Lucia, half hidden by the curtain, sat pondering uselessly over the letter she had read; feeling a vague fear and a livelier curiosity.

But a heart so ignorant of sadness in itself, and so filled at the moment with all that is least in accord with the prosaic troubles of middle life, could not remain long fixed upon a doubtful and uncomprehended misfortune.

Gradually her fancy reverted to brighter images; the sunny life of her short experience, the only life she could believe in with a living faith, had its natural immutability in her thoughts; and she unconsciously turned from the picture which had been forced upon her--of her mother shrinking terrified from a calamity about to involve them both--to the brighter one of her own happiness which that dear mother could not help but share.

So strangely apart were the two who were nearest to each other.
Mrs.Costello was the first to rouse herself.
"Light the lamp, dear," she said, "and let us have tea.

I suppose I must not get up again." "No indeed.