"Of late, especially, there has been a re-awakening of interest, since some of our villagers, while fishing at night, have seen (or so they declare) a shadowy form gliding in and out among the granite boulders, like some ghost about the tombs. And they are foolish enough to believe that the wraith of one of those dead men, more wicked perhaps than his companions, is doomed to haunt the place, ceaselessly searching, it may be, for treasure which he is never permitted to find. Great folly, sir general, such superstition," added Philip, shrugging his shoulders; "but you see—"
"I have heard it said," interrupted the stranger, silencing the steward with an impatient gesture, "that in a mountain and lake country the legends of the old days are more in number and live longer than in a flat land. This is perchance because nature has there no fastnesses wherein to store the things which make for tradition.
"Well good Philip Bexal, I thank thee for thy courtesy, and now I shall be moving on. But first, I will just peep round this singular pile of rocks; it looks, methinks, almost like a grotto."
Then Blonda heard a step, and in another moment the handsome face and lofty form of the young officer appeared in the opening.
"Good-morning, my little maid," said he kindly; "tell me thy name?"
"I am Blonda Reuss," replied the child.
"Her father is Grubert Reuss, one of the woodcutters on this estate," put in Philip, who had followed the stranger.
"And art thou an only child, little Blonda?" asked the young officer.
"No, sir, I have a brother, Tonie is his name; see, he is yonder, fishing from the raft by the island."
"He then, for one, fears not the ghosts," laughed the stranger.