ome
impending storm.

"If you love your mother, and she loves you, run away now and join
her, before the chains are tightened. Your guardian is setting
snares; little white rabbit, flee for your life, while escape is
possible."

She floated away like some dazzling gilded cloud, and a moment later
her peculiarly light merry laugh rang through the hall below, as she
ran down to join her mother.

CHAPTER XXI.

Unable to throw off the load of painful apprehension that weighed so
heavily on her heart, Regina derived some consolation from the
reflection that she was entirely alone in the house, and could at
least escape scrutiny and curious criticism; for she hoped that Mr.
Palma, forgetting her, would go directly from his office to Mrs.
Tarrant's, allowing her a reprieve until morning. During the second
year of her residence beneath his roof, she had at his request taken
her breakfast with him, sitting at the head of the table, where Mrs.
Palma presided at all other times. Olga and her mother generally
slept quite late, and consequently Regina now looked forward with
dread to the _tete-a-tete_ awaiting her next morning.

A few days subsequent to the Sunday afternoon on which her guardian
had so unexpectedly accompanied her to church, she had been
pleasantly surprised by finding in the library a handsome Mason &
Hamlin parlour organ; on which lay a slip of paper, expressing Mr.
Palma's desire that she would consider it exclusively hers, and
sometimes play upon it for him. But an unconquerable timidity and
repugnance to using the instrument when he was at home had prevented
a compliance with the request, which was never repeated.

To-night the thought of the organ brought dear and comforting
memories, and feeling quite secure from intrusion she went down to
the library. As usual the room was bright and comfortable as gas and
anthracite could make it, and failing to observe a sudden movement of
the curtains hanging over the recess behind the writing-desk, Regina
entered, closed the door and walked up to the glowing grate.

Beneath her mother's portrait sat the customary floral offering,
which on this occasion consisted of double white and blue violets,
and standing awhile on the hearth, the girl gazed up at the picture
with mournful, longing tenderness. Could that proud lovely face ever
have owned as husband, the coarser, meaner, and degraded clay, who
that afternoon had dared with sacrilegious presumption to