cluster of snowy velvet pansies, which contrasted daintily with the
glossy blackness of her hair.

To the man who had crossed the ocean solely to feast his hungry eyes
upon that delicate cameo face, it seemed as pure as an angel's.
Although continual heart-ache, and patient uncomplaining need of
something that she knew and felt God had removed for ever beyond her
reach, had worn the cheek to a thinner oval, and left darker shadows
in her calm eyes, Mr. Palma who had so long and carefully
scrutinized her features, acknowledged now, that indeed--

"She grew fairer than her peers;
Still her gentle forehead wears
Holy lights of infant years."

Nearly eight years before, as he watched her asleep in the railway
car, he had wondered whether it were possible that she could carry
her tender loving heart, straightforward white soul, and saintly
young face untarnished and unbruised into the checkered and feverish
realm of womanhood?

To-day she stood as fair and pure as in her early childhood, a gentle
image of renunciation, "all unspotted from the world," whose
withering breath he had so dreaded for his flower.

Watching her, a sudden splendour of hope lighted his fine eyes, and a
glow of intense happiness fired his usually pale cheek.

Slowly she turned away from the table, and against the glory of the
sunlight streaming through the open door, she saw her guardian's tall
figure outlined.

Was it a mere blessed vision, born of her recent reverie on the
terrace; or had he died, and his spirit, reading the secret of her
soul, had mercifully flown to comfort her by one farewell appearance?

He opened his arms and his whole face was radiant with passionate and
tender love. She did not move, but her eyes gazed into his, like one
in a happy dream, who fears to awake.

He came swiftly forward, and holding out his arms, exclaimed in a
voice that trembled with the excess of his joy:

"My Lily! My darling!"

But she did not spring to meet him, as he hoped and expected, and
thrilled by the music of his tone she grew paler standing quite
still, with trembling lips and eyes that shone like stars when autumn
mists begin to gather.

"My Lily, come to me, of your own dear will."

"Mr. Palma, I am glad, very glad, to see my guardian once more."

She put out her hand, which shook, despite her efforts to keep it
steady, and her own voice sounded far, far off, like an echo lost
among strange hills.

He