“Wouldn’t it be fine!” said Miss Elizabeth, rousing herself. “Some day we’ll go—you and I together, Katie. We’ll cross the sea, and wander through the countries that we read about in books, and among the great cities that have stood for hundreds and hundreds of years. Wouldn’t you like to see Scotland, Katie, and the heather hills that grannie tells us about; and the great castles that they used to hold against all comers in the old times, and the parks, and the deer, and the gardens full of wonderful flowers, and the lakes and the mountains—only we can see lakes and mountains at home.”
“And the moors and glens where they worshipped in the dark days.”
And so they went on in turn, telling what they would like to see—they were going slowly now—till they came to the bridge again.
“I like to think about it, but it could never be,” said Katie gravely.
“And why not? It might very easily be, I think.”
“But it could never be for me, until—the saddest things had happened. I could never leave my grandfather and my grandmother, and all the rest; only the rest might live till I came back again; but grannie—and him—”
“Yes, Katie, and it is as true for me as for you. Our work is here, and our happiness too; and, after all, we have fallen into sad thoughts again. But we are nearly home now.”
“There was no light in the minister’s study to-night,” said Katie, as they went slowly up the hill. “Nor in the dining-room either. He must be away from home.”
Elizabeth had noticed the darkened window, but she did not say so. Indeed she said nothing. She was thinking: “Perhaps he went in to see my father, knowing I was away.”
And so he had, for when they went into the hall they heard his voice, indeed several voices in the sitting-room. But they went first up-stairs to take off their wraps in Miss Elizabeth’s room, and came down just in time to find the tea-table ready, and the company waiting for them. There was coffee on the table too, for Mr Burnet was there, and Sally knew his tastes.