But before she was ready to leave the room her sorrow had come back, too strong and bitter to leave place for other thoughts.  The vivid hope of Percy’s faithful recollection enduring at least for a year, had come to give her strength and courage in the very time when her youthful energies had almost broken down under the weight of so many troubles; it had been a kind of prop on which she leaned through her last partings and anxieties, and which seemed to be the very foundation of her recent content.  To have it struck away from her suddenly, left her helpless and confused; her own natural forces, or the support of others, might presently supply its place, but for the moment she did not know where to look to satisfy the terrible want.

She went out, however, to face her small world, with what resolution she could muster, and was not a little glad that the dim light would save her looks from any close scrutiny.

Lady Dighton had been paying a long visit to Mrs. Costello, and the two perfectly understood each other.  They both thought, also, that they understood what had occurred that morning, and why Lucia had a headache.  Maurice had not made his appearance at his cousin’s luncheon, as she expected, but that was not wonderful.  Lady Dighton, however, had said to Mrs. Costello,

“It is quite extraordinary to me how Lucia can have seen Maurice’s perfect devotion to her, and not perceived that it was more than brotherly.”

Mrs. Costello did not feel bound to explain that Lucia’s thoughts, as far as they had ever been occupied at all with love, had been drawn away in quite a different direction, so she contented herself with answering,

“She is very childish in some things, and she has been all her life accustomed to think of him as a brother.  I knew he would have some difficulty at first in persuading her to think otherwise.”

“He can’t have failed?”

“I hope not.  She has not told me anything, and therefore I do not suppose there is anything decisive to tell.”

After their conversation the two naturally looked with interest for Lucia’s coming.  They heard her stirring, and exchanged a few more words,

“Perhaps we shall know now?”

“At any rate, Maurice will enlighten us when he arrives.”

Lucia came in, gliding silently through the dim light.  Her quiet movement was unconscious—­she would have chosen to appear more, rather than less, animated than usual.  Lady Dighton came forward to meet her.

“So you walked too far this morning?” she said.  “I think it was a little too bad when you knew I was coming to see you to-day.”

“I did not think I should be so tired,” Lucia answered, and the friendly dusk hid her blush at her own disingenuousness.

“Are you quite rested, my child?” Mrs. Costello asked anxiously.

“Yes, mamma.  My head aches a little still, but it will soon be better, I dare say.  I am ashamed of being so lazy.”