The noise of their approach, heard from the bottom of the ascent, within the lonely winter castle, awoke profound conjecture, and Grizzie proceeded to light the lanthern that she might learn the sooner what catastrophe could cause such a phenomenon: something awful must have taken place! Perhaps they had cut off the king’s head as they did in France! But such was the rapidity of the horses’ ascent in the hope of rest, and warmth, and supper, that the carriage was in the close, and rattling up to the door, ere she had got the long wick of the tallow candle to acknowledge the dominion of fire. The laird rose in haste from his arm-chair, and went to the door. There stood the chaise, in the cloud of steam that rose from the quick-heaving sides of the horses. And there were Cosmo and Agnes at the door of it, assisting somebody to descend. The laird was never in a hurry. He was too thorough a gentleman to trouble approach by uneasy advance, and he had no fear of anything Cosmo had done. He stood therefore in the kitchen door, calmly expectant. A long-cloaked lady got down, and, turning from the assistant hand of his son, came towards him--a handsome lady, tall and somewhat stately, but weary, and probably in want of food as well as rest. He bowed with old-fashioned worship, and held out his hand to welcome her. She gave him hers graciously, and thanked him for the hospitality his son had offered them. “Come in, come in, madam,” said the old man. “The fireside is the best place for explanations. Welcome to a poor house but a warm hearth! So much we can yet offer stranger-friends.” He led the way, and she followed him into the kitchen. On a small piece of carpet before the fire, stood the two chairs of state, each protected by a large antique screen. From hers the grandmother rose with dignified difficulty, when she perceived the quality of the entering stranger. “Mother,” said the laird, “it is not often we have the pleasure of visitors at this time of the year!” “The more is the rare foot welcome,” answered she, and made Lady Joan as low a courtesy as she dared: she could not quite reckon on her power of recovery. Lady Joan returned her salute, little impressed with the honour done her, but recognizing that she was in the presence of a gentlewoman. She took the laird’s seat at his invitation, and, leaning forward, gazed wearily at the fire.