The question produced a momentary painful embarrassment in the others, too, by reminding them strongly of that difference of faith which they sometimes were able to quite forget.
“My little girl must not have a cloud on her sky to-night,” the father said tenderly. “What is wanting to your happiness, Bianca?”
“That you should be a Catholic,” she replied, trembling; for, with all their affection and confidence, she had never presumed to speak to him on the subject.
“You have your wish,” he answered.
She looked at him doubtfully, but did not dare to say a word.
“I am in earnest, children,” he said, feeling a hand clinging to his other arm. “I was baptized this morning at the American College.”
Not a word was said, but on either side his daughters surrounded him with their arms, and pressed their faces to his breast.
When at length they remembered to look for the Signora, she had disappeared.
TO BE CONTINUED.