Regina's eager survey showed her only a gentleman, sitting close to
the grating, and an expression of keen disappointment swept over her
countenance, which had been a moment before eloquent with expectation
of meeting her mother.

"Come here, Regina, and speak to Mr. Palma," said the soft, velvet
voice behind the lattice.

The visitor turned around, rose, and watched the slowly advancing
figure.

She was dressed in blue muslin, the front of which was concealed by
her white bib-apron, and her abundant glossy hair was brushed
straight back from her brow, confined at the top of her head by a
blue ribbon, and thence fell in shining waves below her waist. One
hand hung listlessly at her side, the other clasped the drooping lily
and held it against her heart.

The slightly curious expression of the stranger gave place to
astonishment and involuntary admiration as he critically inspected
the face and form; and, fixing her clear, earnest eyes on him, Regina
saw a tall, commanding man of certainly not less than thirty years,
with a noble massive head, calm pale features almost stern when in
repose, and remarkably brilliant piercing black eyes, that were
doubtless somewhat magnified by the delicate steel-rimmed spectacles
he habitually wore. His closely cut hair clustered in short thick
waves about his prominent forehead, which in pallid smoothness
resembled a slab of marble, and where a slight depression usually
marks the temples his swelled boldly out, rounding the entire outline
of the splendidly developed brow. He wore neither moustache nor