The branch
train soon started, and in another hour he would be at Fairholm.
It was not till then that his home feelings woke in all their intensity.
He had not been there for a year. At Roslyn the summer holidays were
nine weeks, and the holidays at Christmas and Easter were short, so that
it had not been worth while to travel so far as Fairholm, and Eric had
spent his Christmas with friends in another part of the island. But now
he was once more to see dear Fairholm, and his aunt, his cousin Fanny,
and above all, his little brother. His heart was beating fast with joy,
and his eyes sparkling with pleasure and excitement. As he thrust his
head out of the window, each well-remembered landmark gave him the
delicious sensation of meeting again an old friend. "Ah! there's the
white bridge, and there's the canal, and the stile; and _there_ runs the
river, and there's Velvet Lawn. Hurrah! here we are." And springing out
of the train before it had well stopped, he had shaken hands heartily
with the old coachman, who was expecting him, and jumped up into the
carriage in a moment.
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