I felt, of course, that an apology was needed, and proceeded to make one, lame though it doubtless appeared.
“My friends,” I said, “when I tell you that I really have no excuse for intruding on your privacy, you will wonder why I am here. I shall retire at once when I inform you that long ago, before I went to sea, I used to reside with the minister of the strath beyond here. I have come back to pay him a visit. I was shooting to-day, and being overtaken by night, took the short cut home by the precipice side.”
“What!” exclaimed the gentleman, “you skirted that fearful precipice in the pitchy darkness that others are afraid to go near by day?”
“I’m an old mountaineer,” I said, and then described how I had managed safely and well.
“There used to be no house here,” I continued, “only an old hut; and when I came suddenly on a scene of light and loveliness, I just came up through the garden to see whether or not I was dreaming. And now good-night, friends.”
“Nay, nay,” cried the gentleman. “Even if you had not told me, I could have seen you were a sailor. We are just going to dine; you must join us.”
“I am dusty and not dressed.”
“The Highland dress is always dress.”
“But the minister! he will think I have met with an accident.”
“Mungo, our ghillie, shall run over to the manse and explain all.”