In the old days there had been a sort of antagonism between Bella Latour
and Maurice Leigh. They had necessarily seen a great deal of each other,
and liked each other after a certain fashion; but Maurice had thought
Bella too flighty, and inclined to fastness; and Bella had been
half-seriously, half-playfully disposed to resent his judgment of her.
But now, either because of the complete change in her character which
the last few months had wrought, or from some other cause, Mrs. Morton
and Maurice fell into a kind of confidential intimacy quite new to their
intercourse. It was only for two days, certainly, but during those two
days, and in spite of Maurice's occupations, they had time for several
long and very interesting conversations.
In the first of these, which had begun upon some indifferent subject,
Bella surprised Maurice by alluding, quite calmly and simply, to the
imprisonment of the unfortunate Indian, Lucia's father. He had naturally
supposed that a subject so closely connected with her own misfortunes
would have been too deeply painful to be a permitted one, and had,
therefore, with care, avoided all allusion to it. In this, however, he
did not do her full justice. The truth was, that in her deep interest in
the Costellos, she had quietly forced herself to think and speak of the
whole train of events which affected them, without dwelling on its
connection with her own story. She never spoke of her husband--her
self-command was not yet strong enough for that--nor of Clarkson; but of
Christian, as the victim of a false accusation, she talked to Maurice
without hesitation.
Up to that time there had been no very vivid idea in his mind either of
Christian himself, or of the way in which he had spent the months of his
imprisonment, and finally died. Indeed, in the constant change and
current of nearer interests, he had thought little, after the first,
about this unknown father of his beloved. He had considered the matter
until it led him just so far as to make up his mind, quite easily and
without evidence, that Clarkson was probably the murderer, and that
Christian, whether innocent or guilty, was not to be allowed to separate
him from Lucia, and then, after that point, he ceased to think of
Christian at all. But now, he received from Bella the little details,
such as no letters could have told him, of the weeks since her husband's
death--chiefly of the later ones, and there were many reasons why these
details had a charm for him which made him want to hear more, the more
he heard. In the first place she spoke constantly of Lucia, and it
scarcely needed a lover's fancy to enable him to perceive how in this
time of trial she had been loving, helpful, wise even, beyond what
seemed to belong to the sweet but wilful girl of his recollection. He
listened with new thoughts of her, and a love which had more of respect,
as Bella described those bitter days of which Lucia had told her later,
when neither mother nor daughter dared to believe in the innocence of
the accused man, and when, the one for love, the other for obedience,
they kept their secret safe in their trembling hearts, and tried to go
in and out before the world as if they had no secret to keep.
"Lucia used to come to me every day. I was ill, and her visits were my
great pleasure; she came and talked or read to me, with her mind full
all the while of that horrible idea."
"She knew that it was her father?" asked Maurice. "I wonder Mrs.
Costello, after having kept the truth from Lucia so long, should have
told her all just then."
Bella looked at him inquiringly.
"She had told her before anything of this happened," she answered. "I
believe Lucia herself was the first to suspect that the prisoner was her
father."
"And how did they find out?"
"Mr. Strafford went and visited him."
"Did you ever see him?"
"No. Elise did for a few minutes just before his death; but I have heard
so much about him that I can scarcely persuade myself I never did see
him."
"They were both with him at last?"
"Yes. Poor Lucia never saw him till then."
"Tell me about it, please."
She obeyed, and told all that had happened both within her own knowledge
and at the jail, on the night of Christian's death and the day preceding
it. Her calmness was a little shaken when she had to refer to Clarkson's
confession, though she did so very slightly, but she recovered herself
and went on with her story, simply repeating for the most part what
Lucia and Mrs. Bellairs had told her at the time. When she had finished,
Maurice remained silent. He had shaded his eyes with his hand, and when,
after a minute's pause, he looked up again to ask her another question,
she saw that he had been deeply touched by the picture she had drawn.
But Bella was really doing her friends a double service by thus talking
to Maurice. It was not only that Lucia grew if possible dearer than ever
to him from these conversations, but there was something--though Maurice
himself would not have admitted it--in making Lucia's father an object
of interest and sympathy, instead of leaving him a kind of dark but
inevitable blot on the history of the future bride.
On the evening before Mr. Leigh and his son were to start for England,
as many as possible of their old friends were gathered together at Mr.
Bellairs' for a farewell meeting. Every one there had known the
Costellos; every one remembered how Maurice and Lucia had been
perpetually associated together at all Cacouna parties; every one,
therefore, naturally thought of Lucia, and she was more frequently
spoken of than she had been at all since she left. It seemed also to be
taken for granted that Maurice would see her somewhere before long, and
he was entrusted with innumerable messages both to her and her mother.
"But," he remonstrated, "you forget that I am going to England, and that
they are in France--at least, that it is supposed so."
"Oh! yes," he was answered, "but you will be sure to see them; don't
forget the message when you do."
At last he gave up making any objection, and determined to believe what
everybody said. It was a pleasant augury, at any rate, and he was glad
to accept it for a true one.
When all the visitors were gone, and the household had retired for the
night, Mr. Bellairs and his former pupil sat together over the
drawing-room fire for one last chat. Their talk wandered over all sorts
of subjects--small incidents of law business--the prospects of some
Cacouna men who had gone to British Columbia--the voyage to England--the
position of Hunsdon--and Maurice had been persuading his host to come
over next summer for a holiday, when by some chance Percy was alluded
to.
"You have not seen or heard anything of him, I suppose?" Mr. Bellairs
asked.
"Yes, indeed, I have," Maurice answered, slowly stirring the poker about
in the ashes as he spoke. "I met him only the other day in London."
"Met him? Where?"
"On a doorstep----," and he proceeded to describe their meeting.
"I suppose you have heard of his marriage by this time."
"No. I heard from Edward Graham, an old friend of mine, that he was
going to be married, but that is the latest news I have of him."
"Oh, well, Payne may have made a mistake. He told me it was coming off
in a day or two."
"As likely as not. He might not think it worth while to send us any
notice."
"The puppy! I beg your pardon, I forgot he was your cousin."
"You need not apologise on that score. There is not much love lost
between us; and as for Elise, I never knew her inclined to be
inhospitable to anybody but him."
"Was she to him?"
"She was heartily glad to see the last of him, and so I suspect were
some other people."
"What people?"
"Mrs. Costello for one. He was more at the Cottage than she seemed to
like."
Maurice hesitated, but could not resist asking a question.
"Was he as much there afterwards as he was before the time I left?"
"More, I think. Look here, Maurice; Elise first put it into my head that
he was running after Lucia, but I saw it plainly enough myself
afterwards, and I know you saw it too. I think we are old enough friends
for me to speak to you on such a subject. Well, my belief is, that
before Percy went away, he proposed to Lucia."
"Proposed? Impossible!"
"I don't know about that. He was really in love with her in his
fashion--which is not yours, or mine."
"And she?"
"Must have refused him, for he went away in a kind of amazed ruefulness,
which even you would have pitied."
Maurice looked the reverse of pitiful for a moment.
"But that is all supposition," he said.
"Granted. But a supposition founded on pretty close observation. Only
mind, I do not say Lucia might not be a little sorry herself. You were
away, and a girl does not lose a handsome fellow like Percy, who has
been following her about everywhere as if he were her pet dog, without
feeling the loss more or less. At least that is my idea."
"He has soon consoled himself."
"My dear fellow, everybody can't step into possession of £10,000 a year
all at once. Most people have to do something for a living, and the only
thing Percy could do was to marry."
They said good-night soon after this, and went upstairs, Maurice
blessing the Fates which seemed determined to give him all possible hope
and encouragement. Only he could not quite understand this idea of Mr.
Bellairs'. He could imagine anybody, even Percy, being so far carried
away by Lucia's beauty as to forget prudence for the moment; but he
could not help but feel that it was improbable that Percy would have
gone so far as to propose to Lucia unless he were sure she would say
yes. Why, then, had she not said yes?
Next morning the last farewells had to be said--the last look taken at
the old home. Night found father and son far on their way to New York,
and Maurice's eagerness all renewed by this fresh start upon his quest.
There was little of novelty in the journey or the voyage. There were the
usual incidents of winter travelling--the hot, stifling car--the snowy
country stretching out mile after mile from morning till night--the
hotels, which seemed strangely comfortless for an invalid--and then the
great city with its noise and bustle, and the steamer where they had
nothing to do but to wait.
And, at last, there was England. There was the Mersey and Liverpool,
looking, as they came in, much as if the accumulated dirt of the three
kingdoms had been bestowed there, but brightening up into a different
aspect when they had fairly landed and left the docks behind them. For
it was a lovely March day--only the second or third of the month it is
true,--and winter, which they had left in full possession in Canada,
seemed to be over here, and the warm sunny air so invigorated Mr. Leigh
that he would not hear Maurice's proposal to rest until next day, but
insisted on setting out at once for Norfolk.
As they drove to the railway they passed the jeweller's shop where
Maurice had bought Lucia's ring. Alas! it still lay in his pocket, where
he had carried it ever since that day--when would it find its
destination? He was not going to be disheartened now, however. He was
glad of the little disturbance to his thoughts of having to take tickets
and see his father comfortably placed, and at the very last moment he
was just able to seize upon a _Times_, and set himself to reading it as
if he had never been out of England.