Then Bessie asked her father, "Is Ermespoint a very pretty place?" I suppose the children had asked this question a hundred times, but Jervis never grew tired of answering it.
"It's the prettiest place I ever saw," said he. "There's high cliffs, you know, and a sandy beach; and rocks here and there; and beautiful waves rolling in. I've only been once, but I did say then, if I could choose a home for myself, I'd choose to be there. Likely as not, if that came about, we'd be wishing ourselves back at Littleburgh."
I wondered if he'd heard Miles and me the minute before.
The train was a slow one, and it stopped at all the stations. When we had gone by a good many we came to a biggish town, and there we waited longer than usual. My husband got out to stretch his legs, and we all thought somebody was sure to get in. The children didn't want this, for they knew I wouldn't let them chatter and move about, if it would be a bother to other people. I've no notion of letting my children be a plague and trouble, so that everybody must dislike them. I mean I hadn't in the days when they were children.
Up till just the last moment nobody came; and when the bell was rung, and the guard was slamming the doors, we thought we were safe. But just at that moment a young gentleman came rushing along the platform, full speed, with a porter after him, carrying a bag. "Anywhere! third-class will do," says he; and the porter opened our door, and he came in with a leap, just as the whistle sounded, and the train began to move; and Jervis helped to pull in the bag.
So we weren't alone any longer, and I can remember how disappointed the children looked, and how quiet they got, all of a sudden.
Nobody spoke at all at first, except that the young gentleman said "Thanks" to my husband. I think that was all he could say, for he seemed to have had a desperately hard run, and he just sat panting for breath.
It comes back to me how he looked that day—the first time I ever set eyes on him; little thinking he and we should have so much to do with one another. He didn't seem older than Miles, though he really was near two years older; and he had the brightest blue eyes, all ready for a laugh, even when he could hardly draw his breath. A lot of curly light hair peeped out from under his cap, and there was a colour in his cheeks that I shouldn't have liked to see in my children's cheeks—such a bright pink patch, and all round his lips as white as a tablecloth, with the run and the breathlessness. I wondered if his mother felt anxious about him. The panting lasted longer than it ought to have done, though he tried to hide it; and I could see that he didn't like to be noticed.
Presently he seemed better, and I saw him looking at the children, and they at him. Then he fixed his eyes on Bessie, and tried to get her to smile. She always had a smile ready, so he got what he wanted; and then she turned shy, and hid her face on Jervis' shoulder.
"You're not afraid of me, are you?" says the young gentleman.