husband came in, and took up what he fancied the
thread of the dialogue.

"An' what are we to think o' the man," he said, "at's content no to
un'erstan' what he was at the trible to say? Wad he say things 'at he
didna mean fowk to un'erstan' whan he said them?" "Weel, Anerew," said
his wife, "there's mony a thing he said 'at I can not un'erstan';
naither am I muckle the better for your explainin' o' the same; I maun
jist lat it sit."

Andrew laughed his quiet pleased laugh.

"Weel, lass," he said, "the duin' o' ae thing 's better nor the
un'erstan'in' o' twenty. Nor wull ye be lang ohn un'erstan't muckle
'at's dark to ye noo; for the maister likes nane but the duer o' the
word, an' her he likes weel. Be blythe, lass; ye s' hae yer fill o'
un'erstan'in' yet!"

"I'm fain to believe ye speyk the trowth, Anerew!"

"It 's great trowth," said Donal.

CHAPTER XII.

THE CASTLE.

The next morning came a cart from the castle to fetch his box; and
after breakfast he set out for his new abode.

He took the path by the river-side. The morning was glorious. The sun
and the river and the birds were jubilant, and the wind gave life to
everything. It rippled the stream, and fluttered the long webs
bleaching in the sun: they rose and fell like white waves on the bright
green lake; and women, homely Nereids of the grassy sea, were
besprinkling them with spray. There were dull sounds of wooden
machinery near, but they made no discord with the sweetness of the
hour, speaking only of activity, not labour. From the long bleaching
meadows by the river-side rose the wooded base of the castle. Donal's
bosom swelled with delight; then came a sting: was he already
forgetting his inextinguishable grief? "But," he answered himself, "God
is more to me than any woman! When he puts joy in my heart, shall I
not be glad? When he calls my name shall I not answer?"

He stepped out joyfully, and was soon climbing the hill. He was again
admitted by the old butler.

"I will show you at once," he said, "how to go and come at your own
will."

He led him through doors and along passages to a postern opening on a
little walled garden at the east end of the castle.

"This door," he said, "is, you observe, at the foot of Baliol's tower,
and in that tower is your room; I will show it you."

He led the way up a spiral stair that might almost have gone inside the
newel of the great staircase. Up and up they went, until Donal began