CHAPTER XIX.
The cold grey of the early winter morning was just beginning to be warmed by the first flash of crimson before sunrise, as Mrs.Bellairs drove away from the prison gates with the two who had kept so strange a vigil.

Neither of them noticed the sky then, or they might have seen how after the shadows began to disappear, and the snowy glimmer which had shone palely all night, was swallowed up in the growing brightness of morning, everything began to be tinged with rosy splendour, and life fresh and joyous, sprang up to meet the sun.

It was winter still--all last year's leaves and flowers were dead, and there was the hush of snow and frost upon everything; but over all, after storm and night came light and gladness, and the flowers would bloom again in their season.
It was quite early still and few people were stirring.

They saw no one on their arrival except Bella, who was ready to run down and admit them the moment their sleigh-bells were heard.

Mother and daughter went to their room, where the fire had been burning all night in readiness for their coming, and where Mrs.Bellairs herself brought them some coffee.
Then Lucia lay down and was soon asleep; and Mrs.Costello seeing that she was so, followed her example.
There was no vehement grief to keep her waking in these first hours of her widowhood, but rather a sense of infinite calm.