"Young."
"Handsome or ugly?"
"Need he be either?"
"Of course. Which, mamma?"
"Not ugly, decidedly. Tall, and rather dark, with a very frank, honest-looking face."
"Young, handsome, tall, dark, and honest-looking! Mamma, he's a hero of romance, especially coming as he did, in the rain and the night."
"Don't be silly, Tiny. Mamma, is not my cousin Lucia a great beauty?"
CHAPTER X.
Mrs. Costello and Lucia had grown, to some degree, accustomed to their Paris life. Its novelty had at first prevented them from feeling its loneliness; but as time went on, there began to be something dreary in the absence of every friendly face, every familiar voice. Mrs. Costello would not even write to Canada until she could feel tolerably sure that her letters would only arrive after the Leighs had left; she had taken pains to find out all Mr. Leigh could tell her of Maurice's intentions, and she guessed that, for one reason or another, he would not be likely to stay longer in Cacouna than was necessary. Even when she wrote to Mrs. Bellairs she did not give her own address, but that of the banker through whom her money was transmitted.