But the old grandmother knew a little English too.
"Yes, yes, indeed, indeed," said she. "Whatever the ladies will be pleased."
And by and by they set out; the sure-footed young mountaineer acting as their guide. Night had fallen now, and there were no stars; but after they had gone on some time they could make out the sound of the sea—and it was a welcome sound, for it told them they were nearing the road that here runs all along the coast. And indeed it was not until they were actually in the highway that it occurred to Kate Glendinning to ask how far they had still to go before they got to Lochgarra.
"It will be about seex miles, or more than five miles whatever," was the answer.
"Six miles!" said Käthchen, faintly. "I wish we had stayed at your grandmother's cottage. Mamie, shall you ever be able to manage it?"
"I hope so, Käthchen," Mary said, though not very joyfully. "I am a little warmer now; and there is less wind blowing."
And so they went on—the unseen sea thundering beneath them in the dark, along the iron-bound coast—the wind sometimes rising into a mournful moan, but bringing no rain with it now. It was a long and weary tramp; but they were on a good road; and their brave little guide, whatever she may have thought of the darkness, went forward unhesitatingly.
Then of a sudden they beheld two points of fire away ahead of them; and presently there was a sound of wheels.
"I will give £20 for the loan of that carriage," said Mary, "whosesoever it is!"
"Why," said Käthchen joyfully, "in this neighbourhood, whose can it be but your own?"