‘I feel with you,’ said the Prince, ’when I see the smiling faces of these poor sons of the South among—­well, your English faces are not usually joyous—­if one may venture to be critical.’

He looked up, and, his eyes meeting those of Lady Alice, he had occasion to learn that every rule has its exceptions.  The young people rose and wandered off on the lawn, while the Earl came back and said that he had invited the foreigners to refresh themselves.

’I saw Father Riccoboni in the hall, and asked him to speak to them a little in their own lingo,’ he added, ’though he does not appear to be partial to the music of his native land.’

‘He seems to be of the Romansch districts,’ Logan said; ’his accent is almost German.’

‘I daresay he will make himself understood,’ said the Earl.  ’Do you understand this house, Mr. Logan?  It looks very modern, does it not?’

‘Early Georgian, surely?’ said Logan.

’The shell, at least on this side, is early Georgian—­I rather regret it; but the interior, northward, except for the rooms in front here, is of the good old times.  We have secret stairs—­not that there is any secret about them—­and odd cubicles, in the old Border keep, which was re-faced about 1750; and we have a priest’s hole or two, in which Father Riccoboni might have been safe, but would have been very uncomfortable, three hundred years ago.  I can show you the places to-morrow; indeed, we have very little in the way of amusement to offer you.  Do you fish?’

‘I always take a trout rod about with me, in case of the best,’ said Logan, ’but this is “soolky July,” you know, and the trout usually seem sound asleep.’

‘Their habits are dissipated here,’ said Lord Embleton.  ’They begin to feed about ten o’clock at night.  Did you ever try night fishing with the bustard?’

‘The bustard?’ asked Logan.

’It is a big fluffy fly, like a draggled mayfly, fished wet, in the dark.  I used to be fond of it, but age,’ sighed the Earl, ’and fear of rheumatism have separated the bustard and me.’

‘I should like to try it very much,’ said Logan.  ’I often fished Tweed and Whitadder, at night, when I was a boy, but we used a small dark fly.’

‘You must be very careful if you fish at night here,’ said Lady Mary.  ’It is so dark in the valley under the woods, and the Coquet is so dangerous.  The flat sandstone ledges are like the floor of a room, and then a step may land you in water ten feet deep, flowing in a narrow channel.  I am always anxious when anyone fishes here at night.  You can swim?’

Logan confessed that he was not destitute of that accomplishment, and that he liked, of all things, to be by a darkling river, where you came across the night side of nature in the way of birds, beasts, and fishes.

‘Mr. Logan can take very good care of himself, I am sure,’ said Lord Embleton, ’and Fenwick knows every inch of the water, and will go with him.  Fenwick is the water-keeper, Mr. Logan, and represents man in the fishing and shooting stage.  His one thought is the destruction of animal life.  He is a very happy man.’