“Worth our while!” repeated Graeme. “It was not indifference that hindered us, you may be sure of that. I wonder, myself, how it is we have never gone back again. When we first came here, how Will, and Rosie, and I, used to plan and dream about it! I may confess, now, how very homesick we all were—how we longed for you. But, at first, the expense would have been something to consider, you know; and afterwards, other things happened to prevent us. We were very near going once or twice.”
“And when was that?” asked Mrs Snow, seemingly intent on her knitting, but all the time aware that the old shadow was hovering over Graeme. She did not answer immediately.
“Once was with Norman and Hilda. Oh! I did so long to go with them! I had almost made up my mind to go, and leave Rosie at home. I was glad I didn’t, afterward.”
“And why did you not?” demanded her friend.
“For one thing, we had been away a long time in the summer, and I did not like to leave home again; Arthur did not encourage me to go. It was on the very night that Norman went away that Arthur told me of his engagement.”
“I daresay you did right to bide at home, then.”
“Yes, I knew it was best, but that did not prevent me wishing very much to go. I had the greatest desire to go to you. I had no one to speak to. I daresay it would not have seemed half so bad, if I could have told you all about it.”
“My dear, you had your sister.”
“Yes, but Rosie was as bad as I was. It seemed like the breaking up of all things. I know now, how wrong and foolish I was, but I could not help being wretched then.”
“It was a great change, certainly, and I dinna wonder that the prospect startled you.”