How then should they bear this?
And their secret, must it not be known now?
become the common gossip of the country, of the people who had called them friends?
Each felt instinctively that their thoughts were running on in the same channels, each shrank from words.

Yet, it was needful to consult, to ask each other the question, "What shall we do ?" At last Mrs.Costello roused herself.
"We must put off our journey," she said, with a smothered sigh, which, indeed, had nearly been a groan.
Lucia looked up.
"It may not be true," she answered, knowing that there was no need to say what "it" was--the idea which had seized upon both their minds with so deadly a grasp.
"It may not, God grant it! But we must know; and if it is, I ought to be here." "Mother, you cannot.

It will kill you." Mrs.Costello smiled, the wan smile of long-taxed patience.
"No," she said, "I think not.

Life is hard for both of us, hardest perhaps for you, darling, just now, but I have no thought that it is over yet for either of us." Lucia came and knelt down in her old place by her mother's side.

It always seemed as if thus close together, able to speak to each other as much by caresses as by words, they were both stronger, and could look more calmly at the calamities which threatened them with every evil except that of separation.
"You will write to Mr.Strafford ?" Lucia asked.
"Yes; but first we must know certainly." "And how to do that ?" "There will be no difficulty to-morrow.