He sat speechless, staring at her in blank, appalled silence. In some fashion, although it was a far-distant relationship, this girl was akin to him, but--he was one of those who believed in her mother’s guilt. It made his heart freeze to her child. “May I stay?” she repeated, in a pathetic voice, seconded by great, appealing dark eyes. “Miss Vale, I must consult my mother first,” he answered bruskly, in spite of himself, and hurriedly left the room. Italy waited, her slender hands locked together in her lap, her dark eyes gazing through the windows at the restless sea, her face pale, her lips compressed in a scarlet line. Her kinsman’s cold manner had chilled her like ice. She waited a long time, it seemed to her, then the door opened softly and a woman came in--a woman of fifty, with the traces of former beauty still remaining, tall, slight, and _distingué_ as a duchess. She held out an aristocratic hand sparkling with gems. “So you are Ronald Vale’s daughter? Welcome to The Lodge,” she said courteously, but with a frosty tone that did not escape Italy’s sensitive hearing. But she bowed with as thoroughbred an air as madam’s own, and presented the tips of her small, cold fingers. “My son has told me,” continued the sweet, chilly voice, “that your mother is dead, leaving you alone and friendless in the world. You were right to come to us. Your father was my cousin, although a very distant one. I was a Vale before my marriage. You resemble your father very much.” With those few words Italy Vale was received as a member of the Murray family. There was no attempt at cordiality, no exuberant welcome. She understood clearly that, inasmuch as she had thrust herself upon the Murrays, they accepted the unwelcome charge through a sense of duty, mixed with highbred courtesy. Soon she stood alone in the luxurious guest-chamber Mrs. Murray had assigned her after promising to have her small amount of luggage brought from the station at once. Mrs. Murray herself showed Italy her room, and, lingering a moment, said: “We have some Boston friends staying in the house--the Misses Audenreid, Alys and Alexie, twin sisters, and their aunt, a young widow--also two young men, Ralph Allen and Emmett Harlow. They are all very pleasant people, and I hope you will get on with them. I will go now and send my maid to assist you.” The door closed, and Italy was alone with her own thoughts. “It was easy--so far!” she mused. “God grant me success in my mission!” then the dark eyes suddenly dimmed. “But, oh, how I miss you, my dearest one,” she sighed. Down-stairs there was a little flutter of excitement among the guests, who had learned from Mrs. Murray of the advent of the orphan girl, who would from henceforth be a member of the household. Alexie Audenreid and Ralph Allen laughed, but Alys frowned at the news. It was an open secret to all that Alys was setting her cap at the master of the house, and that she was jealous of every possible rival.