Mrs. Costello knew tolerably well, when Lucia kissed her that night, what had happened. She said nothing audibly, but in her heart there was a Nunc Dimittis sung thankfully; and in spite of the sea, she fell asleep over it. The night was as calm as it could be, and Maurice, who had no inclination for sleep or for the presence of the crowd below, spent most of it on deck. Towards morning he went down; but at seven o'clock, when Lucia peeped out, he was up again and waiting for her. She only gave him a little nod and smile, however, and then retreated, but presently came back with her mother.
They got chairs and sat watching the coast, which was quickly coming nearer, and the vessels which they passed lying out in the still waters.
"We shall be in in two hours," Maurice said, "though we were late starting. The captain says he has not had such a good run this year."
"For which I am very thankful," Mrs. Costello answered.
"What a mercy it is to have got away so easily; it was well we sent to you, Maurice."
"Very well; the best thing that ever was done. Lucia and I agreed as to that last night."
Lucia pouted the very least in the world, and her mother smiled.
"It seems to me you took a long while to settle the question. I thought she was never coming."
"Why, mamma? I came as soon as the boat started."
"We have settled our differences," Maurice said, leaning down to speak quietly to Mrs. Costello. "Do you give us leave to make our own arrangements for the future?"