“Theresa, my poor Theresa, I have heard bad news, and I know not how best to tell it to you.”
He felt that he was blundering, and his heart smote him when her face blanched deathly white.
“My dear little girl,” he said, “come to my arms and let me hold you tight.”
“Oh, Harold, what is this that is coming upon us? Tell me that I am not to lose you!”
“Never, darling, never! You are the sweetest charge that man ever had. You shall never leave me, Theresa!”
“But this trouble—this bad news. Oh, Harold, do not torture me!” she sobbed.
“Theresa, cannot you guess? Your father is an old man and——”
“Ah! my father is ill! My poor, dear father. Let me go to him, Harold. Take me to him now.”
He led her to the chamber of the dead man, but paused at the door, saying:
“Theresa, he will never speak again. He died last night, and the doctor has already been here.”