Book: A Canadian Heroine

M >> Mrs. Harry Coghill >> A Canadian Heroine




But very soon it grew too dark to work. The Place was lighted, and alive
with people passing to and fro. The windows of the guard house opposite
were brilliant, and from those of a cafe on the same side as Madame
Everaert's there shone out, half across the square, a broad line of
light. In this way, at two places, the figures of those who moved about
the pavement on each side of the Place, were very plainly visible; even
the faces of some could be distinguished. Lucia watched these people
to-night with a new interest. Every time the strong glare fell upon a
shabby slouching figure, or on a poorly dressed man who wanted the air
of being a Frenchman, she thought, "Is that Bailey?" When the lamp came
in, Mrs. Costello had fallen asleep, so Lucia turned it down low, and
still sat at the window. The light on the tower shone out clear and
bright--above it the stars looked pale, but the sky was perfectly
serene. Maurice, if he came soon, had every prospect of a fair passage.
"And he will come," she thought to herself, "even if he is really too
much vexed with me to forgive me, he will come for mamma's sake."

All next day they both kept indoors. Lucia tried to persuade her mother
to drive out into the country, but even for this Mrs. Costello had not
courage. At the same time she seemed to be losing all sense of security
in the house. She fancied she had not sufficiently impressed on Father
Paul the importance of not betraying her in any way to Bailey. She
wished to write and remind him of this, but she dared not lest her note
should fall into wrong hands. Then she thought of asking him to visit
her, but hesitated also about that till it was too late. In short, was
in a perfectly unreasonable and incapable condition--fear had taken such
hold of her in her weak state of health that Lucia began to think it
would end in nervous fever. With her the dread of Bailey began to be
quite lost in apprehension for her mother, and her own affairs had to
be put altogether on one side to make room for these new anxieties.

In the afternoon of that day Mrs. Costello suddenly roused herself from
a fit of thought.

"We must go somewhere," she said. "That is certain, whatever else is. As
soon as Maurice comes we ought to be prepared to start. Do go, Lucia,
and see if there is any packing you can do--without attracting
attention, you know."

"But, mamma," Lucia objected, "Maurice cannot be here to-day, nor even,
I believe, to-morrow, at the very soonest, and I will soon do what there
is to do."

"There is a great deal. And I can't help you, my poor child. And there
ought not to be a moment's unnecessary delay."

Lucia had to yield. She began to pack as if all their arrangements were
made, though they had no idea either when, or to what end, their
wanderings would recommence, nor were able to give a hint to those about
them of their intended departure.

Another restless night passed, and another day began. There was the
faintest possibility, they calculated, that Maurice, if he started as
soon as he received Lucia's note, might reach them late at night.

It was but the shadow of a chance, for Hunsdon, as they knew, lay at
some distance from either post-office or railway station, and the letter
might not reach him till this very morning. Yet, since he _might_ come,
they must do all they could to be ready. The day was very hot. All the
windows were open, and the shutters closed; a drowsy heat and stillness
filled the rooms. Mrs. Costello walked about perpetually. She had tried
to help Lucia, but had been obliged to leave off and content herself
with gathering up, here and there, the things that were in daily use,
and bringing them to Lucia to put away. They said very little to each
other. Mrs. Costello could think of nothing but Bailey, and she did not
dare to talk about him from some fanciful fear of being overheard. Lucia
thought of her mother's health and of Maurice, and Mrs. Costello had no
attention to spare for either.

Suddenly, sounding very loud in the stillness, there came the roll of a
carriage over the rough stones of the Place. It stopped; there was a
moment's pause, and then a hasty ring at the door-bell. Both mother and
daughter paused and listened. There was a quick movement downstairs--a
foot which was swifter and lighter than Madame Everaert's on the
staircase--and Maurice at the sitting-room door.

Mrs. Costello went forward from the doorway where she had been arrested
by the sound of his coming; Lucia, kneeling before a trunk in the
adjoining room, saw him standing there, and sprang to her feet; he came
in glad, eager, impatient to know what they wanted of him; and before
any of them had time to think about it, this meeting, so much desired
and dreaded, was over.

"But how could you come so soon?" Mrs. Costello asked. "We did not
expect you till to-morrow."

"By the greatest chance. I had been in town for two days. Our station
and post-office are at the same place. When they met me at the station,
they brought me letters which had just arrived, and yours was among
them. So I was able to catch the next train back to London, instead of
going home."

"And which way did you come? The boat is not in yet?"

"By Calais. It was quicker. Now tell me what has happened."

Mrs. Costello looked carefully to see that the door was shut. Then she
told Maurice who and what she feared, and how she could not even leave
Bourg-Cailloux without help.

"Yet, I think I ought to leave," she said.

"Of course you ought," Maurice answered. "You must go to England."




CHAPTER XXIII.


"You must go to England," Maurice said decidedly. "It is an easy
journey, and you would be quite safe there."

"But I ought not to go to England," Mrs. Costello answered rather
uncertainly. "And Bailey might follow us there."

"I doubt that. By what you say, too, if he were in England, we might
perhaps set the police to watch him, which would prevent his annoying
you. However, the thing to do is to carry you off before he has any idea
you are in Europe at all."

Lucia stayed long enough to see that the mere presence of Maurice
inspired her mother with fresh courage; then she went back to her
packing, leaving the door ajar that she might hear their voices. She
went on with her work in a strange tumult and confusion. Not a word
beyond the first greetings had passed between Maurice and herself, but
she could not help feeling as if their positions were somehow
changed--and not for the worse.

There had been no words; but just for one second Maurice had held her
hand and looked at her very earnestly; whereupon she had felt her cheeks
grow very hot, and her eyes go down to the ground as if she were making
some confession.

After that he released her, and she went about her occupations. She
began to wonder now whether she would have to tell him how sorry she
was, or whether enough had been said; and to incline to the last
opinion.

Meanwhile she went on busily. In about half an hour she heard Maurice go
out, and then Mrs. Costello came to her.

"He is gone to make inquiries," she said; "you know there is a boat
to-night, but then we may not be able to get berths."

"To-night, mamma, for England?"

Mrs. Costello looked a little displeased at Lucia's surprise, "To be
sure," she said; "why, my dear child, you yourself thought England
would be the best place."

"I did _think_ so certainly, but I did not know I had said it."

"Well, can we be ready?"

"I can finish packing in an hour, but there is Madame Everaert to
arrange with."

"We must wait till Maurice comes back before doing that."

"I suppose we must; mamma, will you please go and lie down? Otherwise
you will not be able to go."

Mrs. Costello smiled. She felt able for any exertion to escape from her
enemy under Maurice's guidance. However, she did as her daughter wished,
and lay quietly waiting for his coming back.

Lucia heard his steps first, notwithstanding. She had her last trunk
just ready for locking, and went into the sitting-room to hear the
decision, with her hair a little disordered and a bright flush of
excitement and fatigue on her cheeks.

"Are we to go?" she said quickly.

"I think you should if you can," he answered her. "But can you be
ready?"

"By what time?"

"Nine o'clock."

"Everything is packed. Half an hour is all we really need now."

"Three hours to spare then. Everything is in our favour. It is not a bad
boat, and there is room for us on board."

"Have you taken berths then?" Mrs. Costello asked.

"Yes. And I will tell you why I did so without waiting to consult you. I
made some inquiries about this fellow Bailey, and found out that it
would most likely not suit him to go to England for some time to come."

"You inquired about him? Good heavens, what a risk!"

"You forget, dear Mrs. Costello, that I was meant for a lawyer. Don't be
afraid. He has no more thought of you than of the Khan of Tartary."

"If you only knew the comfort it is having you, Maurice; I was quite
helpless, quite upset by this last terror."

"But you had been ill, mamma," Lucia interposed. "It was no wonder you
were upset."

"That is not kind, Lucia," Maurice said, turning to her with a half
smile. "Mrs. Costello wishes to make me believe she depends on me, and
you try to take away the flattering impression."

"Oh! no; I did not mean that. Mamma knows--" but there she got into
confusion and stopped.

"Well," Mrs. Costello said, "we had better send for Madame Everaert, and
tell her we are going."

Madame came. She was desolated, but had nothing to say against the
departure of her lodgers, and, as Lucia had told Maurice, half an hour
was enough for the settling of their last affairs at Bourg-Cailloux.

Mrs. Costello did not wish to go on board the boat till near the hour
named for sailing; it was well, too, that she should have as much rest
as possible before her journey. She kept on her sofa, therefore, where
so large a portion of her time lately had been spent; and Lucia, from
habit, took her seat by the window.

Then in the quiet twilight arose the question, "Where are we to go when
we reach England?"

"Where?" Maurice said, "why, to Hunsdon, of course. My father will be so
pleased--and Louisa will come rushing over in ecstasies the moment she
hears."

"That might be all very well," Mrs. Costello said, "if we were only
coming to England as visitors, but since we are not, I shall wish to
find a place were we can settle as quickly as possible. I should
certainly like it to be within reach of Hunsdon, if we can manage it."

"Come to Hunsdon first, at any rate, and look out."

"I think not, Maurice. We might stay in London for a week or two."

"Well, if you _prefer_ it. But, at all events, I know perfectly well
that one week of London will be as much as either of you can bear. When
you have had that, I shall try again to persuade you."

While they talked, Lucia sat looking out. For the last time she saw the
Place grow dusky, and then flame out with gas--for the last time she
watched the lighting of the beacon, and wondered how far on their way
they would be able to see it still.

Eight o'clock struck; then a quarter past, and it was time to go.

The boat lay in the dock. On board, a faint light gleamed out from the
cabin-door, but everything on shore was dark. Passengers were arriving
each moment, and their luggage stood piled up ready to be embarked.
Sailors were talking or shouting to each other in English and French;
the cargo of fruit and vegetables was still being stowed away, and
people were running against other people in the darkness, and trying
vainly to discover their own trunks on the deck, or their own berths in
the cabin. Into the midst of all this confusion Maurice brought his
charges; but as he had been on board in the afternoon, he knew where to
take them, and they found their own quarters without difficulty. While
he saw to their packages, they made their arrangements for the night.

"I shall lie down at once," Mrs. Costello said. "It is not uncomfortable
here, and I think it is always best."

"But it is so early, and on deck the air is so pleasant. Should you mind
my leaving you for a little while?"

"Not at all. There is no reason why you should stay down here if you
dislike it. Maurice will take care of you."

But Lucia had no intention of waiting for Maurice. She saw her mother
comfortably settled, and then stole up alone to the deck. The boat had
not yet started; it seemed to lie in the very shadow of the quaint old
town, and Lucia could trace the outline of the buildings against the
starry sky.

She felt a little soft sensation of regret at saying good-bye to this
last corner of France. 'And yet,' she thought, 'I have been very unhappy
here. I wonder if England will be happier?'

She stood leaning against the bulwarks, looking now at the town, now at
the dark glimmer of the water below, and, to tell the truth, beginning
to wonder where Maurice was. While she wondered, he came up to her and
spoke.

"Lucia, it _is_ you then? I thought you would not be able to stay
below."

"No. It is so hot. Here the night is lovely."

"The deck is tolerably clear now. Come and walk up and down a
little--unless you are tired?"

"I am tired, but to walk will rest me."

As she turned he took her hand and put it through his arm. For a minute
they were silent.

"Two days ago, Lucia," Maurice said "I thought this was an
impossibility."

"What!"

"Our being together--as we are now."

"Did you? But you had promised to come if ever we were in trouble."

"Yes. And I meant to keep my word. But I fancied you would never send
for me."

"You see," Lucia said, trying to speak lightly, "that we had no other
friend to send for."

"Is that so? Was that the only reason?"

"Maurice!"

"Tell me something, Lucia. Did you mean the last sentence of your note?"

"What was it?"

"You said you were unhappy."

"Oh! yes, I was. _So_ unhappy--I was thinking of it just now."

"And at present? Are you unhappy still?"

"You know I am not."

"I have been miserable, too, lately. Horribly miserable. I was ready to
do I can't tell you what absurdities. Until your note came."

He stopped a moment, but she had nothing to say.

"It is a great comfort to have got so far," he went on, "but I suppose
one is never satisfied. Now that I am not quite miserable, I should like
to be quite happy."

Lucia could not help laughing, though she did so a little nervously.

"Don't be unreasonable," she said.

"But I am. I must needs put it to the touch again. Lucia, you know what
I want to say; can't you forget the past, and come home to Hunsdon and
be my wife?"

They stood still side by side, in the starry darkness and neither of
them knew very well for a few minutes what they said. Only Maurice
understood that the object of his life was gained; and Lucia felt that
from henceforth, for ever, she would never be perverse, or passionate,
or wilful again, for Maurice had forgiven her, and loved her still.

They never noticed that the boat was delayed beyond its time, and that
other passengers chafed at the delay. They stayed on deck in the
starlight, and said little to each other, but they both felt that a new
life had begun--a life which seemed to be grafted on the old one before
their troubles, and to have nothing to do with this last year. When
Maurice was about to say good-night at the cabin door, he made the first
allusion to what had brought them together.

"I shall pension Bailey," he said. "His last good deed blots out all his
misdoings."

"What good deed?"

"Frightening you."

"He did not frighten me."

"Frightening Mrs. Costello then. It comes to the same thing in the end.
But why did not you send for your cousin, Mr. Wynter?"

"Ask mamma."

"I have something more interesting to ask her."

Mrs. Costello knew tolerably well, when Lucia kissed her that night,
what had happened. She said nothing audibly, but in her heart there was
a _Nunc Dimittis_ sung thankfully; and in spite of the sea, she fell
asleep over it. The night was as calm as it could be, and Maurice, who
had no inclination for sleep or for the presence of the crowd below,
spent most of it on deck. Towards morning he went down; but at seven
o'clock, when Lucia peeped out, he was up again and waiting for her. She
only gave him a little nod and smile, however, and then retreated, but
presently came back with her mother.

They got chairs and sat watching the coast, which was quickly coming
nearer, and the vessels which they passed lying out in the still
waters.

"We shall be in in two hours," Maurice said, "though we were late
starting. The captain says he has not had such a good run this year."

"For which I am very thankful," Mrs. Costello answered.

"What a mercy it is to have got away so easily; it was well we sent to
you, Maurice."

"Very well; the best thing that ever was done. Lucia and I agreed as to
that last night."

Lucia pouted the very least in the world, and her mother smiled.

"It seems to me you took a long while to settle the question. I thought
she was never coming."

"Why, mamma? I came as soon as the boat started."

"We have settled our differences," Maurice said, leaning down to speak
quietly to Mrs. Costello. "Do you give us leave to make our own
arrangements for the future?"

"I think you are pretty sure of my leave."

"Then we all go straight on to Hunsdon together?"

"Are those your arrangements?"

"Not mine, certainly," Lucia interposed. "I thought we were to stay in
London."

"But why?"

"Don't you see," Mrs. Costello asked, "that any little compact you two
children may have made has nothing to do with the necessity of my
finding a house for myself and my daughter--as long as she is only my
daughter."

Maurice had to give way a second time.

"Very well then," he said. "At all events you can't forbid me to stay in
London, too."

"But I certainly shall. You may stay and see us settled, but after that
you are to go home and attend to your own affairs."

They reached London by noon, and before night they found, and took
possession of, a lodging which Mrs. Costello said to herself would suit
them very well until Lucia should be married; after which, of course,
she would want to settle near Hunsdon. Maurice spent the evening with
them, but was only allowed to do so on condition of leaving London for
home next morning.

As soon as they were at all settled, Mrs. Costello wrote to her cousin.
She told him that she had had urgent reason for quitting France
suddenly; that other causes had weighed with her in deciding to return
to England, and that she was anxious to see and consult with him. She
begged him, therefore, to come up to town and to bring one at least of
his daughters with him on a visit to Lucia.

When the letter had been sent off, she said to her daughter, "Suppose
that we are penniless in consequence of our flight? What is to done
then?"

"Surely that cannot be?"

"I do not know until I see my cousin. I think it must depend legally on
the terms of your grandfather's will; but, in fact, I suppose George had
the decision in his hands."

After this they both looked anxiously for Mr. Wynter's answer.




CHAPTER XXIV.


But before Mr. Wynter had time to reply.--indeed, by the very first
possible post--came a letter to Lucia, the sight of which made her very
rosy. She had had plenty of letters from Maurice long ago, and never
blushed over them as she did over this; but then this was so different.
She did not even like to read it in her mother's presence. She just
glanced at it there, and carried it off to devour in comfort alone. It
was quite short, after all, for he had scarcely had ten minutes before
the post hour; but it said--beside several things which were of no
interest except to the reader--that he had found Lady Dighton at Hunsdon
on his arrival, and had told her and his father together of his
engagement; that his cousin was going to write and invite Mrs. Costello
to Dighton; and that Mr. Leigh said, if they did not come down
immediately, he should be obliged to start for London himself to tell
them how pleased he was.

"At any rate," Maurice concluded, "I shall be in town again on Saturday.
I find I have business to see my lawyer about."

All this--as well as the rest of the note--was very agreeable. Lucia
went and sat down on a footstool at her mother's feet to tell her the
news. Mrs. Costello laid her hand on her child's head and sighed softly.

"You will have to give up this fashion of yours, darling," she said,
"you must learn to be a woman now."

Lucia laughed.

"I don't believe I ever shall," she answered. "At least, not with you or
with Maurice."

"Would you like to go to Dighton?"

She considered for a minute.

"Yes, mamma, I think I should. You know how things are in those great
houses; but I have never seen anything but Canada, and even there, just
the country. I should not like, by-and-by, for people to laugh at
Maurice, because I was only an ignorant country girl."

She spoke very slowly and timidly; but Mrs. Costello began to think she
was right. It would be as well that the future mistress of Hunsdon
should have some little introduction to her new world, to prepare her
for "by-and-by."

Next day came two letters for Mrs. Costello, as well as one for Lucia.
The first was from Lady Dighton full of congratulation, and pressing her
invitation; the other, from Mr. Wynter, announced that he, his wife, and
daughter, would be in London next evening. Next evening was Saturday,
and Maurice also would be there, and would, of course spend Sunday with
them; so that they had a prospect of plenty of guests.

Maurice, however, arrived early in the day. He had established himself
at a neighbouring hotel, and came in quite with the old air of being at
home. He made a little grimace when he heard of the others who were
expected, but contented himself by making the most of the hours before
their train was due. He found an opportunity also of conveying to Mrs.
Costello his conviction that Hunsdon was very much in want of a lady to
make it comfortable, and that Lucia would be much better there than
shut up in London. The fact that London was in its glory at that moment
made no impression on him.

"That is just it," he said, when this was suggested to him. "I want to
get it settled and bring her back to enjoy herself here a little before
the season is over."

It seemed, indeed, pretty evident that the present state of things could
not last long; there was no reason why it should, and nothing but the
bride's preparations to delay the long-desired wedding.

The Wynters came about nine o'clock. Mrs. Wynter instantly recognized
Maurice. Her daughters had speculated enough about her mysterious
visitor that winter night, to have prevented her forgetting him, if she
would otherwise have done so, and the state of affairs at present was
very soon evident as an explanation of the mystery. When the party
separated for the night, Mrs. Costello and Mr. Wynter remained in the
drawing-room for that consultation for which he had come, while his wife
and daughter stayed together upstairs to talk over their new relations
before going to bed.

Mrs. Costello, as briefly as possible, made her cousin comprehend that
she had been compelled to leave France, and had fled to England because
it was the most accessible refuge.

"I never meant to have come back," she said. "I have never allowed
myself to think of it, because I could not disobey my father again."

"I am glad you have come, to tell you the truth;" he answered. "I do not
at all imagine that, in your present circumstances, my uncle would have
wished to keep you away."

Mrs. Costello looked relieved.

"I am almost inclined to go further," he continued, "and to say that he
must have anticipated your return."

"Why?"

"Because in his will he gives you your income unconditionally, and only
expresses a wish that you should not come back."

"Is it so really?"

"Certainly. But you have a copy of the will."

"It has not been unpacked since we came from Canada. I had made it so
much my duty to obey the request that I had forgotten it had no
condition attached to it."

"It has none."

"I am very glad; and you think he would have changed his mind now?"

"I think so. Especially as it seems to me Lucia is likely to settle in
England."

"Yes, indeed. That was the second thing I wanted to speak to you about."

"They are engaged, I suppose?"

"Yes; it has been the wish of my heart for years. Maurice is like a son
to me."

They discussed the matter in its more commonplace aspect. The wealth and
position of the bridegroom elect were points as to which Mr. Wynter felt
it his business to inquire, and when he found these so satisfactory, he
congratulated his cousin with great cordiality, and plainly expressed
his opinion that delays in such a case were useless and objectionable.
He liked Lucia, and admired her, and thought, too, that there would be
no better way of blotting out the remembrance of the mother's
unfortunate marriage than by a prosperous one on the part of the
daughter.

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