way, I noticed that in your Bible there were quite a number of dry flowers.
If you would like them, I will return them to you immediately."

"Oh, many thanks, uncle. I kept them there as remembrances of my father. I
shall keep them in some book where I can look at them often--often!"

"That's what I thought, my little daughter. I'll go and get your Bible, and
you yourself shall take them out."

But now Paula seemed to have a different idea. "No, I think that I prefer
that they remain where they are," she said in an altered voice.

"What's that you say?" exclaimed my father, astonished. "How is it that you
have so suddenly changed your mind?"

"Well, you see," explained Paula, trembling a bit, "they'd better remain
where they are, for I love my Bible, and I've read it every day, and now if
I saw it again, I'm afraid--I'm afraid--" and poor Paula's lip was
trembling.

"I understand, I understand," said my father.

But on turning to go into Catalina's room, he hesitated with his hand on
the latch of the door, and turning, he looked searchingly at Paula, as if
he would know the secret of the innermost heart of this child, so loving,
so angelic, and yet so absolutely natural.



CHAPTER SEVEN