o him than ever. On the second morning
after the visit to the Zoological Gardens, her fortitude had been
severely tried. She had found the telegram under her pillow, enclosed in
a farewell letter. Teresa had gone.

"My Carmina,--I have kissed you, and cried over you, and I am writing
good-bye as well as my poor eyes will let me. Oh, my heart's darling, I
cannot be cruel enough to wake you, and see you suffer! Forgive me for
going away, with only this dumb farewell. I am so fond of you--that is
my only excuse. While he still lives, my helpless old man has his claim
on me. Write by every post, and trust me to write back--and remember
what I said when I spoke of Ovid. Love the good man who loves _you;_ and
try to make the best of the others. They cannot surely be cruel to the
poor angel who depends on their kindness. Oh, how hard life is--"

The paper was blotted, and the rest was illegible.

The miserable day of Teresa's departure was passed by Carmina in the
solitude of her room: gently and firmly, she refused to see anyone. This
strange conduct added to Mrs. Gallilee's anxieties. Already absorbed in
considering Ovid's obstinacy, and the means of overcoming it, she was
now confronted by a resolute side in the character of her niece, which
took her by surprise. There might be difficulties to come, in managing
Carmina, which she had not foreseen. Meanwhile, she was left to act on
her own unaided discretion in the serious matter of her son's failing
health. Benjulia had refused to help her; he was too closely occupied
in his laboratory to pay or receive visits. "I have already given my
advice" (the doctor wrote). "Send him away. When he has had a month's
change, let me see his letters; and then, if I have anything more to
say, I will tell you what I think of your son."

Left in this position, Mrs. Gallilee's hard self-denial yielded to the
one sound conclusion that lay before her. The only influence that could
be now used over Ovid, with the smallest chance of success, was the
influence of Carmina. Three days after Teresa's departure, she invited
her niece to take tea in her own boudoir. Carmina found her reading. "A
charming book," she said, as she laid it down, "on a most interesting
subject, Geographical Botany. The author divides the earth into
twenty-five botanical regions--but, I forget; you are not like Maria;
you don't care about these things."

"I am so ignorant," Carmina pleaded. "Perhaps, I may know better wh