Five years have gone by since Mr. and Mrs. Carroll returned from Canada to
the little house on the moor which they have never left, or desired to
leave, since.
Mr. Carroll's health suffered severely from the long strain and the
rigour of his life abroad, and he was never again fit for hard work.
But grandpapa Carroll, recognising the brave fight he had made,
forgave him the misfortunes he had met with earlier and altered his will,
so that when he died, not long after Mr. Carroll's return, the little
family, though still obliged to be economical, and not above being glad of
the girls' little earnings, were placed beyond all want.
Esther still lived with Cousin Charlotte, the prop and mainstay of the
house, for Anna had married Ephraim and moved into the cottage next door
to Mrs. Bennett's. Angela, pulling her bow at a venture on that birthday
night, so long ago now, had hit the truth when she said that Anna could
not think better of Ephraim after that evening because she thought so well
of him already. A truth Ephraim found out for himself in time, though it
took him two years longer to do so.
Finding it was no use waiting to speak until he found her in a gentle mood
he spoke out then and there, and no one could decide whether Anna was most
astonished at being asked or Ephraim at being accepted. However, when
once the need for concealment of her true feelings was over Anna's manner
to Ephraim changed so markedly that Ephraim often stopped to wonder if the
woman he had married could possibly be the one who had led him such a life
before. Love can work miracles, Ephraim found, and came to the conclusion
that whether she was the same or not he was quite content.
It was a great blow to Miss Charlotte to lose her Anna, but more than one
nice little maiden was only too anxious to come to 'a place' where the
last servant had stayed twenty years; and Esther, and the fortunate maid
chosen to fill Anna's shoes, combined to prevent Miss Charlotte feeling
her loss too deeply.
Esther's hands had grown very full as time had gone on, and the fuller
they grew the happier she was. Slowly and almost imperceptibly
Miss Charlotte gave up more and more of her work, and took life easily,
feeling she could leave all to her Esther, and know that all was well.
Angela's hens were moved to Four Winds, and Esther took over the
responsibility of the poultry yard as well as the house and the kitchen
and the new maid. But in the midst of all her duties she contrived to
give a good deal of her time to her dearly loved Mademoiselle, for
Mademoiselle was failing, and those who loved her best knew that not for
very much longer would they have the joy of her presence.
Penelope was away in London, studying with all her heart and strength,
for in the sweet pure air of the moor her voice had developed beyond
everyone's expectation, and Mademoiselle Leperier never rested until she
had been sent to study under a distinguished master. The question as to
ways and means had been a very serious one, but while it was being
anxiously discussed, and almost abandoned in despair, Miss Row came
forward, and with unwonted delicacy asked to be allowed to play the part
of fairy godmother to her favourite.
"I shall only be laying out a little to buy myself a big return some day,"
she pleaded. "If you will let me have a share in Penelope's success the
kindness will be all on your part."
So Penelope went away from their midst to stirring scenes of life and
work, weeping at leaving her beloved moor, and vowing to return as soon
and as often as might be,--a vow she never forgot.
Angela's dream in time was realised too. Her dream poultry farm became a
real one, and the most successful in the country. Very slowly at first
she added penny to penny, then shilling to shilling, then pound to pound,
until at last, instead of building more hens' houses, she bought a cow.
It was an experiment, and one those about doubted the success of; but
Angela never doubted, and presently another cow was added to her stock,
and soon after that they all moved to a small farm, where Poppy had to
become the little housewife, for Angela's time was quite taken up with her
dairy.
Poppy's market-gardening scheme never got beyond the bed of parsley.
With that one success she decided to be satisfied. "It was a most
wonderful pennyworth," she often remarked, "for it brought me quite a lot
of money, and Mademoiselle as a friend, and nothing could have been better
than that."
"Nothing," said Esther softly. "Life is very wonderful, Poppy dear, isn't
it?"
"Very," answered Poppy sagely, with a serious shake of her curly head.
One last scene before we bid them all good-bye!
It is Easter time once more. In the orchards and woods the daffodils are
bowing their golden heads, as though awed by the beauty of the
pear-blossom spreading between them and the glorious blue sky.
The hedges are starred with primroses, daisies, and king-cups, the air is
sweet with the scent of flowers and the fresh earth. Everything seems
brimming over with sunshine and happiness and joy of living. Easter is in
the heart of all things animate and inanimate.
Up in 'the Castle' the four girls are gathered as of old, but with one big
gap in their circle. Guard, dear old Guard, will never accompany them
more in their wanderings. He sleeps his last long sleep in the breast of
the moor he loved so well. Yet he is with them in spirit and thought,
for he lies buried close beside 'the Castle,' and they feel he is near
them whenever they go there.
Easter is in their hearts, too, for Penelope is home for her holidays and
Angela has just returned from a much-dreaded duty visit to Aunt Julia,
and their joy at being together again is intense.
Penelope lies in her old attitude, flat on the moor, one cheek pressed
close to its breast, her eyes gazing in a perfect rapture of delight over
the length and breadth of it.
"I _almost_ think," she says softly, "it is worth going away to have the
joy of coming home again; to step out of that dear little station, and
then to turn the corner and see--this," waving her hand in a wide sweep.
"Oh, girls, shall you ever forget the first time we came, and how we
dreaded it, and how shy we were, and frightened--"
"Until we saw Cousin Charlotte," chimed in Esther. "I never felt
frightened after that."
"And do you remember," burst in Angela, "our dear little rooms, and how
lovely it all looked when we came that night, and dear old Guard,"--her
voice wavered and dropped--"came out to meet us, and Anna?"
"And I was so troubled about our clothes because we were so shabby, and--
but it never seemed to matter much. Cousin Charlotte made everything come
right. Isn't it wonderful, all that has happened just through mother's
writing to Cousin Charlotte, and Cousin Charlotte being able to take us!"
"Wonderful," said Penelope softly; and back to her mind as through a vague
dream came a vision of a child lying amidst the long coarse grass of an
untidy garden, with butterflies, yellow and white and brown, flitting
about over her head, while through her mind as she watched them passed
visions and dreams of the future, and vague wonderings as to what it would
bring.
"And this is what it has brought," she thought to herself. "I shall not
be afraid to take the next step now. God has been so good to us."
End of Project Gutenberg's The Carroll Girls, by Mabel Quiller-Couch