.

At the sound of his quiet voice, Regina started up.

"Oh, Uncle Orme! I did not see you. Pray excuse me. I will not
disturb you."

She was hurrying away, but he caught her dress.

"My dear, are you threatened with ophthalmia, that you cannot see a
man three yards distant, who measures six feet two inches? Certainly
I excuse you. A man who is kept awake all night by one set of love
ditties, dragged out of his bed before sunrise, and after taking
exercise and a bath that render him as hungry as a Modoc cut off from
his lava-beds, is expected and forced to hold his famished frame in
peace, while a pair of human lovers exhaust the vocabulary of cooing
that man can patiently excuse much. Sit down, my dear girl. Because
my beard is grey, and crow-feet gather about my eyes, do you suppose
the old man's heart cannot sympathize with the happiness that throbs
in yours, and that renews very sacredly the one sweet love-dream of
his own long-buried youth? I know, dear; you need not try to tell me,
need not blush so painfully. Mr. Palma reached Como last evening; I
knew he was coming, and saw him early this morning. I can guess it
all, and I am very glad. God bless you, dear child. Only be sure you
tell Palma that we allow no lovers in our ideal home."

He put his hand on her drooping head, and drawing it down, she
silently pressed it in her own. So they sat; how long, neither knew.
She dreaming of that golden future that had opened so unexpectedly
before her; he listening to memory's echoes of a beloved tone long
since hushed in the grave.

When approaching voices were heard, he rose to steal away and tears
moistened his mild brown eyes.

"Stay with me, please," she whispered, clinging to his sleeve.

Through the arched doorway of the arbour, she saw two walking slowly.

Mrs. Laurance leaned upon Mr. Palma's arm, and as he bent his
uncovered, head, in earnest conversation, his noble brow was placid
and his haughty mouth relaxed in a half-smile. They reached the
arbour, and paused.

In her morning robe of delicate lilac tint, Mrs. Laurance's sad
tear-stained face seemed in its glory of golden locks, almost as
fair as her child's. But one was just preparing to launch her frail
argosy of loving hopes upon the sunny sea that stretched in liquid
splendour before her dazzled eyes; the other had seen the wreck of
all her heart's most precious freight, in the storm of varied griefs,
that none but Christ could hush with His d