anything but her own liking,
it has always been so. And if--she could once--begin to care--" The
short sentences, which had been eager, now grew fainter, stopped; the
head sank back upon the pillows again. "If she were to be with you,
Margaret, she would have--more opportunity--to begin."

"About that I could promise nothing," said Margaret, with decision. "I
could take no step to influence Garda in that way."

"I don't ask you to. I myself wouldn't _do_ anything, that would be
wrong; on such subjects all must be left to a Higher Power," replied
Mrs. Thorne, with conviction. For, in spite of her efforts to be Thorne
and Duero, she had never departed a hair's-breadth from her American
belief in complete liberty of personal choice in marriage. Love, real
love, was a feeling heaven-born, heaven-directed; it behooved no one to
meddle with it, not even a mother. "I could never scheme in that way,"
she went on, "I only wanted you to know all my thoughts. The great thing
with me, of course, is that she is to be in your charge."

Here the door at the other end of the large room opened, and Dr. Kirby
came in; he had returned as soon as possible, putting off all other
engagements. "You look better," he said to his patient, with his hand on
her pulse. "Come, this is doing well."

"I am better," murmured Mrs. Thorne, looking gratefully at Margaret.
Mrs. Carew soon followed the Doctor; Margaret went down to the garden to
find Garda, the girl who was to become so unexpectedly her charge. For
she shared the mother's feeling; the illness might advance slowly, but
it would conquer in the end.

Garda was in the garden, lying at full length under the great rose-tree,
on a shawl which she had spread upon the ground; her hands were clasped
under her head, and she was gazing up into the sky. Carlos, standing
near, with his neck acutely arched, his breast puffed out and his beak
thrust in among the feathers, looked like a gentleman of the old school
in a ruffled shirt, with his hand in the breast of his coat.

"Does mamma want me?" asked Garda, as Margaret came up.

"Dr. Kirby and Mrs. Carew are there. No, I do not think she wants you at
present."

"Come down on the shawl, then, and look up into the sky," pursued Garda.
"I've never tried it before--looking straight up in this way--and I
assure you I can see miles!"

"I'm not such a sun-worshipper as you are," answered Margaret, taking a
seat on the bench in the shade.

"The sun's