although no bones were broken, yet coming on a previous illness, his condition might, any day, be serious.
He blamed himself for his absence, thinking that the accident, perhaps, might not have occurred had he gone with his father on that trip to the western mines. Then he remembered that it would have been impossible for him to get to New York from Brindisi until three days after the accident, and felt relieved.
Brindisi? Ah, yes— Where was the Count? He was afraid the old man was no better or he would have sent word. “I shall not see you again, my son,” he had said on parting. Were the words to be prophetic? If he should die, what would become of Helène? Who would take care of her? Who will take care of her? He repeated the question so often that he suddenly found the clicking of the train’s wheels over the rail-joints keeping time to them. Who will take care of her? Who will take care of