self had been ignorant of any reason for acting as she
had just done until last night; it was, therefore, very unlikely that
Mrs. Bellairs, dear friend though she was, knew anything of this matter.
And if there was a family secret, what right had he to betray it?

He gave up, therefore, this hope, and tried to content himself with the
other, on which, however, he placed little reliance, that Lucia herself
might recall him before the day was over. In the almost certainty that
he had lost her, it was strange how completely he again forgot the
difficulties that had troubled him before, and thought simply of her. At
that moment he would willingly have sacrificed everything he _could_
sacrifice for the knowledge that her secret was only a phantom, and that
she was really to be his wife. Of course such a mood could not last. As
evening drew on, and there was no word or sign from the Cottage, he
began to feel angry both with Lucia and himself; and at night, when he
had announced to his host and hostess that he should leave them by the
next day's boat, he had made another step, and begun to think it
possible that this state of affairs was better and more sensible than if
he had been successful in his plan for delaying his journey a little
longer and taking a bride home with him. After all, he concluded, this
might only be a delay. If Lucia had refused to marry him, she had also
declared that she would not marry at all. She meant, therefore, to
remain free, and a year hence perhaps all might yet come right. If she
cared for him, she would have come to her senses by that time, and be
more able to judge whether they really must remain apart or not.

But early in the morning, when he woke, and remembered that it was the
last time he would wake in her neighbourhood, he was seized with an
unconquerable longing to see her again, however fruitlessly. He stole
out softly, and walked to the Cottage. He knew that Lucia often worked
among her flowers early, and guessed that that morning she would not be
likely to sleep. He looked eagerly into the garden. She was not there,
but he caught the flutter of her dress on the verandah; and thus
encouraged, he walked to the door boldly and knocked; but Lucia had seen
him also. She hurried to her own room. And when Margery, much amazed,
came to tell her that Mr. Percy was asking for her, she said quietly,
"Tell him that I have not left my room yet, and that I wish him a safe
and prosperous voyage."