of her thoughts. As Christian's death, and all the agitation consequent
upon it, settled back into the past, she had plenty of leisure and
plenty of temptation to revert to her old hopes and schemes. Half
consciously she had allowed herself to build up a charming fabric of
possibilities. _Possibly_ Maurice might write and say, "It is Lucia I
love, Lucia I want to marry. It matters nothing to me what her father is
or was." (Quixotic and not-to-be-counted-upon piece of generosity!)
_Possibly_ she herself might then be justified in answering, "The
accusation brought against her father has been proved false--my child is
stainless--and you have proved your right to her;" and it was
impossible, she believed, that Lucia, hearing all the truth, should not
be touched as they would have her.

These imaginations, built upon such ardent and long-indulged wishes,
acquired a considerable degree of strength during her visit to Mr.
Strafford; and although a little surprised at not receiving, during her
stay there, the usual weekly note from Maurice which she had calculated
would cross her last important letter on the way, she came home eager to
see Mr. Leigh, and to hear from him the last news from England.

But when she had paid her visit to her old neighbour, she came back
puzzled, disappointed, and slightly indignant. There was an air of
constraint about Mr. Leigh, especially when he spoke of Maurice, which
was so entirely new as to appear a great deal more significant than it
really was; and this, added to the fact that two letters had been
received, one written before, and the other after the arrival of hers,
neither of which contained so much as a message for her or Lucia,
suddenly suggested to Mrs. Costello that she was a very foolish woman
who was still wasting her wishes and thoughts on plans, the time for
which had gone by, instead of following steadily, and without