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Updated: May 1, 2025
It was still early in the afternoon when Lionel found himself driving along a loftily-winding road overlooking the wide and fertile valley of the Aivron.
Lionel Moore. And what had become of the Aivron and the Geinig now? their distant murmurs were easily drowned in the roar of enthusiasm with which the vast audience a mass of orange-hued faces they seemed across the footlights greeted the prima-donna and the popular young baritone. Nina was here also, in her subordinate part.
Their course at first lay along the nearer bank of the Aivron; but, when they had got away up the strath towards the neighborhood of the Bad Step which was, of course, impassable for the pony Lionel had to separate from his companions and ford the river, following up the other side.
The precipice on which he stood going sheer down into the Aivron, the path along the stream left the banks some distance off, came up to where he stood, and then descended again by a deep gorge probably cut by water-power through the slaty rock.
AIVRON LODGE, CAMPDEN HILL, Feb. 23. "MY DEAR MR. MOORE, It is really quite shocking the way you have neglected us of late, and I, at least, cannot imagine any reason. Perhaps we have both been in fault. My sisters and I have all been very busy, in our several ways; and then it is awkward you should have only the one Sunday evening free.
All that night it poured a deluge, and the morning beheld the Aivron in roaring spate, the familiar landmarks of the banks having mostly disappeared and also many of the mid-channel rocks; while the blue-black current that came whirling down the strath seemed to bring with it the dull, constant thunder of the distant falls.
One morning, the weather being much too bright and clear for the shallower pools of the Aivron, they thought they would take luncheon with them, and stroll up to the Geinig, where, in the afternoon, the deeper pools might give them a chance, especially if a few clouds were to come over.
Oh, to think of that next morning the sweet air blowing down from the hills the silver lights among the purple clouds the Aivron swinging along its gravelly bed, a deep, clear bronze where the sunlight strikes the shallows!
Now, several times during the morning they had come in view of the Aivron, winding far below them through the wide strath, or narrowing to a thread as it rose towards the high horizon-line in the west; and always, when there was a momentary chance, Lionel's eye had sought these distant sweeps and bends for some glimpse of the lonely angler-maiden, and sought in vain.
But his next achievement was hardly so creditable. They were skirting the edge of a birch-wood that clothed the side of a steep precipice overlooking the Aivron, where there were some patches of bracken among the heather, when the setter in front of him a young dog began to draw rather falteringly on to something. "Ware rabbit, Hector!" the keeper said, in an undertone.
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