“‘ALICE HAS A FINE VOICE.’”
me out of it. The other girls are studying music and languages. Alice has a fine voice.”
“And your father is dead, is he not? Did you not say you had a brother?”
Martha’s face grew quite white with the concentration of mind which this thought produced.
“Yes; I have a brother,” she said.
“Forgive me,” said the princess, with swift sympathy. “There is evidently some reason why it pains you to speak of your brother. Forget that I asked you.”
The blood rushed to Martha’s face as it occurred to her that her companion might misunderstand her reluctance to speak on this subject.
“It’s not that I am not proud of him that it is hard for me to speak,” she said; “it’s expressly because I am. I made up my mind long ago not to talk about Harold. I found I must not, because I could not speak of him with any freedom without saying things that people would think no merely mortal man deserved. I have worshiped him all my life, and, as I’m rather ashamed to own, I’ve had a great many other idols which turned out to be made of clay. This one, however, has never proved for an instant unworthy of my adoration.”
The princess smiled.