“’Ee shall have a cup of coffee or tea, whichever ’ee likes, presently; but this is the best for ’ee now.” Gloria obediently consumed all the beef tea and dry toast, and relished both. “Now I feel well; but I think I would rather lie here a few minutes longer, and not try to get up yet, if you will let me, dee-ar Dame Lindsay.” “To be sure, little lady. ’Ee should lie there quietly all the morning, and when ’ee rises should rest quietly in the house for a day or two. Could ’ee be satisfied to stay here till ’ee gets over the shock?” “Oh, yes, dee-ar Dame Lindsay, I was always so happy when here with you. Oh, I wish there would come a snow-storm, and I would be snow-bound here for a long time. But, oh, poor uncle! Does he know that David Lindsay saved my life?” “No, dearie; there has been no time to tell him. It is early in the morning yet, ’ee knows; but after breakfast Davie must go and tell him that ’ee’s safe.” “And that I must stay here for a few days,” added Gloria. “Surely, dearie,” replied the old woman. At this moment the two were startled by a loud knock. Dame Lindsay got up to answer the summons, but before she could cross the floor, the door was thrown violently open and Colonel de Crespigney strode into the room, looking pale, haggard, hurried, and at least thirty years older than when we saw him last. CHAPTER XIV DRIVEN TO DESPERATION O, shut me nightly in a charnel house, O’er covered quite with dead men’s rattling bones, With reeking shanks, and yellow, chapless skulls; Or bid me go into a new-made grave And hide me with a dead man in his shroud— Things that to hear them told have made me tremble— And I will do them without fear or doubt To live unstained. SHAKESPEARE. “I beg your pardon for this sudden intrusion, but—I am suffering great—the greatest anxiety!” he began, casting his eyes around the room. “My ward has been missing since yesterday. Have you seen—have you heard——” “She is safe, Colonel de Crespigney. She is quite safe. She is here,” answered Dame Lindsay, leading the visitor around the headboard of the bed, that had hitherto hidden the recumbent girl from his sight. “Gloria, my darling!” he exclaimed, as soon as his eyes fell upon her. “Heavens, what a fright you have given us! What insufferable tortures of anxiety and suspense! And to find you here, and in bed, too! What does all this mean?” he demanded, turning in more displeasure than gratitude to the old dame. “It means that the little lady, while trying to walk across the Rogue’s Neck, was overtaken by the tide and swept off to sea, and was picked up by my Davie, who happened to be out with his boat, and who brought her here as to the nearest house,” replied Dame Lindsay. “What is all this that she tells me, Gloria?” inquired the shocked colonel.