hat you may need a guardian, therefore, is neither improbable nor
alarming; and my reason for proposing to settle in France is, that you
may be within a short distance of him."
Lucia could only assent.
"I shall try," her mother continued, "to persuade him to pay us a visit
there, and to bring his wife, who is a good woman, and I am sure would
be kind to my child. I long very much, Lucia, sometimes, to know that,
though I can never see the dear old home again, you may do so."
"Have they any children?" Lucia asked, her thoughts dwelling on the
Wynters.
"They have lost several, George told me. There are three living, and the
eldest, I think, is about your age."
They had talked themselves quite calm now. The idea of her own death had
only troubled Mrs. Costello with regard to Lucia; and now that she was
in some measure prepared for it, it seemed even less terrible than
before. Lucia, for her part, had put by all consideration of the subject
for the present; to think of it without agonies of distress was
impossible, and at present to agitate herself would be to agitate her
mother--a thing at any cost of after-suffering to be avoided.
CHAPTER XX.
Next morning Mrs. Costello and Lucia prepared to return to the Cottage.
They were to remain there till the following evening, and then Mr.
Bellairs proposed to drive them down to the first village below Cacouna
at which the steamboats called, that they might there embark for Moose
Island, instead of being obliged to do so at the Cacouna wharf, where
they were certain to meet inquisitive acquaintances. But a short time
before they were to leave their friends, Doctor Hardy called.
He asked to see Mrs. Costello, and was taken into the small room where
Mrs. Bellairs usually passed her mornings. No one else was present, and
he told her at once that he had called to ask her assistance in an
affair which he feared would be painful to her.
She smiled gravely. "I am too grateful to you, doctor," she said, "not
to be pleased that you should have anything to ask."
"I don't know," he went on, "whether Mr. Bellairs has told you the
details of Clarkson's death--I mean as to what appeared to influence him
in making his confession?"
"No," she answered, rather wondering what this could have to do with
her.
"I think," the doctor proceeded, "that for all his brutality in other
respects, Clarkson was a good husband, and as fond of his wife and
children as if he had bee
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