“True; but I beg you to be just to your guardian, Miss de la Vera.”
“Oh, David Lindsay, do you be just to yourself. Is your boat here?”
“Yes, Miss. It is near this end of the Neck. I cannot land at the old fishing landing now, because of the new sea-wall and the locked boat-house blocking off all from the beach in that direction.”
“I understand. The place is more like a prison than ever. Well, David Lindsay, please to walk up with me to the house. I have a parcel there for Granny Lindsay which I want you to help me carry to the boat; for I am going to Sandy Isle to see her this morning,” said the young lady, in a tone of decision that admitted of no reply.
So the young fisherman walked obediently by her side until they reached the hall.
Gloria opened the front door, which, in that safe seclusion, was never locked in the daytime, and invited the young man to follow her in.
“Sit here in the hall, David Lindsay, while I run up to my room and get my parcel,” she said, pointing to a chair.
At that moment the study door opened on the right, and Colonel de Crespigney came out and looked about as if to see what was the matter. Of course, his eyes fell at once upon the form of the young fisherman just seated in the chair.
“David Lindsay is here, at my request, to take me to Sandy Isle to see Dame Lindsay,” said Gloria, pausing, with her hand upon the lowest post of the banisters, and her foot upon the lowest step of the stairs.
“Oh!” replied the colonel, not very graciously, as he looked slowly from the girl to the young man.