It was not wise that he should approach the house at that hour, she urged.
So, after a long and fervent leave-taking, he held her in a last embrace, and then, raising his cap, and saying, "Good-night, my darling, my own well-beloved!" he turned away and went at a swinging pace down the farm-road where he had left his car with lights extinguished.
She watched him disappear.

Then, sighing, she turned into the dark, winding path beneath the trees, the end of which came out upon the drive close to the house.
Half-way down, however, with sudden resolve, she took a narrower path to the left, and was soon on the outskirts of the wood and out again in the bright moonlight.
The night was so glorious that she had resolved to stroll alone, to think and devise some plan for the future.

Before her, silhouetted high against the steely sky, rose the two great, black, ivy-clad towers of the ancient castle.

The grim, crumbling walls stood dark and frowning amid the fairy-like scene, while from far below came up the faint rippling of the Ruthven Water.

A great owl flapped lazily from the ivy as she approached those historic old walls which in bygone days had held within them some of Scotland's greatest men.