“You have no child? Then it must have been you he meant. He spoke of you as a child more than once.”
“Mr. Falcon, I have a child; but born since I lost my poor child's father.”
“Then I think he knew it. They say that dying men can see all over the world: and I remember, when he said it, his eyes seemed fixed very strangely, as if on something distant. Oh, how wonderful all this is. May I see his child, to whom I promised”—
The artist in lies left his sentence half completed.
Rosa rang, and sent for her little boy.
Mr. Falcon admired his beauty, and said quietly, “I shall keep my vow.”
He then left her, with a promise to come back early next morning with the letter.
She let him go only on those conditions.
As soon as her father came in, she ran to him with this strange story.
“I don't believe it,” said he. “It is impossible.”