"How?"

"Do you remember meeting a Cunard steamer two days out at sea?"

"You were on board? How I strained my eyes to see if I could distinguish you!"

"Did you? And I too. But though I could not see you, I felt that you were on board the ship we met."

"I was sitting on deck, longing for a telescope. Well, it is all right now. Did you bring Mr. Leigh home?"

"Yes; he is at Hunsdon, safe and well."

"Hunsdon is your house now, is not it? Tell me what it is like?"

"A great square place, with a huge white portico in front--very ugly, to tell the truth; but you would like the park, Lucia, and the trees."

"It must be very grand. Does it feel very nice to be rich?"

"That depends on circumstances. But now do you think you are to ask all the questions and answer none?"

"No, indeed. There is one answer."

"Do you like Paris?"

"Well enough. It is very lonely here without anybody."

"Are you going to stay here?"

"For a month or two, I think."

"You will not be quite so lonely then in future--at least if I may come to see you."

"May come? That is a new idea. But are you going to stay in Paris, too?"

"I must stay for a few weeks. And I expect my cousin Lady Dighton over soon, and she wants to know you."

"To know _us_? Oh, Maurice! you forget what a little country girl I am, and mamma, poor mamma is not well enough to go out at all, scarcely."

"Is she such an invalid, really? Have you had advice for her?"

"It is disease of the heart," Lucia said in a very low sorrowful tone, all her gaiety disappearing before the terrible idea--"the only thing that is good for her is to be quiet and happy--and the last few months have been so dreadful, she has suffered so."

"And you? But I have heard all. Lucia, I would have given all I am worth in the world to have been able to help you."

"I often wished for you, especially when I used to fear that our old friends would desert us. I never thought _you_ would."

"There is some comfort in that. Promise that whatever may come, you will always trust me."

He held out his hand, and Lucia put hers frankly in it.

Just at that moment there was a stir, and Mrs. Costello called "Lucia."

CHAPTER XI.

Mrs. Costello woke up gradually from her doze. She had been dreaming of Cacouna, and that Maurice and Lucia were sitting near her talking of his journey to England. She opened her eyes and found herself in a strange room which she soon recognized, but still it seemed as if part of her dream continued, for she could hear the murmur of two voices, very low, and could see Lucia sitting in the adjoining room and talking to somebody. Lucia, in fact, had forgotten to keep watch.

Mrs. Costello listened for a minute. It was strangely like Maurice's voice. She sat up, and called her daughter.

Lucia started up and came into the salon. She bent down over her mother, and kissed her to hide her flushed face and happy eyes for a moment.

"Are you rested, dear mamma?" she asked.

"Yes, darling. Who is there?"

"A visitor, mother, from England."

"From England? Not your cousin?"

"No, indeed. Guess again."

"Tell me. Quickly, Lucia."

"What do you say to Maurice?"

"Impossible!"

But Maurice, hearing his own name, came forward boldly.

"I have but just arrived, Mrs. Costello. I told you I should find you out."

They looked at each other with something not unlike defiance, but nevertheless Mrs. Costello shook hands with her guest cordially enough.

Certainly he _had_ kept his word--there might be a mistake somewhere, and at all events, for the present moment he was here, and it was very pleasant to see him.

So the three sat together and talked, and it seemed so natural that they should be doing it, that what did begin to be strange and incredible was the separation, and the various events of the past six months. But after Claudine had come in, and Lucia had been obliged to go away "on hospitable cares intent," to arrange with her some little addition to the dinner which Maurice was to share with them, the newcomer took advantage of her absence, and resolved to get as many as possible of his difficulties over at once. He had not yet quite forgiven his faithless ally, and he meant to make a new treaty, now that he was on the spot to see it carried out.

"I am afraid," he began, "that my coming so unexpectedly must have startled you a little, but I thought it was best not to write."

Mrs. Costello could not help smiling--she was quite conscious of her tactics having been surpassed by Maurice's.

"I am glad to see you, at any rate," she said, "now you _are_ here; but"

she added seriously, "you must not forget, nor try to tempt me to forget, that we are all changed since we met last."

"I do not wish it. I don't wish to forget anything that is true and real, and I wish to remind you that when I left Canada I did so with a promise--an implied promise at any rate--from you, which has not been kept."

"Maurice! Have you a right to speak to me so?"