Instantly she had the carriage stopped, and nothing would do but that she must get out and set foot on her own land: moreover, when Käthchen took down the umbrella, they found that the rain had ceased, and that the western skies were lightening somewhat. "That is the march," said Mr. Purdie, pointing to a low, irregular, moss-grown wall—obviously a very ancient landmark; "and it goes right over the hill and down again to the Garra." Leaving the highway, she stepped across the ditch, and stood on the moist, soft peat land. "And this is mine!" she said to Käthchen, with an odd expression of face. "This is absolutely mine. Nobody can dispute my possession of it. This piece of the solid world actually belongs to me." "And I suppose your rights extend as deep as ever you like," said Käthchen. "You might go all the way through, and have a walk in the streets of Melbourne, and get dry, and come back." But Mary’s quick eye had caught sight of what was to her the most important feature of the surrounding landscape. It was a cottage perched on a knoll above a burn—or, rather, it was the ruins of a cottage, the gables standing roofless, the thatch long ago blown away by the winds, the beams and fallen stones lying among the withered nettles, altogether a melancholy sight. "Now, isn’t it shameful!" she exclaimed, in hot indignation. "Look at that! The very first thing I meet with! Do you wonder that people should talk about the Highland landlords? Some poor wretch has been driven away—perhaps at this very moment, in Canada or in Australia, he is thinking of the old home, and forgetting all the rain and discomfort there used to be, Mr. Purdie!" "Yes, ma’am?" said he, coming a bit nearer; and Käthchen looked on, wondering if his doom was about to be pronounced. "Who lived in that house?" Miss Stanley demanded. "The schoolmaster," was the reply. "The schoolmaster? And where is he now?" "He’s in his own house," the factor said. "We built him a new one and a better one, to be nearer the school and the village; and when he moved it was hardly worth while keeping the old one in repair." "Oh," said she, a little disconcerted. "Oh, really. Then no one was sent away—from that cottage?" "No, no—not at all—not at all," said he; and he followed her to the waggonette and politely shut the door after her—while Käthchen’s face maintained an admirable gravity.