"Of some one, child, whom I knew when I was young--of some one who died long years before you were born." There was a ring of pathos in his voice that seemed like the echo of some sorrowful story.
"Are you sure that you have no other name than Janet Holme?" he asked, presently.
"None, sir, that I know of. I have been called Janet Holme ever since I can remember."
"But about your parents. What were they called, and where did they live?"
"I know nothing whatever about them except what Sister Agnes told me yesterday."
"And she said--what?"
"That my father was drowned abroad several years ago, and that my mother died a year later."
"Poverina! But it is strange that Sister Agnes should have known your parents. Perhaps she can supply the missing link. The mention of her name reminds me that I have not yet sent word to Dupley Walls that you are safe and sound at Rose Cottage. Geordie must start without a moment's delay. I am an old friend of Lady Pollexfen, my dear, so that she will be quite satisfied when she learns that you are under my roof."
"But, sir, when shall I see the gentleman who got me out of the water?" I asked.
"What, Geordie? Oh, you'll see Geordie in the morning, never fear. A good boy! a fine boy! though it's his old uncle that says it."