down the more distant woods into a sober gray.  That great extent of wooded plain, lying sleepily in its pale mists, was not so cheerful as the scene around her, where the sunlight was sharp and clear, the air fresh, the trees flooded with a pure and bright color.  Here, indeed, was a cheerful and beautiful world, and she was full of curiosity to know all about it and its strange features.  What was the name of this tree? and how did it differ from that?  Were not these rabbits over by the fence? and did rabbits live in the midst of trees and bushes?  What sort of wood was the fence made of? and was it not terribly expensive to have such a protection?  Could not he tell the cost of a wooden fence?  Why did they not use wire netting?  Was not that a loch away down there? and what was its name?  A loch without a name!  Did the salmon come up to it? and did any sea-birds ever come inland and build their nests on its margin?

“Oh, Bras, you must come and look at the loch.  It is a long time since you will see a loch.”

And away she went through the thick breckan, holding on to the swaying leash that held the galloping greyhound, and running swiftly as though she had been making down for the shore to get out the Maighdean-mhara.

“Sheila,” called her husband, “don’t be foolish!”

“Sheila,” called Ingram, “have pity on an old man!”

Suddenly she stopped.  A brace of partridges had sprung up at some little distance, and with a wild whirr of their wings were now directing their low and rapid flight toward the bottom of the valley.

“What birds are those?” she said peremptorily.

She took no notice of the fact that her companions were pretty nearly too blown to speak.  There was a brisk life and color in her face, and all her attention was absorbed in watching the flight of the birds.  Lavender fancied he saw in the fixed and keen look something of old Mackenzie’s gray eye:  it was the first trace of a likeness to her father he had seen.

“You bad girl!” he said, “they are partridges.”

She paid no heed to this reproach, for what were those other things over there underneath the trees?  Bras had pricked up his ears, and there was a strange excitement in his look and in his trembling frame.

“Deer!” she cried, with her eyes as fixed as were those of the dog beside her.

“Well,” said her husband calmly, “what although they are deer?”

“But Bras—­” she said; and with that she caught the leash with both her hands.

“Bras won’t mind them if you keep him quiet.  I suppose you can manage him better than I can.  I wish we had brought a whip.”

“I would rather let him kill every deer in the Park than touch him with a whip,” said Sheila proudly.

“You fearful creature, you don’t know what you say.  That is high treason.  If George Ranger heard you, he would have you hanged in front of the Star and Garter.”