"Ye s' ken that, ye misbegotten funlin'!" shrieked the woman, and
waddled hastily into the house.

"What ails her?" said Malcolm to himself. "She micht ha' seen 'at
I bude to gie Mrs Courthope the first offer."

By a winding carriage drive, through trees whose growth was stunted
by the sea winds, which had cut off their tops as with a keen razor,
Malcolm made a slow descent, yet was soon shadowed by timber of
a more prosperous growth, rising as from a lake of the loveliest
green, spangled with starry daisies. The air was full of sweet
odours uplifted with the ascending dew, and trembled with a hundred
songs at once, for here was a very paradise for birds. At length
he came in sight of a long low wing of the house, and went to the
door that led to the kitchen. There a maid informed him that Mrs
Courthope was in the hall, and he had better take his basket there,
for she wanted to see him. He obeyed, and sought the main entrance.

The house was an ancient pile, mainly of two sides at right angles,
but with many gables, mostly having corbel steps--a genuine old
Scottish dwelling, small windowed and gray, with steep slated roofs,
and many turrets, each with a conical top. Some of these turrets
rose from the ground, encasing spiral stone stairs; others were
but bartizans, their interiors forming recesses in rooms. They gave
the house something of the air of a French chateau, only it looked
stronger and far grimmer. Carved around some of the windows,
in ancient characters, were Scripture texts and antique proverbs.
Two time worn specimens of heraldic zoology, in a state of fearful
and everlasting excitement, stood rampant and gaping, one on each