"Our Angel Mother," replied the girl.
"She had a name, little one." His voice was not unkindly. The answer to his question--"Angel Mother"--had touched him. He once had a mother, the memory of whom still remained with him as a softening if not a purifying influence. It is the one word in all the languages which ranks nearest to God. "What was hers?"
"Don't you know? Everybody knows. Doctor Louis's wife."
"Doctor Louis's wife!" he muttered. "And I had a message for her!" Then he said aloud, "Dead, eh?"
"Dead," said the little girl mournfully.
"And you are sorry?"
"Everybody is sorry."
"Ah," thought the man, "it bears out what he said." Again, aloud: "That gentleman yonder, is he Doctor Louis?"
"Yes."
"The priest--his name is Father Daniel, isn't it?"