When alone, the sightless man could find his way quite well with the aid of his stick.  He knew every inch of his domain.  Indeed, he could descend from the castle by the winding path that led deep into the glen, and across the narrow foot-bridges of the rushing Ruthven Water, or he could traverse the most intricate paths through the woods by means of certain landmarks which only he himself knew.  He was ever fond of wandering about the estate alone, and often took solitary walks on bright nights with his stout stick tapping before him.  On rare occasions, however, when, in the absence of her ladyship, he enjoyed the company of pretty Gabrielle, they would wander in the park arm-in-arm, chatting and exchanging confidences.

The departure of their house-party had lifted a heavy weight from both their hearts.  It would be dawn before they returned.  She loved her father, and was never happier than when describing to him things—­the smallest objects sometimes—­which he himself could not see.

As they strolled on beneath the shadows of the tall elms, the stillness of the night was broken only by the quick scurry of a rabbit into the tall bracken or the harsh cry of some night-bird startled by their approach.

Before them, standing black against the night-sky, rose the quaint, ponderous, but broken walls of the ancient stronghold, where an owl hooted weirdly in the ivy, and where the whispering of the waters rose from the deep below.

“It’s a pity, dear, that you didn’t go to the dance,” the old man was saying, her arm held within his own.  “You’ve annoyed your mother, I fear.”

“Mother is quite happy with her guests, dad; while I am quite happy with you,” she replied softly.  “Therefore, why discuss it?”

“But surely it is not very entertaining for you to remain here with a man who is blind.  Remember, you are young, and these golden days of youth will very soon pass.”

“Why, you always entertain and instruct me, dad,” she declared; “from you I’ve learnt so much archaeology and so much about mediaeval seals that I believe I am qualified to become a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, if women were admitted to fellowship.”

“They will be one day, my dear, if the Suffragettes are allowed their own way,” he laughed.

And then, during the full hour they strolled together, their conversation mostly consisted of questions asked by her father concerning some improvements being made in one of the farms which she had visited on the previous day, and her description of what had been done.

The stable-clock had struck half-past ten on its musical chimes before they re-entered the big hall, and, being relieved by Hill of the wraps, passed together into the library, where, from a locked cabinet in a corner, Gabrielle took a number of business papers and placed them upon the writing-table before her father.

“No,” he said, running his thin white hands over them, “not business to-night, dear, but pleasure.  Where is that box from the Professor?”