Nan had been told what Emberon was like and had told her friends, but even then it came as a surprise. She had known that it was a gray and dreary looking place high up on a hill some distance from the village, but how dreary she never could have imagined.
It was dusk when they drove up the steep rough road that was the only entrance to the ancient estate. The high old-fashioned carriage that they had climbed up into at the station rocked precariously from side to side as the horses, almost as ancient as the carriage itself, pulled it along.
In the half light, the girls looked at one another and at Dr. Beulah. “It’s almost spooky,” Grace huddled closer to Laura as she spoke, “isn’t it?”
“These old estates,” Dr. Beulah explained, “were almost all fortresses at one time. They are built high up on hills so that they have a natural means of defense against the surrounding country. The original owners were lords who were almost kings in their own right. They fought, now against one another, now against England, holding princes and princesses, kings and queens as pawns. No man knew for sure who was his friend and who his enemy.
“The stakes were high in those days. Each man thought that Scotland was his for the fighting. So, when he got himself some land and built himself his castle, he went out to conquer the surrounding country. It was fight, fight, fight all the time, one Scottish clan against another.
“Then it was Scotland against England and the Scottish world was full of spies. That very song the lad back in the station played over and over again ‘On the Bonnie Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond,’ is the story of a Scotsman who was captured by the English. The lake itself is not very far from here.”
“I believe,” she went on, as she saw that she had the attention of all the girls, “that the hero of that song belonged to one of the Highland clans and was captured by the English at the battle of Culloden. He was taken to Carlisle where he was tried for treason and condemned to be executed.
“But as a special favor,” she paused and waited while the carriage went around a sharp bend in the road, and then continued, “the night before his execution, he was allowed to receive a visit from his betrothed. In bidding her goodby—and she is supposed to have been a very beautiful Scotch girl—his heart turned homeward to the scenes of other, happy days. He told her that his spirit would be there before she arrived, that he would meet her at their former trysting place.”
“We’ll meet where we parted in yon shady glen,
By the steep, steep side of Ben Lomond.”
Nan was humming the words over to herself even as the carriage came to a stop before the gates of the ancient estate. The driver climbed down from his high seat in front and pulled a rope. A bell rang in the distance, the gates opened, and now, almost proudly, the horses pulled the carriage up a short driveway and stopped. A proud dignified old gentleman came out to greet them.