He made notes of the manuscripts and books he thought Mr.
MacNairn would feel the deepest interest in.

He loved his library with all his being, and I knew he looked forward to talking to a man who would care for it in the same way.
He had been going over one of the highest shelves one day and had left his step-ladder leaning against it when he went elsewhere.

It was when I mounted the steps, as I often did when he left them, that I came upon the manuscript which related the old story of Dark Malcolm and his child.

It had been pushed behind some volumes, and I took it out because it looked so old and yellow.

And I opened at once at the page where the tale began.
At first I stood reading, and then I sat down on the broad top of the ladder and forgot everything.