With a quick unsteady motion Regina grasped and drained a goblet of iced-water, and after a little while the mist rolled away, and she heard once more the voices that had never for an instant ceased their utterances.

The shuttlecock of conversation was well kept up from all sides of the table, and when Regina’s thoughts crept back from their numbing reverie, Mr. Chesley was eloquently describing some of the most picturesque localities in Oregon and California.

Across the table floated a liquid response.

“I saw in Philadelphia a large painting of that particular spot, and though not remarkably well done, it enables one to form an approximate idea of the grandeur of the scenery.”

Mr. Chesley bowed to Mrs. Carew, and answered:  “I met the artist, while upon his sketching tour, and was deeply interested in his success.  At one time, I hoped he would cast matrimonial anchor in San Francisco, and remain among us; but his fickle fair one deserted him for a young naval officer, and after her marriage, California possessed few charms for him.  I pitied poor Eggleston most cordially.”

“Then permit me to assure you, that you are needlessly expending your sympathy, for I bear witness to the fact that his wounds have cicatrized.  A fair Philadelphian has touched them with her fairy finger, and at present he bows at another shrine.”

Shivering with sympathy for Olga, Regina could not refrain from looking at her, while Mrs. Carew spoke, and marvelled at the calm deference, the smiling insouciance with which her hazel eyes rested on the speaker.  Then they wandered as if accidentally to the countenance of Mr. Palma, and a lambent flame seemed to kindle in their brown depths.

“Mr. Eggleston has talent, and I am surprised that he has not been more successful,” replied the Congressman.

Mr. Palma was pressing Mrs. St. Clare to take more wine, and appeared deaf to the conversation, but Mrs. Carew’s flute-like voice responded: 

“Yes, a certain order of talent for mere landscape painting; but he should never attempt a higher or different style.  He made a wretched copy of the Crucifixion for a wealthy retired tailor, who boasts of his investments in ‘virtue and bigotry;’ and I fear I gave mortal offence by venturing to say to the owner, that it reminded me of the criticism of Luis de Vargas on a similar failure:  ’Methinks he is saying, Forgive them, Lord, for they know not what they do.’”

“A propos! of pictures.  Mrs. Carew, I must arrange to have you see a superb new painting recently hung upon the wall at the ‘Century,’ and ask your opinion of its merit——­”

Regina did not catch the remainder of her guardian’s sentence, which she felt assured was intended to divert the conversation and shield Olga, for just then Mr. Chesley asked to fill her glass, and the talk drifted away to less dangerous topics.

Irresistibly attracted by some subtle charm in his manner she found herself drawn into a pleasant dialogue with him relative to some startling incidents which he narrated of the early miners in the far West.  Watching his face, she puzzled her brain with the solution of the singular familiarity it possessed.  She had never met him until to-day, and yet her heart wanned toward him more and more.