"Were mamma's eyes dark?" questioned Madame Giche.
"Oh, no! Mamma's eyes are like mine. People say I am very like mamma."
"Yes; he was painting the portrait of the gentleman with whom he's gone abroad when--when he was taken ill"--the child's sweet grey eyes filled with tears. "He broke a blood-vessel, and--and 'twas said he would die if he spent the winter in England."
"Yes; it was very kind of him. A Mr. Mortimer--his father was rich once, only he lost his estate, so his son was poor, only he married a rich lady; and they are so happy, and Mrs. Mortimer is so beautiful," went on the child.
"Mortimer! Mortimer!"--the ancient lady shook her head. "No, I don't know the name," she sighed, looking at her son's picture again.
"I wonder where the little boy is, Madame Giche?" said Inna, out of the silence that followed, noting the aged mother's fond gaze.
"Little boy, dear?" was the dreamy response.
"Yes, Madame Giche, your dear little grandson."
"My dear, he's not a little boy--he's thirty-three years of age--that is, if he's living."
"Oh, how strange! why, he is just as old as papa, and I keep fancying him a little boy."
"No, dear, no," sighed Madame Giche. "And so papa is thirty-three?" she asked.
"Yes, just the age of Mr. Mortimer; they kept their last birthday together--you know--in Italy," was the quivering response. She could not speak of her absent ones so calmly as her aged friend.
"But papa is better, is he not, my dear?" questioned Madame Giche cheerfully, noting the tremor in her voice.
"Oh, yes! and seeing and doing so much, he is almost well--and--and having his heart's desire, at last, in seeing Rome."
"No, not since he was a very little boy. But Mr. Mortimer was; he has travelled a great deal; he married his wife abroad--in Switzerland, I think."
"Ah, indeed!" and again Madame Giche sighed.
"Yes, I think--I think he was tutor to a young gentleman there. You know, he does not mind my telling you; he often talks to people about that time--he doesn't mind a bit," said the conscientious little girl.
Just then the twins brought Inna a letter from Italy, and from her mamma. Madame Giche saw how the child's hand trembled at taking it, and drew the two little girls away, to let her read it in peace.