Gloria obediently consumed all the beef tea and dry toast, and relished both.
“Now I feel well; but I think I would rather lie here a few minutes longer, and not try to get up yet, if you will let me, dee-ar Dame Lindsay.”
“To be sure, little lady. ’Ee should lie there quietly all the morning, and when ’ee rises should rest quietly in the house for a day or two. Could ’ee be satisfied to stay here till ’ee gets over the shock?”
“Oh, yes, dee-ar Dame Lindsay, I was always so happy when here with you. Oh, I wish there would come a snow-storm, and I would be snow-bound here for a long time. But, oh, poor uncle! Does he know that David Lindsay saved my life?”
“No, dearie; there has been no time to tell him. It is early in the morning yet, ’ee knows; but after breakfast Davie must go and tell him that ’ee’s safe.”
“And that I must stay here for a few days,” added Gloria.
“Surely, dearie,” replied the old woman.
At this moment the two were startled by a loud knock.
Dame Lindsay got up to answer the summons, but before she could cross the floor, the door was thrown violently open and Colonel de Crespigney strode into the room, looking pale, haggard, hurried, and at least thirty years older than when we saw him last.