At last the carriages were ready, and we set out on our travels once more. The second day's journey was much more pleasant than the first, though the roads were no better; for the sun shone brightly, making the poor birds twitter a little in the bushes, and the hips and rowan berries glitter like jewels. For the first two or three hours, Mrs. Philippa chose to ride in the coach, so Mrs. Deborah took to her saddle-horse, while Amabel, Mary Lee, and I, had the smaller carriage to ourselves. We had been gradually rising for some time, and the purple mountains which we had seen ever since the fogs cleared off, seemed to be drawing nearer, so that we could discern the deep valleys and ravines which divided them. Amabel asked Richard what mountains those were.
"Those be the Cheviot Hills, miss; you will have heard of them, sure," answered Richard. "On the other side of them hills lies Scotland. We shall soon see the hall now, aye, a long time before we come to it."
Accordingly it was not long before Mrs. Deborah, riding to the side of the chaise, pointed out a mansion of considerable size, and built of grey-stone, standing on the hillside which rose in thickly-wooded slopes behind it, dark with fir trees, while higher still it passed into what seemed rocky pastures and moorland. A village church with roofs clustered about it was seen some distance below.
"There is your home, children," said she. "See how brightly the sun shines on the old house. I take it as a good omen."
"And I wish we were there, Mistress Deborah," said Richard. "It will be a stiff pull from the village with this slippery ground."
"We shall do very well, Richard," answered Mrs. Deborah. "I dare say the young ladies and Mary Lee will not mind walking a little to lighten the load."
We at once professed ourselves willing and glad to walk a while. Mrs. Deborah smiled, and bade us keep our strength till it was wanted, as we had seven miles yet to go.
We stopped for our nooning at a farmhouse where Mrs. Deborah was well-known, and where we were received with immense hospitality, and regaled with all sorts of good things—milk and cream, fresh bread and butter, cheese, honey, and cold beef. The good woman would have dressed a fowl for us, but that Mrs. Deborah would not allow.
This was the first time I ever tasted ewe-milk cheese. I should dearly love to see a bit once more, but you might as well talk to the folk hereabout of milking the cat as milking an ewe.
We had come down into quite a deep valley, through which ran a considerable stream, with narrow fertile fields on each side. Mrs. Deborah told us this was our own burn, swollen by the accession of several other streams. We now began to ascend once more, a part of our road lying between fine woods. Then we came to the village, which looked forlorn enough to me. The church was large and handsome, though partly in ruins, and there was a row of very ancient cottages near it built of stone and covered with tiles, which Mrs. Chloe told us were almshouses, maintained by a charge on the estate.