Two or three weeks passed.

The inhabitants of Cacouna had grown accustomed to the sight of Mr.Percy's tall figure, as he lounged from his cousin's house to his office, or rode and drove with Mrs.Bellairs.
From different causes, the project of spending the day at the farm, as well as some other schemes of amusement, had been deferred, and, with one or two exceptions, all was going on as usual.

The most notable of these exceptions was in the life at the cottage, formerly so calm, so regular, so smooth in its current.

Now a change had crept over both mother and daughter, and the very atmosphere of the house seemed to have changed with them.
In Lucia, even a casual visitor would have remarked the difference.

Her beauty seemed suddenly to have burst from bud into blossom; her childishness of manner had almost left her; her voice, especially in singing, had grown more full and musical.
In Mrs.Costello, the change was the reverse of all this.