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 h