at present even no balls--the only public
amusement of the population seemed to be listening in the still evenings
to the band which played in front of the guard-house in the Place. There
they came in throngs, and promenaded slowly over the sharp-edged stones,
with a keen and visible enjoyment of the fresh air, the music, and each
other's company, which was in itself a pleasant thing to see.

The journey, the discomforts of the first few days, and the second
moving, had tried Mrs. Costello extremely. She spent most of her time on
the sofa now, and had as yet only been able once or twice to go down and
sit for a while on the sunny beach, where children were playing and
building sand castles, and where the sea breeze was sweet and reviving.

There was a small colony of English people settled in the town, mostly
people with small incomes and many children, or widows of poor
gentlemen; but there was also a large floating population of English
sailors, and for their benefit an English consul and chaplain, who
supplied a temporal and spiritual leader to the community. But the
mother and daughter kept much apart from their country people, who were
inclined to be sociable and friendly towards them. Mrs. Costello's
illness, and Lucia's preoccupation, made them receive with indifference
the visits of those who, after seeing them at the little English church,
and by the sea, thought it "only neighbourly to call."

Their home arrangements were different to those they had made in Paris.
Here they were really lodgers, and their landlady, Madame Everaert,
waited on them. She was a fat, good natured, half Dutch widow, who took
from the first a lively interest in the invalid mother, and in the
daughter who would have been so handsome if she had been stouter and
more rosy; and in a very little while she found that her new lodgers
had one quality, which above all others gave them a claim on her good
will, they were excellent listeners. Almost every evening in the
twilight she would come herself to their sitting-room, with the lamp, or
with some other errand for an excuse, and would stay chattering in her
droll Flemish French for at least half an hour. This came to be one of
the features of the day. Another was a daily walk, which Lucia had most
frequently to take alone, but which always gave her either from the
shore, or from the ramparts, a long sorrowful look over the sea towards
England--towards Canada perhaps--or instead of either, t