When the astonishment caused by his appearance had partially subsided, a search was instituted for the missing report.  It was found in the remotest recesses of Mr. Vanstone’s capacious pocket, and was read by that gentleman on the spot.

The plain facts, as stated by the engineer, were briefly these:  Frank was not possessed of the necessary abilities to fit him for his new calling; and it was useless to waste time by keeping him any longer in an employment for which he had no vocation.  This, after three years’ trial, being the conviction on both sides, the master had thought it the most straightforward course for the pupil to go home and candidly place results before his father and his friends.  In some other pursuit, for which he was more fit, and in which he could feel an interest, he would no doubt display the industry and perseverance which he had been too much discouraged to practice in the profession that he had now abandoned.  Personally, he was liked by all who knew him; and his future prosperity was heartily desired by the many friends whom he had made in the North.  Such was the substance of the report, and so it came to an end.

Many men would have thought the engineer’s statement rather too carefully worded; and, suspecting him of trying to make the best of a bad case, would have entertained serious doubts on the subject of Frank’s future.  Mr. Vanstone was too easy-tempered and sanguine—­and too anxious, as well, not to yield his old antagonist an inch more ground than he could help—­to look at the letter from any such unfavorable point of view.  Was it Frank’s fault if he had not got the stuff in him that engineers were made of?  Did no other young men ever begin life with a false start?  Plenty began in that way, and got over it, and did wonders afterward.  With these commentaries on the letter, the kind-hearted gentleman patted Frank on the shoulder.  “Cheer up, my lad!” said Mr. Vanstone.  “We will be even with your father one of these days, though he has won the wager this time!”

The example thus set by the master of the house was followed at once by the family—­with the solitary exception of Norah, whose incurable formality and reserve expressed themselves, not too graciously, in her distant manner toward the visitor.  The rest, led by Magdalen (who had been Frank’s favorite playfellow in past times) glided back into their old easy habits with him without an effort.  He was “Frank” with all of them but Norah, who persisted in addressing him as “Mr. Clare.”  Even the account he was now encouraged to give of the reception accorded to him by his father, on the previous night, failed to disturb Norah’s gravity.  She sat with her dark, handsome face steadily averted, her eyes cast down, and the rich color in her cheeks warmer and deeper than usual.  All the rest, Miss Garth included, found old Mr. Clare’s speech of welcome to his son quite irresistible.  The noise and merriment were at their height when the servant came in, and struck the whole party dumb by the announcement of visitors in the drawing-room.  “Mr. Marrable, Mrs. Marrable, and Miss Marrable; Evergreen Lodge, Clifton.”