“Snow! In Scotland I will show you mountain-peaks upon which the snows have never melted since the days of the Bruce; and from those snow-clad hills you shall look down into no dazzling abyss of awful whiteness, but out upon the waste of waters, with all their changeful play of light and shade, and varying splendour of colour, and animated motion. In Switzerland, remember, you have no sea.” “But the ice-oceans--the glaciers?” “Better in the descriptions of Berlepsch than in reality; and even he admits that they are dirty. Upon my honour, the highlands of Scotland are unsurpassable.” “And then?” inquired Helen, laughing. “Why this sudden enthusiasm for Scotland, Mr. Jerningham? Oh! I forgot; you are now a proprietor of the northern soil, and I suppose this is only a natural burst of proprietorial pride.” This accusation Mr. Jerningham disdained to answer. “Helen!” he said, with mock solemnity, “has it never occurred to you that your father must require change of scene--some relief from the monotonous verdancy of sylvan Berkshire--some respite from those eternal spreading beeches which provoke from commonplace lips ever-recurring allusion to the hackneyed Tityrus? That you yourself have languished for bolder scenery--snow-clad mountain-top, and wide blue lake--I am well aware; but do you think our dear scholar does not also require that mental and physical refreshment which comes from the contemplation of unknown lands and the breathing of unfamiliar breezes; or, in two words, do you not think that a brief spring holiday in the highlands would be of great advantage to my dear friend?” The student came out of the porch in time to hear the conclusion of Mr. Jerningham’s speech. The master of Greenlands and Helen de Bergerac had been strolling up and down the lawn in front of the cottage during this conversation. “What are you talking about, Harold?” asked the Frenchman. Helen was prompt to answer his question. “Oh, papa, Mr. Jerningham has been saying that you must require change of air and scene, and that a trip to Scotland would do you wonderful good. And so I am sure it would.” “Yes, Theodore, I want you to go with me to Pendarvoch. The place itself is scarcely worth showing you, but the surrounding scenery is superb; and Helen informs me she languishes to behold the Scottish highlands.” “Oh, Mr. Jerningham!” cried Helen; “when did I ever say----” “Not a minute ago. And you know the advantage to your father will be unspeakable.” “But my book?” urged the student. “You will return to it with renewed vigour after your holiday. You told me only the other day that you had of late experienced a languor, a distaste for your work, which denoted physical weakness; and----” “Oh, papa!” cried Helen, alarmed; “you do not confess these things to me! It is quite true; you have been looking tired lately. Nanon remarked it. Pray let us go to Scotland.” “Can you refuse her?” asked Mr. Jerningham.