Cora felt just then that the strain of being so near freedom, and yet so far from it, was even worse than being in the big room.
"I know where there are some beautiful fall wild flowers," said Helka. "We may walk along for a good distance yet. These grounds are mine, you know."
"If they were only mine!" Cora could not help expressing.
"You see, my dear, I owe something to my dear, dead mother. She loved this life."
"But your father. Did he?"
"I can't say. I wish I might find him. He is not really dead."
"Not dead!"
"No. I say so at times because we call certain conditions death, but I do believe my father lives—abroad."
"And he is a nobleman?"
"You folks would call him that, but he is not one of us."