He helped her over the rough stones of the broken sea-wall, and then walked with her until they reached the porch and found Colonel de Crespigney and Miss Agrippina sitting out there to enjoy the delicious coolness of the August evening. Then the boy paused and lifted his torn straw hat, and said: “Good-night.” “Good-night. God bless you, dee-ar David Lindsay.” “And you too!” So the children parted, to meet no more for years to come. That night David Lindsay, being a boy, and therefore ashamed of his tears, cried “all alone by himself” in the little loft of his island cot. That night, little Glo’, being a girl, sobbed herself to sleep on the sympathetic bosom of her “dee-ar Marcel.” Long before light the next morning she took tearful leave of her uncle and her humble colored friends, and started in the custody of Miss Grip for the distant city where she was to spend her school days. Before the end of the month she was duly entered as a resident pupil in the Academy of the Sacred Heart Convent. And Miss Agrippina de Crespigney returned to Promontory Hall to keep house for her nephew, well satisfied. CHAPTER VIII AFTER SEVEN YEARS Out of the convent came the maid. ROBERT BROWNING. We have lingered so long over the lovely childhood of little Glo’ that we have no time to give to her school days. In entering her at the “Sacret Heart,” Miss Agrippina had enrolled her as the “Countess Maria da Gloria de la Vera,” and had provided her with as rich and costly an outfit as the rigid rules of the academy would permit. She had also furnished her with a plenty of pocket-money. All this had given the simple-hearted, humble-minded little Glo’ a grand rank among her untitled and less wealthy school-mates, who did all they possibly could do to transform her from a meek and lovely child to a proud and supercilious young lady. Poor David Lindsay did not realize the loss of little Glo’ until she had really gone. Then he “sorrowed without hope.” It is true that he believed she would return at Christmas; but that was four long months off. From the fourth day of her departure he began to watch for the return of old Laban from his Tuesday’s and Friday’s trips to St. Inigoes’ Post-office, and on his appearance would call out: “Any letters, Uncle Laban?” The answers were always: “Yes.” Then, after the decent delay of an hour, the poor boy would go up to the house and bashfully ask for the colonel, and when admitted to his presence stand respectfully, cap in hand, and inquire: “If you please, sir, have you heard from——” “Miss de la Vera?” “Yes, sir, please.” “I have. She is well, and sends her kind remembrance to you,” would Colonel de Crespigney reply.