He had wayfared long; he must have had many an adventure.

He had been from childhood a learner.

His touch upon a book spoke of adeptship in that world....

Well, here he was, and what would he do now, when he was laird?
Strickland lost himself in speculation.

Little or naught had ever been in Alexander's letters about women.
The white ash fell, the clock ticked, the wind went around the house with a faint, banshee crying.