“My dear Gloria, we owe a deep debt of gratitude to this good woman and her son—or grandson, is he? But we must not trespass on their kind hospitality. I am sure you must be sufficiently recovered to rise and dress and return with me to the hall.”
“Oh, no, sir, indeed she is not. She has been so shaken by her shock. Take an old ’oman’s word for it, sir, she had better bide here a day or two,” said Dame Lindsay, speaking earnestly for her guest.
“Indeed, uncle, she is right. I need to stay here where I am,” added Gloria.
“Will you have the kindness to withdraw for a few moments and leave me alone with my ward? I have something to say to her in private,” said Colonel de Crespigney, turning to the woman.
Dame Lindsay bent her head and went up into the little loft, and improved her time there by making David’s bed.
“Gloria, my dearest, I could not speak freely to you in the presence of your humble hostess——” began the colonel; but the willful girl impatiently interrupted him.
“‘Humble hostess,’ uncle? Why should Dame Lindsay be called ‘humble,’ indeed? I call her my honored hostess, in my own thoughts.”
“Well, well, my little girl, call her what you will. I shall not differ with you. But, my dear, I was about to say that it is not fitting or proper that you should remain here any longer.”
“Why is it not fitting or proper, uncle?”
“Because this is the house of a young laboring man, and while you are here you are his visitor.”