But Sarpinto was an idler to-day, and a dreamer as well—that is, if so restless a spirit as his ever could be idle.
He had smoked two or three cigarettes, and lit a fourth, but presently he threw this away, and throwing himself back in his chair, allowed his eyes to rest on a fleecy cloud that was speeding across the blue sky on the wings of a western breeze. There was not another morsel of cloudlet to be seen anywhere.
"All alone! All alone!" he was saying half aloud, "alone like a ship at sea, or like my own time-tossed barque of life. How different, how very different it would all have been had Helena loved me! Ay, it is just seventeen years to-day since I dared my fate, and in these very gardens too, and not very far from this spot. Heigho! how the time flies! How——."
He had not heard the sound of light footsteps advancing, nor noted that anyone was near him, till a sweet soft voice said:
"Oh, please sir, can you tell me which is the path that leads to the gate? I——."
She ceased speaking, and stood before Señor Sarpinto, shy, half-frightened, but wholly surprised. And well she might be. For Sarpinto had clutched the arms of the chair with both hands, and was bending forward, gazing into her face as one might who has suddenly awakened from a strange dream.
"Good heavens! girl," he cried. "Tell me what or who you are, and how you came here."
"Oh, sir!" Toddie began, "I'm sorry—I didn't know, Pray forgive me, sir—but, ah! here come father and Captain Cawdor."
"O, Daddy!" she shouted, running towards the group, and forgetting all about Sarpinto. "I'm so glad you have come. I had lost you."
"But, my dear child," cried the jolly old captain, "I do declare you've found your uncle before us."