atify a caprice of your guardian?"

"Have you caprices? I think not but I will oblige you if I can do
so."

"Thank you. In future you must never walk to see Mrs. Mason, always
go in the carriage; and I am unwilling that you should be out as late
as this, unless Mrs. Palma accompanies you, or I am with you. You
need not ask my reasons; it is sufficient that I wish it, and it is
my caprice to be obeyed without questions. One thing more: I do not
at all like your name--never did. Latinity is not one of my
predilections, and _Regina, Reginae, Reginam_, wearily remind me of
the classic-slough of declensions and conjugations of my Livy,
Sallust, Tacitus. In my mind you have always been associated with the
white lilies that you held at the convent the first time I saw you,
that you held to your heart while asleep on the cars; and hereafter
when only you and I are present, I intend to indulge the caprice of
calling my ward--Lily."

CHAPTER XVIII.

"Yonder they come! They have just left the carriage, and as usual she
is escorted by her body-guard; those grim old fogies, who watch her
like a pair of grey owls. Now, Doctor, you must contrive an
introduction."

General Rene Laurance raised his gold eyeglass, and looked curiously
toward a group of three persons who were walking amid the ruins of
Pozzuoli.

His companion Dr. Plymley, who was examining an inscription, turned
around and looked in the direction indicated.

"Are you sure? I am quite near-sighted."

"Very sure, for no other figure could be mistaken for hers. By all
the gods ever worshipped here, she is the loveliest woman I ever saw,
but as coy as a maid of fifteen. The fact that she secludes herself
so rigidly only stimulates curiosity, and I have sworn a solemn oath
to make her acquaintance; for it is something novel in my experience
to have my overtures rejected, my courtesies ignored."

"Come this way, General. This encounter must appear purely
accidental, for Madame Orme is very peculiar, very suspicious; and if
she imagines we planned this excursion to meet her, or left Naples
with the intention of joining her party, the chances are that I as
well as you would be snubbed. In her desire to avoid society and
personal attention, one might suppose her an escaped abbess from some
convent, instead of a popular actress. It was with much difficulty
that I prevailed on her to receive my son and wife one afternoon; as
she remarked that her object in comin