emed to have been wrought! The little home seemed
pleasanter than ever, and for a moment Mrs. Costello asked herself if it
was really necessary that they should leave it? But clearly, if not
_necessary_, it was best. It was best, probably, that Lucia and Maurice
should not meet again, and certainly that Lucia should be placed within
reach of her future guardians. But Mrs. Costello sighed over her plan.

CHAPTER XXII.

Mr. Bellairs came, according to his promise, and drove Mrs. Costello and
Lucia to Fairfield, where they were to take the boat for Moose Island.
It was a distance of about five miles; and as they glided along rapidly
and smoothly, Lucia remembered with a sigh that this was probably the
last sleigh drive of any length that she would have before leaving
Canada. Perhaps it was not right, considering what the object of their
present journey was, that she should be at liberty to have any such
thoughts; it might have been more decorous if she had been absorbed by
the grave and sombre ideas which the occasion demanded; but Lucia was at
heart too frank and natural to try to force upon herself the
affectation of a grief she did not feel. It had come into her heart,
while Christian was slowly wearing out the last days of his unhappy
life, to care for him as her father, to be deeply sorry for him, and to
desire to comfort him; but now that his sufferings were over, she
honestly thought that there was no further reason for grieving on his
account. She was sad, however, for very simple and childish reasons; and
this idea that it was her last sleigh drive actually brought tears into
her eyes. Everything was so lovely! The road along which they passed lay
like a broad white line between the dark woods and the river. The sun,
setting over the opposite shore, brought out millions of sparkling
points brighter than diamonds on the surface of the snow, and the
gorgeous colours of the sky, deeper and more vivid even than in summer,
filled her heart with an inexpressible and ever-changing delight. That
wonderful union of spotless purity and glorious colour seemed almost
supernatural--as if it needed but for men's eyes to be opened that they
might see plainly the city of "pure gold like unto clear glass" which
stood upon those many-hued foundations, and the forms with garments
white as snow which might come down and walk unsullied over the
white-robed earth. But to see all this loveliness for the last time! To
enjoy for