irely 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 b