In every possible way she endeavoured to capture her approval. She worked in the garden, she mended, and made, and darned and trimmed. She was prepared to accept cheerfully this life of renunciation and self-denial; but oh! how dark and dreary it would be without a little love. Her mother was devoted to Dominga; her eyes and voice seemed different when she spoke to her. Why should she not venture to ask for some crumbs; she, too, was her mother's daughter? Though not naturally demonstrative, she one day astonished and exasperated Mrs. Chandos by clinging to her with tears as she begged her "to spare her--though she came so late--a little of the affection she gave to the others; it would make her _so_ happy." Mrs. Chandos, when she had recovered from her surprise, stared critically at her daughter and exclaimed, "My, what a funny girl! Why, of course I love you!" and she accorded her a hasty kiss. "You get lots of love; your Nani is awfully fond of you--so is Pussy; so am I. No!" But yet, in spite of this declaration, Verona felt that between her and her mother was fixed a gulf, which widened daily; indeed, she still had the dreadful, secret conviction that her mother actually disliked her. But why? Sometimes, her father was ill--so said Mrs. Lopez; sometimes for three or four evenings his door would be shut fast, and the old lady would assure her, with a potent nod, that "Chandos was not for reading; he was _fatigued_, he was 'a little seek,' and wanted to be quiet," and once the girl overheard her mutter, "Truly, it is easier to be rid of your shadow, than a bad habit." Poor man! he was in the grip of the opium fiend, and lived in a delightful dream-country in his arm-chair, with drowsy eyes and folded, wasted hands. After one of these attacks, Verona noticed that his features were haggard, his eyes dull and bloodshot, his spirits most desperately depressed; also, that all tender inquiries and expressions of sympathy were somewhat curtly set aside. It was now the very height of the cold season. Rajahpore was full, the cane crop was being cut, and every one seemed busy. One day Mrs. Lepell sent her protégée a little note, which said: "MY DEAR VERONA,-- "Would you care to go over the factory? I am expecting a party this afternoon, and Tom has promised to show them round the works. Manora people are sick of them, but it will be a novelty to you. "E. L." Verona accepted the invitation with pleasure, and when she arrived at the big bungalow there found assembled Major Gale, Major and Mrs. Barwell, Mr. Salwey and various strangers from Rajahpore. Mr. Lepell personally conducted the party round the yards; here he pointed out the great carts, laden with sugar-cane, just brought in by buffaloes. "Now, here you see it at the start," he said. "Later on, you shall see it in the sugar bowl."