He quickly decided, therefore, to do nothing until he could go himself to Chester, and from thence direct to the place, wherever that might be, where Lucia was to be found.
Mr.Leigh's day, meanwhile, had been far less comfortable than Maurice's.

He had made a pretence of looking over papers, and arranging various small affairs in readiness for their voyage, but his mind all the while had been occupied with two or three questions.

Had Maurice really sent to him a note for Mrs.Costello which by any carelessness of his had been lost?
Had the change he remembered in her manner been connected with the loss?
Had Lucia cared for Maurice?
Had either mother or daughter thought so ill of Maurice as he, his own father, had done?
The poor old man tormented himself, much as a woman might have done, with these speculations, but he dared not breathe a word of them.

He even went so far in his self-accusations and self-disgust as to imagine that if he had been his son's faithful helper, he might have prevented that flight from the Cottage which had caused so much trouble and vexation.
Still, when Maurice came home full of energy and hope, and anxious to atone for his unreasonableness of the previous day, the aspect of affairs brightened a good deal, and the evening passed happily with both.
But after that first day a certain amount of disturbance began to be felt in the household.

People came and went perpetually.