And he was not at all
sorry to reflect that, as soon as the little party got back home, Miss
Honnor Cunyngham should see for herself that he, a mere singer out of
comedy-opera, was not afraid to face the hardships that had proved too
much for Lord Rockminster--yes, and that he had faced them to some
purpose.
Very friendly sounded the voice of the Geinig, when it first struck upon
his ear; they were getting into a recognizable neighborhood now; here
were familiar features--not a waste of the awful and unknown. But it was
too much to expect that Miss Cunyngham should still be lingering by any
of those pools; the evening was closing in; she must have set out for
home long ago, fishing her way down as she went. They passed a
shepherd's solitary cottage; the old man came out to hear the
news--which was told him in Gaelic. They reached the banks of the
Aivron, and trudged along under the tall cliffs and through the
scattered birch and hazel. Then came the fording of the river--the tramp
along the other side--the return ford--and the small home-going party
was reunited again. They skirted the glassy sweeps of the Long Pool, the
darker swirls of the Small Pool, and the saffron-tinted masses of foam
hurling down between the borders of the Rock Pool; and then at last they
came in view of the spacious valley, and far away in the midst of it
Strathaivron Lodge.
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