The day though cold was very bright, and he partly lowered the silk curtains to shut out the glare of the sun.  For a half-hour they rolled along the magnificent Avenue, and only casual observations upon weather, passing equipages, and similar trivial topics, afforded Regina time to compose her perturbed thoughts.  With his overcoat buttoned tight across his broad chest, and hat drawn a little low on his brow, Mr. Palma sat, holding his gloved fingers interlaced; and his brilliant eyes rested now and then very searching upon the face at his side, which was almost as white as the snowy fur sack that enveloped her.

“What is the matter with your cheek?” he said at length.

“Why do you ask?” She instantly shielded it with her hand.

“It has a slightly bluish, bruised appearance.”

“It is of no consequence, and will soon disappear.”

“Olga must indeed have struck you a heavy blow, to leave a mark that lingers so long.  She told me how desperately you wrestled to stay her suicidal course, and as a family we owe you much for your firm brave resistance.”

“I am sorry she has betrayed what passed.  I hoped you would never suspect the distressing facts.”

“When a girl deliberately defies parental wishes and counsel, and scorns the advice and expostulation of those whom experience has taught something of life and the world, her fate sooner or later is sad as Olga’s.  A foolish caprice which young ladies invariably denominate ‘love,’ but which is generally merely flattered vanity, not unfrequently wrecks a woman’s entire life; and though Olga will rally after a time, she cannot forget this humiliating episode, which has blighted the brightest epoch of her existence.  Her rash, blind obstinacy has cost her very dear.  Here, let us go out; I want you to walk awhile.”

They had entered the Park, and, ordering the driver to await them at a specified spot, Mr. Palma turned into the Ramble.  For some moments they walked in silence, and finally he pointed to a rustic seat somewhat secluded, and beyond the observation of the few persons strolling through the grounds.  Regina sat with her muff in her lap, and her bare hands nervously toying with her white silk tassel.  Her guardian noticed the tremulousness of her lip, and at that moment the sun, smiting the ring on her finger, kindled the tiny diamonds into a circle of fire.  Mr. Palma drew off his gloves, put them in his pocket, and just touched the opal, saying coldly: 

“Is that a recent gift from your mother?  I never saw you wear it until the night you bathed poor Olga’s forehead.”

“No, sir.”

Involuntarily she laid her palm over the jewels that was beginning to grow odious in her own sight.

“May I inquire how long it has been in your possession?”

“Since before I left the parsonage.  I had it when I came to New York.”

“Why then have you never worn it?”