He had ordered a carriage to take him to Keswick in time for the early train, so he jumped out of bed as soon as he was called, and went to the window of his room to look out at the weather. The whole country was covered with deep snow. Mountains, rocks, woods, houses, fields, gardens, were alike arrayed in white robes, pure and spotless, and sparkling in the morning sunshine as if covered with countless diamonds.
When, a little later, he went down to the coffee-room, the landlord came to speak to him.
"I'm afraid, sir, you won't be able to go to-day. There's been a terrible snowstorm, and Borrowdale is blocked. It will be impossible to drive through it."
"Surely it is not so deep as that!"
"Not here, sir, nor for about a mile down the valley; but when you come to the turning in the road at the narrowest part of the valley the snow has drifted there to a fearful depth, and for about half a mile the snow is so deep it would be impossible to get through it. We are shut off from Keswick entirely."
"Won't they clear the road?"
"Well, sir, they'll try to make a way through, but it will be a long job. I'm afraid we shan't get through to-day."
"Then there is no help for it," said the Captain. "I must stay."
"Yes, sir; I'm very sorry you should be so inconvenienced, but I'll do my best to make you comfortable; and it's a beautiful country. If you haven't been here before, you might like to see a little of it, and it's good walking round here and on towards Honister, if you care to take a look round."
Yet Kenneth Fortescue was in no hurry to go out, or to leave the great fire in the large grate. He sat beside it with a paper in his hand, reading at times, and at other times gazing at the blue smoke curling up the chimney. And then, after a while, he stood at the window, gazing absently out into the village street. He had much on his mind that morning, and he felt that even the loveliest scenery failed to beguile him from pursuing the troubled train of thought which he felt impelled to follow. But presently he was recalled from the future to the present by seeing Marjorie Douglas pass the window with a covered basket in her hand. Her face looked to him as bright and cheerful as it had done before he had told her the sad news he had come to disclose; the clouds seemed to have dispersed, and the sunshine to have come back to it.