“My little girl, have you too deceived and forsaken your unfortunate mother?”

She broke away from her lover’s clasp, and threw her arms around her mother’s neck.

Pressing her tightly to her heart, Mrs. Laurance turned to Mr. Palma, and said sternly: 

“Is there indeed no such thing as honour left among men?  You who knew so well my loneliness and affliction—­you, sir, to whom I trusted my little lamb—­have tried to rob me of the only treasure I thought I possessed, the only comfort left to gladden my sunless life!  You have tried to steal my child’s heart, to win her from me.”

“No, mother, he never let me know, and I never dreamed that—­that he cared at all for me until this morning.  He did not betray your trust, even for——­”

“Let Mr. Palma plead his own defence, if he can; look you to yours,” answered her mother, coldly.

“It is much sweeter from her lips, and you, my dear madam, are very cruel to deny me the pleasure of hearing it.  Lily, my darling, go away a little while, not far, where I can easily find you, and let me talk to your mother.  If I fail to satisfy her fully on all points, I shall never ask at her hands the precious boon I came here solely to solicit.”

He took her hand, drew her from the arms that reluctantly relaxed, and when they reached the threshold smiled down into her eyes.  Lifting her fingers, he kissed them lightly, and closed the door.

What ailed the birds that trilled their passionate strains so joyously as she ran down the garden walk, and into the rose-arbour?  Had clouds and shadows flown for ever from the world, leaving only heavenly sunshine and Mr. Palma?

“I wonder if there be indeed a quiet spot on earth where I can hide; a sacred refuge, where neither nightingale nor human lovers will vex my soul, or again disturb my peace with their eternal madrigals?”

She had not seen her uncle, who was sitting in one corner, clumsily tying up some roses which he intended for a birthday offering to his niece.

At the sound of his quiet voice, Regina started up.

“Oh, Uncle Orme!  I did not see you.  Pray excuse me.  I will not disturb you.”

She was hurrying away, but he caught her dress.

“My dear, are you threatened with ophthalmia, that you cannot see a man three yards distant, who measures six feet two inches?  Certainly I excuse you.  A man who is kept awake all night by one set of love ditties, dragged out of his bed before sunrise, and after taking exercise and a bath that render him as hungry as a Modoc cut off from his lava-beds, is expected and forced to hold his famished frame in peace, while a pair of human lovers exhaust the vocabulary of cooing that man can patiently excuse much.  Sit down, my dear girl.  Because my beard is grey, and crow-feet gather about my eyes, do you suppose the old man’s heart cannot sympathize with the happiness that throbs in yours, and that renews very sacredly the one sweet love-dream of his own long-buried youth?  I know, dear; you need not try to tell me, need not blush so painfully.  Mr. Palma reached Como last evening; I knew he was coming, and saw him early this morning.  I can guess it all, and I am very glad.  God bless you, dear child.  Only be sure you tell Palma that we allow no lovers in our ideal home.”