Her one anxiety was for Lucia, and the safe disposal of her future.

She told herself often that her cares were exaggerated, but they would stay with her nevertheless, and rather seemed to grow in intensity with every change that occurred.

But to-night, certainly, a gleam of the hope which she had of late, so carefully shut out, again crossed her mind.

How great a change had come since morning, since last night, when she wrote that final decisive letter to Maurice! It was already on its way to England, she knew, for it chanced to be the very time for the mail starting; and there would be an interval of a week between its arrival and that of any later intelligence.

For a week Maurice would believe Lucia's father to be a murderer, and if _then_, in spite of all, he remained faithful to his old love, would he not have an unanswerable right to claim her--would there be any excuse for denying his claim since her father was proved to be innocent?
The belief that he would be faithful was, after all, strong in Mrs.Costello's mind; she who had known Maurice all his life knew perfectly that no considerations, which had himself in any way for their object, would have the smallest weight with him against his love, or even against what he chose to consider his honour.
Her face unconsciously brightened while she thought over all these things, and suffered herself again to dwell on her old favourite idea without being in the least doubtful as to Lucia's final consent.