Mrs. O. F. Walton

“ So Kenneth Fortescue returned to Birmingham, feeling as if he had been on the very threshold of Elysium, and then had been relentlessly drawn back into a land of toil, anxiety, and privation. It was hard to settle down again to the weary routine of his daily duties; the little back parlour had never seemed so dismal before. He was as far as ever from gaining his proper position in the world, and, whilst matters continued as they were, he saw no prospect of having a home of his own, and therefore no hope of being able to win Marjorie Douglas's love. ”

“ And here are the two babies. Come and kiss Miss Douglas, Bob and Evie. They're very dirty; they almost always are dirty, but they're such darlings!"
"How old are they?" asked Marjorie, as she stooped to kiss the cleanest part of the dirty little cheeks.
"Just three; they're twins, you know. Now run away, children; Miss Douglas must come and see mother."
She spoke as though they were all many years younger than herself, and as if all the cares of the household rested on her shoulders. Marjorie followed her upstairs, and she led the way into a bedroom where Mrs. Holtby was lying in bed. ”

“ London Pride was, perhaps, the only one which did not appear to be depressed by its surroundings, and which might justly have changed its name to Daisy Bank Pride.
But the old man was proud of them all, and beamed with delight when Marjorie stooped to examine them. That tiny garden was the joy of his heart, as dear to him as the lovely home garden had been to her, and quite as beautiful in his eyes.
"It's a wonder that anything will grow here," she said.
"Ay, it's unlikely soil; but the Lord's plants do thrive sometimes in that."
"Yes," said Marjorie, for she did not quite see what he meant. ”

“ He also told her how he had made him promise to acquaint her of the loss by word of mouth, instead of sending the bad news in a letter.
She listened very quietly, and almost as if she were mentally stunned by the blow that had fallen upon her. For some minutes she did not speak, and then she asked—
"Are you sure there is no hope of recovering anything?"
"None, I'm afraid," said Captain Fortescue. "I wish I could give you any hope, but I fear I cannot. It is hard for you to hear, very, very hard, and oh! How hard for me to tell!"
"I'm sure it is," said Marjorie. ”

“ Thus Marjorie was going home with a happy heart, prepared to thoroughly enjoy her well-earned holiday.
Perhaps our thoughts are never more busily occupied than when we are travelling. As our bodies are being rapidly carried over miles of distance, our thoughts wander further still. As our eyes gaze out of the carriage window upon the various scenes through which we are passing, the eyes of our mind are gazing at other scenes, it may be in far-distant lands. We see the views around us as if we saw them not, for the inner pictures are so vivid that they eclipse the outward ones. ”

“ Marjorie took the candle and went down the rickety stairs. A cold wind blew up from the vault-like dairy as she passed the flight of stone steps leading down to it. She felt almost like a thief herself, as she crossed the kitchen and made her way to the ancient fireplace. There was the old oak cupboard, the door of which had often attracted her attention by its quaint appearance.
The small cupboard was locked, but the key was in it. She turned it in the lock, and the carved door flew open. She hunted amongst the rubbish with which it was filled, but she found no box. ”

“ Why had his father asked him to do this thing?
They were passing through the narrowest part of Borrowdale, where the steep hills confront each other closely in all their rugged beauty. At the bottom of the gorge the river was rushing madly over its rocky bed; overhead towered the mighty Castle Crag, guarding the narrow pass. Every kind of beauty of rock and wood and river, of mossy bank and fern-covered glade, seemed crowded together in that lovely spot.
"What do you think of it, Mr. Fortescue?"
"Glorious!" he said. "How delightful to live amongst it all!" ”

“ It covers it with a carpet of primroses, it draws through its woods a pale-blue lining of wild hyacinths, it makes its fields into cloth of gold with buttercups; whilst the fresh green of the silver birch, the bursting buds of the chestnuts, the countless signs in every flower, bush, and tree of awakening resurrection life, combine to make the whole valley a perfect fairyland.
So Marjorie Douglas thought, as she set out that spring morning, and began to climb the hill behind Fern Bank, in order that she might pay her weekly visit to one of her favourite old women. ”

“ We were making all the plans about the wedding, and actually had patterns in the house for choosing the bridesmaids' dresses; and now here I am, lying helpless on my back, and my wedding put off indefinitely. It is an awful shame!"
"Don't say that, Lady Violet," said Marjorie, "because God has sent the trouble; hasn't He?"
"Then I think God is very cruel! What pleasure can it be to Him to punish me like this?"
"He doesn't like to see you suffer, Lady Violet. Oh, don't ever think that! It is because He loves you He has let this trouble come." ”

“ If you was to make a promise to somebody, and if it was a wicked promise that you had no business to have made, ought you to keep it?"
"Certainly not," said Marjorie. "It would be wrong to make a wicked promise, and it would also be wrong to keep it when you had made it."
"Do you think so, my dear? Are you sure?"
"Quite sure."
"Then listen, dearie, and I'll tell you. I feel as if I can't die till I do. I feel as if I must tell somebody. See? You know who Carrie is?" ”

“ MARJORIE did not speak whilst she was reading the whole of that long letter, and Kenneth Fortescue sat and watched her, just as before she had sat and watched him. He saw her face flush as she read on, and once he felt sure that he saw a tear drop on the page. When at last she handed him the letter, she said—
"How could he be so cruel? It was awfully heartless, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was most unnatural; but such things have been done before. Even a mother has been known to desert her own child." ”

“ HOW long the waiting-time seemed to Marjorie as she sat in the dingy back parlour on that wet afternoon! she felt sometimes as if six o'clock would never come. As it grew darker, the stout landlady came in and lighted the gas; there was only one burner, and it gave but a dim light. Then, later still, she came again to lay the cloth for tea. Such a poor scanty meal, the loaf and a small pat of butter—that was all. There were no flowers on the table, there was nothing to relieve the bareness and austere simplicity of it all. Marjorie's heart ached for him as she looked at it. ”

“ No one should know; no one should ever guess what she had sometimes thought and hoped. Least of all should Lady Violet know or guess.
So Marjorie talked to her on all manner of subjects, and was apparently never in better spirits, until at last the long evening wore away, and alone in her own room she could sit by her fire, and gazing into its red blaze she could pull down stone after stone of her fragile castle in the air, and then, when it was all laid in ruins, could pray for contentment and for peace. ”

“ There lay the beautiful old Castle beneath him—his home—the home of which he had been cruelly deprived by the man he had just seen—a man who had no right to the name of father. A great feeling of anger rose up in his heart against this man, who was living in luxury and splendour, whilst his own son was struggling on, obliged to be content with the bare necessaries of life. ”

“ She ended by saying that she could hardly bear to think that Marjorie was not coming back to them; it was one of the most painful consequences of her heavy bereavement.
So that chapter of Marjorie's life was ended. Daisy Bank was, as far as she was concerned, nothing but a memory of the past. Never more would she climb the pit mounds, or watch old Enoch tending his roses, or walk amongst the furnace débris. A year ago she would not have believed that she would have felt the parting so much as she did, nor that she would have so many pleasant remembrances of their Black Country. ”

“ Mr. Holtby never went to any place of worship; both he and his wife had fallen into careless ways, and had become accustomed, after years of neglect, to regard Sunday as little more than an excuse for a better dinner than usual, and an opportunity for a certain amount of self-indulgence.
One day in the early summer, when the sun was shining as brightly in Daisy Bank as in more favoured spots, Marjorie was standing at old Enoch's door, once more admiring his roses. They were actually coming into bud, and the old man's excitement was great as he counted the coming blossoms. ”

“ Even so, I think it is a long name—ten or twelve letters, I should say."
"Oh, I wish we knew!" said Marjorie.
"I wish it very much for one reason, Miss Douglas."
"What is that?"
"If I were to find my father, and if he were prepared to own me, or were compelled to do so, I could repay Mrs. Douglas in full."
"Oh, why are you always thinking of that? You must not do so," she said. "You are stinting yourself and making your life miserable, just for us. And it isn't right. Oh, it isn't right!" ”

“ He drove in at the great gates, which were opened by the lodge-keeper as the carriage was heard approaching. The drive was made through a beautiful avenue of beech trees, and led steeply uphill. The house stood on a plateau, from which was a glorious view of the valley below and the wooded hills beyond. The door was opened by a footman, and Kenneth entered a magnificent marble hall, filled with palms and other hothouse plants, tastefully grouped round the lovely statuary, which was of pure white marble like the portico in which it stood. ”

“ At the gate she stopped.
"How can I thank you, Miss Douglas?"
"Don't try!" she said, laughing. "Can you find your way now, do you think?"
"Oh yes, quite well. Good-bye. I am off early to-morrow morning."
"Then we shall not see you again?"
"No," he said sadly, "perhaps never again. Birds of ill omen are never welcome—are they?"
"Oh! Don't call yourself that," she said. "Good-bye, Captain Fortescue."
He had left her, and was going towards the bridge, when he thought he heard her calling. He looked back, and saw that she was still standing at the gate with the lantern in her hand. ”

“ His face was as unlike that of Captain Fortescue as it was possible for two faces to be. The figure, the build, and the colour of the hair were exactly similar, so that Marjorie was not surprised that, as he walked before her in the drive, she had imagined that he was Captain Fortescue; but the features, the eyes, and, above all, the expression of his face, were totally different.
Lord Kenmore was an exceedingly plain man, with the palest of blue eyes, which seemed wholly devoid of expression, with thin lips, a pallid, unhealthy-looking face, and a most cynical and unpleasant expression. ”

“ He had been educated out of his proper position; his friends and acquaintances were all men moving in an utterly different circle; his sympathies and interests and attractions were in a sphere which he could never have any right to enter. If Lady Earlswood had seen his father, she would never have dreamt for a moment of inviting him to her Christmas house-party or of reckoning him amongst her friends.
Captain Fortescue was a most honourable man, and he felt sometimes as if he were a walking impostor. ”

“ 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. ”

“ But, as they grow older, the mother-bird wants them to learn to fly, that they may be able to soar up with her towards the sun. So she hovers over them and tries to persuade them to stretch their wings; but the nest is far too cosy and snug for them to want to leave it, and they nestle down again in the moss and hay. But the mother knows all they will lose if they do not learn to fly, so she rakes out the wool and feathers with her strong beak, and makes the thorns and briars come to the top. Then, when all the soft lining is gone, the young birds shuffle about uncomfortably. ”