“Tell me about him. Was not his father very fond of him?”
“Fond! I never saw a man idolize his child so much. It was only need—the hardest need that made them part.”
“How—need? You do not mean poverty?” said she, somewhat awe-struck.
“Oh, no! Moral necessity. I do not know the reason. I have never asked. But I know it was like a death-blow.”
“Ah!” said she, and with a sudden movement removed her mask, as if she felt it stifling her, and looked me in the face with her beautiful clear eyes.
“Who could oblige him to part with his own child?” she asked.
“That I do not know, mein Fräulein. What I do know is that some shadow darkens my friend’s life and imbitters it—that he not only can not do what he wishes, but is forced to do what he hates—and that parting was one of the things.”
She looked at me with eagerness for some moments; then said, quickly:
“I can not help being interested in all this, but I fancy I ought not to listen to it, for—for—I don’t think he would like it. He—he—I believe he dislikes me, and perhaps you had better say no more.”