She banished her thoughts.
Elsie was young, and would get well.

And when she recovered, she would know who were her friends, and Arthur's.
A figure came towards her, crossing the _parterre d'eau_.

She perceived her father--just released, no doubt, from two English acquaintances with whom he had been exploring the 'Bosquet d'Apollon.' He hurried towards her--a tall Don Quixote of a man, gaunt, active, grey-haired, with a stride like a youth of eighteen, and the very minimum of flesh on his well-hung frame.

Lord Findon had gone through many agitations during the last ten or twelve years.

In his own opinion, he had upset a Ministry, he had recreated the army, and saved the Colonies to the Empire.