The party was now ready, and rode out of the court, L’Isle putting himself by Lady Mabel’s side.

“What special part does this old man fill in your father’s household?”

“Properly, none; though he has made himself steward by an act of usurpation.  Just at this time he belongs to my household,” said she, with mock dignity.  “And, when at home, he is a very important person at Craiggyside, a place unknown to your geography, but a very important and delightful place, notwithstanding.”

“I blush to acknowledge my ignorance.  Pray put an end to it by telling me what sort of a place Craiggyside is.”

“It is a villa and farm, the home of my aunt, with whom I live.  There old Moodie fulfills his round of duties.  He manages the farm, sells the crops, tasks the ploughmen, overlooks the shepherd, scolds the dairymaid, bullies the servants, and regulates all that come near him.  He can be charged with no shortcomings, for he overdoes all he undertakes.  Not content with controlling our secular concerns, he would gladly take upon him the cure of souls.  But there he meets with stubborn resistance.”

“He has a varied sphere of duty,” said L’Isle, “and seems accustomed to have his own way.  He does not wait for your orders, nor, indeed, seems to be very amenable to them.  In short, notwithstanding the official title you have bestowed on Mrs. Shortridge, it is plain to me that the real duenna does not wear petticoats.”

“His presumption is equal to any thing,” said Lady Mabel, provoked at the suggestion.  “But I will make him repent it shortly.  He shall long remember this journey.  But enough of him for the present.  Let us make the most of this delightful morning hour.  It will be hot enough by noon.  I am now in the traveler’s happiest mood, enjoying at once the feeling of adventure with the sense of security, which, you must admit, is a rare and difficult combination of emotions.”

L’Isle was quite as well pleased as Lady Mabel with the prospect before him.  He had, at Lord Strathern’s request, assented to join a party, which he alone had gotten up, solely that he might put himself in the relation of companion and protector to Lady Mabel.  The commissary and his wife were convenient screens, not at all in his way.  Whether the part of guide, philosopher, and friend to such a pupil suited a man of four-and-twenty, he was yet to learn.  No doubts of this kind troubled him, however, as the arriero led his mules down the hill, and the party followed the music of their bells, all in high spirits, except old Moodie, who, though a volunteer, continued to be a grumbler.