They were the first words she thought of, and
they sufficed. He went home, and commenced his preparations for
departure without further delay; by that means greatly contenting Mrs.
Bellairs, who at present wished for nothing so much as to be rid of her
handsome guest. She was very civil to him, however, in the prospect of
his going away, and the temptation to speak to her about Lucia again
beset him strongly. But then to tell her, or even hint to her ever so
slightly, that he had been rejected by a little simple Canadian girl,
was not so easy a matter to his masculine pride as it would have been
yesterday, so the time passed, and nothing was said.

As the boat went down the river Mr. Percy stood on deck, and watched
anxiously for the Cottage, hoping to catch the flutter of a light dress,
and to know that Lucia saw him go. But all was still and seemingly
deserted; not a sign of her presence was visible, though he strained
his eyes to the last moment. Yet she was watching also. Wrapped in a
dark cloak, she stood among the trees, where she knew the shadows would
conceal her, and took that last look which she had not courage to forbid
herself. She put her arm round the slender trunk of an acacia tree, and,
leaning forward, followed the receding boat, with a sickening eagerness,
till it had completely disappeared; then her head sank for a moment
against the tree, with one bitter yet suppressed cry. Sorrow was so new
to her yet.

Little had been said between the mother and daughter in this crisis of
Lucia's life. Mrs. Costello watched her child's pale and exhausted looks
with painful solicitude, but she knew that words were useless. There
was, therefore, neither complaint nor condolence; they went on with
their usual occupations, and spoke, though not much, of their usual
subjects. One thing, certainly, was different. Mrs. Costello went,
instead of Lucia, to pay the long daily visit to Mr. Leigh. She said she
wanted herself to have a consultation with him, about some small affairs
in which she had been used to consult him, and Lucia was thankful to be
spared, for one day, the danger of her old friend's scrutiny. But on
the next day she went herself. A note from Mr. Strafford had reached
them, accounting for his delay, and saying that he would arrive that
evening, the very evening of Mr. Percy's departure, and she wished to go
with her new self into more familiar company before facing one who,
though so closely connected with