t."

Maurice walked to the window and sighed impatiently.

"A pleasant prospect!" he said, "They may be at the other end of Europe
before I can get back."

He stood for a minute looking out, and tapping impatiently with his
fingers on the window-sill, while Mr. Leigh watched him, troubled, and a
little inclined to be angry. When he turned round again he had made up
his mind that it was no use to get out of temper, a pretty sure proof
that he was so already, and that the first thing to do was to find out
exactly what his father and everybody else knew about the Costellos. He
sat down, accordingly, with a sort of desperate impatient patience, and
began a cross-examination.

"Did they leave no message for me?"

"Nothing in particular. All sorts of kind remembrances; Lucia said you
would be sure to meet some day."

"Did they never speak of seeing you in England?"

"Never. On the contrary, my impression is that they had no intention of
going to England."

"That is strange; yet if they had they would scarcely have gone by
Havre, unless to avoid all chance of meeting me."

"Why should they do that?"

Maurice said nothing, he only changed his position and looked at his
father. Mr. Leigh had asked the question suddenly, with the first dawn
of a new idea in his mind, but at his son's silent answer he shrank back
in his chair breathless with dismay. So after all he _had_ been a
traitor! With his mistaken fancies about change and absence, he had been
doing all he could to destroy the very scheme that was dearest to him,
and which he now saw was dearest to Maurice also. And he knew now that
there had been something in Mrs. Costello's manner lately less friendly
to Maurice than was usual. He had done mischief which might be
irreparable. Guilty and miserable, he naturally began to defend himself.

"If you had only told me!" he said feebly.

"I had nothing to tell, sir. I went away, as you remember, almost at a
moment's notice, to please you and my grandfather. I could not speak to
Lucia then, because--for various reasons; but I know that Mrs. Costello
was my friend. Afterwards she wrote to me when poor Morton was killed,
and told me some story I could not very well make out, but which of
course made no difference to me. Then came another letter with all the
truth about her marriage, which she seemed to think conclusive, and
which wound up by saying that she meant to take Lucia away--hide her
from me in fact. My grandfat