Lucia came with flushed cheeks and beating heart into the presence of
her mother and Mr. Strafford. She longed to have her question answered
at once, yet dreaded to ask it. They were waiting tea for her; and the
bright cheerful room, with its peaceful home-look, the table and
familiar tea-service, the perfectly settled and calm aspect of
everything about, struck upon her disturbed fancy with a jarring sense
of unfitness. But in a very little while the calm began to have a more
reasonable effect; and by the time tea was over, she was ready to hear
what had been done, without such an exaggerated idea of its importance,
as she had been entertaining during her long hours of suspense.

Yet still she did not ask; and after a little while, Mrs. Costello said,

"Mr. Strafford has been all the afternoon in Cacouna. I have scarcely
had time yet to hear all he had to tell me."

Lucia glanced at her mother and then at their friend; she was glad the
subject had been commenced without her, and only expressed by her eyes
the anxiety she felt regarding it.

Mr. Strafford looked troubled. He felt, with a delicacy of perception
which was almost womanly, the many sided perplexities increasing the
already heavy trial of Mrs. Costello's life. He grieved for the child
whom he had known from her birth now plunged so young into a sea of
troubles, and as he saw how bravely and steadily she met them, his
desire to help and spare her grew painfully strong. If he could have
said to them both, "Go, leave the miserable wretch to his fate, and find
a home where you will never need to fear him again," he would have done
it with most genuine relief and satisfaction; but he could not do so--at
least, not yet; and duty was far from easy at that moment.