Out in the great hall, a draft set to dancing the flames of the candelabra at the foot of the marble staircase such that high overhead, the antlers seemed to leap in fear from the huntsman; swords and axes clashed anew, captured colours seemed once more to fly. On the far side of the staircase, a triangle of light from Father's study door signalled he had begun his day's work. My father's nocturnal habits were owing to the weakness of his eyes which rendered him prey to headache with exposure to sunlight -- even in its oft-dimmed form at Fayne. Thus his day began when mine ended. I crossed the hall and put my head round the door. He looked up with a smile. "Charlotte, my own." He shifted his chair, making space for me at his side. I, however, did not take my place on the stool. "How was your day, my dear?" "Capital, Father. I saw a badger." "Did you, now." He returned his attention to his desktop where he was restoring the head of a great tit. It was our habit to while away an evening's hour in sorting and restoring specimens or reading aloud; tonight, however, I was at a loss to dispel the dullness that had descended unaccountably upon me, and so pleaded sleepiness brought on by wholesome exertion. "Goodnight, Father." I bent and kissed his temple. He reached round and patted my head. "Goodnight, my treasure." I plucked a candle and ascended the marble stairs, careful as usual to lower my eyes lest they meet those in the portrait that towered above the landing. Nor, as I passed by the heavy gilt frame and commenced to mount the leftward branch, did I draw breath until the turning at the top of the stairs dispelled the sense of a painted gaze upon my back. My bedtime ablutions were attended by the usual fuss and prayerful palaver of Mrs. Knox, with the addition this evening of a poultice of moor moss applied to the angry abrasions on my inner thighs, thanks to Maisie. "You're wanting a saddle, lassie." "Really, Knoxy, who ever heard of saddling a sow?" My day had been perfectly ordinary. And for the first time, I deemed this unsatisfactory. Excerpted from Fayne: A Novel by Ann-Marie MacDonald All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.