"Yes, mother, and before long we shall reach your old home and Jakey," was Eloise's answer, as she kissed her mother good-night and sought her own pillow to think of the great happiness which had come to her in Jack Harcourt's love, and which would compensate for any disappointment there might be in store for her.
CHAPTER VII
IN THE PALMETTO CLEARING
There were not many guests at the Brock House as the season had not fully opened, and Jack had no trouble to find rooms for the ladies and himself. Amy's was in front, looking upon the St. John's, which here spreads out into Lake Monroe. She had had glimpses of the river from the railway car, but had not seen it as distinctly as now, when she stood by the window with an expression on her face as if she were thinking of the past, before her reason was clouded.
"Oh, the river!—the beautiful river!" she said. "It brings things back,—the boat I went in; not like that," and she pointed to a large, handsome steamboat lying at the wharf. "Not like that. What was its name?"
Jack, who was in the room, and who had read Mr. Mason's letter to his son, suggested, "The 'Hatty'?"
"Yes, the 'Hatty'!" Amy said. "Strange, I remember it when I have forgotten so much. And he was with me,—my father. Wasn't he my father?"
She looked at Eloise, who answered promptly, "Yes, he was your father."
"I thought so. He said I was to call him so," Amy went on, more to herself than to Eloise. "I didn't always, he was so cold and proud and hard with me, but he was kind at the last, and he is dead, and this is Florida, where the oranges and palm trees grow. They are there,—see!" and she pointed to the right, where a tall palm tree raised its head above an orange grove below.
She was beginning to remember, and Eloise and Jack kept silent while she went on: "And we are here to find my mother and Jakey."
She looked again at Eloise, who answered her: "To find Jakey,—yes; and to-morrow we shall see him. To-night you must rest."