“He thinks _I’m_ heeding about ladies--_me_! and you’ll nane of you be learned, I reckon; for if ye were, there’s routh o’ grand books ben the house--I whiles read in them mysel, and they are a’ guid reading and profitable. When I come on an ill ane, I kindle my fire wi’t. I laid my hand on ane yestreen, that’s nae better than it should be, in my judgment; but it was uncommon diverting, and I just laid it by again, for my ain carnal pleasure--for I’m no abune the like o’ that, though I’m auld. Come away, Allenders--if you are Allenders; I’ll let you see the book, and like a guid laddie, ye’ll take nae heed of yon birkie and his windows.” The young men followed their conductor in high good-humour. He had quite neutralized the melancholy appearance of the house. Opposite the dining-parlour was a much smaller apartment, heavy and dark with books. Into the sombre twilight of this room no stray sunbeam wandered. High trees closed it round without, and great book-cases, dusty and crowded, oppressed the wall within. A single old print of some obscure Stirlingshire divine, long since forgotten, hung over the mantel-piece, and a much-worn leathern chair stood before a little writing-table in front of the fire-place. A window-seat, cushioned and covered with hard crimson moreen, occupied the recess of the window; but from this window you only looked out upon the damp outline of a neglected flower-bed, covered with rank vegetation, and upon the close screen of trees, which bent round it on every side. “Man, I dinna _envie_ ye the land!” exclaimed the harmless Dragon of Allenders, “but I div en_vie_ ye the books; and being a callant, ye’ll no ken how to make a right use of them. Now isna this a grand room? I’ll warrant ye never were in a muckle house like this afore?” “It is light we want--nothing but light. It is the gloom which makes these rooms look so dreary,” said Charteris, sympathetically beholding the chill which again fell over Harry. Harry went to the window, and looked out. Why _they_ would be buried here--and the good fortune was a piece of penance after all. “You should give me another five hundred a-year for consenting to live in this place, Mr. Lindsay,” he said in almost an irritated tone. Poor Harry had a weakness of thinking that disagreeable things were somebody’s fault. He was quite impatient with Lindsay and Charteris. He felt as if they had deluded him. “Dr. Allenders in Stirling would not think so,” said Lindsay, in his turn a little offended. “I dare say you might find a Jacob among them eager enough to bargain for the birthright.”