Unable to throw off the load of painful apprehension that weighed so heavily on her heart, Regina derived some consolation from the reflection that she was entirely alone in the house, and could at least escape scrutiny and curious criticism; for she hoped that Mr. Palma, forgetting her, would go directly from his office to Mrs. Tarrant's, allowing her a reprieve until morning. During the second year of her residence beneath his roof, she had at his request taken her breakfast with him, sitting at the head of the table, where Mrs. Palma presided at all other times. Olga and her mother generally slept quite late, and consequently Regina now looked forward with dread to the tÊte-À-tÊte awaiting her next morning.

A few days subsequent to the Sunday afternoon on which her guardian had so unexpectedly accompanied her to church, she had been pleasantly surprised by finding in the library a handsome Mason & Hamlin parlour organ; on which lay a slip of paper, expressing Mr. Palma's desire that she would consider it exclusively hers, and sometimes play upon it for him. But an unconquerable timidity and repugnance to using the instrument when he was at home had prevented a compliance with the request, which was never repeated.

To-night the thought of the organ brought dear and comforting memories, and feeling quite secure from intrusion she went down to the library. As usual the room was bright and comfortable as gas and anthracite could make it, and failing to observe a sudden movement of the curtains hanging over the recess behind the writing-desk, Regina entered, closed the door and walked up to the glowing grate.

Beneath her mother's portrait sat the customary floral offering, which on this occasion consisted of double white and blue violets, and standing awhile on the hearth, the girl gazed up at the picture with mournful, longing tenderness. Could that proud lovely face ever have owned as husband, the coarser, meaner, and degraded clay, who that afternoon had dared with sacrilegious presumption to speak of her as "Minnie"?

What was the mystery, and upon whom must rest the blame, possibly the lifelong shame?

"Not you, dear sad-eyed mother. Let the whole world condemn, deride, and despise us; but only your own lips shall teach me to doubt you. Everything else may crumble beneath me, all may drift away; but faith and trust in mother shall stand fast—as Jacob's ladder, linking me with the angels who will surely come down its golden rounds and comfort me. Oh, mother I the time has come when you and I must clasp hands and fight the battle together; and God will be merciful to the right."

Standing there in her blue cashmere dress, relieved by dainty collar and cuffs of lace, she seemed indeed no longer a young almost childish girl, but one who had passed the threshold and entered the mysterious realm of early womanhood.

Rather below than above medium height, her figure was exquisitely moulded, and the beautiful head was poised on the shoulders with that indescribable proud grace one sometimes sees in perfect marble sculpture. But the delicate woeful Oenone face, as white and gleaming under its shining coil of ebon hair, as a statue carved from the heart of Lygdos; how shall mere words ever portray its peculiar loveliness, its faultless purity? Unconsciously she had paused in the exact position selected for that beautiful figure of "Faith" which Palmer has given to the world; and standing with drooping clasped hands and uplifted eyes gazing upon her mother's portrait, as the "Faith" looks to the lonely cross above her the resemblance in form and features was so striking, that all who have studied that exquisite marble can readily recall the countenance of the girl in the library.

Turning away, she opened the organ, drew out the stops and began to play.

As the soft yet sacredly solemn strains rolled through the long room, hallowed associations of the old parsonage life floated up, clustering like familiar faces around her. Once more she heard the cooing of ring-doves in the honeysuckle, and the loved voices, now silent in death, or far, far away among the palms of India.

"Cast thy burden on the Lord" had been one of their favourite selections at V——, and now hoping for comfort she sang it.

It was the first time she had attempted it since the evening before the storm, when Mr. Lindsay had sung it with her, while Mr. Hargrove softly hummed the base, as he walked up and down the verandah, with his arm on his sister's shoulder.

How many holy memories rushed like a flood over her heart and soul, burying for a time the bitter experience of to-day!

Unable to conclude the song, she leaned back in her chair, and gave way to the tears that rolled swiftly down her cheeks.

So wan and hopeless was her face that Mr. Palma, watching her from the curtained alcove, came quickly forward.

He was elegantly dressed in full evening toilette, and, throwing his white gloves on the table, approached his ward.

At sight of him she started up, and hastily wiped away the tears that obstinately dripped despite her efforts.

"Oh, sir! I hoped you would forget to come home, and would go to Mrs.
Tarrant's. I did not know you were in the house."

"I never forget my duties, and though I am going to Mrs. Tarrant's after a while, I attend to 'business before pleasure'; it has been my lifelong habit."

His new suit of black, and the white vest and cravat were singularly becoming to him. He was aware of the fact; and even in the midst of her anxiety and depression, Regina thought she had never seen him look so handsome.

"I wish to ask you a few questions. Was it actual bodily sickness, physical pain, that kept you in your room during dinner, at which I particularly desired your attendance?"

"I cannot say that it was."

"You had no fever, no headache, no fainting-spell?"

"No, sir."

"Then why did you absent yourself?"

"I felt unhappy, and shrank from seeing any one: especially strange guests."

"Unhappy? About what?"

"My heart ached, and I wished to be alone."

"Heart-ache, so early? However, you are in your seventeenth year, quite old enough, I suppose, for the premonitory symptoms. What gave you heart-ache?"

She was silent.

"You feared my displeasure, knowing I had cause to feel offended, when making a pretence of deferring to my wishes, you hurried away from my office, just as I was returning to it? Why did you not wait?"

"I was afraid you would refuse your permission, and I wanted so very much to go to Mrs. Mason's."

Above all other virtues he reverenced and admired stern unvarnished truth, and this strong element of her reticent nature had powerfully attracted him.

"Little girl, am I such a stony-hearted ogre?" A strangely genial smile wanned and brightened his usually grave cold face, and certainly at that moment Erle Palma showed one aspect of his nature never exhibited before to any human being.

"What a fascinating person this poor old Mrs. Mason must be; absolutely tempting you to disobedience. Does she not correspond with the saints in Oude?"

"If you mean Mr. Lindsay and his mother, she certainly hears from them occasionally."

"Why not phrase it Mrs. Lindsay and her son? Was it the dreadful news that malarial fever is epidemic at the Missions, or that the Sepoys are threatening another revolt, that destroyed your appetite, unfitted you for the social amenities at the dinner-table, and gave you heart-ache?"

"If there is such bad news, I did not hear it Mrs. Mason was not at home."

"Indeed! Then whom did you see?"

"When I ascertained she was absent, I had already sent the carriage away, and I came home, after stopping a few moments in —— Square."

She grew very white as she spoke, and he saw her lips quiver.

"Regina, what is the matter?"

She did not reply; and bending toward her, he said in a low, winning voice entirely unlike his usual tone:

"Lily, trust your guardian."

Looking into his brilliant eyes, she felt tempted to tell him all, to repose implicitly upon his wisdom and guidance, but the image of Peleg Peterson rose like a hideous warning spectre.

Readily interpreting the varying expression of a countenance which he had so long and carefully studied, he continued:

"You wish to tell me frankly, yet you shrink from the ordeal. Lily, what have you done that you blush to confess to me?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Why then do you hesitate?"

"Because other persons are involved. Oh, Mr. Palma! I am very unhappy."

She clasped her hands, and bowed her chin upon them, a peculiar position into which sorrow always drove her.

"I inferred as much, from your manner while at the organ. I am very sorry that my house is not a happy home for my ward. Have you been subjected to any annoyances from the members of my household?"

"None whatever. All are kind and considerate. But I can never be satisfied till I see my mother. I shall write tonight, imploring her permission to join her in Europe, and I beg that you will please use your influence in favour of my wishes. Oh, sir, do help me to go to my mother!"

His smile froze, his face hardened; and he led her to a low sofa capable of seating only two persons, and drawn near the fire.

"Madame Orme does not want her daughter just yet"

"But I want my mother. Oh, I must go!"

He took both her hands as they lay folded in her lap, opened the clenched fingers, clasping them softly in his own, so white and shapely, and his black eyes glittered:

"Am I cruel and harsh to my Lily, that she is so anxious to run away from her guardian?"

"No, sir, oh no! Kind and very good, consulting what you consider my welfare in all things. But you can't take mother's place in my heart."

"I assure you, little girl, I do not want your mother's place."

Something peculiar in his tone arrested her notice, and lifting her large lovely eyes she met his searching gaze.

"That is right, keep your eyes so, fixed steadily on mine, while I discharge a rather delicate and embarrassing duty, which sometimes devolves upon the grim guardians of pretty young ladies. In your mother's absence I am supposed to occupy a quasi parental position toward you; and am the authorized custodian of your secrets, should you, like most persons of your age, chance to possess any. Your mother, you are aware, invested me with this right as her vicegerent, consequently you must pardon the inquisition into the state of your affections, which just now I am compelled to make. Although I consider you entirely too young for such grave propositions, it is nevertheless proper that I should be the medium of their presentation when they become inevitable. Upon the tender and very susceptible heart of Mr. Elliott Roscoe it appears that either with 'malice prepense,' or else, let us hope, in innocent unconsciousness, you have been practising certain feminine wiles and sorcery, which have so far capsized his reason, that he is incapacitated for attending to his business. When I remonstrated against the lunacy into which he is drifting, he in very poetic and chivalric style—which it is unnecessary to repeat here—assured me that you were the element which had utterly deranged his cerebral equipoise. Elliott Roscoe is my cousin, is a young gentleman of good character, good mind, good education, good heart, and good manners, and in due time may command a good income from his profession; but just now, in pecuniary matters, he would not be considered a brilliant match. Mr. Roscoe informs me that he desires an interview with you to-morrow, for the purpose of offering you his heart and hand; and while protesting on the ground of your youth, I have promised to communicate his wishes to you, and should he be favourably received, write to your mother at once."

Perplexed and confused, she had not fully comprehended his purpose until he uttered the closing sentence, and painful astonishment kept her silent, while as if spellbound her gaze met his.

"Now it remains for you to answer one question. Should your mother give her consent, does Miss Regina Orme intend to become my cousin?"

"Oh, never! You distress me; you ought not to talk to me of such things. I am so young, you know mother would not approve of it."

She blushed scarlet, and attempted to withdraw her hands, but found it impossible.

"Quite true, and if crazy young gentlemen could be prevailed upon to keep silent, rest assured I should never have broached a subject, which I regard as premature. But while I certainly applaud your good sense, it is rather problematical whether I should feel gratified at your summary rejection of an alliance with my cousin. Are you fully resolved that I shall never be related to you, except as your guardian?"

"Yes, sir. I do not wish to be your cousin."

Once more the smile shone out suddenly, making sunshine in his face.

"Thank you. At what hour will you see Mr. Roscoe?"

"At none. Please do not let him come here, or speak to me on that subject; it would be so extremely painful. I should never meet him afterward without feeling distressed, and things would be intolerably disagreeable. Please, Mr. Palma, shield me from it."

She involuntarily drew closer to him, as if for protection, and noting the movement, he smiled, and tightened his clasp of her hands.

"I cannot positively forbid him to address you on this terrible topic, but if you wish it, I will endeavour to dissuade him. Elliott has Palma blood in his veins, and that has certain unmistakable tendencies to obstinacy, though its conduct in love affairs yet remains to be tested; but it occurs to me that if you are in earnest in desiring to crush this foolish whim in the bud, you can very easily accomplish it by empowering me to make to my cousin a simple statement, which will extinguish the matter beyond all possibility of resurrection."

"Then tell him whatever your judgment dictates."

"My judgment must be instructed by facts, and the simple statement I propose might involve grave consequences. Do you authorize me to close the discussion of this matter at once and for ever, by informing Mr. Roscoe that you cannot entertain the thought of granting him an interview because his suit is hopeless from the fact that your affections are already engaged?"

She was too much embarrassed by his piercing merciless eyes, to notice that he slipped one finger upon the pulse at her wrist, keeping her hands firmly in his warm clasp; or that he leaned lower as he spoke, until his noble massive head very nearly approached hers.

"I could not ask you to tell him that. It would be untrue."

"Are you sure, Lily?"

"Yes, Mr. Palma."

"Have you forgotten Mr. Lindsay?"

He thought for an instant that the pulse stood still, then beat regularly calmly on, and he wondered if his own tight pressure had baffled his object.

"No, I never forget Mr. Lindsay."

She did not shrink or colour, but a sad hopeless look crept into her splendid eyes at the mention of his name.

"You are certain that the young missionary will not prove the obstacle to your becoming more closely related to your guardian? Thus far, I have found you singularly truthful in all things; be careful that just here you deceive neither yourself nor me. There is a tradition that in the river Inachus is found a peculiar stone resembling a beryl, which turns black in the hands of those who intend to bear false witness; and you can readily understand that lawyers find such stones invaluable in the court-room. I have placed you on the witness stand, and my beryl-tinted seal ring presses your palm at this instant. Be frank; are you not very deeply attached to Mr. Lindsay?"

Suddenly a burning flush bathed her brow, she struggled to free her hands in order to hide her face from his glowing probing eyes, but his hold was unyielding as a band of steel; and hardly conscious where she found shelter, she turned and pressed her cheek against his shoulder, striving to avoid that inquisitorial gaze.

She did not see his face grow grey and stony, or that the white teeth gnawed the lower lip; but when he spoke his voice was stern, and indescribably icy.

"My ward should study her heart before she empowers her guardian to consider it unoccupied property. You should at least inform your mother that it has become a mere missionary station."

With her hot cheeks still hidden against his shoulder, she exclaimed:

"No, no! You do not at all understand me. I feel to him, to Douglass, exactly as I did when he went away."

"So I infer. Your feeling is sufficiently apparent."

"Not what you imagine. When he left me I promised him I would always love him as I did then; and I told him what was true: I loved him next to my mother. But not as you mean, oh no! If God had given me a brother, I should think of him exactly as I do of dear Douglass. I miss him very much, more than I can express; and I love him, and want to see him. But I never had any other thought, except as his adopted sister, until this moment when you spoke, and it shocked, it almost humiliated me. Indeed my feeling for him is almost holy, and your thought, your meaning seems to me sacrilegious. He is my noble true friend, my dear good brother, and you must not think such things of him and of me; it hurts me."

For nearly a moment there was silence.

Mr. Palma dropped one of her hands, and his arm passed quickly around her shoulder, while his open palm pressed her head closer against him.

"Is my ward sure that if he wished to be more than a brother, she would never reciprocate, would never cherish a different feeling, a stronger affection?"

"He could never wish that. He is so much older and wiser and better than I am; and looks on me only as a little sister."

"Is superiority in years and wisdom the only obstacle you can imagine?"

"I have never thought of it at all until you spoke, and it is painful to me. It seems disrespectful to connect such ideas as yours with the name of one whom I honour as my brother."

He put his hand under her chin, turning her face to view despite her struggle to prevent it, and bending his head—he did not kiss her! Oh no! Erle Palma had never kissed any one since his childhood; but for one instant his dark cheek was laid close to hers, with a tender caressing touch, that astonished her as completely as if one of the bronze statuettes on the console above her head had laughed aloud, and clapped its metallic hands.

"Henceforth the 'disrespectful idea' shall never be associated with the name of Mr. Douglass Lindsay, and in the future I warn you, there shall be none but a purely fraternal niche allowed him; moreover, it is not requisite that you should speak of him as 'dear Douglass' in order to assure me of your sisterly regard. What I shall do with my unfortunate young cousin is not quite so transparent; for Elliott will not receive his rejection by proxy."

He had withdrawn his arm, and released her hand, and rising she exclaimed impetuously:

"Tell him that Regina Orme will never permit him to broach that subject; and tell him, too, that I am a waif, a girl over whose parentage hangs a shadow dark and chill as a pall. Oh! tell him I want my mother, and an honourable unsullied name, and until I can find these I have no room in my mind or heart for a lover!"

As the events of the day, temporarily banished from her thoughts by the unexpected character of the interview, rushed back with renewed force and bitterness, the transient colour died out of her face, leaving it strangely wan and worn in aspect; and Mr. Palma saw now that purple shadows lay beneath the deep eyes, rendering them more than ever prophetic in their solemn mournful expression.

"What unusual occurrence has stimulated your interest and curiosity concerning your parentage?"

"It never slumbers. It is the last thought at night, and the first when the day dawns. It is a burden that is never lifted, that galls continually; and sometimes, as to-night, I feel that I cannot endure it much longer."

"You must be patient, for awhile at least——"

"Yes, I have heard that for ten long years, and I have been both patient and silent: but the time has come when I can bear no more. Anything positive, definite, susceptible of proof, no matter how distressing, would be more tolerable than this suspense, this maddening conjecture. I will see my mother; I must know the truth, be it what it may!"

The witchery of childhood had vanished for ever. Even the glimmer of hope seemed paling in the almost supernatural eyes, that had grown prematurely womanly; viewing life no more through the rainbow lenses of sanguine girlhood, but henceforth as an anxious woman haunting the penetralia of sorrow, never oblivious of the fact that over her path hovered the gibing spectre of disgrace.

The unwonted recklessness of her tone and mien annoyed and surprised her guardian, and while a frown gathered on his brow he rose and stood beside her.

"Your petulant vehemence is both unbecoming and displeasing; and in future you would do well to recollect that, as a child submitted to my guidance by your mother's desire, it is disrespectful both to her and to me to insist upon a course at variance with our judgment and wishes."

"I am not a child. To-day I know, I feel, I have done for ever with my old—happy childhood; I am—what I wish I were not, a woman. Oh, Mr. Palma, be merciful, and send me to mother!"

He looked down into the worn face gleaming under the gas-lamps of the chandelier, into the shadowy eloquent eyes, and noting the bloodless lips drawn sharply into curves of pain, his hand fell upon her shoulder.

"Lily, because I am merciful I shall keep you here. I am not a patient man, am unaccustomed to teasing importunity, and it would pain me to harshly bruise the white flower I have undertaken to shelter from storm and dust; therefore you must be quiet, docile, and annoy me no more with fruitless solicitations. Your mother does not want you in Europe."

"You will not let me go?"

"I will not. Let this subject rest henceforth, until I renew it."

With a faint moan, she shut her eyes and shivered; and again he took her little white cold hands.

"Little snow-statue, why will you not trust me? Tell me what has so suddenly changed the soft white Lily-bud of yesterday into this hollow-eyed, defiant young woman?"

The temptation was powerful to unburden her heart, to demand of him the truth, with which she suspected he was at least partly acquainted; but the thought of casting so fearful an imputation upon her mother sealed her lips. Moreover, she felt assured that her entreaties would never prevail upon him to disclose what he deemed it expedient to conceal.

He watched and understood the struggle, and a cold smile moved his handsome mouth.

"You have resolved to withhold your confidence. Very well, I shall never again solicit it. It is not my habit to petition for that which I have a right to command. You merely force me to draw the reins where I preferred you should at least imagine you were unbridled."

He dropped her hands, looked at his watch, and took up his gloves; adding, in an entirely altered and indifferent voice:

"What have you lost to-day?"

It was with difficulty that she restrained the words:
"My youth, my peace of mind, my hope and faith in my future."

Raising her hands wearily, she rested her chin upon them, and answered slowly:

"Many things, I fear."

"Valuable articles? Faded flowers, perfumed with choice Oriental reminiscences?"

"Yes, sir, I lost my purse, and my Agra violets."

"What reward will you offer for the recovery of such precious relics of fraternal affection? A promise of implicit obedience to your guardian? Certainly, they are worth that trifle?"

"They are very precious indeed. Where did you find my purse?"

"On the desk at my office."

He held up the ivory toy, then laid it on the table.

"Thank you, sir. Mr. Palma, will you grant me a great favour?"

"As I never forfeit my word, I avoid entangling myself rashly in the meshes of promise. Just now I am in no mood to grant your unreasonable petitions; still, I will be glad to hear what my ward desires of her guardian."

Her lip quivered, and his heart smote him as he observed her wounded expression. She was silent, still resting her drooped head on her folded hands.

"Regina, I am waiting to hear you."

"It is useless. You would refuse me."

"Probably I should; yet I prefer that you should express your wishes, and afford me an opportunity of judging of their propriety."

She sighed and shook her head.

"I shall not permit such childish trifling. Tell me at once what you wish me to do."

"Will you be so kind as to lend me twenty-five dollars, until I receive my remittance?"

His eyes fell beneath her timidly pleading gaze, and a deep flush of embarrassment passed over his face.

"That depends upon the use you intend to make of it. If you desire to run away from me, I am afraid you must borrow of some one else. Do you wish to pay your passage to Europe?"

"Oh no! I wish that I could. You allow me no such comforting hope."

"What do you want with it?"

"I cannot tell you."

"Because you know that your object is improper?"

"No, sir; but you would not understand my motives."

"Try me."

"I will not I hoped you would have sufficient confidence in me to grant my request without demanding my reasons."

"I have confidence in the purity of your motives. I do not question the goodness of your heart, or the propriety of your intentions; but I gravely doubt the correctness of your youthful judgment. Do not force me to refuse you such a trivial thing. Tell me your purpose."

"No, sir."

A proud grieved look crossed her delicate features.

He walked away, reached the door, then came back for one of his gloves which had fallen on the rug.

"Mr. Palma."

"Well, Miss Orme."

"Trust me."

He looked down into her beautiful sad eyes, and his heart began to throb fiercely.

"Lily, I will."

"Some day I will explain everything."

"When do you want the money?"

"To-morrow morning, if you please."

"At breakfast you will find it in an envelope under your plate."

"Thank you, sir. It is for——"

"Hush! Tell me nothing till you tell me all. I prefer to trust you entirely, and I shall wait for the hour when no concealment exists between us; when your secret thoughts are as much my property as my own. Less than that will never content your exacting guardian, but that hour is very distant."

She took his hand and pressed her soft lips upon it, ere he could snatch it away.

"God grant that hour may come speedily."

"Amen, Lily. You look strangely worn and ill; and your eyes are distressingly elfish and shadowy. Go to sleep, little girl, and forget that you forced me to be stem and harsh. Remember that your guardian, in defiance of his judgment, trusts you fully—entirely."

He turned quickly and quitted the library before she could reply, and soon after, hearing the street door close, she knew he had gone to Mrs. Tarrant's.