rows 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 b