he peered cautiously at the face lying upon
the pillow, and was startled to find the eyes wide open. Trembling
with anxiety she said:

"Are you not better? You have slept long and soundly."

Mournfully the hazel eyes looked at her, and the dry brown lips
quivered.

"I have been awake some time."

"Before your mother left?"

"Yes."

"Dear Olga, is your mind quite clear again?"

"Terribly clear. I suppose I have been delirious?"

"Yes, you have known none of us for five days. Here, drink this, the
doctor said you must have it the instant you waked."

"To keep me from dying? Why should I live? I remember everything so
vividly, and while custom made you all try to save me, you are
obliged to know it would have been better, more kind and merciful, to
have let me die at once. Give me some water."

After some seconds, she wearily put her hand to her head, and a
ghostly smile hovered over her mouth.

"All my hair cut off? No matter now, Belmont will never see me again,
and I only cared for my glossy locks because he was so proud of them.
Poor darling."

She groaned, knitted her brows, and shut her eyes; and though she did
not speak again, Regina knew that she lay wrestling with bitter
memories. When her mother came back, she turned her face toward the
wall, and Mrs. Palma eagerly exclaimed:

"My darling, do you know me? Kiss your mother."

Olga only covered her face with her hands and said wearily:

"Don't touch me yet, mamma. You have broken my heart."

At the expiration of the fifth day of convalescence, Olga was wrapped
in warm shawls and placed on the couch, which had been drawn near the
grate where a bright fire burned. Thin and wan, she lay back on the
cushions and pillows, with her wasted hands drooping listlessly
beside her. Moody, and taciturn, she refused all aid from any but
Regina, and mercilessly exacted her continual presence. By day the
latter waited upon and read to her; by night she rested on the same
bed, where the unhappy woman remained for hours awake, and
inconsolable, dwelling persistently upon her luckless fate. At Mrs.
Palma's suggestion her stepson had not visited the sick-room since
the recovery of Olga's consciousness; and being closely confined to
the limits of the apartment, Regina had not seen her guardian for
several days. About three o'clock in the afternoon, when she had
finished brushing the short tangled hair that clung in auburn rings
around the invalid's forehead, Olga