The child had a thoughtful and serious face; she now fixed her eyes on old Antonio, and did not speak.
"And I must take you home," continued the old man. "I should like to keep you with me, my little bright missy, but suppose your good father has returned, fancy his agony."
"If I could think my father had come, how glad I should be!" said little Mona, and she went over to Antonio and took his hand. It was not a very long way from Antonio's attic to the house in B—— Square.
Antonio was too old and too feeble to carry the little girl all the way. He would have liked to do so, for the feel of her little arms round his neck, and her soft brown cheek pressed to his, brought the strangest peace and comfort to his heart.
Antonio had not had such a good time since he left Italy, and he could not help feeling, in some inexplicable way, that he was going back to Marcia.
At last they reached the house, and the old organ-man's ring was speedily answered. Immediately there was a shout of delight and a great bustle, and little Mona was almost torn from her companion and carried into a dining-room, which was very bright with firelight and gaslight.
Antonio, standing on the hall-door steps, heard some very tender and loving words addressed in a manly voice to the little girl.
Then he said to himself, "The dear little one's father has come and her heart will be at rest." And he began slowly to go down the steps, and to turn back to a world which was once more quite sunless and cold.
But this was not to be, for little Mona's voice arrested him, and both she and her father brought him into the house and into the warm dining-room. There Mr. Sinclair shook his hand, and thanked him many times, and tried to explain to him something of the agony he had undergone when he had listened to the terrified Janet's confession, and had discovered that his only child was gone.
"I too have lost a child," said old Antonio. "I can sympathize with your feelings, sir."