ll get a bonny boat,
And I will sail the sea,
For I maun gang to Love Gregor,
Since he canna come hame to me--"

They did not see Strickland where he stood by the hazels. He let them
go by, watching them with a quiet pleasure. They took the
upward-running lane. Hawthorns in bloom hid them; they were gone like
young deer. Strickland, crossing the stream, went his own way.

The country became more open, with, at this hour, a dreamlike depth
and hush. Down went the sun, but a glow held and wrapped the earth in
hues of faery. When he had walked a mile and more he saw before him
Glenfernie House. In the modern and used moiety seventy years old, in
the ancient keep and ruin of a tower three hundred, it crowned--the
ancient and the latter-day--a craggy hill set with dark woods, and
behind it came up like a wonder lantern, like a bubble of pearl, the
full moon.

CHAPTER II

The tutor, in his own room, put down his fisherman's rod and bag. The
chamber was a small one, set high up, with two deep windows tying the
interior to the yet rosy west and the clearer, paler south. Strickland
stood a moment, then went out at door and down three steps and along a
passageway to two doors, one closed, the other open. He tapped upon
the latter.

"James!"

A boy of fourteen, tall and fair, with a flushed, merry face, crossed
the room and opened the door more widely. "Oh, aye, Mr. Strickland,
I'm in!"

"Is Alexander?"

"Not yet. I haven't seen him. I was at the village with Dandie
Saunderson."

"Do you know what he did with himself?"

"Not precisely."

"I see. Well, it's nearly supper-time."

Back in his own quarters, the tutor made such changes as were needed,
and finally stood forth in a comely suit of brown, with silver-buckled
shoes, stock and cravat of fine cambric, and a tie-wig. Midway in his
toilet he stopped to light two candles. These showed, in the smallest
of mirrors, set of wig and cravat, and between the two a thoughtful,
cheerful, rather handsome countenance.

He had left the door ajar so that he might hear, if he presently
returned, his eldest pupil. But he heard only James go clattering down
the passage and the stair. Strickland, blowing out his candles, left
his room to the prolonged June twilight and the climbing moon.

The stairway down, from landing to landing, lay in shadow, but as he
approached the hall he caught the firelight. The laird had a London
guest who might find a chil