England that a
chance expression informed Maurice that his dangerous rival was gone
away, without giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he had been
dismissed and was not likely to return. The same mail which brought
this half intelligence, brought also a letter from Mrs. Costello, which
spoke of her own and Lucia's removal as a thing quite settled, though
not immediate, and left the place of their destination altogether
uncertain. These letters threw Maurice into a condition of discomfort
and impatience, which he found hard to bear. He was extremely uneasy at
the idea of his father being left without companion or nurse. This
uneasiness formed, as it were, the background of his thoughts, while a
variety of less reasonable, but more vivid, anxieties held a complete
revel in the foreground. He had not even his old refuge against
troublesome fancies; for work, real absorbing work, of any kind was out
of the question now. His attendance on his grandfather, though often
fatiguing enough, was no occupation for his masculine brain. If he had
been a woman, he would have had a far better chance of imprisoning his
mind as well as his body, in that sober, undisturbed, sick room; but
though he could be almost as tender as a woman, he could not school
himself into that strange kind of feminine patience, which even Lucia,
spoiled child as she was, instinctively practised and grew strong in,
while she tended his father.

He found himself perpetually losing the thread of some relation or
dissertation which was intended for his benefit, and that of Hunsdon
under his rule; he ran serious risk of displeasing Mr. Beresford, and
finally he became so weary of thinking incessantly of one subject, but
never speaking of it, that he made up his mind to take his cousin to
some degree into his confidence. To some degree only--it could be a very
small degree indeed, according to his ideas, for he could not tell her
all, even of the little he knew, about the Costellos, and he had no
intention of speaking much about Lucia, only mentioning her as an old
playfellow of his sister's; quite forgetting that he would have either
to change his own nature, or to dull Lady Dighton's ears and eyes,
before he could talk of _her_, and not betray himself.

But a good opportunity for this confidence seemed hard to find, and
whenever one did really occur Maurice let it slip, so that time passed
on, and nothing was said; until at last, a new trouble came, so he