that can be entrusted to a letter, write fully, and I will give you the
best advice I can; but send your letter to the post-office at Claremont,
on the American side, and I will myself call there for it. I shall also
post my letters to you there for the present.

"With every good wish for you and for your child, believe me, sincerely
yours,
"A. STRAFFORD."


Lucia had looked for a solution of the mystery, but this letter was
none. Rather it was a new and bewildering problem. That it was the
immediate cause of her mother's illness was evident enough, but why? Who
was "C."? Why did she fear his return? What could be the fear strong
enough to induce such precautions for secrecy? Her senses seemed utterly
confused. But after the first few minutes, she remembered that Mrs.
Costello had probably meant to keep her still ignorant of a mystery to
which she had, in all the recollections of her life, no single clue--she
might therefore be still further agitated by knowing that she had read
this letter. "I must put it aside," she thought, "and not tell her until
she is well again."

She slipped the letter into her pocket, scribbled her note to Mrs.
Scott, and returned to the invalid's room. The faintness had now quite
passed away, and Lucia thought, as she entered, that her mother's eyes
turned to her with a peculiar look of inquiry. Happily the room was
dark, so that the burning colour which rose to her cheeks was not
perceptible; for the rest, she contrived to banish all consciousness
from her voice, as she said quietly, "I have been writing to Mrs. Scott,
to say I cannot leave you to-night."