Then bending close to the stiffened form, Arthur examined the face minutely, while Frank looked on alternately between hope and dread, the former of which triumphed as his brother said, quietly:
'Yes, she is French: but I do not know her. I never saw her before. Had she nothing with her to tell who she was?'
His mood had passed, and Frank did not hear him now.
'She had a trunk,' he replied. 'Here it is, with her clothes, and the child's, and—a Bible.'
'He said the last slowly, and, taking up the book, opened it as far as possible from the writing on the margin, which might or might not be dangerous.
'It is a German Bible,' he continued, and then Arthur took it quickly from him as if it had been a long-lost friend, turning the worn pages rapidly, but failing to discover the marked passage and the message for some one.
The lock of baby hair and the faded flowers caught his attention, and his breath came hard and pantingly, as for a moment he held the little golden tress which seemed almost to twine itself lovingly around his fingers.
'That must be her child's hair. You know I told you there was a little girl found with her. Would you like to see her?' Frank said.
'No, no!' Arthur answered, hastily. 'Let her stay where she is, I don't like children as a rule. You know I can't abide the noise yours sometimes make.'
He was leaving the room with the Bible in his hand, but Frank could not suffer that, and he said: