The next morning Cheriton went alone along the path from Oakby to Elderthwaite. His great wish was granted; his father’s place would be worthily filled. Alvar would never be a nobody in the county again, would never seem again out of place as their head. All old sores were healing, all were turning out well—how much better than he could ever have hoped!
Even for hopeless Elderthwaite things looked hopeful; and Cheriton’s quick and kindly thoughts turned to his share in the work of mending them. “If I may,” he thought, “but if not, I think I shall never fear for any one or any place again.”
Too much, perhaps, for the impetuous spirit to promise for itself; but come what might, those who loved Cheriton Lester had little cause to fear for the real welfare of one who loved them so well and looked upward so steadily.
Epilogue.
“Mr Ellesmere! I saw your name in the visitors’ book. So you are taking a holiday in Switzerland?”
“Mr Stanforth! Very glad to meet you. You will put us up to all we ought to see and admire. Are you alone?”
“Yes; you know I have lost my travelling companion. My next girl is still in the schoolroom, and I think will never be so adventurous as Gipsy.”
“You have good accounts, I hope, of Mrs Jack, as we irreverently call her.”