“Oh, Marcel, there is David Lindsay! I know it is David Lindsay! He has grown tall; of course, I expected to find him grown up, but he has the same face and eyes that I should know if I should meet him in Africa. Oh! I thank the Lord he is not changed into anything else! Oh, Marcel! I must speak to David Lindsay. Here, Laban, stop the horses! Stop them right here!” The negro coachman touched his hat and drew up opposite the rock on which the young man sat, and within a few feet of it. She leaned out, and called: “David Lindsay! David Lindsay! Oh, David Lindsay, please come here!” He looked up at the sound of her voice, and paled and shook with emotion as he drew in his fishing-line, laid it down beside him, arose, and approached the carriage. “Oh, David Lindsay, how do you do? I am so overjoyed to see you once more! Why! don’t you remember me—your old playmate of the fishing landing?” she inquired, seeing that he hesitated to take the hand she had offered him. He took the delicately gloved fingers then, however, and bowed over them. “Why—don’t you remember the old sea-wall, and the old broken boat, and the good times we used to have there, and the little dinners we used to cook on the beach, and the little schools we used to keep? Don’t you remember, David Lindsay?” she gladly inquired, with a childlike eagerness, as she smiled upon him. “Oh, yes, Miss, I remember well,” he answered, in a low, subdued voice. “Oh, I think that was the happiest time in my whole life, David Lindsay! Don’t you?” “It was the happiest time in mine, Miss,” he replied, in the same subdued tone, as he kept his eyes fixed upon the ground, not trusting them to look at her again. “And how is dear Granny Lindsay? Is she still at the cot on the isle? Is she as busy and active as ever?” inquired Gloria, with new interest in her tone. “She is as well as she can be at seventy years of age, but more infirm than when you knew her last. She lives at the cot on the isle, and she is as busy, but not as active, as ever,” he answered, slowly and gravely. “Oh, what happy, happy days we used to have at her house, David Lindsay! Such happy, happy days! Do you remember them?” Did he not remember them? Ah, yes! but, with her bright face beaming down upon him, bringing the light of those days so vividly before him, with the memory of their frank, childish affection then, and the consciousness of the gulf that opened between them now, it had grown more and more difficult for him to answer her. Now he seemed tongue-tied. “Do you think she will let me come and spend a day with her, just as I used to do? Oh, how I should like to do so! It would be so like old times! Would she let me, David Lindsay?” “Indeed, she would be very happy to do so,” replied the young man, partly recovering his voice. “Well, then, will you ask her if I may come to-morrow? And will you row me over, as you used to do, David Lindsay?” “I shall be too happy to do so, Miss de la Vera.”