"Maurice is a foolish boy. I have been a little worried, but that is
all."

Lucia gathered all her courage. "But, dear mother, why do you always
give me that answer? Why not tell me what it is that troubles you?"

Mrs. Costello shrank back. "Not yet, darling. I am a coward, and should
have to tell you a long story. Wait awhile."

"And while I wait, you suffer alone."

"I should not suffer less, my child, if you knew all. For your own sake
I have not yet shared my troubles, such as they are, with you; for your
own sake I see that I must soon do so. Leave me at present to decide, if
I can, what is best for us both."

Lucia was silent. She saw that even this short conversation had
disturbed, instead of comforting her mother; she dared not therefore say
more, and could only busy herself in arranging everything with
affectionate care for her comfort during the night.

Next morning when Maurice came, he was surprised to find Mrs. Costello
up, and looking as usual. Lucia's uneasiness had almost melted away in
the daylight; she was more gentle and attentive than usual to her
mother, but had persuaded herself that with her care, and, above all,
with her sympathy, when the promised "long story" should be told, all
would come right. She had still, however, enough need of sympathy to
make her manner to Maurice such as he liked best. He went away a second
time very happy, thinking, "She is but a child. If that fellow were but
gone she would soon forget him, and be herself again."