The hand tightened on Rossi's arm, and his head began to swim.

"Little by little, in this grave of a living man, I have heard what has

happened since I was banished from the world. The treacherous letter

which called me back to Italy and decoyed me into the hands of the

police was the work of a man who now holds my estates as the payment for

his treachery."

"The Baron?"

Rossi had stopped the phonograph.

"Can you bear it?" he said.

The pale young face flushed with resolution.

"Go on," she said.

When the voice from the phonograph began again it was more tremulous and

husky than before.

"After he had betrayed the father, what impulse of fear or humanity

prompted him to take charge of the child, God alone, who reads all

hearts, can say. He went to England to look for her, found her in the

streets to which she had been abandoned by the faithlessness of the

guardians to whom I left her, and shut their mouths by buying them to

the perjury of burying the unknown body of an unfortunate being in the

name of my beloved child."

The hand on Rossi's arm trembled feebly, and slipped down to his own

hand. It was cold as ice. The voice from the phonograph was growing

faint.

"She is now in Rome, living in the name that was mine in Italy, amid an

atmosphere of danger and perhaps of shame. My son, save her from it. The

man who betrayed the father may betray the daughter also. Take her from

him. Rescue her. It is my dying prayer."

The hand in Rossi's hand was holding it tightly, and his blood was

throbbing at his heart.

"David," the voice from the phonograph was failing rapidly, "when this

shall come to your hands the darkness of the grave will be over me....

In my great distress of mind I torture myself with many terrors.... Do

not trifle with my request. But whatever you decide to do ... be gentle

with the child.... I dream of her every night, and send my heart's heart

to her on the swelling tides of love.... Adieu, my son. The end is near.

God be with you in all you do that I did ill or left undone. And if

death's great sundering does not annihilate the memory of those who

remain on earth, be sure you have a helper and an advocate in heaven."

The voice ceased, the whirring of the instrument came to an end, and an

invisible spirit seemed to fade into the air. The pattering of the rain

had stopped, and there was the crackle of cab wheels on the pavement

below. Roma had dropped Rossi's hand, and was leaning forward on her

knees with both hands over her face. After a moment, she wiped her eyes

with her handkerchief and began to put on her hat.




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