“These letters made my way clearer.  It was settled that I should take advantage of Christian’s absence (for he had again left the island) to remove with you to the most secure hiding-place we could find, and as a large town always offers the best means of concealment, we decided upon Montreal.  So after a residence of six years on the island, I left it at last, carrying you with me and calling myself a widow.  It was then that I took the name of Costello.  It was my mother’s family name, and is really, as you have always supposed, Spanish—­my great-grandfather having been a Spaniard.  I gave you the name at your baptism, so that it is really yours, though not mine.

“For six months we remained in Montreal; but I had been so long used to the silence and free air of the island that my health failed in the noisy town.  I was seized with a terror of dying, and leaving you unprotected, and therefore determined to try whether I could not remain concealed equally well in the country.  A chance made me think of this neighbourhood, which, though rather too near my old home, was then very retired, and not inhabited at all by Indians.  I came up, found this place for sale and bought it.  There was only a very rough log-house upon the ground, but I went into that until this cottage was ready, and here you can remember almost all that has happened.”

Lucia raised her head as her mother finished speaking.

“But—­my father!” she said hesitatingly.

“I forgot.”  Mrs. Costello resumed.  “Mr. Strafford kept me informed of his movements for some time.  He came back shortly after we had left the island, and on finding us gone, he tried all means to discover where we were.  He actually traced us to Montreal, but there lost the clue, and came back disappointed.  For some years he continued to live much as he had done ever since his return from England, frequently staying two or three weeks on the island, and never forgetting to make some effort to trace us.  The perpetual terror I suffered during those years never subsided.  I feared to go outside of my own garden lest he should meet and recognize me.  At last Mr. Strafford sent me word that he had gone to the Hudson’s Bay Territory.

“After that I began to feel that I was free, and from the time you were nine until you were sixteen I had little immediate anxiety; then, as I saw you growing up, I knew that the time when you must know your own birth and my history drew very near, and the idea weighed on me constantly.  Other anxieties came too, and finally, worst of all, news that Christian had returned.”

“And now,” Lucia asked, “do you know where he is?”

“No.  But I have been warned that he is seeking for us.  They say that we have more reason than ever to fear him, and that he is looking for us in this part of the province.”

Mrs. Costello’s voice sunk almost to a whisper.  She seemed to fancy that the man she had so long escaped might be close at hand, and Lucia caught the infection of her terror.  They remained silent a minute, listening fearfully to the light rustling of the leaves outside, as the breeze stirred them.