"Colonel Carlyle," she exclaims, involuntarily, "how changed you are!"
Ten years instead of two seem to have gone over his head.
A look of age and weakness has grown into his face, his erect form has acquired a perceptible stoop; yet a look of disappointment flashes into his eyes at her words.
"It is only the fatigue of travel," he answers, quickly. "I have been a great wanderer since we parted, my dear, and the weariness of travel is still upon me. But as soon as I get rested and recuperated I shall look quite like myself again."
"I hope so," she answers, politely. "Pray resume your seat sir."
He looks at her a little wistfully as she seats herself some distance from him.
"Bonnibel, are you glad to see me again?" he asks, gently.
She looks up, startled, and hesitating what to say to this point-blank question.
He sees the struggle in a moment, and adds, quickly and a little sadly: