She had none, however, and could devise no better plan than that of telling Mrs.Costello, quite simply, what she had just heard from Margery.
As she opened the door of the parlour, Mrs.Costello half rose from the sofa, where she was lying.
"Is it you, darling," she asked, "so soon ?" "There is a storm coming on," Lucia answered; "we hurried home to escape it." "And you have had a pleasant day ?" "Very pleasant.

You have been out, too ?" "Yes; poor Mr.Leigh is quite an invalid, and complains that he never sees you now." "I will go to-morrow," Lucia said hastily, and then, glad to escape from the subject, asked if her mother had seen an Indian woman about?
Mrs.Costello answered no, but Lucia felt her start, and went on to repeat, in as unconcerned a tone as possible, Margery's story; but when she said that her own name had been mentioned, her mother stopped her.
"Was the woman a stranger?
Have you ever seen her ?" "She was a stranger to Margery certainly.

I think I saw her to-day." "Where?
Tell me all you know of her." Lucia described the squaw's appearance at the farm.
"It must be Mary," Mrs.Costello said half to herself.

"What shall I do?
How escape ?" She rose from the sofa and walked with hurried steps up and down the room.

Lucia watched her in miserable perplexity till she suddenly stopped.
"Is that all ?" she asked.