d written
after receiving news from home, and it contained an enclosure to Mrs.
Costello, which Lucia wondered her mother did not show her. But she
would have wondered more, perhaps, if she had known why, in spite of the
easily-read wistfulness in her glance, that note was so carefully
withheld from her. It alluded, in fact, too plainly to the conversation
in which, for the first time, Maurice had, just before going away,
spoken to Mrs. Costello of herself and his affection for her. He said
now, "My father has sent me an account of Miss Latour's wedding, which
he said he made Lucia describe to him for my benefit. But I have a
curiosity to hear more about it, or rather about her. To tell the truth,
I am longing for a letter from you, not only to bring me news of my
father, but to satisfy me that all my hopes are not being built upon an
impossibility. Is Percy still at Cacouna? Don't laugh at me. My
occupations here leave me plenty of time to think of you all, and I
depend upon you not to let me be left quite in the dark on the subject
to which I cannot help giving most of my thoughts."

Mrs. Costello smiled to herself as she read; but she put off Lucia's
questioning with a very unfaithful summary of the contents of the note.
It was certainly strange how much vague comfort she took in the
knowledge of Maurice's love for her child. It might have seemed that the
same causes which had parted Lucia from Percy, and which she had said
would part her from the whole world, would be just as powerful here; but
the mother had at the bottom of her heart a kind of child-like
confidence that somehow, some time, all must come right, and in the
meantime she loved Maurice heartily, and wished for this happy
consummation almost as much for his sake as for her daughter's.

CHAPTER II.

There was a good deal of difference in the aspect of the country above
and below Cacouna. Below it the river bank was high; and cultivated and
fertile lands stretched back for a mile or two, till they were bordered
and shut in by the forest. Above, the bank was low. Just beyond the town
lay the swamp, which brought ague to the Parsonage and its neighbours.
On the further side of this was the steam sawmill, and a few shanties
occupied by workmen; and higher still, a road (called the Lake Shore
Road, because, after a few miles, it joined and ran along the side of
the lake) wound its way over a sandy plain, studded with clumps and
knots of scattered t