t
been paid, and she could not help wondering whether he stayed away
because he was offended with her last night; whether he would come yet,
whether he had heard what Mrs. Bellairs had said, or what she answered;
and while she wondered, her attention grew so engrossed that she did not
hear when her mother spoke to her, until the words had been twice
repeated.

Mrs. Costello, at last, touched her arm.

"Are you asleep, Lucia?" she said. "I have spoken to you two or three
times already."

"Have you, mamma? I am very sorry. I believe I was half asleep."

"You should have a walk. You have not been further than Mr. Leigh's all
day."

"I do not wish to go. I am quite content here, and I will not go to
sleep again. Tell me what you were going to say?"

"Something of so little consequence that I have forgotten it. But do go,
like a good child, and have a little walk. You must go to-morrow to see
Mrs. Bellairs, but to-day I dare say she is glad to be quiet."

Lucia went reluctantly, put on her hat, and started. She was so
accustomed to walking alone that she never thought of objecting on that
score, and turned, without deliberation, along the road that led to
Cacouna. It was a very quiet country road, running along the course of
the river; sometimes quite close to the bank, sometimes, as at the
Cottage, leaving room for a house and garden. The bank itself was high
and generally precipitous, but in some places it sloped more gradually
and was covered with soft turf. On the opposite, or American side, the
land was lower, and a little of town which lay almost opposite to
Cacouna was girdled in on all sides by pine-woods, the tops of which
showed like a black fringe against the brilliant light and colour of the
sunset sky. This contrast of brightness and darkness in the distance,
was heightened by the fainter, but still vivid gleam of the water, as
the river, stretching away in an unbroken sheet more than half a mile in
width, caught and reflected the changing colours of the clouds. This
view, which she had seen daily ever since she could remember, seemed
always to possess a new charm for Lucia; whatever might be her humour,
it was certain to subside into the same calm and almost reverent
attention while she watched the scene reach its most perfect splendour,
and then fade softly and gradually into night.

But; at present, it wanted at least half an hour of sunset. There was
plenty of time for her walk before the short twi