"Mr. Palma, do you want to throw her back into delirium by this cruel excitement? Do go away, and leave us in peace." "She will feel far happier after a little while, and tears will ease her heart. Olga, you have not yet given me your promise." "Be patient! Some day you will learn perhaps that though the idol you worshipped so long has fallen from the niche where you set it, even the dust is sacred; and you want no strange touch to defile it. Oh the love, the confidence, the idolatry--I have so lavishly squandered! Because it was wasted, and all--all is lost, can I mourn the less?" "At least give me your promise to wait two years, to follow my advice, to accede to my plan for your future." He wiped the tears from her cheek, and after some hesitation she said brokenly: "How can you care at all what becomes of me? But since you have saved me from Mr. Congreve, and contrived to conceal the traces of my disguise and flight from Albany, I owe you something, owe something to your family pride. I will think over all you wish, and perhaps after a time, I can see things in a different light. Now--all is dark, ruined--utterly----" She wept passionately, hiding her face in her hands; and rising, Mr. Palma placed some open letters on the chair beside her. He walked to the window, opened and read the telegram, and Regina saw a heavy frown darken his brow. As if pondering the contents, he stood for more than a minute, then went to the door, and said from the threshold: "The papers, Olga, are intended for no eye but yours. In reviewing the past, judge me leniently, for had you been born my own sister I should have no deeper interest in your welfare. Henceforth try to trust me as your brother, and I will forgive gladly all your unjust bitterness and aspersion." He disappeared, and almost simultaneously Mrs. Palma came back and kissed her daughter's forehead. With a low piteous wail, Olga threw her white hands up about her mother's neck, and sobbed: "Oh, mamma! mamma! take me to your heart! Pity me!" CHAPTER XXVIII. Since the night of Olga's return, Regina had taken her meals in the sick-room, gladly availing herself of any pretext for avoiding the dreadful _tete-a-tete_ breakfasts. On the morning after the painful interview between Olga and Mr. Palma, the former desired to remove into her own apartment, and the easy chair in which she sat was wheeled carefully to the hearth in her room. "Come close to me, dear child." Olga held her companion for some seconds in a tight embrace, then kissed her cheek and forehead. "Patient, true little friend; you saved me from destruction. How worn and white you look, and I have robbed you so long of sleep! When I am stronger, I want to talk to you; but to-day I must be alone, must spend it among my dead hopes, sealing the sepulchres. Jean Ingelow tells us of 'a Dead Year' 'cased in cedar, and shut in a sacred gloom;' but I have seven to shroud and bury; and will the day ever dawn when I can truly say: