all 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