +well that there must be some romance at the bottom of it all." + +"You were very wise, my dear." + +"And, mamma, if I had seen Lucia, I should have been still more sure. +Why, she is perfectly lovely! I hope she will let me be her bridesmaid." + +"Tiny, you know I don't approve of your talking in that way." + +"What way, mamma? Of course, they are going to be married. Anybody can +see that." + +"If they are, no doubt we shall hear in good time." + +"And I am sure, if either of us were to marry half as well, the whole +house would be in a flutter. I mean to be very good friends with Lucia, +and then, perhaps, she will invite me to go and see her. And I _must_ be +her bridesmaid, because I am her nearest relation; and she can't have +any friends in England, and I shall make her let me have a white dress +with blue ribbons." + +Mrs. Wynter still reproved, but she smiled, too; and Tiny being a +spoiled child, needed no greater encouragement. She stopped in her +mother's room until she heard Mr. Wynter coming, when she fled, +dishevelled, to her own, and dropped asleep, to dream of following Lucia +up the aisle of an impossible church, dressed in white with ribbons of +_bleu de ciel_. + +Lucia perhaps had said to herself also that she meant to be good friends +with Tiny. At all events, the two girls did get on excellently together; +before the week which the Wynters spent in London was at an end, they +had discussed as much of Lucia's love story as she was disposed to tell, +and arranged that Tiny and her sister should really officiate on that +occasion to which everybody's thoughts were now beginning to be +directed. + +Another week found the Costellos at Dighton. They meant to stay a +fortnight or three weeks, and then to return to town until the marriage; +but of this no one of their Norfolk friends would hear a word. Lady +Dighton, Maurice, and Mr. Leigh had made up their minds that Lucia +should not leave the county until she did so a bride; and they carried +their point. The wedding-day was fixed; and Lucia found herself left, at +last, almost without a voice in the decision of her own destiny. + +And yet, these last weeks of her girlhood were almost too happy. She +went over several times with her mother and Lady Dighton to Hunsdon, +and grew familiar with her future home; she saw the charming rooms that +were being prepared for herself, and could sit down in the midst of all +this new wealth and luxury, and talk with Maurice about the old times +when they had no splendour, but little less happiness than now; and she +had delicious hours of castle-building, sometimes alone, sometimes with +her betrothed, which were pleasanter than any actual realization of +their dreams could be. + +Of course, they had endless talks, in which they said the same things +over and over again, or said nothing at all; but they knew each other so +thoroughly now, and each was so completely acquainted with all the +other's past that there was truly nothing for them to tell or to hear, +except the one old story which is always new. + +One day, however, Maurice came over to Dighton in a great hurry, with a +letter for Lucia to read. He took her out into the garden, and when they +were quite alone he took it out and showed it to her. + +"What is it?" she said. "It looks like a French letter." + +"It is French. Do you remember your friend, Father Paul?" + +"Of course. Oh, Maurice! it cannot be about Bailey?" + +"Indeed, it is. But don't look frightened. I wrote to Father Paul, and +this is his answer." + +"What made you write?" + +"Did not I say I would pension Bailey? _I_ don't forget my promises if +other people do." + +"Surely, you were only joking?" + +"Very far from it, I assure you. Your good friend undertook to manage +it, and he writes to me that my letter only arrived in time; that Bailey +was ill, and quite dependent on charity, and that he is willing to +administer the money I send in small doses suitable to the patient's +condition." + +"But, Maurice, it is perfect nonsense. Why should you give money to that +wretched man? _We_ might, indeed, do something for him." + +"Who are 'we?' You had better be careful at present how you use your +personal pronouns." + +"I meant mamma and I might, of course." + +"I do not see the 'of course' at all. Mamma has nothing whatever to do +with it--nor even you. This is simply a mark of gratitude to Mr. Bailey +for a service he did me lately." + +Lucia let her hand rest a little less lightly on Maurice's arm. + +"And me too," she said softly. + +"Use your 'we' in its right sense, then, and _we_ will reward him. But +not unless you are sure that you do not repent having been frightened." + +"Ah! you don't know how glad I was when mamma made me write that note. +It did better than the one I tore up." + +"What was that? Did you tear one up?" + +"Yes. After all, I don't believe you were as miserable as I was; for I +wrote once; I did actually write and ask you to come--only I tore up the +note--and you were consoling yourself with Miss Landor." + +"Miss Landor! By the way, has she been asked to come over, for the +tenth?" + +"I don't know. You ought to ask her yourself. Why did not you propose to +her, Maurice? Or perhaps you did?" + +"If I did not, you may thank Bailey. Yes, indeed, Lucia, you contrived +so well to persuade me you never would care for me that I began to +imagine it was best I should marry her; that is, supposing she would +have me." + +"And all the while I was doing nothing but think of you, and of how +wicked and ungrateful and all sorts of bad things I had been in Paris." + +"And I--" etc. etc. + +The rest of their conversation that morning was much like it was on +other days, and certainly not worth repeating. Lucia, however, took the +first opportunity of speaking to Lady Dighton about Miss Landor, and +seeing that her invitation for the wedding was not neglected. + +The tenth of July, Lucia's birthday and her marriage-day, came quickly +to end these pleasant weeks of courtship. It was glorious weather--never +bride in our English climate had more sunshine on her--and the whole +county rung with the report of her wonderful beauty, and of the romantic +story of these two young people, who had suddenly appeared from the +unknown regions of Canada, and taken such a prominent and brilliant +place in the neighbourhood. + +But they troubled themselves little just then, either with their own +marvellous fortunes or with the gossip of their neighbours. Out of the +quaint old church where generations of Dightons had been married and +buried, they came together, man and wife; and went away into "that new +world which is the old," to fulfil, as they best might, the dream to +which one of them had been so faithful. They went away in a great +clamour of bells and voices, and left Mrs. Costello alone, to comfort +herself with the thought that the changes and troubles of the past had +but served to redeem its errors, and to bring her, at last, the fuller +and more perfect realization of her heart's desire. + + + THE END. + + PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO., + LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Canadian Heroine, by Mrs. Harry Coghill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE *** + +***** This file should be named 18132.txt or 18132.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/1/3/18132/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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