She was very white, but her face was firm, and the fidelity of her purpose was printed in her sad eyes.
"God bless my sweet, faithful, trusting child!"
Mrs. Laurance could not restrain her tears, and Mr. Palma shaded his eyes with his hand.
"My little girl, make your choice. Decide between us."
She moved a few steps, as if to free herself, but in rain; Regina's arms tightened around her.
"Between you? Oh no, I cannot. Both are too dear."
"To whom does your heart cling most closely?"
"Mother, ask me no more. There is my hand. If you can consent to give it to him. I shall be—oh, how happy! If it would grieve you too much, then, mother, hold it, keep it. I will never murmur or complain, for now, knowing that he loves me, I can bear almost anything."
Tears were streaming down the mother's cheeks, and pressing her lips to the white mournful face of her daughter she beckoned Mr. Palma to her side. For a moment she hesitated, held up the fair fingers and kissed them, then as if distrusting herself, quickly laid the little hand in his.
"Take my darling; and remember that she is the most precious gift a miserable mother ever yielded up."