at heart, but steadfast and at peace. So the days passed on, and grew
into weeks, and the time for their leaving Cacouna came very near. It
had been delayed more than a week beyond the month on which Mrs.
Costello had first counted for security; but on the very eve of their
departure she had overcome her anxiety, and was secretly glad to make
the most of every little excuse for lingering yet another and another
day at the cottage.

It was now Monday evening, and on Wednesday they were to start. A letter
from Maurice had arrived that morning--the first which he had written
after receiving news from home, and it contained an enclosure to Mrs.
Costello, which Lucia wondered her mother did not show her. But she
would have wondered more, perhaps, if she had known why, in spite of the
easily-read wistfulness in her glance, that note was so carefully
withheld from her. It alluded, in fact, too plainly to the conversation
in which, for the first time, Maurice had, just before going away,
spoken to Mrs. Costello of herself and his affection for her. He said
now, "My father has sent me an account of Miss Latour's wedding, which
he said he made Lucia describe to him for my benefit. But I have a
curiosity to hear more about it, or rather about her. To tell the truth,
I am longing for a letter from you, not only to bring me news of my
father, but to satisfy me that all my hopes are not being built upon an
impossibility. Is Percy still at Cacouna? Don't laugh at me. My
occupations here leave me plenty of time to think of you all, and I
depend upon you not to let me be left quite in the dark on the subject
to which I cannot help giving most of my thoughts."

Mrs. Costello smiled to herself as she read; but she put off Lucia's
questioning with a very unfaithful summary of the contents of the note.
It was certainly strange how much vague comfort she took in the