.

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ things with different eyes to men. My mother chose to marry, then, though my father was poor, and certain to remain so; though she was a gay spoiled girl of just twenty-one, and he a grave man not much under forty. He sold out, and they came here. I don't believe she ever was unhappy, or repented her marriage, and my father while she lived had all he cared for; since her death, indeed, there has been sorrow after sorrow."

      Maurice stopped a moment.

      "But you know all that," he said hastily, and went on. "My mother wrote several times to her father and to her brother, first after her arrival in Canada, then after the birth of her eldest child, and last of all just before she died; but no answer ever came. After her death my father, as she wished, wrote again, but until this morning he had heard nothing from my grandfather for all these six-and-twenty years."

      "You have heard, then, at last?"

      "At last. This morning a letter came. It is a pitiful one to read. My grandfather is, as you may suppose, a very old man; he is ill and alone, and begins to repent, I think, of his harshness to my mother."

      "But why is he alone? You said he had a son."

      "Yes, but he is dead. He died six months ago, and left but one child, a daughter, who is married and has no children."

      "No children? and your grandfather is very rich?"

      "I believe so."

      "But you are his heir, then? Is that it?"

      "He says so, or rather, he says my mother's eldest son is his heir. He knows nothing of me individually."

      "And you are the only one left? Ah, Maurice, if Alice even had been alive!"

      Maurice sighed.

      "If poor Herbert had been alive, how gladly I would have left the heirship to him!"

      "But why? I think that is foolish. It is a good thing to be rich. It will be a good thing for you, because you are good."

      Maurice laughed.

      "Your flattery, Lucia, will not reconcile me to my fate. You have not yet heard all."

      "What else? Is Mr. Leigh pleased?"

      "Not more than I am. My grandfather wants to see his heir."

      "Do you mean that he wants you to go to England?"

      "Yes. And my father consents."

      "But not yet?"

      "At once. To sail from New York on Saturday."

      "It is Wednesday now."

      "I start to-morrow night."

      "When will you come back?"

      "When, indeed? Lucia, do not you see that this is a heavy price to pay?"

      "Ah! don't go. This grandfather has been cruel all these years; let him wait now. Beside, what will Mr. Leigh do without you?"

      "He insists upon my going. He believes it would have been my mother's wish, and therefore he will rather stay here alone than refuse."

      "Then you must go. But could not you persuade him to come and stay with us? Mamma would like it, I know."

      "Impossible, dear child. Who knows how long I may be away, or what changes may take place before I come back."

      "Well, we shall see him every day, in any case. But what shall I do without you? and mamma?"

      "You remind me of the last thing I have to say. It seems to me, I cannot tell you why, as if this change in my own life was to be followed by other changes. I think Mrs. Costello has something of the same feeling, and I want to say this to you, that if you should find it true, you may remember in any disturbance of this quiet life of yours that I had some vague anticipation of it, and not hesitate to let me be any help, any use, to you that I can be. Do you understand? I shall be away, but I shall not be changed in anything. You told me the other day I always came to your help in your dilemmas. I want you to think of me always so. Can you manage to keep such, a living recollection of the absent?"

      Lucia's tears were falling fast by this time in the darkness, yet she thought there was something cold and restrained in Maurice's words and tone, and she could not guess how much the restraint cost him.

      "As if I should forget you!" she said rather resentfully. "I could just as soon forget my brother, if I had one."

      The word did not suit Maurice. He sighed, with a kind of impatience.

      "Shall we go in?" he said.

      They turned towards the house, but when they reached it, instead of following Lucia in, he said "Good-night."

      She turned in surprise.

      "But you are coming in?"

      "Not to-night; my father will be waiting for me."

      "Let me call mamma, then."

      "I have said good-night to her. You will not forget? I do not mean forget me, but, forget that wherever I am, or wherever you are, you have the right to ask anything of me that a friend can do for you."

      "But we shall see you to-morrow?"

      "Certainly. Go in; the air is damp and cold."

      He went away quickly, but Lucia lingered on the verandah until Mrs. Costello came to look for her. Already she thought the house looked desolate. What should they do without Maurice? Never in her life had she been so sorrowful, yet she had not the slightest idea how far his pain exceeded hers, or how he had longed for a word from her which would have encouraged him, at this last moment, to say all that was in his heart.

      CHAPTER VII.

       Table of Contents

      When Lucia awoke next morning, her first thought was of Maurice—what should she do without him? She rose and dressed hastily, fancying that at any moment he might come in, and anxious to lengthen, by every means, the time of their nearness to each other.

      Maurice, however, though he looked wishfully at the Cottage as he went about his preparations, had too many things to think of and arrange, to steal a moment for the indulgence of his inclinations until afternoon, and she was obliged to wait with such patience as she could for his coming. He had told Mrs. Costello that it would be needful for him to spend two or three hours in Cacouna, and asked her to see his father in the meantime. Thus, in the afternoon, Lucia was for a considerable time quite alone.

      Mrs. Costello, meanwhile, with more than friendly sympathy, heard from Mr. Leigh his reasons for urging upon Maurice this hasty departure, and cheered him with anticipations of his speedy return. They consulted over, and completed together, some last preparations for his voyage; and while they felt almost equally the trial of parting with him, the grief of each was a kind of solace to the other. For, in fact, whatever they might say, neither regarded this journey as an ordinary one, or thought that the return they spoke of would СКАЧАТЬ