“But now,” said Donal, “I must go round and have a peep at the other side of the chimney-stack.”
He disappeared, and Arctura and Davie stood waiting his return. They looked each in the other’s face with the delight of consciously sharing a great adventure. Beyond their feet lay the wide country and the great sea; over them the sky with the sun in it going down towards the mountains; under their feet the mighty old pile that was their home; and under that the earth with its molten heart of fire.
But Davie’s look soon changed to one of triumph in his tutor. “Is is not grand,” it said, “to be all day with a man like that—talking to you and teaching you?” That at least was how Arctura interpreted it, reading in it almost an assertion of superiority, in as much as this man was his tutor and not hers. She replied to the look in words:—
“I am his pupil, too, Davie,” she said, “though Mr. Grant does not know it.”
“How can that be,” answered Davie, “when you are afraid of him? I am not a bit afraid of him!”
“How do you know I am afraid of him?” she asked.
“Oh, anybody could see that!”
She was afraid she had spoken foolishly, and Davie might repeat her words: she did not desire to hasten further intimacy with Donal; things were going in that direction fast enough! Her eyes, avoiding Davie’s, kept reconnoitring the stack of chimneys.
“Aren’t you glad to have such a castle all for your own—to do what you like with, Arkie? You know you could pull it all to pieces if you liked!”
“Would it be less mine,” said Arctura, “if I was not at liberty to pull it all to pieces? And would it be more mine when I had pulled it to pieces, Davie?”