To Bella also the meeting was a painful one.  Of all her friends, Maurice was the only one who was associated with her girlish happiness, and quite dissociated from her married life and its tragic ending.  The sight of him, therefore, renewed for the moment the recollections which she had taught herself to keep as much as possible for her solitary hours, and almost disturbed the calm she had forced upon herself in the presence of others.

Mrs. Bellairs, however, used to her sister’s calamity and ignorant of Maurice’s feelings, did not long delay referring to the Costellos.

“Here is Mr. Strafford’s note,” she said.  “I wrote and begged of him to tell me by what means a letter would be likely to reach them, and this is his answer.”

It was only a few lines, saying that Mrs. Costello had told him expressly that she should remain for some time in France, and would write to her Canadian friends as soon as she had any settled home, but that in the meantime he believed her movements would be known by her relative, Mr. Wynter, whose address he enclosed.

Maurice, whose anxiety was revived by the sight of this missive, examined it with as much care as if he expected to extract more information from it than in reality the writer possessed, but he was obliged to content himself with copying the address and giving the warmest thanks to Mrs. Bellairs for the help he thus gained.

“I suppose,” she asked smiling, “that I may entrust you with a message for Lucia?”

Maurice looked rather foolish.  He certainly did mean to follow up the clue in person, but he had not said so, and he fancied Mrs. Bellairs was inclined to laugh at him for his romance.

“I will carry it if you do,” he answered, “but I do not promise when it will be delivered.”

“You are really going to England at the time you spoke of last night?”

“Yes.”

“And from England to France is not much of a journey?”

“No; and I have not seen Paris yet.”

“Ah! well, you will go over and meet with them, and rejoice poor Lucia’s heart with the sight of a home face.”

“Shall I?  Will they be homesick, do you think?”

“They? I don’t know. She will, I think—­do not you, Bella?”

“At all events, she went away with her mind full of the idea that she would be sure to see you before long.”

Perhaps this speech was not absolutely true, but Maurice liked Bella better than ever as she said it.  He got up soon after, and went his way with a lighter heart about those various calls which must be made, and which were pleasant enough now that he saw his way tolerably clear before him with regard to that other and always most important piece of business.