‘How nice it is, and what a difference a fire can make, to be sure,’ she said quickly.  ’I say, Walter, such a thing!  Uncle Abel is going a journey,—­a railway journey, actually,—­and I am going with him.  Has he said anything to you?  Have you any idea what it means?’

‘Not I. He’s a queer old chap.  Not off his head, I hope?’

’Oh no, and he says he is quite well.  I don’t know what to think.  Perhaps I shall understand it when I come back.  You will find your dinner in the oven, Walter; and be sure to keep up a good fire all day down-stairs, in case uncle should come back very cold and tired.  I am afraid he will, but it is no use saying anything.’

Walter leaned his elbows on the soap-boxes, and looked into the girl’s face with a curious soberness.

’Something’s going to happen, I feel it—­something I don’t like.  I’m oppressed with an awful queer feeling.  I hope they’re not worse than usual at home.’

‘Oh no, you are letting your imagination run away with you,’ she said brightly.  ’I hope you will have such a busy day you won’t have time to think of such things;’ and, bidding him good-morning, she ran down again to her uncle.

Then, for the first time since that memorable and dreary journey from the fen country, these two, the old man and the maiden, went forth together.  Both thought of that journey, though it was not spoken of.  She could not fail to see that there was a certain excitement in the old man; it betrayed itself in his restless movements and in the gleam of his piercing eye.  Gladys no longer feared the glance of his eye nor the sound of his voice.  A quiet confidence had established itself between them, and she really loved him.  It was impossible for her to dwell beside a human being, not absolutely repulsive, without pouring some of the riches of her affection upon him.  As for him, Gladys herself had not the remotest idea how he regarded her, did not dream that she had awakened in his withered heart a slow and all-absorbing affection, the strength of which surprised himself.  He bade her stand back while he went to the booking-office for the tickets, and they were in the train before she repeated her question regarding their destination.

’I think it would only be fair, Uncle Abel, if you told me now where we are going,’ she said playfully.

For answer, he held out the ticket to her, and in amazement she read ‘Mauchline’ on it.  The colour flushed all over her face, and she looked at him with eager, questioning eyes.

’Oh, Uncle Abel, what does it mean?  Why are you going there to-day?  I cannot understand it.’

’I have my reasons, Gladys.  You will know them, perhaps, sooner than you think.’

’Is it a long journey, uncle?  I am so afraid for you.  Let me shut the window up quite.  And are we really, really going into Ayrshire at last?’

She was full of excitement as a child.  She sat close to the window, and when the train had left the city behind, looked out with eagerest interest on the wintry landscape.