, and afterwards to Lucia's
room, but it was not until her mother left her that it struck the poor
child that some new alarm or distress had happened.

"I shall not go to sleep," she said to herself, "but wait and ask mamma
when she comes in;" but youth and fatigue were too strong for her
resolution, and she was soon fast asleep. It was not, indeed, till dawn
that Mrs. Costello came; her night had been spent like so many before
it, in painful thought and vigil; but before she slept, she had, as she
hoped, fixed clearly and definitely her plans for the future. To have
done this, was in itself a kind of relief. She slept at last calmly, and
woke in the morning with a sensation of certainty and renewed courage,
which she had long been without.

At breakfast she was so cheerful and had so many questions to ask about
the previous day, that Lucia readily persuaded herself that she had no
need to be uneasy.

She did indeed say, "Have you heard from Mr. Strafford?" but Mrs.
Costello's answer satisfied her: "I had a note yesterday evening. He is
coming up, and may be here to-morrow," and no more was said.

She found when she went over, soon after breakfast, to Mr. Leigh's, that
the post of the evening before had brought him also a letter, full of
interest to them all. It was from Maurice; and though it only described
his journey to New York, his stay there, and the steamer in which he had
taken his passage for England, it seemed for the moment almost to bring
him back home. They lingered over it, as people do over the first
letter, and amused themselves by guessing how far he could yet be on
his voyage; whether the weather, which at Cacouna had been fair and
calm, would have been good or bad for those far out on the Atlantic.
That day neither Lucia nor Mr. Leigh cared for newspaper or book. They
had plenty to talk about, for when the subject of the letter was
completely finished, there still remained the wedding, of which Mr.
Leigh said Maurice would be sure to demand a full account. So they
talked hour after hour, and forgot how time was going, until Mrs.
Costello, growing uneasy, came to look for her daughter, and found them
still absorbed in their gossip.

But when the afternoon began to be almost over, and there had been no
other interruptions to their quiet, Lucia found the interest of
yesterday worn out, and felt a vague want of something beyond her
mother's or Mr. Leigh's companionship. Mr. Percy's usual visit had no