would be the distance. At Sandy's Quay he was assured that it was
twelve miles to Glenbogie House; but he soon found that the man who
told him had a pony for hire. "Ye'll nae get there under twalve
mile,--or maybe saxteen, if ye attampt to walk up the glin." So said
the owner of the pony. But milder information came to him speedily.
A little boy would show him the way up the glen for sixpence, and
engage to bring him to the house in an hour and a half. So he started
with the little boy, and after a hot scramble for about two hours he
found himself within the demesne. Poking their way up through thick
bushes from a ravine, they showed their two heads,--first the boy and
then the sculptor,--close by the side of the private road,--just as
Sir Thomas was passing, mounted on his cob. "It's his ain sell," said
the boy, dropping his head again amongst the bushes.

Hamel, when he had made good his footing, had first to turn round
so that the lad might not lose his wages. A dirty little hand came
up for the sixpence, but the head never appeared again. It was well
known in the neighbourhood,--especially at Sandy's Quay, where boats
were used to land,--that Sir Thomas was not partial to visitors who
made their way into Glenbogie by any but the authorised road. While
Hamel was paying his debt, he stood still on his steed waiting to
see who might be the trespasser. "That's not a high road," said Sir
Thomas, as the young man approached him. As the last quarter of an
hour from the bottom of the ravine had been occupied in very stiff
climbing among the rocks the information conveyed appeared to Hamel
to have been almost unnecessary. "Your way up to the house, if you
are going there, would have been through the lodge down there."

"Perhaps you are Sir Thomas Tringle," said Hamel.

"That is my name."

"Then I have to ask your pardon for my mode of ingress. I am going up
to the house; but having crossed the lake from Callerfoot I did not
know my way on this side, and so I have clambered up the ravine." Sir
Thomas bowed, and then waited for further tidings. "I believe Miss
Dormer is at the house?"

"My niece is there."

"My name is Hamel,--Isadore Hamel. I am a sculptor, and used to be
acquainted with her father. I have had great kindness from the whole
family, and so I was going to call upon her. If you do not object, I
will go on to the house."

Sir Thomas sat upon his horse speechless for a minute. He had to
consider whether