"You must go to England," Maurice said decidedly. "It is an easy journey, and you would be quite safe there." "But I ought not to go to England," Mrs. Costello answered rather uncertainly. "And Bailey might follow us there." "I doubt that. By what you say, too, if he were in England, we might perhaps set the police to watch him, which would prevent his annoying you. However, the thing to do is to carry you off before he has any idea you are in Europe at all." Lucia stayed long enough to see that the mere presence of Maurice inspired her mother with fresh courage; then she went back to her packing, leaving There had been no words; but just for one second Maurice had held her hand and looked at her very earnestly; whereupon she had felt her cheeks grow very hot, and her eyes go down to the ground as if she were making some confession. After that he released her, and she went about her occupations. She began to wonder now whether she would have to tell him how sorry she was, or whether enough had been said; and to incline to the last opinion. Meanwhile she went on busily. In about half an hour she heard Maurice go out, and then Mrs. Costello came to her. "He is gone to make inquiries," she said; "you know there is a boat to-night, but then we may not be able to get berths." "To-night, mamma, for England?" Mrs. Costello looked a little displeased at Lucia's surprise, "To be sure," she said; "why, my dear "I did think so certainly, but I did not know I had said it." "Well, can we be ready?" "I can finish packing in an hour, but there is Madame Everaert to arrange with." "We must wait till Maurice comes back before doing that." "I suppose we must; mamma, will you please go and lie down? Otherwise you will not be able to go." Mrs. Costello smiled. She felt able for any exertion to escape from her enemy under Maurice's guidance. However, she did as her daughter wished, and lay quietly waiting for his coming back. Lucia heard his steps first, notwithstanding. She had her last trunk just ready for locking, and went into the sitting-room to hear the decision, with her hair a little disordered and a bright flush of excitement and fatigue on her cheeks. "Are we to go?" she said quickly. "I think you should if you can," he answered her. "But can you be ready?" "By what time?" "Nine o'clock." "Everything is packed. Half an hour is all we really need now." "Three hours to spare then. Everything is in our favour. It is not a bad boat, and there is room for us on board." "Have you taken berths then?" Mrs. Costello asked. "Yes. And I will tell you why I did so without waiting to consult you. I made some inquiries about this fellow Bailey, and found out that it would most likely not suit him to go to England for some time to come." "You inquired about him? Good heavens, what a risk!" "You forget, dear Mrs. Costello, that I was meant for a lawyer. Don't be afraid. He has no more thought of you than of the Khan of Tartary." "If you only knew the comfort it is having you, Maurice; I was quite helpless, quite upset by this last terror." "But you had been ill, mamma," Lucia interposed. "It was no wonder you were upset." "That is not kind, Lucia," Maurice said, turning to her with a half smile. "Mrs. Costello wishes to "Oh! no; I did not mean that. Mamma knows—" but there she got into confusion and stopped. "Well," Mrs. Costello said, "we had better send for Madame Everaert, and tell her we are going." Madame came. She was desolated, but had nothing to say against the departure of her lodgers, and, as Lucia had told Maurice, half an hour was enough for the settling of their last affairs at Bourg-Cailloux. Mrs. Costello did not wish to go on board the boat till near the hour named for sailing; it was well, too, that she should have as much rest as possible before her journey. She kept on her sofa, therefore, where so large a portion of her time lately had been spent; and Lucia, from habit, took her seat by the window. Then in the quiet twilight arose the question, "Where are we to go when we reach England?" "Where?" Maurice said, "why, to Hunsdon, of course. My father will be so pleased—and Louisa will come rushing over in ecstasies the moment she hears." "That might be all very well," Mrs. Costello said, "if we were only coming to England as visitors, but since we are not, I shall wish to find a place were we can settle as quickly as possible. I should certainly like it to be within reach of Hunsdon, if we can manage it." "Come to Hunsdon first, at any rate, and look out." "I think not, Maurice. We might stay in London for a week or two." "Well, if you prefer it. But, at all events, I know perfectly well that one week of London will be as much as either of you can bear. When you have had that, I shall try again to persuade you." While they talked, Lucia sat looking out. For the last time she saw the Place grow dusky, and then flame out with gas—for the last time she watched the lighting of the beacon, and wondered how far on their way they would be able to see it still. Eight o'clock struck; then a quarter past, and it was time to go. The boat lay in the dock. On board, a faint light gleamed out from the cabin-door, but everything on shore was dark. Passengers were arriving each "I shall lie down at once," Mrs. Costello said. "It is not uncomfortable here, and I think it is always best." "But it is so early, and on deck the air is so pleasant. Should you mind my leaving you for a little while?" "Not at all. There is no reason why you should stay down here if you dislike it. Maurice will take care of you." But Lucia had no intention of waiting for Maurice. She saw her mother comfortably settled, and then stole up alone to the deck. The boat had not yet She felt a little soft sensation of regret at saying good-bye to this last corner of France. 'And yet,' she thought, 'I have been very unhappy here. I wonder if England will be happier?' She stood leaning against the bulwarks, looking now at the town, now at the dark glimmer of the water below, and, to tell the truth, beginning to wonder where Maurice was. While she wondered, he came up to her and spoke. "Lucia, it is you then? I thought you would not be able to stay below." "No. It is so hot. Here the night is lovely." "The deck is tolerably clear now. Come and walk up and down a little—unless you are tired?" "I am tired, but to walk will rest me." As she turned he took her hand and put it through his arm. For a minute they were silent. "Two days ago, Lucia," Maurice said "I thought this was an impossibility." "What!" "Our being together—as we are now." "Did you? But you had promised to come if ever we were in trouble." "Yes. And I meant to keep my word. But I fancied you would never send for me." "You see," Lucia said, trying to speak lightly, "that we had no other friend to send for." "Is that so? Was that the only reason?" "Maurice!" "Tell me something, Lucia. Did you mean the last sentence of your note?" "What was it?" "You said you were unhappy." "Oh! yes, I was. So unhappy—I was thinking of it just now." "And at present? Are you unhappy still?" "You know I am not." "I have been miserable, too, lately. Horribly miserable. I was ready to do I can't tell you what absurdities. Until your note came." He stopped a moment, but she had nothing to say. "It is a great comfort to have got so far," he went on, "but I suppose one is never satisfied. Now that I am not quite miserable, I should like to be quite happy." Lucia could not help laughing, though she did so a little nervously. "Don't be unreasonable," she said. "But I am. I must needs put it to the touch again. Lucia, you know what I want to say; can't you forget the past, and come home to Hunsdon and be my wife?" They stood still side by side, in the starry darkness and neither of them knew very well for a few minutes what they said. Only Maurice understood that the object of his life was gained; and Lucia felt that from henceforth, for ever, she would never be perverse, or passionate, or wilful again, for Maurice had forgiven her, and loved her still. They never noticed that the boat was delayed beyond its time, and that other passengers chafed at the delay. They stayed on deck in the starlight, and said little to each other, but they both felt that a new life had begun—a life which seemed to be grafted on the old one before their troubles, and to have nothing to do with this last year. When Maurice was about to say good-night at the cabin door, he made the first allusion to what had brought them together. "I shall pension Bailey," he said. "His last good deed blots out all his misdoings." "What good deed?" "Frightening you." "He did not frighten me." "Frightening Mrs. Costello then. It comes to the same thing in the end. But why did not you send for your cousin, Mr. Wynter?" "Ask mamma." "I have something more interesting to ask her." Mrs. Costello knew tolerably well, when Lucia kissed her that night, what had happened. She said nothing audibly, but in her heart there was a Nunc Dimittis sung thankfully; and in spite of the sea, she fell asleep over it. The night was as calm as it could be, and Maurice, who had no inclination for sleep or for the presence of the crowd below, spent most of it on deck. Towards morning he went down; but at seven o'clock, when Lucia peeped out, he was up again and waiting for her. She only gave him a little nod and smile, however, and then retreated, but presently came back with her mother. They got chairs and sat watching the coast, which was quickly coming nearer, and the vessels which they passed lying out in the still waters. "We shall be in in two hours," Maurice said, "though we were late starting. The captain says he has not had such a good run this year." "For which I am very thankful," Mrs. Costello answered. "What a mercy it is to have got away so easily; it was well we sent to you, Maurice." "Very well; the best thing that ever was done. Lucia and I agreed as to that last night." Lucia pouted the very least in the world, and her mother smiled. "It seems to me you took a long while to settle the question. I thought she was never coming." "Why, mamma? I came as soon as the boat started." "We have settled our differences," Maurice said, leaning down to speak quietly to Mrs. Costello. "Do you give us leave to make our own arrangements for the future?" "I think you are pretty sure of my leave." "Then we all go straight on to Hunsdon together?" "Are those your arrangements?" "Not mine, certainly," Lucia interposed. "I thought we were to stay in London." "But why?" "Don't you see," Mrs. Costello asked, "that any little compact you two children may have made has nothing to do with the necessity of my finding a house for myself and my daughter—as long as she is only my daughter." Maurice had to give way a second time. "Very well then," he said. "At all events you can't forbid me to stay in London, too." "But I certainly shall. You may stay and see us settled, but after that you are to go home and attend to your own affairs." They reached London by noon, and before night they found, and took possession of, a lodging which Mrs. Costello said to herself would suit them very well until Lucia should be married; after which, of course, she would want to settle near Hunsdon. Maurice spent the evening with them, but was only allowed to do so on condition of leaving London for home next morning. As soon as they were at all settled, Mrs. Costello wrote to her cousin. She told him that she had had urgent reason for quitting France suddenly; that other causes had weighed with her in deciding to return to England, and that she was anxious to When the letter had been sent off, she said to her daughter, "Suppose that we are penniless in consequence of our flight? What is to done then?" "Surely that cannot be?" "I do not know until I see my cousin. I think it must depend legally on the terms of your grandfather's will; but, in fact, I suppose George had the decision in his hands." After this they both looked anxiously for Mr. Wynter's answer. |