It was still broad daylight, but now the sky was grey and colourless,
and the mountains had ceased to smile. Like grim watching sentinels
they stood on either side, closing in the Glen in a solitude that was
almost awesome to behold. It seemed impossible to believe that twenty-
four hours earlier one had been in the great city, and had considered
Regent's Park countrified! Margot hurried forward to meet Ron, who was
strolling along by himself, the other men of the party being out of
sight. He looked at her with some anxiety, as she approached, and asked
an eager question-"What's the matter? Aren't you well? I thought you were not coming
out. You look quite white!"
"I'm cold and tired, and--scarey! The beauty seems to have disappeared,
and it's all so grim and grey. I made an excuse and came out to you
with a card to post--but we needn't take it to-night, it's too far to
the village."
"Nonsense! the walk is just what you need. You are tired with sitting
still, and a sharp trot will warm you up, and help you to sleep. Come
along. I'll give you a start to the bend of the road, and race you to
the nearest tree."
Margot was not in the least in the mood for running races, but as a
means of getting warm it was not to be despised, so she started
promptly, running with swift, easy steps, and gradually quickening pace,
as Ron gained upon her from the rear. She had not been educated at a
girls' public school and been captain of the sports committee for
nothing, and, given a short handicap, could often come off best. As the
following footsteps grew nearer and nearer she spurted bravely forward,
the ends of her cape streaming wildly in the breeze, her uncovered hair
ruffled into curling ends. The tree was but a few yards distant; she
was laughing and panting, dodging from right and left, to prevent Ron
from passing by from behind, when round a bend in the road a figure
appeared directly in her path, the figure of Brither Elgood himself, his
round eyes bulging with surprise and curiosity. He came to an abrupt
standstill in the middle of the road, and the racers followed his
example, looking, if the truth were told, a trifle abashed to be
discovered in so childish an amusement.
"Halloa! What is the matter? Is the Inn on fire?"
Margot laughed merrily. The voice, the tone, the manner, were those of
a friend of a lifetime, rather than an acquaintance of an hour. It was
impossible to answer formally; moreover, the humour of the idea made its
appeal.
"No, indeed! On ice, more likely! We were so cold that a race seemed
the only chance of getting warm! I hope we didn't startle you too
much!"