A Canadian Heroine, Volume 1 | Page 2

example. Spanish it was said to be, but the child was

Canadian by birth, and her mother English; it was clear that whatever
race had bestowed Lucia's dower of beauty, it had come to her through
her father.
Mother and daughter often sat as now, silent and idle both; Lucia
dreaming after her girlish fashion, and Mrs. Costello content to wait
and let her life be absorbed in her child's. 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. "I can't tell," she said; "they are as lovely to
me,--but I only see them in memory."
"You have often talked about going home, when shall it be?"
"I have talked of your going, not of mine--that will never be."
"Mamma!" Lucia raised her head. She looked at her mother inquiringly,
but somehow she felt that Mrs. Costello could not talk to her just then.
A troubled expression crossed her own face for a moment, then she put
down the ball of wool and laid her arms caressingly round her mother's
waist.
But both again remained silent for many minutes, so silent that the faint
wash of the river against the bank sounded plainly, and a woodpecker
could be heard making his last tap-tap on a tree by the garden-gate.
By-and-by Mrs. Costello spoke again, as if there had been no
interruption. "But about this picnic, Lucia; do you think it would be a
great sacrifice to give it up?"
"A great sacrifice? Why, mamma, you must think me a baby to ask
such a question. I stayed away from the best one last summer without
breaking my heart."

"Last summer I thought you too young for large parties, but this year I
have let you go--and, indeed, I do not forbid your going this time.
Understand that clearly, my child. I have only fancy, not reason, to set
against your wishes."
"Mother, you are not fanciful. Since you wish me to stay at home, I
wish it also. Forget the picnic altogether."
She sprang up, kissed her mother's forehead, and darted away to the
further end of the verandah, bursting out into a gay song as she leaned
over to gather a spray of pale prairie roses that climbed up the
trellis-work. The pretty scentless blossoms were but just caught, when a
rattling of wheels was heard on the stony lane which led from the
high-road to the cottage.
"Who can be coming now? Margery is out, mamma, and the gate is
fastened; I must go and open it."
She darted into the house on her errand--for the principal entrance was
in the gable end of the building--but before she had had time to cross
the parlour and hall to the outer door, the little garden-gate opened, and
a very pretty woman in a grey cloak and straw hat came through, and
up the verandah steps with the air of a person perfectly at home.
Mrs. Costello rose to meet her with an exclamation.
"Mrs. Bellairs! We never thought of it being you. Lucia is gone to open
the gate."
"I found the little one open; so I left Bella to take care of Bob, and
came round. In fact, I ought not to be here at all, but as I wanted to
persuade you about to-morrow, I ran away the moment dinner was over,
and must run back again instantly."
"Sit down, at any rate, while you are here."
She sat down, and taking off her hat, threw it on the floor.

"How delicious this is! I believe you don't know what heat means. I
have been half dead all day, and not a moment's rest, I assure you, with
the people continually coming to ask some stupid question or to borrow
something. The house is half stripped now and I fully expect that
before to-morrow night it will be emptied of everything movable in it."
"You are surely getting up something more elaborate than usual; do
you expect to have so much pleasure?"
"Oh, I suppose the young people do. Of course, staid matrons like you
and me," with a gay laugh, "cannot be quite so sanguine; but, however,
they do expect great fun, and I came to implore you to let Lucia come. I
assure you I won't answer for the consequences if she does not."
"Lucia shall go if she wishes it." Mrs. Costello spoke gravely, and
stopped abruptly. She resumed, "You know I never leave home; and it
may be excused to a mother who sees nothing of the world,