She longed to cry out, to clasp her arms round her mother, to struggle, with all the force of her great love, against this fate; and yet, so well had she understood, so clearly she remembered, even through her agony, the need for quietness, that she kept a force upon herself like iron, trying to steady the pulses that throbbed so wildly, with one thought, or rather one impulse, "I must not trouble _her_." Mrs.Costello looked at her child for a moment in silence.

Even she did not yet fully understand the force of that quality which Lucia herself had once ascribed to her Indian blood, but which, in truth, had little affinity with common fortitude, for it was simply a conquest of self, gained without thought or conscious effort, by the greater power of love.

But such contests cannot last long.

This was fierce and cruel, but it ended as love willed.

The poor child dragged herself up again to her mother's knee, and drew the pale, fair face down to her own flushed and burning one; but one kiss, silent and full of anguish, was all that she dared venture yet.