It was in this respect not to be much regretted that Lucia still thought faithfully of Percy--not at all as of one who might yet have any renewed connection with her life, but as of one dead.
The poor child, in spite of her premature womanliness, was full of romantic fancies; while Percy was near her she had made him a hero; now since his disappearance, she had found it natural enough to build him a temple and put in it the statue of a god.

And it was better that she should mourn over a dead love, than that she should a second time be tormented by useless hopes and fears.
That afternoon Mrs.Costello and Lucia went together into Cacouna, taking with them some small comforts for the invalid, but Lucia was not yet permitted to see him.

She parted from her mother at the prison door, and went to pay a visit to Mrs.Bellairs and Bella, the last time she was ever likely to see them on the old frank and intimate footing.
Even now, indeed, the intimacy had lost much of its charm.

She loved them both more than ever, but the miserable consciousness of imposture weighed heavily upon her, and seemed to herself to colour every word she uttered.

She did not stay long; and making a circuit in order to pass the jail again, in hopes of meeting her mother, she walked sadly and thoughtfully through the winter twilight towards home.