Who could it be?
not Claudine, for she had the key.

Must she go and open the door?
It seemed so, since there was no one else; and while she hesitated there was another ring, a little louder than the first.
She got up, put down her work, and went towards the door.

"I wish Claudine would come," she said to herself; but Claudine was not likely to come yet, and meanwhile somebody was waiting.
"I suppose I shall have a flood of French poured over me," she thought dolorously; but there was clearly no help.
She went to the door, and opened it; a gentleman stood there--a gentleman! She uttered one little cry-- "Maurice!" And then they were both standing inside the closed door; and he held her two hands in his, and they were looking at each other with eyes too full of joy to see well.
"Lucia!" he said; "just yourself." But somehow his voice was not quite steady, and he dare not trust it any further.
"We wanted you so, and you are come.

Oh, Maurice! you are good to find us so soon!" "Did you think I should not ?" "I cannot tell.

How could you know where we were ?" "I went to Chester, and asked." "To Chester?
To my cousin's?
Just to find us out ?" "Why not?
Did not you know perfectly well that my first thought when I was free would be to find you ?" He spoke half laughing, but there was no mistaking his earnestness in the matter; was not he here to prove it?
Tears came very fast to Lucia's eyes.