"My father," the words made Von Barwig's heart sink. "My father!"
She sat down at the piano; he raised the lamp and looked into her eyes, and as he stood there with the lamp uplifted she looked into his face.
"Of whom do you remind me?" she said quickly. "Don't move——"
There was a deep silence. The old man could hear his heart beat.
"Of whom, of whom?" he gasped. "Go on; tell me! Try to remember! For God's sake try to remember!"
"There, now, it's gone!" she said. "I can't think," she added after a pause, greatly surprised at his look. "You know somehow or other I always feel at home with musicians. What a busy little studio this is," she went on, looking around. "You're quite successful, aren't you?"
Von Barwig nodded.
"It must be very gratifying to earn a lot of money through your own efforts; not for the mere money, but for the success. I'm glad you're successful!" she said with such feeling that it surprised even herself.
"Why?" asked Von Barwig. "Why are you glad?"
"I don't know. I suppose—" she paused. She did not like to say it was because she had thought he was very poor and was delighted to find that he was not; so she said it was because of his kindness to the boy, "and because I—I love music," she added.