the beauty and helpless innocence of the sleeper appealed with
unwonted power to his dormant sympathy, and, suspecting that lurking
spectres crouched in her future, he mutely entered into a compact
with his own soul, not to lose sight of, but to befriend her
faithfully, whenever circumstances demanded succour.

"Upon my word, she looks like a piece of Greek sculpture, and be her
father whom he may, there is no better blood than beats there at her
little dimpled wrists. The pencilling of the eyebrows is simply
perfect."

He spoke inaudibly, and just then she stirred and turned. As she
moved, something white fluttered from one of the ruffled pockets of
her apron, and fell to the floor. He picked it up and saw it was the
letter he had given her some hours before. The sheet was folded
loosely, and glancing at it, as it opened in his hand, he saw in
delicate characters: "Oh, my baby,--my darling! Be patient and trust
your mother." An irresistible impulse made him look up, and the
beautiful solemn eyes of the girl were fixed upon him, but instantly
her black lashes covered them.

For the first time in years he felt the flush of shame mount into his
cold haughty face, yet even then he noted the refined delicacy which
made her feign sleep.

"Regina."

She made no movement.

"Child, I know you are awake. Do you suppose I would stoop to read