“Pray step outside, Miss Lamont,” Mr. Kemp invited and opened the door wide.
Now you must remember I had stumbled on this shack in the dark of a December night, and I had no idea of my location. But once I stepped outside, I knew exactly where I was, and how foolish I had been.
That first day of January 1812 was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful in creation. The Lord had seen fit to bless us with a bright curve of clear skies and a high sky that enhanced everything beneath it. I stood outside that shed and wondered at the delights of the day.
In the light of morning, the North Loch seemed far less formidable an obstacle, more like a tiny Highland Lochan or a muddy duck pond in a lowland village than a real loch. Indeed, I wondered how such an insignificant stretch of water could hav
