Away off here in Villar, the little orphan was not forgotten. One day, to
her great excitement, Paula received a letter, directed personally to her,
from someone from her own beloved land.

"What beautiful writing!" exclaimed Rosa. "Who could it be from?"

"I think it must be from my god-mother," responded Paula, trembling with
emotion. "Oh, do give me the letter, Rosa."

Rosa, always full of fun, pretended to keep the letter, to the dismay of
our small cousin, who didn't always see through our jokes, but finally
yielded to her entreaties.

"Wouldn't you like to read it to us, Rosa?" asked Paula, tearing open the
envelope. "I find it much harder to read writing than printing."

Rosa was only too glad to learn the secrets contained in such an unusual
communication. And so this is what we heard as she read:

"My dear god-daughter: I cannot tell you how dismayed I was on my return
from Geneva to learn of the death of thy father. I know he is at peace in
heaven, happy at the side of the Lord he so dearly loved. But it is for
thee that my heart was torn with anguish. Canst thou imagine the pain that
filled it when I found on my return to Villar, that both of you had gone
from me?

"The Pastor in the village told me that thou hadst gone to your uncle's
house in Normandy, and that thou wert well-cared for. But oh, how I would
have wished to have kept thee with me. But thou knowest, that for me, that
would have been impossible, having to care for my old father and mother, as