The beech trees looked very lovely that morning in their pale spring dress, the moss by the side of the road being covered by the pale brown covering of the buds, which had fallen off as the leaves opened. The colouring was perfect, and Marjorie was thoroughly enjoying her walk.
But suddenly, as she turned a corner of the long avenue, far ahead of her, about a hundred yards or more, she saw something which took all the brightness out of her face. She saw Captain Fortescue walking rapidly towards the Castle. Yes, she was sure it was he. She could not see his face of course, but he was the same height, he had the same figure and hair, and he walked in the same erect way. All the feelings which she had been repressing and keeping down for so long rushed back into her heart.
It was hard work to walk steadily on towards the house. She felt dizzy and faint for a few minutes, and turned off the road and sat down upon the gnarled roots of a giant beech tree. But she prayed for strength and courage, and soon walked on again to the Castle. The road was empty now; she could see the great pillars of the portico and the closed door between them; he had evidently gone inside.
Once a wild hope darted across her mind that after all she had jumped to a wrong conclusion. Perhaps Captain Fortescue and Lord Kenmore were after all not the same; and if so, could it be that he had found out where she was, and had come to see whether she was happy at Grantley Castle, just as once before he had come to Daisy Bank?
But this faint hope was dispelled as she went upstairs, for Collins met her as she was going to her room, and said—
"Miss Douglas, perhaps you had better not go to my lady just now. Lord Kenmore has come to see her unexpectedly. His motor broke down just outside the village, and he had to walk the last part of the way."
Marjorie went on into her room, determined to be very busy and to give herself no time to think. She hoped, fervently hoped, that she would not see him. Perhaps he would not be able to stay long, and he would probably go downstairs for luncheon, and then afterwards she would go out in the garden or take a long walk on the hills. Meanwhile she would tidy her drawers, change her dress, and write home.
Marjorie found, however, that the writing was an impossibility; her thoughts would wander to the next room. How well she could picture him sitting in her usual place by Lady Violet's couch! How good he would be to her; how much he would feel for her in her suffering! What a comfort his sympathy and tender care would be to her!
And so more than an hour went by, and then came the sound of a bell, the bell of Lady Violet's sitting-room. This bell rang upstairs in Collins' room, so that her mistress could summon her whenever she required her. She heard Collins come down and go into the next room, and soon afterwards there came a knock at her bedroom door.
"Come in, Collins."