That Lucia could ever be his wife, she knew was utterly impossible.

She had thought that the worst which could happen, was that when he had left Cacouna his memory would have to be slowly and painfully eradicated from her heart, but now it had become needful to cause this beloved child a double share of the trouble, which she had so dreaded for her.

All these thoughts, and with them the idea of an added horror overhanging herself, seemed to press upon her brain with unendurable weight.

Yet, suffer as she might, time must not be suffered to pass.

Night was advancing, and before morning Lucia must know all the story, which once told, would shadow her life, and throw her new-born happiness out of her very recollection.
She stopped at last in her restless walk.