ough and sandy, ran close
to little breaking waves, and then, in the shadow of woods and
overhanging rocks, numerous lights all of a sudden showed themselves.
The machine with a lurch entered something in the nature of a carriage
drive, and I found myself on the threshold of Dorlin--a lodge of unusual
size, which seemed to be almost wading in the water. When the door
opened I was greeted by an odor of peat smoke. An old London butler
conducted me up a flight of stairs, and I was presently in a
drawing-room filled with familiar figures. Besides my host and hostess
and their then unmarried daughters, were Lady Herbert of Lee, Lord
Houghton, the Verulams, and the most delightful of priests, Father
Charles Macdonald, famous as a fisherman, inimitable as a teller of
stories, and great-grandson of fighters who had died for Prince Charlie
at Culloden. One guest at Dorlin, who had left just before my arrival,
was the then Lord Lorne, and I was told by Lady Howard that the boatmen
who had helped him to land--Catholic Macdonalds all of them--had been
heard saying to one another that "not so very long ago no Campbell would
have dared to set foot in the Macdonald country." Not far away there
were still living at that time two old ladies--Macdonalds--whose small
house was a museum of Stuart relics, and who still spoke of the
Pretender with bated breath as "the King."

Here, indeed, were conditions closely resembling those to which I had
looked forward. The past was once more present. The modern spirit of
unrest had, so it seemed to me, retreated to some incredible distance.

Lord Houghton, Father Charles, one of the daughters of the house, and I
invariably beguiled the evenings with a rubber of modest whist. Lord
Houghton was to leave on a Monday morning, and as soon as the dinner of
Sunday night was over he hurried us to our places at the card table for
another and a concluding game. Much to his surprise and annoyance
somebody whispered in his ear that Lord Howard, though an excellent
Catholic, had always had an objection to the playing of cards on
Sundays. "Well," said Lord Houghton, "we must get Lady Herbert to speak
to him about it." Lady Herbert, hearing her name, asked what she was
wanted to do. Lord Houghton explained, and she, in tones of caressing
deprecation, repeated that, as to this matter, Lord Howard was afflicted
with a strong Protestant prejudice. "My dear lady," said Lord Houghton,
taking both her hands, "what's th