His first inspection was of the castle itself, which he undertook under the auspices16 of old Symington and old Macalister, both eager to explain and describe what it had been, as well as what it was. What it was did not consist of very much. “My lord’s rooms,” those in which he had spent the night, were the only habitable portion of the great pile. He was led through the roofless hall, with its musicians’ gallery still perched high up and overshadowed with canopies17 of ashen18 boughs19, vigorous though leafless; the guard-room, the supposed kitchen with its large chimney, the oblong space from east to west which was supposed to have been the chapel20. All was a little incoherent in the completeness of ruin. There was little of the stimulation21 of family pride to be got out of those desolate22 places. The destruction was too complete to leave room even for the facile web of imagination. The Crusader, about whom there was a legend a little too picturesque and romantic to be true, or the lady who was only saved by his sudden appearance from unfaithfulness, were not more easy to conjure23 up within the inclosure of those shapeless walls than on any unremarkable spot where the story might have been told. Walter grew a little weary as Symington and the old guardian24 of the house argued as to which was this division of the castle, and which that. He left them discussing the question, and climbed up by a rude stair which had been half improvised25 from the ruined projections26 of the masonry27, to the crumbling28 battlements above. From thence he looked down upon a scene which was older than the oldest ruin, yet ever fresh in perennial29 youth: the loch stretched out like a great mirror under the wintry blue of the sky and the dazzling blaze of the sunshine, reflecting everything, every speck30 of cloud above and every feathery twig31 and minute island below. There was no need to make believe, to simulate unfelt enthusiasm, or endeavour to connect with unreal associations this wonderful and glorious scene. Perhaps there was in his mind something more in harmony with the radiance of nature than with the broken fragments of a history which he had no skill to piece up into life again. He stood gazing upon the scene in a rapture32 of silent delight. The hills in their robes of velvet33 softness, ethereal air-garments more lovely than any tissue ever woven in mortal loom34, drew aside on either hand in the blue space and dazzling atmosphere to open out this liquid vale of light, with its dark specks35 of islets, its feathery banks, all rustling37 with leafless trees. Every outline and detail within its reach was turned into a line, a touch, more sweet by the flattering glory of the still water in which everything was double. The morning freshness and sheen were still unbroken. It was like a new creation lying contemplating38 itself in the first ecstasy39 of consciousness. Walter was gazing upon this wonderful scene when the sharp voice of old Macalister made him start, and take a step aside which almost had serious consequences: for he stepped back unwarily upon the crumbling wall, and might have fallen but for the violent grip of the old man, who clutched him like a shaky Hercules, with a grasp which was vigorous yet trembling.
“Lord’s sake take care,” he cried. His face flushed, then paled again with genuine emotion. “Do you think we have a store of young lads like you, that you will risk your life like yon? and just in the place where the lady fell. You have given me such a start I canna breathe,” he cried.
To tell the truth, looking back upon it, Walter himself did not like the look of the precipice40 which he had escaped.
“Where the lady fell?” he asked with a little eagerness, as he came to the battlement.
“Oh ay. I seldom bother my head about what’s happened, so to speak, two or three days since. It was just there she fell. She has been bedridden ever since, from a’ I hear, which just shows the folly41 of venturing about an auld42 place without somebody that knows how to take care of ye. What would have come of you yoursel’, that is the maister of a’, if auld Sandy Macalister had not been there?”
“Thank you, Macalister, you shall find me grateful,” said Walter; “but who was this lady? two or three days ago, did you say?”
“Years—years; did I no say years? Oh ay, it may be longer, twenty or thirty. I’m meaning just naething in a life like mine. She had some silly story of being frightened with a gentleman that she thought she saw. They are keen about making up a story—women folk. She was just the sister to the man of business, ye’ll have heard of her—a pretty bit thing, if that was of any consequence; but, Lord’s sake, what’s that atween you and me, and you ignorant of everything?” the old man said. “Do you see the chimneys yonder, and the gable end with the crow steps, as they call it, just pushing out among the trees? That’s just your ain shooting-box—they call it Auchnasheen. I’ll tell you the meanings of the names another time. Out beyond yonder, the big house away at the point, it’s a new place built for his diversion by one of your new men. Yon island far away that’s bare and green is the island of Rest, where all the loch was once buried: and atween us and that there’s another isle36 with a gable end among the trees which is just the last place that’s left to an auld race to plant their feet upon. It’s a bonnie piece of water; you that’s come from the south you’ll never have seen the like. I’ll tell you all the stories of the divers43 places, and how they’re connected with the Me’vens that are chiefs of Loch Houran; for I wouldna give a button for that new-fangled title of the Lords Erradeen.”
“It has lasted however for some centuries,” said Walter, with a sudden sense of displeasure which he felt to be absurd enough.
“And what is that in a family?” said old Macalister, “I think nothing of it. A hundred years or two that never counts one way nor another; it’s nae antiquity44. If that nonsense were true about the Warlock lord, he would be but twa hundred and fifty at the present speaking, or thereabouts, and a’ that have ever thought they saw him represent him as a fine personable man. I have never had that pleasure myself,” the old man said with his shrill45 laugh. “Where are you going, my young gentleman? Ye’ll just go down like a stane and end in a rattle46 of dust and mortar47, if you’ll no be guided by me.”
“Let you his lordship alone, Sandy,” cried the voice of Symington, intermingled with pants and sobs49 as he climbed up to the parapet. “Ye must not occupy my lord’s time with your old craiks. You would perhaps like, my lord, to visit Auchnasheen, where the keeper will be on the outlook: or may be it would be better to organise50 your day’s shooting for to-morrow, when you have lookit a little about you: or ye would perhaps like to take a look at the environs, or see the factor, who is very anxious as soon as your lordship has a moment—”
“Oh! and there is the minister that can tell ye a’ about the antiquities51, my lord: and traces out the auld outline of the castle grandly, till ye seem to see it in all its glory—”
“Or—” Symington had begun, when Walter turned at bay. He faced the old men with a half-laughing defiance52. “I see plenty of boats about,” he said. “I am going out to explore the loch. I want no attendance, or any help, but that you will be good enough to leave me to myself.”
“We’ll do that, my lord. I will just run and cry upon Duncan that is waiting about—”
The end of all this zeal53 and activity was that when Walter found himself at last free and on the shining bosom54 of the loch, he was in a boat too heavy for his own sole management, sharing the care of it with Duncan, who was of a taciturn disposition55 and answered only when spoken to. This made the arrangement almost as satisfactory as if he had been alone, for Duncan was quite willing to obey and yield a hearty57 service without disturbing his young master with either questions or remarks. He was a large young man, strong and well knit though somewhat heavy, with a broad smiling face, red and freckled58, with honest blue eyes under sandy eyelashes, and a profusion59 of strong and curly reddish hair. He beamed upon Lord Erradeen with a sort of friendly admiration60 and awe61, answering, “Ay, my lord,” and “No, my lord,” always with the same smile of general benevolence62 and readiness to comply with every desire. When they had got beyond hail of the castle, from which Symington and Macalister watched them anxiously, Duncan mutely suggested the elevation63 of a mast and setting of the sail which the vessel64 was furnished with, to which Walter assented65 with eagerness: and soon they were skimming along before a light wind as if they had wings. And now began perhaps the most pleasurable expedition that Walter had ever made in his life. Escaped from the ruinous old pile, within which he had feared he knew not what, escaped too from the observation and inspection of the two old men so much better acquainted with the history of his family than himself, whom he felt to be something between keepers and schoolmasters—fairly launched forth66 upon the world, with nothing to consult but his own pleasure, Walter felt his spirits rise to any height of adventure. There was not indeed any very wild adventure probable, but he was not much used to anything of the kind, and the sense of freedom and freshness in everything was intoxicating67 to the young man. The small boat, the rag of a sail, the lively wind that drove them along, the rushing ripple68 under their keel, all delighted him. He held the helm with a sense of pleasure almost beyond anything he had ever known, feeling all the exhilaration of a discoverer in a new country, and for the first time the master of himself and his fate. Duncan said nothing, but grinned from ear to ear, when the young master in his inattention to, or to tell the truth ignorance of, the capabilities69 of the boat, turned the helm sharply, bringing her up to the wind in such a way as to threaten the most summary end for the voyage. He kept his eye upon the rash steersman, and Walter was not aware of the risks he ran. He directed his little vessel now here, now there, with absolute enjoyment70, running in close ashore71 to examine the village, turning about again in a wild elation72 to visit an island, running the very nose of the boat into the rocky banks or feathery bushwood. How it was that no harm came as they thus darted73 from point to point Duncan never knew. He stood up roused to watchfulness74, with his eyes intent on the movements of his master ready to remedy any indiscretion. It was in the nature of such undeserved vigilance that the object of it was never aware of it, but to be sure Duncan had his own life to think of too.
They had thus swept triumphantly75 down the loch, the wind favouring, and apparently76 watching over the rash voyager as carefully, as and still more disinterestedly77 than Duncan. The motion, the air, the restless career, the novelty, and the freedom enchanted78 Walter. He felt like a boy in his first escapade, with an intoxicating sense of independence and scorn of danger which gave zest79 to the independence. At every new zigzag80 he made, Duncan but grinned the more. He uttered the Gaelic name of every point and isle, briefly81, with guttural depth, out of his chest, as they went careering along before the wind. The boat was like an inquisitive visitor, too open for a spy, poking82 in to every corner. At length they came to an island standing83 high out of the water, with a rocky beach, upon which a boat lay carefully hauled up, and a feathery crest84 of trees, fine clumps85 of fir, fringed and surrounded by a luxuriant growth of lighter86 wood. In the midst of this fine network of branches, such as we call bare, being leafless, but which in reality are all astir with life restrained, brown purple buddings eager to start and held in like hounds in a leash—rose the solid outline of a house, built upon the ridge87 of rock, and appearing like a shadow in the midst of all the anatomy88 of the trees.
“That will be joost the leddy’s,” cried Duncan; at which Walter’s heart, so light in his bosom, gave an additional leap of pleasure. He steered89 it so close that Duncan’s vigilance was doubly taxed, for the least neglect would have sent the little vessel ashore. Walter examined the little landing, the rocky path that led up the bank, winding90 among the trees, and as much as could be made out of the house, with keen interest. The man with the red shirt, who had been the young lady’s boatman on the previous day, appeared at the further point as they went on. He was fishing from a rock that projected into the water, and turning to gaze upon the unwary boat, with astonished eyes, shouted something in Gaelic to Duncan, who nodded good-humouredly a great many times, and replied with a laugh in the same tongue—
“Yon will joost be Hamish,” said Duncan.
“What is he saying?” cried Walter.
“He will just be telling us to mind where we are going,” said Duncan, imperturbable91.
“Tell him to mind his own business,” cried Walter, with a laugh. “And who is Hamish, and who is the leddy? Come, tell me all about it.” His interest in the voyage flagged a little at this point.
Duncan thus interrogated92 was more put to it than by the dangerous course they had hitherto been running.
“It will joost be the leddy,” he said; “and Hamish that’s her man: and they will joost be living up there like ither persons, and fearing God: fery decent folk—oh, joost fery decent folk.”
“I never doubted that. But who are they, and what are they? And do you mean to say they live there, on that rock, in winter, so far north?”
“Walter looked up at the dazzling sky, and repented93 his insinuation: but he was, alas94, no better than an Englishman, when all was said, and he could not help a slight shiver as he looked back. Hamish, who had made a fine point of colour on his projecting rock, had gone from that point, and was visible in his red shirt mounting the high crest of the island with hurried appearances and disappearances95 as the broken nature of the ground made necessary. He had gone, there seemed little doubt, to intimate to the inhabitants the appearance of the stranger. This gave Walter a new thrill of pleasure, but it took away his eagerness about the scenery. He lay back languidly, neglecting the helm, and as he distracted Duncan’s attention too, they had nearly run aground on the low beach of the next island. When this difficulty was got over, Walter suddenly discovered that they had gone far enough, and might as well be making their way homeward, which was more easily said than done; for the wind, which had hitherto served their purpose nobly, was no longer their friend. They made a tack96 or two, and crept along a little, but afterwards resigned themselves to ship the sail and take to the oars98, which was not so exhilarating nor so well adapted to show the beauty of the landscape. It took them some time to make their way once more past the rocky point, and along the edge of the island which attracted Walter’s deepest interest, but to which he could not persuade Duncan to give any name.
“It will joost be the leddy’s,” the boatman insisted on saying, with a beaming face; but either his English or his knowledge was at fault, and he went no further.
Walter’s heart beat with a kind of happy anxiety, a keen but pleasant suspense99, as he swept his oar97 out of the water, and glanced behind him to measure how near they were to the landing, at which he had a presentiment100 something more interesting than Hamish might be seen. And as it turned out, he had not deceived himself. But what he saw was not what he expected to see.
The lady on the bank was not his fellow-traveller of yesterday. She was what Walter to himself, with much disappointment, called an old lady, wrapped in a large furred mantle101 and white fleecy wrap about her head and shoulders. She stood and waved her hand as Walter’s boat came slowly within range.
“You will be joost the leddy,” said Duncan of the few words; and with one great sweep of his oar he turned the boat towards the landing. It was the man’s doing, not the master’s; but the master was not sorry to take advantage of this sudden guidance. It was all done in a moment, without intention. Hamish stood ready to secure the boat, and before he had time to think, Walter found himself on the little clearing above the stony102 bit of beach, hat in hand, glowing with surprise and pleasure, and receiving the warmest of welcomes.
“You will forgive me for just stopping you on your way,” the lady said; “but I was fain to see you, Lord Erradeen, for your father and I were children together. I was Violet Montrose. You must have heard him speak of me.”
“I hope,” said Walter, with his best bow, and most ingratiating tone, “that you will not consider it any fault of mine; but I don’t remember my father; he died when I was a child.”
“Dear me,” cried the lady; “how could I be so foolish! Looking at you again, I see you would not be old enough for that: and, now I remember, he married late, and died soon after. Well, there is no harm done. We are just country neighbours, and as I was great friends with Walter Methven some five-and-forty years ago——”
“I hope,” said the young man with a bow and smile, “that you will be so good as to be friends with Walter Methven now: for that is the name under which I know myself.”
“Oh, Lord Erradeen,” the lady said with a little flutter of pleasure. Such a speech would be pretty from any young man; but made by a young lord, in all the flush of his novel honours, and by far the greatest potentate103 of the district, there was no one up the loch or down the loch who would not have been gratified. “It is just possible,” she said, after a momentary104 pause, “that having been brought up in England, and deprived of your father so early, you may not know much about your neighbours, nor even who we are, in this bit island of ours. We are the Forresters of Eaglescairn, whom no doubt ye have heard of; and I am one of the last of the Montroses—alas! that I should say so. I have but one of a large family left with me; and Oona and me, we have just taken advantage of an old family relic105 that came from my side of the house, and have taken up our habitation here. I hear she must have travelled with you yesterday on the coach, not thinking who it was. Oh, yes; news travels fast at this distance from the world. I think the wind blows it, or the water carries it. All the loch by this time is aware of Lord Erradeen’s arrival. Indeed,” she added, with a little laugh, “you know, my lord, we all saw the light.”
She was a woman over fifty, but fair and slight, with a willowy figure, and a complexion106 of which many a younger woman might have been proud; and there was a little airiness of gesture and tread about her, which probably thirty years before had been the pretty affectations, half-natural, half-artificial, of a beauty, and which still kept up the tradition of fascinating powers. The little toss of her head, the gesture of her hands, as she said the last words, the half-apologetic laugh as if excusing herself for a semi-absurdity, were all characteristic and amusing.
“You know,” she added, “in the Highlands we are allowed to be superstitious,” and repeated the little laugh at herself with which she deprecated offence.
“What is it supposed to mean?” Walter asked somewhat eagerly. “Of course there is some natural explanation which will be simple enough. But I prefer to take the old explanation, if I knew what it was.”
“And so do we,” she said quickly. “We are just ready to swear to it, man and woman of us on the loch. Some say it is a sign the head of the house is coming—some that it is a call to him to come and meet—Dear me, there is Oona calling. And where is Hamish? I will not have the child kept waiting,” said the lady, looking round her with a little nervous impatience108.
She had begun to lead the way upward by a winding path among the rocks and trees, and now paused, a little breathless, to look down towards the landing-place, and clap her hands impatiently.
“Hamish is away, mem,” said the woman whom Walter had seen on the coach, and who now met them coming down the winding path. She looked at him with a cordial smile, and air of kindly109 welcome. It was evident that it did not occur to Mysie that her salutations might be inappropriate. “You’re very welcome, sir, to your ain country,” she said with a courtesy, which was polite rather than humble110. Walter felt that she would have offered him her hand, on the smallest encouragement, with a kindly familiarity which conveyed no disrespect.
“You should say my lord, Mysie,” her mistress remarked.
“Deed, mem, and so I should; but when you’re no much in the way o’t, ye get confused. I said, as soon as I heard the news, that it would be the young gentleman on the coach, and I had just a feeling a’ the time that it was nae tourist, but a kent face. Hamish is away, mem. I tell him he hears Miss Oona’s foot on the bank, before ever she cries upon him; and yonder he is just touching111 the shore, and her ready to jump in.”
The party had reached a little platform on the slope. The path was skilfully112 engineered between two banks, clothed with ferns and grasses, and still luxuriant with a vivid green, though the overhanging trees were all bare. Here and there a little opening gave a point of repose113 and extended view. Mrs. Forrester paused and turned round to point out to her visitor the prospect114 that now lay before them. She was a little breathless and glad of the pause, but it did not suit her character to say so. She pointed115 round her with a little triumph. They were high enough to see the loch on either side, looking down upon it through the fringe of branches. Opposite to this was the mainland which at that spot formed a little bay, thickly wooded with the dark green of the fir woods, amid which appeared the gables of a sort of ornamental116 cottage. Nearer the eye was the road, and underneath117 the road on the beach stood a little slight figure in the closely-fitting garb118 which Walter recognised. She had evidently been set down from a waggonette full of a lively party which waited on the high road to see her embark119. It was impossible to hear what they were saying, but the air was full of a pleasant murmur120 of voices.
“It is the young Campbells of Ellermore,” said Mrs. Forrester, waving her handkerchief towards the group. “Oona has been spending last night with them, and they have brought her back. They will all be astonished, Mysie, to see me standing here with a gentleman. Dear me, they will all be saying who has Mrs. Forrester got with her?”
“They will think,” said Mysie, “just that it’s Mr. James or Mr. Ronald come home.”
“Ah, Mysie, if that could be!” said the lady of the isle: and she put her hands together, which were thin and white, and ornamented121 by a number of rings, with a pretty conventional gesture of maternal122 regret. Walter stood looking on with mingled48 amazement123 and pleasure: pleased as if he were at a play with all the new indications of domestic history which were opening to him, and with a sense of enjoyment through all his being. When the girl sprang into the boat, and Hamish, conspicuous124 in his red shirt, pushed off into the loch, the tumult125 of good-byes became almost articulate. He laughed to himself under his breath, remembering all the greetings he had heard along the line of railway, the recognitions at every station.
“Your daughter seems to know everybody,” he said.
“And how could she help knowing every person,” cried Mysie, taking the words, as it were, out of her mistress’s mouth, “when she was born and brought up on the loch, and never one to turn her back upon a neebor, gentle or simple, but just adored wherever she goes?”
“Oh, whisht, Mysie, whisht! we are partial,” said Mrs. Forrester with her little antiquated126 graces; and then she invited Lord Erradeen to continue his walk.
It was the full blaze of day, and the view extended as they went higher up to the crest of rock upon which the house was set. It was built of irregular reddish stone, all cropped with lichens127 where it was visible, but so covered with clinging plants that very little of the walls could be seen. The rustic128 porch was built something like a bee-hive, with young, slim-growing saplings for its pillars, and chairs placed within its shelter. There were some flower-beds laid out around, in which a few autumn crocuses had struggled into pale bloom—and a number of china roses hung half opened against the sides of the house. The roofs were partly blue slates129, that most prosaic130 of comfortable coverings, and partly the rough red tiles of the country, which shone warm through the naked boughs.
“Every hardy131 plant could bear
Loch Katrine’s keen and searching air,”
was garlanded about the house, the little lawn was as green as velvet, the china roses were pale but sweet. Behind the house were the mossed apple-trees of a primitive132 orchard133 among the rocky shelves. It lay smiling in the sun, with the silver mirror of the lake all round, and every tint134 and outline doubled in the water. From the door the dark old castle of Kinloch Houran stood out against the silent darkness of the hill. Little rocky islets, like a sport of nature, too small to be inhabited by anything bigger than rabbits, lay all reflected in broken lines of rock and brushwood, between Walter’s old castle and this romantic house. They were so visible, one to the other, that the mere135 position seemed to form a link of connection between the inhabitants.
“We cannot but take an interest in you, you see, Lord Erradeen, for we can never get out of sight of you,” said Mrs. Forrester.
“And I think the old place looks better from here than any other view I have seen,” Walter added almost in the same breath.
They laughed as they spoke56 together. It was not possible to be more entirely136 “country neighbours.” The young man had a fantastic feeling that it was a sort of flattery to himself that his house should be so entirely the centre of the landscape. He followed the lady into the house with a little reluctance137, the scene was so enchanting138. Inside, the roofs were low, but the rooms well-sized and comfortable. They were full of curiosities of every kind: weapons from distant countries, trophies139 of what is called “the chase,” hung upon the wall of the outer hall. The drawing-room was full of articles from India and China, carved ivories, monsters in porcelain140, all the wonders that people used to send home before we got Japanese shops at every corner. An air of gentle refinement141 was everywhere, with something, too, in the many ornaments142, little luxuries, and daintinesses which suggested the little minauderies of the old beauty, the old-fashioned airs and graces that had been irresistible143 to a previous generation.
“You will just stay and eat your luncheon144 with us, Lord Erradeen. I might have been but poor company, an old woman as I’m getting; but, now that Oona is coming, I need not be too modest; for, though there will not be a grand luncheon, there will be company, which is always something. And sit down and tell me something about your father and the lady he married, and where you have been living all this time.”
Walter laughed. “Is it all my humble history you want me to tell you?” he said. “It is not very much. I don’t remember my father, and the lady he married is—my mother, you know. The best mother——But I have not been the best of sons. I was an idle fellow, good-for-nothing a little while ago. Nobody knew what was going to come of me. I did nothing but loaf, if you know what that means.”
“Ah, that I do,” said Mrs. Forrester; “that was just like my Jamie. But now they tell me he is the finest officer——”
Walter paused, but the lady was once more entirely attention, listening with her hands clasped, and her head raised to his with an ingratiating sidelong look. He laughed. “They all made up their minds I was to be good-for-nothing——”
“Yes,” murmured Mrs. Forrester, softly, half closing her eyes and shaking her head, “that was just like my Bob—till he took a thought: and now he is planting coffee in Ceylon and doing well. Yes? and then?”
“An old man arrived one evening,” said Walter, half laughing, “and told me—that I was Lord Erradeen. And do you know, from that moment nobody, not even I myself, would believe that I had ever loafed or idled or been good-for-nothing.”
There was a pause, in which Walter thought he heard some one move behind him. But no sound reached Mrs. Forrester, who responded eagerly—
“My son, the present Eaglescairn, was just of the same kind,” she said, reflectively. She had a comparison ready for every case that could be suggested—“till he came of age. It was in the will that they were to come of age only at twenty-five, and till then I had a sore time. Oh, Oona, my dear, is that you? And had you a pleasant evening. Here is young Lord Erradeen that has come in, most kindly, I’m sure, to tell me about his father, that I knew so well. And it appears you met upon the coach yesterday. Come away, my dear, come away! And that was just most curious that, knowing nothing of one another, you should meet upon the coach.”
Oona came in lightly, in her out-door dress. She gave Walter a look which was very friendly. She had paused for a moment at the door, and she had heard his confession145. It seemed to Oona that what he said was generous and manly146. She was used to forming quick impressions. She had been annoyed when she had heard from Hamish of the visitor, but her mind changed when she heard what he said. She came up to him and held out her hand. The fresh air was in her face, which Walter thought was like the morning, all bright and fresh and full of life. She made him a little curtsey with much gravity, and said in the pretty voice which was so fresh and sweet, and with that novelty of accent which had amused and delighted the young man, “You are welcome to your own country Lord Erradeen.”
“Now that is very pretty of you, Oona,” cried her mother. “I never thought you would remember to pay your little compliment, as a well-bred person should; for, to tell the truth, she is just too brusque—it is her fault.”
“Hamish told me what to say,” said Oona, with a glance of provocation147. “He is a very well-bred person. He told me I was to bid my lord welcome to his own.”
“Oh, my dear, you need not take away the merit of it, as if you had not thought of it yourself,” said the mother, aggrieved148; “but run away and take off your hat, and let us have our lunch, for Lord Erradeen has been all the morning on the water and he will be hungry, and you are all blown about with the wind.”
The young people exchanged looks, while Mrs. Forrester made her little protest. There was a sort of laughing interchange between them, in which she was mocking and he apologetic. Why, neither could have said. They understood each other, though they by no means clearly understood each what he and she meant. There was to be a little war between them, all in good-humour and good-fellowship, not insipid149 agreement and politeness. The next hour was, Walter thought, the most pleasant he had ever spent in his life. He had not been ignorant of such enjoyments150 before. When we said that various mothers in Sloebury had with the first news of his elevation suffered a sudden pang151 of self-reproach, to think how they had put a stop to certain passages, the end of which might now have been to raise a daughter to the peerage, it must have been understood that Walter was not altogether a novice152 in the society of women; but this had a new flavour which was delightful153 to him. It had been pleasant enough in the cottage, when Julia Herbert sang, and on other occasions not necessary to enter into. But on this romantic isle, where the sound of the loch upon the rocks made a soft accompaniment to everything, in a retirement154 which no vulgar interruption could reach, with the faded beauty on one side, scarcely able to forget the old pretty mannerisms of conquest even in her real maternal kindness and frank Highland107 hospitality, and the girl, with her laughing defiance on the other, he felt himself to have entered a new chapter of history. The whole new world into which he had come became visible to him in their conversation. He heard how he himself had been looked for, and how “the whole loch” had known something about him for years before he had ever heard of Loch Houran. “We used to know you as the ‘English lad,’” Oona said, with her glance of mischief155. All this amused Walter more than words can say. The sun was dropping towards the west before—escorted to the landing-place by both the ladies, and taken leave of as an old friend—he joined the slow-spoken Duncan, and addressed himself to the homeward voyage. Duncan had not been slow of speech in the congenial company of Hamish. They had discussed the new-comer at length, with many a shaft156 of humour and criticism, during the visit which Duncan had paid to the kitchen. He blushed not now, secure in the stronghold of his unknown tongue, to break off in a witty157 remark at Walter’s expense as he turned to his master his beaming smile of devotion. They set off together, master and man, happy yet regretful, upon their homeward way. And it was a tough row back to Kinloch Houran against the fresh and not too quiet Highland wind.
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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2
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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3
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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4
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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5
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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6
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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7
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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8
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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9
gilding
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| n.贴金箔，镀金 | |
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10
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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11
chilliness
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| n.寒冷，寒意，严寒 | |
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12
poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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13
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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14
agitations
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| （液体等的）摇动( agitation的名词复数 )； 鼓动； 激烈争论； （情绪等的）纷乱 | |
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15
scones
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| n.烤饼，烤小圆面包( scone的名词复数 ) | |
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16
auspices
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| n.资助，赞助 | |
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17
canopies
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| （宝座或床等上面的）华盖( canopy的名词复数 )； （飞行器上的）座舱罩； 任何悬于上空的覆盖物； 森林中天棚似的树荫 | |
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18
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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19
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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20
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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21
stimulation
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| n.刺激，激励，鼓舞 | |
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22
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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23
conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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24
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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25
improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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26
projections
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| 预测( projection的名词复数 )； 投影； 投掷； 突起物 | |
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27
masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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28
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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29
perennial
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| adj.终年的；长久的 | |
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30
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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31
twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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32
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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33
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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34
loom
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| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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35
specks
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| n.眼镜；斑点，微粒，污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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36
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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37
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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38
contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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39
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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40
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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41
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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42
auld
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| adj.老的，旧的 | |
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43
divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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44
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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45
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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46
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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47
mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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48
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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49
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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50
organise
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| vt.组织，安排，筹办 | |
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51
antiquities
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| n.古老( antiquity的名词复数 )；古迹；古人们；古代的风俗习惯 | |
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52
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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53
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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54
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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55
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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56
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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57
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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58
freckled
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|
| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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60
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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61
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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62
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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63
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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64
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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65
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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67
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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68
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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69
capabilities
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| n.能力( capability的名词复数 )；可能；容量；[复数]潜在能力 | |
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70
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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71
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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72
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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73
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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74
watchfulness
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| 警惕，留心； 警觉（性） | |
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75
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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76
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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77
disinterestedly
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78
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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79
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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80
zigzag
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|
| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
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81
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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82
poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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83
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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84
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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85
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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86
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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87
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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88
anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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89
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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90
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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91
imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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92
interrogated
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| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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93
repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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95
disappearances
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| n.消失( disappearance的名词复数 )；丢失；失踪；失踪案 | |
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96
tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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97
oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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98
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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99
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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100
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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101
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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102
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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103
potentate
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| n.统治者；君主 | |
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104
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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105
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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106
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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107
highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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108
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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109
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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110
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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111
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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112
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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113
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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114
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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115
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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116
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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117
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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118
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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119
embark
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| vi.乘船，着手，从事，上飞机 | |
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120
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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121
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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123
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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124
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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125
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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lichens
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| n.地衣( lichen的名词复数 ) | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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slates
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| （旧时学生用以写字的）石板( slate的名词复数 )； 板岩； 石板瓦； 石板色 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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139
trophies
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| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
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porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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insipid
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| adj.无味的，枯燥乏味的，单调的 | |
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enjoyments
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| 愉快( enjoyment的名词复数 )； 令人愉快的事物； 享有； 享受 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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