But she longed to hear more, and presently Mrs.
Costello spoke again, not daring yet to go back to the point of which they had last spoken, but returning to the subject of their journey.
"The steamer calls at Southampton," she said.

"I intend to write to George, and tell him the time of our sailing, so that, if he wishes, he can meet us there.

We will go from Havre to Paris, and stay there for awhile; afterwards, I think we should be more comfortable in a country town, if we can find one not too inaccessible." There was something in this sentence peculiarly reassuring.

Lucia instinctively reasoned that, since her mother could make plans for their future so far in advance, the danger of which she had just spoken must be remote.

What is remote, we readily believe uncertain; and thus, after a few minutes of absolute hopelessness, she began to hope again, tremblingly and fearfully, but still with more ardour than if the previous alarm had been less complete.
"Dear mamma," she said, "Doctor Hardy may be very clever, but I am not going to put any faith in him.