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Macaur led him to one of his own rooms she glowed red and expectantly triumphant. "The young lady, your lordship it was wonderfu'!" But before she had time to say more Dowie had appeared and her face was smooth and serene to marvellousness. "The Almighty himself has been in this place, my lord," she said devoutly. "I didn't send more than a word, because she's like a schoolroom child about it.
Finding it she had lost hold and been overwhelmed. That was all. But as Jock Macaur carried her back to Darreuch, Dowie followed with slow heavy feet and heart. They took her to the Tower room and laid her on her sofa because she had faintly whispered. "Please let me lie by the window," as they mounted the stone stairs. "Open it wide," she whispered again when Macaur had left them alone.
But at last there grew within her mind the fearsome thought that somehow the very look of her charge was the look of a young thing who had done with Nature and between whom and Nature the link had been broken. There were beginning to be young lambs on the hillside and Jock Macaur was tending them and their mothers with careful shepherding.
If this goes on she will end by being in a perfectly normal condition." "That's what I'm working for, sir," said Dowie. Whereupon Dr. Benton went away and thought still stranger and deeper things as he drove home over the moor road which twisted through the heather. The next day's post delivered by Macaur himself brought as it did weekly a package of books and carefully chosen periodicals.
She ran in and out and to and fro like a little girl. There seemed no limit to the young vigour that appeared day by day to increase rather than diminish. "It's a wonderful thing and God be thankit," said Mrs. Macaur. Only Dowie in secret trembled sometimes before the marvel of her. As Doctor Benton had imagined, she prayed forcefully.
Jock Macaur driving his sheep to fold in the westering sun wore the look of a man not unpleased with life and at least undisturbed by it. Maggy Macaur doing her housework, churning or clucking to her hens, was peacefully cheerful and seemed to ask no more of life than food and sleep and comfortable work which could be done without haste.
Her strength increased with her blooming until no one could have felt fear for or doubt of her. She walked upon the moor without fatigue, she even worked in a garden Jock Macaur had laid out for her inside the ruined walls of what had once been the castle's banquet hall. So much of her life had been spent in London that wild moor and sky and the growing of things thrilled her.
"Perhaps he's asked her to do it," she thought. But Robin said nothing which could make a fourth time. After she had eaten her breakfast she sat down and wrote a letter. It did not seem a long one and when she had finished it she sent it to the post by Jock Macaur. There had been dark news both by land and sea that day, and Coombe had been out for many hours.
It was to be faced this morning when Robin came down in her soft felt hat and short tweed skirt and coat for walking. Dowie saw Mrs. Macaur staring through a window at her, with slightly open mouth, as if suddenly struck with amazement which held in it a touch of shock. Dowie herself was obliged to make an affectionate joke.
They had held him a moment or so staring and then he had gone into the shop and asked for their catalogue. "Yes, he knew," Dowie replied. A letter had been written to London signed by Dowie and the models and patterns had been sent to the village and brought to the castle by Jock Macaur.
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