"Not just that. At first, you know, I thought everything could be made to come right in time—and then mamma told me all that terrible story about her marriage, and about the constant fear she was in; and then—I could not tell that to him—so I said he must go away. And he did; but he told me perhaps in a year I should change my mind. And the year is not over yet."
Maurice was silent. He would not, if he could help it, say one word of evil to Lucia about this man whom she still loved; and at first he could not trust himself to speak.
"How did you know?" she asked.
And he understood instinctively what she meant, and told her shortly when and where he had seen Percy, and what he had heard from the solicitor.
"It is the same lady, then," she said, "that I remember hearing of."
"Yes, no doubt. I recollect some story being told of him and her, even in Cacouna."
Lucia sighed heavily. She had now got over the difficulty of speaking on the subject to Maurice. She knew so well that he was trustworthy, and for the rest, was he not just the same as a brother?
"He might have waited a year," she murmured. "You cannot imagine how happy I have been lately, thinking I must see him soon!"
"Cannot I?" Maurice cried desperately. "Listen to me, Lucia! I, too, have been happy lately. I have been living on a false hope. I have been deceived, and placed all my trust in a shadow. Don't you think we ought to be able to feel for each other?"
His vehemence and the bitterness of his tone terrified her. She laid her little trembling hand on his appealingly.