you singing your mother's favourite song:

'Alas! I scarce can go or creep,
Now Lubin is away.'

Lubin! What a name! Mind you come, whatever else you do. Think of the
importance of the subject. Dresses, my dear, wedding-dresses!

"Ever yours,
"BELLA."


Lucia read Bella's effusion hastily through, and gave it to her mother.
Mrs. Costello laughed as she finished it.

"When will you go on this important errand?" she asked.

"Oh! not to-day, mamma, I am tired, and they don't really want me. I
shall stay with you this afternoon."

"I have been writing to Mr. Strafford," Mrs. Costello said after a
pause. "Some time ago I asked him to come up and see us; he could not do
so then, but I hope now to be able to persuade him. I think, too, that
the squaw who was here yesterday may be one of his people. Formerly I
knew something of many of them; that might account for her coming. I
have told him of it, and will do nothing until I receive his answer."

Lucia was silent; she longed to say something, but the conviction that
her mother was quite decided in her reticence on the subject of the
mystery, which was clearly so painful a one, restrained her. They dined,