"Don't be sorry for me, dear papa. Indeed, I am quite happy."
That was the beginning of his always saying in the morning that he was a great deal better, and that they were to tell his father so.
How many times the golden water danced upon the wall, how many nights the dark, dark river rolled towards the sea, Paul never counted, never sought to know.
One night he had been thinking of his mother, and her picture in the drawing-room downstairs.
"Floy, did I ever see mamma?"
"No, darling."
The river was running very fast now, and confusing his mind. Paul fell asleep, and when he awoke the sun was high.
"Floy, come close to me, and let me see you."
Sister and brother wound their arms around each other, and the golden light came streaming in, and fell upon them locked together.
"How fast the river runs between its green banks and the rushes, Floy! But it's very near the sea. I hear the waves. They always said so."