“Poor dear doggy Oscar?” she said. “He will miss you so much?”
“Yes, darling; his wistful, half-wondering glance I never can forget. He seemed to refuse to believe that I could possibly leave him, and the glance of love and sorrow in the depths of his soft brown eyes I shall remember as long as I live.”
The first to come on board when the vessel got in was Mr Hall himself and Ilda. The girl was changed in features, somewhat thinner, paler, and infinitely more sad-looking. But with loving abandon she threw herself into Reginald’s arms and wept.
“Oh, dear,” she cried, “how sadly it has all ended!” Then she brightened up a little. “We—that is, father and I—are going to Italy for the winter, and I may get well, and we may meet again. God in Heaven bless you, Reginald!”
Then the sad partings. I refuse to describe them. I would rather my story were joyful than otherwise, and so I refrain.
It was a long, weary journey that to New York, but it ended at last, and Reginald found himself a prisoner on board the B— Castle bound for Britain’s far-off shores.