Standing upon the rug, and immediately in front of her, he spoke with cool indifference, and though the words seemed to her a cruel mockery they proved a powerful tonic, bringing the grim comfort that at least her presumptuous madness was not suspected.

“I had very little conversation with Mr. Roscoe, as I declined to renew the discussion of a topic which was painful and embarrassing to me, and I fear I have entirely forfeited his friendship.”

“Then after mature deliberation you still peremptorily refuse to become more closely related to me?  Once there appeared a rosy possibility that you might one day call me cousin.”

With a sudden resolution she looked straight at him for the first time since his entrance, and answered quietly: 

“You will be my kind faithful guardian a little while longer, until I can hear from mother; but we shall never be any more closely related.”

The reply was not exactly what he expected and desired; but with his chill, out-door conventional smile he added: 

“Poor Roscoe! his heart frequently outstrips his reason.”

Looking at him, she felt assured that no one could ever justly make that charge against him; and unwilling to prolong the interview, she rose.

“Pardon me, if, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, I detain you a few minutes from your Undine dreams.  Be so good as to resume your seat.”

There was an ominous pause, and reluctantly she was forced to look up.

He was regarding her very sternly, and as his eyes caught and held hers he put his fingers in his vest pocket, drawing therefrom a narrow strip of paper, folded carefully.  Holding it out, he asked: 

“Did you ever see this?”

Before she opened it she knew it contained the address she had given to Peleg Peterson on Tuesday, and a shiver crept over her.  Mechanically glancing at it, she sighed; a sigh that was almost a moan.

“Regina, have the courtesy to answer my question.”

“Of course I have seen it before.  You know it is my handwriting.”

“Did you furnish that address with the expectation of conducting a clandestine correspondence?”

An increasing pallor overspread her features, but in a very firm decided voice, she replied: 

“Yes sir.”

“Knowing that your legal guardian would forbid such an interchange of letters, you directed them enclosed under cover to Mrs. Mason?”

“I did.”

The slip of paper fluttered to the floor, and her fingers locked each other.

“A gentleman picked up that scrap of paper, in one of the squares located far up town, and recognizing the name of my ward, very discreetly placed it in the possession of her guardian.”

“Mr. Palma, were you not in a carriage at that square on Tuesday?”

“I was not.  My time is rather too valuable to be wasted in a rendezvous at out-of-the-way squares while a snowstorm is in full blast.  What possible attraction do you imagine such folly could offer me?”