By the flare of the lantern I could see a broad raft, rigged with a windlass, slowly moving towards us over the darkening waters. Another lantern of steady gleam lighted the face of the ferryman. It took but a few minutes to reach the bank; the horses went on to the boards with many a snort and much stamping of impatient hoofs. Pete took his place at their heads. "_Marche!_" We moved slowly away towards the other bank. There was no moon; the night air was crisp with coming frost; an owl hooted somewhere in the woods. We were soon on the road again, as ever beneath trees. It seemed to me as if we were turning to the river again. I asked Cale about it. "You 've hit it 'bout right, in the dark too. We foller back a quarter of a mile, an' then we 're there." That quarter of a mile seemed long to me. "Here we are," said Cale, at last. I looked out. I could see the long low outlines of a house showing dimly white through the trees, for there were trees everywhere. A flaring light, as from a wood fire, illumined one window. We drew up at a broad flight of low steps. A door into a lighted passageway was opened. I saw there were at least four people in it; one, a woman in a white cap, came out on the upper step. "Have you brought Miss Farrell, Cale?" she said. "Yes, Mis' Macleod, fetched her right along; but the boat was good three hours late.--Pete, open the door; I 'll hold the hosses." I went up the steps, not knowing what to say, for the mere inflection of her voice, the gentle address, the prefix "Miss" to my name, told me intuitively that I was with gentle people, and my service with them was to be other than I fancied. II "I hope you will soon feel at home in the old manor." With these words I was made welcome. Mrs. Macleod led the way into the house. "Jamie," she said to a young man, or youth, I could not tell which, "this is Miss Farrell. My son," she added, turning to me. "Call me Marcia," I said to her. She smiled as if pleased. "You will be feeling very tired after your long journey--and I 'm thinking jolly hungry after coming up in the old boat; that was mother's doings." "Now, Jamie--!" she spoke in smiling protest. O Jamie, Jamie Macleod! Your thin bright eager face was in itself a welcome to the old manor of Lamoral. "I 'm not tired, but I confess to having a good appetite; this Canada air would make an angel long for manna," I said laughing. "Wouldn't it though--oh, it's great!" he responded joyfully. "Angélique, here, will help you out in that direction--she's our cook; Angélique, come here." He gave his command in French. The short thickset French Canadian of the black-eyed-Susan type, came forward, with outstretched hand, from the back of the passageway; there was good friendship in her hearty grip. "And Marie will take charge of you till supper time," said Mrs. Macleod, smiling; "Jamie is apt to run the house at times because he can speak with the servants in their own tongue."