"Speak," she said, earnestly. "I remember better when I do not see."
She was talking English, just as he had done, only more slowly, and almost as if it hurt her.
"I will read the first word, dear. Then you may spell it. M-i-n-e, mine. That means a gold mine, like ours, dear. Spell it, Rita, my darling!"
"Our mine?—darling? Oh, if I could see my father!"
Murray sprang to his feet as if he were a boy. His mouth opened and closed as if he were keeping back a great shout, and the tears came pouring down over his cheeks.
"RITA, RITA, MY DEAR LITTLE DAUGHTER!"
"Rita! Rita! My dear little daughter! Here I am!"
"Father!"
His arms were around her now, and he was kissing her almost frantically.