He looked at his watch.

“Half-past seven,” he said.

“Yes; I thought I heard the first bell; we must make haste home.  Not but that my sisters are very good to me,” she continued, as she took the fly that Robert handed her and stuck it in her Tam o’ Shanter; “if I happen to have got hold of a fish, I am allowed to come in to dinner anyhow.  And then, you know, there is no great ceremony at this bungalow of a place; it’s different at the Braes, if Lady Adela happens to have a large house-party—­then I have to behave like other folk.  What do you say, Robert—­seven pounds?  Well, he made a good fight of it.  And I’m glad not to be going home empty-handed.”

So Lionel picked up her waterproof and put it over his arm; she shouldered her fishing-rod, after having reeled in the line; the handsome old gillie brought up the rear with the gaff and the slung grilse; and thus equipped the three of them set out for the lodge—­across the wide valley that was now all russet and golden under the warm light still lingering in the evening skies.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE TWELFTH.

When Lionel went down early next morning, he found Lady Adela’s father in sole possession; and was not long in discovering that the old earl was in a towering rage.

“Good-morning!” said this tall, pale, stooping-shouldered old gentleman, whose quite hairless face was surmounted by a brown wig.  “Well, what do you think of last night’s performance?  What do you think of it?  Did you ever know of any such gross outrage on common decency?  Why, God bless my soul and body, I never heard of such a thing!”

Lionel knew quite well what he meant.  The fact was that a Free Church minister whom Sir Hugh Cunyngham had met somewhere had called at Aivron Lodge; as the custom of that part of the country is, he was invited to stay to dinner; he sat late, told many stories, and drank a good deal of whiskey, until it was not judged prudent to let him try to get his pony across the ford, even if hospitality had not demanded that he should be offered a room for the night; and then, when every one was thinking of getting away to bed, the worthy man must needs insist on having family worship, to which the servants had also to be summoned.  It was the inordinate length of this service at such a time of night that had driven old Lord Fareborough to the verge of madness.

“Look at me!” he said to Lionel, in tones of deep and bitter indignation.  “Look at me—­a skeleton—­a wreck of a human being, who can only get along by the most careful nursing of his nervous system.  My heart is affected; I have serious doubts about the state of my lungs? it is only through the most assiduous nursing of my nerves that I exist at all.  And what is more maddening than enforced restraint—­imprisonment—­no chance of leaving the room, with all those strange servants at the door; why, God bless my soul, I call it an outrage!  I yield to no one in respect for the cloth, whether it is worn by a Presbyterian, or a Catholic, or one of my own church; but I say that no one has a right to thrust religious services down my throat!  What the devil did Cunyngham mean by asking him to stay to dinner at all?”