Even without him it was very near perfection. Such a lovely place—such masses of flowers—such luxuriant trees with branches sweeping the ground—such velvet lawns! She set off at full speed, going from one part to another with ever-increasing delight, till she reached a little "view-spot" on the top of a hillock, where creepers had been trained as a background to a sheltered rustic seat, and a wide extent of country broke upon the sight. She stood drinking it eagerly in; and—
"Oh, it is a glorious world!" escaped her lips.
"Yes, it is," a voice said. To her surprise, there stood Mr. Miles.
"Isn't it lovely?" she exclaimed. "And you are up too! I thought I was the only one. It seems a shame to lie in bed and lose this!"
He pointed out to her some of the main features in the landscapes, naming two or three distant hills. Then they sat down, and somehow—Magda could not afterwards recall what had led to it—she found herself talking about the use she had made of life in this same wonderful world. Mr. Miles certainly asked a question or two—but she forgot what the questions had been.
"I did mean once to study hard," she said. "When I first left school, I mean. There was plenty of time—then—and Rob said I ought, so as to prepare for future work. But somehow—I never kept it up. And now Pen is married, I am much less free. I'm supposed to do heaps of stupid little fidgets, and I never know when I shall be wanted. And—is it right? Ought I to be always doing such things, instead of finding time for more important work?"
"It seems that when you had the time you did not use it. What sort of 'things' are they? And what is the more important work that you propose to do?"
"I don't know. I've wanted for ever so long to find some work really worth doing. And the little things are—oh, just what Pen used to do. Things for the house; and going out with mother; and writing notes; and tidying up."
"Home duties, in short. Now that you are the eldest daughter, they must come first."
"Merryl could do them!"