At last Mrs. Costello roused herself.

“We must put off our journey,” she said, with a smothered sigh, which, indeed, had nearly been a groan.

Lucia looked up.

“It may not be true,” she answered, knowing that there was no need to say what “it” was—­the idea which had seized upon both their minds with so deadly a grasp.

“It may not, God grant it!  But we must know; and if it is, I ought to be here.”

“Mother, you cannot.  It will kill you.”

Mrs. Costello smiled, the wan smile of long-taxed patience.

“No,” she said, “I think not.  Life is hard for both of us, hardest perhaps for you, darling, just now, but I have no thought that it is over yet for either of us.”

Lucia came and knelt down in her old place by her mother’s side.  It always seemed as if thus close together, able to speak to each other as much by caresses as by words, they were both stronger, and could look more calmly at the calamities which threatened them with every evil except that of separation.

“You will write to Mr. Strafford?” Lucia asked.

“Yes; but first we must know certainly.”

“And how to do that?”

“There will be no difficulty to-morrow.  Mr. Leigh is sure to hear the particulars.  I will go and ask him about them.”

“You do not mean to tell him?”

“No; it will be easy enough without that, to ask about a subject which every one will be talking of.”

“Mamma, I can go to Mr. Leigh as well as you.  I can go better, for I shall not suffer as you will, and I can bring you home a faithful account of what I hear.”

“Darling, all this is new to you.  I have had to serve a long apprenticeship to learn self-restraint.”

Lucia laughed bitterly.  “See the advantage of my Indian blood,” she said.  “Trust me, mother, I will be as steady as those ancestors of mine who bore torture without flinching.”

Mrs. Costello bent down and kissed her child’s forehead.

“Yours is a better heroism, Lucia; for mental pain is harder to bear than physical, and you would suffer to save me.”

“We suffer together, mamma.  I must take my share.  To-morrow I shall go, as usual, to Mr. Leigh’s, and bring back all I can learn.  But he will wonder to see me, and still more if he hears that we are not going away.”

“You must simply tell him our journey is put off.  He will ask no questions, and only think I am very dilatory and changeable.  No one else is likely to think of us at all for a day or two to come.”