Paula the Waldensian | Page 3

more closely over the letter, she became more
serious as she neared the bottom of the fourth page where the writing
became so close and so fine that it was hardly possible to decipher it.
When, at last, she lifted her head, her eyes were full of tears. "Poor,
poor little thing!" she repeated softly.

"Well, what do you think?" said my father.
"What do I think? Why we must send at once and have her come here
as soon as possible, because--"
"Who?" my father interrupted her without ceremony.
"Yes; who? who?" questioned Louis.
"Tell us, father, please," added my sister Rosa, a tall, serious girl of
fifteen.
And as he did not answer us quickly our questions multiplied.
"Patience! Patience!" cried my father; "your turn will come."
"Teresa, you are getting old, and another girl in the house simply means
more work for you and a lot more problems for me. If 'she' (my father
had never been able to reconcile himself to pronounce the name of my
mother since her untimely death)--if 'she' were here I would not hesitate,
but to bring another orphan into a family already half-orphaned doesn't
seem right to me."
"Don't worry, sir, a little more work doesn't worry Teresa Rouland. She
will have to get up a little earlier and go to bed a little later, and that
will be all."
"Well, Teresa, I'll think about it, and it needs to be 'thought about' a
good deal."
"And why do you say that, sir? One doesn't have to reflect long about
doing good."
"Well, I'll tell you why I hesitate. I'm sure that someone else could
much better replace the parents of this orphaned girl. I must confess
that for my part I don't feel equal to the task."
"Sir, would you like to know what I think? You have said to yourself,
'From the time that my wife died life has become a burden, and if it

wasn't for the children I would have died of grief, but for love of them I
must work and live. Therefore, with my heart torn and desolated as it is,
I don't feel called upon to take any responsibility upon myself other
than that of my own children!'"
"There is a good deal of truth in what you say, Teresa."
"Yes, sir, but it is very bad, very bad, if you will let me say so! I know I
ought not to talk so, as I'm only a poor old servant; but remember, I
was the one that brought up the lovely woman that we all mourn for,
and I knew her before you did, sir, and I loved her as if she were my
own child. When I put her in the coffin it was as if they had taken out a
piece of my own heart. She was so young to die, so sweet, so good, and
besides so marvelously beautiful! But I dried my tears as best I could,
for I knew there was much to be done; and I said to myself that I would
honor the memory of my mistress by doing always that which I knew
she would have approved of. And now, sir, take this little orphan as you
know your good wife would have done, as the daughter of her beloved
sister...." She stopped suddenly, slightly abashed, as she realized that
perhaps she had said a little too much for one in her station in life.
But more than her mere words, her voice vibrant with emotion had
moved us all to the depths of our souls.
"You are a valiant woman with a great heart," my father said, as he
took her hand. "I will write this very night and ask them to send the girl
to us as soon as possible."
Then turning to us he added, "You no doubt know by this time of
whom we have been speaking. Your cousin Paula has just lost her
father. You will remember, her mother died some years ago, and we are
her nearest relatives. Your uncle's friends have written me as to
whether I will consent to receive Paula in our home, and in a few days,
more or less, she will be among us."
We opened our mouths to ask a thousand questions, but father stopped
us. "No, no! That is enough for now! Later I will tell you the details;
besides, I must go out immediately. Go now to your various tasks and

don't be thinking too much about this coming of your cousin."

CHAPTER TWO
MEMORIES
That night I could not study my lessons. In fact, I could do nothing but
think about Paula! I was not a student and was always at the bottom of
the class. Louis, in the matter of study,