me get up, I intend to punish you with my society, just as
soon as I finish my toilette. If you see a brace of birds smothered
in truffles on the dinner-table, you may suspect the fate of all who
violate my dreams. Even feathered lovers are a pest. My little girl,
before you begin your reign in my California home, I shall remind you
of your promise, that no lover of yours will ever dare to darken my
doors."

With a smile lingering about her lip, after her uncle's departure,
Regina filled the _epergne_ on the table with a mass of rose-coloured
oleanders--her mother's favourite flowers, and fringed the edge with
geraniums and fuchsias. On her plate she laid a cluster of tuberoses,
grouped and tied in the shape of a heart, with spicy apple geranium
leaves girdling the waxen petals. The breath of the oleanders
perfumed the room, and when quite satisfied with the arrangement of
the flowers, Regina piled the crimson peaches and golden grapes in a
pyramid on the silver stand in the centre.

Drawing from her pocket a slender roll of sheet music fastened with
rose ribbon, and a tiny envelope addressed to her mother, she placed
them upon Mrs. Laurance's plate, crowning all with the white heart of
tuberoses.

For some days she had been haunted by a musical idea, which gradually
developed as she improvised into a _Nocturne_, full of plaintive
minor passages; and this first complete musical composition, written
out by her own hand, she had dedicated to her mother. It was called:
"Dreams of my mother."

Standing beside the table, her hands folded before her, and her head
slightly drooped, she fell into a brief reverie, wondering how she
could endure to live without the society of this beloved mother,
which imparted such a daily charm to her own existence, and as she
reflected on the past an expression of quiet sadness stole over her
countenance, and into--

"The eyes of passionless, peaceful blue
Like twilight which faint stars gaze through."

In the doorway fronting the east, Mr. Palma had stood for some
seconds unobserved, studying the pretty room and its fair young
queen.

In honour of her mother's birthday, she wore a white India muslin,
with a blue sash girding her slender waist, and only a knot of blue
ribbon at her throat, where the soft lace was gathered. Her silky
hair rolled in a heavy coil low at the back of her head, and was
secured by a gold comb; and close to one small ear she had fastened
a