before her recollection. So it was at the threshold. Her mother led her
to the bedside, and the vision fled. Her eyes fell upon a face, little
darker than her own, where not the slightest flush even of life-like
colour remained, where a perfect calm had given back their natural
nobleness to the worn features, and where scarcely a line was left to
show the trace of life's sins or sufferings. She stood for a moment half
bewildered. She knew that what she saw was but the faintest shadow of
what had been, and, turning, she threw her arms about her mother's neck,
and whispered,

"Ah, mamma! I understand all now."




CHAPTER XVIII.


Mother and daughter watched for some time in silence. At last Lucia
whispered, "May I go and tell Mrs. Bellairs that I shall remain with
you?"

"Is she here, then? Go, rather, and ask her to come to me for a moment."

Lucia went, and came to Mrs. Bellairs with such strange gladness in her
face that she looked as she had not done for months past.

"Will you go up to mamma?" she said. "My father seems to be asleep, and
she wishes to see you."