William was very good to her, and she recognized that his goodness came from his love for his brother, whose wishes in anything to do with Hayslope it was his guiding principle to follow. He took all money affairs into his hands. He had assured her that the substantial income she had to spend was due to her, and not supplemented by him, except that he asked her to live at the Hall, as long as it suited her, and she paid no rent for it. He professed great frankness with her, and told her that the lines upon which he was dealing with her income enabled him to make more of it. She did not ask how it was done; she was content, for herself and her girls, to live quietly for the present at Hayslope, under his protective influence. They were all one family again now, though its headship had shifted.
One windy day of early April, when the daffodils were gleaming and swaying under the trees, and all the air was clean and sweet, Norman and Pamela walked together in the garden and down through the wood. Norman had just come home from Cambridge. He and Pamela had been very little together since the discovery of their love for one another, under the sorrow that had prompted it but forbidden that absorption in themselves which is the usual effect of such discoveries. Perhaps their love was all the deeper because of the sorrow. Pamela had clung to Norman in her grief, and had aroused in him the strongest emotion to pity and protection towards her. Their love had struck deep roots during that sad time.
Then had followed the constant interchange of letters, in which all the marvellous phenomena of their mutual attraction had been minutely explored with one hurried week-end visit from Norman, just to assure himself that Pamela was real flesh and blood, and that she loved him as much as she said she did. Now they would be together for a month, before Norman's final term at Cambridge. Already Pamela's sorrow had become gentler. They would often talk very seriously and soberly together; but they were very young, and they were going to be very happy. It would not be forbidden them to be light-hearted during that Easter vacation.
They were discussing the future now. It involved, immediately, a great deal of work for Norman's final examinations, and a visit from Pamela to Cambridge when their tyranny should be overpast, and more lightsome pursuits would follow. After that?
Well, Cambridge term ends when summer is still young. Wouldn't this be the happiest time for a honeymoon? They would go abroad, to the most beautiful places they could find, within the restricted area which the war had left in Europe for searchers after summer beauty. Then they would come back to England, at the time when England—or perhaps Scotland—offered more than any other country. And some time in the autumn they would make a home for themselves, which gave them more to talk about even than the prospective travels.
Their first home was to be that Town Farm which Colonel Eldridge had so wished he could afford to restore for his own occupation. The visits of the best available architect, and consultation over plans, would very pleasurably occupy the weeks of the vacation. The work would go on while they were abroad, and be finished in the late summer, if the conditions of the building trade permitted. Then there would be the house to furnish, and the garden to make anew. Here was something to dwell upon!
But Pamela had a trifle of doubt in the corner of her mind. "Of course it will be perfectly heavenly living there together," she said. "But I shouldn't like you to lead an altogether idle life."
He laughed at her. "Darling old thing!" he said. "I shall be as busy as the day is long. I had a talk with father last night, which I wanted to tell you about; but there are so many things to say that you've just got to take them as they come. He says I needn't work with the idea of earning my living. It seems that he has been watching me, when I thought he was so busy about other things that I was out of the orbit of his eagle eye. I hardly know how to tell you this without blushing; but he says that if I'd shown myself any sort of a waster he'd have dumped me down on an office stool and seen that I stuck to it, or made me do something equally beastly until I'd made good for myself. He was quite frank, as only a father can be, and said that he had sometimes thought I was a bit too passionate in the pursuit of pleasure. But he'd come to the conclusion that on the whole I had made whatever I had to do for the time being the chief thing. So he thought I could be trusted not to abuse the freedom he was going to give me. And this is where you blush, Pam—he thought you were just the right sort of girl to temper my wayward tendencies. He wasn't sure what I could do best in the world, because I seemed to like doing such lots of things that if he gained an idea of anything special one moment he had to give it up the next. But with you to steady me, I ought to be able to do something. He's a wise bird—the Lord Eldridge of Hayslope. He knows how happy we are going to be together, and he's going to let us be as happy as ever we can. Make people happy, and you'll make 'em good."
"He has been very good to us," said Pamela. "I wasn't quite sure that he was really pleased, at first. It was very sweet of him to talk like that about me. I'm sure there are heaps of things you will do, darling, better than other people; and you know I'll do every mortal thing I can to help you. Uncle Bill shan't be disappointed in me."