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Updated: May 7, 2025
"And our room is giving a spear," said Alanna, uncertainly. "A spear, darlin'?" wondered her mother. "What would you give that to Superior for?" Jim and Dan looked up expectantly, the Mayor's mouth twitched. Alanna buried her face in her mother's neck, where she whispered an explanation. "Well, of course!" said Mrs. Costello, presently, to the company at large.
"Me, too?" said Marg'ret Hammond, catching a rapturous breath. "You, too," answered Mrs. Costello in her most matter-of-fact tone. "You see, you three will be the very centre of the group, and it'll look very nice, your all being dressed the same why, Marg'ret, dear!" she broke off suddenly. For Marg'ret, standing beside her chair, had dropped her head on Mrs. Costello's shoulder and was crying.
But to-night Lucia was dreaming of England, the far-away "home" which she had never seen, but of which almost all her elder friends spoke, and where her mother's childhood and girlhood had been passed. She still leaned her head back lazily as she began to talk. "Are English sunsets as lovely as ours, Mamma?" Mrs. Costello smiled.
You ought to exhibit, Miss Costello." Lucia laughed. "What chance should I have? They say an amateur never can compete with a professed gardener, and ours is all amateur work." "Is it possible? Do you mean to say that you do actually cultivate your flowers with your own hands?" "Certainly, with a little help from my friends." She was about to say "from Maurice," but changed the phrase.
She had watched her narrowly at the time of Percy's leaving, and became satisfied that there was some trouble of a sterner kind than regret for him now weighing heavily upon her heart. Although Mrs. Bellairs told her sister of the intended journey of Mrs. Costello and Lucia, the preparations for that journey were being made with as little stir as possible, and except herself, her husband, and Mr.
Costello in this note, but, on the other side of the half sheet which held the conclusion of it, was a postscript hastily scrawled, "Tell Mrs. Costello to remember the last talk we had together, and to believe that I am obstinate." This postscript, however, Mr. Leigh in his excitement and joy at the prospect of so soon seeing his son, never found out.
Costello and Lucia found their journey from Cacouna to New York a very melancholy one. They had gone through so much already, that change and travel had no power to stimulate their overstrained nerves to any further excitement; the time of reaction had begun, and a sort of languid indifference, which was in itself a misery, seemed to have taken possession of them.
Costello was a shoemaker, an active man in his business, industrious and sober. He went out early in the morning upon an errand, was accosted, and finally was pursued by a powerful man. He ran down the street; endeavored to make his escape; was nearly overtaken by his pursuer; in self-defence he turned and shot the rioter with a revolver. The shot proved to be mortal; he died two days after.
"I am Lucia Costello. Doctor Hardy told my mother of your illness, and she sent me to see whether we cannot be of some use to you or the little ones." Lucia had puzzled beforehand over what she should say, but finally her little speech was just what happened to come into her head at the moment.
Besides this, the weather was so cold and business had dropped off to such an extent at the Museum that Costello had been compelled to reduce Von Barwig's salary fifty per cent. "A half a loaf is better than none," he had told the night professor as he handed him his envelope with half salary in it; so Von Barwig had been compelled to take what he could get.
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