“Yes, a little.”
“Who taught you?”
“An old mare I was fond of.”
“Ah, you are making game of me! I do not like to be made game of,” said Davie, and turned away.
“No indeed,” replied Donal. “I never make game of anybody.—But now I will go and find the letter.”
“I would go with you,” said the boy, “but my father will not let me beyond the grounds. I don’t know why.”
Donal hastened home, and found himself eagerly expected, for the letter young Eppy had brought was from the earl. It informed Donal that it would give his lordship pleasure to see him, if he would favour him with a call.
In a few minutes he was again on the road to the castle.
CHAPTER XI.
THE EARL.
He met no one on his way from the gate up through the wood. He ascended the hill with its dark ascending firs, to its crown of silvery birches, above which, as often as the slowly circling road brought him to the other side, he saw rise like a helmet the gray mass of the fortress. Turret and tower, pinnacle and battlement, appeared and disappeared as he climbed. Not until at last he stood almost on the top, and from an open space beheld nearly the whole front, could he tell what it was like. It was a grand pile, but looked a gloomy one to live in.