“But how could there be an aeolian harp up here?” said Arctura.
“It will be time enough to answer that question,” replied Donal, “when it changes to, ‘How did an aeolian harp get up here?’ Something is here that wants accounting for: it may be an aeolian harp!”
“But in a chimney! The soot would spoil the strings!”
“Then perhaps it is not a chimney: is there any sign of soot about, Davie?”
“No, sir; there is nothing but clean stone and lime.”
“You see, my lady! We do not even know that it is a chimney!”
“What else can it be, standing with the rest?”
“It may have been built for one; but if it had ever been used for one, the marks of smoke would remain, had it been disused ever so long. But to-morrow I will bring up a ladder.”
“Could you not do it now?” said Arctura, almost coaxingly. “I should so like to have the thing settled!”
“As you please, my lady! I will go at once. There is one leaning against the garden-wall, not far from the bottom of the tower.”