He heard her slowly pass, fancied he heard her stop one step, felt her presence from head to foot, and washed the harder.

When he thought she was far enough off, he put on the garments he had removed, and hastened away, drying himself as he went.
At the turn of the road, all at once rose the towers of Cairncarque.

There was a castle indeed!--something to call a castle!--with its huge square tower at every corner, and its still huger two towers in the middle of its front, its moat, and the causeway where once had been its drawbridge!--Yes! there were the spikes of the portcullis, sticking down from the top of the gateway, like the long upper teeth of a giant or ogre! That was a real castle--such as he had read of in books, such as he had seen in pictures! Castle Warlock would go bodily into half a quarter of it--would be swallowed up like a mouthful, and never seen again! Castle Warlock was twice as old--that was something! but why had not Lady Joan told him hundreds of stories about Cairncarque, instead of letting him gabble on about their little place?
But she could not love her castle as he did his, for she had no such father in it! That must be what made the difference! That was why she did not care to talk about it! Was he actually going to see her again?
and would she be to him the same as before?
For him, the years between had vanished; the entrancing shadows of years far away folded him round, and he was no more a man, but the boy who had climbed the wintry hills with her, and run down them again over the snow hand in hand with her.

But as he drew nigh the great pile, which grew as he approached it, his heart sank within him.

His head began to ache: a strange diffidence seized him; he could not go up to the door.