n, feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed, and secretly hoping
that her guardian was absent. At a large desk near the door sat a
young man intently copying some papers, and as the visitor entered,
he rose and stared. "Is Mr. Palma here?"

"He will be in a few moments. Take a seat."

Hoping to escape before his return, she said hastily: "I have not
time to wait. Can you give me a pencil and piece of paper? I wish to
leave a note."

There were two desks in the apartment, but glancing at their dusty
appearance, and then at the dainty pearl-tinted gloves of the
stranger, the young man answered hesitatingly:

"You will find writing materials on the desk in the next room. The
door is not locked."

She hurried in, sat down before the desk where a number of papers
were loosely scattered, and took up a pen lying near a handsome
bronze inkstand.

How should she commence? She had never written him a line, and felt
perplexed. While debating whether she should say Dear Mr. Palma or My
Dear Guardian, her eyes wandered half unconsciously about the
apartment, until they were arrested by a large portrait hanging over
the mantlepiece. It was a copy of the picture her mother had directed
to be painted by Mr. Harcourt, and which had been sent to Europe.

This copy differed in some respects from the original portrait; Hero
had been entirely omitted, and in the hands of the painted girl were
clusters of beautiful snowy lilies.

Surprised and gratified that he deemed her portrait worthy of a place
in his office, she hastily wrote on a sheet of legal cap:

"DEAR MR. PALMA,--Having no engagements until to-morrow, I wish
to spend the afternoon with Mrs. Mason, who has removed to No.
900, East ---- Street, but Mrs. Palma advised me to ask your
permission. Hoping that you will not object to my making the
visit, without having waited to see you, I am,

"Very respectfully
Your ward,
REGINA ORME."

Leaving it open on the desk, where he could not fail to see it, she
glanced once more at the portrait, and hurried away, fearful of being
intercepted ere she reached the carriage.

"Drive to No. 900, East ---- Street."

The carriage had not turned the neighbouring corner, when Mr. Palma
leisurely approached his office door, with his thoughts intent upon
an important will case, which was creating much interest and
disc