"So," said the doctor again, his face growing somewhat graver as he looked earnestly at her. "I do not think that Madam Adler can come to see thee this morning. But first I must tell thee some good news: I have just heard that thy father is quite well."
"Yes?" said Violet questioningly. "I also had a letter from my father;" and she held up an envelope which she had kept tightly pressed until now in her left hand.
"But mine was not a letter; it was a telegram."
"A telegram?" she repeated, puzzled and distressed.
"Yes, dearest child," said the doctor, taking her hand in his and half turning aside his head. "Thank God thy father is safe and well. I have made that sure for thee. But there has been a battle—a great battle; and our regiment was given the honour of being placed in the front; and some, of course, have been wounded; and some will never suffer any more; and some are safe, and thy father is amongst those whom God has spared."
"My father!" cried Violet excitedly; "he has been in a battle, and he did not tell me so in his letter; and—and he is safe!"
"Yes. He could not have told thee in his letter. The battle was fought yesterday, and the news only came in last night."
"And is any one hurt?" she cried, clasping the doctor's hand with her burning fingers. "Is Fritz's father safe?"
"I am afraid he has been very seriously hurt," he replied.
"He is not dead?" gasped Violet.