to the ground and the girl moaned and bowed
her face in her hands. He waited some minutes, and with a sob she
said:

"Oh, let me go to him! It might be a comfort to him, and if he should
die? Oh, do let me go!"

"Do you think your mother would consent to your taking so grave a
step?"

"I do not know, but she would not blame me when she learned the
circumstances. If I waited to consult her he might--oh! we are
wasting time! Mr. Palma, pity me! Send me to him--to the friend who
loves me so truly, so devotedly!"

She started up and wrung her hands, as imagination pictured the noble
friend ill, perhaps dying, and longing to see her.

"Regina, compose yourself. That telegram has been delayed by an
unprecedented fall of snow that interrupts the operation of the
wires, and it is dated three days ago. Last night I telegraphed to
learn Mr. Lindsay's condition, but up to the time of our leaving
home, the wires were not working through to San Francisco; and the
trains on the Union Pacific are completely snowbound. The agent told
me this morning that it was uncertain when the cars would run
through, as the track is blocked up. Until we ascertain something
definite let me advise you to withhold your letter, enclosing his;
for I ought to tell you that I am daily expecting a summons to send
you to Europe. Come, walk with me and try to be patient."

He offered her his arm, and they walked for some time in profound
silence. At last she exclaimed passionately:

"Please let me go home. I want to be alone."

They finally reached the carriage, and Mr. Palma gave the coachman
directions to drive to the telegraph office. During the ride Regina
leaned back, with her face pressed against the silken curtain on the
side, and her eyes closed. Her companion could see the regular
chiselled profile, so delicate and yet so firm, and as he studied the
curves of her beautiful mouth, he realized that she had fully
resolved to fulfil her promise; that at any cost of personal
suffering she would grant the prayer of the devoted young minister.

Scientists tell us that "there are in the mineral world certain
crystals, certain forms, for instance of fluor-spar, which have lain
darkly in the earth for ages, but which nevertheless have a potency
of light locked up within them. In their case the potential has never
become actual, the light is, in fact, held back by a molecular
detent. When these crystals are warmed, the detent is lifted, and an
outf