t 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 t