Yet more confirmation to the passion-prejudiced ears of Christina! "There is a stair," Ian went on, "of which no one but our two selves knows anything. Such stairs are common in old houses--far commoner than people in towns have a notion of. But there would not have been much of it left by this time, if we hadn't taken care of it. We were little fellows when we began, and it needed much contrivance, for we were not able to unseat the remnants of the broken steps, and replace them with new ones." "Do show it us," begged Christina. "We will keep it," said Alister, "for some warm twilight. Morning is not for ruins. Yon mountain-side is calling to us. Will you come, Mercy?" "Oh yes!" cried Christina; "that will be much better! Come, Mercy! You are up to a climb, I am sure!" "I ought to be, after such a long rest." "You may have forgotten how to climb!" said Alister. "I dreamed too much of the hills for that! And always the noise of London was changed into the rush of waters." They had dropped a little behind the other pair. "Did you always climb your dream-hills alone?" asked Alister. She answered him with just a lift of her big dark eyes. They walked slowly down the road till they came to Mrs. Conal's path, passed her door unassailed, and went up the hill. CHAPTER V PASSION AND PATIENCE. It was a glorious morning, and as they climbed, the lightening air made their spirits rise with their steps. Great masses of cloud hung beyond the edge of the world, and here and there towered foundationless in the sky--huge tumulous heaps of white vapour with gray shadows. The sun was strong, and poured down floods of light, but his heat was deliciously tempered by the mountain atmosphere. There was no wind--only an occasional movement as if the air itself were breathing--just enough to let them feel they moved in no vacuum, but in the heart of a gentle ocean.