But no; in that case he would write to her mother, she was sure of that. If he was rich and was able to do so, that money would be repaid. She knew that he would never forget his promise, and that the revelation made to him in that letter would in no way alter his former determination. What if her mother had already heard from him? What if she were keeping the secret as a pleasant surprise for her on her return? So her busy thoughts wandered on, as the busy engine, puffing hard at times as they got into the hilly country of the North, bore her onwards towards Cumberland.
Then, as she drew nearer home, her thoughts were all centred on Keswick station. Who would be there to meet her? Which of the home faces would she see first? How eagerly she gazed out of the window long before the station came in sight! How anxiously she scanned the platform as the train began to stop!
Yes, there they were, her mother and Phyllis and Louis Verner. It seemed too good to be true! What a drive home that was, and how much they had to say to each other! How beautiful it all looked! She had never thought that the mountains were so high, or the Lake so lovely, or Borrowdale so fine, or Castle Crag so magnificent. She had loved them all from her childhood; but she thought she had never fully appreciated them until that day.
And then they reached home, her dear cosy home, so free from smoke and dirt and everything ugly or depressing. Little Carl was at the gate. How he had grown since she saw him last! And Leila was at the door, looking much better and stronger, and old Dorcas came running out of the kitchen to welcome her. And now she was in the cheerful dining-room, how lovely it all was! The table seemed laden with good things. It was all so tasteful and pretty, and it was home, and that was best of all.
The days flew very quickly after that. There were so many friends to be seen, there was so much to be said and to be done, that the first ten days seemed to fly on the wings of the wind. Old Mary and her other old women were overjoyed to see her, and sometimes she felt as if she had never really been away. Daisy Bank appeared to her like a dream from which she had awakened.
She went alone one day up the steep pass towards Honister Crag, and thought of the photo which she had seen over the mantlepiece at Birmingham. She wondered where he had bought it, and why he had chosen it. Was it in remembrance of the walk they had had there together? Oh no, of course it could not have been that. It was a beautiful place, and any one who had seen it would be glad to have a picture of it.
Marjorie was charmed to find how well Phyllis had taken her place in her absence. She had shaken off to a great extent the natural indolence of her nature, and had risen to the occasion in a way which Marjorie would hardly have thought possible. Her mother had been cared for and Leila had been waited on, almost as well as Marjorie had done it before she left home, and she felt that she would go back to Daisy Bank with a happy heart, knowing that all was going on well in the home she had left.
Louis Verner was, of course, a constant visitor at Fernbank, and was just the same easy, good-natured fellow as he had ever been. He was now in his third year at Oxford, and was still trying to discover his vocation. His father, however, declared that if Louis came to no decision during that vacation, he should settle the matter for him. It was finally decided that Louis should try to get into the Consular Service, and should sit for an examination to be held the following year. Whether he would be able to succeed in this was, Marjorie thought, extremely doubtful, for Louis had no love for work, and went through life doing as little of it as he possibly could. His motto seemed to be that Irish one which advises you to 'Take it easy, and if you can't take it easy, take it as easy as you can;' and it needs one of life's hardest and sternest lessons, to make men like Louis Verner realize its importance, and shake themselves free from their natural inclination to slackness and inertion.
Nevertheless, Louis was a most amusing companion and a good-hearted affectionate fellow, too affectionate sometimes, Marjorie thought; but she made fun of all his pretty speeches, and treated him, as she always had done, with sisterly candour. He did not mind what she said to him, although she spoke very plainly to him at times, and they were ever the best of friends.
But when Marjorie had been at home about a fortnight, something happened which brought a great cloud over her happiness.