upon it, ere he could
snatch it away.

"God grant that hour may come speedily."

"Amen, Lily. You look strangely worn and ill; and your eyes are
distressingly elfish and shadowy. Go to sleep, little girl, and
forget that you forced me to be stem and harsh. Remember that your
guardian, in defiance of his judgment, trusts you fully--entirely."

He turned quickly and quitted the library before she could reply,
and soon after, hearing the street door close, she knew he had gone
to Mrs. Tarrant's.

CHAPTER XXII.

The letter which Regina wrote that night was earnest, almost
passionate, in its appeal that she might be permitted to join her
mother; yet no hint of the _bete noire_ of the square darkened its
contents, for the writer felt that only face to face, eye to eye,
could she ask her mother that fearful question, upon which all her
future peace depended.

Having sealed and addressed the envelope, she extinguished the light,
and tried to find in sleep that blessed oblivion which nature
mercifully provides for aching hearts and heavily laden brains; but
about three o'clock she heard the carriage at the front door, the
voices of the trio ascending the stairs, and once a ringing
triumphant laugh which was peculiarly Olga's, then all grew still in
the house, and quiet in the street.

Unable to compose herself, tossing restlessly on her bed, with hot
throbbing temples and a sore heart Regina wearily listened for the
low silvery strokes of the clock, and when it announced half-past
three she began to long for daylight.

Suddenly, although warned by not even the faintest sound, she became
aware that she was not alone; that a human being was breathing the
same atmosphere. Starting into a sitting posture she exclaimed:

"Who is there?"

"Hush! I am no burglar. Don't make a noise."

Simultaneously she heard the stroke of a match, and a small wax taper
was lighted and held high over Olga's head, showing her tall form
enveloped in a cherry-coloured dressing-gown and shawl. Stepping
cautiously across the floor, she lighted one of the gas burners,
placed the taper on the bureau, and came to the bedside.

"Make room for me. I am cold, my feet are like ice."

"What is the matter? Has anything happened?"

"Nothing particularly new or strange. Something happens every hour,
you know; people are born, bartered--die and are buried; lives get
blackened and hearts bleed and are trampled by human hoofs, until
they are