"Oh, yes; whenever I have time; to draw is my greatest pleasure."
With all her frankness, he was not an inch nearer the discovery of her actual abode.
"I suppose you do not live far from the scene of your sketch?"
"Not far: Brosedale is quite a mile and a half on this side," touching the page with her pencil; "and the pathway to Monkscleugh goes over the brae."
"Indeed! I imagine I have heard the name of Brosedale before."
"Very likely; it is, I believe, the largest gentleman's seat in the neighborhood."
"Yes, yes; I remember now: it belongs to Sir Peter Fergusson."
"Exactly."
"She cannot be his daughter," thought Wilton; "I suppose she must be the governess.—I understand he is quite the grand seigneur of Monkscleugh," he said aloud.
"Well, I suppose so. He is a good little man—at least, whenever I see him he is very kind." After some further, but intermittent conversation, there was a sort of movement in the next room, and Wilton's companion begged him to go and see what was the matter.