“Poor things! They little know what a terrible time is before their children’s children!”
“You mean the British? When the Romans have gone?” said Betty, who by this time was beginning to accept all the strange things that were happening without much surprise.
“Yes. In a few years that villa you have just seen, and all the other beautiful Roman houses, will have dropped into decay. There will be no one left in London except perhaps a handful of British slaves, and most of them will have to flee to that forest over there, to escape from the murderous people who will overrun this island....”
The people were still passing to and fro upon London Bridge, as Betty gazed about her. The sunlight was still sparkling on the river, and from the fortress came the sound of the tramping feet of the soldiers.
“There’s a little boat just putting off,” said Godmother. “The man in it is going to fish higher up the river. We’ll step in with him. It’s a great advantage to be invisible!” she added, smiling, as they hurried down to the bank.
It was strange nevertheless to be seated opposite a shaggy-haired, bare-legged fisherman, who took no notice of them, but as the boat glided on, Betty was soon so interested in the scenery they were passing that she almost forgot the silent man who was rowing them. Very soon they had passed all the gardens and orchards on the banks, and now on either side there was nothing but a waste of water with here and there a low reed-covered island just showing above its level.
“We are now passing under Westminster Bridge,” observed Godmother presently. “On our left is St. Thomas’s Hospital and Lambeth Palace, and on our right the Houses of Parliament, with Westminster Abbey behind it.”
Betty stared. She thought Godmother must be joking.
“Perfectly true,” the old lady assured her in answer to her smile. “On that island just above the water on the right, in another six hundred years, Westminster Abbey will rise.”
Betty heard the gurgling of the water as it washed between the reeds and bulrushes of the island, and as she thought of the beautiful Cathedral under whose shadow her godmother’s house stood, it seemed a miracle that such a change could have taken place.