“Does my uncle continue to teach her?”

“Yes, and I think it is one of his greatest pleasures.  She is ambitious and studious, and Peyton is never too weary to explain whatever puzzles her.  She is exceedingly fond of him, and he said last week that she was his ‘Jabez;’ he had received her so reluctantly, and she proved such a comfort and blessing?”

“I presume her mother writes to her occasionally?”

“Regularly every fortnight she receives a letter.  Sometimes for days after Regina looks perplexed and sorrowful, but she never divulges the contents.  Once, about two months ago, I found her lying on the rug in her own room, with her face in her hands, and her mother’s last letter beside her.  I asked if she had received any bad news, for I knew she was crying in her quiet way, and she looked up, and said in a tone that was really piteous:  ’There is nothing new.  It is always the same old thing!—­she does not know yet when she can come, and I must be good and patient.  Oh, Mrs. Lindsay!  I am so hungry to see my mother!  When I look at her picture, I feel as if I would be willing to die if I could only kiss her, and hear her say once more, “My baby!  My darling!” Last night I dreamed she took me in her arms and hugged me tight, and looked at me as she used to do when she came to the convent, and said, “Papa’s own baby!  Papa’s poor stray lamb!” Mrs. Lindsay, when I waked I had the pillow in my arms, and was kissing it.’  Now, Douglass, it is a great mystery how a mother could voluntarily separate herself from such a child as Regina.  I asked her to show me the picture, and she cried a good deal, and said:  ’I have often wished to show it to you, but she says I must let no one see it.  Oh! she is so beautiful!  Lovelier than the Madonnas in the Chapels; only she always has tears in her eyes.  I never saw her when she did not weep.  Mrs. Lindsay, help me to be good, teach me to be smart in everything, that I may be some comfort to my mother.’  The saddest feature in the whole affair is, that Regina begins to suspect there is some discreditable mystery about her mother and herself; but Peyton says it is marvellous how delicately she treats the subject.  She came home one day from Sunday school and told him that Mrs. Prudence asked her in the presence, of her class how her mother could afford to dress her in such costly clothes; and whether she had ever seen her father?  Peyton wished to know what reply she made, and she said her answer was:  ’Mrs. Potter, if I were you and you were Regina Orme, I think I would have my tongue cut out, before it should ask you such questions.’  Then Peyton told me she looked at him as if she were reading his secret soul, and added; ’It is hard not to understand everything, but I will be patient, for mother writes that some day I shall know all; and no matter what people say—­no matter how strange things may seem—­I will believe in my mother, as I believe in God!’ Most girls of her age would