"I will tell him what you have been," said the blind man, "and besides he will see for himself; for my son has a good kind heart." [Illustration: HE TOLD HER THAT SHE WAS LIKE A LITTLE DAUGHTER TO HIM.] Often he would speak in these terms, and Perrine always wanted to ask him how, if these were his sentiments, he could have been so unforgiving and severe with him, but every time she tried to speak the words would not come, for her throat was closed with emotion. It was a serious matter for her to broach such a subject, but on that particular evening she felt encouraged by what had happened. There could not have been a more opportune moment; she was alone with him in his study where no one came unless summoned. She was seated near him under the lamplight. Ought she to hesitate longer? She thought not. "Do you mind," she said, in a little trembling voice, "if I ask you something that I do not understand? I think of it all the time, and yet I have been afraid to speak." "Speak out," he said. "What I cannot understand," she said timidly, "is that loving your son as you do, you could be parted from him." "It is because you are so young you do not understand," he said, "that there is duty as well as love. As a father, it was my duty to send him away; that was to teach him a lesson. I had to show him that my will was stronger than his. That is why I sent him to India where I intended to keep him but a short while. I gave him a position befitting my son and heir. He was the representative of my house. Did I know that he would marry that miserable creature? He was mad!" "But Father Fields said that she was not a miserable creature," insisted Perrine. "She was or she would not have contracted a marriage that was not valid in France," retorted the blind man, "and I will not recognize her as my daughter." He said this in a tone that made Perrine feel suddenly cold. Then he continued abruptly: "You wonder why I am trying to get my son back now, if I did not want him back after he had married. Things have changed. Conditions are not the same now as then. After fourteen years of this so-called marriage my son ought to be tired of this woman and of the miserable life that he has been forced to live on account of her. Besides conditions for me have also changed. My health is not what it was, and I am blind. I cannot recover my sight unless I am operated upon and I must be in a calm state favorable to the success of this operation. When my son learns this do you think he will hesitate to leave this woman? I am willing to support her and her daughter also. I am sure many times he has thought of Maraucourt and wanted to return. If I love him I know that he also loves me. When he learns the truth he will come back at once, you will see." "Then he would have to leave his wife and daughter?" "He has no wife nor has he a daughter," said the old man sternly. "Father Fields says that he was married at the Mission House by Father Leclerc," said Perrine.