with common fortitude, for it was simply a conquest of self,
gained without thought or conscious effort, by the greater power of
love. But such contests cannot last long. This was fierce and cruel, but
it ended as love willed. The poor child dragged herself up again to her
mother's knee, and drew the pale, fair face down to her own flushed and
burning one; but one kiss, silent and full of anguish, was all that she
dared venture yet. But she longed to hear more, and presently Mrs.
Costello spoke again, not daring yet to go back to the point of which
they had last spoken, but returning to the subject of their journey.

"The steamer calls at Southampton," she said. "I intend to write to
George, and tell him the time of our sailing, so that, if he wishes, he
can meet us there. We will go from Havre to Paris, and stay there for
awhile; afterwards, I think we should be more comfortable in a country
town, if we can find one not too inaccessible."

There was something in this sentence peculiarly reassuring. Lucia
instinctively reasoned that, since her mother could make plans for their
future so far in advance, the danger of which she had just spoken must
be remote. What is remote, we readily believe uncertain; and thus, after
a few minutes of absolute hopelessness, she began to hope again,
tremblingly and fearfully, but still with more ardour than if the
previous alarm had been less complete.

"Dear mamma," she said, "Doctor Hardy may be very clever, but I am not
going to put any faith in him. When we get to Paris you must have the
very best advice that is to be had, and you will have nothing to do but
take care of yourself."

"Very well," and Mrs. Costello smiled, reading the hope clearly enough,
though she had not fully read the despair. "And in the meantime you may
hear what I want to say to you about my cousin."

"Yes, mamma. But you know I don't like him, all the same. I know I
should have hated him just as you did when you were a girl."

"I hope not. At any rate, you must not hate him now, for I have asked
him to be your guardian, and he has consented."

Lucia shuddered at that word "guardian," and the thought implied in it,
but she determined to say no more about her prejudice against Mr.
Wynter.

"You know," Mrs. Costello said, "that it would be much more comfortable
for me to know that you were left in the care of my own people than with
any one else. It will be three years before you are of age. To suppose
t