“Till all those dreadful changes came, and set us wide apart. Yes, I heard you were coming down.”
“Godfrey! husband!” whispered Lady Markham; “can you not see?”
“I am confused. I do not understand,” he faltered, as he caught his wife’s hand in his.
“Lil, can’t you shake hands with your old friend?” said Fred, as the tall graceful girl looked at him half pleased, half shrinkingly.
“And your father has done all this, Fred?” said Scarlett, in an eager whisper.
“Yes; I found him busy one day when I came home for a visit, and it has been his task ever since.”
“But—for Heaven’s sake, man, be frank with me—he meant it for your home?”
“Scarlett Markham, because my father differed from you in politics, and sided against the king, don’t brand him as a cowardly miser. No; he said that some day Sir Godfrey would return, and that he would show him that he had not forgotten they once were friends.”
“Father, do you hear this?” cried Scarlett. “Colonel Forrester, is the old time coming back?”
“Please God, my boy, now that the sword is to be beaten into a ploughshare. Godfrey Markham, I did this in all sincerity. Will you accept it from your enemy?”