For nearly a moment there was silence.

Mr. Palma dropped one of her hands, and his arm passed quickly around her shoulder, while his open palm pressed her head closer against him.

“Is my ward sure that if he wished to be more than a brother, she would never reciprocate, would never cherish a different feeling, a stronger affection?”

“He could never wish that.  He is so much older and wiser and better than I am; and looks on me only as a little sister.”

“Is superiority in years and wisdom the only obstacle you can imagine?”

“I have never thought of it at all until you spoke, and it is painful to me.  It seems disrespectful to connect such ideas as yours with the name of one whom I honour as my brother.”

He put his hand under her chin, turning her face to view despite her struggle to prevent it, and bending his head—­he did not kiss her!  Oh no!  Erle Palma had never kissed any one since his childhood; but for one instant his dark cheek was laid close to hers, with a tender caressing touch, that astonished her as completely as if one of the bronze statuettes on the console above her head had laughed aloud, and clapped its metallic hands.

“Henceforth the ‘disrespectful idea’ shall never be associated with the name of Mr. Douglass Lindsay, and in the future I warn you, there shall be none but a purely fraternal niche allowed him; moreover, it is not requisite that you should speak of him as ‘dear Douglass’ in order to assure me of your sisterly regard.  What I shall do with my unfortunate young cousin is not quite so transparent; for Elliott will not receive his rejection by proxy.”

He had withdrawn his arm, and released her hand, and rising she exclaimed impetuously: 

“Tell him that Regina Orme will never permit him to broach that subject; and tell him, too, that I am a waif, a girl over whose parentage hangs a shadow dark and chill as a pall.  Oh! tell him I want my mother, and an honourable unsullied name, and until I can find these I have no room in my mind or heart for a lover!”

As the events of the day, temporarily banished from her thoughts by the unexpected character of the interview, rushed back with renewed force and bitterness, the transient colour died out of her face, leaving it strangely wan and worn in aspect; and Mr. Palma saw now that purple shadows lay beneath the deep eyes, rendering them more than ever prophetic in their solemn mournful expression.

“What unusual occurrence has stimulated your interest and curiosity concerning your parentage?”

“It never slumbers.  It is the last thought at night, and the first when the day dawns.  It is a burden that is never lifted, that galls continually; and sometimes, as to-night, I feel that I cannot endure it much longer.”

“You must be patient, for awhile at least——­”

“Yes, I have heard that for ten long years, and I have been both patient and silent:  but the time has come when I can bear no more.  Anything positive, definite, susceptible of proof, no matter how distressing, would be more tolerable than this suspense, this maddening conjecture.  I will see my mother; I must know the truth, be it what it may!”