“She is as well as she can be at seventy years of age, but more infirm than when you knew her last. She lives at the cot on the isle, and she is as busy, but not as active, as ever,” he answered, slowly and gravely.
“Oh, what happy, happy days we used to have at her house, David Lindsay! Such happy, happy days! Do you remember them?”
Did he not remember them?
Ah, yes! but, with her bright face beaming down upon him, bringing the light of those days so vividly before him, with the memory of their frank, childish affection then, and the consciousness of the gulf that opened between them now, it had grown more and more difficult for him to answer her. Now he seemed tongue-tied.
“Do you think she will let me come and spend a day with her, just as I used to do? Oh, how I should like to do so! It would be so like old times! Would she let me, David Lindsay?”
“Indeed, she would be very happy to do so,” replied the young man, partly recovering his voice.
“Well, then, will you ask her if I may come to-morrow? And will you row me over, as you used to do, David Lindsay?”
“I shall be too happy to do so, Miss de la Vera.”
“Ah, how glad I shall be to see dee-ar Granny Lindsay, and revive one of those old-time, happy, happy days!” exclaimed Gloria.
“My dear,” said Colonel de Crespigney, gravely, “the tide is coming in, and we are not more than half-way across. It is not safe to remain here a moment longer. We can scarcely cross before the road will be six feet under water!”