t
looked a prayer for pity.

"The wires are not yet working fully, but probably messages will go
through during the day. Regina, try to be patient, and believe that
you shall learn the nature of Mrs. Lindsay's answer as soon as I
receive it. Tell Mrs. Palma I shall not come home to dine, have
pressing business at court, and cannot tell how long I may be
detained at my office. Good-bye. The despatch shall be sent to you
without delay."

He lifted his hat, closed the carriage door, and motioned to Farley
to drive home.

Locked in her own apartment Olga denied admittance to even her
mother, who improved the opportunity to answer a number of neglected
letters, and Regina was left to the seclusion of her room. As the day
wore slowly away, her restlessness increased, and she paced the floor
until her limbs trembled from weariness. Deliberately she recalled
all the incidents of the long residence at the parsonage, and strove
to live again the happy season, during which the young minister had
contributed so largely to her perfect contentment. The white pets
they had tended and caressed together, the books she had read with
him, the favourite passages he had italicized, the songs he loved
best, the flowers he laid upon her breakfast plate, and now and then
twined in her hair; above all, his loving persuasive tone, quiet
gentle words of affectionate counsel, and tender pet name for her,
"my white dove."

How fervent had been his prayer that when he returned, he might find
her "unspotted from the world." Was she? Could she bear to deceive
the brave loyal heart that trusted her so completely?

Once at church she had witnessed a marriage, heard the awfully solemn
vows that the bride registered in the sight of God, and to-day the
words flamed like the sword of the avenging angel, like a menace, a
challenge. Would Douglass take her for his wife, if he knew that Mr.
Palma had become dearer to her than all the world beside? Could she
deny that his voice and the touch of his hand on hers magnetized,
thrilled her, as no one else had power to do? She could think without
pain of Mr. Lindsay selecting some other lady and learning to love
her as his wife, forgetting the child Regina; but when she forced
herself to reflect that her guardian would soon be Mrs. Carew's
husband, the torture seemed unendurable.

Unlocking a drawer, she spread before her all the little souvenirs
Mr. Lindsay had given her. The faded flowers that once glowed