"And hast thou been sick always?"
"Yes, always." Violet sighed a little and moved somewhat restlessly on her pillow.
"And thy mother,—canst thou remember her?"
"Oh yes, quite well. She has not left me so very long. She slept there in that very room. She was too beautiful. All day long she sat with me, and I was always happy."
"And thy father—what is he like?"
"My father? Hast thou not seen him? He is, oh, so tall—almost up to the ceiling. He is the—but thou wilt see him for thyself, and then thou wilt know how splendid he is, and how good. When the war is over he will come home ever so fast to Violet."
"Without doubt," replied Evelina cheerfully. "And is he dark, or fair?"
"Quite dark."
"And thy mother—was she dark also?"
"Oh no. My mother, she is quite, quite fair. She has yellow hair. I will show thee some of it." Violet put out her hand and drew over her mother's Bible, which lay on the counterpane. She touched it so reverently, and opened it with such a nervous thrill, that Evelina watched her movements with a growing interest.