I have never been in any haste for you to be otherwise." "But I am not such a child, really, mamma.

Sixteen and a half! I ought to be very nearly a woman." Mrs.Costello sighed.
"You will be a woman soon enough, my darling, be content as to that." "All the sooner now I have nobody but you to keep me in order.

Mamma, how _shall_ we do without Maurice at Bella's wedding ?" When the 'Queen of the West' passed down the river that evening with Maurice on board, he could plainly distinguish two figures standing on the verandah of the Cottage, and recognize Mrs.Costello's black dress, and Lucia's softly flowing muslin, framed in the green branches of the vine and climbing roses.

One of those roses went with him on his journey to remind him, if anything were needed to remind him, of the place to which, even more than to his father's house, his heart turned as home.
For a whole day Lucia had scarcely once remembered Mr.Percy; and that same day she had scarcely been a moment absent from his thoughts.

Not that this had been at all the case during the whole of his absence from Cacouna.