art had never indulged a feeling that could have
coloured her cheek with confusion had the world searched its
recesses.

Were Douglass accessible, she would unhesitatingly have sprung into
his protecting arms, as any suffering young sister might have done,
and, fully unburdening her soul, would have sought brotherly counsel;
but in his absence, to whom was it possible for her to turn?

To her guardian? As she thought of his fastidious overweening pride,
his haughty scorn of everything plebeian, his detestation of all that
appertained to the ranks of the ill-bred, a keen pang of almost
intolerable shame darted through her heart, and a burning tide surged
over her cheeks, painting them fiery scarlet. Would he accord her the
shelter of his roof, were he aware of all that had occurred that day?

She started up, prompted by a sudden impulse to seek him and divulge
everything; to ask how much was true, to demand that he would send
her at once to her mother.

Perhaps he could authoritatively deny that man's statements, and
certainly he was far too prudent to assume guardianship of a girl
whose real parentage was unknown to him.

Implicit confidence in his wisdom and friendship, and earnest
gratitude for the grave kindness of his conduct toward her since she
became an inmate of his house, had gradually displaced the fear and
aversion that formerly influenced her against him; and just now the
only comfort she could extract from any quarter arose from the
reflection that in every emergency Mr. Palma would protect her from
harm and insult, until he could place her under her mother's care.

Two years of daily association had taught her to appreciate the
sternness and tenacity of his purpose, and his stubborn iron will, so
often dreaded before, now became a source of consolation, a tower of
refuge to which in extremity she could retreat.

But if she were indeed the low-born girl that man had dared to
assert, and Mr. Palma should learn that he had been deceived, how
could she ever meet his coldly contemptuous eyes?

Some one tapped at the door, but she made no response, hoping she
might be considered asleep. Mrs. Palma came in, groping her way.

"Why have you not a light?"

"I did not need one. I only wanted to be quiet."

"Where are the matches?"

"On the mantlepiece."

Mrs. Palma lighted the gas, then came to the bed.

"Regina, are you ill, that you obstinately absent yourself when you
know there is company to din