A Little Protestant in Rome by Eglanton Thorne

A Burdened Heart.

"MADEMOISELLE GRAND has gone away," said Janet the next morning, as she was brushing Paul's hair.

"Has she? Gone already! " exclaimed Paul. "And Fritz too! Oh, I am sorry! I did want to say good-bye to them before they went."

"She left the hotel at seven o'clock," said his nurse. "Did you know she was going away?"

"Yes, I knew," said Paul, with a nod. "She has gone home to her father."

"Oh, really! " said nurse.

"Yes, and I'm glad she has gone, though I wish I had said good-bye to her," said Paul. "Nurse, how is it that I haven't got a father? All other children have."

"You are mistaken, Master Paul. There are many poor little children whose fathers are dead."

"Is my father dead? " asked Paul.

Janet made no reply, but pursed up her lips as if she never meant to open them again. When Paul persisted in putting his question she told him to be quiet, and not to worry her. But Paul's desire to obtain information was not to be quenched by a single rebuff. When Janet refused to answer him, he said to himself that she did not know. He waited till later in the day, when he was alone with his mother in her room, and then put the question to her.

"Is my father dead? " he asked, looking up into his mother's face with his open, appealing gaze.

She started nervously as he spoke. "What do you mean, Paul? What makes you ask me that?"

"People are always asking me," he said. "That lady in the green frock asked me yesterday, and when I said that I had never had a father, she laughed, and said I 'must' have had one; but if I did not know anything about him, she supposed he was dead. Is he dead, mother?"

Mrs. Bernard opened her lips to speak hastily, but as she met her boy's earnest, innocent eyes, she paused. She could not speak falsely to Paul.

"No, he is not dead, Paul," she said slowly; "but dead to me-dead to me."

"Not dead! " said Paul eagerly. "Then shall I see him some day, mother?"

"Perhaps," she said faintly. He little knew how he pierced her heart by the question. "But I cannot talk about it, Paul, nor must you."

"Why not? " he protested. "I want to hear about my father. I am so glad that I have one. Marie's father gives her chocolates and carries her on his shoulder. When shall I see him, mother?"

"I cannot tell, Paul. Now, you are not to talk any more; you make my head ache. Run away to Janet; I am going out."

Mrs. Bernard's hands trembled as she arranged before her mirror the large velvet picture hat which set off her beauty so admirably. It seemed to her that her face had suddenly grown white and haggard. Paul saw no change in it, however.