“Beg pardon,” said the jarvey, “but is it Laird McLeod you’re a-talking about? Oh, yes; he’s gone this six months! Man! I knew the old man well. Used to drive him most every day of his life. But haven’t you heard, sir?”
“No, my good fellow; we have not been on shore two hours. Tell us.”
“There isn’t much to tell, sir, though it was sad enough. For the young Laird o’ Bilberry Hall shot himself one morning by accident while out after birds. Well, of course, that dear soul, the old Laird, is gone back to his estate, and such rejoicings as there was you never did see.”
“And he is not dead, then?”
“Dead! He is just as lively as a five-year-old!”
This was indeed good news. They were driven back to the ship, and that same afternoon, accompanied by Matty, after telegraphing for the carriage to meet them, they started by train up Deeside.
Yes, the carriage was there, and not only the Laird, but Mr Hall as well.
I leave anyone who reads these lines to imagine what that happy reunion was like, and how pleasantly spent was that first evening, with so much to say, so much to tell.
But a house was built for Mr Hall on the estate, and beautiful gardens surrounded it, and here he meant to settle down.
Jeannie was married in due course, but she and McGregor took a small farm near to Bilberry Hall, and on the estate, while Reginald and his wife lived in the mansion itself.