laid her head on her mother's lap.

"Talk to me, mamma. Talk about England."

An old, old theme. Mother and daughter had talked about England, the
far-away Mother Land, many many hours full of pleasure to both; to one
the subject had all the enchantment of a fairy tale, to the other of the
tenderest and sweetest recollections. Lucia had heard, over and over
again, each detail of the landscape, each incident in the history, of
her mother's birthplace; she knew the gentle invalid mistress and the
kind stern master, her grandfather and grandmother; she had loved to
gather into her garden the flowers which had grown about the grey walls
of the old house by the Dee; the one wish she had cherished from a child
was to see with living eyes all that was so familiar to her fancy. But
to-day, though she said, "Talk about England," it was not of all this
she wished to hear; and an instinctive feeling that it was not, kept
Mrs. Costello from speaking. She laid her hand gently upon her child's
head and remained silent. Lucia was silent, also. She wanted her mother
to talk, yet hesitated to ask her the questions she wanted answered. At
last she said abruptly,

"Mamma, did you _ever_ gossip?"

Mrs. Costello laughed.

"Do you think I never do now, then? I am afraid I cannot say as much for
myself."

"I never hear you. But when you were a girl, you must have heard things
about people."

"No doubt I did. And I suppose that, as I lived in almost as quiet a
neighbourhood as this, I must have been curious and interested about a
new-comer, much as you are."

Lucia turned her head a little, and smiled to herself.

"And then?" she said.

"Then most likely I asked questions, and found out all I could about the
new-comer, which, I suppose, you have been doing about Mr. Percy. Bella
Latour ought to be a good authority."

"I have not asked any questions. I thought perhaps you might know
something about him, or at least about his family."

"About him I certainly know nothing. It is twenty years since I left
England, and he would then be only a child. His father I have seen two
or three times. Mr. Percy resembles him extremely."

"Was he a handsome man, then?"

"Very handsome. And Lady Lastingham was said to be a most beautiful
woman."

"You never saw her?"

"No, she died young. Lord Lastingham married her, as people said, for
love; that is to say, her great beauty tempted him. They were very poor,
and he was not of a character