Nor even when we dismounted did any servant or retainer come forth to meet or challenge us. We did not see so much as the flutter of a banner or the gleam of a steel cap. Only there about us was the silent courtyard, with the heat of noon trembling athwart it, and the very paving stones clean swept like a table before the feast is set. I tied our horses to the iron ring of a louping-on stone which stood at the angle of the wall by the gate, thinking as I did so that if only these foot-worn steps could speak, they could tell a tale worth hearkening to of strange venturings and bloody quests. Also I loosened my sword, and I think I saw the Dominie lay his hand to his hip, ere Nell and I set forward together. We went up the steps of the outside stair, and as we did so we came within hearing of a little continuous murmur of hoarse sound. The doors were all open, and I wot well that we walked softly and with our hearts in our mouths, for the silence and the strangeness of the deadly house of Auchendrayne daunted me more than the clash of swords or the crack of pistols. But I had Nell Kennedy by me, and I would have gone to destruction’s pit-mouth for her sake—because, saving my father and mother, she was the only friend I had. Suddenly, in our advance, we came to the door of a great hall, where, at the upper end, was a table in the midst. The windows were narrow and high, throwing down but a dim light upon the rush-strewn floor. There were many servants and others sitting in the hall, and at the further end stood one who read from a book. As soon as our eyes became accustomed to the cool duskiness after the white equal glare without, I perceived that the reader was none other than John Mure himself. About him there sat all his servants and retainers, both men and women. It was the crown of my astonishment to hear that the book from which he read was the Bible, and also that as he went on he made comments like a minister expounding his morning chapter, speaking very seasonably and fitly, and eke with excellent judgment and sense. Or so at least it seemed to me, for I am not enough of a clerk to be a judge of expositions, though my father has the two great leather-bound volumes of Clerk _Erasmus his Paraphrases_, on the shelf over the mantel. But though he is fond of these himself, he never rubbed any of his liking into me. But we were hearkening to the reading of John Mure in his own hall of Auchendrayne.