seemed to recognize no one. She lay in her bed like a beautiful
flower broken from its stem. In vain did Ondrejko whisper to her, and
stroke and kiss her. She looked at him but did not answer. Only one
thing consoled her poor child, that she had an expression, whether
she slept or not, as though she were very happy. At times she sang
beautiful songs to the honor of the Lamb; other times again, a sea
ballad, and after that always the song, "My faith looks up to Thee."
Thus two weeks passed by without any change.

In the meantime Lesina came; he finished what was necessary and
went away, but did not take Palko with him. He could not do that to
Ondrejko, who nestled to his comrade like a little bird driven out of
its nest. The doctor said Ondrejko would surely be sick if his comrade
left him just at this time. Bacha promised Lesina that he himself
would take Palko home when the lady got better, because he believed
that the lady would get well, although the doctor gave no hope that
she would not die or that she would not lose her mind. For this reason
also, Lesina could not take Palko away, for it seemed that the sick
lady knew him. When he read in his Book she looked at him as if she
listened, and though she did not say anything, she was always so quiet
and happy.

In the meantime the answer came from Paris, and the unfortunate lady
did not know that the boy who sat beside her bed so pale, now belonged
only to her, and that no one else had any right to him. Neither did
she know about another message--yes, even two; one coming from Hamburg
in which her father announced that he had arrived safely; the other
announcing his coming on Saturday evening to the nearest railway
station. The Bacha very sadly stood at the foot of the lady's bed with
both messages in his hands, and Aunty Moravec cried bitterly.

"What shall we do, Bacha Filina? He is coming from such a distance and
knows nothing. How will he take it, when he finds her thus, and
will hear that because of his telegram this sickness overcame her?
Previously, in Russia, the doctors had told her that some day her
nerves might give way. Oh, what will the poor father say? He wanted to
give her joy, and it has turned out like this."

"What God does and permits, is always good," Filina said, nodding his
head. "Do not worry; I am going for her father, and on the way will
prepare him for what he will find here."

"Bacha Filina, take me along to meet Grandfather," begged Ond