Richard's mind was promptly made up. There was to be an expedition for the purpose of observing a total eclipse of the sun, visible in Southern latitudes, but not in England. He announced his intention of joining it, pleaded that he wanted a shake-up, that he was growing old and rusty by dint of over-petting and self-indulgence; and, in short, that he must go.
Before Miss Pease received another letter conveying a message of thanks for his congratulations, Richard had completed his arrangements and was on his way to Mauritius.
Whilst there he saw in the "Times," for February 27, an announcement of the marriage, at Cannes, of Sir Edward Peyton, Bart., and Eleanor Pease. It was simply worded, and as the "Queen" did not fall into his hands, Richard missed many details about dresses, bridesmaids, etc., some of which might have proved interesting.
He wondered a little that almost nothing was said in subsequent home letters about this marriage. Miss Pease did just mention that Eleanor's wedding had taken place, and there were allusions in some of his sisters' epistles to the good match made by her niece, but Norah, as the Norah of Mere Side, was not mentioned, or only in the most cursory way.
"Perhaps they guess," thought Richard, "and are silent for my sake. Thank God, for Norah's! From all I have been able to ascertain she has married a good man, and I pray that she may be happy. I would not grudge her to the husband of her choice, but somehow I cannot believe that any tie existed when she was with us. If I had only spoken, or gone when she did to meet her father—but it is too late."
It was not until the May twelve months after leaving home that Richard Whitmore set foot in England again.
He joined one scientific party after another, and went to and fro, adding much to his store of knowledge, and finding in change of scene and the habit of close observation, which gave him work for every day, the best remedy for the wound which healed but slowly.
Then he had to come home, to open his hands for more wealth. A distant cousin had left him thirty thousand pounds. When the news reached him he said, "This, divided into four and added to the little belonging to the girls, will give each of them ten thousand pounds, for the Maynards do not want it. There will be more for them by and by, from their bachelor brother, for I shall never marry now."
He did not tell them this, or even about the legacy at first. He had to hear of all that had passed during his absence, to note that Molly, now turned seventeen, was more like Norah Pease, slenderer and more thoughtful-looking than of old.
It was Dick's absence that had made her the last. Little Miss Pease's hair was greyer, but it just suited her delicately fresh complexion. Nina and Jo had altered less than Molly, but Gertrude was the most changed of all.