"One great eternal Yes,
To all my Lord shall say,
To what I know, or yet shall know,
In all the untried way."
And, as Marjorie knelt by her bed, the "Yes, Lord," was said.
When she went downstairs not a sign of trouble was left on her face. They would all feel rather dull that night, she said to herself, and she must try to cheer them.
"I wonder Marjorie can be so merry when she is going away for so long," said Phyllis that night, as she went into Leila's room to say good night to her sister.
"Marjorie never thinks of herself," was Leila's answer; "she only thinks of mother."
Phyllis stooped to kiss little Carl as he lay asleep in his cot, and as she did so, she said to herself that she would try, when Marjorie was gone, to follow in her footsteps.
The next morning was bright and frosty, and the sky was without a single cloud; the hills and dales were flooded with sunshine, which was unusually bright for the time of year. The snow had all gone, and the spring flowers were coming up fast in the garden. As Marjorie went away, she held in her hand a large bunch of violets and snowdrops, which Phyllis had gathered for her before breakfast. Her mother came with her to the gate, where Colonel Verner's dog-cart was waiting, for Louis had promised to drive her into Keswick.
It was hard work to say good-bye to her mother, but Marjorie tried to do it with a bright face; she did not want to make it harder for her mother at that moment. Then she got up beside Louis; and Phyllis, who was coming to see her off, jumped up behind.
Marjorie turned round as they drove over the bridge, and saw her mother and little Carl at the garden gate, still looking after her. She looked up at the house, and at old Dorcas, who had come to the door, and was waving her apron, and, higher still, she saw Leila, watching from the bedroom window, and she was afraid that she was crying.
Never did Borrowdale look more beautiful in Marjorie's eyes! She gazed long and lovingly at every mountain peak that came in sight; she longed to store away in her memory each bit of the loveliness, so that when she was far away she might refresh herself by the recollection of it all.