But he never came to it.
Horace, however, was in some way aware that the same idea had occurred to both of them.

Whatever it was, the old man had died happy in it.
There was no engagement, only a something altogether intangible and vague, understood to be an understanding.

And Lucia adored him.

If she had not adored him he might have been urged to something irretrievable and definite.

As it was, there was no need, and nothing could have been more soothing than the golden concord of that understanding.
Needless to say if Lucia had been anybody but Lucia, such a solution would have been impossible.