r hand, was predisposed to take the
worst view, and to congratulate herself upon it, since it had helped to
leave Lucia free. But not believing that the poor girl had been the
object of a genuine, though transient passion, she for once was ready to
judge her hardly, and to accuse her of having been wilfully and
foolishly deceived.

There was a bitter pang to the mother's heart in thinking this; but the
recollections of her own youth made the idea the less improbable to her,
and made her also the gentler, even in her injustice. She said not a
word of blame, but coaxed from her child the story of the meeting that
morning, that she might find out how much Maurice had seen or heard of
the truth. He understood _all_. Lucia said so frankly, though she
blushed at the confession; he had not needed to be told, and he had been
so good!

Mrs. Costello could have groaned aloud. It needed an effort to keep
still, and not express the anger and impatience she felt. Maurice!
Maurice, who was worth fifty Percys! Maurice, who was devoted heart and
soul to this girl; who had been content to love her and wait for her,
through good and evil fortune, through change and absence and silence,
and, after all, she had no feeling for him but this heartless kind of
gratitude! Because at the very last, when he had thought her certainly
his own, he had endured, out of his great love, to see all his hopes
swept away, and her grieving for his rival; therefore he had just so
much claim upon her--"He was so good!"

There was little more said. When once Lucia had told her story, and when
Mrs. Costello had discovered that Maurice understood all, neither of
them cared to talk on the subject. They went to bed with a cloud between
them, after all. Mrs. Costello kept her secret still, and pondered over
the question whether there might yet possibly be hope, since Maurice had
said he had only deferred his wishes, not relinquished them. Lucia was
aware that her trouble was still her own exclusively--not shared by any
one, even her mother. She thought of Percy--she longed to know how long
he had thought of her--how, and why he had changed; and deep down in her
heart there was a little disturbed wondering at Maurice's
tenderness--that very tenderness which Mrs. Costello marvelled she did
not see.

Maurice did not see his cousin that night. He went straight to his room,
and without thinking, locked the door, put out the candles except one,
and sat down in the g