The time of the Assizes drew near, and Mrs. Costello looked forward to
it with feelings of mixed, but almost wholly painful, anticipation. She
was now in daily expectation of receiving a letter from her cousin,
which should authorize her to send Lucia at once to England, and she had
not yet dared to speak on the subject. She thought, with reluctance, of
sending her child to the neighbourhood of Chester, where her own youth
and unfortunate marriage might still be remembered, or, if almost
forgotten, would be readily called to mind by the singular beauty of the
half-Indian girl; and she doubted how far the only other arrangement
which suggested itself to her, that of placing her daughter at school,
might be practicable. She had, also, to add to her other perplexities, a
lurking conviction that, whenever Lucia did become aware of the plans
that had been made for her, those plans stood no small chance of being
entirely swept away; or, if carried out at all, that they would be
finally shaped and modified according to Lucia's own judgment and
affection for herself, of which two qualities she had for a long time
been having daily stronger proofs. But in whatever way she regarded the
future, it was full of difficulties and darkness; and she had no longer
either strength or courage to face these hopefully. The fainting fits
which had twice alarmed Lucia, and which she spoke of as trifling and
temporary indispositions, she herself knew perfectly well to be only one
of the symptoms of a firmly-rooted and increasing disease. She had taken
pains to satisfy herself of the truth; she knew that she might live for
years; and that, under ordinary circumstances, there was very little
fear of the immediate approach of death; but she knew, also, that every
hour of agitation or excitement hastened its steps; and how could she
hope to avoid either? The very effort to decide whether she ought to
part with her child, or to suffer her to remain and face the impending