erything he can reasonably wish
for--and more."

She held out her hand to say good-bye, feeling a strong desire to get
away, and escape from a conversation which was becoming embarrassing.
Mr. Leigh took it and for one second held it, as if he wished to say
something more, but the feeling that he had really no ground but his own
surmises for judging of Maurice's relations with either Lucia or her
mother, checked him.

Mrs. Costello hurried home. She knew as well as if he had said so, that
her old friend guessed his son's attachment and was ready to sanction
it; she could easily understand the generous impulse which would have
urged him to offer to her and her child all the support and comfort
which an engagement between the two young people could be made to
afford; but she would not even trust herself to consider for a moment
the possibility of accepting a consolation which would cost the giver so
dear. Maurice, she felt, ought to marry an English-woman, his mother's
equal; and no doubt if he and Lucia could be kept completely apart for
two or three years, he would do so without reluctance; only nothing must
be said about the matter either by Mr. Leigh or to Lucia. As for her
daughter, the very circumstance which had formerly seemed most
unfavourable to her wishes was now her great comfort; she rejoiced in
the certainty that Lucia had never suspected the true nature or degree
of Maurice's regard. It was in this respect not to be much regretted
that Lucia still thought faithfully of Percy--not at all as of one who
might yet have any renewed connection with her life, but as of one dead.
The poor child, in spite of her premature womanliness, was full of
romantic fancies; while Percy was near her she had made him a hero; now
since his disappearance, she had found it natural enough to build him a
temple and put in it the statue of a god. And it was better that she
should mourn over a dead love, than that she should a second time be
tormented by useless hopes and fears.

That afternoon Mrs. Costello and Lucia went together into Cacouna,
taking with them some small comforts for the invalid, but Lucia was not
yet permitted to see him. She parted from her mother at the prison
door, and went to pay a visit to Mrs. Bellairs and Bella, the last time
she was ever likely to see them on the old frank and intimate footing.
Even now, indeed, the intimacy had lost much of its charm. She loved
them both more than ever, but the miserabl