Lucia shook her head.

“Maurice will be a great man, and have to stay at home and look after his estates, and by-and-by you will all forget us when he and Mr. Leigh are living together in Norfolk, and mamma and I are wandering—­who knows where?”

Bella’s hand fell softly upon her friend’s; but they said no more.  The others, too, had grown silent, and there was little more talk among them that night.

But after they had separated, and the mother and daughter were alone, Lucia asked whether their voyage was still really to take place immediately?

Mrs. Costello was sitting thoughtfully watching a little disk of glowing light formed by the opening in the stove door; she took her eyes from it slowly, and paused so long before answering that Lucia began to doubt whether she had heard.

“Yes,” she said at last, speaking deliberately, as if she were still debating the question in her own mind.  “I believe we shall be able to arrange everything here so as to reach New York in time for the Havre steamer of the 28th.  That will be our best way of going.”

“That is, four weeks from to-day?”

“We may not need so long.  But I wish to be at liberty to spend a week at the island, if, when we get there, I should wish to do so.  I am not sure even about that.  It may be more pain than pleasure.  And we may trust ourselves now to say good-bye to our friends here; and if we sail on the 28th, we must leave Cacouna, on the 26th at the latest.  The time will soon pass.”

“Yes, indeed,” Lucia answered with a sigh.

“But, mamma,” she went on a minute afterwards.  “Why cannot we wait till spring?” There was a kind of tremble in her voice as she spoke, for she felt a strange mixture of desire and reluctance for this journey.  On one hand, she wished to reach Europe quickly, because Percy was there, and because even if they never met again, she believed she should be able to hear of him, and to satisfy herself that he still thought of her.  On the other, she was really a little afraid of the winter voyage.  She had never even seen the sea, and had a kind of mysterious awe of it.  Stronger, however, than any selfish feeling was a keen anxiety which had taken possession of her with regard to her mother’s health, the feebleness of which became daily more apparent; so that her double wishes neutralized each other, and she could scarcely tell whether if the decision rested with her, it would have been to stay or to go.

But she wanted to hear her mother’s reasons, so she asked—­

“Why cannot we wait till spring?”

Mrs. Costello again paused before answering.  She, like Lucia, had more thoughts on the subject than she was willing to express; but she had one powerful reason for losing no time, which she decided that Lucia ought to know.

“Because I am anxious to see my cousin, who is almost our only relation, and to introduce you to him.”