Lucia. Under no circumstances, perhaps, could she have sat quietly down
to bewail her misfortunes, or have allowed herself to sink under them,
but, as it was, there was no temptation to indolent indulgence of any
kind. Bitter hours came still--came especially with the silence and
darkness of night, when her thoughts would go back to the sweet days of
the past summer and linger over them, till some word, or look, or
trifling incident coming to her memory more distinctly, would bring with
it the sudden recollection of the barren, dreary present,--of the
irreparable loss.

In all her thoughts of Percy there was comfort. He had loved her
honestly and sincerely, and if his nature was really lower than her own,
she was not likely to guess it. She had acted, in dismissing him, on a
kind of distrust, she would have said, of human nature; more truly, of
him; but even this distrust was so vague and so disguised that it never
shadowed his character in her eyes. So, though she had parted from him,
she took comfort in the thought of his love, and kept it in her heart to
save herself from the overwhelming sense of degradation, which took
possession of her in remembering why she had sent him away from her.

It was this feeling which, in spite of her courage and her pride, had
brought to her face that look of real trouble of which Mrs. Bellairs had
spoken. It was a look of which she was herself entirely unconscious,
more like the effect of years of care, than like that of a sudden
sorrow. With this change of expression on her face, and sobered, but
cheerful and capable as ever in her ways and doings, Lucia made her
preparations for leaving the place which was so dear and familiar to
her.

Mrs. Costello's spirits had risen since their plans were settled. The