and finally stood forth in a comely suit of brown, with silver-buckled
shoes, stock and cravat of fine cambric, and a tie-wig. Midway in his
toilet he stopped to light two candles. These showed, in the smallest
of mirrors, set of wig and cravat, and between the two a thoughtful,
cheerful, rather handsome countenance.

He had left the door ajar so that he might hear, if he presently
returned, his eldest pupil. But he heard only James go clattering down
the passage and the stair. Strickland, blowing out his candles, left
his room to the prolonged June twilight and the climbing moon.

The stairway down, from landing to landing, lay in shadow, but as he
approached the hall he caught the firelight. The laird had a London
guest who might find a chill in June nights so near the north. The
blazing wood showed forth the chief Glenfernie gathering-place, wide
and deep, with a great chimneypiece and walls of black oak, and hung
thereon some old pieces of armor and old weapons. There was a table
spread for supper, and a servant went about with a long
candle-lighter, lighting candles. A collie and a hound lay upon the
hearth. Between them stood Mrs. Jardine, a tall, fair woman of forty
and more, with gray eyes, strong nose, and humorous mouth.

"Light them all, Davie! It'll be dark then by London houses."

Davie showed an old servant's familiarity. "He wasna sae grand when he
left auld Scotland thirty years since! I'm thinking he might remember
when he had nae candles ava in his auld hoose."

"Well, he'll have candles enough in his new hall."