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+                         WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I
+
+
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost
+no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
+under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
+eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+
+Title: White Wings, Volume I
+       A Yachting Romance
+Author: William Black
+Release Date: September 27, 2013 [EBook #43828]
+Language: English
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I (OF 3)
+***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+                              WHITE WINGS:
+
+                          A Yachting Romance.
+
+
+                                   BY
+
+                             WILLIAM BLACK,
+
+            AUTHOR OF "THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PHAETON,"
+                 "GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY," ETC.
+
+
+
+                          _IN THREE VOLUMES._
+
+                                VOL. I.
+
+
+
+                                London:
+                           MACMILLAN AND CO.
+                                 1880.
+
+        _The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved._
+
+
+
+
+                                LONDON:
+                       R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR,
+                           BREAD STREET HILL.
+
+
+
+
+                                 TO OUR
+
+                             *QUEEN MABS,*
+
+               IN MEMORY OF HER FIRST CRUISE ON BOARD ANY
+             YACHT, THIS RECORD OF OUR LONG SUMMER IDLENESS
+             IN 1878 IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY HER
+                      OBLIGED AND HUMBLE SERVANT,
+
+                             _THE AUTHOR._
+
+                         BRIGHTON, _June_ 1880.
+
+
+
+
+                              *CONTENTS.*
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I.
+
+ON THE QUAY
+
+                              CHAPTER II.
+
+MARY AVON
+
+                              CHAPTER III.
+
+UNDER WAY
+
+                              CHAPTER IV.
+
+A MESSAGE
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+
+A BRAVE CAREER
+
+                              CHAPTER VI.
+
+OUR NEW GUESTS
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+
+NORTHWARD
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII.
+
+PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS
+
+                              CHAPTER IX.
+
+A WILD STUDIO
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+
+"DUNVEGAN!—OH!  DUNVEGAN!"
+
+                              CHAPTER XI.
+
+DRAWING NEARER
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII.
+
+FERDINAND AND MIRANDA
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+
+EVIL TIDINGS
+
+                              CHAPTER XV.
+
+TEMPTATION
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THROUGH THE DARK
+
+
+
+
+                             *WHITE WINGS:*
+
+                         *A Yachting Romance.*
+
+
+
+                              *CHAPTER I.*
+
+                             *ON THE QUAY.*
+
+
+A murmur runs through the crowd; the various idlers grow alert; all eyes
+are suddenly turned to the south.  And there, far away over the green
+headland, a small tuft of brown smoke appears, rising into the golden
+glow of the afternoon, and we know that by and by we shall see the great
+steamer with her scarlet funnels come sailing round the point.  The
+Laird of Denny-mains assumes an air of still further importance; he
+pulls his frock-coat tight at the waist; he adjusts his black satin
+necktie; his tall, white, stiff collar seems more rigid and white than
+ever.  He has heard of the wonderful stranger; and he knows that now she
+is drawing near.
+
+Heard of her?  He has heard of nothing else since ever he came to us in
+these northern wilds.  For the mistress of this household—with all her
+domineering ways and her fits of majestic temper—has a love for her
+intimate girl-friends far passing the love of men; especially when the
+young ladies are obedient, and gentle, and ready to pay to her matronly
+dignity the compliment of a respectful awe. And this particular friend
+who is now coming to us: what has not the Laird heard about her during
+these past few days?—of her high courage, her resolute unselfishness,
+her splendid cheerfulness?  "A singing-bird in the house," that was one
+of the phrases used, "in wet weather or fine."  And then the
+enthusiastic friend muddled her metaphors somehow, and gave the puzzled
+Laird to understand that the presence of this young lady in a house was
+like having sweet-brier about the rooms.  No wonder he put on his
+highest and stiffest collar before he marched grandly down with us to
+the quay.
+
+"And does she not deserve a long holiday sir?" says the Laird’s hostess
+to him, as together they watch for the steamer coming round the point.
+"Just fancy!  Two months’ attendance on that old woman, who was her
+mother’s nurse.  Two months in a sick-room, without a soul to break the
+monotony of it. And the girl living in a strange town all by herself!"
+
+"Ay; and in such a town as Edinburgh," remarks the Laird, with great
+compassion. His own property lies just outside Glasgow.
+
+"Dear me," says he, "what must a young English leddy have thought of our
+Scotch way of speech when she heard they poor Edinburgh bodies and their
+yaumering sing-song?  Not that I quarrel with any people for having an
+accent in their way of speaking; they have that in all parts of England
+as well as in Scotland—in Yorkshire, and Somersetshire, and what not;
+and even in London itself there is a way of speech that is quite
+recognisable to a stranger.  But I have often thought that there was
+less trace of accent about Glesca and the west of Scotland than in any
+other part; in fact, ah have often been taken for an Englishman maself."
+
+"Indeed!" says this gentle creature standing by him; and her upturned
+eyes are full of an innocent belief.  You would swear she was meditating
+on summoning instantly her boys from Epsom College that they might
+acquire a pure accent—or get rid of all accent—on the banks of the
+Clyde.
+
+"Yes," say the Laird, with a decision almost amounting to enthusiasm,
+"it is a grand inheritance that we in the south of Scotland are
+preserving for you English people; and you know little of it.  You do
+not know that we are preserving the English language for you as it was
+spoken centuries ago, and as you find it in your oldest writings.
+Scotticisms! Why, if ye were to read the prose of Mandeville or Wyclif,
+or the poetry of Robert of Brunne or Langdale, ye would find that our
+Scotticisms were the very pith and marrow of the English language.  Ay;
+it is so."
+
+The innocent eyes express such profound interest that the Laird of
+Denny-mains almost forgets about the coming steamer, so anxious is he to
+crush us with a display of his erudition.
+
+"It is just remarkable," he says, "that your dictionaries should put
+down, as obsolete, words that are in common use all over the south of
+Scotland, where, as I say, the old Northumbrian English is preserved in
+its purity; and that ye should have learned people hunting up in Chaucer
+or Gower for the very speech that they might hear among the bits o’
+weans running about the Gallowgate or the Broomielaw.  ’_Wha’s acht
+ye?_’ you say to one of them; and you think you are talking Scotch. No,
+no; _acht_ is only the old English for possession: isn’t ’_Wha’s acht
+ye?_’ shorter and pithier than ’_To whom do you belong?_’
+
+"Oh, certainly!" says the meek disciple: the recall of the boys from
+Surrey is obviously decided on.
+
+"And _speir_ for _inquire_; and _ferly_ for _wonderful_; and _tyne_ for
+_lose_; and _fey_ for _about to die_; and _reek_ for _smoke_; and
+_menseful_ for _becoming_; and _belyve_, and _fere_, and _biggan_, and
+such words.  Ye call them Scotch?  Oh, no, ma’am; they are English; ye
+find them in all the old English writers; and they are the best of
+English too; a great deal better than the Frenchified stuff that your
+southern English has become."
+
+Not for worlds would the Laird have wounded the patriotic sensitiveness
+of this gentle friend of his from the South; but indeed, she had surely
+nothing to complain of in his insisting to an Englishwoman on the value
+of thorough English?
+
+"I thought," says she, demurely, "that the Scotch had a good many French
+words in it."
+
+The Laird pretends not to hear: he is so deeply interested in the
+steamer which is now coming over the smooth waters of the bay. But,
+having announced that there are a great many people on board, he returns
+to his discourse.
+
+"Ah’m sure of this, too," says he, "that in the matter of pronunciation
+the Lowland Scotch have preserved the best English—you can see that
+_faither_, and _twelmonth_, and _twa_, and such words are nearer the
+original Anglo-Saxon——"
+
+His hearers had been taught to shudder at the phrase Anglo-Saxon—without
+exactly knowing why.  But who could withstand the authority of the
+Laird?  Moreover, we see relief drawing near; the steamer’s paddles are
+throbbing in the still afternoon.
+
+"If ye turn to _Piers the Plowman_," continues the indefatigable
+Denny-mains, "ye will find Langdale writing—
+
+    And a fewe Cruddes and Crayme.
+
+Why, it is the familiar phrase of our Scotch children!—Do ye think they
+would say _curds_? And then, _fewe_.  I am not sure, but I imagine we
+Scotch are only making use of old English when we make certain forms of
+food plural. We say ’a few broth;’ we speak of porridge as ’they.’
+Perhaps that is a survival, too, eh?"
+
+"Oh, yes, certainly.  But please mind the ropes, sir," observes his
+humble pupil, careful of her master’s physical safety.  For at this
+moment the steamer is slowing into the quay; and the men have the ropes
+ready to fling ashore.
+
+"Not," remarks the Laird, prudently backing away from the edge of the
+pier, "that I would say anything of these matters to your young English
+friend; certainly not.  No doubt she prefers the southern English she
+has been accustomed to.  But, bless me! just to think that she should
+judge of our Scotch tongue by the way they Edinburgh bodies speak!"
+
+"It is sad, is it not?" remarks his companion—but all her attention is
+now fixed on the crowd of people swarming to the side of the steamer.
+
+"And, indeed," the Laird explains, to close the subject, "it is only a
+hobby of mine—only a hobby.  Ye may have noticed that I do not use those
+words in my own speech, though I value them.  No, I will not force any
+Scotch on the young leddy.  As ah say, ah have often been taken for an
+Englishman maself, both at home and abroad."
+
+And now—and now—the great steamer is in at the quay; the gangways are
+run over; there is a thronging up the paddle-boxes; and eager faces on
+shore scan equally eager faces on board—each pair of eyes looking for
+that other pair of eyes to flash a glad recognition. And where is
+she—the flower of womankind—the possessor of all virtue and grace and
+courage—the wonder of the world?  The Laird shares in our excitement.
+He, too, scans the crowd eagerly.  He submits to be hustled by the
+porters; he hears nothing of the roaring of the steam; for is she not
+coming ashore at last?  And we know—or guess—that he is looking out for
+some splendid creature—some Boadicea, with stately tread and imperious
+mien—some Jephtha’s daughter, with proud death in her eyes—some Rosamond
+of our modern days, with a glory of loveliness on her face and hair.
+And we know that the master who has been lecturing us for half-an-hour
+on our disgraceful neglect of pure English will not shock the sensitive
+Southern ear by any harsh accent of the North; but will address her in
+beautiful and courtly strains, in tones such as Edinburgh never knew.
+Where is the queen of womankind, amid all this commonplace, hurrying,
+loquacious crowd?
+
+Forthwith the Laird, with a quick amazement in his eyes, sees a small
+and insignificant person—he only catches a glimpse of a black dress and
+a white face—suddenly clasped round in the warm embrace of her friend.
+He stares for a second; and then he exclaims—apparently to himself:—
+
+"Dear me!  What a shilpit bit thing!"
+
+_Pale—slight—delicate—tiny_: surely such a master of idiomatic English
+cannot have forgotten the existence of these words.  But this is all he
+cries to himself, in his surprise and wonder:—
+
+"Dear me!  What a shilpit bit thing!"
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER II.*
+
+                              *MARY AVON.*
+
+
+The bright, frank laugh of her face!—the friendly, unhesitating,
+affectionate look in those soft black eyes!  He forgot all about
+Rosamond and Boadicea when he was presented to this "shilpit" person.
+And when, instead of the usual ceremony of introduction, she bravely put
+her hand in his, and said she had often heard of him from their common
+friend, he did not notice that she was rather plain.  He did not even
+stop to consider in what degree her Southern accent might be improved by
+residence amongst the preservers of pure English.  He was anxious to
+know if she was not greatly tired.  He hoped the sea had been smooth as
+the steamer came past Easdale.  And her luggage—should he look after her
+luggage for her?
+
+But Miss Avon was an expert traveller, and quite competent to look after
+her own luggage. Even as he spoke, it was being hoisted on to the
+waggonette.
+
+"You will let me drive?" says she, eying critically the two shaggy,
+farm-looking animals.
+
+"Indeed I shall do nothing of the kind," says her hostess, promptly.
+
+But there was no disappointment at all on her face as we drove away
+through the golden evening—by the side of the murmuring shore, past the
+overhanging fir-wood, up and across the high land commanding a view of
+the wide western seas.  There was instead a look of such intense delight
+that we knew, however silent the lips might be, that the bird-soul was
+singing within.  Everything charmed her—the cool, sweet air, the scent
+of the sea-weed, the glow on the mountains out there in the west.  And
+as she chattered her delight to us—like a bird escaped from its prison
+and glad to get into the sunlight and free air again—the Laird sate mute
+and listened.  He watched the frank, bright, expressive face. He
+followed and responded to her every mood—with a sort of fond paternal
+indulgence that almost prompted him to take her hand.  When she smiled,
+he laughed.  When she talked seriously, he looked concerned.  He was
+entirely forgetting that she was a "shilpit bit thing;" and he would
+have admitted that the Southern way of speaking English—although, no
+doubt, fallen away from the traditions of the Northumbrian dialect—had,
+after all, a certain music in it that made it pleasant to the ear.
+
+Up the hill, then, with a flourish for the last!—the dust rolling away
+in clouds behind us—the view over the Atlantic widening as we ascend.
+And here is Castle Osprey, as we have dubbed the place, with its wide
+open door, and its walls half hidden with tree-fuchsias, and its great
+rose-garden.  Had Fair Rosamond herself come to Castle Osprey that
+evening, she could not have been waited on with greater solicitude than
+the Laird showed in assisting this "shilpit bit thing" to alight—though,
+indeed there was a slight stumble, of which no one took any notice at
+the time. He busied himself with her luggage quite unnecessarily.  He
+suggested a cup of tea, though it wanted but fifteen minutes to
+dinner-time.  He assured her that the glass was rising—which was not the
+case.  And when she was being hurried off to her own room to prepare for
+dinner—by one who rules her household with a rod of iron—he had the
+effrontery to tell her to take her own time: dinner could wait.  The man
+actually proposed to keep dinner waiting—in Castle Osprey.
+
+That this was love at first sight, who could doubt?  And perhaps the
+nimble brain of one who was at this moment hurriedly dressing in her own
+room—and whom nature has constituted an indefatigable matchmaker—may
+have been considering whether this rich old bachelor might not marry,
+after all.  And if he were to marry, why should not he marry the young
+lady in whom he seemed to have taken so sudden and warm an interest?  As
+for her: Mary Avon was now two or three-and-twenty; she was not likely
+to prove attractive to young men; her small fortune was scarcely worth
+considering; she was almost alone in the world.  Older men had married
+younger women.  The Laird had no immediate relative to inherit
+Denny-mains and his very substantial fortune.  And would they not see
+plenty of each other on board the yacht?
+
+But in her heart of hearts the schemer knew better.  She knew that the
+romance-chapter in the Laird’s life—and a bitter chapter it was—had been
+finished and closed and put away many and many a year ago.  She knew how
+the great disappointment of his life had failed to sour him; how he was
+ready to share among friends and companions the large and generous heart
+that had been for a time laid at the feet of a jilt; how his keen and
+active interest, that might have been confined to his children and his
+children’s children, was now devoted to a hundred things—the planting at
+Denny-mains, the great heresy case, the patronage of young artists, even
+the preservation of pure English, and what not.  And that fortunate
+young gentleman—ostensibly his nephew—whom he had sent to Harrow and to
+Cambridge, who was now living a very easy life in the Middle Temple, and
+who would no doubt come in for Denny-mains?  Well, we knew a little
+about that young man, too.  We knew why the Laird, when he found that
+both the boy’s father and mother were dead, adopted him, and educated
+him, and got him to call him uncle.  He had taken under his care the son
+of the woman who had jilted him five-and-thirty years ago; the lad had
+his mother’s eyes.
+
+And now we are assembled in the drawing-room—all except the new guest;
+and the glow of the sunset is shining in at the open windows. The Laird
+is eagerly proving to us that the change from the cold east winds of
+Edinburgh to the warm westerly winds of the Highlands must make an
+immediate change in the young lady’s face—and declaring that she ought
+to go on board the yacht at once—-and asserting that the ladies’ cabin
+on board the _White Dove_ is the most beautiful little cabin he ever
+saw—when——
+
+When, behold! at the open door—meeting the glow of the sunshine—appears
+a figure—dressed all in black velvet, plain and unadorned but for a
+broad belt of gold fringe that comes round the neck and crosses the
+bosom.  And above that again is a lot of white muslin stuff, on which
+the small, shapely, smooth-dressed head seems gently to rest.  The plain
+black velvet dress gives a certain importance and substantiality to the
+otherwise slight figure; the broad fringe of gold glints and gleams as
+she moves towards us; but who can even think of these things when he
+meets the brave glance of Mary Avon’s eyes?  She was humming, as she
+came down the stair—
+
+_O think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa;_
+_For I’ll come and see ye, in spite o’ them a’,_
+
+—we might have known it was the bird-soul come among us.
+
+Now the manner in which the Laird of Denny-mains set about capturing the
+affections of this innocent young thing—as he sate opposite her at
+dinner—would have merited severe reproof in one of less mature age; and
+might, indeed, have been followed by serious consequences but for the
+very decided manner in which Miss Avon showed that she could take care
+of herself.  Whoever heard Mary Avon laugh would have been assured.  And
+she did laugh a good deal; for the Laird, determined to amuse her, was
+relating a series of anecdotes which he called "good ones," and which
+seemed to have afforded great enjoyment to the people of the south of
+Scotland during the last century or so.  There was in especial a
+Highland steward of a steamer about whom a vast number of these stories
+was told; and if the point was at times rather difficult to catch, who
+could fail to be tickled by the Laird’s own and obvious enjoyment?
+"There was another good one, Miss Avon," he would say; and then the bare
+memory of the great facetiousness of the anecdote would break out in
+such half-suppressed guffaws as altogether to stop the current of the
+narrative.  Miss Avon laughed—we could not quite tell whether it was at
+the Highland steward or the Laird—until the tears ran down her checks.
+Dinner was scarcely thought of.  It was a disgraceful exhibition.
+
+"There was another good one about Homesh," said the Laird, vainly
+endeavouring to suppress his laughter.  "He came up on deck one
+enormously hot day, and looked ashore, and saw some cattle standing
+knee-deep in a pool of water.  Says he—ha! ha! ha!—ho! ho! ho!—says
+he—-says he—’_A wish a wass a stot!_’—he! he! he!—ho! ho! ho!"
+
+Of course we all laughed heartily, and Mary Avon more than any of us;
+but if she had gone down on her knees and sworn that she knew what the
+point of the story was, we should not have believed her.  But the Laird
+was delighted.  He went on with his good ones.  The mythical Homesh and
+his idiotic adventures became portentous.  The very servants could
+scarcely carry the dishes straight.
+
+But in the midst of it all the Laird suddenly let his knife and fork
+drop on his plate, and stared.  Then he quickly exclaimed—
+
+"Bless me! lassie!"
+
+We saw in a second what had occasioned his alarm.  The girl’s face had
+become ghastly white; and she was almost falling away from her chair
+when her hostess, who happened to spring to her feet first, caught her,
+and held her, and called for water.  What could it mean?  Mary Avon was
+not of the sighing and fainting fraternity.
+
+And presently she came to herself—and faintly making apologies, would go
+from the room.  It was her ankle, she murmured—with the face still white
+from pain.  But when she tried to rise, she fell back again: the agony
+was too great.  And so we had to carry her.
+
+About ten minutes thereafter the mistress of the house came back to the
+Laird, who had been sitting by himself, in great concern.
+
+"That girl! that girl!" she exclaims—and one might almost imagine there
+are tears in her eyes.  "Can you fancy such a thing!  She twists her
+ankle in getting down from the waggonette—brings back the old
+sprain—perhaps lames herself for life—and, in spite of the pain, sits
+here laughing and joking, so that she may not spoil our first evening
+together! Did you ever hear of such a thing!  Sitting here laughing,
+with her ankle swelled so that I had to cut the boot off!"
+
+"Gracious me!" says the Laird; "is it as bad as that?"
+
+"And if she should become permanently lame—why—why——"
+
+But was she going to make an appeal direct to the owner of Denny-mains?
+If the younger men were not likely to marry a lame little white-faced
+girl, that was none of his business. The Laird’s marrying days had
+departed five-and-thirty years before.
+
+However, we had to finish our dinner, somehow, in consideration to our
+elder guest. And then the surgeon came; and bound up the ankle hard and
+fast; and Miss Avon, with a thousand meek apologies for being so stupid,
+declared again and again that her foot would be all right in the
+morning, and that we must get ready to start.  And when her friend
+assured her that this preliminary canter of the yacht might just as well
+be put off for a few days—until, for example, that young doctor from
+Edinburgh came who had been invited to go a proper cruise with us—her
+distress was so great that we had to promise to start next day
+punctually at ten.  So she sent us down again to amuse the Laird.
+
+But hark! what is this we hear just as Denny-mains is having his whisky
+and hot water brought in?  It is a gay voice humming on the stairs—
+
+_By the margin of fair Zürich’s waters._
+
+
+"That girl!" cries her hostess angrily, as she jumps to her feet.
+
+The door opens; and here is Mary Avon, with calm self-possession, making
+her way to a chair.
+
+"I knew you wouldn’t believe me," she says coolly, "if I did not come
+down.  I tell you my foot is as well as may be; and Dot-and-carry-one
+will get down to the yacht in the morning as easily as any of you.  And
+that last story about Homesh," she says to the Laird, with a smile in
+the soft black eyes that must have made his heart jump.  "Really, sir,
+you must tell me the ending of that story; it was so stupid of me!"
+
+"Shilpit" she may have been; but the Laird, for one, was beginning to
+believe that this girl had the courage and nerve of a dozen men.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER III.*
+
+                              *UNDER WAY.*
+
+
+The first eager glance out on this brilliant and beautiful morning; and
+behold! it is all a wonder of blue seas and blue skies that we find
+before us, with Lismore lying golden-green in the sunlight, and the
+great mountains of Mull and Morven shining with the pale etherial
+colours of the dawn.  And what are the rhymes that are ringing through
+one’s brain—the echo perchance of something heard far away among the
+islands—the islands that await our coming in the west?—
+
+  _O land of red heather!_
+  _O land of wild weather,_
+_And the cry of the waves, and the laugh of the breeze!_
+  _O love, now, together_
+  _Through the wind and wild weather_
+_We spread our while sails to encounter the seas!_
+
+
+Up and out, laggards, now; and hoist this big red and blue and white
+thing up to the head of the tall pole that the lads far below may know
+to send the gig ashore for us!  And there, on the ruffled blue waters of
+the bay, behold! the noble _White Dove_, with her great mainsail, and
+mizzen, and jib, all set and glowing in the sun; and the scarlet caps of
+the men are like points of fire in this fair blue picture; and the red
+ensign is fluttering in the light north-westerly breeze.  Breakfast is
+hurried over; and a small person who has a passion for flowers is
+dashing hither and thither in the garden until she has amassed an armful
+of our old familiar friends—abundant roses, fuchsias, heart’s-ease,
+various coloured columbine, and masses of southernwood to scent our
+floating saloon; the waggonette is at the door, to take our invalid down
+to the landing-slip; and the Laird has discarded his dignified costume,
+and appears in a shooting-coat and a vast gray wide-awake.  As for Mary
+Avon, she is laughing, chatting, singing, here, there, and
+everywhere—giving us to understand that a sprained ankle is rather a
+pleasure than otherwise, and a great assistance in walking; until the
+Laird pounces upon her—as one might pounce on a butterfly—and imprisons
+her in the waggonette, with many a serious warning about her imprudence.
+There let her sing to herself as she likes—amid the wild confusion of
+things forgotten till the last moment and thrust upon us just as we
+start.
+
+And here is the stalwart and brown-bearded Captain John—John of Skye we
+call him—himself come ashore in the gig, in all his splendour of blue
+and brass buttons; and he takes off his peaked cap to the mistress of
+our household—whom some of her friends call Queen Titania, because of
+her midge-like size—and he says to her with a smile—
+
+"And will Mrs. —— herself be going with us this time?"
+
+That is Captain John’s chief concern: for he has a great regard for this
+domineering small woman; and shows his respect for her, and his own high
+notions of courtesy, by invariably addressing her in the third person.
+
+"Oh, yes, John!" says she—and she can look pleasant enough when she
+likes—"and this is a young friend of mine, Miss Avon, whom you have to
+take great care of on board."
+
+And Captain John takes off his cap again; and is understood to tell the
+young lady that he will do his best, if she will excuse his not knowing
+much English.  Then, with great care, and with some difficulty, Miss
+Avon is assisted down from the waggonette, and conducted along the rough
+little landing-slip, and helped into the stern of the shapely and
+shining gig.  Away with her, boys!  The splash of the oars is heard in
+the still bay; the shore recedes; the white sails seem to rise higher
+into the blue sky as we near the yacht; here is the black hull with its
+line of gold—the gangway open—the ropes ready—the white decks brilliant
+in the sun.  We are on board at last.
+
+"And where will Mr. —— himself be for going?" asks John of Skye, as the
+men are hauling the gig up to the davits.
+
+Mr. —— briefly but seriously explains to the captain that, from some
+slight experience of the winds on this coast, he has found it of about
+as much use to order the tides to be changed as to settle upon any
+definite route. But he suggests the circumnavigation of the adjacent
+island of Mull as a sort of preliminary canter for a few days, until a
+certain notable guest shall arrive; and he would prefer going by the
+south, if the honourable winds will permit.  Further, John of Skye is
+not to be afraid of a bit of sea, on account of either of those ladies;
+both are excellent sailors. With these somewhat vague instructions,
+Captain John is left to get the yacht under way; and we go below to look
+after the stowage of our things in the various staterooms.
+
+And what is this violent altercation going on, in the saloon?
+
+"I will not have a word said against my captain," says Mary Avon.  "I am
+in love with him already.  His English is perfectly correct."
+
+This impertinent minx talking about correct English in the presence of
+the Laird of Denny-mains!
+
+"Mrs. —— herself is perfectly correct; it is only politeness; it is like
+saying ’Your Grace’ to a Duke."
+
+But who was denying it?  Surely not the imperious little woman who was
+arranging her flowers on the saloon table; nor yet Denny-mains, who was
+examining a box of variegated and recondite fishing-tackle?
+
+"It is all very well for fine ladies to laugh at the blunders of servant
+maids," continues this audacious girl.  "’Miss Brown presents her
+compliments to Miss Smith; and would you be so kind,’ and so on.  But
+don’t they often make the same blunder themselves?"
+
+Well, this was a discovery!
+
+"Doesn’t Mrs. So-and-So request the honour of the company of Mr.
+So-and-So or Miss So-and-So for some purpose or other; and then you find
+at one corner of the card ’_R.S.V.P._?’  ’Answer if YOU please’!"
+
+A painful silence prevailed.  We began to reflect.  Whom did she mean to
+charge with this deadly crime?
+
+But her triumph makes her considerate. She will not harry us with scorn.
+
+"It is becoming far less common now, however," she remarks.  "’An answer
+is requested,’ is much more sensible."
+
+"It is English," says the Laird, with decision.  "Surely it must be more
+sensible for an English person to write English.  Ah never use a French
+word maself."
+
+But what is the English that we hear now—called out on deck by the voice
+of John of Skye?
+
+"Eachan, slack the lee topping-lift!  Ay, and the tackle, too.  That’ll
+do, boys.  Down with your main-tack, now!"
+
+"Why," exclaims our sovereign mistress, who knows something of nautical
+matters, "we must have started!"
+
+Then there is a tumbling up the companion-way; and lo! the land is
+slowly leaving us; and there is a lapping of the blue water along the
+side of the boat; and the white sails of the _White Dove_ are filled
+with this gentle breeze.  Deck-stools are arranged; books and
+field-glasses and what not scattered about; Mary Avon is helped on deck,
+and ensconced in a snug little camp-chair.  The days of our summer
+idleness have begun.
+
+And as yet these are but familiar scenes that steal slowly by—the long
+green island of Lismore—_Lios-mor_, the Great Garden; the dark ruins of
+Duart, sombre as if the shadow of nameless tragedies rested on the
+crumbling walls; Loch Don, with its sea-bird-haunted shallows, and Loch
+Speliv leading up to the awful solitudes of Glen More; then, stretching
+far into the wreathing clouds, the long rampart of precipices, rugged
+and barren and lonely, that form the eastern wall of Mull.
+
+There is no monotony on this beautiful summer morning; the scene changes
+every moment, as the light breeze bears us away to the south.  For there
+is the Sheep Island; and Garveloch—which is the rough island; and
+Eilean-na naomha—which is the island of the Saints.  But what are these
+to the small transparent cloud resting on the horizon?—smaller than any
+man’s hand.  The day is still; and the seas are smooth: cannot we hear
+the mermaiden singing on the far shores of Colonsay?
+
+"Colonsay!" exclaims the Laird, seizing a field-glass.  "Dear me!  Is
+that Colonsay? And they telled me that Tom Galbraith was going there
+this very year."
+
+The piece of news fails to startle us altogether; though we have heard
+the Laird speak of Mr. Galbraith before.
+
+"Ay," says he, "the world will know something o’ Colonsay when Tom
+Galbraith gets there."
+
+"Whom did you say?" Miss Avon asks.
+
+"Why, Galbraith!" says he.  "Tom Galbraith!"
+
+The Laird stares in amazement.  Is it possible she has not heard of Tom
+Galbraith? And she herself an artist; and coming direct from Edinburgh,
+where she has been living for two whole months!
+
+"Gracious me!" says the Laird.  "Ye do not say ye have never heard of
+Galbraith—he’s an Academeecian!—a Scottish Academeecian!"
+
+"Oh, yes; no doubt," she says, rather bewildered.
+
+"There is no one living has had such an influence on our Scotch school
+of painters as Galbraith—a man of great abeelity—a man of great and
+uncommon abeelity—he is one of the most famous landscape painters of our
+day——"
+
+"I scarcely met any one in Edinburgh," she pleads.
+
+"But in London—in London!" exclaims the astonished Laird.  "Do ye mean
+to say you never heard o’ Tom Galbraith?"
+
+"I—I think not," she confesses.  "I—I don’t remember his name in the
+Academy catalogue——"
+
+"The Royal Academy!" cries the Laird, with scorn.  "No, no!  Ye need not
+expect that.  The English Academy is afraid of the Scotchmen: their
+pictures are too strong: you do not put good honest whisky beside small
+beer.  I say the English Academy is afraid of the Scotch school——"
+
+But flesh and blood can stand this no longer: we shall not have Mary
+Avon trampled upon.
+
+"Look here, Denny-mains: we always thought there was a Scotchman or two
+in the Royal Academy itself—and quite capable of holding their own
+there, too.  Why, the President of the Academy is a Scotchman! And as
+for the Academy exhibition, the very walls are smothered with Scotch
+hills, Scotch spates, Scotch peasants, to say nothing of the thousand
+herring-smacks of Tarbert."
+
+"I tell ye they are afraid of Tom Galbraith; they will not exhibit one
+of his pictures," says the Laird, stubbornly; and here the discussion is
+closed; for Master Fred tinkles his bell below, and we have to go down
+for luncheon.
+
+It was most unfair of the wind to take advantage of our absence, and to
+sneak off, leaving us in a dead calm.  It was all very well, when we
+came on deck again, to watch the terns darting about in their
+swallow-like fashion, and swooping down to seize a fish; and the strings
+of sea-pyots whirring by, with their scarlet beaks and legs; and the
+sudden shimmer and hissing of a part of the blue plain, where a shoal of
+mackerel had come to the surface; but where were we, now in the open
+Atlantic, to pass the night? We relinquished the doubling of the Ross of
+Mull; we should have been content—more than content, for the sake of
+auld lang syne—to have put into Carsaig; we were beginning even to have
+ignominious thoughts of Loch Buy.  And yet we let the golden evening
+draw on with comparative resignation; and we watched the colour
+gathering in the west, and the Atlantic taking darker hues, and a ruddy
+tinge beginning to tell on the seamed ridges of Garveloch and the isle
+of Saints.  When the wind sprung up again—it had backed to due west, and
+we had to beat against it with a series of long tacks, that took us down
+within sight of Islay and back to Mull apparently all for nothing—we
+were deeply engaged in prophesying all manner of things to be achieved
+by one Angus Sutherland, an old friend of ours, though yet a young man
+enough.
+
+"Just fancy, sir!" says our hostess to the Laird—the Laird, by the way,
+does not seem so enthusiastic as the rest of us, when he hears that this
+hero of modern days is about to join our party.  "What he has done beats
+all that I ever heard about Scotch University students; and you know
+what some of them have accomplished in the face of difficulties.  His
+father is a minister in some small place in Banffshire; perhaps he has
+200*l.* a year at the outside.  This son of his has not cost him a
+farthing for either his maintenance or his education, since he was
+fourteen; he took bursaries, scholarships, I don’t know what, when he
+was a mere lad; supported himself and travelled all over Europe—but I
+think it was at Leipsic and at Vienna he studied longest; and the papers
+he has written—the lectures—and the correspondence with all the great
+scientific people—when they made him a Fellow, all he said was, ’I wish
+my mother was alive.’"
+
+This was rather an incoherent and jumbled account of a young man’s
+career.
+
+"A Fellow of what?" says the Laird.
+
+"A Fellow of the Royal Society!  They made him a Fellow of the Royal
+Society last year!  And he is only seven-and-twenty!  I do believe he
+was not over one-and-twenty when he took his degree at Edinburgh.  And
+then—and then—there is really nothing that he doesn’t know: is there,
+Mary?"
+
+This sudden appeal causes Mary Avon to flush slightly; but she says
+demurely, looking down—
+
+"Of course I don’t know anything that he doesn’t know."
+
+"Hm!" says the Laird, who does not seem over pleased.  "I have observed
+that young men who are too brilliant at the first, seldom come to much
+afterwards.  Has he gained anything substantial?  Has he a good
+practice? Does he keep his carriage yet?"
+
+"No, no!" says our hostess, with a fine contempt for such things.  "He
+has a higher ambition than that.  His practice is almost nothing.  He
+prefers to sacrifice that in the meantime.  But his reputation—among the
+scientific—why—why, it is European!"
+
+"Hm!" says the Laird.  "I have sometimes seen that persons who gave
+themselves up to erudeetion, lost the character of human beings
+altogether.  They become scientific machines.  The world is just made up
+of books for them—and lectures—they would not give a halfpenny to a
+beggar for fear of poleetical economy——"
+
+"Oh, how can you say such a thing of Angus Sutherland!" says she—though
+he has said no such thing of Angus Sutherland. "Why, here is this girl
+who goes to Edinburgh—all by herself—to nurse an old woman in her last
+illness; and as Angus Sutherland is in Edinburgh on some
+business—connected with the University, I believe—I ask him to call on
+her and see if he can give her any advice. What does he do?  He stops in
+Edinburgh two months—editing that scientific magazine there instead of
+in London—and all because he has taken an interest in the old woman and
+thinks that Mary should not have the whole responsibility on her
+shoulders.  Is that like a scientific machine?"
+
+"No," says the Laird, with a certain calm grandeur; "you do not often
+find young men doing that for the sake of an old woman."  But of course
+we don’t know what he means.
+
+"And I am so glad he is coming to us!" she says, with real delight in
+her face.  "We shall take him away from his microscopes, and his
+societies, and all that.  Oh, and he is such a delightful companion—so
+simple, and natural, and straightforward!  Don’t you think so, Mary?"
+
+Mary Avon is understood to assent: she does not say much—she is so
+deeply interested in a couple of porpoises that appear from time to time
+on the smooth plain on the sea.
+
+"I am sure a long holiday would do him a world of good," says this eager
+hostess; "but that is too much to expect.  He is always too busy.  I
+think he has got to go over to Italy soon, about some exhibition of
+surgical instruments, or something of that sort."
+
+We had plenty of further talk about Dr. Sutherland, and of the wonderful
+future that lay before him, that evening before we finally put into Loch
+Buy.  And there we dined; and after dinner we found the wan, clear
+twilight filling the northern heavens, over the black range of
+mountains, and throwing a silver glare on the smooth sea around us.  We
+could have read on deck at eleven at night—-had that been necessary; but
+Mary Avon was humming snatches of songs to us, and the Laird was
+discoursing of the wonderful influence exerted on Scotch landscape-art
+by Tom Galbraith. Then in the south the yellow moon rose; and a golden
+lane of light lay on the sea, from the horizon across to the side of the
+yacht; and there was a strange glory on the decks and on the tall,
+smooth masts.  The peace of that night!—the soft air, the silence, the
+dreamy lapping of the water!
+
+"And whatever lies before Angus Sutherland," says one of us—"whether a
+baronetcy, or a big fortune, or marriage with an Italian princess—he
+won’t find anything better than sailing in the _White Dove_ among the
+western islands."
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER IV.*
+
+                              *A MESSAGE.*
+
+
+What fierce commotion is this that awakes us in the morning—what
+pandemonium broken loose of wild storm-sounds—-with the stately _White
+Dove_, ordinarily the most sedate and gentle of her sex, apparently gone
+mad, and flinging herself about as if bent on somersaults?  When one
+clambers up the companion-way, clinging hard, and puts one’s head out
+into the gale, behold! there is not a trace of land visible
+anywhere—nothing but whirling clouds of mist and rain; and
+mountain-masses of waves that toss the _White Dove_ about as if she were
+a plaything; and decks all running wet with the driven spray.  John of
+Skye, clad from head to heel in black oilskins—and at one moment up in
+the clouds, the next moment descending into the great trough of the
+sea—-hangs on to the rope that is twisted round the tiller; and laughs a
+good-morning; and shakes the salt water from his shaggy eyebrows and
+beard.
+
+"Hallo!  John—where on earth have we got to?"
+
+"Ay, ay, sir."
+
+"I say WHERE ARE WE?" is shouted, for the roar of the rushing Atlantic
+in deafening.
+
+"’Deed I not think we are far from Loch Buy," says John of Skye, grimly.
+"The wind is dead ahead of us—ay, shist dead ahead!"
+
+"What made you come out against a headwind then?"
+
+"When we cam’ out," says John—picking his English, "the wind will be
+from the norse—ay, a fine light breeze from the norse.  And will Mr. ——
+himself be for going on now? it is a ferry bad sea for the leddies—a
+ferry coorse sea."
+
+But it appears that this conversation—bawled aloud—has been overheard.
+There are voices from below.  The skylight of the ladies’ cabin is
+partly open.
+
+"Don’t mind us," calls Mary Avon.  "Go on by all means!"
+
+The other voice calls—
+
+"Why can’t you keep this fool of a boat straight?  Ask him when we shall
+be into the Sound of Iona."
+
+One might as well ask him when we shall be into the Sound of Jericho or
+Jerusalem. With half a gale of wind right in our teeth, and with the
+heavy Atlantic swell running, we might labour here all day—and all the
+night too—without getting round the Ross of Mull. There is nothing for
+it but to turn and run, that we may have our breakfast in peace.  Let
+her away, then, you brave John of Skye!—slack out the main-sheet, and
+give her plenty of it, too: then at the same moment Sandy from Islay
+perceives that a haul at the weather topping-lift will clear the boom
+from the davits; and now—and now, good Master Fred—our much-esteemed and
+shifty Friedrich d’or—if you will but lay the cloth on the table, we
+will help you to steady the dancing phantasmagoria of plates and forks!
+
+"Dear me!" says the Laird, when we are assembled together, "it has been
+an awful night!"
+
+"Oh, I hope you have not been ill!" says his hostess, with a quick
+concern in the soft, clear eyes.
+
+He does not look as if he had suffered much.  He is contentedly chipping
+an egg; and withal keeping an eye on the things near him, for the _White
+Dove_, still plunging a good deal, threatens at times to make of
+everything on the table a movable feast.
+
+"Oh, no, ma’am, not ill," he says.  "But at my time of life, ye see, one
+is not as light in weight as one used to be; and the way I was flung
+about in that cabin last night was just extraordinary.  When I was
+trying to put on my boots this morning, I am sure I resembled nothing so
+much as a pea in a bladder—indeed it was so—I was knocked about like a
+pea in a bladder."
+
+Of course we expressed great sympathy, and assured him that the _White
+Dove_—famed all along this coast for her sober and steady-going
+behaviour—would never act so any more.
+
+"However," said he thoughtfully, "the wakefulness of the night is often
+of use to people.  Yes, I have come to a decision."
+
+We were somewhat alarmed: was he going to leave us merely because of
+this bit of tossing?
+
+"I dare say ye know, ma’am," says he slowly, "that I am one of the
+Commissioners of the Burgh of Strathgovan.  It is a poseetion of grave
+responsibility.  This very question now—about our getting a steam
+fire-engine—has been weighing on my mind for many a day.  Well, I have
+decided I will no longer oppose it.  They may have the steam fire-engine
+as far as I am concerned."
+
+We felt greatly relieved.
+
+"Yes," continued the Laird, solemnly, "I think I am doing my duty in
+this matter as a public man should—laying aside his personal prejudice.
+But the cost of it!  Do ye know that we shall want bigger nozzles to all
+the fire-plugs?"
+
+Matters were looking grave again.
+
+"However," said the Laird cheerfully—for he would not depress us too
+much, "it may all turn out for the best; and I will telegraph my
+decision to Strathgovan as soon as ever the storm allows us to reach a
+port."
+
+The storm, indeed!  When we scramble up on deck again, we find that it
+is only a brisk sailing breeze we have; and the _White Dove_ is bowling
+merrily along, flinging high the white spray from her bows.  And then we
+begin to see that, despite those driving mists around us, there is
+really a fine clear summer day shining far above this twopenny-halfpenny
+tempest.  The whirling mists break here and there; and we catch glimpses
+of a placid blue sky, flecked with lines of motionless cirrhus cloud.
+The breaks increase; floods of sunshine fall on the gleaming decks;
+clearer and clearer become the vast precipices of southern Mull; and
+then, when we get well to the lee of Eilean-straid-ean, behold! the blue
+seas around us once more; and the blue skies overhead; and the red
+ensign fluttering in the summer breeze.  No wonder that Mary Avon sings
+her delight—as a linnet sings after the rain; and though the song is not
+meant for us at all, but is really hummed to herself as she clings on to
+the shrouds and watches the flashing and dipping of the white-winged
+gulls, we know that it is all about a jolly young waterman.  The
+audacious creature: John of Skye has a wife and four children.
+
+Too quickly indeed does the fair summer day go by—as we pass the old
+familiar Duart and begin to beat up the Sound of Mull against a fine
+light sailing breeze.  By the time we have reached Ardtornish, the Laird
+has acquired some vague notion as to how the gaff topsail is set.
+Opposite the dark-green woods of Funeray, he tells us of the
+extraordinary faculty possessed by Tom Galbraith of representing the
+texture of foliage. At Salen we have Master Fred’s bell summoning us
+down to lunch; and thereafter, on deck, coffee, draughts, crochet, and a
+profoundly interesting description of some of the knotty points in the
+great Semple heresy case. And here again, as we bear away over almost to
+the mouth of Loch Sunart, is the open Atlantic—of a breezy grey under
+the lemon-colour and silver of the calm evening sky. What is the use of
+going on against this contrary wind, and missing, in the darkness of the
+night, all the wonders of the western islands that the Laird is anxious
+to see?  We resolve to run into Tobermory; and by and by we find
+ourselves under the shadow of the wooded rocks, with the little white
+town shining along the semicircle of the bay.  And very cleverly indeed
+does John of Skye cut in among the various craft—showing off a little
+bit, perhaps—until the _White Dove_ is brought up to the wind, and the
+great anchor-cable goes out with a roar.
+
+Now it was by the merest accident that we got at Tobermory a telegram
+that had been forwarded that very day to meet us on our return voyage.
+There was no need for any one to go ashore, for we were scarcely in port
+before a most praiseworthy gentleman was so kind as to send us on board
+a consignment of fresh flowers, vegetables, milk, eggs, and so forth—the
+very things that become of inestimable value to yachting people.
+However, we had two women on board; and of course—despite a certain
+bandaged ankle—they must needs go shopping.  And Mary Avon, when we got
+ashore, would buy some tobacco for her favourite Captain John; and went
+into the post-office for that purpose, and was having the black stuff
+measured out by the yard when some mention was made of the _White Dove_.
+Then a question was asked; there was a telegram; it was handed to Miss
+Avon, who opened it and read it.
+
+"Oh!" said she, looking rather concerned; and then she regarded her
+friend with some little hesitation.
+
+"It is my uncle," she says; "he wants to see me on very urgent business.
+He is—coming—to see me—the day after to-morrow."
+
+Blank consternation followed this announcement. This person, even though
+he was Mary Avon’s sole surviving relative, was quite intolerable to us.
+East Wind we had called him in secret, on the few occasions on which he
+had darkened our doors.  And just as we were making up our happy family
+party—with the Laird, and Mary, and Angus Sutherland—to sail away to the
+far Hebrides, here was this insufferable creature—with his raucous
+voice, his washed-out eyes, his pink face, his uneasy manner, and
+general groom or butler-like appearance—thrusting himself on us!
+
+"Well, you know, Mary," says her hostess—entirely concealing her dismay
+in her anxious politeness—"we shall almost certainly be home by the day
+after to-morrow, if we get any wind at all.  So you had better telegraph
+to your uncle to come on to Castle Osprey, and to wait for you if you
+are not there; we cannot be much longer than that. And Angus Sutherland
+will be there; he will keep him company until we arrive."
+
+So that was done, and we went on board again—one of us meanwhile vowing
+to himself that ere ever Mr. Frederick Smethurst set sail with us on
+board the _White Dove_, a rifle-bullet through her hull would send that
+gallant vessel to the lobsters.
+
+Now what do you think our Mary Avon set to work to do—all during this
+beautiful summer evening, as we sat on deck and eyed curiously the other
+craft in the bay, or watched the firs grow dark against the
+silver-yellow twilight?  We could not at first make out what she was
+driving at.  Her occupation in the world, so far as she had any—beyond
+being the pleasantest of companions and the faithfullest of friends—was
+the painting of landscapes in oil, not the construction of Frankenstein
+monsters.  But here she begins by declaring to us that there is one type
+of character that has never been described by any satirist, or
+dramatist, or fictionist—a common type, too, though only becoming
+pronounced in rare instances.  It is the moral Tartuffe, she
+declares—the person who is through and through a hypocrite, not to cloak
+evil doings, but only that his eager love of approbation may be
+gratified.  Look now how this creature of diseased vanity, of plausible
+manners, of pretentious humbug, rises out of the smoke like the figure
+summoned by a wizard’s wand!  As she gives us little touches here and
+there of the ways of this professor of bonhomie—this bundle of
+affectations—we begin to prefer the most diabolical villainy that any
+thousand of the really wicked Tartuffes could have committed.  He grows
+and grows.  His scraps of learning, as long as those more ignorant than
+himself are his audience; his mock humility anxious for praise; his
+parade of generous and sententious sentiment; his
+pretence—pretence—pretence—all arising from no evil machinations
+whatever, but from a morbid and restless craving for esteem.  Hence,
+horrible shadow! Let us put out the candles and get to bed.
+
+But next morning, as we find ourselves out on the blue Atlantic again,
+with Ru-na-Gaul lighthouse left far behind, and the pale line of Coll at
+the horizon, we begin to see why the skill and patient assiduity of this
+amateur psychologist should have raised that ghost for us the night
+before.  Her uncle is coming. He is not one of the plausible kind.  And
+if it should be necessary to invite him on board, might we not the more
+readily tolerate his cynical bluntness and rudeness, after we have been
+taught to abhor as the hatefullest of mortals the well-meaning hypocrite
+whose vanity makes his life a bundle of small lies? Very clever indeed,
+Miss Avon—very clever. But don’t you raise any more ghosts; they are
+unpleasant company—even as an antidote. And now, John of Skye, if it
+must be that we are to encounter this pestilent creature at the end of
+our voyage, clap on all sail now, and take us right royally down through
+these far islands of the west.  Ah! do we not know them of old?  Soon as
+we get round the Cailleach Point we descry the nearest of them amid the
+loneliness of the wide Atlantic sea. For there is Carnaburg, with her
+spur of rock; and Fladda, long and rugged, and bare; and Lunga, with her
+peak; and the Dutchman’s Cap—a pale blue in the south.  How bravely the
+_White Dove_ swings on her way—springing like a bird over the western
+swell!  And as we get past Ru-Treshnish, behold! another group of
+islands—Gometra and the green-shored Ulva, that guard the entrance to
+Loch Tua; and Colonsay, the haunt of the sea birds; and the rock of
+Erisgeir—all shining in the sun.  And then we hear a strange
+sound—different from the light rush of the waves—a low, and sullen, and
+distant booming, such as one faintly hears in a sea-shell. As the _White
+Dove_ ploughs on her way, we come nearer and nearer to this wonder of
+the deep—the ribbed and fantastic shores of Staffa; and we see how the
+great Atlantic rollers, making for the cliffs of Gribun and Burg, are
+caught by those outer rocks and torn into masses of white foam, and sent
+roaring and thundering into the blackness of the caves. We pass close
+by; the air trembles with the shock of that mighty surge; there is a
+mist of spray rising into the summer air.  And then we sail away again;
+and the day wears on as the white-winged _White Dove_ bounds over the
+heavy seas; and Mary Avon—as we draw near the Ross of Mull, all glowing
+in the golden evening—is singing a song of Ulva.
+
+But there is no time for romance, as the _White Dove_ (drawing eight
+feet of water) makes in for the shallow harbour outside Bunessan.
+
+"Down foresail!" calls out our John of Skye; and by and by her head
+comes up to the wind, the great mainsail flapping in the breeze.  And
+again, "Down chub, boys!" and there is another rattle and roar amid the
+silence of this solitary little bay.  The herons croak their fright and
+fly away on heavy wing; the curlews whistle shrilly; the sea-pyots whirr
+along the lonely shores.  And then our good Friedrich d’or sounds his
+silver-toned bell.
+
+The stillness of this summer evening on deck; the glory deepening over
+the wide Atlantic; the delightful laughter of the Laird over those "good
+ones" about Homesh; the sympathetic glance of Mary Avon’s soft black
+eyes: did we not value them all the more that we knew we had something
+far different to look forward to?  Even as we idled away the beautiful
+and lambent night, we had a vague consciousness that our enemy was
+stealthily drawing near.  In a day or two at the most we should find the
+grim spectre of the East Wind in the rose-garden of Castle Osprey.
+
+
+
+
+                              *CHAPTER V.*
+
+                           *A BRAVE CAREER.*
+
+
+Bur when we went on deck the next morning we forgot all about the
+detestable person who was about to break in upon our peace (there was
+small chance that our faithful Angus Sutherland might encounter the
+snake in this summer paradise, and trample on him, and pitch him out;
+for this easy way of getting rid of disagreeable folk is not permitted
+in the Highlands nowadays) as we looked on the beautiful bay shining all
+around us.
+
+"Dear me!" said Denny-mains, "if Tom Galbraith could only see that now!
+It is a great peety he has never been to this place. I’m thinking I must
+write to him."
+
+The Laird did not remember that we had an artist on board—one who, if
+she was not so great an artist as Mr. Galbraith, had at least exhibited
+one or two small landscapes in oil at the Royal Academy.  But then the
+Academicians, though they might dread the contrast between their own
+work and that of Tom Galbraith, could have no fear of Mary Avon.
+
+And even Mr. Galbraith himself might have been puzzled to find among his
+pigments any equivalent for the rare and clear colours of this morning
+scene as now we sailed away from Bunessan with a light topsail breeze.
+How blue the day was—blue skies, blue seas, a faint transparent blue
+along the cliffs of Burg and Gribun, a darker blue where the far
+Ru-Treshanish ran out into the sea, a shadow of blue to mark where the
+caves of Staffa retreated from the surface of the sun-brown rocks!  And
+here, nearer at hand, the warmer colours of the shore—the soft, velvety
+olive-greens of the moss and breckan; the splashes of lilac where the
+rocks were bare of herbage; the tender sunny reds where the granite
+promontories ran out to the sea; the beautiful cream-whites of the sandy
+bays!
+
+Here, too, are the islands again as we get out into the open—Gometra,
+with its one white house at the point; and Inch Kenneth, where the seals
+show their shining black heads among the shallows; and Erisgeir and
+Colonsay, where the skarts alight to dry their wings on the rocks; and
+Staffa, and Lunga, and the Dutchman, lying peaceful enough now on the
+calm blue seas.  We have time to look at them, for the wind is slight,
+and the broad-beamed _White Dove_ is not a quick sailer in a light
+breeze.  The best part of the forenoon is over before we find ourselves
+opposite to the gleaming white sands of the northern bays of Iona.
+
+"But surely both of us together will be able to make him stay longer
+than ten days," says the elder of the two women to the younger—and you
+may be sure she was not speaking of East Wind.
+
+Mary Avon looks up with a start; then looks down again—perhaps with the
+least touch of colour in her face—as she says hurriedly—
+
+"Oh, I think you will.  He is your friend. As for me—you see—I—I
+scarcely know him."
+
+"Oh, Mary!" says the other reproachfully. "You have been meeting him
+constantly all these two months; you must know him better than any of
+us.  I am sure I wish he was on board now—he could tell us all about the
+geology of the islands, and what not.  It will be delightful to have
+somebody on board who knows something."
+
+Such is the gratitude of women!—and the Laird had just been describing
+to her some further points of the famous heresy case.
+
+"And then he knows Gaelic!" says the elder woman.  "He will tell us what
+all the names of the islands mean."
+
+"Oh, yes," says the younger one, "he understands Gaelic very well,
+though he cannot speak much of it."
+
+"And I think he is very fond of boats," remarks our hostess.
+
+"Oh, exceedingly—exceedingly!" says the other, who, if she does not know
+Angus Sutherland, seems to have picked up some information about him
+somehow.  "You cannot imagine how he has been looking forward to sailing
+with you; he has scarcely had any holiday for years."
+
+"Then he must stay longer than ten days," says the elder woman; adding
+with a smile, "you know, Mary, it is not the number of his patients that
+will hurry him back to London."
+
+"Oh, but I assure you," says Miss Avon seriously, "that he is not at all
+anxious to have many patients—as yet!  Oh, no!—I never knew any one who
+was so indifferent about money.  I know he would live on bread and
+water—if that were necessary—to go on with his researches.  He told me
+himself that all the time he was at Leipsic his expenses were never more
+than 1*l.* a week."
+
+She seemed to know a good deal about the circumstances of this young
+F.R.S.
+
+"Look at what he has done with those anæsthetics," continues Miss Avon.
+"Isn’t it better to find out something that does good to the whole world
+than give yourself up to making money by wheedling a lot of old women?"
+
+This estimate of the physician’s art was not flattering.
+
+"But," she says warmly, "if the Government had any sense, that is just
+the sort of man they would put in a position to go on with his
+invaluable work.  And Oxford and Cambridge, with all their wealth, they
+scarcely even recognise the noblest profession that a man can devote
+himself to—when even the poor Scotch Universities and the Universities
+all over Europe have always had their medical and scientific chairs.  I
+think it is perfectly disgraceful!"
+
+Since when had she become so strenuous an advocate of the endowment of
+research?
+
+"Why, look at Dr. Sutherland—when he is burning to get on with his own
+proper work—when his name is beginning to be known all over Europe—he
+has to fritter away his time in editing a scientific magazine and in
+those hospital lectures.  And that, I suppose, is barely enough to live
+on.  But I know," she says, with decision, "that in spite of
+everything—I know that before he is five-and-thirty, he will be
+President of the British Association."
+
+Here, indeed, is a brave career for the Scotch student: cannot one
+complete the sketch as it roughly exists in the minds of those two
+women?
+
+At twenty-one, B.M. of Edinburgh.
+
+At twenty-six, F.R.S.
+
+At thirty, Professor of Biology at Oxford: the chair founded through the
+intercession of the women of Great Britain.
+
+At thirty-five, President of the British Association.
+
+At forty, a baronetcy, for further discoveries in the region of
+anæsthetics.
+
+At forty-five, consulting physician to half the gouty old gentlemen of
+England, and amassing an immense fortune.
+
+At fifty——
+
+Well, at fifty, is it not time that "the poor Scotch student," now
+become great and famous and wealthy, should look around for some
+beautiful princess to share his high estate with him?  He has not had
+time before to think of such matters.  But what is this now?  Is it that
+microscopes and test-tubes have dimmed his eyes?  Is it that honours and
+responsibilities have silvered his hair?  Or, is the drinking deep of
+the Pactolus stream a deadly poison?  There is no beautiful princess
+awaiting him anywhere.  He is alone among his honours.  There was once a
+beautiful princess—beautiful-souled and tender-eyed, if not otherwise
+too lovely—awaiting him among the Western Seas; but that time is over
+and gone many a year ago.  The opportunity has passed. Ambition called
+him away, and he left her; and the last he saw of her was when he bade
+good-bye to the _White Dove_.
+
+What have we to do with these idle dreams? We are getting within sight
+of Iona village now; and the sun is shining on the green shores, and on
+the ruins of the old cathedral, and on that white house just above the
+cornfield.  And as there is no good anchorage about the island, we have
+to make in for a little creek on the Mull side of the Sound, called
+Polterriv, or the Bull-hole; and this creek is narrow, tortuous, and
+shallow; and a yacht drawing eight feet of water has to be guided with
+some circumspection—especially if you go up to the inner harbour above
+the rock called the Little Bull.  And so we make inquiries of John of
+Skye, who has not been with us here before.  It is even hinted, that if
+he is not quite sure of the channel, we might send the gig over to Iona
+for John Macdonald, who is an excellent pilot.
+
+"John Macdonald!" exclaims John of Skye, whose professional pride has
+been wounded. "Will John Macdonald be doing anything more than I wass do
+myself in the Bull-hole—ay, last year—last year I will tek my own smack
+out of the Bull-hole at the norse end, and ferry near low water, too;
+and her deep-loaded?  Oh, yes, I will be knowing the Bull-hole this many
+a year."
+
+And John of Skye is as good as his word. Favoured by a flood-tide, we
+steal gently into the unfrequented creek, behind the great rocks of red
+granite; and so extraordinarily clear is the water that, standing
+upright on the deck, we can see the white sand of the bottom with shoals
+of young saithe darting this way and that.  And then just as we get
+opposite an opening in the rocks, through which we can descry the
+northern shores of Iona, and above those the blue peak of the Dutchman,
+away goes the anchor with a short, quick rush; her head swings round to
+meet the tide; the _White Dove_ is safe from all the winds that blow.
+Now lower away the gig, boys, and bear us over the blue waters of the
+Sound!
+
+"I am really afraid to begin," Mary Avon says, as we remonstrate with
+her for not having touched a colour-tube since she started. "Besides,
+you know, I scarcely look on it that we have really set out yet.  This
+is only a sort of shaking ourselves into our places; I am only getting
+accustomed to the ways of our cabin now.  I shall scarcely consider that
+we have started on our real voyaging until——"
+
+Oh, yes, we know very well.  Until we have got Angus Sutherland on
+board.  But what she really said was, after slight hesitation:
+
+"——until we set out for the Northern Hebrides."
+
+"Ay, it’s a good thing to feel nervous about beginning," says the Laird,
+as the long sweep of the four oars brings us nearer and nearer to the
+Iona shores.  "I have often heard Tom Galbraith say that to the younger
+men.  He says if a young man is over confident, he’ll come to nothing.
+But there was a good one I once heard Galbraith tell about a young man
+that was pentin at Tarbert—that’s Tarbert on Loch Fyne, Miss Avon.  Ay,
+well, he was pentin away, and he was putting in the young lass of the
+house as a fisher-lass; and he asked her if she could not get a creel to
+strap on her back, as a background for her head, ye know.  Well, says
+she——"
+
+Here the fierce humour of the story began to bubble up in the Laird’s
+blue-grey eyes. We were all half laughing already.  It was impossible to
+resist the glow of delight on the Laird’s face.
+
+"Says she—just as pat as ninepence—says she, ’it’s your ain head that
+wants a creel!’"
+
+The explosion was inevitable.  The roar of laughter at this good one was
+so infectious that a subdued smile played over the rugged features of
+John of Skye.  "_It’s your ain head that wants a creel:_" the Laird
+laughed, and laughed again, until the last desperately suppressed sounds
+were something like _kee! kee! kee!_  Even Mary Avon pretended to
+understand.
+
+"There was a real good one," says he, obviously overjoyed to have so
+appreciative an audience, "that I mind of reading in the Dean’s
+_Reminiscences_.  It was about an old leddy in Edinburgh who met in a
+shop a young officer she had seen before.  He was a tall young man, and
+she eyed him from head to heel, and says she—ha! ha!—says she, ’_Od,
+ye’re a lang lad: God gie ye grace._’  Dry—very dry—wasn’t it?  There
+was real humour in that—a pawky humour that people in the South cannot
+understand at all.  ’_Od_’, says she, ’_ye’re a lang lad: God grant ye
+grace._’  There was a great dale of character in that."
+
+We were sure of it; but still we preferred the Laird’s stories about
+Homesh.  We invariably liked best the stories at which the Laird laughed
+most—whether we quite understood their pawky humour or not.
+
+"Dr. Sutherland has a great many stories about the Highlanders," says
+Miss Avon timidly; "they are very amusing."
+
+"As far as I have observed," remarked the Laird—for how could he relish
+the notion of having a rival anecdote-monger on board?—"as far as I have
+observed, the Highland character is entirely without humour.  Ay, I have
+heard Tom Galbraith say that very often, and he has been everywhere in
+the Highlands."
+
+"Well, then," says Mary Avon, with a quick warmth of indignation in her
+face—how rapidly those soft dark eyes could change their expression!—"I
+hope Mr. Galbraith knows more about painting than he knows about the
+Highlanders!  I thought that anybody who knows anything knows that the
+Celtic nature is full of imagination, and humour, and pathos, and
+poetry; and the Saxon—the Saxon!—it is his business to plod over
+ploughed fields, and be as dull and commonplace as the other animals he
+sees there!"
+
+Gracious goodness!—here was a tempest! The Laird was speechless; for,
+indeed, at this moment we bumped against the sacred shores—that is to
+say, the landing-slip—of Iona; and had to scramble on to the big stones.
+Then we walked up and past the cottages, and through the potato-field,
+and past the white inn, and so to the hallowed shrine and its graves of
+the kings.  We spent the whole of the afternoon there.
+
+When we got back to the yacht and to dinner we discovered that a friend
+had visited us in our absence, and had left of his largesse behind
+him—nasturtiums and yellow-and-white pansies, and what not—to say
+nothing of fresh milk, and crisp, delightful lettuce.  We drank his
+health.
+
+Was it the fear of some one breaking in on our domestic peace that made
+that last evening among the western islands so lovely to us?  We went
+out in the gig after dinner; the Laird put forth his engines of
+destruction to encompass the innocent lythe; we heard him humming the
+"Haughs o’ Cromdale" in the silence.  The wonderful glory of that
+evening!—Iona become an intense olive-green against the gold and crimson
+of the sunset; the warm light shining along the red granite of western
+Mull.  Then the yellow moon rose in the south—into the calm violet-hued
+vault of the heavens; and there was a golden fire on the ripples and on
+the wet blades of the oars as we rowed back with laughter and singing.
+
+_Sing tantara! sing tantara!_
+_Sing tantara! sing tantara!_
+  _Said he, the Highland army rues_
+  _That ere they came to Cromdale!_
+
+
+And then, next morning, we were up at five o’clock.  If we were going to
+have a tooth pulled, why not have the little interview over at once?
+East Wind would be waiting for us at Castle Osprey.
+
+Blow, soft westerly breeze, then, and bear us down by Fion-phort, and
+round the granite Ross—shining all a pale red in the early dawn. And
+here is Ardalanish Point; and there, as the morning goes by, are the
+Carsaig arches, and then Loch Buy, and finally the blue Firth of Lorn.
+Northward now, and still northward—until, far away, the white house
+shining amidst the firs, and the flag fluttering in the summer air.
+Have they descried us, then? Or is the bunting hoisted in honour of
+guests? The pale cheek of Mary Avon tells a tale as she descries that
+far signal; but that is no business of ours.  Perhaps it is only of her
+uncle that she is thinking.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER VI.*
+
+                           *OUR NEW GUESTS.*
+
+
+Behold, now!—this beautiful garden of Castle Osprey all ablaze in the
+sun—the roses, pansies, poppies, and what not bewildering our eyes after
+the long looking at the blue water and, in the midst of the brilliant
+paradise—just as we had feared—the snake!  He did not scurry away at our
+approach, as snakes are wont to do; or raise his horrent head, and hiss.
+The fact is, we found him comfortably seated under a drooping ash,
+smoking.  He rose and explained that he had strolled up from the shore
+to await our coming.  He did not seem to notice that Mary Avon, as she
+came along, had to walk slowly, and was leaning on the arm of the Laird.
+
+Certainly nature had not been bountiful to this short, spare person who
+had now come among us.  He had closely-cropped, coarse grey hair; an
+eagle beak; a certain pink and raw appearance of the face, as if
+perpetual east winds had chafed the skin; and a most pernicious habit of
+loudly clearing his husky throat. Then with the aggressive nose went a
+well-defined pugilist’s jaw and a general hang-dog scowl about the
+mouth.  For the rest Mr. Smethurst seemed desirous of making up for
+those unpleasant features which nature had bestowed upon him by a
+studied air of self-possession, and by an extreme precision of dress.
+Alack, and well-a-day! these laudable efforts were of little avail.
+Nature was too strong for him.  The assumption of a languid air was not
+quite in consonance with the ferrety grey eyes and the bull-dog mouth;
+the precision of his costume only gave him the look of a well-dressed
+groom, or a butler gone on the turf.  There was not much grateful to the
+sight about Mr. Frederick Smethurst.
+
+But were we to hate the man for being ugly? Despite his raw face, he
+might have the white soul of an angel.  And in fact we knew absolutely
+nothing against his public character or private reputation, except that
+he had once gone through the Bankruptcy Court; and even of that little
+circumstance our womenfolk were not aware.  However, there was no doubt
+at all that a certain coldness—apparent to us who knew her well—marked
+the manner of this small lady who now went up and shook hands with him,
+and declared—unblushingly—that she was so glad he had run up to the
+Highlands.
+
+"And you know," said she, with that charming politeness which she would
+show to the arch-fiend himself if he were properly introduced to her,
+"you know, Mr. Smethurst, that yachting is such an uncertain thing, one
+never knows when one may get back; but if you could spare a few days to
+take a run with us, you would see what a capital mariner Mary has
+become, and I am sure it would be a great pleasure to us."
+
+These were actually her words.  She uttered them without the least
+tremor of hesitation. She looked him straight in the face with those
+clear, innocent, confiding eyes of hers.  How could the man tell that
+she was wishing him at Jericho?
+
+And it was in silence that we waited to hear our doom pronounced.  A
+yachting trip with this intolerable Jonah on board! The sunlight went
+out of the day; the blue went out of the sky and the seas; the world was
+filled with gloom, and chaos, and East Wind!
+
+Imagine, then, the sudden joy with which we heard of our deliverance!
+Surely it was not the raucous voice of Frederick Smethurst, but a sound
+of summer bells.
+
+"Oh, thank you," he said, in his affectedly indifferent way; "but the
+fact is, I have run up to see Mary only on a little matter of business,
+and I must get back at once.  Indeed, I purpose leaving by the Dalmally
+coach in the afternoon.  Thank you very much, though; perhaps some other
+time I may be more fortunate."
+
+How we had wronged this poor man!  We hated him no longer.  On the
+contrary, great grief was expressed over his departure; and he was
+begged at least to stay that one evening.  No doubt he had heard of Dr.
+Angus Sutherland, who had made such discoveries in the use of
+anæsthetics? Dr. Sutherland was coming by the afternoon steamer.  Would
+not he stay and meet him at dinner?
+
+Our tears broke out afresh—metaphorically—when East Wind persisted in
+his intention of departure; but of course compulsion was out of the
+question.  And so we allowed him to go into the house, to have that
+business interview with his niece.
+
+"A poor crayture!" remarked the Laird confidently, forgetting that he
+was talking of a friend of ours.  "Why does he not speak out like a man,
+instead of drawling and dawdling? His accent is jist insufferable."
+
+"And what business can he have with Mary?" says our sovereign lady
+sharply—just as if a man with a raw skin and an eagle-beak must
+necessarily be a pickpocket. "He was the trustee of that little fortune
+of hers, I know; but that is all over.  She got the money when she came
+of age.  What can he want to see her about now?"
+
+We concerned ourselves not with that.  It was enough for us that the
+snake was about to retreat from our summer paradise of his own free will
+and pleasure.  And Angus Sutherland was coming; and the provisioning of
+the yacht had to be seen to; for to-morrow—to-morrow we spread our white
+wings again and take flight to the far north!
+
+Never was parting guest so warmly speeded. We concealed our tears as the
+coach rolled away.  We waved a hand to him.  And then, when it was
+suggested that the wagonette that had brought Mary Avon down from Castle
+Osprey might just as well go along to the quay—for the steamer bringing
+Dr. Sutherland would be in shortly—and when we actually did set out in
+that direction, there was so little grief on our faces that you could
+not have told we had been bidding farewell to a valued friend and
+relative.
+
+Now if our good-hearted Laird had had a grain of jealousy in his nature,
+he might well have resented the manner in which these two women spoke of
+the approaching guest.  In their talk the word "he" meant only one
+person.  "He" was sure to come by this steamer.  "He" was so punctual in
+his engagements.  Would he bring a gun or a rod; or would the sailing be
+enough amusement for him?  What a capital thing it was for him to be
+able to take an interest in some such out-of-door exercise, as a
+distraction to the mind! And so forth, and so forth.  The Laird heard
+all this, and his expectations were no doubt rising and rising.
+Forgetful of his disappointment on first seeing Mary Avon, he was in all
+likelihood creating an imaginary figure of Angus Sutherland—and, of
+course, this marvel of erudition and intellectual power must be a tall,
+wan, pale person, with the travail of thinking written in lines across
+the spacious brow.  The Laird was not aware that for many a day after we
+first made the acquaintance of the young Scotch student he was generally
+referred to in our private conversation as "Brose."
+
+And, indeed, the Laird did stare considerably when he saw—elbowing his
+way through the crowd and making for us with a laugh of welcome on the
+fresh-coloured face—a stout-set, muscular, blue-eyed, sandy-haired,
+good-humoured-looking, youngish man; who, instead of having anything
+Celtic about his appearance, might have been taken for the son of a
+south-country farmer.  Our young Doctor was carrying his own
+portmanteau, and sturdily shoving his way through the porters who would
+fain have seized it.
+
+"I am glad to see you, Angus," said our queen regent, holding out her
+hand; and there was no ceremonial politeness in that reception—but you
+should have seen the look in her eyes.
+
+Then he went on to the waggonette.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Avon?" said he, quite timidly, like a school-boy.
+He scarcely glanced up at her face, which was regarding him with a very
+pleasant welcome; he seemed relieved when he had to turn and seize his
+portmanteau again.  Knowing that he was rather fond of driving, our
+mistress and admiral-in-chief offered him the reins, but he declined the
+honour; Mary Avon was sitting in front.  "Oh, no, thank you," said he
+quite hastily, and with something uncommonly like a blush.  The Laird,
+if he had been entertaining any feeling of jealousy, must have been
+reassured.  This Doctor-fellow was no formidable rival.  He spoke very
+little—he only listened—as we drove away to Castle Osprey.  Mary Avon
+was chatting briskly and cheerfully, and it was to the Laird that she
+addressed that running fire of nonsense and merry laughter.
+
+But the young Doctor was greatly concerned when, on our arrival at
+Castle Osprey, he saw Mary Avon helped down with much care, and heard
+the story of the sprain.
+
+"Who bandages your ankle?" said he at once, and without any shyness now.
+
+"I do it myself," said she cheerfully.  "I can do it well enough."
+
+"Oh, no, you cannot!" said he abruptly; "a person stooping cannot.  The
+bandage should be as tight, and as smooth, as the skin of a drum.  You
+must let some one else do that for you."
+
+And he was disposed to resent this walking about in the garden before
+dinner.  What business had she to trifle with such a serious matter as a
+sprain?  And a sprain which was the recall of an older sprain.  "Did she
+wish to be lame for life?" he asked sharply.
+
+Mary Avon laughed, and said that worse things than that had befallen
+people.  He asked her whether she found any pleasure in voluntary
+martyrdom; she blushed a little, and turned to the Laird.
+
+The Laird was at this moment laying before us the details of a most
+gigantic scheme.  It appeared that the inhabitants of Strathgovan, not
+content with a steam fire-engine, were talking about having a public
+park—actually proposing to have a public park, with beds of flowers, and
+iron seats; and, to crown all, a gymnasium, where the youths of the
+neighbourhood might twirl themselves on the gay trapeze to their hearts’
+content.  And where the subscriptions were to come from; and what were
+the hardiest plants for borders; and whether the gymnasium should be
+furnished with ropes or with chains—these matters were weighing heavily
+on the mind of our good friend of Denny-mains.  Angus Sutherland
+relapsed into silence, and gazed absently at a tree-fuchsia that stood
+by.
+
+"It is a beautiful tree, is it not?" said a voice beside him—that of our
+midge-like empress.
+
+He started.
+
+"Oh, yes," he said cheerfully.  "I was thinking I should like to live
+the life of a tree like that, dying in the winter, you know, and being
+quite impervious to frost, and snow, and hard weather; and then, as soon
+as the fine warm spring and summer came round, coming to life again and
+spreading yourself out to feel all the sunlight and the warm winds. That
+must be a capital life."
+
+"But do you really think they can feel that? Why, you must believe that
+those trees and flowers are alive!"
+
+"Does anybody doubt it?" said he quite simply.  "They are certainly
+alive.  Why——"
+
+And here he bethought himself for a moment.
+
+"If I only had a good microscope now," said he eagerly, "I would show
+you the life of a plant directly—in every cell of it: did you never see
+the constant life in each cell—the motion of the chlorophyll granules
+circling and circling night and day?  Did no one ever show you that?"
+
+Well, no one had ever shown us that.  We may now and again have
+entertained angels unawares; but we were not always stumbling against
+Fellows of the Royal Society.
+
+"Then I must borrow one somewhere," said he decisively, "and show you
+the secret life of even the humblest plant that exists.  And then look
+what a long life it is, in the case of the perennial plants.  Did you
+ever think of that? Those great trees in the Yosemite valley—they were
+alive and feeling the warm sunlight and the winds about them when Alfred
+was hiding in the marshes; and they were living the same undisturbed
+life when Charles the First had his head chopped off; and they were
+living—in peace and quietness—when all Europe had to wake up to stamp
+out the Napoleonic pest; and they are alive now and quite careless of
+the little creatures that come to span out their circumference, and
+ticket them, and give them ridiculous names.  Had any of the patriarchs
+a life as long as that?"
+
+The Laird eyed this young man askance. There was something uncanny about
+him. What might not he say when—in the northern solitudes to which we
+were going—the great Semple heresy-case was brought on for discussion?
+
+But at dinner the Laird got on very well with our new guest; for the
+latter listened most respectfully when Denny-mains was demonstrating the
+exceeding purity, and strength, and fitness of the speech used in the
+south of Scotland.  And indeed the Laird was generous. He admitted that
+there were blemishes.  He deprecated the introduction of French words;
+and gave us a much longer list of those aliens than usually appears in
+books.  What about _conjee_, and _que-vee_, and _fracaw_ as used by
+Scotch children and old wives?
+
+Then after dinner—at nine o’clock the wonderful glow of the summer
+evening was still filling the drawing-room—the Laird must needs have
+Mary Avon sing to him.  It was not a custom of hers.  She rarely would
+sing a song of set purpose.  The linnet sings all day—when you do not
+watch her; but she will not sing if you go and ask.
+
+However, on this occasion, her hostess went to the piano, and sat down
+to play the accompaniment; and Mary Avon stood beside her and sang, in
+rather a low voice—but it was tender enough—some modern version of the
+old ballad of the Queen’s Maries.  What were the words?  These were of
+them, any way:—
+
+_Yestreen the Queen had four Maries;_
+_This night she’ll hae but three:_
+_There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,_
+_And Mary Carmichael, and me._
+
+
+But indeed, if you had seen that graceful slim figure—clad all in black
+velvet, with the broad band of gold fringe round the neck—and the small,
+shapely, smoothly-brushed head above the soft swathes of white
+muslin—and if you had caught a glimpse of the black eyelashes drooping
+outward from the curve of the pale cheek—and if you had heard the
+tender, low voice of Mary Avon, you might have forgotten about the
+Queen’s Maries altogether.
+
+And then Dr. Sutherland: the Laird was determined—in true Scotch
+fashion—that everybody who could not sing should be goaded to sing.
+
+"Oh, well," said the young man, with a laugh, "you know a student in
+Germany must sing whether he can or not.  And I learned there to smash
+out something like an accompaniment also."
+
+And he went to the piano without more ado and did smash out an
+accompaniment.  And if his voice was rather harsh?—well, we should have
+called it raucous in the case of East Wind, but we only called it manly
+and strenuous when it was Angus Sutherland who sang. And it was a manly
+song, too—a fitting song for our last night on shore, the words hailing
+from the green woods of Fuinary, the air an air that had many a time
+been heard among the western seas.  It was the song of the Biorlinn[#]
+that he sang to us; we could hear the brave chorus and the splash of the
+long oars:—
+
+_Send the biorlinn on careering!_
+_Cheerily and all together—_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together—_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+_Give her way and show her wake_
+_’Mid showering spray and curling eddies—_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together—_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+Do we not hear now the measured stroke in the darkness of the morning?
+The water springs from her bows; one by one the headlands are passed.
+But lo! the day is breaking; the dawn will surely bring a breeze with
+it; and then the sail of the gallant craft will bear her over the seas:—
+
+_Another cheer, our Isle appears!_
+_Our biorlinn bears her on the faster—_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together—_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+_Ahead she goes! the land she knows!_
+_Behold! the snowy shores of Canna—_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together—_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+A long, strong pull together indeed: who could resist joining in the
+thunder of the chorus? And we were bound for Canna, too: this was our
+last night on shore.
+
+
+[#] _Biorlinn_—that is, a rowing-boat.  The word is pronounced
+_byurlen_.  The song, which in a measure imitates the rhythm peculiar to
+Highland poetry—consisting in a certain repetition of the same vowel
+sounds—is the production of Dr. Macleod, of Morven.  And here, for the
+benefit of any one who minds such things, is a rough draft of the air,
+arranged by a most charming young lady, who, however, says she would
+much rather die than have her name mentioned:—
+
+[Illustration: Music fragments]
+
+
+Our last night on shore.  In such circumstances one naturally has a
+glance round at the people with whom one is to be brought into such
+close contact for many and many a day. But in this particular case, what
+was the use of speculating, or grumbling, or remonstrating? There is a
+certain household that is ruled with a rod of iron.  And if the mistress
+of that household chose to select as her summer companions a "shilpit
+bit thing," and a hard-headed, ambitious Scotch student, and a parochial
+magnate haunted by a heresy-case, how dared one object?  There is such a
+thing as peace and quietness.
+
+But however unpromising the outlook might be, do we not know the remark
+that is usually made by that hard-worked officer, the chief mate, when,
+on the eve of a voyage, he finds himself confronted by an unusually
+mongrel crew?  He regards those loafers and outcasts—from the Bowery,
+and Ratcliffe Highway, and the Broomielaw—Greeks, niggers, and
+Mexicans—with a critical and perhaps scornful air, and forthwith
+proceeds to address them in the following highly polished manner:—
+
+"By etcetera-etcetera, you are an etceteraed rum-looking lot; but
+etcetera-etcetera me _if I don’t lick you into shape before we get to
+Rio_."
+
+And so—good-night!—and let all good people pray for fair skies and a
+favouring breeze!  And if there is any song to be heard in our dreams,
+let it be the song of the Queen’s Maries—in the low, tender voice of
+Mary Avon:—
+
+_There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,_
+_And Mary Carmichael, and me._
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER VII.*
+
+                              *NORTHWARD.*
+
+
+We have bidden good-bye to the land; the woods and the green hills have
+become pale in the haze of the summer light; we are out here, alone, on
+the shining blue plain.  And if our young Doctor betrays a tendency to
+keep forward—conversing with John of Skye about blocks, and tackle, and
+winches; and if the Laird—whose parental care and regard for Mary Avon
+is becoming beautiful to see—should have quite a monopoly of the young
+lady, and be more bent than ever on amusing her with his "good ones;"
+and if our queen and governor should spend a large portion of her time
+below, in decorating cabins with flowers, in overhauling napery, and in
+earnest consultation with Master Fred about certain culinary mysteries;
+notwithstanding all these divergences of place and occupation, our
+little kingdom afloat is compact enough.  There is always, for example,
+a reassembling at meals. There is an instant community of interest when
+a sudden cry calls all hands on deck to regard some new thing—the
+spouting of a whale or the silvery splashing of a shoal of mackerel.
+But now—but now—if only some cloud-compelling Jove would break this
+insufferably fine weather, and give us a tearing good gale!
+
+It is a strange little kingdom.  It has no postal service.  Shilling
+telegrams are unknown in it; there is no newspaper at breakfast. There
+are no barrel-organs; nor rattling hansoms raising the dust in windy
+streets; there is no afternoon scandal; overheated rooms at midnight are
+a thing of the past.  Serene, independent, self-centred, it minds its
+own affairs; if the whole of Europe were roaring for war, not even an
+echo of the cry would reach us.  We only hear the soft calling of the
+sea-birds as we sit and read, or talk, or smoke; from time to time
+watching the shadows move on the blistering hot decks, or guessing at
+the names of the blue mountains that rise above Loch Etive and Lochaber.
+At the present moment there is a faint summer haze over these mountains;
+as yet we have around us none of the dazzling light and strangely
+intense colours that are peculiar to this part of the world, and that
+are only possible, in fact, in an atmosphere frequently washed clear by
+squalls of rain.  This question of rain turns up at lunch.
+
+"They prayed for rain in the churches last Sunday—so Captain John says,"
+Mary Avon remarks.
+
+"The distilleries are stopped: that’s very serious," continues the
+Laird.
+
+"Well," says Queen T., "people talk about the rain in the West
+Highlands.  It must be true, as everybody says it is true.  But
+now—excepting the year we went to America with Sylvia Balfour—we have
+been here for five years running; and each year we made up our mind for
+a deluge—thinking we had deserved it, you know.  Well, it never came.
+Look at this now."
+
+And the fact was that we were lying motionless on the smooth bosom of
+the Atlantic, with the sun so hot on the decks that we were glad to get
+below.
+
+"Very strange—very strange, indeed," remarked the Laird, with a profound
+air.  "Now what value are we to put on any historical evidence if we
+find such a conflict of testimony about what is at our own doors?  How
+should there be two opeenions about the weather in the West Highlands?
+It is a matter of common experience—dear me!  I never heard the like."
+
+"Oh, but I think we might try to reconcile those diverse opinions!" said
+Angus Sutherland, with an absolute gravity.  "You hear mostly the
+complaints of London people, who make much of a passing shower.  Then
+the tourist and holiday folk, especially from the South, come in the
+autumn, when the fine summer weather has broken.  And then," he added,
+addressing himself with a frank smile to the small creature who had been
+expressing her wonder over the fine weather, "perhaps, if you are
+pleased with your holiday on the whole, you are not anxious to remember
+the wet days; and then you are not afraid of a shower, I know; and
+besides that, when one is yachting, one is more anxious for wind than
+for fine weather."
+
+"Oh, I am sure that is it!" called out Mary Avon quite eagerly.  She did
+not care how she destroyed the Laird’s convictions about the value of
+historical evidence.  "That is an explanation of the whole thing."
+
+At this, our young Doctor—-who had been professing to treat this matter
+seriously merely as a joke—quickly lowered his eyes.  He scarcely ever
+looked Mary Avon in the face when she spoke to him, or when he had to
+speak to her.  And a little bit of shy embarrassment in his manner
+towards her—perceivable only at times—was all the more singular in a man
+who was shrewd and hard-headed enough, who had knocked about the world
+and seen many persons and things, and who had a fair amount of
+unassuming self-confidence, mingled with a vein of sly and reticent
+humour.  He talked freely enough when he was addressing our
+admiral-in-chief. He was not afraid to meet _her_ eyes.  Indeed, they
+were so familiar friends that she called him by his Christian name—a
+practice which in general she detested.  But she would as soon have
+thought of applying "Mr." to one of her own boys at Epsom College as to
+Angus Sutherland.
+
+"Well, you know, Angus," says she pleasantly, "you have definitely
+promised to go up to the Outer Hebrides with us, and back. The longer
+the calms last, the longer we shall have you.  So we shall gladly put up
+with the fine weather."
+
+"It is very kind of you to say so; but I have already had such a long
+holiday——"
+
+"Oh!" said Mary Avon, with her eyes full of wonder and indignation.  She
+was too surprised to say any more.  She only stared at him.  She knew he
+had been working night and day in Edinburgh.
+
+"I mean," said he hastily, and looking down, "I have been away so long
+from London. Indeed, I was getting rather anxious about my next month’s
+number; but luckily, just before I left Edinburgh, a kind friend sent me
+a most valuable paper, so I am quite at ease again.  Would you like to
+read it, sir? It is set up in type."
+
+He took the sheets from his pocket, and handed them to the Laird.
+Denny-mains looked at the title.  It was _On the Radiolarians of the
+Coal Measures_, and it was the production of a well-known professor.
+The Laird handed back the paper without opening it.
+
+"No, thank you," said he, with some dignity. "If I wished to be
+instructed, I would like a safer guide than that man."
+
+We looked with dismay on this dangerous thing that had been brought on
+board: might it not explode and blow up the ship?
+
+"Why," said our Doctor, in unaffected wonder, and entirely mistaking the
+Laird’s exclamation, "he is a perfect master of his subject."
+
+"There is a great deal too much speculation nowadays on these matters,
+and parteecularly among the younger men," remarked the Laird severely.
+And he looked at Angus Sutherland. "I suppose now ye are well acquainted
+with the _Vestiges of Creation_?"
+
+"I have heard of the book," said Brose—regretfully confessing his
+ignorance, "but I never happened to see it."
+
+The Laird’s countenance lightened.
+
+"So much the better—so much the better. A most mischievous and
+unsettling book.  But all the harm it can do is counteracted by a noble
+work—a conclusive work that leaves nothing to be said.  Ye have read the
+_Testimony of the Rocks_, no doubt?"
+
+"Oh, yes, certainly," our Doctor was glad to be able to say; "but—but it
+was a long time ago—when I was a boy, in fact."
+
+"Boy, or man, you’ll get no better book on the history of the earth.  I
+tell ye, sir, I never read a book that placed such firm conviction in my
+mind.  Will ye get any of the new men they are talking about as keen an
+observer and as skilful in arguing as Hugh Miller?  No, no; not one of
+them dares to try to upset the _Testimony of the Rocks_."
+
+Angus Sutherland appealed against this sentence of finality only in a
+very humble way.
+
+"Of course, sir," said he meekly, "you know that science is still moving
+forward——"
+
+"Science?" repeated the Laird.  "Science may be moving forward or moving
+backward; but can it upset the facts of the earth? Science may say what
+it likes; but the facts remain the same."
+
+Now this point was so conclusive that we unanimously hailed the Laird as
+victor.  Our young Doctor submitted with an excellent good humour.  He
+even promised to post that paper on the Radiolarians at the very first
+post-office we might reach: we did not want any such explosive compounds
+on board.
+
+That night we only got as far as Fishnish Bay—a solitary little harbour
+probably down on but few maps; and that we had to reach by getting out
+the gig for a tow.  There was a strange bronze-red in the northern
+skies, long after the sun had set; but in here the shadow of the great
+mountains was on the water.  We could scarcely see the gig; but Angus
+Sutherland had joined the men and was pulling stroke; and along with the
+measured splash of the oars, we heard something about "_Ho, ro,
+clansmen!_"  Then, in the cool night air, there was a slight fragrance
+of peat-smoke; we knew we were getting near the shore.
+
+"He’s a fine fellow, that," says the Laird, generously, of his defeated
+antagonist.  "A fine fellow.  His knowledge of different things is just
+remarkable; and he’s as modest as a girl.  Ay, and he can row, too; a
+while ago when it was lighter, I could see him put his shoulders into
+it.  Ay, he’s a fine, good-natured fellow, and I am glad he has not been
+led astray by that mischievous book, the _Vestiges of Creation_."
+
+Come on board now, boys, and swing up the gig to the davits!  Twelve
+fathoms of chain?—away with her then!—and there is a roar in the silence
+of the lonely little bay. And thereafter silence; and the sweet
+fragrance of the peat in the night air, and the appearance, above the
+black hills, of a clear, shining, golden planet that sends a quivering
+line of light across the water to us.  And, once more, good-night and
+pleasant dreams!
+
+But what is this in the morning?  There have been no pleasant dreams for
+John of Skye and his merry men during the last night; for here we are
+already between Mingary Bay and Ru-na-Gaul Lighthouse; and before us is
+the open Atlantic, blue under the fair skies of the morning.  And here
+is Dr. Sutherland, at the tiller, with a suspiciously negligent look
+about his hair and shirt-collar.
+
+"I have been up since four," says he, with a laugh.  "I heard them
+getting under way, and did not wish to miss anything.  You know these
+places are not so familiar to me as they are to you."
+
+"Is there going to be any wind to-day, John?"
+
+"No mich," says John of Skye, looking at the cloudless blue vault above
+the glassy sweeps of the sea.
+
+Nevertheless, as the morning goes by, we get as much of a breeze as
+enables us to draw away from the mainland—round Ardnamurchan ("the
+headland of the great sea") and out into the open—with Muick Island, and
+the sharp Scuir of Eigg, and the peaks of Rum lying over there on the
+still Atlantic, and far away in the north the vast and spectral
+mountains of Skye.
+
+And now the work of the day begins.  Mary Avon, for mere shame’s sake,
+is at last compelled to produce one of her blank canvases and open her
+box of tubes.  And now it would appear that Angus Sutherland—though
+deprived of the authority of the sick-room—is beginning to lose his fear
+of the English young lady.  He makes himself useful—not with the
+elaborate and patronising courtesy of the Laird, but in a sort of
+submissive, matter-of-fact shifty fashion.  He sheathes the spikes of
+her easel with cork so that they shall not mark the deck.  He rigs up,
+to counterbalance that lack of stability, a piece of cord with a heavy
+weight.  Then, with the easel fixed, he fetches her a deck-chair to sit
+in, and a deck-stool for her colours, and these and her he places under
+the lee of the foresail, to be out of the glare of the sun.  Thus our
+artist is started; she is going to make a sketch of the after-part of
+the yacht with Hector of Moidart at the tiller: beyond, the calm blue
+seas, and a faint promontory of land.
+
+Then the Laird—having confidentially remarked to Miss Avon that Tom
+Galbraith, than whom there is no greater authority living, invariably
+moistens the fresh canvas with megilp before beginning work—has turned
+to the last report of the Semple case.
+
+"No, no," says he to our sovereign lady, who is engaged in some
+mysterious work in wool, "it does not look well for the Presbytery to go
+over every one of the charges in the major proposeetion—supported by the
+averments in the minor—only to find them irrelevant; and then bring home
+to him the part of the libel that deals with tendency.  No, no; that
+shows a lamentable want of purpose.  In view of the great danger to be
+apprehended from these secret assaults on the inspiration of the
+Scriptures, they should have stuck to each charge with tenahcity.  Now,
+I will just show ye where Dr. Carnegie, in defending
+_Secundo_—illustrated as it was with the extracts and averments in the
+minor—let the whole thing slip through his fingers."
+
+But if any one were disposed to be absolutely idle on this calm,
+shining, beautiful day—far away from the cares and labours of the land?
+Out on the taffrail, under shadow of the mizen, there is a seat that is
+gratefully cool.  The Mare of the sea no longer bewilders the eyes; one
+can watch with a lazy enjoyment the teeming life of the open Atlantic.
+The great skarts go whizzing by, long-necked, rapid of flight.  The
+gannets poise in the air, and then there is a sudden dart downwards, and
+a spout of water flashes up where the bird has dived.  The guillemots
+fill the silence with their soft kurrooing—and here they are on all
+sides of us—_Kirroo! Kurroo!_—dipping their bills in the water,
+hastening away from the vessel, and then rising on the surface to flap
+their wings.  But this is a strange thing: they are all in
+pairs—obviously mother and child—and the mother calls _Kurroo!
+Kurroo!_—and the young one unable as yet to dive or swim, answers
+_Pe-yoo-it!  Pe-yoo-it!_ and flutters and paddles after her.  But where
+is the father?  And has the guillemot only one of a family?  Over that
+one, at all events, she exercises a valiant protection.  Even though the
+stem of the yacht seems likely to run both of them down, she will
+neither dive nor fly until she has piloted the young one out of danger.
+
+Then a sudden cry startles the Laird from his heresy-case and Mary Avon
+from her canvas.  A sound far away has turned all eyes to the north;
+though there is nothing visible there, over the shining calm of the sea,
+but a small cloud of white spray that slowly sinks.  In a second or two,
+however, we see another jet of white water arise; and then a great brown
+mass heave slowly over; and then we hear the spouting of the whale.
+
+"What a huge animal!" cries one.  "A hundred feet!"
+
+"Eighty, any way!"
+
+The whale is sheering off to the north: there is less and less chance of
+our forming any correct estimate.
+
+"Oh, I am sure it was a hundred!  Don’t you think so, Angus?" says our
+admiral.
+
+"Well," says the Doctor, slowly—pretending to be very anxious about
+keeping the sails full (when there was no wind)—"you know there is a
+great difference between ’yacht measurement’ and ’registered tonnage.’
+A vessel of fifty registered tons may become eighty or ninety by yacht
+measurement.  And I have often noticed," continues this graceless young
+man, who takes no thought how he is bringing contempt on his elders,
+"that objects seen from the deck of a yacht are naturally subject to
+’yacht measurement.’  I don’t know what the size of that whale may be.
+Its registered tonnage, I suppose, would be the number of Jonahs it
+could carry.  But I should think that if the apparent ’yacht
+measurement’ was a hundred feet, the whale was probably about twenty
+feet long."
+
+It was thus he tried to diminish the marvels of the deep!  But, however
+he might crush us otherwise, we were his masters on one point. The
+Semple heresy-case was too deep even for him.  What could he make of
+"_the first alternative of the general major_"?
+
+And see now, on this calm summer evening, we pass between Muick and
+Eigg; and the sea is like a plain of gold.  As we draw near the sombre
+mass of Rum, the sunset deepens, and a strange lurid mist hangs around
+this remote and mountainous island rising sheer from the Atlantic.
+Gloomy and mysterious are the vast peaks of Haleval and Haskeval; we
+creep under them—favoured by a flood-tide—and the silence of the
+desolate shores seems to spread out from them and to encompass us.
+
+Mary Avon has long ago put away her canvas; she sits and watches; and
+her soft black eyes are full of dreaming as she gazes up at those
+thunder-dark mountains against the rosy haze of the west.
+
+"Haleval and Haskeval?" Angus Sutherland repeats, in reply to his
+hostess; but he starts all the same, for he has been covertly regarding
+the dark and wistful eyes of the girl sitting there.  "Oh, these are
+Norse names.  Scuir na Gillean, on the other hand, is Gaelic—it is _the
+peak of the young men_.  Perhaps, the Norsemen had the north of the
+island, and the Celts the south."
+
+Whether they were named by Scandinavian or by Celt, Haleval and Haskeval
+seemed to overshadow us with their sultry gloom as we slowly glided into
+the lonely loch lying at their base.  We were the only vessel there; and
+we could make out no sign of life on shore, until the glass revealed to
+us one or two half-ruined cottages.  The northern twilight shone in the
+sky far into the night; but neither that clear metallic glow, nor any
+radiance from moon, or planet, or star, seemed to affect the
+thunder-darkness of Haskeval and Haleval’s silent peaks.
+
+There was another tale to tell below—the big saloon aglow with candles;
+the white table-cover with its centre-piece of roses, nasturtiums, and
+ferns; the delayed dinner, or supper, or whatever it might be called,
+all artistically arranged; our young Doctor most humbly solicitous that
+Mary Avon should be comfortably seated, and, in fact, quite usurping the
+office of the Laird in that respect; and then a sudden sound in the
+galley, a hissing as of a thousand squibs, telling us that Master Fred
+had once more and ineffectually tried to suppress the released genie of
+the bottle by jamming down the cork. Forthwith the Laird, with his
+old-fashioned ways, must needs propose a health, which is that of our
+most sovereign and midge-like mistress; and this he does with an
+elaborate and gracious and sonorous courtesy.  And surely there is no
+reason why Mary Avon should not for once break her habit and join in
+that simple ceremony; especially when it is a real live Doctor—and not
+only a Doctor, but an encyclopædia of scientific and all other
+knowledge—who would fain fill her glass? Angus Sutherland timidly but
+seriously pleads; and he does not plead in vain; and you would think
+from his look that she had conferred an extraordinary favour on him.
+Then we—we propose a health too—the health of the FOUR WINDS! and we do
+not care which of them it is who is coming to-morrow, so long as he or
+she comes in force.  Blow, breezes, blow!—from the Coolins of Skye, or
+the shores of Coll, or the glens of Arisaig and Moidart—for to-morrow
+morning we shake out once more the white wings of the _White Dove_, and
+set forth for the loneliness of the northern seas.
+
+
+
+
+                            *CHAPTER VIII.*
+
+                       *PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS.*
+
+
+Now the Laird has a habit—laudable or not—of lingering over an
+additional half-cup at breakfast, as an excuse for desultory talk; and
+thus it is, on this particular morning, the young people having gone on
+deck to see the yacht get under way, that Denny-mains has a chance of
+revealing to us certain secret schemes of his over which he has
+apparently been brooding. How could we have imagined that all this
+plotting and planning had been going on beneath the sedate exterior of
+the Commissioner for the Burgh of Strathgovan?
+
+"She’s just a wonderful bit lass!" he says, confidently, to his hostess;
+"as happy and contented as the day is long; and when she’s not singing
+to herself, her way of speech has a sort of—a sort of music in it that
+is quite new to me.  Yes, I must admit that; I did not know that the
+southern English tongue was so accurate and pleasant to the ear.  Ay,
+but what will become of her?"
+
+What, indeed!  The lady whom he was addressing had often spoken to him
+of Mary Avon’s isolated position in the world.
+
+"It fairly distresses me," continues the good-hearted Laird, "when I
+think of her condeetion—not at present, when she has, if I may be
+allowed to say so, _several_ friends near her who would be glad to do
+what they could for her; but by and by, when she is becoming older——"
+
+The Laird hesitated.  Was it possible, after all, that he was about to
+hint at the chance of Mary Avon becoming the mistress of the mansion and
+estate of Denny-mains?  Then he made a plunge.
+
+"A young woman in her position should have a husband to protect her,
+that is what I am sure of.  Have ye never thought of it, ma’am?"
+
+"I should like very well to see Mary married," says the other, demurely.
+"And I know she would make an excellent wife."
+
+"An excellent wife!" exclaims the Laird; and then he adds, with a tone
+approaching to severity, "I tell ye he will be a fortunate man that gets
+her.  Oh, ay; I have watched her. I can keep my eyes open when there is
+need. Did you hear her asking the captain about his wife and children?
+I tell you there’s _human nature_ in that lass."
+
+There was no need for the Laird to be so pugnacious; we were not
+contesting the point. However, he resumed—
+
+"I have been thinking," said he, with a little more shyness, "about my
+nephew.  He’s a good lad.  Well, ye know, ma’am, that I do not approve
+of young men being brought up in idleness, whatever their prospects must
+be; and I have no doubt whatever that my nephew Howard is working hard
+enough—what with the reading of law-books, and attending the courts, and
+all that—though as yet he has not had much business.  But then there is
+no necessity. I do not think he is a lad of any great ambeetion, like
+your friend Mr. Sutherland, who has to fight his way in the world in any
+case.  But Howard—I have been thinking now that if he was to get married
+and settled, he might give up the law business altogether; and, if they
+were content to live in Scotland, he might look after Denny-mains.  It
+will be his in any case, ye know; he would have the interest of a man
+looking after his own property.  Now, I will tell ye plainly, ma’am,
+what I have been thinking about this day or two back; if Howard would
+marry your young lady friend, that would be agreeable to me."
+
+The calm manner in which the Laird announced his scheme showed that it
+had been well matured.  It was a natural, simple, feasible arrangement,
+by which two persons in whom he took a warm interest would be benefited
+at once.
+
+"But then, sir," said his hostess, with a smile which she could not
+wholly repress, "you know people never do marry to please a third
+person—at least, very seldom."
+
+"Oh, there can be no forcing," said the Laird with decision.  "But I
+have done a great deal for Howard; may I not expect that he will do
+something for me?"
+
+"Oh, doubtless, doubtless," says this amiable lady, who has had some
+experience in match-making herself; "but I have generally found that
+marriages that would be in every way suitable and pleasing to friends,
+and obviously desirable, are precisely the marriages that never come
+off.  Young people, when they are flung at each other’s heads, to use
+the common phrase, never will be sensible and please their relatives.
+Now if you were to bring your nephew here, do you think Mary would fall
+in love with him because she ought?  More likely you would find that,
+out of pure contrariety, she would fall in love with Angus Sutherland,
+who cannot afford to marry, and whose head is filled with other things."
+
+"I am not sure, I am not sure," said the Laird, musingly.  "Howard is a
+good-looking young fellow, and a capital lad, too.  I am not so sure."
+
+"And then, you know," said the other shyly, for she will not plainly say
+anything to Mary’s disparagement, "young men have different tastes in
+their choice of a wife.  He might not have the high opinion of her that
+you have."
+
+At this the Laird gave a look of surprise—even of resentment.
+
+"Then I’ll tell ye what it is, ma’am," said he, almost angrily; "if my
+nephew had the chance of marrying such a girl, and did not do so, I
+should consider him—I should consider him _a fool_, and say so."
+
+And then he added, sharply—
+
+"And do ye think I would let Denny-mains pass into the hands of _a
+fool_?"
+
+Now this kind lady had had no intention of rousing the wrath of the
+Laird in this manner; and she instantly set about pacifying him.  And
+the Laird was easily pacified.  In a minute or two he was laughing
+good-naturedly at himself for getting into a passion; he said it would
+not do for one at his time of life to try to play the part of the stern
+father as they played that in theatre pieces—there was to be no forcing.
+
+"But he’s a good lad, ma’am, a good lad," said he, rising as his hostess
+rose; and he added, significantly, "he is no fool, I assure ye, ma’am;
+he has plenty of common sense."
+
+When we get up on deck again, we find that the _White Dove_ is gently
+gliding out of the lonely Loch Scresorst, with its solitary house among
+the trees, and its crofters’ huts at the base of the sombre hills.  And
+as the light cool breeze—gratefully cool after the blazing heat of the
+last day or two—carries us away northward, we see more and more of the
+awful solitudes of Haleval and Haskeval, that are still thunderous and
+dark under the hazy sky. Above the great shoulders, and under the purple
+peaks, we see the far-reaching corries opening up, with here and there a
+white waterfall just visible in the hollows.  There is a sense of escape
+as we draw away from that overshadowing gloom.
+
+Then we discover that we have a new skipper to-day, _vice_ John of Skye,
+deposed. The fresh hand is Mary Avon, who is at the tiller, and looking
+exceedingly business-like. She has been promoted to this post by Dr.
+Sutherland, who stands by; she receives explanations about the procedure
+of Hector of Moidart, who is up aloft, lacing the smaller topsail to the
+mast; she watches the operations of John of Skye and Sandy, who are at
+the sheets below; and, like a wise and considerate captain, she pretends
+not to notice Master Fred, who is having a quiet smoke by the windlass.
+And so, past those lonely shores sails the brave vessel—the yawl _White
+Dove_, Captain Mary Avon, bound for anywhere.
+
+But you must not imagine that the new skipper is allowed to stand by the
+tiller. Captain though she may be, she has to submit civilly to
+dictation, in so far as her foot is concerned, Our young Doctor has
+compelled her to be seated, and he has passed a rope round the tiller
+that so she can steer from her chair, and from time to time he gives
+suggestions, which she receives as orders.
+
+"I wish I had been with you when you first sprained your foot," he says.
+
+"Yes?" she answers, with humble inquiry in her eyes.
+
+"I would have put it in plaster of Paris," he says, in a matter-of-fact
+way, "and locked you up in the house for a fortnight; at the end of that
+time you would not know which ankle was the sprained one."
+
+There was neither "with your leave" nor "by your leave" in this young
+man’s manner when he spoke of that accident.  He would have taken
+possession of her.  He would have discarded your bandages and hartshorn,
+and what not; when it was Mary Avon’s foot that was concerned—it was
+intimated to us—he would have had his own way in spite of all comers.
+
+"I wish I had known," she says, timidly, meaning that it was the
+treatment she wished she had known.
+
+"There is a more heroic remedy," said he, with a smile; "and that is
+walking the sprain off.  I believe that can be done, but most people
+would shrink from the pain.  Of course, if it were done at all, it would
+be done by a woman; women can bear pain infinitely better than men."
+
+"Oh, do you think so!" she says, in mild protest.  "Oh, I am sure not.
+Men are so much braver than women, so much stronger——"
+
+But this gentle quarrel is suddenly stopped, for some one calls
+attention to a deer that is calmly browsing on one of the high slopes
+above that rocky shore, and instantly all glasses are in request.  It is
+a hind, with a beautifully shaped head and slender legs; she takes no
+notice of the passing craft, but continues her feeding, walking a few
+steps onward from time to time.  In this way she reaches the edge of a
+gully in the rugged cliffs where there is some brushwood, and probably a
+stream; into this she sedately descends, and we see her no more.
+
+Then there is another cry; what is this cloud ahead, or waterspout
+resting on the calm bosom of the sea?  Glasses again in request, amid
+many exclamations, reveal to us that this is a dense cloud of birds; a
+flock so vast that towards the water it seems black; can it be the dead
+body of a whale that has collected this world of wings from all the
+Northern seas?  Hurry on, _White Dove_; for the floating cloud with the
+black base is moving and seething—in fantastic white fumes, as it
+were—in the loveliness of this summer day. And now, as we draw nearer,
+we can descry that there is no dead body of a whale causing that
+blackness; but only the density of the mass of seafowl.  And nearer and
+nearer as we draw, behold! the great gannets swooping down in such
+numbers that the sea is covered with a mist of waterspouts; and the air
+is filled with innumerable cries; and we do not know what to make of
+this bewildering, fluttering, swimming, screaming mass of terns,
+guillemots, skarts, kittiwakes, razorbills, puffins, and gulls.  But
+they draw away again.  The herring-shoal is moving northward.  The
+murmur of cries becomes more remote, and the seething cloud of the
+sea-birds is slowly dispersing.  When the _White Dove_ sails up to the
+spot at which this phenomenon was first seen, there is nothing visible
+but a scattered assemblage of guillemots—_kurroo! kurroo!_ answered by
+_pe-yoo-it! pe-yoo-it!_—and great gannets—"as big as a sheep," says John
+of Skye—apparently so gorged that they lie on the water within
+stone’s-throw of the yacht, before spreading out their long, snow-white,
+black-tipped wings to bear them away over the sea.
+
+And now, as we are altering our course to the west—far away to our right
+stand the vast Coolins of Skye—we sail along the northern shores of Rum.
+There is no trace of any habitation visible; nothing but the precipitous
+cliffs, and the sandy bays, and the outstanding rocks dotted with rows
+of shining black skarts. When Mary Avon asks why those sandy bays should
+be so red, and why a certain ruddy warmth of colour should shine through
+even the patches of grass, our F.R.S. begins to speak of powdered basalt
+rubbed down from the rocks above.  He would have her begin another
+sketch, but she is too proud of her newly acquired knowledge to forsake
+the tiller.
+
+The wind is now almost dead aft, and we have a good deal of gybing.
+Other people might think that all this gybing was an evidence of bad
+steering on the part of our new skipper; but Angus Sutherland—and we
+cannot contradict an F.R.S.—assures Miss Avon that she is doing
+remarkably well; and, as he stands by to lay hold of the main sheet when
+the boom swings over, we are not in much danger of carrying away either
+port or starboard davits.
+
+"Do you know," says he lightly, "I sometimes think I ought to apply for
+the post of surgeon on board a man-of-war?  That would just suit me——"
+
+"Oh, I hope you will not," she blurts out quite inadvertently; and
+thereafter there is a deep blush on her face.
+
+"I should enjoy it immensely, I know," says he, wholly ignorant of her
+embarrassment, because he is keeping an eye on the sails. "I believe I
+should have more pleasure in life that way than any other——"
+
+"But you do not live for your own pleasure," says she hastily, perhaps
+to cover her confusion.
+
+"I have no one else to live for, any way," says he, with a laugh; and
+then he corrected himself.  "Oh, yes, I have.  My father is a sad
+heretic.  He has fallen away from the standards of his faith; he has set
+up idols—the diplomas and medals I have got from time to time.  He has
+them all arranged in his study, and I have heard that he positively sits
+down before them and worships them. When I sent him the medal from
+Vienna—it was only bronze—he returned to me his Greek Testament, that he
+had interleaved and annotated when he was a student; I believe it was
+his greatest possession."
+
+"And you would give up all that he expects from you to go away and be a
+doctor on board a ship!" says Mary Avon, with some proud emphasis.
+"That would not be my ambition if I were a man, and—and—if I had—if——"
+
+Well, she could not quite say to Brose’s face what she thought of his
+powers and prospects; so she suddenly broke away and said—
+
+"Yes; you would go and do that for your own amusement?  And what would
+the amusement be?  Do you think they would let the doctor interfere with
+the sailing of the ship?"
+
+"Well," said he, laughing, "that is a practical objection.  I don’t
+suppose the captain of a man-of-war or even of a merchant vessel would
+be as accommodating as your John of Skye.  Captain John has his
+compensation when he is relieved; he can go forward, and light his
+pipe."
+
+"Well, I think for _your father’s sake_," says Miss Avon, with decision,
+"you had better put that idea out of your head, once and for all."
+
+Now blow, breezes, blow!  What is the great headland that appears,
+striking out into the wide Atlantic?
+
+_Ahead she goes! the land she knows!_
+_Behold! the snowy shores of Canna!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+
+"Tom Galbraith," the Laird is saying solemnly to his hostess, "has
+assured me that Rum is the most picturesque island on the whole of the
+western coast of Scotland.  That is his deleeberate opinion.  And indeed
+I would not go so far as to say he was wrong.  Arran! They talk about
+Arran!  Just look at those splendid mountains coming sheer down to the
+sea; and the light of the sun on them!  Eh me, what a sunset there will
+be this night!"
+
+"Canna?" says Dr. Sutherland, to his interlocutor, who seems very
+anxious to be instructed.  "Oh, I don’t know.  _Canna_ in Gaelic is
+simply a can; but then _Cana_ is a whale; and the island in the distance
+looks long and flat on the water.  Or it may be from _canach_—that is,
+the moss-cotton; or from _cannach_—that is, the sweet-gale. You see,
+Miss Avon, ignorant people have an ample choice."
+
+Blow! breezes blow! as the yellow light of the afternoon shines over the
+broad Atlantic. Here are the eastern shores of Canna, high and rugged,
+and dark with caves; and there the western shores of Rum, the mighty
+mountains aglow in the evening light.  And this remote and solitary
+little bay, with its green headlands, and its awkward rocks at the
+mouth, and the one house presiding over it amongst that shining
+wilderness of shrubs and flowers? Here is fair shelter for the night.
+
+After dinner, in the lambent twilight, we set out with the gig; and
+there was much preparation of elaborate contrivances for the entrapping
+of fish.  But the Laird’s occult and intricate tackle—the spinning
+minnows, and spoons, and india-rubber sand-eels—proved no competitor for
+the couple of big white flies that Angus Sutherland had busked.  And of
+course Mary Avon had that rod; and when some huge lithe dragged the end
+of the rod fairly under water, and when she cried aloud, "Oh! oh! I
+can’t hold it; he’ll break the rod!" then arose our Doctor’s word of
+command:—
+
+"Haul him in!  Shove out the butt!  No scientific playing with a lithe!
+Well done!—well done!—a five-pounder I’ll bet ten farthings!"
+
+It was not scientific fishing; but we got big fish—which is of more
+importance in the eyes of Master Fred.  And then, as the night fell, we
+set out again for the yacht; and the Doctor pulled stroke; and he sang
+some more verses of the _biorlinn_ song as the blades dashed fire into
+the rushing sea:—
+
+_Proudly o’er the waves we’ll bound her,_
+_As the staghound bounds the heather!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+_Through the eddying tide we’ll guide her,_
+_Round each isle and breezy headland,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+The yellow lamp at the bow of the yacht grew larger and larger; the hull
+of the boat looked black between us and the starlit heavens; as we
+clambered on board there was a golden glow from the saloon skylight. And
+then, during the long and happy evening, amid all the whist-playing and
+other amusements going forward, what about certain timid courtesies and
+an occasional shy glance between those two young people?  Some of us
+began to think that if the Laird’s scheme was to come to anything, it
+was high time that Mr. Howard Smith put in an appearance.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER IX.*
+
+                            *A WILD STUDIO.*
+
+
+There is a fine bustle of preparation next morning—for the gig is
+waiting by the side of the yacht; and Dr. Sutherland is carefully
+getting our artist’s materials into the stern; and the Laird is busy
+with shawls and waterproofs; and Master Fred brings along the
+luncheon-basket.  Our Admiral-in-chief prefers to stay on board; she has
+letters to write; there are enough of us to go and be tossed on the
+Atlantic swell off the great caves of Canna.
+
+And as the men strike their oars in the water and we wave a last adieu,
+the Laird catches a glimpse of our larder at the stern of the yacht.
+Alas! there is but one remaining piece of fresh meat hanging there,
+under the white canvas.
+
+"It reminds me," says he, beginning to laugh already, "of a good one
+that Tom Galbraith told me—a real good one that was.  Tom had a little
+bit yacht that his man and himself sailed when he was painting, ye know;
+and one day they got into a bay where Duncan—that was the man’s name—had
+some friends ashore.  Tom left him in charge of the yacht; and—and—ha!
+ha! ha!—there was a leg of mutton hanging at the stern.  Well, Tom was
+rowed ashore; and painted all day; and came back to the yacht in the
+afternoon. _There was no leg of mutton_!  ’Duncan,’ says he, ’where is
+the leg of mutton?’  Duncan pretended to be vastly surprised.  ’Iss it
+away?’ says he.  ’Away?’ says Tom.  ’Don’t you see it is away?  I want
+to know who took it!’  Duncan looked all round him—at the sea and the
+sky—and then says he—then says he, ’Maybe it wass a dog!’—ha! ha! hee!
+hee! hee!—’maybe it wass a dog,’ says he; and they were half a mile from
+the shore! I never see the canvas at the stern of a yacht without
+thinking o’ Tom Galbraith and the leg of mutton;" and here the Laird
+laughed long and loud again.
+
+"I have heard you speak once or twice about Tom Galbraith," remarked our
+young Doctor, without meaning the least sarcasm; "he is an artist, I
+suppose?"
+
+The Laird stopped laughing.  There was a look of indignant
+wonder—approaching to horror—on his face.  But when he proceeded, with
+some dignity and even resentment, to explain to this ignorant person the
+immense importance of the school that Tom Galbraith had been chiefly
+instrumental in forming; and the high qualities of that artist’s
+personal work; and how the members of the Royal Academy shook in their
+shoes at the mere mention of Tom Galbraith’s name, he became more
+pacified; for Angus Sutherland listened with great respect, and even
+promised to look out for Mr. Galbraith’s work if he passed through
+Edinburgh on his way to the south.
+
+The long, swinging stroke of the men soon took us round the successive
+headlands until we were once more in the open, with the mountains of
+Skye in the north, and, far away at the horizon, a pale line which we
+knew to be North Uist.  And now the green shores of Canna were becoming
+more precipitous; and there was a roaring of the sea along the spurs of
+black rock; and the long Atlantic swell, breaking on the bows of the
+gig, was sending a little more spray over us than was at all desirable.
+Certainly no one who could have seen the Doctor at this moment—with his
+fresh-coloured face dripping with the salt water and shining in the
+sunlight—would have taken him for a hard-worked and anxious student.
+His hard work was pulling stroke-oar, and he certainly put his shoulders
+into it, as the Laird had remarked; and his sole anxiety was about Mary
+Avon’s art-materials.  That young lady shook the water from the two
+blank canvases, and declared it did not matter a bit.
+
+These lonely cliffs!—becoming more grim and awful every moment, as this
+mite of a boat still wrestles with the great waves, and makes its way
+along the coast.  And yet there are tender greens where the pasturage
+appears on the high plateaus; and there is a soft ruddy hue where the
+basalt shines.  The gloom of the picture appears below—in the caves
+washed out of the conglomerate by the heavy seas; in the spurs and
+fantastic pillars and arches of the black rock; and in this leaden-hued
+Atlantic springing high over every obstacle to go roaring and booming
+into the caverns.  And these innumerable white specks on the sparse
+green plateaus and on this high promontory: can they be mushrooms in
+millions?  Suddenly one of the men lifts his oar from the rowlock, and
+rattles it on the gunwale of the gig.  At this sound a cloud rises from
+the black rocks; it spreads; the next moment the air is darkened over
+our heads; and almost before we know what has happened, this vast
+multitude of puffins has wheeled by us, and wheeled again further out to
+sea—a smoke of birds!  And as we watch them, behold! stragglers come
+back—in thousands upon thousands—the air is filled with them—some of
+them swooping so near us that we can see the red parrot-like beak and
+the orange-hued web-feet, and then again the green shelves of grass and
+the pinnacles of rock become dotted with those white specks.  The
+myriads of birds; the black caverns; the arches and spurs of rock; the
+leaden-hued Atlantic bounding and springing in white foam: what says
+Mary Avon to that?  Has she the courage?
+
+"If you can put me ashore?" says she.
+
+"Oh, we will get you ashore, somehow," Dr. Sutherland answers.
+
+But, indeed, the nearer we approach that ugly coast the less we like the
+look of it. Again and again we make for what should be a sheltered bit;
+but long before we can get to land we can see through the plunging sea
+great masses of yellow, which we know to be the barnacled rock; and then
+ahead we find a shore that, in this heavy surf, would make match-wood of
+the gig in three seconds.  Our Doctor, however, will not give in.  If he
+cannot get the gig on to any beach or into any creek, he will land our
+artist somehow.  And at last—and in spite of the remonstrances of John
+of Skye—he insists on having the boat backed in to a projecting mass of
+conglomerate, all yellowed over with small shell-fish, against which the
+sea is beating heavily.  It is an ugly landing-place; we can see the
+yellow rock go sheer down in the clear green sea; and the surf is
+spouting up the side in white jets.  But if she can watch a high wave,
+and put her foot there—and there—will she not find herself directly on a
+plateau of rock at least twelve feet square?
+
+"Back her, John!—back her!—" and therewith the Doctor, watching his
+chance, scrambles out and up to demonstrate the feasibility of the
+thing.  And the easel is handed out to him; and the palette and
+canvases; and finally Mary Avon herself.  Nay, even the Laird will
+adventure, sending on before him the luncheon-basket.
+
+It is a strange studio—this projecting shell-crusted rock, surrounded on
+three sides by the sea, and on the fourth by an impassable cliff. And
+the sounds beneath our feet—there must be some subterranean passage or
+cave into which the sea roars and booms.  But Angus Sutherland rigs up
+the easel rapidly; and arranges the artist’s camp-stool; and sets her
+fairly agoing; then he proposes to leave the Laird in charge of her.  He
+and the humble chronicler of the adventures of these people mean to have
+some further exploration of this wild coast.
+
+But we had hardly gone a quarter of a mile or so—it was hard work
+pulling in this heavy sea—when the experienced eye of Sandy from Islay
+saw that something was wrong.
+
+"What’s that?" he said, staring.
+
+We turned instantly, and strove to look through the mists of spray.
+Where we had left the Laird and Mary Avon there were now visible only
+two mites, apparently not bigger than puffins.  But is not one of the
+puffins gesticulating wildly?
+
+"Round with her, John!" the Doctor calls out.  "They want us—I’m sure."
+
+And away the gig goes again—plunging into the great troughs and then
+swinging up to the giddy crests.  And as we get nearer and nearer, what
+is the meaning of the Laird’s frantic gestures?  We cannot understand
+him; and it is impossible to hear, for the booming of the sea into the
+caves drowns his voice.
+
+"He has lost his hat," says Angus Sutherland; and then, the next second,
+"Where’s the easel?"
+
+Then we understand those wild gestures. Pull away, merry men! for has
+not a squall swept the studio of its movables?  And there, sure enough,
+tossing high and low on the waves, we descry a variety of things—an
+easel, two canvases, a hat, a veil, and what not.  Up with the boat-hook
+to the bow; and gently with those plunges, you eager Hector of Moidart!
+
+"I am so sorry," she says (or rather shrieks), when her dripping
+property is restored to her.
+
+"It was my fault," our Doctor yells; "but I will undertake to fasten
+your easel properly this time"—and therewith he fetches a lump of rock
+that might have moored a man-of-war.
+
+We stay and have luncheon in this gusty and thunderous studio—though
+Mary Avon will scarcely turn from her canvas.  And there is no painting
+of pink geraniums about this young woman’s work.  We see already that
+she has got a thorough grip of this cold, hard coast (the sun is
+obscured now, and the various hues are more sombre than ever); and,
+though she has not had time as yet to try to catch the motion of the
+rolling sea, she has got the colour of it—a leaden-grey, with glints of
+blue and white, and with here and there a sudden splash of deep, rich,
+glassy, bottle green, where some wave for a moment catches, just as it
+gets to the shore, a reflection from the grass plateaus above.  Very
+good, Miss Avon; very good—but we pretend that we are not looking.
+
+Then away we go again, to leave the artist to her work; and we go as
+near as possible—the high sea will not allow us to enter—the vast black
+caverns; and we watch through the clear water for those masses of yellow
+rock. And then the multitudes of white-breasted, red-billed birds
+perched up there—close to the small burrows in the scant grass; they
+jerk their heads about in a watchful way just like the prairie-dogs at
+the mouth of their sandy habitations on the Colorado plains.  And then
+again a hundred or two of them come swooping down from the rocky
+pinnacles and sail over our heads—twinkling bits of colour between the
+grey-green sea and the blue-and-white of the sky.  They resent the
+presence of strangers in this far-home of the sea-birds.
+
+It is a terrible business getting that young lady and her paraphernalia
+back into the gig again; for the sea is still heavy, and, of course,
+additional care has now to be taken of the precious canvas.  But at last
+she, and the Laird, and the luncheon-basket, and everything else have
+been got on board; and away we go for the yacht again, in the now
+clearing afternoon.  As we draw further away from the roar of the caves,
+it is more feasible to talk; and naturally we are all very complimentary
+about Mary Avon’s sketch in oils.
+
+"Ay," says the Laird, "and it wants but one thing; and I am sure I could
+get Tom Galbraith to put that in for you.  A bit of a yacht, ye know, or
+other sailing vessel, put below the cliffs, would give people a notion
+of the height of the cliffs, do ye see?  I am sure I could get Tom
+Galbraith to put that in for ye."
+
+"I hope Miss Avon won’t let Tom Galbraith or anybody else meddle with
+the picture." says Angus Sutherland, with some emphasis. "Why, a yacht!
+Do you think anybody would let a yacht come close to rocks like these!
+As soon as you introduce any making-up like that, the picture is a sham.
+It is the real thing now, as it stands.  Twenty years hence you could
+take up that piece of canvas, and there before you would be the very day
+that you spent here—it would be like finding your old life of twenty
+years before opened up to you with a lightning-flash.  The picture
+is—why I should say it is invaluable, as it stands."
+
+At this somewhat fierce praise, Mary Avon colours a little.  And then
+she says with a gentle hypocrisy—
+
+"Oh, do you really think there is—there is—some likeness to the place?"
+
+"It is the place itself!" says he warmly.
+
+"Because," she says, timidly, and yet with a smile, "one likes to have
+one’s work appreciated, however stupid it may be.  And—and—if you think
+that—would you like to have it?  Because I should be so proud if you
+would take it—only I am ashamed to offer my sketches to anybody——"
+
+"That!" said he, staring at the canvas as if the mines of Golconda were
+suddenly opened to him.  But then he drew back.  "Oh, no," he said; "you
+are very kind—but—but, you know, I cannot.  You would think I had been
+asking for it."
+
+"Well," says Miss Avon, still looking down, "I never was treated like
+this before.  You won’t take it?  You don’t think it is worth putting in
+your portmanteau?"
+
+At this the young Doctor’s face grew very red; but he said boldly—
+
+"Very well, now, if you have been playing fast and loose, you shall be
+punished.  I _will_ take the picture, whether you grudge it me or not.
+And I don’t mean to give it up now."
+
+"Oh," said she, very gently, "if it reminds you of the place, I shall be
+very pleased—and—and it may remind you too that I am not likely to
+forget your kindness to poor Mrs. Thompson."
+
+And so this little matter was amicably settled—though the Laird looked
+with a covetous eye on that rough sketch of the rocks of Canna, and
+regretted that he was not to be allowed to ask Tom Galbraith to put in a
+touch or two. And so back to the yacht, and to dinner in the silver
+clear evening; and how beautiful looked this calm bay of Canna, with its
+glittering waters and green shores, after the grim rocks and the heavy
+Atlantic waves!
+
+That evening we pursued the innocent lithe again—our larder was becoming
+terribly empty—and there was a fine take.  But of more interest to some
+of us than the big fish was the extraordinary wonder of colour in sea
+and sky when the sun had gone down; and there was a wail on the part of
+the Laird that Mary Avon had not her colours with her to put down some
+jotting for further use.  Or if on paper: might not she write down
+something of what she saw; and experiment thereafter?  Well, if any
+artist can make head or tail of words in such a case as this, here they
+are for him—as near as our combined forces of observation could go.
+
+The vast plain of water around us a blaze of salmon-red—with the waves
+(catching the reflection of the zenith) marked in horizontal lines of
+blue.  The great headland of Canna, between us and the western sky, a
+mass of dark, intense olive-green.  The sky over that a pale, clear
+lemon-yellow.  But the great feature of this evening scene was a mass of
+cloud that stretched all across the heavens—a mass of flaming,
+thunderous, orange-red cloud that began in the far pale mists in the
+east, and came across the blue zenith overhead, burning with a splendid
+glory there, and then stretched over to the west, where it narrowed down
+and was lost in the calm, clear gold of the horizon.  The splendour of
+this great cloud was bewildering to the eyes; one turned gratefully to
+the reflection of it in the sultry red of the sea below, broken by the
+blue lines of waves.  Our attention was not wholly given to the fishing
+or the boat on this lambent evening; perhaps that was the reason we ran
+on a rock, and with difficulty got off again.
+
+Then back to the yacht again about eleven o’clock.  What is this
+terrible news from Master Fred, who was sent off with instructions to
+hunt up any stray crofter he might find, and use such persuasions in the
+shape of Gaelic friendliness and English money as would enable us to
+replenish our larder?  What! that he had walked two miles and seen
+nothing eatable or purchasable but an old hen?  Canna is a beautiful
+place; but we begin to think it is time to be off.
+
+On this still night, with the stars coming out, we cannot go below.  We
+sit on deck and listen to the musical whisper along the shore, and watch
+one golden-yellow planet rising over the dusky peaks of Rum, far in the
+east.  And our young Doctor is talking of the pathetic notices that are
+common in the Scotch papers—in the advertisements of deaths.  "_New
+Zealand papers, please copy._"  "_Canadian papers, please copy._"  When
+you see this prayer appended to the announcement of the death of some
+old woman of seventy or seventy-five, do you not know that it is a
+message to loved ones in distant climes, wanderers who may forget but
+who have not been forgotten? They are messages that tell of a scattered
+race—of a race that once filled the glens of these now almost deserted
+islands.  And surely, when some birthday or other time of recollection
+comes round, those far away,
+
+_Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe,_
+
+must surely bethink themselves of the old people left behind—living in
+Glasgow or Greenock now, perhaps—and must bethink themselves too of the
+land where last they saw the bonny red heather, and where last they
+heard the pipes playing the sad _Farewell, MacCruimin_ as the ship stood
+out to sea. They cannot quite forget the scenes of their youth—the rough
+seas and the red heather and the islands; the wild dancing at the
+weddings; the secret meetings in the glen, with Ailasa, or Morag, or
+Mairi, come down from the sheiling, all alone, a shawl round her head to
+shelter her from the rain, her heart fluttering like the heart of a
+timid fawn.  They cannot forget.
+
+And we, too, we are going away; and it may be that we shall never see
+this beautiful bay or the island there again.  But one of us carries
+away with him a talisman for the sudden revival of old memories.  And
+twenty years hence—that was his own phrase—what will Angus
+Sutherland—perhaps a very great and rich person by that time—what will
+he think when he turns to a certain picture, and recalls the long summer
+day when he rowed with Mary Avon round the wild shores of Canna?
+
+
+
+
+                              *CHAPTER X.*
+
+                      *"DUNVEGAN!—OH!  DUNVEGAN!"*
+
+
+Commander Mary Avon sends her orders below: everything to be made snug
+in the cabins, for there is a heavy sea running outside, and the _White
+Dove_ is already under way. Farewell, then, you beautiful blue bay—all
+rippled into silver now with the breeze—and green shores and picturesque
+cliffs!  We should have lingered here another day or two, perhaps, but
+for the report about that one old hen.  We cannot ration passengers and
+crew on one old hen.
+
+And here, as we draw away from Canna, is the vast panorama of the
+sea-world around us once more—the mighty mountain range of Skye shining
+faintly in the northern skies; Haleval and Haskeval still of a gloomy
+purple in the east; and away beyond these leagues of rushing Atlantic
+the clear blue line of North Uist.  Whither are we bound, then, you
+small captain with the pale face and the big, soft, tender black eyes?
+Do you fear a shower of spray that you have strapped that
+tightly-fitting ulster round the graceful small figure?  And are you
+quite sure that you know whether the wind is on the port or starboard
+beam?
+
+"Look! look! look!" she calls, and our F.R.S., who has been busy over
+the charts, jumps to his feet.
+
+Just at the bow of the vessel we see the great shining black thing
+disappear.  What if there had been a collision?
+
+"You cannot call _that_ a porpoise, any way," says she.  "Why, it must
+have been eighty feet long!"
+
+"Yes, yacht measurement," says he.  "But it had a back fin, which is
+suspicious, and it did not blow.  Now," he adds—for we have been looking
+all round for the re-appearance of the huge stranger—"if you want to see
+real whales at work, just look over there, close under Rum.  I should
+say there was a whole shoal of them in the Sound."
+
+And there, sure enough, we see from time to time the white
+spoutings—rising high into the air in the form of the letter V, and
+slowly falling again.  They are too far away for us to hear the sound of
+their blowing, nor can we catch any glimpse, through the best of our
+glasses, of their appearance at the surface. Moreover, the solitary
+stranger that nearly ran against our bows makes no reappearance; he has
+had enough of the wonders of the upper world for a time.
+
+It is a fine sailing morning, and we pay but little attention to the
+fact that the wind, as usual, soon gets to be dead ahead.  So long as
+the breeze blows, and the sun shines, and the white spray flies from the
+bows of the _White Dove_, what care we which harbour is to shelter us
+for the night?  And if we cannot get into any harbour, what then?  We
+carry our own kingdom with us; and we are far from being dependent on
+the one old hen.
+
+But in the midst of much laughing at one of the Laird’s good ones—the
+inexhaustible Homesh was again to the fore—a head appears at the top of
+the companion-way; and there is a respectful silence.  Unseemly mirth
+dies away before the awful dignity of this person.
+
+"Angus," she says, with a serious remonstrance on her face, "do you
+believe what scientific people tell you?"
+
+Angus Sutherland starts, and looks up; he has been deep in a chart of
+Loch Bracadaile.
+
+"Don’t they say that water finds its own level?  Now do you call this
+water finding its own level?"—and as she propounds this conundrum, she
+clings on tightly to the side of the companion, for, in truth, the
+_White Dove_ is curveting a good deal among those great masses of waves.
+
+"Another tumbler broken!" she exclaims. "Now who left that tumbler on
+the table?"
+
+"I know," says Mary Avon.
+
+"Who was it then?" says the occupant of the companion-way; and we begin
+to tremble for the culprit.
+
+"Why, you yourself!"
+
+"Mary Avon, how can you tell such a story!" says the other, with a stern
+face.
+
+"Oh, but that is so," calls out our Doctor, "for I myself saw you bring
+the tumbler out of the ladies’ cabin with water for the flowers."
+
+The universal shout of laughter that overwhelms Madame Dignity is too
+much for her. A certain conscious, lurking smile begins to break through
+the sternness of her face.
+
+"I don’t believe a word of it," she declares, firing a shot as she
+retreats.  "Not a word of it.  You are two conspirators.  To tell such a
+story about a tumbler—-!"
+
+But at this moment a further assault is made on the majesty of this
+imperious small personage.  There is a thunder at the bows; a rattling
+as of pistol-shots on the decks forward; and at the same moment the
+fag-ends of the spray come flying over the after part of the yacht.
+What becomes of one’s dignity when one gets a shower of salt water over
+one’s head and neck?  Go down below, madam!—retreat, retreat,
+discomfited!—go, dry your face and your bonny brown hair—and bother us
+no more with your broken tumbler!
+
+And despite those plunging seas and the occasional showers of spray,
+Mary Avon still clings bravely to the rope that is round the tiller; and
+as we are bearing over for Skye on one long tack, she has no need to
+change her position.  And if from time to time her face gets wet with
+the salt water, is it not quickly dried again in the warm sun and the
+breeze? Sun and salt water and sea-air will soon chase away the pallor
+from that gentle face: cannot one observe already—after only a few days’
+sailing—a touch of sun-brown on her cheeks?
+
+And now we are drawing nearer and nearer to Skye, and before us lies the
+lonely Loch Breatal, just under the splendid Coolins.  See how the vast
+slopes of the mountains appear to come sheer down to the lake; and there
+is a soft, sunny green on them—a beautiful, tender, warm colour that
+befits a summer day.  But far above and beyond those sunny slopes a
+different sight appears.  All the clouds of this fair day have gathered
+round the upper portions of the mountains; and that solitary range of
+black and jagged peaks is dark in shadow, dark as if with the
+expectation of thunder.  The Coolins are not beloved of mariners.  Those
+beautiful sunlit ravines are the secret haunts of hurricanes that
+suddenly come out to strike the unwary yachtsman as with the blow of a
+hammer.  _Stand by, forward, then, lads! About ship!  Down with the
+helm, Captain Avon!_—and behold! we are sailing away from the black
+Coolins, and ahead of us there is only the open sea, and the sunlight
+shining on the far cliffs of Canna.
+
+"When your course is due north," remarks Angus Sutherland, who has
+relieved Mary Avon at the helm, "and when the wind is due north, you get
+a good deal of sailing for your money."
+
+The profound truth of this remark becomes more and more apparent as the
+day passes in a series of long tacks which do not seem to be bringing
+those far headlands of Skye much nearer to us.  And if we are beating in
+this heavy sea all day and night, is there not a chance of one or other
+of our women-folk collapsing?  They are excellent sailors, to be
+sure—but—but—
+
+Dr. Sutherland is consulted.  Dr. Sutherland’s advice is prompt and
+emphatic.  His sole and only precaution against sea-sickness is simple:
+resolute eating and drinking.  Cure for sea-sickness, after it has set
+in, he declares there is none: to prevent it, eat and drink, and let the
+drink be _brut_ champagne.  So our two prisoners are ordered below to
+undergo that punishment.
+
+And, perhaps, it is the _brut_ champagne, or perhaps it is merely the
+snugness of our little luncheon-party that prompts Miss Avon to remark
+on the exceeding selfishness of yachting and to suggest a proposal that
+fairly takes away our breath by its audacity.
+
+"Now," she says, cheerfully, "I could tell you how you could occupy an
+idle day on board a yacht so that you would give a great deal of
+happiness—quite a shock of delight—to a large number of people."
+
+Well, we are all attention.
+
+"At what cost?" says the financier of our party.
+
+"At no cost."
+
+This is still more promising.  Why should not we instantly set about
+making all those people happy?
+
+"All that you have got to do is to get a copy of the _Field_ or of the
+_Times_ or some such paper."
+
+Yes; and how are we to get any such thing? Rum has no post-office.  No
+mail calls at Canna.  Newspapers do not grow on the rocks of Loch
+Bracadaile.
+
+"However, let us suppose that we have the paper."
+
+"Very well.  All you have to do is to sit down and take the
+advertisements, and write to the people, accepting all their offers on
+their own terms.  The man who wants 500*l.* for his shooting in the
+autumn; the man who will sell his steam-yacht for 7,000*l,*; the curate
+who will take in another youth to board at 200*l.* a year; the lady who
+wants to let her country-house during the London season; all the people
+who are anxious to sell things.  You offer to take them all.  If a man
+has a yacht to let on hire, you will pay for new jerseys for the men.
+If a man has a house to be let, you will take all the fixtures at his
+own valuation.  All you have to do is to write two or three hundred
+letters—as an anonymous person, of course—and you make two or three
+hundred people quite delighted for perhaps a whole week!"
+
+The Laird stared at this young lady as if she had gone mad; but there
+was only a look of complacent friendliness on Mary Avon’s face.
+
+"You mean that you write sham letters?" says her hostess.  "You gull
+those unfortunate people into believing that all their wishes are
+realised?"
+
+"But you make them happy!" says Mary Avon, confidently.
+
+"Yes—and the disappointment afterwards!" retorts her friend, almost with
+indignation. "Imagine their disappointment when they find they have been
+duped!  Of course they would write letters and discover that the
+anonymous person had no existence."
+
+"Oh, no!" says Mary Avon, eagerly. "There could be no such great
+disappointment. The happiness would be definite and real for the time.
+The disappointment would only be a slow and gradual thing when they
+found no answer coming to their letter.  You would make them happy for a
+whole week or so by accepting their offer; whereas by not answering
+their letter or letters you would only puzzle them, and the matter would
+drop away into forgetfulness.  Do you not think it would be an excellent
+scheme?"
+
+Come on deck, you people; this girl has got demented.  And behold! as we
+emerge once more into the sunlight and whirling spray and wind, we find
+that we are nearing Skye again on the port tack, and now it is the mouth
+of Loch Bracadaile that we are approaching.  And these pillars of rock,
+outstanding from the cliffs, and worn by the northern seas?
+
+"Why, these must be Macleod’s Maidens!" says Angus Sutherland, unrolling
+one of the charts.
+
+And then he discourses to us of the curious fancies of sailors—passing
+the lonely coasts from year to year—and recognising as old friends, not
+any living thing, but the strange conformations of the rocks—and giving
+to these the names of persons and of animals.  And he thinks there is
+something more weird and striking about these solitary and sea-worn
+rocks fronting the great Atlantic than about any comparatively modern
+Sphinx or Pyramid; until we regard the sunlit pillars, and their fretted
+surface and their sharp shadows, with a sort of morbid imagination; and
+we discover how the sailors have fancied them to be stone women; and we
+see in the largest of them—her head and shoulder tilted over a bit—some
+resemblance to the position of the Venus discovered at Milo.  All this
+is very fine; but suddenly the sea gets darkened over there; a squall
+comes roaring out of Loch Bracadaile; John of Skye orders the boat
+about; and presently we are running free before this puff from the
+north-east.  Alas! alas! we have no sooner got out of the reach of the
+squall than the wind backs to the familiar north, and our laborious
+beating has to be continued as before.
+
+But we are not discontented.  Is it not enough, as the golden and
+glowing afternoon wears on, to listen to the innocent prattle of
+Denny-mains, whose mind has been fired by the sight of those pillars of
+rock.  He tells us a great many remarkable things—about the similarity
+between Gaelic and Irish, and between Welsh and Armorican; and he
+discusses the use of the Druidical stones, as to whether the priests
+followed serpent-worship or devoted those circles to human sacrifice. He
+tells us about the Picts and Scots; about Fingal and Ossian; about the
+doings of Arthur in his kingdom of Strathclyde.  It is a most innocent
+sort of prattle.
+
+"Yes, sir," says our Doctor—quite gravely—though we are not quite sure
+that he is not making fun of our simple-hearted Laird, "there can be no
+doubt that the Aryan race that first swept over Europe spoke a Celtic
+language, more or less akin to Gaelic, and that they were pushed out, by
+successive waves of population, into Brittany, and Wales, and Ireland,
+and the Highlands.  And I often wonder whether it was they themselves
+that modestly call themselves the foreigners or strangers, and affixed
+that name to the land they laid hold of, from Galicia and Gaul to
+Galloway and Galway? The Gaelic word _gall_, a stranger, you find
+everywhere.  Fingal himself is only _Fionn-gall_—the Fair Stranger;
+_Dubh-gall_—that is, the familiar Dugald—or the Black Stranger—is what
+the Islay people call a Lowlander. _Ru-na-Gaul_, that we passed the
+other day—that is the Foreigner’s Point.  I think there can be no doubt
+that the tribes that first brought Aryan civilisation through the west
+of Europe spoke Gaelic or something like Gaelic."
+
+"Ay," said the Laird, doubtfully.  He was not sure of this young man.
+He had heard something about Gaelic being spoken in the Garden of Eden,
+and suspected there might be a joke lying about somewhere.
+
+However, there was no joking about our F.R.S. when he began to tell Mary
+Avon how, if he had time and sufficient interest in such things, he
+would set to work to study the Basque people and their language—that
+strange remnant of the old race who inhabited the west of Europe long
+before Scot, or Briton, or Roman, or Teuton had made his appearance on
+the scene.  Might they not have traditions, or customs, or verbal
+survivals to tell us of their pre-historic forefathers?  The Laird
+seemed quite shocked to hear that his favourite Picts and Scots—and
+Fingal and Arthur and all the rest of them—were mere modern interlopers.
+What of the mysterious race that occupied these islands before the great
+Aryan tide swept over from the East?
+
+Well, this was bad enough; but when the Doctor proceeded to declare his
+conviction that no one had the least foundation for the various
+conjectures about the purposes of those so-called Druidical stones—that
+it was all a matter of guess-work whether as regarded council-halls,
+grave-stones, altars, or serpent-worship—and that it was quite possible
+these stones were erected by the non-Aryan race who inhabited Europe
+before either Gaul or Roman or Teuton came west, the Laird interrupted
+him, triumphantly—
+
+"But," says he, "the very names of those stones show they are of Celtic
+origin—will ye dispute that?  What is the meaning of _Carnac_, that is
+in Brittany—eh?  Ye know Gaelic?"
+
+"Well, I know that much," said Angus, laughing.  "Carnac means simply
+the place of piled stones.  But the Celts may have found the stones
+there, and given them that name."
+
+"I think," says Miss Avon, profoundly, "that when you go into a question
+of names, you can prove anything.  And I suppose Gaelic is as
+accommodating as any other language."
+
+Angus Sutherland did not answer for a moment; but at last he said,
+rather shyly—
+
+"Gaelic is a very complimentary language, at all events.  Beau is ’a
+woman;’ and bean-nachd is ’a blessing.’  _An ti a bheannaich thu_—that
+is, ’the one who blessed you.’"
+
+Very pretty; only we did not know how wildly the young man might not be
+falsifying Gaelic grammar in order to say something nice to Mary Avon.
+
+Patience works wonders.  Dinner-time finds us so far across the Minch
+that we can make out the lighthouse of South Uist.  And all these outer
+Hebrides are now lying in a flood of golden-red light; and on the cliffs
+of Canna, far away in the south-east, and now dwarfed so that they lie
+like a low wall on the sea, there is a paler red, caught from the glare
+of the sunset. And here is the silver tinkle of Master Fred’s bell.
+
+On deck after dinner; and the night air is cooler now; and there are
+cigars about; and our young F.R.S. is at the tiller; and Mary Avon is
+singing, apparently to herself, something about a Berkshire farmer’s
+daughter. The darkness deepens, and the stars come out; and there is one
+star—larger than the rest, and low down, and burning a steady red—that
+we know to be Ushinish lighthouse.  And then from time to time the
+silence is broken by, "_Stand by, forrard!  ’Bout ship!_" and there is a
+rattling of blocks and cordage and then the head-sails fill and away she
+goes again on the other tack.  We have got up to the long headlands of
+Skye at last.
+
+Clear as the night is, the wind still comes in squalls, and we have the
+topsail down.  Into which indentation of that long, low line of dark
+land shall we creep in the darkness?
+
+But John of Skye keeps away from the land. It is past midnight.  There
+is nothing visible but the black sea and the clear sky, and the red star
+of the lighthouse; nothing audible but Mary Avon’s humming to herself
+and her friend—the two women sit arm-in-arm under half-a-dozen of
+rugs—some old-world ballad to the monotonous accompaniment of the
+passing seas.
+
+One o’clock: Ushinish light is smaller now, a minute point of red fire,
+and the black line of land on our right looms larger in the dusk. Look
+at the splendour of the phosphorous-stars on the rushing waves.
+
+And at last John of Skye says in an undertone to Angus—
+
+"Will the leddies be going below now?"
+
+"Going below!" he says in reply.  "They are waiting till we get to
+anchor.  We must be just off Dunvegan Loch now."
+
+Then John of Skye makes his confession.
+
+"Oh, yes; I been into Dunvegan Loch more as two or three times; but I
+not like the dark to be with us in going in; and if we lie off till the
+daylight comes, the leddies they can go below to their peds.  And if Dr.
+Sutherland himself would like to see the channel in going in, will I
+send below when the daylight comes?"
+
+"No, no, John; thank you," is the answer. "When I turn in, I turn in for
+good.  I will leave you to find out the channel for yourself."
+
+And so there is a clearance of the deck, and rugs and camp-stools handed
+down the companion.  _Deoch-an-doruis_ in the candle-lit saloon?  To
+bed—to bed!
+
+It is about five o’clock in the morning that the swinging out of the
+anchor-chain causes the yacht to tremble from stem to stern; and the
+sleepers start in their sleep, but are vaguely aware that they are at a
+safe anchorage at last. And do you know where the brave _White Dove_ is
+lying now?  Surely if the new dawn brings any stirring of wind—and if
+there is a sound coming over to us from this far land of legend and
+romance—it is the wild, sad wail of Dunvegan!  The mists are clearing
+from the hills; the day breaks wan and fair; the great grey castle,
+touched by the early sunlight, looks down on the murmuring sea.  And is
+it the sea, or is it the cold wind of the morning, that sings and sings
+to us in our dreams—
+
+_Dunvegan—oh!  Dunvegan!_
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XI.*
+
+                           *DRAWING NEARER.*
+
+
+She is all alone on deck.  The morning sun shines on the beautiful blue
+bay; on the great castle perched on the rocks over there; and on the
+wooded green hills beyond. She has got a canvas fixed on her easel; she
+sings to herself as she works.
+
+Now this English young lady must have beguiled the tedium of her long
+nursing in Edinburgh by making a particular acquaintance with Scotch
+ballads; or how otherwise could we account for her knowledge of the
+"Song of Ulva," and now of the "Song of Dunvegan?"
+
+_Macleod the faithful, and fearing none!_
+  _Dunvegan—oh!  Dunvegan!_
+
+—she hums to herself as she is busy with this rough sketch of sea and
+shore.  How can she be aware that Angus Sutherland is at this very
+moment in the companion way, and not daring to stir hand or foot lest he
+should disturb her?
+
+_Friends and foes had our passion thwarted,_
+
+she croons to herself, though, indeed, there is no despair at all in her
+voice, but a perfect contentment—
+
+_But true, tender, and lion-hearted,_
+_Lived he on, and from life departed,_
+  _Macleod, whose rival is breathing none!_
+    _Dunvegan—oh, Dunvegan!_
+
+She is pleased with the rapidity of her work. She tries to whistle a
+little bit.  Or, perhaps it is only the fresh morning air that has put
+her in such good spirits?
+
+_Yestreen the Queen had four Maries._
+
+What has that got to do with the sketch of the shining grey castle?
+Among these tags and ends of ballads, the young Doctor at last becomes
+emboldened to put in an appearance.
+
+"Good morning, Miss Avon," says he; "you are busy at work again?"
+
+She is not in the least surprised.  She has got accustomed to his coming
+on deck before the others; they have had a good deal of quiet chatting
+while as yet the Laird was only adjusting his high white collar and
+satin neckcloth.
+
+"It is only a sketch," said she, in a rapid and highly business-like
+fashion, "but I think I shall be able to sell it.  You know most people
+merely value pictures for their association with things they are
+interested in themselves.  A Yorkshire farmer would rather have a
+picture of his favourite cob than any Raphael or Titian.  And the
+ordinary English squire: I am sure that you know in his own heart he
+prefers one of Herring’s farm yard pieces to Leonardo’s _Last Supper_.
+Well, if some yachting gentleman, who has been in this loch, should see
+this sketch, he will probably buy it, however bad it is, just because it
+interests him——"
+
+"But you don’t really mean to sell it?" said he.
+
+"That depends," said she demurely, "on whether I get any offer for it."
+
+"Why," he exclaimed, "the series of pictures you are now making should
+be an invaluable treasure to you all your life long: a permanent record
+of a voyage that you seem to enjoy very much.  I almost shrink from
+robbing you of that one of Canna; still, the temptation is too great.
+And you propose to sell them all?"
+
+"What I can sell of them," she says; and then she adds, rather shyly,
+"You know I could not very well afford to keep them all for myself.  I—I
+have a good many almoners in London; and I devote to them what I can get
+for my scrawls—that is, I deduct the cost of the frames, and keep the
+rest for them.  It is not a large sum."
+
+"Any other woman would spend it in jewellery and dresses," says he
+bluntly.
+
+At this, Miss Mary Avon flushes slightly, and hastily draws his
+attention to a small boat that is approaching.  Dr. Sutherland does not
+pay any heed to the boat.
+
+He is silent for a second or so; and then he says, with an effort to
+talk in a cheerful and matter-of-fact way—
+
+"You have not sent ashore yet this morning: don’t you know there is a
+post-office at Dunvegan?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I heard so.  But the men are below at breakfast, I think, and
+I am in no hurry to send, for there won’t be any letters for me, I
+know."
+
+"Oh, indeed," he says, with seeming carelessness, "it must be a long
+time since you have heard from your friends."
+
+"I have not many friends to hear from," she answers, with a light laugh,
+"and those I have don’t trouble me with many letters.  I suppose they
+think I am in very good hands at present."
+
+"Oh, yes—no doubt," says he, and suddenly he begins to talk in warm
+terms of the delightfulness of the voyage.  He is quite charmed with the
+appearance of Dunvegan Loch and castle.  A more beautiful morning he
+never saw.  And in the midst of all this enthusiasm the small boat comes
+alongside.
+
+There is an old man in the boat, and when he has fastened his oars, he
+says a few words to Angus Sutherland, and hands up a big black bottle.
+Our young Doctor brings the bottle over to Mary Avon.  He seems to be
+very much pleased with everything this morning.
+
+"Now, is not that good-natured?" says he. "It is a bottle of fresh milk,
+with the compliments of ——, of Uginish.  Isn’t it good-natured?"
+
+"Oh, indeed it is," says she, plunging her hand into her pocket.  "You
+must let me give the messenger half-a-crown."
+
+"No, no; that is not the Highland custom," says the Doctor; and
+therewith he goes below, and fetches up another black bottle, and pours
+out a glass of whiskey with his own hand, and presents it to the ancient
+boatman.  You should have seen the look of surprise in the old man’s
+face when Angus Sutherland said something to him in the Gaelic.
+
+And alas! and alas!—as we go ashore on this beautiful bright day, we
+have to give up for ever the old Dunvegan of many a dream—the dark and
+solitary keep that we had imagined perched high above the Atlantic
+breakers—the sheer precipices, the awful sterility, the wail of
+lamentation along the lonely shores.  This is a different picture
+altogether that Mary Avon has been trying to put down on her canvas—a
+spacious, almost modern-looking, but nevertheless picturesque castle,
+sheltered from the winds by softly wooded hills, a bit of smooth, blue
+water below, and further along the shores the cheerful evidences of
+fertility and cultivation.  The wail of Dunvegan?  Why, here is a brisk
+and thriving village, with a post-office, and a shop, and a building
+that looks uncommonly like an inn; and there, dotted all about, and
+encroaching on the upper moorland, any number of those small crofts that
+were once the pride of the Highlands and that gave to England the most
+stalwart of her regiments.  Here are no ruined huts and voiceless
+wastes; but a cheerful, busy picture of peasant-life; the strapping
+wenches at work in the small farm-yards, well-built and frank of face;
+the men well clad; the children well fed and merry enough.  It is a
+scene that delights the heart of our good friend of Denny-mains.  If we
+had but time, he would fain go in among the tiny farms, and inquire
+about the rent of the holdings, and the price paid for those picturesque
+little beasts that the artists are for ever painting—with a louring sky
+beyond, and a dash of sunlight in front.  But our Doctor is obdurate.
+He will not have Mary Avon walk further; she must return to the yacht.
+
+But on our way back, as she is walking by the side of the road, he
+suddenly puts his hand on her arm, apparently to stop her. Slight as the
+touch is, she naturally looks surprised.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he says, hastily, "but I thought you would rather
+not tread on it——"
+
+He is regarding a weed by the wayside—a thing that looks like a
+snapdragon of some sort.  We did not expect to find a hard-headed man of
+science betray this trumpery sentiment about a weed.
+
+"I thought you would rather not tread upon it when you knew it was a
+stranger," he says, in explanation of that rude assault upon her arm.
+"That is not an English plant at all; it is the _Mimulus_, its real home
+is in America."
+
+We began to look with more interest on the audacious small foreigner
+that had boldly adventured across the seas.
+
+"Oh," she says, looking back along the road, "I hope I have not trampled
+any of them down."
+
+"Well, it does not _much_ matter," he admits, "for the plant is becoming
+quite common now in parts of the West Highlands; but I thought as it was
+a stranger, and come all the way across the Atlantic on a voyage of
+discovery, you would be hospitable.  I suppose the Gulf-stream brought
+the first of them over."
+
+"And if they had any choice in the matter," says Mary Avon, looking
+down, and speaking with a little self-conscious deliberation, "and if
+they wanted to be hospitably received, they showed their good sense in
+coming to the West Highlands."
+
+After that there was a dead silence on the part of Angus Sutherland.
+But why should he have been embarrassed?  There was no compliment
+levelled at him that he should blush like a schoolboy.  It was quite
+true that Miss Avon’s liking—even love—for the West Highlands was
+becoming very apparent; but Banffshire is not in the West Highlands.
+What although Angus Sutherland could speak a few words in the Gaelic
+tongue to an old boatman?  He came from Banff.  Banffshire is not in the
+West Highlands.
+
+Then that afternoon at the great castle itself: what have we but a
+confused recollection of twelfth-century towers; and walls nine feet
+thick; and ghost-chambers; and a certain fairy-flag, that is called the
+_Bratach-Sith_; and the wide view over the blue Atlantic; and of a great
+kindness that made itself visible in the way of hothouse flowers and
+baskets of fruit, and what not?  The portraits, too: the various
+centuries got mixed up with the old legends, until we did not know in
+which face to look for some transmitted expression that might tell of
+the Cave of Uig or the Uamh-na-Ceann. But there was one portrait there,
+quite modern, and beautiful, that set all the tourist-folk a raving, so
+lovely were the life-like eyes of it; and the Laird was bold enough to
+say to the gentle lady who was so good as to be our guide, that it would
+be one of the greatest happinesses of his life if he might be allowed to
+ask Mr. Galbraith, the well-known artist of Edinburgh, to select a young
+painter to come up to Dunvegan and make a copy of this picture for him,
+Denny-mains.  And Dr. Sutherland could scarcely come away from that
+beautiful face; and our good Queen T. was quite charmed with it; and as
+for Mary Avon, when one of us regarded her, behold! as she looked up,
+there was a sort of moisture in the soft black eyes.
+
+What was she thinking of?  That it must be a fine thing to be so
+beautiful a woman, and charm the eyes of all men?  But now—now that we
+had had this singing-bird with us on board the yacht for so long a
+time—would any one of us have admitted that she was rather plain?  It
+would not have gone well with any one who had ventured to say so to the
+Laird of Denny-mains, at all events.  And as for our sovereign-lady and
+mistress, these were the lines which she always said described Mary
+Avon:—
+
+    Was never seen thing to be praised derre,[#]
+    Nor under blacke cloud so bright a sterre,
+    As she was, as they saiden, every one
+    That her behelden in her blacke weed;
+    And yet she stood, full low and still, alone,
+    Behind all other folk, in little brede,[#]
+    And nigh the door, ay under shame’s drede;
+    Simple of bearing, debonair of cheer,
+    With a full surë[#] looking and mannere.
+
+[#] _derre_, dearer.
+
+[#] _in little brede_, without display.
+
+[#] _surë_, frank.
+
+
+How smart the saloon of the _White Dove_ looked that evening at dinner,
+with those geraniums, and roses, and fuchsias, and what not, set amid
+the tender green of the maidenhair fern!  But all the same there was a
+serious discussion.  Fruit, flowers, vegetables, and fresh milk, however
+welcome, fill no larder; and Master Fred had returned with the doleful
+tale that all his endeavours to purchase a sheep at one of the
+neighbouring farms had been of no avail.  Forthwith we resolve to make
+another effort.  Far away, on the outer shores of Dunvegan Loch, we can
+faintly descry, in the glow of the evening, some crofter’s huts on the
+slopes of the hill.  Down with the gig, then, boys; in with the
+fishing-rods; and away for the distant shores, where haply, some tender
+ewe-lamb, or brace of quacking duck, or some half-dozen half-starved
+fowls may be withdrawn from the reluctant tiller of the earth!
+
+It is a beautiful clear evening, with lemon-gold glory in the
+north-west.  And our stout-sinewed Doctor is rowing stroke, and there is
+a monotonous refrain of
+
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+
+"We must give you a wage as one of the hands, Angus," says Queen T.
+
+"I am paid already," says he.  "I would work my passage through for the
+sketch of Canna that Miss Avon gave me."
+
+"Would you like to ask the other men whether they would take the same
+payment?" says Miss Avon, in modest depreciation of her powers.
+
+"Do not say anything against the landscape ye gave to Dr. Sutherland,"
+observes the Laird.  "No, no; there is great merit in it. I have told ye
+before I would like to show it to Tom Galbraith before it goes south; I
+am sure he would approve of it.  Indeed, he is jist such a friend of
+mine that I would take the leeberty of asking him to give it a bit touch
+here and there—what an experienced artist would see amiss ye know——"
+
+"Mr. Galbraith may be an experienced artist," says our Doctor friend
+with unnecessary asperity, "but he is not going to touch that picture."
+
+"Ah can tell ye," says the Laird, who is rather hurt by this rejection,
+"that the advice of Tom Galbraith has been taken by the greatest artists
+in England.  He was up in London last year, and was at the studio of one
+of the first of the Acadameecians, and that very man was not ashamed to
+ask the opeenion of Tom Galbraith.  And says Tom to him, ’The face is
+very fine, but the right arm is out of drawing.’  You would think that
+impertinent? The Acadameecian, I can tell you, thought differently.
+Says he, ’That has been my own opeenion, but no one would ever tell me
+so; and I would have left it as it is had ye no spoken.’"
+
+"I have no doubt the Academacian who did not know when his picture was
+out of drawing was quite right to take the advice of Tom Galbraith,"
+says our stroke-oar.  "But Tom Galbraith is not going to touch Miss
+Avon’s sketch of Canna——" and here the fierce altercation is stopped,
+for stroke-oar puts a fresh spurt on, and we hear another sound—
+
+_Soon the freshening breeze will blow._
+_Well show the snowy canvas on her,_
+    _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+  _A long, strong pull together,_
+    _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+
+Well, what was the result of our quest? After we had landed Master Fred,
+and sent him up the hills, and gone off fishing for lithe for an hour or
+so, we returned to the shore in the gathering dusk.  We found our
+messenger seated on a rock, contentedly singing a Gaelic song, and
+plucking a couple of fowls which was all the provender he had secured.
+It was in vain that he tried to cheer us by informing us that the
+animals in question had cost only sixpence a-piece.  We knew that they
+were not much bigger than thrushes. Awful visions of tinned meats began
+to rise before us.  In gloom we took the steward and the microscopic
+fowls on board, and set out for the yacht.
+
+But the Laird did not lose his spirits.  He declared that
+self-preservation was the first law of nature, and that, despite the
+injunctions of the Wild Birds’ Protection Act, he would get out his gun
+and shoot the first brood of "flappers" he saw about those lonely lochs.
+And he told us such a "good one" about Homesh that we laughed nearly all
+the way back to the yacht.  Provisions?  We were independent of
+provisions!  With a handful of rice a day we would cross the Atlantic—we
+would cross twenty Atlantics—so long as we were to be regaled and
+cheered by the "good ones" of our friend of Denny-mains.
+
+Dr. Sutherland, too, seemed in no wise depressed by the famine in the
+land.  In the lamp-lit saloon, as we gathered round the table, and cards
+and things were brought out, and the Laird began to brew his toddy, the
+young Doctor maintained that no one on land could imagine the snugness
+of life on board a yacht.  And now he had almost forgotten to speak of
+leaving us; perhaps it was the posting of the paper on Radiolarians,
+along with other MSS., that had set his mind free.  But touching that
+matter of the Dunvegan post-office: why had he been so particular in
+asking Mary Avon if she were not expecting letters; and why did he so
+suddenly grow enthusiastic about the scenery on learning that the young
+lady, on her travels, was not pestered with correspondence?  Miss Avon
+was not a Cabinet Minister.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XII.*
+
+                     *THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW.*
+
+
+The last instructions given to John of Skye that night were large and
+liberal.  At break of day he was to sail for any port he might chance to
+encounter on the wide seas.  So long as Angus Sutherland did not speak
+of returning, what did it matter to us?—Loch Boisdale, Loch Seaforth,
+Stornaway, St. Kilda, the North Pole were all the same.  It is true that
+of fresh meat we had on board only two fowls about the size of wrens;
+but of all varieties of tinned meats and fruit we had an abundant store.
+And if perchance we were forced to shoot a sheep on the Flannen Islands,
+would not the foul deed be put down to the discredit of those dastardly
+Frenchmen? When you rise up as a nation and guillotine all the
+respectable folk in the country, it is only to be expected of you
+thereafter that you should go about the seas shooting other people’s
+sheep.
+
+And indeed when we get on deck after breakfast, we find that John of
+Skye has fulfilled his instructions to the letter; that is to say, he
+must have started at daybreak to get away so far from Dunvegan and the
+headlands of Skye.  But as for going farther?  There is not a speck of
+cloud in the dome of blue; there is not a ripple on the dazzling sea;
+there is not a breath of wind to stir the great white sails all aglow in
+the sunlight; nor is there even enough of the Atlantic swell to move the
+indolent tiller.  How John of Skye has managed to bring us so far on so
+calm a morning remains a mystery.
+
+"And the glass shows no signs of falling," says our young Doctor quite
+regretfully: does he long for a hurricane, that so he may exhibit his
+sailor-like capacities?
+
+But Mary Avon, with a practical air, is arranging her easel on deck, and
+fixing up a canvas, and getting out the tubes she wants—the while she
+absently sings to herself something about
+
+  _Beauty lies_
+  _In many eyes,_
+_But love in yours, my Nora Creina._
+
+And what will she attack now?  Those long headlands of Skye, dark in
+shadow, with a glow of sunlight along their summits; or those lonely
+hills of Uist set far amid the melancholy main; or those vaster and
+paler mountains of Harris, that rise on the north of the dreaded Sound?
+
+"Well, you _have_ courage," says Angus Sutherland, admiringly, "to try
+to make a picture out of _that_!"
+
+"Oh," she says, modestly, though she is obviously pleased, "that is a
+pet theory of mine.  I try for ordinary every-day effects, without any
+theatrical business; and if I had only the power to reach them, I know I
+should surprise people.  Because you know most people go through the
+world with a sort of mist before their eyes; and they are awfully
+grateful to you when you suddenly clap a pair of spectacles on their
+nose and make them see things as they are.  I cannot do it as yet, you
+know; but there is no harm in trying."
+
+"I think you do it remarkably well," he says; "but what are you to make
+of that?—nothing but two great sheets of blue, with a line of bluer
+hills between?"
+
+But Miss Avon speedily presents us with the desired pair of spectacles.
+Instead of the cloudless blue day we had imagined it to be, we find that
+there are low masses of white cloud along the Skye cliffs, and these
+throw long reflections on the glassy sea, and moreover we begin to
+perceive that the calm vault around us is not an uninterrupted blue, but
+melts into a pale green as it nears the eastern horizon.  Angus
+Sutherland leaves the artist to her work.  He will not interrupt her by
+idle talk.
+
+There is no idle talk going forward where the Laird is concerned.  He
+has got hold of an attentive listener in the person of his hostess, who
+is deep in needlework; and he is expounding to her more clearly than
+ever the merits of the great Semple case, pointing out more particularly
+how the charges in the major proposition are borne out by the extracts
+in the minor.  Yes; and he has caught the critics, too, on the hip.
+What about the discovery of those clever gentlemen that Genesis X. and
+10 was incorrect?  They thought they were exceedingly smart in proving
+that the founders of Babel were the descendants, not of Ham, but of
+Shem.  But when the ruins of Babel were examined, what then?
+
+"Why, it was distinctly shown that the founders were the descendants of
+Ham, after all!" says Denny-mains, triumphantly.  "What do ye think of
+that, Dr. Sutherland?"
+
+Angus Sutherland starts from a reverie: he has not been listening.
+
+"Of what?" he says.  "The Semple case?"
+
+"Ay."
+
+"Oh, well," he says, rather carelessly, "all that wrangling is as good
+an occupation as any other—to keep people from thinking."
+
+The Laird stares, as if he had not heard aright.  Angus Sutherland is
+not aware of having said anything startling.  He continues quite
+innocently—
+
+"Any occupation is valuable enough that diverts the mind—that is why
+hard work is conducive to complete mental health; it does not matter
+whether it is grouse-shooting, or commanding an army, or wrangling about
+major or minor propositions.  If a man were continually to be facing the
+awful mystery of existence—asking the record of the earth and the stars
+how he came to be here, and getting no answer at all—he must inevitably
+go mad. The brain could not stand it.  If the human race had not busied
+itself with wars and commerce, and so forth, it must centuries ago have
+committed suicide.  That is the value of hard work—to keep people from
+thinking of the unknown around them; the more a man is occupied, the
+happier he is—it does not matter whether he occupies himself with School
+Boards, or salmon-fishing, or the prosecution of a heretic."
+
+He did not remark the amazed look on the Laird’s face, nor yet that Mary
+Avon had dropped her painting and was listening.
+
+"The fact is," he said, with a smile, "if you are likely to fall to
+thinking about the real mysteries of existence anywhere, it is among
+solitudes like these, where you see what a trivial little accident human
+life is in the history of the earth.  You can’t think about such things
+in Regent Street; the cigar-shops, the cabs, the passing people occupy
+you.  But here you are brought back as it were to all sorts of first
+principles; and commonplaces appear somehow in their original freshness.
+In Regent Street you no doubt know that life is a strange thing, and
+that death is a strange thing, because you have been told so, and you
+believe it, and think no more about it.  But here—with the seas and
+skies round you, and with the silence of the night making you think, you
+_feel_ the strangeness of these things.  Now just look over there; the
+blue sea, and the blue sky, and the hills—it is a curious thing to think
+that they will be shining there just as they are now—on just such
+another day as this—and you unable to see them or anything else—passed
+away like a ghost.  And the _White Dove_ will be sailing up here; and
+John will be keeping an eye on Ushinish lighthouse; but your eyes won’t
+be able to see anything——"
+
+"Well, Angus, I do declare," exclaims our sovereign mistress, "you have
+chosen a comforting thing to talk about this morning.  Are we to be
+always thinking about our coffin?"
+
+"On the contrary," says the young Doctor; "I was only insisting on the
+wholesomeness of people occupying themselves diligently with some
+distraction or other, however trivial.  And how do you think the Semple
+case will end, sir?"
+
+But our good friend of Denny-mains was far too deeply shocked and
+astounded to reply. The great Semple case a trivial thing—a
+distraction—an occupation to keep people from serious thinking!  The
+public duties, too, of the Commissioner for the Burgh of Strathgovan;
+were these to be regarded as a mere plaything? The new steam fire-engine
+was only a toy, then?  The proposed new park and the addition to the
+rates were to be regarded as a piece of amiable diversion?
+
+The Laird knew that Angus Sutherland had not read the _Vestiges of
+Creation_, and that was a hopeful sign.  But, _Vestiges_ or no
+_Vestiges_, what were the young men of the day coming to if their daring
+speculations led them to regard the most serious and important concerns
+of life as a pastime?  The Commissioners for the Burgh of Strathgoven
+were but a parcel of children, then, playing on the sea-shore, and
+unaware of the awful deeps beyond?
+
+"I am looking at these things only as a doctor," says Dr. Sutherland,
+lightly—seeing that the Laird is too dumbfounded to answer his question,
+"and I sometimes think a doctor’s history of civilisation would be an
+odd thing, if only you could get at the physiological facts of the case.
+I should like to know, for example, what Napoleon had for supper on the
+night before Waterloo.  Something indigestible, you may be sure; if his
+brain had been clear on the 15th, he would have smashed the Allies, and
+altered modern history.  I should have greatly liked, too, to make the
+acquaintance of the man who first announced his belief that infants
+dying unbaptised were to suffer eternal torture: I think it must have
+been his liver.  I should like to have examined him."
+
+"I should like to have poisoned him," says Mary Avon, with a flash of
+anger in the soft eyes.
+
+"Oh, no; the poor wretch was only the victim of some ailment," said our
+Doctor, charitably.  "There must have been something very much the
+matter with Calvin, too.  I know I could have cured Schopenhauer of his
+pessimism if he had let me put him on a wholesome regimen."
+
+The Laird probably did not know who Schopenhauer was; but the audacity
+of the new school was altogether too much for him.
+
+"I—I suppose," he said, stammering in his amazement, "ye would have
+taken Joan of Arc, and treated her as a lunatic?"
+
+"Oh, no; not as a confirmed lunatic," he answered, quite simply.  "But
+the diagnosis of that case is obvious; I think she could have been
+cured.  All that Joanna Southcote wanted was a frank physician."
+
+The Laird rose and went forward to where Mary Avon was standing at her
+easel.  He had had enough.  The criticism of landscape painting was more
+within his compass.
+
+"Very good—very good," says he, as if his whole attention had been
+occupied by her sketching.  "The reflections on the water are just fine.
+Ye must let me show all your sketches to Tom Galbraith before ye go back
+to the south."
+
+"I hear you have been talking about the mysteries of existence," she
+says, with a smile.
+
+"Oh, ay, it is easy to talk," he says, sharply—and not willing to
+confess that he has been driven away from the field.  "I am afraid there
+is an unsettling tendency among the young men of the present day—a want
+of respect for things that have been established by the common sense of
+the world.  Not that I am against all innovation.  No, no.  The world
+cannot stand still.  I myself, now; do ye know that I was among the
+first in Glasgow to hold that it might be permissible to have an organ
+to lead the psalmody of a church?"
+
+"Oh, indeed," says she, with much respect.
+
+"That is true.  No, no; I am not one of the bigoted.  Give me the
+Essentials, and I do not care if ye put a stone cross on the top of the
+church.  I tell ye that honestly; I would not object even to a cross on
+the building if all was sound within."
+
+"I am sure you are quite right, sir," says Mary Avon, gently.
+
+"But no tampering with the Essentials. And as for the millinery, and
+incense, and crucifixes of they poor craytures that have not the courage
+to go right over to Rome—who stop on this side, and play-act at being
+Romans—it is seeckening—perfectly seeckening.  As for the Romans
+themselves, I do not condemn them.  No, no.  If they are in error, I
+doubt not they believe with a good conscience.  And when I am in a
+foreign town, and one o’ their processions of priests and boys comes by,
+I raise my hat.  I do indeed."
+
+"Oh, naturally," says Mary Avon.
+
+"No, no," continues Denny-mains, warmly, "there is none of the bigot
+about me.  There is a minister of the Episcopalian Church that I know;
+and there is no one more welcome in my house: I ask him to say grace
+just as I would a minister of my own Church."
+
+"And which is that, sir?" she asked meekly.
+
+The Laird stares at her.  Is it possible that she has heard him so
+elaborately expound the Semple prosecution, and not be aware to what
+denomination he belongs?
+
+"The Free—the Free Church, of course," he says, with some surprise.
+"Have ye not seen the _Report of Proceedings_ in the Semple case?"
+
+"No, I have not," she answers, timidly. "You have been so kind in
+explaining it that—that a printed report was quite unnecessary."
+
+"But I will get ye one—I will get ye one directly," says he.  "I have
+several copies in my portmanteau.  And ye will see my name in front as
+one of the elders who considered it fit and proper that a full report
+should be published, so as to warn the public against these inseedious
+attacks against our faith.  Don’t interrupt your work, my lass; but I
+will get ye the pamphlet; and whenever you want to sit down for a time,
+ye will find it most interesting reading—most interesting."
+
+And so the worthy Laird goes below to fetch that valued report.  And
+scarcely has he disappeared than a sudden commotion rages over the deck.
+Behold! a breeze coming swiftly over the sea—ruffling the glassy deep as
+it approaches!  Angus Sutherland jumps to the tiller.  The head-sails
+fill; and the boat begins to move.  The lee-sheets are hauled taut; and
+now the great mainsail is filled too.  There is a rippling and hissing
+of water; and a new stir of life and motion throughout the vessel from
+stem to stern.
+
+It seems but the beginning of the day now, though it is near lunch-time.
+Mary Avon puts away her sketch of the dead calm, and sits down just
+under the lee of the boom, where the cool breeze is blowing along.  The
+Laird, having brought up the pamphlet, is vigorously pacing the deck for
+his morning exercise; we have all awakened from these idle reveries
+about the mystery of life.
+
+"Ha, ha," he says, coming aft, "this is fine—this is fine now.  Why not
+give the men a glass of whiskey all round for whistling up such a fine
+breeze?  Do ye think they would object?"
+
+"Better give them a couple of bottles of beer for their dinner,"
+suggests Queen T., who is no lover of whiskey.
+
+But do you think the Laird is to be put off his story by any such
+suggestion?  We can see by his face that he has an anecdote to fire off;
+is it not apparent that his mention of whiskey was made with a purpose?
+
+"There was a real good one," says he—and the laughter is already
+twinkling in his eyes, "about the man that was apologising before his
+family for having been drinking whiskey with some friends.  ’Ay,’ says
+he, ’they just held me and forced it down my throat.’  Then says his
+son—a little chap about ten—says he, ’I think I could ha’ held ye
+mysel’, feyther’—ho! ho! ho!’ says he, ’I think I could ha’ held ye
+mysel’, feyther;’" and the Laird laughed, and laughed again, till the
+tears came into his eyes.  We could see that he was still internally
+laughing at that good one when we went below for luncheon.
+
+At luncheon, too, the Laird quite made up his feud with Angus
+Sutherland, for he had a great many other good ones to tell about
+whiskey and whiskey drinking; and he liked a sympathetic audience.  But
+this general merriment was suddenly dashed by an ominous suggestion
+coming from our young Doctor.  Why, he asked, should we go on fighting
+against these northerly winds?  Why not turn and run before them?
+
+"Then you want to leave us, Angus," said his hostess reproachfully.
+
+"Oh, no," he said, and with some colour in his face.  "I don’t want to
+go, but I fear I must very soon now.  However, I did not make that
+suggestion on my own account; if I were pressed for time, I could get
+somewhere where I could catch the _Clansman_."
+
+Mary Avon looked down, saying nothing.
+
+"You would not leave the ship like that," says his hostess.  "You would
+not run away, surely?  Rather than that we will turn at once. Where are
+we now?"
+
+"If the breeze lasts, we will get over to Uist, to Loch na Maddy, this
+evening, but you must not think of altering your plans on my account.  I
+made the suggestion because of what Captain John was saying."
+
+"Very well," says our Admiral of the Fleet, taking no heed of properly
+constituted authority.  "Suppose we set out on our return voyage
+to-morrow morning, going round the other side of Skye for a change.  But
+you know, Angus, it is not fair of you to run away when you say yourself
+there is nothing particular calls you to London."
+
+"Oh," says he, "I am not going to London just yet.  I am going to Banff,
+to see my father.  There is an uncle of mine, too, on a visit to the
+manse."
+
+"Then you will be coming south again?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then why not come another cruise with us on your way back?"
+
+It was not like this hard-headed young Doctor to appear so embarrassed.
+
+"That is what I should like very much myself," he stammered, "if—if I
+were not in the way of your other arrangements."
+
+"We shall make no other arrangements," says the other definitely.  "Now
+that is a promise, mind.  No drawing back.  Mary will put it down in
+writing, and hold you to it."
+
+Mary Avon had not looked up all this time.
+
+"You should not press Dr. Sutherland too much," she says shyly; "perhaps
+he has other friends he would like to see before leaving Scotland."
+
+The hypocrite!  Did she want to make Angus Sutherland burst a
+blood-vessel in protesting that of all the excursions he had made in his
+life this would be to him for ever the most memorable; and that a
+repetition or extension of it was a delight in the future almost too
+great to think of?  However, she seemed pleased that he spoke so warmly,
+and she did not attempt to contradict him.  If he had really enjoyed all
+this rambling idleness, it would no doubt the better fit him for his
+work in the great capital.
+
+We beat in to Loch na Maddy—that is, the Lake of the Dogs—in the quiet
+evening; and the rather commonplace low-lying hills, and the plain
+houses of the remote little village, looked beautiful enough under the
+glow of the western skies.  And we went ashore, and walked inland for a
+space, through an intricate network of lagoons inbranching from the sea;
+and we saw the trout leaping and making circles on the gold-red pools,
+and watched the herons rising from their fishing and winging their slow
+flight across the silent lakes.
+
+And it was a beautiful night, too, and we had a little singing on deck.
+Perhaps there was an under-current of regret in the knowledge that
+now—for this voyage, at least—we had touched our farthest point.
+To-morrow we were to set out again for the south.
+
+
+
+
+                            *CHAPTER XIII.*
+
+                        *FERDINAND AND MIRANDA.*
+
+
+The wind was laughing at Angus Sutherland. All the time we had been
+sailing north it had blown from the north; how that we turned our faces
+eastward, it wheeled round to the east, as if it would imprison him for
+ever in this floating home.
+
+"_You would fain get away_"—this was the mocking sound that one of us
+seemed to hear in those light airs of the morning that blew along the
+white canvas—"_the world calls; ambition, fame, the eagerness of
+rivalry, the spell that science throws over her disciples, all these are
+powerful, and they draw you, and you would fain get away.  But the hand
+of the wind is uplifted against you; you may fret as you will, but you
+are not round Ru Hunish yet!_"
+
+And perhaps the imaginative small creature who heard these strange
+things in the light breeze against which we were fighting our way across
+the Minch may have been forming her own plans.  Angus Sutherland, she
+used often to say, wanted humanising.  He was too proud and scornful in
+the pride of his knowledge; the gentle hand of a woman was needed to
+lead him into more tractable ways.  And then this Mary Avon, with her
+dexterous, nimble woman’s wit, and her indomitable courage, and her life
+and spirit, and abounding cheerfulness; would she not be a splendid
+companion for him during his long and hard struggle?  This born
+match-maker had long ago thrown away any notion about the Laird
+transferring our singing-bird to Denny-mains.  She had almost forgotten
+about the project of bringing Howard Smith, the Laird’s nephew, and
+half-compelling him to marry Mary Avon: that was preposterous on the
+face of it.  But she had grown accustomed, during those long days of
+tranquil idleness, to see our young Doctor and Mary Avon together, cut
+off from all the distractions of the world, a new Paul and Virginia.
+Why—she may have asked herself—should not these two solitary waifs, thus
+thrown by chance together on the wide ocean of existence, why should
+they not cling to each other and strengthen each other in the coming
+days of trial and storm?  The strange, pathetic, phantasmal farce of
+life is brief; they cannot seize it and hold it, and shape it to their
+own ends; they know not whence it comes, or whither it goes; but while
+the brief, strange thing lasts, they can grasp each other’s hand, and
+make sure—amid all the unknown things around them, the mountains, and
+the wide seas, and the stars—of some common, humble, human sympathy.  It
+is so natural to grasp the hand of another in the presence of something
+vast and unknown.
+
+The rest of us, at all events, have no time for such vague dreams and
+reveries.  There is no idleness on board the _White Dove_ out here on
+the shining deep.  Dr. Sutherland has rigged up for himself a sort of
+gymnasium by putting a rope across the shrouds to the peak halyards; and
+on this rather elastic cross-bar he is taking his morning exercise by
+going through a series of performances, no doubt picked up in Germany.
+Miss Avon is busy with a sketch of the long headland running out to
+Vaternish Point; though, indeed, this smooth Atlantic roll makes it
+difficult for her to keep her feet, and introduces a certain amount of
+haphazard into her handiwork. The Laird has brought on deck a formidable
+portfolio of papers, no doubt relating to the public affairs of
+Strathgovan; and has put on his gold spectacles; and has got his pencil
+in hand.  Master Fred is re-arranging the cabins; the mistress of the
+yacht is looking after her flowers.  And then is heard the voice of John
+of Skye—"_Stand by, boys!_" and "_Bout ship!_" and the helm goes down,
+and the jib and foresail flutter and tear at the blocks and sheets, and
+then the sails gently fill, and the _White Dove_ is away on another
+tack.
+
+"Well, I give in," says Mary Avon, at last, as a heavier lurch than
+usual threatens to throw her and her easel together into the scuppers.
+"It _is_ no use."
+
+"I thought you never gave in, Mary," says our Admiral, whose head has
+appeared again at the top of the companion-stairs.
+
+"I wonder who could paint like this," says Miss Avon, indignantly.  And
+indeed she is trussed up like a fowl, with one arm round one of the gig
+davits.
+
+"Turner was lashed to the mast of a vessel in order to see a storm,"
+says Queen T.
+
+"But not to paint," retorts the other. "Besides, I am not Turner.
+Besides, I am tired."
+
+By this time, of course, Angus Sutherland has come to her help; and
+removes her easel and what not for her; and fetches her a deck-chair.
+
+"Would you like to play chess?" says he.
+
+"Oh, yes," she answers dutifully, "if you think the pieces will stay on
+the board."
+
+"Draughts will be safer," says he, and therewith he plunges below, and
+fetches up the squared board.
+
+And so, on this beautiful summer day, with the shining seas around them,
+and a cool breeze tempering the heat of the sun, Ferdinand and Miranda
+set to work.  And it was a pretty sight to see them—her soft dark eyes
+so full of an anxious care to acquit herself well; his robust, hard,
+fresh-coloured face full of a sort of good-natured forbearance.  But
+nevertheless it was a strange game.  All Scotchmen are supposed to play
+draughts; and one brought up in a manse is almost of necessity a good
+player.  But one astonished onlooker began to perceive that, whereas
+Mary Avon played but indifferently, her opponent played with a blindness
+that was quite remarkable.  She had a very pretty, small, white hand;
+was he looking at that that he did not, on one occasion, see how he
+could have taken three pieces and crowned his man all at one fell swoop?
+And then is it considered incumbent on a draught-player to inform his
+opponent of what would be a better move on the part of the latter?
+However that may be, true it is that, by dint of much advice, opportune
+blindness, and atrocious bad play, the Doctor managed to get the game
+ended in a draw.
+
+"Dear me," said Mary Avon, "I never thought I should have had a chance.
+The Scotch are such good draught-players."
+
+"But you play remarkably well," said he—and there was no blush of shame
+on his face.
+
+Draughts and luncheon carry us on to the afternoon; and still the light
+breeze holds out; and we get nearer and nearer to the most northerly
+points of Skye.  And as the evening draws on, we can now make out the
+hilly line of Ross-shire—a pale rose-colour in the far east; and nearer
+at hand is the Skye coast, with the warm sunlight touching on the ruins
+of Duntulme, where Donald Gorm Mor fed his imprisoned nephew on salt
+beef, and then lowered to him an empty cup—mocking him before he died;
+and then in the west the mountains of Harris, a dark purple against the
+clear lemon-golden glow.  But as night draws on, behold! the wind dies
+away altogether; and we lie becalmed on a lilac-and-silver sea, with
+some rocky islands over there grown into a strange intense green in the
+clear twilight.
+
+Down with the gig, then, John of Skye!—and hurry in all our rods, and
+lines, and the occult entrapping inventions of our patriarch of
+Denny-mains.  We have no scruple about leaving the yacht in mid-ocean,
+in charge of the steward only.  The clear twilight shines in the sky;
+there is not a ripple on the sea; only the long Atlantic swell that we
+can hear breaking far away on the rocks.  And surely such calms are
+infrequent in the Minch; and surely these lonely rocks can have been
+visited but seldom by passing voyagers?
+
+Yet the great rollers—as we near the forbidding shores—break with an
+ominous thunder on the projecting points and reefs.  The Doctor insists
+on getting closer and closer—he knows where the big lithe are likely to
+be found—and the men, although they keep a watchful eye about them,
+obey.  And then—it is Mary Avon who first calls out—and behold!  her rod
+is suddenly dragged down—the point is hauled below the water—agony and
+alarm are on her face.
+
+"Here—take it—take it!" she calls out. "The rod will be broken."
+
+"Not a bit," the Doctor calls out.  "Give him the butt hard!  Never mind
+the rod! Haul away!"
+
+And indeed by this time everybody was alternately calling and hauling;
+and John of Skye, attending to the rods of the two ladies, had scarcely
+time to disengage the big fish, and smooth the flies again; and the
+Laird was declaring that these lithe fight as hard as a twenty-pound
+salmon.  What did we care about those needles and points of black rock
+that every two or three seconds showed their teeth through the breaking
+white surf?
+
+"Keep her close in, boys!" Angus Sutherland cried.  "We shall have a
+fine pickling to-morrow."
+
+Then one fish, stronger or bigger than his fellows, pulls the rod clean
+out of Mary Avon’s hands.
+
+"Well, I have done it this time," she says.
+
+"Not a bit!" her companion cries.  "Up all lines!  Back now,
+lads—gently!"
+
+And as the stern of the boat is shoved over the great glassy billows,
+behold! a thin dark line occasionally visible—the end of the lost rod!
+Then there is a swoop on the part of our Doctor; he has both his hands
+on the butt; there elapses a minute or two of fighting between man and
+fish; and then we can see below the boat the wan gleam of the captured
+animal as it comes to the surface in slow circles.  Hurrah! a
+seven-pounder!  John of Skye chuckles to himself as he grasps the big
+lithe.
+
+"Oh, ay!" he says, "the young leddy knows ferry well when to throw away
+the rod.  It is a gran’ good thing to throw away the rod when there will
+be a big fish.  Ay, ay, it iss a good fish."
+
+But the brutes that fought hardest of all were the dog-fish—the snakes
+of the sea; and there was a sort of holy Archangelic joy on the face of
+John of Skye when he seized a lump of stick to fell these hideous
+creatures before flinging them back into the water again. And yet why
+should they have been killed on account of their snake-like eyes and
+their cruel mouth?  The human race did not rise and extirpate Frederick
+Smethurst because he was ill-favoured.
+
+By half-past ten we had secured a good cargo of fish; and then we set
+out for the yacht.  The clear twilight was still shining above the
+Harris hills; but there was a dusky shadow along the Outer Hebrides,
+where the orange ray of Scalpa light was shining; and there was dusk in
+the south, so that the yacht had become invisible altogether.  It was a
+long pull back; for the _White Dove_ had been carried far by the ebb
+tide.  When we found her, she looked like a tall grey ghost in the
+gathering darkness; and no light had as yet been put up; but all the
+same we had a laughing welcome from Master Fred, who was glad to have
+the fresh fish wherewith to supplement our frugal meals.
+
+Then the next morning—when we got up and looked around—we were in the
+same place!  And the glass would not fall; and the blue skies kept blue;
+and we had to encounter still another day of dreamy idleness.
+
+"The weather is conspiring against you, Angus," our sovereign lady said,
+with a smile. "And you know you cannot run away from the yacht: it would
+be so cowardly to take the steamer."
+
+"Well, indeed," said he, "it is the first time in my life that I have
+found absolute idleness enjoyable; and I am not so very anxious it
+should end.  Somehow, though, I fear we are too well off.  When we get
+back to the region of letters and telegrams, don’t you think we shall
+have to pay for all this selfish happiness?"
+
+"Then why should we go back?" she says lightly.  "Why not make a compact
+to forsake the world altogether, and live all our life on board the
+_White Dove_?"
+
+Somehow, his eyes wandered to Mary Avon; and he said—rather absently—
+
+"I, for one, should like it well enough; if it were only possible."
+
+"No, no," says the Laird, brusquely, "that will no do at all.  It was
+never intended that people should go and live for themselves like that.
+Ye have your duties to the nation and to the laws that protect ye.  When
+I left Denny-mains I told my brother Commissioners that what I could do
+when I was away to further the business of the Burgh I would do; and I
+have entered most minutely into several matters of great importance.
+And that is why I am anxious to get to Portree.  I expect most important
+letters there."
+
+Portree!  Our whereabouts on the chart last night was marked between 45
+and 46 fathoms W.S.W. from some nameless rocks; and here, as far as we
+can make out, we are still between these mystical numbers.  What can we
+do but chat, and read, and play draughts, and twirl round a rope, and
+ascend to the cross-trees to look out for a breeze, and watch and listen
+to the animal-life around us?
+
+"I do think," says Mary Avon to her hostess, "the calling of those
+divers is the softest and most musical sound I ever heard; perhaps
+because it is associated with so many beautiful places.  Just fancy,
+now, if you were suddenly to hear a diver symphony beginning in an
+opera—if all the falsetto recitative and the blare of the trumpets were
+to stop—and if you were to hear the violins and flutes beginning, quite
+low and soft, a diver symphony, would you not think of the Hebrides, and
+the _White Dove_, and the long summer days?  In the winter, you know, in
+London, I fancy we should go once or twice to see _that_ opera!"
+
+"I have never been to an opera," remarks the Laird, quite impervious to
+Mary Avon’s tender enthusiasm.  "I am told it is a fantastic
+exhibeetion."
+
+One incident of that day was the appearance of a new monster of the
+deep, which approached quite close to the hull of the _White Dove_.
+Leaning over the rail we could see him clearly in the clear water—a
+beautiful, golden, submarine insect, with a conical body like that of a
+land-spider, and six or eight slender legs, by the incurving of which he
+slowly propelled himself through the water.  As we were perfectly
+convinced that no one had ever been in such dead calms in the Minch
+before, and had lain for twenty-four hours in the neighbourhood of 45
+and 46, we took it for granted that this was a new animal.  In the
+temporary absence of our F.R.S., the Laird was bold enough to name it
+the _Arachne Mary-Avonensis_; but did not seek to capture it.  It went
+on its golden way.
+
+But we were not to linger for ever in these northern seas, surrounded by
+perpetual summer calms—however beautiful the prospect might be to a
+young man fallen away, for the moment, from his high ambitions.
+Whatever summons from the far world might be awaiting us at Portree was
+soon to be served upon us.  In the afternoon a slight breeze sprung up
+that gently carried us away past Ru Hunish, and round by Eilean Trodda,
+and down by Altavaig. The grey-green basaltic cliffs of the Skye coast
+were now in shadow; but the strong sunlight beat on the grassy ledges
+above; and there was a distant roar of water along the rocks. This other
+throbbing sound, too: surely that must be some steamer far away on the
+other side of Rona?
+
+The sunset deepened.  Darker and darker grew the shadows in the great
+mountains above us.  We heard the sea along the solitary shores.
+
+The stars came out in the twilight: they seemed clearest just over the
+black mountains. In the silence there was the sound of a waterfall
+somewhere—in among those dark cliffs. Then our side-lights were put up;
+and we sate on deck; and Mary Avon, nestling close to her friend, was
+persuaded to sing for her
+
+_Yestreen the Queen had four Maries_
+
+—just as if she had never heard the song before.  The hours went by;
+Angus Sutherland was talking in a slow, earnest, desultory fashion; and
+surely he must have been conscious that one heart there at least was
+eagerly and silently listening to him.  The dawn was near at hand when
+finally we consented to go below.
+
+What time of the morning was it that we heard John of Skye call out
+"_Six or seven fathoms ’ll do?_"  We knew at least that we had got into
+harbour; and that the first golden glow of the daybreak was streaming
+through the skylights of the saloon.  We had returned from the wilds to
+the claims and the cares of civilisation; if there was any message to
+us, for good or for evil, from the distant world we had left for so
+long, it was now waiting for us on shore.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XIV.*
+
+                            *EVIL TIDINGS.*
+
+
+We had indeed returned to the world: the first thing we saw on entering
+the saloon in the morning was a number of letters—actual letters, that
+had come through a post-office—lying on the breakfast-table.  We stared
+at these strange things.  Our good Queen T. was the first to approach
+them.  She took them up as if she expected they would bite her.
+
+"Oh, Mary," she says, "there is not one for you—not one."
+
+Angus Sutherland glanced quickly at the girl.  But there was not the
+least trace of disappointment on her face.  On the contrary, she said,
+with a cheerful indifference—
+
+"So much the better.  They only bother people."
+
+But of course they had to be opened and read—even the bulky parcel from
+Strathgovan. The only bit of intelligence that came from that quarter
+was to the effect that Tom Galbraith had been jilted by his lady-love;
+but as the rumour, it appeared, was in circulation among the Glasgow
+artists, the Laird instantly and indignantly refused to believe it.
+Envy is the meanest of the passions; and we knew that the Glasgow
+artists could scarcely sleep in their bed at night for thinking of the
+great fame of Mr. Galbraith of Edinburgh.  However, amid all these
+letters one of us stumbled upon one little item that certainly concerned
+us.  It was a clipping from the advertisement column of a newspaper.  It
+was inclosed, without word or comment, by a friend in London who knew
+that we were slightly acquainted, perforce, with Mr. Frederick
+Smethurst.  And it appeared that that gentleman, having got into
+difficulties with his creditors, had taken himself off, in a
+surreptitious and evil manner, insomuch that this newspaper clipping was
+nothing more nor less than a hue and cry after the fraudulent bankrupt.
+That letter and its startling inclosure were quickly whipped into the
+pocket of the lady to whom they had been sent.
+
+By great good luck Mary Avon was the first to go on deck.  She was
+anxious to see this new harbour into which we had got.  And then, with
+considerable dismay on her face, our sovereign mistress showed us this
+ugly thing. She was much excited.  It was so shameful of him to bring
+this disgrace on Mary Avon! What would the poor girl say?  And this
+gentle lady would not for worlds have her told while she was with
+us—until at least we got back to some more definite channel of
+information.  She was, indeed, greatly distressed.
+
+But we had to order her to dismiss these idle troubles.  We formed
+ourselves into a committee on the spot; and this committee unanimously,
+if somewhat prematurely, and recklessly, resolved—
+
+First, that it was not of the slightest consequence to us or any human
+creature where Mr. Frederick Smethurst was, or what he might do with
+himself.
+
+Secondly, that if Mr. Frederick Smethurst were to put a string and a
+stone round his neck and betake himself to the bottom of the sea, he
+would earn our gratitude and in some measure atone for his previous
+conduct.
+
+Thirdly, that nothing at all about the matter should be said to Mary
+Avon: if the man had escaped, there might probably be an end of the
+whole business.
+
+To these resolutions, carried swiftly and unanimously, Angus Sutherland
+added a sort of desultory rider, to the effect that moral or immoral
+qualities do sometimes reveal themselves in the face.  He was also of
+opinion that spare persons were more easy of detection in this manner.
+He gave an instance of a well-known character in London—a most promising
+ruffian who had run through the whole gamut of discreditable offences.
+Why was there no record of this brave career written in the man’s face?
+Because nature had obliterated the lines in fat.  When a man attains to
+the dimensions and appearance of a scrofulous toad swollen to the size
+of an ox, moral and mental traces get rubbed out.  Therefore, contended
+our F.R.S., all persons who set out on a career of villany, and don’t
+want to be found out, should eat fat-producing foods. Potatoes and sugar
+he especially mentioned as being calculated to conceal crime.
+
+However, we had to banish Frederick Smethurst and his evil deeds from
+our minds; for the yacht from end to end was in a bustle of commotion
+about our going ashore; and as for us—why, we meant to run riot in all
+the wonders and delights of civilisation.  Innumerable fowls, tons of
+potatoes and cabbage and lettuce, fresh butter, new loaves, new milk:
+there was no end to the visions that rose before the excited brain of
+our chief commissariat officer.  And when the Laird, in the act of
+stepping, with much dignity, into the gig, expressed his firm conviction
+that somewhere or other we should stumble upon a Glasgow newspaper not
+more than a week old, so that he might show us the reports of the
+meetings of the Strathgovan Commissioners, we knew of no further luxury
+that the mind could desire.
+
+And as we were being rowed ashore, we could not fail to be struck by the
+extraordinary abundance of life and business and activity in the world.
+Portree, with its wooded crags and white houses shining in the sun,
+seemed a large and populous city.  The smooth waters of the bay were
+crowded with craft of every description; and the boats of the yachts
+were coming and going with so many people on board of them that we were
+quite stared out of countenance.  And then, when we landed, and walked
+up the quay, and ascended the hill into the town, we regarded the signs
+over the shop-doors with the same curiosity that regards the commonest
+features of a foreign street.  There was a peculiarity about Portree,
+however, that is not met with in continental capitals.  We felt that the
+ground swayed lightly under our feet.  Perhaps these were the last
+oscillations of the great volcanic disturbance that shot the black
+Coolins into the sky.
+
+Then the shops: such displays of beautiful things, in silk, and wool,
+and cunning woodwork; human ingenuity declaring itself in a thousand
+ways, and appealing to our purses. Our purses, to tell the truth, were
+gaping.  A craving for purchase possessed us.  But, after all, the Laird
+could not buy servant girls’ scarves as a present for Mary Avon; and
+Angus Sutherland did not need a second waterproof coat; and though we
+reached the telegraph office, there would have been a certain monotony
+in spending innumerable shillings on unnecessary telegrams, even though
+we might be rejoicing in one of the highest conveniences of
+civilisation.  The plain truth must be told.  Our purchases were limited
+to some tobacco and a box or two of paper collars for the men; to one or
+two shilling novels; and a flask of eau-de-Cologne.  We did not half
+avail ourselves of all the luxuries spread out so temptingly before us.
+
+"Do you think the men will have the water on board yet?" Mary Avon says,
+as we walk back.  "I do not at all like being on land. The sun scorches
+so, and the air is stifling."
+
+"In my opeenion," says the Laird, "the authorities of Portree are
+deserving of great credit for having fixed up the apparatus to let boats
+get water on board at the quay.  It was a public-spirited project—it was
+that.  And I do not suppose that any one grumbles at having to pay a
+shilling for the privilege.  It is a legeetimate tax.  I am sure it
+would have been a long time or we could have got such a thing at
+Strathgovan, if there was need for it there; ye would scarcely believe
+it, ma’am, what a spirit of opposition there is among some o’ the
+Commissioners to any improvement, ye would not believe it."
+
+"Indeed," she says, in innocent wonder; she quite sympathises with this
+public-spirited reformer.
+
+"Ay, it’s true.  Mind ye, I am a Conservative myself; I will have
+nothing to do with Radicals and their Republics; no, no, but a wise
+Conservative knows how to march with the age.  Take my own poseetion:
+for example, as soon as I saw that the steam fire-engine was a
+necessity, I withdrew my opposition at once.  I am very thankful to you,
+ma’am, for having given me an opportunity of carefully considering the
+question.  I will never forget our trip round Mull.  Dear me! it is warm
+the day," added the Laird, as he raised his broad felt hat, and wiped
+his face with his voluminous silk handkerchief.
+
+Here come two pedestrians—good-looking young lads of an obviously
+English type—and faultlessly equipped from head to heel.  They look
+neither to the left nor right; on they go manfully through the dust, the
+sun scorching their faces; there must be a trifle of heat under these
+knapsacks.  Well, we wish them fine weather and whole heels.  It is not
+the way some of us would like to pass a holiday. For what is this that
+Miss Avon is singing lightly to herself as she walks carelessly on,
+occasionally pausing to look in at a shop—
+
+_And often have we seamen heard how men are killed or undone,_
+_By overturns of carriages, and thieves, and fires in London._
+
+Here she turns aside to caress a small terrier; but the animal,
+mistaking her intention, barks furiously, and retreats, growling and
+ferocious, into the shop.  Miss Avon is not disturbed. She walks on, and
+completes her nautical ballad—all for her own benefit—
+
+_We’ve heard what risk all landsmen run, from noblemen to tailors,_
+_So, Billy, let’s thank Providence that you and I are sailors!_
+
+
+"What on earth is that, Mary?" her friend behind asks.
+
+The girl stops with a surprised look, as if she had scarcely been
+listening to herself; then she says lightly:—
+
+"Oh, don’t you know the sailor’s song—I forget what they call it:—
+
+_A strong sou-wester’s blowing, Billy, can’t you hear it roar now,_
+_Lord help ’em, how I pities all unhappy folks on shore now._
+
+
+"You have become a thorough sailor, Miss Avon," says Angus Sutherland,
+who has overheard the last quotation.
+
+"I—I like it better—I am more interested," she says, timidly, "since you
+were so kind as to show me the working of the ship."
+
+"Indeed," says he, "I wish you would take command of her, and order her
+present captain below.  Don’t you see how tired his eyes are becoming?
+He won’t take his turn of sleep like the others; he has been scarcely
+off the deck night or day since we left Canna; and I find it is no use
+remonstrating with him.  He is too anxious; and he fancies I am in a
+hurry to get back; and these continual calms prevent his getting on.
+Now the whole difficulty would be solved, if you let me go back by the
+steamer; then you could lie at Portree here for a night or two, and let
+him have some proper rest."
+
+"I do believe, Angus," says his hostess, laughing in her gentle way,
+"that you threaten to leave us just to see how anxious we are to keep
+you."
+
+"My position as ship’s doctor," he retorts, "is compromised.  If Captain
+John falls ill on my hands whom am I to blame but myself?"
+
+"I am quite sure I can get him to go below," says Mary Avon, with
+decision—"quite sure of it.  That is, especially," she adds, rather
+shyly, "if you will take his place.  I know he would place more
+dependence on you than on any of the men."
+
+This is a very pretty compliment to pay to one who is rather proud of
+his nautical knowledge.
+
+"Well," he says, laughing, "the responsibility must rest on you.  Order
+him below, to-night, and see whether he obeys.  If we don’t get to a
+proper anchorage, we will manage to sail the yacht somehow among us—you
+being captain, Miss Avon."
+
+"If I am captain," she says, lightly—though she turns away her head
+somewhat, "I shall forbid your deserting the ship."
+
+"So long as you are captain, you need not fear that," he answers.
+Surely he could say no less.
+
+But it was still John of Skye who was skipper when, on getting under
+way, we nearly met with a serious accident.  Fresh water and all
+provisions having been got on board, we weighed anchor only to find the
+breeze die wholly down.  Then the dingay was got out to tow the yacht
+away from the sheltered harbour; and our young Doctor, always anxious
+for hard work, must needs jump in to join in this service.  But the
+little boat had been straining at the cable for scarcely five minutes
+when a squall of wind came over from the north-west and suddenly filled
+the sails.  "Look out there, boys!" called Captain John, for we were
+running full down on the dingay.  "Let go the rope!  Let go!" he
+shouted: but they would not let go, as the dingay came sweeping by. In
+fact, she caught the yacht just below the quarter, and seemed to
+disappear altogether. Mary Avon uttered one brief cry; and then stood
+pale—clasping one of the ropes—not daring to look.  And John of Skye
+uttered some exclamation in the Gaelic; and jumped on to the taffrail.
+But the next thing we saw, just above the taffrail, was the red and
+shining and laughing face of Angus Sutherland, who was hoisting himself
+up by means of the mizen boom; and directly afterwards appeared the
+scarlet cap of Hector of Moidart.  It was upon this latter culprit that
+the full force of John of Skye’s wrath was expended.
+
+"Why did you not let go the rope when I wass call to you?"
+
+"It is all right, and if I wass put into the water, I have been in the
+water before," was the philosophic reply.
+
+And now it was, as we drew away from Portree, that Captain Mary Avon
+endeavoured to assume supreme command and would have the deposed skipper
+go below and sleep.  John of Skye was very obedient, but he said:—"Oh,
+ay.  I will get plenty of sleep.  But that hill there, that is Ben
+Inivaig; and there is not any hill in the West Highlands so bad for
+squalls as that hill.  By and by I will get plenty of sleep."
+
+Ben Inivaig let us go past its great, gloomy, forbidding shoulders and
+cliffs without visiting us with anything worse than a few variable
+puffs; and we got well down into the Raasay Narrows.  What a picture of
+still summer loveliness was around us!—the rippling blue seas, the green
+shores, and far over these the black peaks of the Coolins now taking a
+purple tint in the glow of the afternoon.  The shallow Sound of Scalpa
+we did not venture to attack, especially as it was now low water; we
+went outside Scalpa, by the rocks of Skier Dearg. And still John of Skye
+evaded, with a gentle Highland courtesy, the orders of the captain. The
+silver bell of Master Fred summoned us below for dinner, and still John
+of Skye was gently obdurate.
+
+"Now, John," says Mary Avon, seriously, to him, "you want to make me
+angry."
+
+"Oh, no, mem; I not think that," says he, deprecatingly.
+
+"Then why won’t you go and have some sleep?  Do you want to be ill?"
+
+"Oh, there iss plenty of sleep," says he. "Maybe we will get to Kyle
+Akin to-night; and there will be plenty of sleep for us."
+
+"But I am asking you as a favour to go and get some sleep _now_.  Surely
+the men can take charge of the yacht!"
+
+"Oh, yes, oh, yes!" says John of Skye. "They can do that ferry well."
+
+And then he paused—for he was great friends with this young lady, and
+did not like to disoblige her.
+
+"You will be having your dinner now. After the dinner, if Mr. Sutherland
+himself will be on deck, I will go below and turn in for a time."
+
+"Of course Dr. Sutherland will be on deck," says the new captain,
+promptly; and she was so sure of one member of her crew that she added,
+"and he will not leave the tiller for a moment until you come to relieve
+him."
+
+Perhaps it was this promise—perhaps it was the wonderful beauty of the
+evening—that made us hurry over dinner.  Then we went on deck again; and
+our young Doctor, having got all his bearings and directions clear in
+his head, took the tiller, and John of Skye at length succumbed to the
+authority of Commander Avon and disappeared into the forecastle.
+
+The splendour of colour around us on that still evening!—away in the
+west the sea of a pale yellow green, with each ripple a flash of
+rose-flame, and over there in the south the great mountains of Skye—the
+Coolins, Blaven, and Ben-na-Cailleach—become of a plum-purple in the
+clear and cloudless sky. Angus Sutherland was at the tiller
+contemplatively smoking an almost black meerschaum; the Laird was
+discoursing to us about the extraordinary pith and conciseness of the
+Scotch phrases in the Northumbrian Psalter; while ever and anon a
+certain young lady, linked arm-in-arm with her friend, would break the
+silence with some aimless fragment of ballad or old-world air.
+
+And still we glided onwards in the beautiful evening; and now ahead of
+us in the dusk of the evening, the red star of Kyle Akin lighthouse
+steadily gleamed.  We might get to anchor, after all, without awaking
+John of Skye.
+
+"In weather like this," remarked our sovereign lady, "in the gathering
+darkness, John might keep asleep for fifty years."
+
+"Like Rip Van Winkle," said the Laird, proud of his erudition.  "That is
+a wonderful story that Washington Irving wrote—a verra fine story."
+
+"Washington Irving!—the story is as old as the Coolins," says Dr.
+Sutherland.
+
+The Laird stared as if he had been Rip Van Winkle himself: was he for
+ever to be checkmated by the encyclopædic knowledge of Young England—or
+Young Scotland rather—and that knowledge only the gatherings and
+sweepings of musty books that anybody with a parrot-like habit might
+acquire?
+
+"Why, surely you know that the legend belongs to that common stock of
+legends that go through all literatures?" says our young Doctor.  "I
+have no doubt the Hindoos have their Epimenides; and that Peter Klaus
+turns up somewhere or other in the Gaelic stories. However, that is of
+little importance; it is of importance that Captain John should get some
+sleep.  Hector, come here!"
+
+There was a brief consultation about the length of anchor-chain wanted
+for the little harbour opposite Kyle Akin; Hector’s instructions were on
+no account to disturb John of Skye.  But no sooner had they set about
+getting the chain on deck than another figure appeared, black among the
+rigging; and there was a well-known voice heard forward.  Then Captain
+John came aft, and, despite all remonstrances, would relieve his
+substitute.  Rip Van Winkle’s sleep had lasted about an hour and a half.
+
+And now we steal by the black shores; and that solitary red star comes
+nearer and nearer in the dusk; and at length we can make out two or
+three other paler lights close down by the water.  Behold! the yellow
+ports of a steam-yacht at anchor; we know, as our own anchor goes
+rattling out in the dark, that we shall have at least one neighbour and
+companion through the still watches of the night.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XV.*
+
+                             *TEMPTATION.*
+
+
+But the night, according to John of Skye’s chronology, lasts only until
+the tide turns or until a breeze springs up.  Long before the wan glare
+in the east has arisen to touch the highest peaks of the Coolins, we
+hear the tread of the men on deck getting the yacht under way.  And then
+there is a shuffling noise in Angus Sutherland’s cabin; and we guess
+that he is stealthily dressing in the dark.  Is he anxious to behold the
+wonders of daybreak in the beautiful Loch Alsh, or is he bound to take
+his share in the sailing of the ship?  Less perturbed spirits sink back
+again into sleep, and contentedly let the _White Dove_ go on her own way
+through the expanding blue-grey light of the dawn.
+
+Hours afterwards there is a strident shouting down the companion-way;
+everybody is summoned on deck to watch the yacht shoot the Narrows of
+Kyle Rhea.  And the Laird is the first to express his surprise: are
+these the dreaded Narrows that have caused Captain John to start before
+daybreak so as to shoot them with the tide?  All around is a dream of
+summer beauty and quiet.  A more perfect picture of peace and loveliness
+could not be imagined than the green crags of the mainland, and the vast
+hills of Skye, and this placid channel between shining in the fair light
+of the morning.  The only thing we notice is that on the glassy green of
+the water—this reflected, deep, almost opaque green is not unlike the
+colour of Niagara below the Falls—there are smooth circular lines here
+and there; and now and again the bows of the _White Dove_ slowly swerve
+away from her course as if in obedience to some unseen and mysterious
+pressure.  There is not a breath of wind; and it needs all the pulling
+of the two men out there in the dingay and all the watchful steering of
+Captain John to keep her head straight.  Then a light breeze comes along
+the great gully; the red-capped men are summoned on board; the dingay is
+left astern; the danger of being caught in an eddy and swirled ashore is
+over and gone.
+
+Suddenly the yacht stops as if she had run against a wall.  Then, just
+as she recovers, there is an extraordinary hissing and roaring in the
+dead silence around us, and close by the yacht we find a great circle of
+boiling and foaming water, forced up from below and overlapping itself
+in ever-increasing folds.  And then, on the perfectly glassy sea,
+another and another of those boiling and hissing circles appears, until
+there is a low rumbling in the summer air like the breaking of distant
+waves. And the yacht—the wind having again died down—is curiously
+compelled one way and then another, insomuch that John of Skye quickly
+orders the men out in the dingay again; and once more the long cable is
+tugging at her bows.
+
+"It seems to me," says Dr. Sutherland to our skipper, "that we are in
+the middle of about a thousand whirlpools."
+
+"Oh, it iss ferry quate this morning," says Captain John, with a shrewd
+smile.  "It iss not often so quate as this.  Ay, it iss sometimes ferry
+bad here—quite so bad as Corrievreckan; and when the flood-tide is
+rinnin, it will be rinnin like—shist like a race-horse."
+
+However, by dint of much hard pulling, and judicious steering, we manage
+to keep the _White Dove_ pretty well in mid-current; and only once—and
+that but for a second or two—get caught in one of those eddies circling
+in to the shore.  We pass the white ferry-house; a slight breeze carries
+us by the green shores and woods of Glenelg; we open out the wider sea
+between Isle Ornsay and Loch Hourn; and then a silver tinkle tells us
+breakfast is ready.
+
+That long, beautiful, calm summer day: Ferdinand and Miranda playing
+draughts on deck—he having rigged up an umbrella to shelter her from the
+hot sun; the Laird busy with papers referring to the Strathgovan Public
+Park; the hostess of these people overhauling the stores and meditating
+on something recondite for dinner.  At last the Doctor fairly burst out
+a-laughing.
+
+"Well," said he, "I have been in many a yacht; but never yet in one
+where everybody on board was anxiously waiting for the glass to fall."
+
+His hostess laughed too.
+
+"When you come south again," she said, "we may be able to give you a
+touch of something different.  I think that, even with all your love of
+gales, a few days of the equinoctials would quite satisfy you."
+
+"The equinoctials!" he said, with a surprised look.
+
+"Yes," said she boldly.  "Why not have a good holiday while you are
+about it?  And a yachting trip is nothing without a fight with the
+equinoctials.  Oh, you have no idea how splendidly the _White Dove_
+behaves!"
+
+"I should like to try her," he said, with a quick delight; but directly
+afterwards he ruefully shook his head.  "No, no," said he, "such a
+tremendous spell of idleness is not for me. I have not earned the right
+to it yet.  Twenty years hence I may be able to have three months’
+continued yachting in the West Highlands."
+
+"If I were you," retorted this small person, with a practical air, "I
+would take it when I could get it.  What do you know about twenty years
+hence?—you may be physician to the Emperor of China.  And you have
+worked very hard; and you ought to take as long a holiday as you can
+get."
+
+"I am sure," says Mary Avon very timidly, "that is very wise advice."
+
+"In the meantime," says he, cheerfully, "I am not physician to the
+Emperor of China, but to the passengers and crew of the _White Dove_.
+The passengers don’t do me the honour of consulting me; but I am going
+to prescribe for the crew on my own responsibility.  All I want is, that
+I shall have the assistance of Miss Avon in making them take the dose."
+
+Miss Avon looked up inquiringly with the soft black eyes of her.
+
+"Nobody has any control over them but herself—they are like refractory
+children. Now," said he, rather more seriously, "this night-and-day work
+is telling on the men. Another week of it and you would see _Insomnia_
+written in large letters on their eyes.  I want you, Miss Avon, to get
+Captain John and the men to have a complete night’s rest to-night—a
+sound night’s sleep from the time we finish dinner till daybreak.  We
+can take charge of the yacht."
+
+Miss Avon promptly rose to her feet.
+
+"John!" she called.
+
+The big brown-bearded skipper from Skye came aft—putting his pipe in his
+waistcoat-pocket the while.
+
+"John," she said, "I want you to do me a favour now.  You and the men
+have not been having enough sleep lately.  You must all go below
+to-night as soon as we come up from dinner; and you must have a good
+sleep till daybreak.  The gentlemen will take charge of the yacht."
+
+It was in vain that John of Skye protested he was not tired.  It was in
+vain that he assured her that, if a good breeze sprung up, we might get
+right back to Castle Osprey by the next morning.
+
+"Why, you know very well," she said, "this calm weather means to last
+for ever."
+
+"Oh, no!  I not think that, mem," said John of Skye, smiling.
+
+"At all events we shall be sailing all night; and that is what I want
+you to do, as a favour to me."
+
+Indeed, our skipper found it was of no use to refuse.  The young lady
+was peremptory.  And so, having settled that matter, she sate down to
+her draught-board again.
+
+But it was the Laird she was playing with now.  And this was a
+remarkable circumstance about the game: when Angus Sutherland played
+with Denny-mains, the latter was hopelessly and invariably beaten; and
+when Denny-mains in his turn played with Mary Avon, he was relentlessly
+and triumphantly the victor; but when Angus Sutherland played with Miss
+Avon, she, somehow or other, generally managed to secure two out of
+three games.  It was a puzzling triangular duel: the chief feature of it
+was the splendid joy of the Laird when he had conquered the English
+young lady.  He rubbed his hands, he chuckled, he laughed—just as if he
+had been repeating one of his own "good ones."
+
+However, at luncheon the Laird was much more serious; for he was showing
+to us how remiss the Government was in not taking up the great solan
+question.  He had a newspaper cutting which gave in figures—in rows of
+figures—the probable number of millions of herrings destroyed every year
+by the solan-geese.  The injuries done to the herring-fisheries of this
+country, he proved to us, was enormous.  If a solan is known to eat on
+an average fifty herrings a day, just think of the millions on millions
+of fish that must go to feed those nests on the Bass Rock!  The Laird
+waxed quite eloquent about it.  The human race were dearer to him far
+than any gannet or family of gannets.
+
+"What I wonder at is this," said our young Doctor with a curious grim
+smile, that we had learned to know, coming over his face, "that the
+solan, with that extraordinary supply of phosphorus to the brain, should
+have gone on remaining only a bird, and a very ordinary bird, too.  Its
+brain-power should have been developed; it should be able to speak by
+this time.  In fact, there ought to be solan schoolboards and parochial
+boards on the Bass Rock; and commissioners appointed to inquire whether
+the building of nests might not be conducted on more scientific
+principles. When I was a boy—I am sorry to say—I used often to catch a
+solan by floating out a piece of wood with a dead herring on it: a wise
+bird, with its brain full of phosphorus, ought to have known that it
+would break its head when it swooped down on a piece of wood."
+
+The Laird sate in dignified silence.  There was something occult and
+uncanny about many of this young man’s sayings—they savoured too much of
+the dangerous and unsettling tendencies of these modern days.  Besides,
+he did not see what good could come of likening a lot of solan-geese to
+the Commissioners of the Burgh of Strathgovan.  His remarks on the
+herring-fisheries had been practical and intelligible; they had given no
+occasion for jibes.
+
+We were suddenly startled by the rattling out of the anchor-chain.  What
+could it mean?—were we caught in an eddy?  There was a scurrying up on
+deck, only to find that, having drifted so far south with the tide, and
+the tide beginning to turn, John of Skye proposed to secure what
+advantage we had gained by coming to anchor.  There was a sort of shamed
+laughter over this business.  Was the noble _White Dove_ only a river
+barge, then, that she was thus dependent on the tides for her progress?
+But it was no use either to laugh or to grumble; two of us proposed to
+row the Laird away to certain distant islands that lie off the shore
+north of the mouth of Loch Hourn; and for amusement’s sake we took some
+towels with us.
+
+Look now how this long and shapely gig cuts the blue water.  The Laird
+is very dignified in the stern, with the tiller-ropes in his hand; he
+keeps a straight course enough—though he is mostly looking over the
+side. And, indeed, this is a perfect wonder-hall over which we are
+making our way—the water so clear that we notice the fish darting here
+and there among the great brown blades of the tangle and the long green
+sea-grass.  Then there are stretches of yellow sand, with shells and
+star-fish shining far below.  The sun burns on our hands; there is a
+dead stillness of heat; the measured splash of the oars startles the
+sea-birds in there among the rocks.
+
+_Send the biorlinn on careering,_
+_Cheerily and all together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+Look out for the shallows, most dignified of coxswains: what if we were
+to imbed her bows in the silver sand?—
+
+_Another cheer!  Our isle appears—_
+_Our biorlinn bears her on the faster!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long strong pull together!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+
+"Hold hard!" calls Denny-mains; and behold! we are in among a network of
+channels and small islands lying out here in the calm sea; and the birds
+are wildly calling and screaming and swooping about our heads, indignant
+at the approach of strangers.  What is our first duty, then, in coming
+to these unknown islands and straits?—why, surely, to name them in the
+interests of civilisation. And we do so accordingly.  Here—let it be for
+ever known—is John Smith Bay.  There, Thorley’s Food for Cattle Island.
+Beyond that, on the south, Brown and Poison’s Straits. It is quite true
+that these islands and bays may have been previously visited; but it was
+no doubt a long time ago; and the people did not stop to bestow names.
+The latitude and longitude may be dealt with afterwards; meanwhile the
+discoverers unanimously resolve that the most beautiful of all the
+islands shall hereafter, through all time, be known as the Island of
+Mary Avon.
+
+It was on this island that the Laird achieved his memorable capture of a
+young sea-bird—a huge creature of unknown species that fluttered and
+scrambled over bush and over scaur, while Denny-mains, quite forgetting
+his dignity and the heat of the sun, clambered after it over the rocks.
+And when he got it in his hands, it lay as one dead.  He was sorry.  He
+regarded the newly-fledged thing with compassion; and laid it tenderly
+down on the grass; and came away down again to the shore.  But he had
+scarcely turned his back when the demon bird got on its legs, and—with a
+succession of shrill and sarcastic "yawps"—was off and away over the
+higher ledges.  No fasting girl had ever shammed so completely as this
+scarcely-fledged bird.
+
+We bathed in Brown and Poison’s Straits, to the great distress of
+certain sea-pyots that kept screaming over our heads, resenting the
+intrusion of the discoverers.  But in the midst of it, we were suddenly
+called to observe a strange darkness on the sea, far away in the north,
+between Glenelg and Skye.  Behold! the long-looked-for wind—a hurricane
+swooping down from the northern hills!  Our toilette on the hot rocks
+was of brief duration; we jumped into the gig; away we went through the
+glassy water!  It was a race between us and the northerly breeze which
+should reach the yacht first; and we could see that John of Skye had
+remarked the coming wind, for the men were hoisting the fore-staysail.
+The dark blue on the water spreads; the reflections of the hills and the
+clouds gradually disappear; as we clamber on board the first puffs of
+the breeze are touching the great sails.  The anchor has just been got
+up; the gig is hoisted to the davits; slack out the main sheet, you
+shifty Hector, and let the great boom go out! Nor is it any mere squall
+that has come down from the hills; but a fine, steady, northerly breeze;
+and away we go with the white foam in our wake.  Farewell to the great
+mountains over the gloomy Loch Hourn; and to the lighthouse over there
+at Isle Ornsay; and to the giant shoulders of Ard-na-Glishnich.  Are not
+these the dark green woods of Armadale that we see in the west?  And
+southward, and still southward we go with the running seas and the fresh
+brisk breeze from the north: who knows where we may not be tonight
+before Angus Sutherland’s watch begins?
+
+There is but one thoughtful face on board. It is that of Mary Avon.  For
+the moment, at least, she seems scarcely to rejoice that we have at last
+got this grateful wind to bear us away to the south and to Castle
+Osprey.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XVI.*
+
+                          *THROUGH THE DARK.*
+
+_Ahead she goes! the land she knows!_
+
+
+What though we see a sudden squall come tearing over from the shores of
+Skye, whitening the waves as it approaches us?  The _White Dove_ is not
+afraid of any squall.  And there are the green woods of Armadale, dusky
+under the western glow; and here the sombre heights of Dun Bane; and
+soon we will open out the great gap of Loch Nevis.  We are running with
+the running waves; a general excitement prevails; even the Laird has
+dismissed for the moment certain dark suspicions about Frederick
+Smethurst that have for the last day or two been haunting his mind.
+
+And here is a fine sight!—the great steamer coming down from the
+north—and the sunset is burning on her red funnels—and behold! she has a
+line of flags from her stem to her top-masts and down to her stern
+again.  Who is on board?—some great laird, or some gay wedding-party?
+
+"Now is your chance, Angus," says Queen T., almost maliciously, as the
+steamer slowly gains on us.  "If you want to go on at once, I know the
+captain would stop for a minute and pick you up."
+
+He looked at her for a second in a quick, hurt way; then he saw that she
+was only laughing at him.
+
+"Oh, no, thank you," he said, blushing like a schoolboy; "unless you
+want to get rid of me. I have been looking forward to sailing the yacht
+to-night."
+
+"And—and you said," remarked Miss Avon, rather timidly, "that we should
+challenge them again after dinner this evening."
+
+This was a pretty combination: "we" referred to Angus Sutherland and
+herself.  Her elders were disrespectfully described as "them."  So the
+younger people had not forgotten how they were beaten by "them" on the
+previous evening.
+
+Is there a sound of pipes amid the throbbing of the paddles?  What a
+crowd of people swarm to the side of the great vessel!  And there is the
+captain on the paddle-box—out all handkerchiefs to return the
+innumerable salutations—and good-bye, you brave Glencoe!—you have no
+need to rob us of any one of our passengers.
+
+Where does the breeze come from on this still evening?—there is not a
+cloud in the sky, and there is a drowsy haze of heat all along the land.
+But nevertheless it continues; and, as the _White Dove_ cleaves her way
+through the tumbling sea, we gradually draw on to the Point of Sleat,
+and open out the great plain of the Atlantic, now a golden green, where
+the tops of the waves catch the light of the sunset skies.  And there,
+too, are our old friends Haleval and Haskeval; but they are so far away,
+and set amid such a bewildering light, that the whole island seems to be
+of a pale transparent rose-purple.  And a still stranger thing now
+attracts the eyes of all on board. The setting sun, as it nears the
+horizon-line of the sea, appears to be assuming a distinctly oblong
+shape.  It is slowly sinking into a purple haze, and becomes more and
+more oblong as it nears the sea.  There is a call for all the glasses
+hung up in the companion-way; and now what is it that we find out there
+by the aid of the various binoculars?  Why, apparently, a wall of
+purple; and there is an oblong hole in it, with a fire of gold light far
+away on the other side.  This apparent golden tunnel through the haze
+grows redder and more red; it becomes more and more elongated; then it
+burns a deeper crimson until it is almost a line. The next moment there
+is a sort of shock to the eyes; for there is a sudden darkness all along
+the horizon-line: the purple-black Atlantic is barred against that lurid
+haze low down in the west.
+
+It was a merry enough dinner-party: perhaps it was the consciousness
+that the _White Dove_ was still bowling along that brightened up our
+spirits, and made the Laird of Denny-mains more particularly loquacious.
+The number of good ones that he told us was quite remarkable—until his
+laughter might have been heard through the whole ship.  And to whom now
+did he devote the narration of those merry anecdotes—to whom but Miss
+Mary Avon, who was his ready chorus on all occasions, and who entered
+with a greater zest than any one into the humours of them.  Had she been
+studying the Lowland dialect, then, that she understood and laughed so
+lightly and joyously at stories about a thousand years of age?
+
+"Oh, ay," the Laird was saying patronisingly to her, "I see ye can enter
+into the peculiar humour of our Scotch stories; it is not every English
+person that can do that.  And ye understand the language fine....
+Well," he added, with an air of modest apology, "perhaps I do not give
+the pronunciation as broad as I might.  I have got out of the way of
+talking the provincial Scotch since I was a boy—indeed, ah’m generally
+taken for an Englishman maself—but I do my best to give ye the speerit
+of it."
+
+"Oh, I am sure your imitation of the provincial Scotch is most
+excellent—most excellent—and it adds so much to the humour of the
+stories," says this disgraceful young hypocrite.
+
+"Oh, ay, oh, ay," says the Laird, greatly delighted.  "I will admit that
+some o’ the stories would not have so much humour but for the language.
+But when ye have both!  Did ye ever hear of the laddie who was called in
+to his porridge by his mother?"
+
+We perceived by the twinkle in the Laird’s eyes that a real good one was
+coming.  He looked round to see that we were listening, but it was Mary
+Avon whom he addressed.
+
+"A grumbling bit laddie—a philosopher, too," said he.  "His mother
+thought he would come in the quicker if he knew there was a fly in the
+milk.  ’_Johnny_,’ she cried out, ’_Johnny, come in to your parritch;
+there’s a flee in the milk._’  ’_It’ll no droon,_’ says he.  ’_What!_’
+she says, ’_grumblin again?  Do ye think there’s no enough milk?’
+’Plenty for the parritch_,’ says he—_kee! kee! kee!_—sharp, eh, wasn’t
+eh?—’_Plenty for the parritch_,’ says he—ha! ha! ho! ho! ho!"—and the
+Laird slapped his thigh, and chuckled to himself.  "Oh, ay, Miss Mary,"
+he added, approvingly, "I see you are beginning to understand the Scotch
+humour fine."
+
+And if our good friend the Laird had been but twenty years younger—with
+his battery of irresistible jokes, and his great and obvious affection
+for this stray guest of ours, to say nothing of his dignity and
+importance as a Commissioner of Strathgovan?  What chance would a poor
+Scotch student have had, with his test-tubes and his scientific
+magazines, his restless, audacious speculations and eager ambitions?  On
+the one side, wealth, ease, a pleasant facetiousness, and a comfortable
+acceptance of the obvious facts of the universe—including water-rates
+and steam fire-engines; on the other, poverty, unrest, the physical
+struggle for existence, the mental struggle with the mysteries of life:
+who could doubt what the choice would be?  However, there was no thought
+of this rivalry now.  The Laird had abdicated in favour of his nephew,
+Howard, about whom he had been speaking a good deal to Mary Avon of
+late.  And Angus—though he was always very kind and timidly attentive to
+Miss Avon—seemed nevertheless at times almost a little afraid of her; or
+perhaps it was only a vein of shyness that cropped up from time to time
+through his hard mental characteristics.  In any case, he was at this
+moment neither the shy lover nor the eager student; he was full of the
+prospect of having sole command of the ship during a long night on the
+Atlantic, and he hurried us up on deck after dinner without a word about
+that return-battle at bezique.
+
+The night had come on apace, though there was still a ruddy mist about
+the northern skies, behind the dusky purple of the Coolin hills. The
+stars were out overhead; the air around us was full of the soft cries of
+the divers; occasionally, amid the lapping of the water, we could hear
+some whirring by of wings.  Then the red port light and the green
+starboard light were brought up from the forecastle, and fixed in their
+place; the men went below; Angus Sutherland took the tiller; the Laird
+kept walking backwards and forwards as a sort of look-out; and the two
+women were as usual seated on rugs together in some invisible
+corner—crooning snatches of ballads, or making impertinent remarks about
+people much wiser and older than themselves.
+
+"Now, Angus," says the voice of one of them—apparently from somewhere
+about the companion, "show us that you can sail the yacht properly, and
+we will give you complete command during the equinoctials."
+
+"You speak of the equinoctials," said he, laughing, "as if it was quite
+settled I should be here in September."
+
+"Why not?" said she, promptly.  "Mary is my witness you promised.  You
+wouldn’t go and desert two poor lone women?"
+
+"But I have got that most uncomfortable thing, a conscience," he
+answered; "and I know it would stare at me as if I were mad if I
+proposed to spend such a long time in idleness. It would be outraging
+all my theories, besides. You know, for years and years back I have been
+limiting myself in every way—living, for example, on the smallest
+allowance of food and drink, and that of the simplest and cheapest—so
+that if any need arose, I should have no luxurious habits to abandon——"
+
+"But what possible need can there be?" said Mary Avon, warmly.
+
+"Do you expect to spend your life in a jail?" said the other woman.
+
+"No," said he, quite simply.  "But I will give you an instance of what a
+man who devotes himself to his profession may have to do.  A friend of
+mine, who is one of the highest living authorities on _Materia Medica_,
+refused all invitations for three months, and during the whole of that
+time lived each day on precisely the same food and drink, weighed out in
+exact quantities, so as to determine the effect of particular drugs on
+himself.  Well, you know, you should be ready to do that——"
+
+"Oh, how wrong you are!" says Mary Avon, with the same impetuosity.  "A
+man who works as hard as you do should not sacrifice yourself to a
+theory.  And what is it?  It is quite foolish!"
+
+"Mary!" her friend says.
+
+"It is," she says, with generous warmth.  "It is like a man who goes
+through life with a coffin on his back, so that he may be ready for
+death.  Don’t you think that when death comes it will be time enough to
+be getting the coffin?"
+
+This was a poser.
+
+"You know quite well," she says, "that when the real occasion offered,
+like the one you describe, you could deny yourself any luxuries readily
+enough; why should you do so now?"
+
+At this there was a gentle sound of laughter.
+
+"Luxuries—the luxuries of the _White Dove_!" says her hostess, mindful
+of tinned meats.
+
+"Yes, indeed," says our young Doctor, though he is laughing too.  "There
+is far too much luxury—the luxury of idleness—on board this yacht to be
+wholesome for one like me."
+
+"Perhaps you object to the effeminacy of the downy couches and the
+feather pillows," says his hostess, who is always grumbling about the
+hardness of the beds.
+
+But it appears that she has made an exceedingly bad shot.  The man at
+the wheel—one can just make out his dark figure against the clear
+starlit heavens, though occasionally he gets before the yellow light of
+the binnacle—proceeds to assure her that, of all the luxuries of
+civilisation, he appreciates most a horse-hair pillow; and that he
+attributes his sound sleeping on board the yacht to the hardness of the
+beds.  He would rather lay his head on a brick, he says, for a night’s
+rest than sink it in the softest feathers.
+
+"Do you wonder," he says, "that Jacob dreamed of angels when he had a
+stone for his pillow?  I don’t.  If I wanted to have a pleasant sleep
+and fine dreams that is the sort of pillow I should have."
+
+Some phrase of this catches the ear of our look-out forward; he
+instantly comes aft.
+
+"Yes, it is a singular piece of testimony," he says.  "There is no doubt
+of it; I have myself seen the very place."
+
+We were not startled; we knew that the Laird, under the guidance of a
+well-known Free Church minister, had made a run through Palestine.
+
+"Ay," said he, "the further I went away from my own country the more I
+saw nothing but decadence and meesery.  The poor craytures!—living among
+ruins, and tombs, and decay, without a trace of public spirit or private
+energy.  The disregard of sanitary laws was something terrible to look
+at—as bad as their universal beggary.  That is what comes of
+centralisation, of suppressing local government. Would ye believe that
+there are a lot of silly bodies actually working to get our Burgh of
+Strathgovan annexed to Glasgow—swallowed up in Glasgow!"
+
+"Impossible!" we exclaim.
+
+"I tell ye it is true.  But no, no!  We are not ripe yet for those
+Radical measures.  We are constituted under an Act of Parliament. Before
+the House of Commons would dare to annex the free and flourishing Burgh
+of Strathgovan to Glasgow, I’m thinking the country far and near would
+hear something of it!"
+
+Yes; and we think so, too.  And we think it would be better if the
+hamlets and towns of Palestine were governed by men of public spirit
+like the Commissioners of Strathgovan; then they would be properly
+looked after.  Is there a single steam fire-engine in Jericho?
+
+However, it is late; and presently the women say good-night and retire.
+And the Laird is persuaded to go below with them also; for how otherwise
+could he have his final glass of toddy in the saloon?  There are but two
+of us left on deck, in the darkness, under the stars.
+
+It is a beautiful night, with those white and quivering points overhead,
+and the other white and burning points gleaming on the black waves that
+whirl by the yacht.  Beyond the heaving plain of waters there is nothing
+visible but the dusky gloom of the Island of Eigg, and away in the south
+the golden eye of Ardnamurchan lighthouse, for which we are steering.
+Then the intense silence—broken only when the wind, changing a little,
+gybes the sails and sends the great boom swinging over on to the lee
+tackle.  It is so still that we are startled by the sudden noise of the
+blowing of a whale; and it sounds quite close to the yacht, though it is
+more likely that the animal is miles away.
+
+"She is a wonderful creature—she is indeed," says the man at the wheel;
+as if every one must necessarily be thinking about the same person.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Your young English friend.  Every minute of her life seems to be an
+enjoyment to her; she sings just as a bird sings, for her own amusement,
+and without thinking."
+
+"She can think, too; she is not a fool."
+
+"Though she does not look very strong," continues the young Doctor, "she
+must have a thoroughly healthy constitution, or how could she have such
+a happy disposition?  She is always contented; she is never put out.  If
+you had only seen her patience and cheerfulness when she was attending
+that old woman—many a time I regretted it—the case was hopeless—a hired
+nurse would have done as well."
+
+"Hiring a nurse might not have satisfied the young lady’s notions of
+duty."
+
+"Well, I’ve seen women in sick-rooms, but never any one like her," said
+he, and then he added, with a sort of emphatic wonder, "I’m hanged if
+she did not seem to enjoy that, too! Then you never saw any one so
+particular about following out instructions."
+
+It is here suggested to our steersman that he himself may be a little
+too particular about following out instructions.  For John of Skye’s
+last counsel was to keep Ardnamurchan light on our port bow.  That was
+all very well when we were off the north of Eigg; but is Dr. Sutherland
+aware that the south point of Eigg—Eilean-na-Castle—juts pretty far out;
+and is not that black line of land coming uncommonly close on our
+starboard bow?  With some reluctance our new skipper consents to alter
+his course by a couple of points; and we bear away down for
+Ardnamurchan.
+
+And of what did he not talk during the long starlit night—the person who
+ought to have been lookout sitting contentedly aft, a mute listener?—of
+the strange fears that must have beset the people who first adventured
+out to sea; of the vast expenditure of human life that must have been
+thrown away in the discovery of the most common facts about currents and
+tides and rocks; and so forth, and so forth. But ever and again his talk
+returned to Mary Avon.
+
+"What does the Laird mean by his suspicions about her uncle?" he asked
+on one occasion—just as we had been watching a blue-white bolt flash
+down through the serene heavens and expire in mid-air.
+
+"Mr. Frederick Smethurst has an ugly face."
+
+"But what does he mean about those relations between the man with the
+ugly face and his niece?"
+
+"That is idle speculation.  Frederick Smethurst was her trustee, and
+might have done her some mischief—that is, if he is an out-and-out
+scoundrel; but that is all over.  Mary is mistress of her own property
+now."
+
+Here the boom came slowly swinging over; and presently there were all
+the sheets of the head-sails to be looked after—tedious work enough for
+amateurs in the darkness of the night.
+
+Then further silence; and the monotonous rush and murmur of the unseen
+sea; and the dark topmast describing circles among the stars. We get up
+one of the glasses to make astronomical observations, but the heaving of
+the boat somewhat interferes with this quest after knowledge.  Whoever
+wants to have a good idea of forked lightning has only to take up a
+binocular on board a pitching yacht, and try to fix it on a particular
+planet.
+
+The calm, solemn night passes slowly; the red and green lights shine on
+the black rigging; afar in the south burns the guiding star of
+Ardnamurchan.  And we have drawn away from Eigg now, and passed the open
+sound; and there, beyond the murmuring sea, is the doom of the Island of
+Muick.  All the people below are wrapped in slumber; the cabins are
+dark; there is only a solitary candle burning in the saloon.  It is a
+strange thing to be responsible for the lives of those sleeping folk—out
+here on the lone Atlantic, in the stillness of the night.
+
+Our young Doctor bears his responsibility lightly.  He has—for a
+wonder—laid aside his pipe; and he is humming a song that he has heard
+Mary Avon singing of late—something about
+
+    O think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa’,
+    For I’ll come and see ye in spite o’ them a’,
+
+and he is wishing the breeze would blow a bit harder—and wondering
+whether the wind will die away altogether when we get under the lee of
+Ardnamurchan Point.
+
+But long before we have got down to Ardnamurchan, there is a pale grey
+light beginning to tell in the eastern skies; and the stars are growing
+fainter; and the black line of the land is growing clearer above the
+wrestling seas.  Is it a fancy that the first light airs of the morning
+are a trifle cold?  And then we suddenly see, among the dark rigging
+forward, one or two black figures; and presently John of Skye comes aft,
+rubbing his eyes.  He has had a good sleep at last.
+
+Go below, then, you stout-sinewed young Doctor; you have had your desire
+of sailing the _White Dove_ through the still watches of the night.  And
+soon you will be asleep, with your head on the hard pillow of that
+little state-room and though the pillow is not as hard as a stone, still
+the night and the sea and the stars are quickening to the brain; and who
+knows that you may not perchance after all dream of angels, or hear some
+faint singing far away?
+
+                     *      *      *      *      *
+
+_There was Mary Beaton—and Mary Seaton——_
+
+                     *      *      *      *      *
+
+Or is it only a sound of the waves?
+
+
+
+
+                             END OF VOL. I.
+
+
+
+
+         LONDON: R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, BREAD STREET HILL.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I (OF 3) ***
+
+
+
+
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+                         WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I
+
+
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost
+no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
+under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
+eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+
+Title: White Wings, Volume I
+       A Yachting Romance
+Author: William Black
+Release Date: September 27, 2013 [EBook #43828]
+Language: English
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I (OF 3)
+***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+                              WHITE WINGS:
+
+                          A Yachting Romance.
+
+
+                                   BY
+
+                             WILLIAM BLACK,
+
+            AUTHOR OF "THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PHAETON,"
+                 "GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY," ETC.
+
+
+
+                          _IN THREE VOLUMES._
+
+                                VOL. I.
+
+
+
+                                London:
+                           MACMILLAN AND CO.
+                                 1880.
+
+        _The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved._
+
+
+
+
+                                LONDON:
+                       R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR,
+                           BREAD STREET HILL.
+
+
+
+
+                                 TO OUR
+
+                             *QUEEN MABS,*
+
+               IN MEMORY OF HER FIRST CRUISE ON BOARD ANY
+             YACHT, THIS RECORD OF OUR LONG SUMMER IDLENESS
+             IN 1878 IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY HER
+                      OBLIGED AND HUMBLE SERVANT,
+
+                             _THE AUTHOR._
+
+                         BRIGHTON, _June_ 1880.
+
+
+
+
+                              *CONTENTS.*
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I.
+
+ON THE QUAY
+
+                              CHAPTER II.
+
+MARY AVON
+
+                              CHAPTER III.
+
+UNDER WAY
+
+                              CHAPTER IV.
+
+A MESSAGE
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+
+A BRAVE CAREER
+
+                              CHAPTER VI.
+
+OUR NEW GUESTS
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+
+NORTHWARD
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII.
+
+PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS
+
+                              CHAPTER IX.
+
+A WILD STUDIO
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+
+"DUNVEGAN!--OH!  DUNVEGAN!"
+
+                              CHAPTER XI.
+
+DRAWING NEARER
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII.
+
+FERDINAND AND MIRANDA
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+
+EVIL TIDINGS
+
+                              CHAPTER XV.
+
+TEMPTATION
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THROUGH THE DARK
+
+
+
+
+                             *WHITE WINGS:*
+
+                         *A Yachting Romance.*
+
+
+
+                              *CHAPTER I.*
+
+                             *ON THE QUAY.*
+
+
+A murmur runs through the crowd; the various idlers grow alert; all eyes
+are suddenly turned to the south.  And there, far away over the green
+headland, a small tuft of brown smoke appears, rising into the golden
+glow of the afternoon, and we know that by and by we shall see the great
+steamer with her scarlet funnels come sailing round the point.  The
+Laird of Denny-mains assumes an air of still further importance; he
+pulls his frock-coat tight at the waist; he adjusts his black satin
+necktie; his tall, white, stiff collar seems more rigid and white than
+ever.  He has heard of the wonderful stranger; and he knows that now she
+is drawing near.
+
+Heard of her?  He has heard of nothing else since ever he came to us in
+these northern wilds.  For the mistress of this household--with all her
+domineering ways and her fits of majestic temper--has a love for her
+intimate girl-friends far passing the love of men; especially when the
+young ladies are obedient, and gentle, and ready to pay to her matronly
+dignity the compliment of a respectful awe. And this particular friend
+who is now coming to us: what has not the Laird heard about her during
+these past few days?--of her high courage, her resolute unselfishness,
+her splendid cheerfulness?  "A singing-bird in the house," that was one
+of the phrases used, "in wet weather or fine."  And then the
+enthusiastic friend muddled her metaphors somehow, and gave the puzzled
+Laird to understand that the presence of this young lady in a house was
+like having sweet-brier about the rooms.  No wonder he put on his
+highest and stiffest collar before he marched grandly down with us to
+the quay.
+
+"And does she not deserve a long holiday sir?" says the Laird's hostess
+to him, as together they watch for the steamer coming round the point.
+"Just fancy!  Two months' attendance on that old woman, who was her
+mother's nurse.  Two months in a sick-room, without a soul to break the
+monotony of it. And the girl living in a strange town all by herself!"
+
+"Ay; and in such a town as Edinburgh," remarks the Laird, with great
+compassion. His own property lies just outside Glasgow.
+
+"Dear me," says he, "what must a young English leddy have thought of our
+Scotch way of speech when she heard they poor Edinburgh bodies and their
+yaumering sing-song?  Not that I quarrel with any people for having an
+accent in their way of speaking; they have that in all parts of England
+as well as in Scotland--in Yorkshire, and Somersetshire, and what not;
+and even in London itself there is a way of speech that is quite
+recognisable to a stranger.  But I have often thought that there was
+less trace of accent about Glesca and the west of Scotland than in any
+other part; in fact, ah have often been taken for an Englishman maself."
+
+"Indeed!" says this gentle creature standing by him; and her upturned
+eyes are full of an innocent belief.  You would swear she was meditating
+on summoning instantly her boys from Epsom College that they might
+acquire a pure accent--or get rid of all accent--on the banks of the
+Clyde.
+
+"Yes," say the Laird, with a decision almost amounting to enthusiasm,
+"it is a grand inheritance that we in the south of Scotland are
+preserving for you English people; and you know little of it.  You do
+not know that we are preserving the English language for you as it was
+spoken centuries ago, and as you find it in your oldest writings.
+Scotticisms! Why, if ye were to read the prose of Mandeville or Wyclif,
+or the poetry of Robert of Brunne or Langdale, ye would find that our
+Scotticisms were the very pith and marrow of the English language.  Ay;
+it is so."
+
+The innocent eyes express such profound interest that the Laird of
+Denny-mains almost forgets about the coming steamer, so anxious is he to
+crush us with a display of his erudition.
+
+"It is just remarkable," he says, "that your dictionaries should put
+down, as obsolete, words that are in common use all over the south of
+Scotland, where, as I say, the old Northumbrian English is preserved in
+its purity; and that ye should have learned people hunting up in Chaucer
+or Gower for the very speech that they might hear among the bits o'
+weans running about the Gallowgate or the Broomielaw.  '_Wha's acht
+ye?_' you say to one of them; and you think you are talking Scotch. No,
+no; _acht_ is only the old English for possession: isn't '_Wha's acht
+ye?_' shorter and pithier than '_To whom do you belong?_'
+
+"Oh, certainly!" says the meek disciple: the recall of the boys from
+Surrey is obviously decided on.
+
+"And _speir_ for _inquire_; and _ferly_ for _wonderful_; and _tyne_ for
+_lose_; and _fey_ for _about to die_; and _reek_ for _smoke_; and
+_menseful_ for _becoming_; and _belyve_, and _fere_, and _biggan_, and
+such words.  Ye call them Scotch?  Oh, no, ma'am; they are English; ye
+find them in all the old English writers; and they are the best of
+English too; a great deal better than the Frenchified stuff that your
+southern English has become."
+
+Not for worlds would the Laird have wounded the patriotic sensitiveness
+of this gentle friend of his from the South; but indeed, she had surely
+nothing to complain of in his insisting to an Englishwoman on the value
+of thorough English?
+
+"I thought," says she, demurely, "that the Scotch had a good many French
+words in it."
+
+The Laird pretends not to hear: he is so deeply interested in the
+steamer which is now coming over the smooth waters of the bay. But,
+having announced that there are a great many people on board, he returns
+to his discourse.
+
+"Ah'm sure of this, too," says he, "that in the matter of pronunciation
+the Lowland Scotch have preserved the best English--you can see that
+_faither_, and _twelmonth_, and _twa_, and such words are nearer the
+original Anglo-Saxon----"
+
+His hearers had been taught to shudder at the phrase
+Anglo-Saxon--without exactly knowing why.  But who could withstand the
+authority of the Laird?  Moreover, we see relief drawing near; the
+steamer's paddles are throbbing in the still afternoon.
+
+"If ye turn to _Piers the Plowman_," continues the indefatigable
+Denny-mains, "ye will find Langdale writing--
+
+    And a fewe Cruddes and Crayme.
+
+Why, it is the familiar phrase of our Scotch children!--Do ye think they
+would say _curds_? And then, _fewe_.  I am not sure, but I imagine we
+Scotch are only making use of old English when we make certain forms of
+food plural. We say 'a few broth;' we speak of porridge as 'they.'
+Perhaps that is a survival, too, eh?"
+
+"Oh, yes, certainly.  But please mind the ropes, sir," observes his
+humble pupil, careful of her master's physical safety.  For at this
+moment the steamer is slowing into the quay; and the men have the ropes
+ready to fling ashore.
+
+"Not," remarks the Laird, prudently backing away from the edge of the
+pier, "that I would say anything of these matters to your young English
+friend; certainly not.  No doubt she prefers the southern English she
+has been accustomed to.  But, bless me! just to think that she should
+judge of our Scotch tongue by the way they Edinburgh bodies speak!"
+
+"It is sad, is it not?" remarks his companion--but all her attention is
+now fixed on the crowd of people swarming to the side of the steamer.
+
+"And, indeed," the Laird explains, to close the subject, "it is only a
+hobby of mine--only a hobby.  Ye may have noticed that I do not use
+those words in my own speech, though I value them.  No, I will not force
+any Scotch on the young leddy.  As ah say, ah have often been taken for
+an Englishman maself, both at home and abroad."
+
+And now--and now--the great steamer is in at the quay; the gangways are
+run over; there is a thronging up the paddle-boxes; and eager faces on
+shore scan equally eager faces on board--each pair of eyes looking for
+that other pair of eyes to flash a glad recognition. And where is
+she--the flower of womankind--the possessor of all virtue and grace and
+courage--the wonder of the world?  The Laird shares in our excitement.
+He, too, scans the crowd eagerly.  He submits to be hustled by the
+porters; he hears nothing of the roaring of the steam; for is she not
+coming ashore at last?  And we know--or guess--that he is looking out
+for some splendid creature--some Boadicea, with stately tread and
+imperious mien--some Jephtha's daughter, with proud death in her
+eyes--some Rosamond of our modern days, with a glory of loveliness on
+her face and hair.  And we know that the master who has been lecturing
+us for half-an-hour on our disgraceful neglect of pure English will not
+shock the sensitive Southern ear by any harsh accent of the North; but
+will address her in beautiful and courtly strains, in tones such as
+Edinburgh never knew.  Where is the queen of womankind, amid all this
+commonplace, hurrying, loquacious crowd?
+
+Forthwith the Laird, with a quick amazement in his eyes, sees a small
+and insignificant person--he only catches a glimpse of a black dress and
+a white face--suddenly clasped round in the warm embrace of her friend.
+He stares for a second; and then he exclaims--apparently to himself:--
+
+"Dear me!  What a shilpit bit thing!"
+
+_Pale--slight--delicate--tiny_: surely such a master of idiomatic
+English cannot have forgotten the existence of these words.  But this is
+all he cries to himself, in his surprise and wonder:--
+
+"Dear me!  What a shilpit bit thing!"
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER II.*
+
+                              *MARY AVON.*
+
+
+The bright, frank laugh of her face!--the friendly, unhesitating,
+affectionate look in those soft black eyes!  He forgot all about
+Rosamond and Boadicea when he was presented to this "shilpit" person.
+And when, instead of the usual ceremony of introduction, she bravely put
+her hand in his, and said she had often heard of him from their common
+friend, he did not notice that she was rather plain.  He did not even
+stop to consider in what degree her Southern accent might be improved by
+residence amongst the preservers of pure English.  He was anxious to
+know if she was not greatly tired.  He hoped the sea had been smooth as
+the steamer came past Easdale.  And her luggage--should he look after
+her luggage for her?
+
+But Miss Avon was an expert traveller, and quite competent to look after
+her own luggage. Even as he spoke, it was being hoisted on to the
+waggonette.
+
+"You will let me drive?" says she, eying critically the two shaggy,
+farm-looking animals.
+
+"Indeed I shall do nothing of the kind," says her hostess, promptly.
+
+But there was no disappointment at all on her face as we drove away
+through the golden evening--by the side of the murmuring shore, past the
+overhanging fir-wood, up and across the high land commanding a view of
+the wide western seas.  There was instead a look of such intense delight
+that we knew, however silent the lips might be, that the bird-soul was
+singing within.  Everything charmed her--the cool, sweet air, the scent
+of the sea-weed, the glow on the mountains out there in the west.  And
+as she chattered her delight to us--like a bird escaped from its prison
+and glad to get into the sunlight and free air again--the Laird sate
+mute and listened.  He watched the frank, bright, expressive face. He
+followed and responded to her every mood--with a sort of fond paternal
+indulgence that almost prompted him to take her hand.  When she smiled,
+he laughed.  When she talked seriously, he looked concerned.  He was
+entirely forgetting that she was a "shilpit bit thing;" and he would
+have admitted that the Southern way of speaking English--although, no
+doubt, fallen away from the traditions of the Northumbrian dialect--had,
+after all, a certain music in it that made it pleasant to the ear.
+
+Up the hill, then, with a flourish for the last!--the dust rolling away
+in clouds behind us--the view over the Atlantic widening as we ascend.
+And here is Castle Osprey, as we have dubbed the place, with its wide
+open door, and its walls half hidden with tree-fuchsias, and its great
+rose-garden.  Had Fair Rosamond herself come to Castle Osprey that
+evening, she could not have been waited on with greater solicitude than
+the Laird showed in assisting this "shilpit bit thing" to
+alight--though, indeed there was a slight stumble, of which no one took
+any notice at the time. He busied himself with her luggage quite
+unnecessarily.  He suggested a cup of tea, though it wanted but fifteen
+minutes to dinner-time.  He assured her that the glass was rising--which
+was not the case.  And when she was being hurried off to her own room to
+prepare for dinner--by one who rules her household with a rod of
+iron--he had the effrontery to tell her to take her own time: dinner
+could wait.  The man actually proposed to keep dinner waiting--in Castle
+Osprey.
+
+That this was love at first sight, who could doubt?  And perhaps the
+nimble brain of one who was at this moment hurriedly dressing in her own
+room--and whom nature has constituted an indefatigable matchmaker--may
+have been considering whether this rich old bachelor might not marry,
+after all.  And if he were to marry, why should not he marry the young
+lady in whom he seemed to have taken so sudden and warm an interest?  As
+for her: Mary Avon was now two or three-and-twenty; she was not likely
+to prove attractive to young men; her small fortune was scarcely worth
+considering; she was almost alone in the world.  Older men had married
+younger women.  The Laird had no immediate relative to inherit
+Denny-mains and his very substantial fortune.  And would they not see
+plenty of each other on board the yacht?
+
+But in her heart of hearts the schemer knew better.  She knew that the
+romance-chapter in the Laird's life--and a bitter chapter it was--had
+been finished and closed and put away many and many a year ago.  She
+knew how the great disappointment of his life had failed to sour him;
+how he was ready to share among friends and companions the large and
+generous heart that had been for a time laid at the feet of a jilt; how
+his keen and active interest, that might have been confined to his
+children and his children's children, was now devoted to a hundred
+things--the planting at Denny-mains, the great heresy case, the
+patronage of young artists, even the preservation of pure English, and
+what not.  And that fortunate young gentleman--ostensibly his
+nephew--whom he had sent to Harrow and to Cambridge, who was now living
+a very easy life in the Middle Temple, and who would no doubt come in
+for Denny-mains?  Well, we knew a little about that young man, too.  We
+knew why the Laird, when he found that both the boy's father and mother
+were dead, adopted him, and educated him, and got him to call him uncle.
+He had taken under his care the son of the woman who had jilted him
+five-and-thirty years ago; the lad had his mother's eyes.
+
+And now we are assembled in the drawing-room--all except the new guest;
+and the glow of the sunset is shining in at the open windows. The Laird
+is eagerly proving to us that the change from the cold east winds of
+Edinburgh to the warm westerly winds of the Highlands must make an
+immediate change in the young lady's face--and declaring that she ought
+to go on board the yacht at once---and asserting that the ladies' cabin
+on board the _White Dove_ is the most beautiful little cabin he ever
+saw--when----
+
+When, behold! at the open door--meeting the glow of the
+sunshine--appears a figure--dressed all in black velvet, plain and
+unadorned but for a broad belt of gold fringe that comes round the neck
+and crosses the bosom.  And above that again is a lot of white muslin
+stuff, on which the small, shapely, smooth-dressed head seems gently to
+rest.  The plain black velvet dress gives a certain importance and
+substantiality to the otherwise slight figure; the broad fringe of gold
+glints and gleams as she moves towards us; but who can even think of
+these things when he meets the brave glance of Mary Avon's eyes?  She
+was humming, as she came down the stair--
+
+_O think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa;_
+_For I'll come and see ye, in spite o' them a',_
+
+--we might have known it was the bird-soul come among us.
+
+Now the manner in which the Laird of Denny-mains set about capturing the
+affections of this innocent young thing--as he sate opposite her at
+dinner--would have merited severe reproof in one of less mature age; and
+might, indeed, have been followed by serious consequences but for the
+very decided manner in which Miss Avon showed that she could take care
+of herself.  Whoever heard Mary Avon laugh would have been assured.  And
+she did laugh a good deal; for the Laird, determined to amuse her, was
+relating a series of anecdotes which he called "good ones," and which
+seemed to have afforded great enjoyment to the people of the south of
+Scotland during the last century or so.  There was in especial a
+Highland steward of a steamer about whom a vast number of these stories
+was told; and if the point was at times rather difficult to catch, who
+could fail to be tickled by the Laird's own and obvious enjoyment?
+"There was another good one, Miss Avon," he would say; and then the bare
+memory of the great facetiousness of the anecdote would break out in
+such half-suppressed guffaws as altogether to stop the current of the
+narrative.  Miss Avon laughed--we could not quite tell whether it was at
+the Highland steward or the Laird--until the tears ran down her checks.
+Dinner was scarcely thought of.  It was a disgraceful exhibition.
+
+"There was another good one about Homesh," said the Laird, vainly
+endeavouring to suppress his laughter.  "He came up on deck one
+enormously hot day, and looked ashore, and saw some cattle standing
+knee-deep in a pool of water.  Says he--ha! ha! ha!--ho! ho! ho!--says
+he---says he--'_A wish a wass a stot!_'--he! he! he!--ho! ho! ho!"
+
+Of course we all laughed heartily, and Mary Avon more than any of us;
+but if she had gone down on her knees and sworn that she knew what the
+point of the story was, we should not have believed her.  But the Laird
+was delighted.  He went on with his good ones.  The mythical Homesh and
+his idiotic adventures became portentous.  The very servants could
+scarcely carry the dishes straight.
+
+But in the midst of it all the Laird suddenly let his knife and fork
+drop on his plate, and stared.  Then he quickly exclaimed--
+
+"Bless me! lassie!"
+
+We saw in a second what had occasioned his alarm.  The girl's face had
+become ghastly white; and she was almost falling away from her chair
+when her hostess, who happened to spring to her feet first, caught her,
+and held her, and called for water.  What could it mean?  Mary Avon was
+not of the sighing and fainting fraternity.
+
+And presently she came to herself--and faintly making apologies, would
+go from the room.  It was her ankle, she murmured--with the face still
+white from pain.  But when she tried to rise, she fell back again: the
+agony was too great.  And so we had to carry her.
+
+About ten minutes thereafter the mistress of the house came back to the
+Laird, who had been sitting by himself, in great concern.
+
+"That girl! that girl!" she exclaims--and one might almost imagine there
+are tears in her eyes.  "Can you fancy such a thing!  She twists her
+ankle in getting down from the waggonette--brings back the old
+sprain--perhaps lames herself for life--and, in spite of the pain, sits
+here laughing and joking, so that she may not spoil our first evening
+together! Did you ever hear of such a thing!  Sitting here laughing,
+with her ankle swelled so that I had to cut the boot off!"
+
+"Gracious me!" says the Laird; "is it as bad as that?"
+
+"And if she should become permanently lame--why--why----"
+
+But was she going to make an appeal direct to the owner of Denny-mains?
+If the younger men were not likely to marry a lame little white-faced
+girl, that was none of his business. The Laird's marrying days had
+departed five-and-thirty years before.
+
+However, we had to finish our dinner, somehow, in consideration to our
+elder guest. And then the surgeon came; and bound up the ankle hard and
+fast; and Miss Avon, with a thousand meek apologies for being so stupid,
+declared again and again that her foot would be all right in the
+morning, and that we must get ready to start.  And when her friend
+assured her that this preliminary canter of the yacht might just as well
+be put off for a few days--until, for example, that young doctor from
+Edinburgh came who had been invited to go a proper cruise with us--her
+distress was so great that we had to promise to start next day
+punctually at ten.  So she sent us down again to amuse the Laird.
+
+But hark! what is this we hear just as Denny-mains is having his whisky
+and hot water brought in?  It is a gay voice humming on the stairs--
+
+_By the margin of fair Z�rich's waters._
+
+
+"That girl!" cries her hostess angrily, as she jumps to her feet.
+
+The door opens; and here is Mary Avon, with calm self-possession, making
+her way to a chair.
+
+"I knew you wouldn't believe me," she says coolly, "if I did not come
+down.  I tell you my foot is as well as may be; and Dot-and-carry-one
+will get down to the yacht in the morning as easily as any of you.  And
+that last story about Homesh," she says to the Laird, with a smile in
+the soft black eyes that must have made his heart jump.  "Really, sir,
+you must tell me the ending of that story; it was so stupid of me!"
+
+"Shilpit" she may have been; but the Laird, for one, was beginning to
+believe that this girl had the courage and nerve of a dozen men.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER III.*
+
+                              *UNDER WAY.*
+
+
+The first eager glance out on this brilliant and beautiful morning; and
+behold! it is all a wonder of blue seas and blue skies that we find
+before us, with Lismore lying golden-green in the sunlight, and the
+great mountains of Mull and Morven shining with the pale etherial
+colours of the dawn.  And what are the rhymes that are ringing through
+one's brain--the echo perchance of something heard far away among the
+islands--the islands that await our coming in the west?--
+
+  _O land of red heather!_
+  _O land of wild weather,_
+_And the cry of the waves, and the laugh of the breeze!_
+  _O love, now, together_
+  _Through the wind and wild weather_
+_We spread our while sails to encounter the seas!_
+
+
+Up and out, laggards, now; and hoist this big red and blue and white
+thing up to the head of the tall pole that the lads far below may know
+to send the gig ashore for us!  And there, on the ruffled blue waters of
+the bay, behold! the noble _White Dove_, with her great mainsail, and
+mizzen, and jib, all set and glowing in the sun; and the scarlet caps of
+the men are like points of fire in this fair blue picture; and the red
+ensign is fluttering in the light north-westerly breeze.  Breakfast is
+hurried over; and a small person who has a passion for flowers is
+dashing hither and thither in the garden until she has amassed an armful
+of our old familiar friends--abundant roses, fuchsias, heart's-ease,
+various coloured columbine, and masses of southernwood to scent our
+floating saloon; the waggonette is at the door, to take our invalid down
+to the landing-slip; and the Laird has discarded his dignified costume,
+and appears in a shooting-coat and a vast gray wide-awake.  As for Mary
+Avon, she is laughing, chatting, singing, here, there, and
+everywhere--giving us to understand that a sprained ankle is rather a
+pleasure than otherwise, and a great assistance in walking; until the
+Laird pounces upon her--as one might pounce on a butterfly--and
+imprisons her in the waggonette, with many a serious warning about her
+imprudence.  There let her sing to herself as she likes--amid the wild
+confusion of things forgotten till the last moment and thrust upon us
+just as we start.
+
+And here is the stalwart and brown-bearded Captain John--John of Skye we
+call him--himself come ashore in the gig, in all his splendour of blue
+and brass buttons; and he takes off his peaked cap to the mistress of
+our household--whom some of her friends call Queen Titania, because of
+her midge-like size--and he says to her with a smile--
+
+"And will Mrs. ---- herself be going with us this time?"
+
+That is Captain John's chief concern: for he has a great regard for this
+domineering small woman; and shows his respect for her, and his own high
+notions of courtesy, by invariably addressing her in the third person.
+
+"Oh, yes, John!" says she--and she can look pleasant enough when she
+likes--"and this is a young friend of mine, Miss Avon, whom you have to
+take great care of on board."
+
+And Captain John takes off his cap again; and is understood to tell the
+young lady that he will do his best, if she will excuse his not knowing
+much English.  Then, with great care, and with some difficulty, Miss
+Avon is assisted down from the waggonette, and conducted along the rough
+little landing-slip, and helped into the stern of the shapely and
+shining gig.  Away with her, boys!  The splash of the oars is heard in
+the still bay; the shore recedes; the white sails seem to rise higher
+into the blue sky as we near the yacht; here is the black hull with its
+line of gold--the gangway open--the ropes ready--the white decks
+brilliant in the sun.  We are on board at last.
+
+"And where will Mr. ---- himself be for going?" asks John of Skye, as
+the men are hauling the gig up to the davits.
+
+Mr. ---- briefly but seriously explains to the captain that, from some
+slight experience of the winds on this coast, he has found it of about
+as much use to order the tides to be changed as to settle upon any
+definite route. But he suggests the circumnavigation of the adjacent
+island of Mull as a sort of preliminary canter for a few days, until a
+certain notable guest shall arrive; and he would prefer going by the
+south, if the honourable winds will permit.  Further, John of Skye is
+not to be afraid of a bit of sea, on account of either of those ladies;
+both are excellent sailors. With these somewhat vague instructions,
+Captain John is left to get the yacht under way; and we go below to look
+after the stowage of our things in the various staterooms.
+
+And what is this violent altercation going on, in the saloon?
+
+"I will not have a word said against my captain," says Mary Avon.  "I am
+in love with him already.  His English is perfectly correct."
+
+This impertinent minx talking about correct English in the presence of
+the Laird of Denny-mains!
+
+"Mrs. ---- herself is perfectly correct; it is only politeness; it is
+like saying 'Your Grace' to a Duke."
+
+But who was denying it?  Surely not the imperious little woman who was
+arranging her flowers on the saloon table; nor yet Denny-mains, who was
+examining a box of variegated and recondite fishing-tackle?
+
+"It is all very well for fine ladies to laugh at the blunders of servant
+maids," continues this audacious girl.  "'Miss Brown presents her
+compliments to Miss Smith; and would you be so kind,' and so on.  But
+don't they often make the same blunder themselves?"
+
+Well, this was a discovery!
+
+"Doesn't Mrs. So-and-So request the honour of the company of Mr.
+So-and-So or Miss So-and-So for some purpose or other; and then you find
+at one corner of the card '_R.S.V.P._?'  'Answer if YOU please'!"
+
+A painful silence prevailed.  We began to reflect.  Whom did she mean to
+charge with this deadly crime?
+
+But her triumph makes her considerate. She will not harry us with scorn.
+
+"It is becoming far less common now, however," she remarks.  "'An answer
+is requested,' is much more sensible."
+
+"It is English," says the Laird, with decision.  "Surely it must be more
+sensible for an English person to write English.  Ah never use a French
+word maself."
+
+But what is the English that we hear now--called out on deck by the
+voice of John of Skye?
+
+"Eachan, slack the lee topping-lift!  Ay, and the tackle, too.  That'll
+do, boys.  Down with your main-tack, now!"
+
+"Why," exclaims our sovereign mistress, who knows something of nautical
+matters, "we must have started!"
+
+Then there is a tumbling up the companion-way; and lo! the land is
+slowly leaving us; and there is a lapping of the blue water along the
+side of the boat; and the white sails of the _White Dove_ are filled
+with this gentle breeze.  Deck-stools are arranged; books and
+field-glasses and what not scattered about; Mary Avon is helped on deck,
+and ensconced in a snug little camp-chair.  The days of our summer
+idleness have begun.
+
+And as yet these are but familiar scenes that steal slowly by--the long
+green island of Lismore--_Lios-mor_, the Great Garden; the dark ruins of
+Duart, sombre as if the shadow of nameless tragedies rested on the
+crumbling walls; Loch Don, with its sea-bird-haunted shallows, and Loch
+Speliv leading up to the awful solitudes of Glen More; then, stretching
+far into the wreathing clouds, the long rampart of precipices, rugged
+and barren and lonely, that form the eastern wall of Mull.
+
+There is no monotony on this beautiful summer morning; the scene changes
+every moment, as the light breeze bears us away to the south.  For there
+is the Sheep Island; and Garveloch--which is the rough island; and
+Eilean-na naomha--which is the island of the Saints.  But what are these
+to the small transparent cloud resting on the horizon?--smaller than any
+man's hand.  The day is still; and the seas are smooth: cannot we hear
+the mermaiden singing on the far shores of Colonsay?
+
+"Colonsay!" exclaims the Laird, seizing a field-glass.  "Dear me!  Is
+that Colonsay? And they telled me that Tom Galbraith was going there
+this very year."
+
+The piece of news fails to startle us altogether; though we have heard
+the Laird speak of Mr. Galbraith before.
+
+"Ay," says he, "the world will know something o' Colonsay when Tom
+Galbraith gets there."
+
+"Whom did you say?" Miss Avon asks.
+
+"Why, Galbraith!" says he.  "Tom Galbraith!"
+
+The Laird stares in amazement.  Is it possible she has not heard of Tom
+Galbraith? And she herself an artist; and coming direct from Edinburgh,
+where she has been living for two whole months!
+
+"Gracious me!" says the Laird.  "Ye do not say ye have never heard of
+Galbraith--he's an Academeecian!--a Scottish Academeecian!"
+
+"Oh, yes; no doubt," she says, rather bewildered.
+
+"There is no one living has had such an influence on our Scotch school
+of painters as Galbraith--a man of great abeelity--a man of great and
+uncommon abeelity--he is one of the most famous landscape painters of
+our day----"
+
+"I scarcely met any one in Edinburgh," she pleads.
+
+"But in London--in London!" exclaims the astonished Laird.  "Do ye mean
+to say you never heard o' Tom Galbraith?"
+
+"I--I think not," she confesses.  "I--I don't remember his name in the
+Academy catalogue----"
+
+"The Royal Academy!" cries the Laird, with scorn.  "No, no!  Ye need not
+expect that.  The English Academy is afraid of the Scotchmen: their
+pictures are too strong: you do not put good honest whisky beside small
+beer.  I say the English Academy is afraid of the Scotch school----"
+
+But flesh and blood can stand this no longer: we shall not have Mary
+Avon trampled upon.
+
+"Look here, Denny-mains: we always thought there was a Scotchman or two
+in the Royal Academy itself--and quite capable of holding their own
+there, too.  Why, the President of the Academy is a Scotchman! And as
+for the Academy exhibition, the very walls are smothered with Scotch
+hills, Scotch spates, Scotch peasants, to say nothing of the thousand
+herring-smacks of Tarbert."
+
+"I tell ye they are afraid of Tom Galbraith; they will not exhibit one
+of his pictures," says the Laird, stubbornly; and here the discussion is
+closed; for Master Fred tinkles his bell below, and we have to go down
+for luncheon.
+
+It was most unfair of the wind to take advantage of our absence, and to
+sneak off, leaving us in a dead calm.  It was all very well, when we
+came on deck again, to watch the terns darting about in their
+swallow-like fashion, and swooping down to seize a fish; and the strings
+of sea-pyots whirring by, with their scarlet beaks and legs; and the
+sudden shimmer and hissing of a part of the blue plain, where a shoal of
+mackerel had come to the surface; but where were we, now in the open
+Atlantic, to pass the night? We relinquished the doubling of the Ross of
+Mull; we should have been content--more than content, for the sake of
+auld lang syne--to have put into Carsaig; we were beginning even to have
+ignominious thoughts of Loch Buy.  And yet we let the golden evening
+draw on with comparative resignation; and we watched the colour
+gathering in the west, and the Atlantic taking darker hues, and a ruddy
+tinge beginning to tell on the seamed ridges of Garveloch and the isle
+of Saints.  When the wind sprung up again--it had backed to due west,
+and we had to beat against it with a series of long tacks, that took us
+down within sight of Islay and back to Mull apparently all for
+nothing--we were deeply engaged in prophesying all manner of things to
+be achieved by one Angus Sutherland, an old friend of ours, though yet a
+young man enough.
+
+"Just fancy, sir!" says our hostess to the Laird--the Laird, by the way,
+does not seem so enthusiastic as the rest of us, when he hears that this
+hero of modern days is about to join our party.  "What he has done beats
+all that I ever heard about Scotch University students; and you know
+what some of them have accomplished in the face of difficulties.  His
+father is a minister in some small place in Banffshire; perhaps he has
+200*l.* a year at the outside.  This son of his has not cost him a
+farthing for either his maintenance or his education, since he was
+fourteen; he took bursaries, scholarships, I don't know what, when he
+was a mere lad; supported himself and travelled all over Europe--but I
+think it was at Leipsic and at Vienna he studied longest; and the papers
+he has written--the lectures--and the correspondence with all the great
+scientific people--when they made him a Fellow, all he said was, 'I wish
+my mother was alive.'"
+
+This was rather an incoherent and jumbled account of a young man's
+career.
+
+"A Fellow of what?" says the Laird.
+
+"A Fellow of the Royal Society!  They made him a Fellow of the Royal
+Society last year!  And he is only seven-and-twenty!  I do believe he
+was not over one-and-twenty when he took his degree at Edinburgh.  And
+then--and then--there is really nothing that he doesn't know: is there,
+Mary?"
+
+This sudden appeal causes Mary Avon to flush slightly; but she says
+demurely, looking down--
+
+"Of course I don't know anything that he doesn't know."
+
+"Hm!" says the Laird, who does not seem over pleased.  "I have observed
+that young men who are too brilliant at the first, seldom come to much
+afterwards.  Has he gained anything substantial?  Has he a good
+practice? Does he keep his carriage yet?"
+
+"No, no!" says our hostess, with a fine contempt for such things.  "He
+has a higher ambition than that.  His practice is almost nothing.  He
+prefers to sacrifice that in the meantime.  But his reputation--among
+the scientific--why--why, it is European!"
+
+"Hm!" says the Laird.  "I have sometimes seen that persons who gave
+themselves up to erudeetion, lost the character of human beings
+altogether.  They become scientific machines.  The world is just made up
+of books for them--and lectures--they would not give a halfpenny to a
+beggar for fear of poleetical economy----"
+
+"Oh, how can you say such a thing of Angus Sutherland!" says she--though
+he has said no such thing of Angus Sutherland. "Why, here is this girl
+who goes to Edinburgh--all by herself--to nurse an old woman in her last
+illness; and as Angus Sutherland is in Edinburgh on some
+business--connected with the University, I believe--I ask him to call on
+her and see if he can give her any advice. What does he do?  He stops in
+Edinburgh two months--editing that scientific magazine there instead of
+in London--and all because he has taken an interest in the old woman and
+thinks that Mary should not have the whole responsibility on her
+shoulders.  Is that like a scientific machine?"
+
+"No," says the Laird, with a certain calm grandeur; "you do not often
+find young men doing that for the sake of an old woman."  But of course
+we don't know what he means.
+
+"And I am so glad he is coming to us!" she says, with real delight in
+her face.  "We shall take him away from his microscopes, and his
+societies, and all that.  Oh, and he is such a delightful companion--so
+simple, and natural, and straightforward!  Don't you think so, Mary?"
+
+Mary Avon is understood to assent: she does not say much--she is so
+deeply interested in a couple of porpoises that appear from time to time
+on the smooth plain on the sea.
+
+"I am sure a long holiday would do him a world of good," says this eager
+hostess; "but that is too much to expect.  He is always too busy.  I
+think he has got to go over to Italy soon, about some exhibition of
+surgical instruments, or something of that sort."
+
+We had plenty of further talk about Dr. Sutherland, and of the wonderful
+future that lay before him, that evening before we finally put into Loch
+Buy.  And there we dined; and after dinner we found the wan, clear
+twilight filling the northern heavens, over the black range of
+mountains, and throwing a silver glare on the smooth sea around us.  We
+could have read on deck at eleven at night---had that been necessary;
+but Mary Avon was humming snatches of songs to us, and the Laird was
+discoursing of the wonderful influence exerted on Scotch landscape-art
+by Tom Galbraith. Then in the south the yellow moon rose; and a golden
+lane of light lay on the sea, from the horizon across to the side of the
+yacht; and there was a strange glory on the decks and on the tall,
+smooth masts.  The peace of that night!--the soft air, the silence, the
+dreamy lapping of the water!
+
+"And whatever lies before Angus Sutherland," says one of us--"whether a
+baronetcy, or a big fortune, or marriage with an Italian princess--he
+won't find anything better than sailing in the _White Dove_ among the
+western islands."
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER IV.*
+
+                              *A MESSAGE.*
+
+
+What fierce commotion is this that awakes us in the morning--what
+pandemonium broken loose of wild storm-sounds---with the stately _White
+Dove_, ordinarily the most sedate and gentle of her sex, apparently gone
+mad, and flinging herself about as if bent on somersaults?  When one
+clambers up the companion-way, clinging hard, and puts one's head out
+into the gale, behold! there is not a trace of land visible
+anywhere--nothing but whirling clouds of mist and rain; and
+mountain-masses of waves that toss the _White Dove_ about as if she were
+a plaything; and decks all running wet with the driven spray.  John of
+Skye, clad from head to heel in black oilskins--and at one moment up in
+the clouds, the next moment descending into the great trough of the
+sea---hangs on to the rope that is twisted round the tiller; and laughs
+a good-morning; and shakes the salt water from his shaggy eyebrows and
+beard.
+
+"Hallo!  John--where on earth have we got to?"
+
+"Ay, ay, sir."
+
+"I say WHERE ARE WE?" is shouted, for the roar of the rushing Atlantic
+in deafening.
+
+"'Deed I not think we are far from Loch Buy," says John of Skye, grimly.
+"The wind is dead ahead of us--ay, shist dead ahead!"
+
+"What made you come out against a headwind then?"
+
+"When we cam' out," says John--picking his English, "the wind will be
+from the norse--ay, a fine light breeze from the norse.  And will Mr.
+---- himself be for going on now? it is a ferry bad sea for the
+leddies--a ferry coorse sea."
+
+But it appears that this conversation--bawled aloud--has been overheard.
+There are voices from below.  The skylight of the ladies' cabin is
+partly open.
+
+"Don't mind us," calls Mary Avon.  "Go on by all means!"
+
+The other voice calls--
+
+"Why can't you keep this fool of a boat straight?  Ask him when we shall
+be into the Sound of Iona."
+
+One might as well ask him when we shall be into the Sound of Jericho or
+Jerusalem. With half a gale of wind right in our teeth, and with the
+heavy Atlantic swell running, we might labour here all day--and all the
+night too--without getting round the Ross of Mull. There is nothing for
+it but to turn and run, that we may have our breakfast in peace.  Let
+her away, then, you brave John of Skye!--slack out the main-sheet, and
+give her plenty of it, too: then at the same moment Sandy from Islay
+perceives that a haul at the weather topping-lift will clear the boom
+from the davits; and now--and now, good Master Fred--our much-esteemed
+and shifty Friedrich d'or--if you will but lay the cloth on the table,
+we will help you to steady the dancing phantasmagoria of plates and
+forks!
+
+"Dear me!" says the Laird, when we are assembled together, "it has been
+an awful night!"
+
+"Oh, I hope you have not been ill!" says his hostess, with a quick
+concern in the soft, clear eyes.
+
+He does not look as if he had suffered much.  He is contentedly chipping
+an egg; and withal keeping an eye on the things near him, for the _White
+Dove_, still plunging a good deal, threatens at times to make of
+everything on the table a movable feast.
+
+"Oh, no, ma'am, not ill," he says.  "But at my time of life, ye see, one
+is not as light in weight as one used to be; and the way I was flung
+about in that cabin last night was just extraordinary.  When I was
+trying to put on my boots this morning, I am sure I resembled nothing so
+much as a pea in a bladder--indeed it was so--I was knocked about like a
+pea in a bladder."
+
+Of course we expressed great sympathy, and assured him that the _White
+Dove_--famed all along this coast for her sober and steady-going
+behaviour--would never act so any more.
+
+"However," said he thoughtfully, "the wakefulness of the night is often
+of use to people.  Yes, I have come to a decision."
+
+We were somewhat alarmed: was he going to leave us merely because of
+this bit of tossing?
+
+"I dare say ye know, ma'am," says he slowly, "that I am one of the
+Commissioners of the Burgh of Strathgovan.  It is a poseetion of grave
+responsibility.  This very question now--about our getting a steam
+fire-engine--has been weighing on my mind for many a day.  Well, I have
+decided I will no longer oppose it.  They may have the steam fire-engine
+as far as I am concerned."
+
+We felt greatly relieved.
+
+"Yes," continued the Laird, solemnly, "I think I am doing my duty in
+this matter as a public man should--laying aside his personal prejudice.
+But the cost of it!  Do ye know that we shall want bigger nozzles to all
+the fire-plugs?"
+
+Matters were looking grave again.
+
+"However," said the Laird cheerfully--for he would not depress us too
+much, "it may all turn out for the best; and I will telegraph my
+decision to Strathgovan as soon as ever the storm allows us to reach a
+port."
+
+The storm, indeed!  When we scramble up on deck again, we find that it
+is only a brisk sailing breeze we have; and the _White Dove_ is bowling
+merrily along, flinging high the white spray from her bows.  And then we
+begin to see that, despite those driving mists around us, there is
+really a fine clear summer day shining far above this twopenny-halfpenny
+tempest.  The whirling mists break here and there; and we catch glimpses
+of a placid blue sky, flecked with lines of motionless cirrhus cloud.
+The breaks increase; floods of sunshine fall on the gleaming decks;
+clearer and clearer become the vast precipices of southern Mull; and
+then, when we get well to the lee of Eilean-straid-ean, behold! the blue
+seas around us once more; and the blue skies overhead; and the red
+ensign fluttering in the summer breeze.  No wonder that Mary Avon sings
+her delight--as a linnet sings after the rain; and though the song is
+not meant for us at all, but is really hummed to herself as she clings
+on to the shrouds and watches the flashing and dipping of the
+white-winged gulls, we know that it is all about a jolly young waterman.
+The audacious creature: John of Skye has a wife and four children.
+
+Too quickly indeed does the fair summer day go by--as we pass the old
+familiar Duart and begin to beat up the Sound of Mull against a fine
+light sailing breeze.  By the time we have reached Ardtornish, the Laird
+has acquired some vague notion as to how the gaff topsail is set.
+Opposite the dark-green woods of Funeray, he tells us of the
+extraordinary faculty possessed by Tom Galbraith of representing the
+texture of foliage. At Salen we have Master Fred's bell summoning us
+down to lunch; and thereafter, on deck, coffee, draughts, crochet, and a
+profoundly interesting description of some of the knotty points in the
+great Semple heresy case. And here again, as we bear away over almost to
+the mouth of Loch Sunart, is the open Atlantic--of a breezy grey under
+the lemon-colour and silver of the calm evening sky. What is the use of
+going on against this contrary wind, and missing, in the darkness of the
+night, all the wonders of the western islands that the Laird is anxious
+to see?  We resolve to run into Tobermory; and by and by we find
+ourselves under the shadow of the wooded rocks, with the little white
+town shining along the semicircle of the bay.  And very cleverly indeed
+does John of Skye cut in among the various craft--showing off a little
+bit, perhaps--until the _White Dove_ is brought up to the wind, and the
+great anchor-cable goes out with a roar.
+
+Now it was by the merest accident that we got at Tobermory a telegram
+that had been forwarded that very day to meet us on our return voyage.
+There was no need for any one to go ashore, for we were scarcely in port
+before a most praiseworthy gentleman was so kind as to send us on board
+a consignment of fresh flowers, vegetables, milk, eggs, and so
+forth--the very things that become of inestimable value to yachting
+people.  However, we had two women on board; and of course--despite a
+certain bandaged ankle--they must needs go shopping.  And Mary Avon,
+when we got ashore, would buy some tobacco for her favourite Captain
+John; and went into the post-office for that purpose, and was having the
+black stuff measured out by the yard when some mention was made of the
+_White Dove_. Then a question was asked; there was a telegram; it was
+handed to Miss Avon, who opened it and read it.
+
+"Oh!" said she, looking rather concerned; and then she regarded her
+friend with some little hesitation.
+
+"It is my uncle," she says; "he wants to see me on very urgent business.
+He is--coming--to see me--the day after to-morrow."
+
+Blank consternation followed this announcement. This person, even though
+he was Mary Avon's sole surviving relative, was quite intolerable to us.
+East Wind we had called him in secret, on the few occasions on which he
+had darkened our doors.  And just as we were making up our happy family
+party--with the Laird, and Mary, and Angus Sutherland--to sail away to
+the far Hebrides, here was this insufferable creature--with his raucous
+voice, his washed-out eyes, his pink face, his uneasy manner, and
+general groom or butler-like appearance--thrusting himself on us!
+
+"Well, you know, Mary," says her hostess--entirely concealing her dismay
+in her anxious politeness--"we shall almost certainly be home by the day
+after to-morrow, if we get any wind at all.  So you had better telegraph
+to your uncle to come on to Castle Osprey, and to wait for you if you
+are not there; we cannot be much longer than that. And Angus Sutherland
+will be there; he will keep him company until we arrive."
+
+So that was done, and we went on board again--one of us meanwhile vowing
+to himself that ere ever Mr. Frederick Smethurst set sail with us on
+board the _White Dove_, a rifle-bullet through her hull would send that
+gallant vessel to the lobsters.
+
+Now what do you think our Mary Avon set to work to do--all during this
+beautiful summer evening, as we sat on deck and eyed curiously the other
+craft in the bay, or watched the firs grow dark against the
+silver-yellow twilight?  We could not at first make out what she was
+driving at.  Her occupation in the world, so far as she had any--beyond
+being the pleasantest of companions and the faithfullest of friends--was
+the painting of landscapes in oil, not the construction of Frankenstein
+monsters.  But here she begins by declaring to us that there is one type
+of character that has never been described by any satirist, or
+dramatist, or fictionist--a common type, too, though only becoming
+pronounced in rare instances.  It is the moral Tartuffe, she
+declares--the person who is through and through a hypocrite, not to
+cloak evil doings, but only that his eager love of approbation may be
+gratified.  Look now how this creature of diseased vanity, of plausible
+manners, of pretentious humbug, rises out of the smoke like the figure
+summoned by a wizard's wand!  As she gives us little touches here and
+there of the ways of this professor of bonhomie--this bundle of
+affectations--we begin to prefer the most diabolical villainy that any
+thousand of the really wicked Tartuffes could have committed.  He grows
+and grows.  His scraps of learning, as long as those more ignorant than
+himself are his audience; his mock humility anxious for praise; his
+parade of generous and sententious sentiment; his
+pretence--pretence--pretence--all arising from no evil machinations
+whatever, but from a morbid and restless craving for esteem.  Hence,
+horrible shadow! Let us put out the candles and get to bed.
+
+But next morning, as we find ourselves out on the blue Atlantic again,
+with Ru-na-Gaul lighthouse left far behind, and the pale line of Coll at
+the horizon, we begin to see why the skill and patient assiduity of this
+amateur psychologist should have raised that ghost for us the night
+before.  Her uncle is coming. He is not one of the plausible kind.  And
+if it should be necessary to invite him on board, might we not the more
+readily tolerate his cynical bluntness and rudeness, after we have been
+taught to abhor as the hatefullest of mortals the well-meaning hypocrite
+whose vanity makes his life a bundle of small lies? Very clever indeed,
+Miss Avon--very clever. But don't you raise any more ghosts; they are
+unpleasant company--even as an antidote. And now, John of Skye, if it
+must be that we are to encounter this pestilent creature at the end of
+our voyage, clap on all sail now, and take us right royally down through
+these far islands of the west.  Ah! do we not know them of old?  Soon as
+we get round the Cailleach Point we descry the nearest of them amid the
+loneliness of the wide Atlantic sea. For there is Carnaburg, with her
+spur of rock; and Fladda, long and rugged, and bare; and Lunga, with her
+peak; and the Dutchman's Cap--a pale blue in the south.  How bravely the
+_White Dove_ swings on her way--springing like a bird over the western
+swell!  And as we get past Ru-Treshnish, behold! another group of
+islands--Gometra and the green-shored Ulva, that guard the entrance to
+Loch Tua; and Colonsay, the haunt of the sea birds; and the rock of
+Erisgeir--all shining in the sun.  And then we hear a strange
+sound--different from the light rush of the waves--a low, and sullen,
+and distant booming, such as one faintly hears in a sea-shell. As the
+_White Dove_ ploughs on her way, we come nearer and nearer to this
+wonder of the deep--the ribbed and fantastic shores of Staffa; and we
+see how the great Atlantic rollers, making for the cliffs of Gribun and
+Burg, are caught by those outer rocks and torn into masses of white
+foam, and sent roaring and thundering into the blackness of the caves.
+We pass close by; the air trembles with the shock of that mighty surge;
+there is a mist of spray rising into the summer air.  And then we sail
+away again; and the day wears on as the white-winged _White Dove_ bounds
+over the heavy seas; and Mary Avon--as we draw near the Ross of Mull,
+all glowing in the golden evening--is singing a song of Ulva.
+
+But there is no time for romance, as the _White Dove_ (drawing eight
+feet of water) makes in for the shallow harbour outside Bunessan.
+
+"Down foresail!" calls out our John of Skye; and by and by her head
+comes up to the wind, the great mainsail flapping in the breeze.  And
+again, "Down chub, boys!" and there is another rattle and roar amid the
+silence of this solitary little bay.  The herons croak their fright and
+fly away on heavy wing; the curlews whistle shrilly; the sea-pyots whirr
+along the lonely shores.  And then our good Friedrich d'or sounds his
+silver-toned bell.
+
+The stillness of this summer evening on deck; the glory deepening over
+the wide Atlantic; the delightful laughter of the Laird over those "good
+ones" about Homesh; the sympathetic glance of Mary Avon's soft black
+eyes: did we not value them all the more that we knew we had something
+far different to look forward to?  Even as we idled away the beautiful
+and lambent night, we had a vague consciousness that our enemy was
+stealthily drawing near.  In a day or two at the most we should find the
+grim spectre of the East Wind in the rose-garden of Castle Osprey.
+
+
+
+
+                              *CHAPTER V.*
+
+                           *A BRAVE CAREER.*
+
+
+Bur when we went on deck the next morning we forgot all about the
+detestable person who was about to break in upon our peace (there was
+small chance that our faithful Angus Sutherland might encounter the
+snake in this summer paradise, and trample on him, and pitch him out;
+for this easy way of getting rid of disagreeable folk is not permitted
+in the Highlands nowadays) as we looked on the beautiful bay shining all
+around us.
+
+"Dear me!" said Denny-mains, "if Tom Galbraith could only see that now!
+It is a great peety he has never been to this place. I'm thinking I must
+write to him."
+
+The Laird did not remember that we had an artist on board--one who, if
+she was not so great an artist as Mr. Galbraith, had at least exhibited
+one or two small landscapes in oil at the Royal Academy.  But then the
+Academicians, though they might dread the contrast between their own
+work and that of Tom Galbraith, could have no fear of Mary Avon.
+
+And even Mr. Galbraith himself might have been puzzled to find among his
+pigments any equivalent for the rare and clear colours of this morning
+scene as now we sailed away from Bunessan with a light topsail breeze.
+How blue the day was--blue skies, blue seas, a faint transparent blue
+along the cliffs of Burg and Gribun, a darker blue where the far
+Ru-Treshanish ran out into the sea, a shadow of blue to mark where the
+caves of Staffa retreated from the surface of the sun-brown rocks!  And
+here, nearer at hand, the warmer colours of the shore--the soft, velvety
+olive-greens of the moss and breckan; the splashes of lilac where the
+rocks were bare of herbage; the tender sunny reds where the granite
+promontories ran out to the sea; the beautiful cream-whites of the sandy
+bays!
+
+Here, too, are the islands again as we get out into the open--Gometra,
+with its one white house at the point; and Inch Kenneth, where the seals
+show their shining black heads among the shallows; and Erisgeir and
+Colonsay, where the skarts alight to dry their wings on the rocks; and
+Staffa, and Lunga, and the Dutchman, lying peaceful enough now on the
+calm blue seas.  We have time to look at them, for the wind is slight,
+and the broad-beamed _White Dove_ is not a quick sailer in a light
+breeze.  The best part of the forenoon is over before we find ourselves
+opposite to the gleaming white sands of the northern bays of Iona.
+
+"But surely both of us together will be able to make him stay longer
+than ten days," says the elder of the two women to the younger--and you
+may be sure she was not speaking of East Wind.
+
+Mary Avon looks up with a start; then looks down again--perhaps with the
+least touch of colour in her face--as she says hurriedly--
+
+"Oh, I think you will.  He is your friend. As for me--you see--I--I
+scarcely know him."
+
+"Oh, Mary!" says the other reproachfully. "You have been meeting him
+constantly all these two months; you must know him better than any of
+us.  I am sure I wish he was on board now--he could tell us all about
+the geology of the islands, and what not.  It will be delightful to have
+somebody on board who knows something."
+
+Such is the gratitude of women!--and the Laird had just been describing
+to her some further points of the famous heresy case.
+
+"And then he knows Gaelic!" says the elder woman.  "He will tell us what
+all the names of the islands mean."
+
+"Oh, yes," says the younger one, "he understands Gaelic very well,
+though he cannot speak much of it."
+
+"And I think he is very fond of boats," remarks our hostess.
+
+"Oh, exceedingly--exceedingly!" says the other, who, if she does not
+know Angus Sutherland, seems to have picked up some information about
+him somehow.  "You cannot imagine how he has been looking forward to
+sailing with you; he has scarcely had any holiday for years."
+
+"Then he must stay longer than ten days," says the elder woman; adding
+with a smile, "you know, Mary, it is not the number of his patients that
+will hurry him back to London."
+
+"Oh, but I assure you," says Miss Avon seriously, "that he is not at all
+anxious to have many patients--as yet!  Oh, no!--I never knew any one
+who was so indifferent about money.  I know he would live on bread and
+water--if that were necessary--to go on with his researches.  He told me
+himself that all the time he was at Leipsic his expenses were never more
+than 1*l.* a week."
+
+She seemed to know a good deal about the circumstances of this young
+F.R.S.
+
+"Look at what he has done with those an�sthetics," continues Miss Avon.
+"Isn't it better to find out something that does good to the whole world
+than give yourself up to making money by wheedling a lot of old women?"
+
+This estimate of the physician's art was not flattering.
+
+"But," she says warmly, "if the Government had any sense, that is just
+the sort of man they would put in a position to go on with his
+invaluable work.  And Oxford and Cambridge, with all their wealth, they
+scarcely even recognise the noblest profession that a man can devote
+himself to--when even the poor Scotch Universities and the Universities
+all over Europe have always had their medical and scientific chairs.  I
+think it is perfectly disgraceful!"
+
+Since when had she become so strenuous an advocate of the endowment of
+research?
+
+"Why, look at Dr. Sutherland--when he is burning to get on with his own
+proper work--when his name is beginning to be known all over Europe--he
+has to fritter away his time in editing a scientific magazine and in
+those hospital lectures.  And that, I suppose, is barely enough to live
+on.  But I know," she says, with decision, "that in spite of
+everything--I know that before he is five-and-thirty, he will be
+President of the British Association."
+
+Here, indeed, is a brave career for the Scotch student: cannot one
+complete the sketch as it roughly exists in the minds of those two
+women?
+
+At twenty-one, B.M. of Edinburgh.
+
+At twenty-six, F.R.S.
+
+At thirty, Professor of Biology at Oxford: the chair founded through the
+intercession of the women of Great Britain.
+
+At thirty-five, President of the British Association.
+
+At forty, a baronetcy, for further discoveries in the region of
+an�sthetics.
+
+At forty-five, consulting physician to half the gouty old gentlemen of
+England, and amassing an immense fortune.
+
+At fifty----
+
+Well, at fifty, is it not time that "the poor Scotch student," now
+become great and famous and wealthy, should look around for some
+beautiful princess to share his high estate with him?  He has not had
+time before to think of such matters.  But what is this now?  Is it that
+microscopes and test-tubes have dimmed his eyes?  Is it that honours and
+responsibilities have silvered his hair?  Or, is the drinking deep of
+the Pactolus stream a deadly poison?  There is no beautiful princess
+awaiting him anywhere.  He is alone among his honours.  There was once a
+beautiful princess--beautiful-souled and tender-eyed, if not otherwise
+too lovely--awaiting him among the Western Seas; but that time is over
+and gone many a year ago.  The opportunity has passed. Ambition called
+him away, and he left her; and the last he saw of her was when he bade
+good-bye to the _White Dove_.
+
+What have we to do with these idle dreams? We are getting within sight
+of Iona village now; and the sun is shining on the green shores, and on
+the ruins of the old cathedral, and on that white house just above the
+cornfield.  And as there is no good anchorage about the island, we have
+to make in for a little creek on the Mull side of the Sound, called
+Polterriv, or the Bull-hole; and this creek is narrow, tortuous, and
+shallow; and a yacht drawing eight feet of water has to be guided with
+some circumspection--especially if you go up to the inner harbour above
+the rock called the Little Bull.  And so we make inquiries of John of
+Skye, who has not been with us here before.  It is even hinted, that if
+he is not quite sure of the channel, we might send the gig over to Iona
+for John Macdonald, who is an excellent pilot.
+
+"John Macdonald!" exclaims John of Skye, whose professional pride has
+been wounded. "Will John Macdonald be doing anything more than I wass do
+myself in the Bull-hole--ay, last year--last year I will tek my own
+smack out of the Bull-hole at the norse end, and ferry near low water,
+too; and her deep-loaded?  Oh, yes, I will be knowing the Bull-hole this
+many a year."
+
+And John of Skye is as good as his word. Favoured by a flood-tide, we
+steal gently into the unfrequented creek, behind the great rocks of red
+granite; and so extraordinarily clear is the water that, standing
+upright on the deck, we can see the white sand of the bottom with shoals
+of young saithe darting this way and that.  And then just as we get
+opposite an opening in the rocks, through which we can descry the
+northern shores of Iona, and above those the blue peak of the Dutchman,
+away goes the anchor with a short, quick rush; her head swings round to
+meet the tide; the _White Dove_ is safe from all the winds that blow.
+Now lower away the gig, boys, and bear us over the blue waters of the
+Sound!
+
+"I am really afraid to begin," Mary Avon says, as we remonstrate with
+her for not having touched a colour-tube since she started. "Besides,
+you know, I scarcely look on it that we have really set out yet.  This
+is only a sort of shaking ourselves into our places; I am only getting
+accustomed to the ways of our cabin now.  I shall scarcely consider that
+we have started on our real voyaging until----"
+
+Oh, yes, we know very well.  Until we have got Angus Sutherland on
+board.  But what she really said was, after slight hesitation:
+
+"----until we set out for the Northern Hebrides."
+
+"Ay, it's a good thing to feel nervous about beginning," says the Laird,
+as the long sweep of the four oars brings us nearer and nearer to the
+Iona shores.  "I have often heard Tom Galbraith say that to the younger
+men.  He says if a young man is over confident, he'll come to nothing.
+But there was a good one I once heard Galbraith tell about a young man
+that was pentin at Tarbert--that's Tarbert on Loch Fyne, Miss Avon.  Ay,
+well, he was pentin away, and he was putting in the young lass of the
+house as a fisher-lass; and he asked her if she could not get a creel to
+strap on her back, as a background for her head, ye know.  Well, says
+she----"
+
+Here the fierce humour of the story began to bubble up in the Laird's
+blue-grey eyes. We were all half laughing already.  It was impossible to
+resist the glow of delight on the Laird's face.
+
+"Says she--just as pat as ninepence--says she, 'it's your ain head that
+wants a creel!'"
+
+The explosion was inevitable.  The roar of laughter at this good one was
+so infectious that a subdued smile played over the rugged features of
+John of Skye.  "_It's your ain head that wants a creel:_" the Laird
+laughed, and laughed again, until the last desperately suppressed sounds
+were something like _kee! kee! kee!_  Even Mary Avon pretended to
+understand.
+
+"There was a real good one," says he, obviously overjoyed to have so
+appreciative an audience, "that I mind of reading in the Dean's
+_Reminiscences_.  It was about an old leddy in Edinburgh who met in a
+shop a young officer she had seen before.  He was a tall young man, and
+she eyed him from head to heel, and says she--ha! ha!--says she, '_Od,
+ye're a lang lad: God gie ye grace._'  Dry--very dry--wasn't it?  There
+was real humour in that--a pawky humour that people in the South cannot
+understand at all.  '_Od_', says she, '_ye're a lang lad: God grant ye
+grace._'  There was a great dale of character in that."
+
+We were sure of it; but still we preferred the Laird's stories about
+Homesh.  We invariably liked best the stories at which the Laird laughed
+most--whether we quite understood their pawky humour or not.
+
+"Dr. Sutherland has a great many stories about the Highlanders," says
+Miss Avon timidly; "they are very amusing."
+
+"As far as I have observed," remarked the Laird--for how could he relish
+the notion of having a rival anecdote-monger on board?--"as far as I
+have observed, the Highland character is entirely without humour.  Ay, I
+have heard Tom Galbraith say that very often, and he has been everywhere
+in the Highlands."
+
+"Well, then," says Mary Avon, with a quick warmth of indignation in her
+face--how rapidly those soft dark eyes could change their
+expression!--"I hope Mr. Galbraith knows more about painting than he
+knows about the Highlanders!  I thought that anybody who knows anything
+knows that the Celtic nature is full of imagination, and humour, and
+pathos, and poetry; and the Saxon--the Saxon!--it is his business to
+plod over ploughed fields, and be as dull and commonplace as the other
+animals he sees there!"
+
+Gracious goodness!--here was a tempest! The Laird was speechless; for,
+indeed, at this moment we bumped against the sacred shores--that is to
+say, the landing-slip--of Iona; and had to scramble on to the big
+stones.  Then we walked up and past the cottages, and through the
+potato-field, and past the white inn, and so to the hallowed shrine and
+its graves of the kings.  We spent the whole of the afternoon there.
+
+When we got back to the yacht and to dinner we discovered that a friend
+had visited us in our absence, and had left of his largesse behind
+him--nasturtiums and yellow-and-white pansies, and what not--to say
+nothing of fresh milk, and crisp, delightful lettuce.  We drank his
+health.
+
+Was it the fear of some one breaking in on our domestic peace that made
+that last evening among the western islands so lovely to us?  We went
+out in the gig after dinner; the Laird put forth his engines of
+destruction to encompass the innocent lythe; we heard him humming the
+"Haughs o' Cromdale" in the silence.  The wonderful glory of that
+evening!--Iona become an intense olive-green against the gold and
+crimson of the sunset; the warm light shining along the red granite of
+western Mull.  Then the yellow moon rose in the south--into the calm
+violet-hued vault of the heavens; and there was a golden fire on the
+ripples and on the wet blades of the oars as we rowed back with laughter
+and singing.
+
+_Sing tantara! sing tantara!_
+_Sing tantara! sing tantara!_
+  _Said he, the Highland army rues_
+  _That ere they came to Cromdale!_
+
+
+And then, next morning, we were up at five o'clock.  If we were going to
+have a tooth pulled, why not have the little interview over at once?
+East Wind would be waiting for us at Castle Osprey.
+
+Blow, soft westerly breeze, then, and bear us down by Fion-phort, and
+round the granite Ross--shining all a pale red in the early dawn. And
+here is Ardalanish Point; and there, as the morning goes by, are the
+Carsaig arches, and then Loch Buy, and finally the blue Firth of Lorn.
+Northward now, and still northward--until, far away, the white house
+shining amidst the firs, and the flag fluttering in the summer air.
+Have they descried us, then? Or is the bunting hoisted in honour of
+guests? The pale cheek of Mary Avon tells a tale as she descries that
+far signal; but that is no business of ours.  Perhaps it is only of her
+uncle that she is thinking.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER VI.*
+
+                           *OUR NEW GUESTS.*
+
+
+Behold, now!--this beautiful garden of Castle Osprey all ablaze in the
+sun--the roses, pansies, poppies, and what not bewildering our eyes
+after the long looking at the blue water and, in the midst of the
+brilliant paradise--just as we had feared--the snake!  He did not scurry
+away at our approach, as snakes are wont to do; or raise his horrent
+head, and hiss.  The fact is, we found him comfortably seated under a
+drooping ash, smoking.  He rose and explained that he had strolled up
+from the shore to await our coming.  He did not seem to notice that Mary
+Avon, as she came along, had to walk slowly, and was leaning on the arm
+of the Laird.
+
+Certainly nature had not been bountiful to this short, spare person who
+had now come among us.  He had closely-cropped, coarse grey hair; an
+eagle beak; a certain pink and raw appearance of the face, as if
+perpetual east winds had chafed the skin; and a most pernicious habit of
+loudly clearing his husky throat. Then with the aggressive nose went a
+well-defined pugilist's jaw and a general hang-dog scowl about the
+mouth.  For the rest Mr. Smethurst seemed desirous of making up for
+those unpleasant features which nature had bestowed upon him by a
+studied air of self-possession, and by an extreme precision of dress.
+Alack, and well-a-day! these laudable efforts were of little avail.
+Nature was too strong for him.  The assumption of a languid air was not
+quite in consonance with the ferrety grey eyes and the bull-dog mouth;
+the precision of his costume only gave him the look of a well-dressed
+groom, or a butler gone on the turf.  There was not much grateful to the
+sight about Mr. Frederick Smethurst.
+
+But were we to hate the man for being ugly? Despite his raw face, he
+might have the white soul of an angel.  And in fact we knew absolutely
+nothing against his public character or private reputation, except that
+he had once gone through the Bankruptcy Court; and even of that little
+circumstance our womenfolk were not aware.  However, there was no doubt
+at all that a certain coldness--apparent to us who knew her well--marked
+the manner of this small lady who now went up and shook hands with him,
+and declared--unblushingly--that she was so glad he had run up to the
+Highlands.
+
+"And you know," said she, with that charming politeness which she would
+show to the arch-fiend himself if he were properly introduced to her,
+"you know, Mr. Smethurst, that yachting is such an uncertain thing, one
+never knows when one may get back; but if you could spare a few days to
+take a run with us, you would see what a capital mariner Mary has
+become, and I am sure it would be a great pleasure to us."
+
+These were actually her words.  She uttered them without the least
+tremor of hesitation. She looked him straight in the face with those
+clear, innocent, confiding eyes of hers.  How could the man tell that
+she was wishing him at Jericho?
+
+And it was in silence that we waited to hear our doom pronounced.  A
+yachting trip with this intolerable Jonah on board! The sunlight went
+out of the day; the blue went out of the sky and the seas; the world was
+filled with gloom, and chaos, and East Wind!
+
+Imagine, then, the sudden joy with which we heard of our deliverance!
+Surely it was not the raucous voice of Frederick Smethurst, but a sound
+of summer bells.
+
+"Oh, thank you," he said, in his affectedly indifferent way; "but the
+fact is, I have run up to see Mary only on a little matter of business,
+and I must get back at once.  Indeed, I purpose leaving by the Dalmally
+coach in the afternoon.  Thank you very much, though; perhaps some other
+time I may be more fortunate."
+
+How we had wronged this poor man!  We hated him no longer.  On the
+contrary, great grief was expressed over his departure; and he was
+begged at least to stay that one evening.  No doubt he had heard of Dr.
+Angus Sutherland, who had made such discoveries in the use of
+an�sthetics? Dr. Sutherland was coming by the afternoon steamer.  Would
+not he stay and meet him at dinner?
+
+Our tears broke out afresh--metaphorically--when East Wind persisted in
+his intention of departure; but of course compulsion was out of the
+question.  And so we allowed him to go into the house, to have that
+business interview with his niece.
+
+"A poor crayture!" remarked the Laird confidently, forgetting that he
+was talking of a friend of ours.  "Why does he not speak out like a man,
+instead of drawling and dawdling? His accent is jist insufferable."
+
+"And what business can he have with Mary?" says our sovereign lady
+sharply--just as if a man with a raw skin and an eagle-beak must
+necessarily be a pickpocket. "He was the trustee of that little fortune
+of hers, I know; but that is all over.  She got the money when she came
+of age.  What can he want to see her about now?"
+
+We concerned ourselves not with that.  It was enough for us that the
+snake was about to retreat from our summer paradise of his own free will
+and pleasure.  And Angus Sutherland was coming; and the provisioning of
+the yacht had to be seen to; for to-morrow--to-morrow we spread our
+white wings again and take flight to the far north!
+
+Never was parting guest so warmly speeded. We concealed our tears as the
+coach rolled away.  We waved a hand to him.  And then, when it was
+suggested that the wagonette that had brought Mary Avon down from Castle
+Osprey might just as well go along to the quay--for the steamer bringing
+Dr. Sutherland would be in shortly--and when we actually did set out in
+that direction, there was so little grief on our faces that you could
+not have told we had been bidding farewell to a valued friend and
+relative.
+
+Now if our good-hearted Laird had had a grain of jealousy in his nature,
+he might well have resented the manner in which these two women spoke of
+the approaching guest.  In their talk the word "he" meant only one
+person.  "He" was sure to come by this steamer.  "He" was so punctual in
+his engagements.  Would he bring a gun or a rod; or would the sailing be
+enough amusement for him?  What a capital thing it was for him to be
+able to take an interest in some such out-of-door exercise, as a
+distraction to the mind! And so forth, and so forth.  The Laird heard
+all this, and his expectations were no doubt rising and rising.
+Forgetful of his disappointment on first seeing Mary Avon, he was in all
+likelihood creating an imaginary figure of Angus Sutherland--and, of
+course, this marvel of erudition and intellectual power must be a tall,
+wan, pale person, with the travail of thinking written in lines across
+the spacious brow.  The Laird was not aware that for many a day after we
+first made the acquaintance of the young Scotch student he was generally
+referred to in our private conversation as "Brose."
+
+And, indeed, the Laird did stare considerably when he saw--elbowing his
+way through the crowd and making for us with a laugh of welcome on the
+fresh-coloured face--a stout-set, muscular, blue-eyed, sandy-haired,
+good-humoured-looking, youngish man; who, instead of having anything
+Celtic about his appearance, might have been taken for the son of a
+south-country farmer.  Our young Doctor was carrying his own
+portmanteau, and sturdily shoving his way through the porters who would
+fain have seized it.
+
+"I am glad to see you, Angus," said our queen regent, holding out her
+hand; and there was no ceremonial politeness in that reception--but you
+should have seen the look in her eyes.
+
+Then he went on to the waggonette.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Avon?" said he, quite timidly, like a school-boy.
+He scarcely glanced up at her face, which was regarding him with a very
+pleasant welcome; he seemed relieved when he had to turn and seize his
+portmanteau again.  Knowing that he was rather fond of driving, our
+mistress and admiral-in-chief offered him the reins, but he declined the
+honour; Mary Avon was sitting in front.  "Oh, no, thank you," said he
+quite hastily, and with something uncommonly like a blush.  The Laird,
+if he had been entertaining any feeling of jealousy, must have been
+reassured.  This Doctor-fellow was no formidable rival.  He spoke very
+little--he only listened--as we drove away to Castle Osprey.  Mary Avon
+was chatting briskly and cheerfully, and it was to the Laird that she
+addressed that running fire of nonsense and merry laughter.
+
+But the young Doctor was greatly concerned when, on our arrival at
+Castle Osprey, he saw Mary Avon helped down with much care, and heard
+the story of the sprain.
+
+"Who bandages your ankle?" said he at once, and without any shyness now.
+
+"I do it myself," said she cheerfully.  "I can do it well enough."
+
+"Oh, no, you cannot!" said he abruptly; "a person stooping cannot.  The
+bandage should be as tight, and as smooth, as the skin of a drum.  You
+must let some one else do that for you."
+
+And he was disposed to resent this walking about in the garden before
+dinner.  What business had she to trifle with such a serious matter as a
+sprain?  And a sprain which was the recall of an older sprain.  "Did she
+wish to be lame for life?" he asked sharply.
+
+Mary Avon laughed, and said that worse things than that had befallen
+people.  He asked her whether she found any pleasure in voluntary
+martyrdom; she blushed a little, and turned to the Laird.
+
+The Laird was at this moment laying before us the details of a most
+gigantic scheme.  It appeared that the inhabitants of Strathgovan, not
+content with a steam fire-engine, were talking about having a public
+park--actually proposing to have a public park, with beds of flowers,
+and iron seats; and, to crown all, a gymnasium, where the youths of the
+neighbourhood might twirl themselves on the gay trapeze to their hearts'
+content.  And where the subscriptions were to come from; and what were
+the hardiest plants for borders; and whether the gymnasium should be
+furnished with ropes or with chains--these matters were weighing heavily
+on the mind of our good friend of Denny-mains.  Angus Sutherland
+relapsed into silence, and gazed absently at a tree-fuchsia that stood
+by.
+
+"It is a beautiful tree, is it not?" said a voice beside him--that of
+our midge-like empress.
+
+He started.
+
+"Oh, yes," he said cheerfully.  "I was thinking I should like to live
+the life of a tree like that, dying in the winter, you know, and being
+quite impervious to frost, and snow, and hard weather; and then, as soon
+as the fine warm spring and summer came round, coming to life again and
+spreading yourself out to feel all the sunlight and the warm winds. That
+must be a capital life."
+
+"But do you really think they can feel that? Why, you must believe that
+those trees and flowers are alive!"
+
+"Does anybody doubt it?" said he quite simply.  "They are certainly
+alive.  Why----"
+
+And here he bethought himself for a moment.
+
+"If I only had a good microscope now," said he eagerly, "I would show
+you the life of a plant directly--in every cell of it: did you never see
+the constant life in each cell--the motion of the chlorophyll granules
+circling and circling night and day?  Did no one ever show you that?"
+
+Well, no one had ever shown us that.  We may now and again have
+entertained angels unawares; but we were not always stumbling against
+Fellows of the Royal Society.
+
+"Then I must borrow one somewhere," said he decisively, "and show you
+the secret life of even the humblest plant that exists.  And then look
+what a long life it is, in the case of the perennial plants.  Did you
+ever think of that? Those great trees in the Yosemite valley--they were
+alive and feeling the warm sunlight and the winds about them when Alfred
+was hiding in the marshes; and they were living the same undisturbed
+life when Charles the First had his head chopped off; and they were
+living--in peace and quietness--when all Europe had to wake up to stamp
+out the Napoleonic pest; and they are alive now and quite careless of
+the little creatures that come to span out their circumference, and
+ticket them, and give them ridiculous names.  Had any of the patriarchs
+a life as long as that?"
+
+The Laird eyed this young man askance. There was something uncanny about
+him. What might not he say when--in the northern solitudes to which we
+were going--the great Semple heresy-case was brought on for discussion?
+
+But at dinner the Laird got on very well with our new guest; for the
+latter listened most respectfully when Denny-mains was demonstrating the
+exceeding purity, and strength, and fitness of the speech used in the
+south of Scotland.  And indeed the Laird was generous. He admitted that
+there were blemishes.  He deprecated the introduction of French words;
+and gave us a much longer list of those aliens than usually appears in
+books.  What about _conjee_, and _que-vee_, and _fracaw_ as used by
+Scotch children and old wives?
+
+Then after dinner--at nine o'clock the wonderful glow of the summer
+evening was still filling the drawing-room--the Laird must needs have
+Mary Avon sing to him.  It was not a custom of hers.  She rarely would
+sing a song of set purpose.  The linnet sings all day--when you do not
+watch her; but she will not sing if you go and ask.
+
+However, on this occasion, her hostess went to the piano, and sat down
+to play the accompaniment; and Mary Avon stood beside her and sang, in
+rather a low voice--but it was tender enough--some modern version of the
+old ballad of the Queen's Maries.  What were the words?  These were of
+them, any way:--
+
+_Yestreen the Queen had four Maries;_
+_This night she'll hae but three:_
+_There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,_
+_And Mary Carmichael, and me._
+
+
+But indeed, if you had seen that graceful slim figure--clad all in black
+velvet, with the broad band of gold fringe round the neck--and the
+small, shapely, smoothly-brushed head above the soft swathes of white
+muslin--and if you had caught a glimpse of the black eyelashes drooping
+outward from the curve of the pale cheek--and if you had heard the
+tender, low voice of Mary Avon, you might have forgotten about the
+Queen's Maries altogether.
+
+And then Dr. Sutherland: the Laird was determined--in true Scotch
+fashion--that everybody who could not sing should be goaded to sing.
+
+"Oh, well," said the young man, with a laugh, "you know a student in
+Germany must sing whether he can or not.  And I learned there to smash
+out something like an accompaniment also."
+
+And he went to the piano without more ado and did smash out an
+accompaniment.  And if his voice was rather harsh?--well, we should have
+called it raucous in the case of East Wind, but we only called it manly
+and strenuous when it was Angus Sutherland who sang. And it was a manly
+song, too--a fitting song for our last night on shore, the words hailing
+from the green woods of Fuinary, the air an air that had many a time
+been heard among the western seas.  It was the song of the Biorlinn[#]
+that he sang to us; we could hear the brave chorus and the splash of the
+long oars:--
+
+_Send the biorlinn on careering!_
+_Cheerily and all together--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+_Give her way and show her wake_
+_'Mid showering spray and curling eddies--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+Do we not hear now the measured stroke in the darkness of the morning?
+The water springs from her bows; one by one the headlands are passed.
+But lo! the day is breaking; the dawn will surely bring a breeze with
+it; and then the sail of the gallant craft will bear her over the
+seas:--
+
+_Another cheer, our Isle appears!_
+_Our biorlinn bears her on the faster--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+_Ahead she goes! the land she knows!_
+_Behold! the snowy shores of Canna--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+A long, strong pull together indeed: who could resist joining in the
+thunder of the chorus? And we were bound for Canna, too: this was our
+last night on shore.
+
+
+[#] _Biorlinn_--that is, a rowing-boat.  The word is pronounced
+_byurlen_.  The song, which in a measure imitates the rhythm peculiar to
+Highland poetry--consisting in a certain repetition of the same vowel
+sounds--is the production of Dr. Macleod, of Morven.  And here, for the
+benefit of any one who minds such things, is a rough draft of the air,
+arranged by a most charming young lady, who, however, says she would
+much rather die than have her name mentioned:--
+
+[Illustration: Music fragments]
+
+
+Our last night on shore.  In such circumstances one naturally has a
+glance round at the people with whom one is to be brought into such
+close contact for many and many a day. But in this particular case, what
+was the use of speculating, or grumbling, or remonstrating? There is a
+certain household that is ruled with a rod of iron.  And if the mistress
+of that household chose to select as her summer companions a "shilpit
+bit thing," and a hard-headed, ambitious Scotch student, and a parochial
+magnate haunted by a heresy-case, how dared one object?  There is such a
+thing as peace and quietness.
+
+But however unpromising the outlook might be, do we not know the remark
+that is usually made by that hard-worked officer, the chief mate, when,
+on the eve of a voyage, he finds himself confronted by an unusually
+mongrel crew?  He regards those loafers and outcasts--from the Bowery,
+and Ratcliffe Highway, and the Broomielaw--Greeks, niggers, and
+Mexicans--with a critical and perhaps scornful air, and forthwith
+proceeds to address them in the following highly polished manner:--
+
+"By etcetera-etcetera, you are an etceteraed rum-looking lot; but
+etcetera-etcetera me _if I don't lick you into shape before we get to
+Rio_."
+
+And so--good-night!--and let all good people pray for fair skies and a
+favouring breeze!  And if there is any song to be heard in our dreams,
+let it be the song of the Queen's Maries--in the low, tender voice of
+Mary Avon:--
+
+_There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,_
+_And Mary Carmichael, and me._
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER VII.*
+
+                              *NORTHWARD.*
+
+
+We have bidden good-bye to the land; the woods and the green hills have
+become pale in the haze of the summer light; we are out here, alone, on
+the shining blue plain.  And if our young Doctor betrays a tendency to
+keep forward--conversing with John of Skye about blocks, and tackle, and
+winches; and if the Laird--whose parental care and regard for Mary Avon
+is becoming beautiful to see--should have quite a monopoly of the young
+lady, and be more bent than ever on amusing her with his "good ones;"
+and if our queen and governor should spend a large portion of her time
+below, in decorating cabins with flowers, in overhauling napery, and in
+earnest consultation with Master Fred about certain culinary mysteries;
+notwithstanding all these divergences of place and occupation, our
+little kingdom afloat is compact enough.  There is always, for example,
+a reassembling at meals. There is an instant community of interest when
+a sudden cry calls all hands on deck to regard some new thing--the
+spouting of a whale or the silvery splashing of a shoal of mackerel.
+But now--but now--if only some cloud-compelling Jove would break this
+insufferably fine weather, and give us a tearing good gale!
+
+It is a strange little kingdom.  It has no postal service.  Shilling
+telegrams are unknown in it; there is no newspaper at breakfast. There
+are no barrel-organs; nor rattling hansoms raising the dust in windy
+streets; there is no afternoon scandal; overheated rooms at midnight are
+a thing of the past.  Serene, independent, self-centred, it minds its
+own affairs; if the whole of Europe were roaring for war, not even an
+echo of the cry would reach us.  We only hear the soft calling of the
+sea-birds as we sit and read, or talk, or smoke; from time to time
+watching the shadows move on the blistering hot decks, or guessing at
+the names of the blue mountains that rise above Loch Etive and Lochaber.
+At the present moment there is a faint summer haze over these mountains;
+as yet we have around us none of the dazzling light and strangely
+intense colours that are peculiar to this part of the world, and that
+are only possible, in fact, in an atmosphere frequently washed clear by
+squalls of rain.  This question of rain turns up at lunch.
+
+"They prayed for rain in the churches last Sunday--so Captain John
+says," Mary Avon remarks.
+
+"The distilleries are stopped: that's very serious," continues the
+Laird.
+
+"Well," says Queen T., "people talk about the rain in the West
+Highlands.  It must be true, as everybody says it is true.  But
+now--excepting the year we went to America with Sylvia Balfour--we have
+been here for five years running; and each year we made up our mind for
+a deluge--thinking we had deserved it, you know.  Well, it never came.
+Look at this now."
+
+And the fact was that we were lying motionless on the smooth bosom of
+the Atlantic, with the sun so hot on the decks that we were glad to get
+below.
+
+"Very strange--very strange, indeed," remarked the Laird, with a
+profound air.  "Now what value are we to put on any historical evidence
+if we find such a conflict of testimony about what is at our own doors?
+How should there be two opeenions about the weather in the West
+Highlands?  It is a matter of common experience--dear me!  I never heard
+the like."
+
+"Oh, but I think we might try to reconcile those diverse opinions!" said
+Angus Sutherland, with an absolute gravity.  "You hear mostly the
+complaints of London people, who make much of a passing shower.  Then
+the tourist and holiday folk, especially from the South, come in the
+autumn, when the fine summer weather has broken.  And then," he added,
+addressing himself with a frank smile to the small creature who had been
+expressing her wonder over the fine weather, "perhaps, if you are
+pleased with your holiday on the whole, you are not anxious to remember
+the wet days; and then you are not afraid of a shower, I know; and
+besides that, when one is yachting, one is more anxious for wind than
+for fine weather."
+
+"Oh, I am sure that is it!" called out Mary Avon quite eagerly.  She did
+not care how she destroyed the Laird's convictions about the value of
+historical evidence.  "That is an explanation of the whole thing."
+
+At this, our young Doctor---who had been professing to treat this matter
+seriously merely as a joke--quickly lowered his eyes.  He scarcely ever
+looked Mary Avon in the face when she spoke to him, or when he had to
+speak to her.  And a little bit of shy embarrassment in his manner
+towards her--perceivable only at times--was all the more singular in a
+man who was shrewd and hard-headed enough, who had knocked about the
+world and seen many persons and things, and who had a fair amount of
+unassuming self-confidence, mingled with a vein of sly and reticent
+humour.  He talked freely enough when he was addressing our
+admiral-in-chief. He was not afraid to meet _her_ eyes.  Indeed, they
+were so familiar friends that she called him by his Christian name--a
+practice which in general she detested.  But she would as soon have
+thought of applying "Mr." to one of her own boys at Epsom College as to
+Angus Sutherland.
+
+"Well, you know, Angus," says she pleasantly, "you have definitely
+promised to go up to the Outer Hebrides with us, and back. The longer
+the calms last, the longer we shall have you.  So we shall gladly put up
+with the fine weather."
+
+"It is very kind of you to say so; but I have already had such a long
+holiday----"
+
+"Oh!" said Mary Avon, with her eyes full of wonder and indignation.  She
+was too surprised to say any more.  She only stared at him.  She knew he
+had been working night and day in Edinburgh.
+
+"I mean," said he hastily, and looking down, "I have been away so long
+from London. Indeed, I was getting rather anxious about my next month's
+number; but luckily, just before I left Edinburgh, a kind friend sent me
+a most valuable paper, so I am quite at ease again.  Would you like to
+read it, sir? It is set up in type."
+
+He took the sheets from his pocket, and handed them to the Laird.
+Denny-mains looked at the title.  It was _On the Radiolarians of the
+Coal Measures_, and it was the production of a well-known professor.
+The Laird handed back the paper without opening it.
+
+"No, thank you," said he, with some dignity. "If I wished to be
+instructed, I would like a safer guide than that man."
+
+We looked with dismay on this dangerous thing that had been brought on
+board: might it not explode and blow up the ship?
+
+"Why," said our Doctor, in unaffected wonder, and entirely mistaking the
+Laird's exclamation, "he is a perfect master of his subject."
+
+"There is a great deal too much speculation nowadays on these matters,
+and parteecularly among the younger men," remarked the Laird severely.
+And he looked at Angus Sutherland. "I suppose now ye are well acquainted
+with the _Vestiges of Creation_?"
+
+"I have heard of the book," said Brose--regretfully confessing his
+ignorance, "but I never happened to see it."
+
+The Laird's countenance lightened.
+
+"So much the better--so much the better. A most mischievous and
+unsettling book.  But all the harm it can do is counteracted by a noble
+work--a conclusive work that leaves nothing to be said.  Ye have read
+the _Testimony of the Rocks_, no doubt?"
+
+"Oh, yes, certainly," our Doctor was glad to be able to say; "but--but
+it was a long time ago--when I was a boy, in fact."
+
+"Boy, or man, you'll get no better book on the history of the earth.  I
+tell ye, sir, I never read a book that placed such firm conviction in my
+mind.  Will ye get any of the new men they are talking about as keen an
+observer and as skilful in arguing as Hugh Miller?  No, no; not one of
+them dares to try to upset the _Testimony of the Rocks_."
+
+Angus Sutherland appealed against this sentence of finality only in a
+very humble way.
+
+"Of course, sir," said he meekly, "you know that science is still moving
+forward----"
+
+"Science?" repeated the Laird.  "Science may be moving forward or moving
+backward; but can it upset the facts of the earth? Science may say what
+it likes; but the facts remain the same."
+
+Now this point was so conclusive that we unanimously hailed the Laird as
+victor.  Our young Doctor submitted with an excellent good humour.  He
+even promised to post that paper on the Radiolarians at the very first
+post-office we might reach: we did not want any such explosive compounds
+on board.
+
+That night we only got as far as Fishnish Bay--a solitary little harbour
+probably down on but few maps; and that we had to reach by getting out
+the gig for a tow.  There was a strange bronze-red in the northern
+skies, long after the sun had set; but in here the shadow of the great
+mountains was on the water.  We could scarcely see the gig; but Angus
+Sutherland had joined the men and was pulling stroke; and along with the
+measured splash of the oars, we heard something about "_Ho, ro,
+clansmen!_"  Then, in the cool night air, there was a slight fragrance
+of peat-smoke; we knew we were getting near the shore.
+
+"He's a fine fellow, that," says the Laird, generously, of his defeated
+antagonist.  "A fine fellow.  His knowledge of different things is just
+remarkable; and he's as modest as a girl.  Ay, and he can row, too; a
+while ago when it was lighter, I could see him put his shoulders into
+it.  Ay, he's a fine, good-natured fellow, and I am glad he has not been
+led astray by that mischievous book, the _Vestiges of Creation_."
+
+Come on board now, boys, and swing up the gig to the davits!  Twelve
+fathoms of chain?--away with her then!--and there is a roar in the
+silence of the lonely little bay. And thereafter silence; and the sweet
+fragrance of the peat in the night air, and the appearance, above the
+black hills, of a clear, shining, golden planet that sends a quivering
+line of light across the water to us.  And, once more, good-night and
+pleasant dreams!
+
+But what is this in the morning?  There have been no pleasant dreams for
+John of Skye and his merry men during the last night; for here we are
+already between Mingary Bay and Ru-na-Gaul Lighthouse; and before us is
+the open Atlantic, blue under the fair skies of the morning.  And here
+is Dr. Sutherland, at the tiller, with a suspiciously negligent look
+about his hair and shirt-collar.
+
+"I have been up since four," says he, with a laugh.  "I heard them
+getting under way, and did not wish to miss anything.  You know these
+places are not so familiar to me as they are to you."
+
+"Is there going to be any wind to-day, John?"
+
+"No mich," says John of Skye, looking at the cloudless blue vault above
+the glassy sweeps of the sea.
+
+Nevertheless, as the morning goes by, we get as much of a breeze as
+enables us to draw away from the mainland--round Ardnamurchan ("the
+headland of the great sea") and out into the open--with Muick Island,
+and the sharp Scuir of Eigg, and the peaks of Rum lying over there on
+the still Atlantic, and far away in the north the vast and spectral
+mountains of Skye.
+
+And now the work of the day begins.  Mary Avon, for mere shame's sake,
+is at last compelled to produce one of her blank canvases and open her
+box of tubes.  And now it would appear that Angus Sutherland--though
+deprived of the authority of the sick-room--is beginning to lose his
+fear of the English young lady.  He makes himself useful--not with the
+elaborate and patronising courtesy of the Laird, but in a sort of
+submissive, matter-of-fact shifty fashion.  He sheathes the spikes of
+her easel with cork so that they shall not mark the deck.  He rigs up,
+to counterbalance that lack of stability, a piece of cord with a heavy
+weight.  Then, with the easel fixed, he fetches her a deck-chair to sit
+in, and a deck-stool for her colours, and these and her he places under
+the lee of the foresail, to be out of the glare of the sun.  Thus our
+artist is started; she is going to make a sketch of the after-part of
+the yacht with Hector of Moidart at the tiller: beyond, the calm blue
+seas, and a faint promontory of land.
+
+Then the Laird--having confidentially remarked to Miss Avon that Tom
+Galbraith, than whom there is no greater authority living, invariably
+moistens the fresh canvas with megilp before beginning work--has turned
+to the last report of the Semple case.
+
+"No, no," says he to our sovereign lady, who is engaged in some
+mysterious work in wool, "it does not look well for the Presbytery to go
+over every one of the charges in the major proposeetion--supported by
+the averments in the minor--only to find them irrelevant; and then bring
+home to him the part of the libel that deals with tendency.  No, no;
+that shows a lamentable want of purpose.  In view of the great danger to
+be apprehended from these secret assaults on the inspiration of the
+Scriptures, they should have stuck to each charge with tenahcity.  Now,
+I will just show ye where Dr. Carnegie, in defending
+_Secundo_--illustrated as it was with the extracts and averments in the
+minor--let the whole thing slip through his fingers."
+
+But if any one were disposed to be absolutely idle on this calm,
+shining, beautiful day--far away from the cares and labours of the land?
+Out on the taffrail, under shadow of the mizen, there is a seat that is
+gratefully cool.  The Mare of the sea no longer bewilders the eyes; one
+can watch with a lazy enjoyment the teeming life of the open Atlantic.
+The great skarts go whizzing by, long-necked, rapid of flight.  The
+gannets poise in the air, and then there is a sudden dart downwards, and
+a spout of water flashes up where the bird has dived.  The guillemots
+fill the silence with their soft kurrooing--and here they are on all
+sides of us--_Kirroo! Kurroo!_--dipping their bills in the water,
+hastening away from the vessel, and then rising on the surface to flap
+their wings.  But this is a strange thing: they are all in
+pairs--obviously mother and child--and the mother calls _Kurroo!
+Kurroo!_--and the young one unable as yet to dive or swim, answers
+_Pe-yoo-it!  Pe-yoo-it!_ and flutters and paddles after her.  But where
+is the father?  And has the guillemot only one of a family?  Over that
+one, at all events, she exercises a valiant protection.  Even though the
+stem of the yacht seems likely to run both of them down, she will
+neither dive nor fly until she has piloted the young one out of danger.
+
+Then a sudden cry startles the Laird from his heresy-case and Mary Avon
+from her canvas.  A sound far away has turned all eyes to the north;
+though there is nothing visible there, over the shining calm of the sea,
+but a small cloud of white spray that slowly sinks.  In a second or two,
+however, we see another jet of white water arise; and then a great brown
+mass heave slowly over; and then we hear the spouting of the whale.
+
+"What a huge animal!" cries one.  "A hundred feet!"
+
+"Eighty, any way!"
+
+The whale is sheering off to the north: there is less and less chance of
+our forming any correct estimate.
+
+"Oh, I am sure it was a hundred!  Don't you think so, Angus?" says our
+admiral.
+
+"Well," says the Doctor, slowly--pretending to be very anxious about
+keeping the sails full (when there was no wind)--"you know there is a
+great difference between 'yacht measurement' and 'registered tonnage.'
+A vessel of fifty registered tons may become eighty or ninety by yacht
+measurement.  And I have often noticed," continues this graceless young
+man, who takes no thought how he is bringing contempt on his elders,
+"that objects seen from the deck of a yacht are naturally subject to
+'yacht measurement.'  I don't know what the size of that whale may be.
+Its registered tonnage, I suppose, would be the number of Jonahs it
+could carry.  But I should think that if the apparent 'yacht
+measurement' was a hundred feet, the whale was probably about twenty
+feet long."
+
+It was thus he tried to diminish the marvels of the deep!  But, however
+he might crush us otherwise, we were his masters on one point. The
+Semple heresy-case was too deep even for him.  What could he make of
+"_the first alternative of the general major_"?
+
+And see now, on this calm summer evening, we pass between Muick and
+Eigg; and the sea is like a plain of gold.  As we draw near the sombre
+mass of Rum, the sunset deepens, and a strange lurid mist hangs around
+this remote and mountainous island rising sheer from the Atlantic.
+Gloomy and mysterious are the vast peaks of Haleval and Haskeval; we
+creep under them--favoured by a flood-tide--and the silence of the
+desolate shores seems to spread out from them and to encompass us.
+
+Mary Avon has long ago put away her canvas; she sits and watches; and
+her soft black eyes are full of dreaming as she gazes up at those
+thunder-dark mountains against the rosy haze of the west.
+
+"Haleval and Haskeval?" Angus Sutherland repeats, in reply to his
+hostess; but he starts all the same, for he has been covertly regarding
+the dark and wistful eyes of the girl sitting there.  "Oh, these are
+Norse names.  Scuir na Gillean, on the other hand, is Gaelic--it is _the
+peak of the young men_.  Perhaps, the Norsemen had the north of the
+island, and the Celts the south."
+
+Whether they were named by Scandinavian or by Celt, Haleval and Haskeval
+seemed to overshadow us with their sultry gloom as we slowly glided into
+the lonely loch lying at their base.  We were the only vessel there; and
+we could make out no sign of life on shore, until the glass revealed to
+us one or two half-ruined cottages.  The northern twilight shone in the
+sky far into the night; but neither that clear metallic glow, nor any
+radiance from moon, or planet, or star, seemed to affect the
+thunder-darkness of Haskeval and Haleval's silent peaks.
+
+There was another tale to tell below--the big saloon aglow with candles;
+the white table-cover with its centre-piece of roses, nasturtiums, and
+ferns; the delayed dinner, or supper, or whatever it might be called,
+all artistically arranged; our young Doctor most humbly solicitous that
+Mary Avon should be comfortably seated, and, in fact, quite usurping the
+office of the Laird in that respect; and then a sudden sound in the
+galley, a hissing as of a thousand squibs, telling us that Master Fred
+had once more and ineffectually tried to suppress the released genie of
+the bottle by jamming down the cork. Forthwith the Laird, with his
+old-fashioned ways, must needs propose a health, which is that of our
+most sovereign and midge-like mistress; and this he does with an
+elaborate and gracious and sonorous courtesy.  And surely there is no
+reason why Mary Avon should not for once break her habit and join in
+that simple ceremony; especially when it is a real live Doctor--and not
+only a Doctor, but an encyclop�dia of scientific and all other
+knowledge--who would fain fill her glass? Angus Sutherland timidly but
+seriously pleads; and he does not plead in vain; and you would think
+from his look that she had conferred an extraordinary favour on him.
+Then we--we propose a health too--the health of the FOUR WINDS! and we
+do not care which of them it is who is coming to-morrow, so long as he
+or she comes in force.  Blow, breezes, blow!--from the Coolins of Skye,
+or the shores of Coll, or the glens of Arisaig and Moidart--for
+to-morrow morning we shake out once more the white wings of the _White
+Dove_, and set forth for the loneliness of the northern seas.
+
+
+
+
+                            *CHAPTER VIII.*
+
+                       *PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS.*
+
+
+Now the Laird has a habit--laudable or not--of lingering over an
+additional half-cup at breakfast, as an excuse for desultory talk; and
+thus it is, on this particular morning, the young people having gone on
+deck to see the yacht get under way, that Denny-mains has a chance of
+revealing to us certain secret schemes of his over which he has
+apparently been brooding. How could we have imagined that all this
+plotting and planning had been going on beneath the sedate exterior of
+the Commissioner for the Burgh of Strathgovan?
+
+"She's just a wonderful bit lass!" he says, confidently, to his hostess;
+"as happy and contented as the day is long; and when she's not singing
+to herself, her way of speech has a sort of--a sort of music in it that
+is quite new to me.  Yes, I must admit that; I did not know that the
+southern English tongue was so accurate and pleasant to the ear.  Ay,
+but what will become of her?"
+
+What, indeed!  The lady whom he was addressing had often spoken to him
+of Mary Avon's isolated position in the world.
+
+"It fairly distresses me," continues the good-hearted Laird, "when I
+think of her condeetion--not at present, when she has, if I may be
+allowed to say so, _several_ friends near her who would be glad to do
+what they could for her; but by and by, when she is becoming older----"
+
+The Laird hesitated.  Was it possible, after all, that he was about to
+hint at the chance of Mary Avon becoming the mistress of the mansion and
+estate of Denny-mains?  Then he made a plunge.
+
+"A young woman in her position should have a husband to protect her,
+that is what I am sure of.  Have ye never thought of it, ma'am?"
+
+"I should like very well to see Mary married," says the other, demurely.
+"And I know she would make an excellent wife."
+
+"An excellent wife!" exclaims the Laird; and then he adds, with a tone
+approaching to severity, "I tell ye he will be a fortunate man that gets
+her.  Oh, ay; I have watched her. I can keep my eyes open when there is
+need. Did you hear her asking the captain about his wife and children?
+I tell you there's _human nature_ in that lass."
+
+There was no need for the Laird to be so pugnacious; we were not
+contesting the point. However, he resumed--
+
+"I have been thinking," said he, with a little more shyness, "about my
+nephew.  He's a good lad.  Well, ye know, ma'am, that I do not approve
+of young men being brought up in idleness, whatever their prospects must
+be; and I have no doubt whatever that my nephew Howard is working hard
+enough--what with the reading of law-books, and attending the courts,
+and all that--though as yet he has not had much business.  But then
+there is no necessity. I do not think he is a lad of any great
+ambeetion, like your friend Mr. Sutherland, who has to fight his way in
+the world in any case.  But Howard--I have been thinking now that if he
+was to get married and settled, he might give up the law business
+altogether; and, if they were content to live in Scotland, he might look
+after Denny-mains.  It will be his in any case, ye know; he would have
+the interest of a man looking after his own property.  Now, I will tell
+ye plainly, ma'am, what I have been thinking about this day or two back;
+if Howard would marry your young lady friend, that would be agreeable to
+me."
+
+The calm manner in which the Laird announced his scheme showed that it
+had been well matured.  It was a natural, simple, feasible arrangement,
+by which two persons in whom he took a warm interest would be benefited
+at once.
+
+"But then, sir," said his hostess, with a smile which she could not
+wholly repress, "you know people never do marry to please a third
+person--at least, very seldom."
+
+"Oh, there can be no forcing," said the Laird with decision.  "But I
+have done a great deal for Howard; may I not expect that he will do
+something for me?"
+
+"Oh, doubtless, doubtless," says this amiable lady, who has had some
+experience in match-making herself; "but I have generally found that
+marriages that would be in every way suitable and pleasing to friends,
+and obviously desirable, are precisely the marriages that never come
+off.  Young people, when they are flung at each other's heads, to use
+the common phrase, never will be sensible and please their relatives.
+Now if you were to bring your nephew here, do you think Mary would fall
+in love with him because she ought?  More likely you would find that,
+out of pure contrariety, she would fall in love with Angus Sutherland,
+who cannot afford to marry, and whose head is filled with other things."
+
+"I am not sure, I am not sure," said the Laird, musingly.  "Howard is a
+good-looking young fellow, and a capital lad, too.  I am not so sure."
+
+"And then, you know," said the other shyly, for she will not plainly say
+anything to Mary's disparagement, "young men have different tastes in
+their choice of a wife.  He might not have the high opinion of her that
+you have."
+
+At this the Laird gave a look of surprise--even of resentment.
+
+"Then I'll tell ye what it is, ma'am," said he, almost angrily; "if my
+nephew had the chance of marrying such a girl, and did not do so, I
+should consider him--I should consider him _a fool_, and say so."
+
+And then he added, sharply--
+
+"And do ye think I would let Denny-mains pass into the hands of _a
+fool_?"
+
+Now this kind lady had had no intention of rousing the wrath of the
+Laird in this manner; and she instantly set about pacifying him.  And
+the Laird was easily pacified.  In a minute or two he was laughing
+good-naturedly at himself for getting into a passion; he said it would
+not do for one at his time of life to try to play the part of the stern
+father as they played that in theatre pieces--there was to be no
+forcing.
+
+"But he's a good lad, ma'am, a good lad," said he, rising as his hostess
+rose; and he added, significantly, "he is no fool, I assure ye, ma'am;
+he has plenty of common sense."
+
+When we get up on deck again, we find that the _White Dove_ is gently
+gliding out of the lonely Loch Scresorst, with its solitary house among
+the trees, and its crofters' huts at the base of the sombre hills.  And
+as the light cool breeze--gratefully cool after the blazing heat of the
+last day or two--carries us away northward, we see more and more of the
+awful solitudes of Haleval and Haskeval, that are still thunderous and
+dark under the hazy sky. Above the great shoulders, and under the purple
+peaks, we see the far-reaching corries opening up, with here and there a
+white waterfall just visible in the hollows.  There is a sense of escape
+as we draw away from that overshadowing gloom.
+
+Then we discover that we have a new skipper to-day, _vice_ John of Skye,
+deposed. The fresh hand is Mary Avon, who is at the tiller, and looking
+exceedingly business-like. She has been promoted to this post by Dr.
+Sutherland, who stands by; she receives explanations about the procedure
+of Hector of Moidart, who is up aloft, lacing the smaller topsail to the
+mast; she watches the operations of John of Skye and Sandy, who are at
+the sheets below; and, like a wise and considerate captain, she pretends
+not to notice Master Fred, who is having a quiet smoke by the windlass.
+And so, past those lonely shores sails the brave vessel--the yawl _White
+Dove_, Captain Mary Avon, bound for anywhere.
+
+But you must not imagine that the new skipper is allowed to stand by the
+tiller. Captain though she may be, she has to submit civilly to
+dictation, in so far as her foot is concerned, Our young Doctor has
+compelled her to be seated, and he has passed a rope round the tiller
+that so she can steer from her chair, and from time to time he gives
+suggestions, which she receives as orders.
+
+"I wish I had been with you when you first sprained your foot," he says.
+
+"Yes?" she answers, with humble inquiry in her eyes.
+
+"I would have put it in plaster of Paris," he says, in a matter-of-fact
+way, "and locked you up in the house for a fortnight; at the end of that
+time you would not know which ankle was the sprained one."
+
+There was neither "with your leave" nor "by your leave" in this young
+man's manner when he spoke of that accident.  He would have taken
+possession of her.  He would have discarded your bandages and hartshorn,
+and what not; when it was Mary Avon's foot that was concerned--it was
+intimated to us--he would have had his own way in spite of all comers.
+
+"I wish I had known," she says, timidly, meaning that it was the
+treatment she wished she had known.
+
+"There is a more heroic remedy," said he, with a smile; "and that is
+walking the sprain off.  I believe that can be done, but most people
+would shrink from the pain.  Of course, if it were done at all, it would
+be done by a woman; women can bear pain infinitely better than men."
+
+"Oh, do you think so!" she says, in mild protest.  "Oh, I am sure not.
+Men are so much braver than women, so much stronger----"
+
+But this gentle quarrel is suddenly stopped, for some one calls
+attention to a deer that is calmly browsing on one of the high slopes
+above that rocky shore, and instantly all glasses are in request.  It is
+a hind, with a beautifully shaped head and slender legs; she takes no
+notice of the passing craft, but continues her feeding, walking a few
+steps onward from time to time.  In this way she reaches the edge of a
+gully in the rugged cliffs where there is some brushwood, and probably a
+stream; into this she sedately descends, and we see her no more.
+
+Then there is another cry; what is this cloud ahead, or waterspout
+resting on the calm bosom of the sea?  Glasses again in request, amid
+many exclamations, reveal to us that this is a dense cloud of birds; a
+flock so vast that towards the water it seems black; can it be the dead
+body of a whale that has collected this world of wings from all the
+Northern seas?  Hurry on, _White Dove_; for the floating cloud with the
+black base is moving and seething--in fantastic white fumes, as it
+were--in the loveliness of this summer day. And now, as we draw nearer,
+we can descry that there is no dead body of a whale causing that
+blackness; but only the density of the mass of seafowl.  And nearer and
+nearer as we draw, behold! the great gannets swooping down in such
+numbers that the sea is covered with a mist of waterspouts; and the air
+is filled with innumerable cries; and we do not know what to make of
+this bewildering, fluttering, swimming, screaming mass of terns,
+guillemots, skarts, kittiwakes, razorbills, puffins, and gulls.  But
+they draw away again.  The herring-shoal is moving northward.  The
+murmur of cries becomes more remote, and the seething cloud of the
+sea-birds is slowly dispersing.  When the _White Dove_ sails up to the
+spot at which this phenomenon was first seen, there is nothing visible
+but a scattered assemblage of guillemots--_kurroo! kurroo!_ answered by
+_pe-yoo-it! pe-yoo-it!_--and great gannets--"as big as a sheep," says
+John of Skye--apparently so gorged that they lie on the water within
+stone's-throw of the yacht, before spreading out their long, snow-white,
+black-tipped wings to bear them away over the sea.
+
+And now, as we are altering our course to the west--far away to our
+right stand the vast Coolins of Skye--we sail along the northern shores
+of Rum.  There is no trace of any habitation visible; nothing but the
+precipitous cliffs, and the sandy bays, and the outstanding rocks dotted
+with rows of shining black skarts. When Mary Avon asks why those sandy
+bays should be so red, and why a certain ruddy warmth of colour should
+shine through even the patches of grass, our F.R.S. begins to speak of
+powdered basalt rubbed down from the rocks above.  He would have her
+begin another sketch, but she is too proud of her newly acquired
+knowledge to forsake the tiller.
+
+The wind is now almost dead aft, and we have a good deal of gybing.
+Other people might think that all this gybing was an evidence of bad
+steering on the part of our new skipper; but Angus Sutherland--and we
+cannot contradict an F.R.S.--assures Miss Avon that she is doing
+remarkably well; and, as he stands by to lay hold of the main sheet when
+the boom swings over, we are not in much danger of carrying away either
+port or starboard davits.
+
+"Do you know," says he lightly, "I sometimes think I ought to apply for
+the post of surgeon on board a man-of-war?  That would just suit me----"
+
+"Oh, I hope you will not," she blurts out quite inadvertently; and
+thereafter there is a deep blush on her face.
+
+"I should enjoy it immensely, I know," says he, wholly ignorant of her
+embarrassment, because he is keeping an eye on the sails. "I believe I
+should have more pleasure in life that way than any other----"
+
+"But you do not live for your own pleasure," says she hastily, perhaps
+to cover her confusion.
+
+"I have no one else to live for, any way," says he, with a laugh; and
+then he corrected himself.  "Oh, yes, I have.  My father is a sad
+heretic.  He has fallen away from the standards of his faith; he has set
+up idols--the diplomas and medals I have got from time to time.  He has
+them all arranged in his study, and I have heard that he positively sits
+down before them and worships them. When I sent him the medal from
+Vienna--it was only bronze--he returned to me his Greek Testament, that
+he had interleaved and annotated when he was a student; I believe it was
+his greatest possession."
+
+"And you would give up all that he expects from you to go away and be a
+doctor on board a ship!" says Mary Avon, with some proud emphasis.
+"That would not be my ambition if I were a man, and--and--if I
+had--if----"
+
+Well, she could not quite say to Brose's face what she thought of his
+powers and prospects; so she suddenly broke away and said--
+
+"Yes; you would go and do that for your own amusement?  And what would
+the amusement be?  Do you think they would let the doctor interfere with
+the sailing of the ship?"
+
+"Well," said he, laughing, "that is a practical objection.  I don't
+suppose the captain of a man-of-war or even of a merchant vessel would
+be as accommodating as your John of Skye.  Captain John has his
+compensation when he is relieved; he can go forward, and light his
+pipe."
+
+"Well, I think for _your father's sake_," says Miss Avon, with decision,
+"you had better put that idea out of your head, once and for all."
+
+Now blow, breezes, blow!  What is the great headland that appears,
+striking out into the wide Atlantic?
+
+_Ahead she goes! the land she knows!_
+_Behold! the snowy shores of Canna!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+
+"Tom Galbraith," the Laird is saying solemnly to his hostess, "has
+assured me that Rum is the most picturesque island on the whole of the
+western coast of Scotland.  That is his deleeberate opinion.  And indeed
+I would not go so far as to say he was wrong.  Arran! They talk about
+Arran!  Just look at those splendid mountains coming sheer down to the
+sea; and the light of the sun on them!  Eh me, what a sunset there will
+be this night!"
+
+"Canna?" says Dr. Sutherland, to his interlocutor, who seems very
+anxious to be instructed.  "Oh, I don't know.  _Canna_ in Gaelic is
+simply a can; but then _Cana_ is a whale; and the island in the distance
+looks long and flat on the water.  Or it may be from _canach_--that is,
+the moss-cotton; or from _cannach_--that is, the sweet-gale. You see,
+Miss Avon, ignorant people have an ample choice."
+
+Blow! breezes blow! as the yellow light of the afternoon shines over the
+broad Atlantic. Here are the eastern shores of Canna, high and rugged,
+and dark with caves; and there the western shores of Rum, the mighty
+mountains aglow in the evening light.  And this remote and solitary
+little bay, with its green headlands, and its awkward rocks at the
+mouth, and the one house presiding over it amongst that shining
+wilderness of shrubs and flowers? Here is fair shelter for the night.
+
+After dinner, in the lambent twilight, we set out with the gig; and
+there was much preparation of elaborate contrivances for the entrapping
+of fish.  But the Laird's occult and intricate tackle--the spinning
+minnows, and spoons, and india-rubber sand-eels--proved no competitor
+for the couple of big white flies that Angus Sutherland had busked.  And
+of course Mary Avon had that rod; and when some huge lithe dragged the
+end of the rod fairly under water, and when she cried aloud, "Oh! oh! I
+can't hold it; he'll break the rod!" then arose our Doctor's word of
+command:--
+
+"Haul him in!  Shove out the butt!  No scientific playing with a lithe!
+Well done!--well done!--a five-pounder I'll bet ten farthings!"
+
+It was not scientific fishing; but we got big fish--which is of more
+importance in the eyes of Master Fred.  And then, as the night fell, we
+set out again for the yacht; and the Doctor pulled stroke; and he sang
+some more verses of the _biorlinn_ song as the blades dashed fire into
+the rushing sea:--
+
+_Proudly o'er the waves we'll bound her,_
+_As the staghound bounds the heather!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+_Through the eddying tide we'll guide her,_
+_Round each isle and breezy headland,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+The yellow lamp at the bow of the yacht grew larger and larger; the hull
+of the boat looked black between us and the starlit heavens; as we
+clambered on board there was a golden glow from the saloon skylight. And
+then, during the long and happy evening, amid all the whist-playing and
+other amusements going forward, what about certain timid courtesies and
+an occasional shy glance between those two young people?  Some of us
+began to think that if the Laird's scheme was to come to anything, it
+was high time that Mr. Howard Smith put in an appearance.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER IX.*
+
+                            *A WILD STUDIO.*
+
+
+There is a fine bustle of preparation next morning--for the gig is
+waiting by the side of the yacht; and Dr. Sutherland is carefully
+getting our artist's materials into the stern; and the Laird is busy
+with shawls and waterproofs; and Master Fred brings along the
+luncheon-basket.  Our Admiral-in-chief prefers to stay on board; she has
+letters to write; there are enough of us to go and be tossed on the
+Atlantic swell off the great caves of Canna.
+
+And as the men strike their oars in the water and we wave a last adieu,
+the Laird catches a glimpse of our larder at the stern of the yacht.
+Alas! there is but one remaining piece of fresh meat hanging there,
+under the white canvas.
+
+"It reminds me," says he, beginning to laugh already, "of a good one
+that Tom Galbraith told me--a real good one that was.  Tom had a little
+bit yacht that his man and himself sailed when he was painting, ye know;
+and one day they got into a bay where Duncan--that was the man's
+name--had some friends ashore.  Tom left him in charge of the yacht;
+and--and--ha! ha! ha!--there was a leg of mutton hanging at the stern.
+Well, Tom was rowed ashore; and painted all day; and came back to the
+yacht in the afternoon. _There was no leg of mutton_!  'Duncan,' says
+he, 'where is the leg of mutton?'  Duncan pretended to be vastly
+surprised.  'Iss it away?' says he.  'Away?' says Tom.  'Don't you see
+it is away?  I want to know who took it!'  Duncan looked all round
+him--at the sea and the sky--and then says he--then says he, 'Maybe it
+wass a dog!'--ha! ha! hee! hee! hee!--'maybe it wass a dog,' says he;
+and they were half a mile from the shore! I never see the canvas at the
+stern of a yacht without thinking o' Tom Galbraith and the leg of
+mutton;" and here the Laird laughed long and loud again.
+
+"I have heard you speak once or twice about Tom Galbraith," remarked our
+young Doctor, without meaning the least sarcasm; "he is an artist, I
+suppose?"
+
+The Laird stopped laughing.  There was a look of indignant
+wonder--approaching to horror--on his face.  But when he proceeded, with
+some dignity and even resentment, to explain to this ignorant person the
+immense importance of the school that Tom Galbraith had been chiefly
+instrumental in forming; and the high qualities of that artist's
+personal work; and how the members of the Royal Academy shook in their
+shoes at the mere mention of Tom Galbraith's name, he became more
+pacified; for Angus Sutherland listened with great respect, and even
+promised to look out for Mr. Galbraith's work if he passed through
+Edinburgh on his way to the south.
+
+The long, swinging stroke of the men soon took us round the successive
+headlands until we were once more in the open, with the mountains of
+Skye in the north, and, far away at the horizon, a pale line which we
+knew to be North Uist.  And now the green shores of Canna were becoming
+more precipitous; and there was a roaring of the sea along the spurs of
+black rock; and the long Atlantic swell, breaking on the bows of the
+gig, was sending a little more spray over us than was at all desirable.
+Certainly no one who could have seen the Doctor at this moment--with his
+fresh-coloured face dripping with the salt water and shining in the
+sunlight--would have taken him for a hard-worked and anxious student.
+His hard work was pulling stroke-oar, and he certainly put his shoulders
+into it, as the Laird had remarked; and his sole anxiety was about Mary
+Avon's art-materials.  That young lady shook the water from the two
+blank canvases, and declared it did not matter a bit.
+
+These lonely cliffs!--becoming more grim and awful every moment, as this
+mite of a boat still wrestles with the great waves, and makes its way
+along the coast.  And yet there are tender greens where the pasturage
+appears on the high plateaus; and there is a soft ruddy hue where the
+basalt shines.  The gloom of the picture appears below--in the caves
+washed out of the conglomerate by the heavy seas; in the spurs and
+fantastic pillars and arches of the black rock; and in this leaden-hued
+Atlantic springing high over every obstacle to go roaring and booming
+into the caverns.  And these innumerable white specks on the sparse
+green plateaus and on this high promontory: can they be mushrooms in
+millions?  Suddenly one of the men lifts his oar from the rowlock, and
+rattles it on the gunwale of the gig.  At this sound a cloud rises from
+the black rocks; it spreads; the next moment the air is darkened over
+our heads; and almost before we know what has happened, this vast
+multitude of puffins has wheeled by us, and wheeled again further out to
+sea--a smoke of birds!  And as we watch them, behold! stragglers come
+back--in thousands upon thousands--the air is filled with them--some of
+them swooping so near us that we can see the red parrot-like beak and
+the orange-hued web-feet, and then again the green shelves of grass and
+the pinnacles of rock become dotted with those white specks.  The
+myriads of birds; the black caverns; the arches and spurs of rock; the
+leaden-hued Atlantic bounding and springing in white foam: what says
+Mary Avon to that?  Has she the courage?
+
+"If you can put me ashore?" says she.
+
+"Oh, we will get you ashore, somehow," Dr. Sutherland answers.
+
+But, indeed, the nearer we approach that ugly coast the less we like the
+look of it. Again and again we make for what should be a sheltered bit;
+but long before we can get to land we can see through the plunging sea
+great masses of yellow, which we know to be the barnacled rock; and then
+ahead we find a shore that, in this heavy surf, would make match-wood of
+the gig in three seconds.  Our Doctor, however, will not give in.  If he
+cannot get the gig on to any beach or into any creek, he will land our
+artist somehow.  And at last--and in spite of the remonstrances of John
+of Skye--he insists on having the boat backed in to a projecting mass of
+conglomerate, all yellowed over with small shell-fish, against which the
+sea is beating heavily.  It is an ugly landing-place; we can see the
+yellow rock go sheer down in the clear green sea; and the surf is
+spouting up the side in white jets.  But if she can watch a high wave,
+and put her foot there--and there--will she not find herself directly on
+a plateau of rock at least twelve feet square?
+
+"Back her, John!--back her!--" and therewith the Doctor, watching his
+chance, scrambles out and up to demonstrate the feasibility of the
+thing.  And the easel is handed out to him; and the palette and
+canvases; and finally Mary Avon herself.  Nay, even the Laird will
+adventure, sending on before him the luncheon-basket.
+
+It is a strange studio--this projecting shell-crusted rock, surrounded
+on three sides by the sea, and on the fourth by an impassable cliff. And
+the sounds beneath our feet--there must be some subterranean passage or
+cave into which the sea roars and booms.  But Angus Sutherland rigs up
+the easel rapidly; and arranges the artist's camp-stool; and sets her
+fairly agoing; then he proposes to leave the Laird in charge of her.  He
+and the humble chronicler of the adventures of these people mean to have
+some further exploration of this wild coast.
+
+But we had hardly gone a quarter of a mile or so--it was hard work
+pulling in this heavy sea--when the experienced eye of Sandy from Islay
+saw that something was wrong.
+
+"What's that?" he said, staring.
+
+We turned instantly, and strove to look through the mists of spray.
+Where we had left the Laird and Mary Avon there were now visible only
+two mites, apparently not bigger than puffins.  But is not one of the
+puffins gesticulating wildly?
+
+"Round with her, John!" the Doctor calls out.  "They want us--I'm sure."
+
+And away the gig goes again--plunging into the great troughs and then
+swinging up to the giddy crests.  And as we get nearer and nearer, what
+is the meaning of the Laird's frantic gestures?  We cannot understand
+him; and it is impossible to hear, for the booming of the sea into the
+caves drowns his voice.
+
+"He has lost his hat," says Angus Sutherland; and then, the next second,
+"Where's the easel?"
+
+Then we understand those wild gestures. Pull away, merry men! for has
+not a squall swept the studio of its movables?  And there, sure enough,
+tossing high and low on the waves, we descry a variety of things--an
+easel, two canvases, a hat, a veil, and what not.  Up with the boat-hook
+to the bow; and gently with those plunges, you eager Hector of Moidart!
+
+"I am so sorry," she says (or rather shrieks), when her dripping
+property is restored to her.
+
+"It was my fault," our Doctor yells; "but I will undertake to fasten
+your easel properly this time"--and therewith he fetches a lump of rock
+that might have moored a man-of-war.
+
+We stay and have luncheon in this gusty and thunderous studio--though
+Mary Avon will scarcely turn from her canvas.  And there is no painting
+of pink geraniums about this young woman's work.  We see already that
+she has got a thorough grip of this cold, hard coast (the sun is
+obscured now, and the various hues are more sombre than ever); and,
+though she has not had time as yet to try to catch the motion of the
+rolling sea, she has got the colour of it--a leaden-grey, with glints of
+blue and white, and with here and there a sudden splash of deep, rich,
+glassy, bottle green, where some wave for a moment catches, just as it
+gets to the shore, a reflection from the grass plateaus above.  Very
+good, Miss Avon; very good--but we pretend that we are not looking.
+
+Then away we go again, to leave the artist to her work; and we go as
+near as possible--the high sea will not allow us to enter--the vast
+black caverns; and we watch through the clear water for those masses of
+yellow rock. And then the multitudes of white-breasted, red-billed birds
+perched up there--close to the small burrows in the scant grass; they
+jerk their heads about in a watchful way just like the prairie-dogs at
+the mouth of their sandy habitations on the Colorado plains.  And then
+again a hundred or two of them come swooping down from the rocky
+pinnacles and sail over our heads--twinkling bits of colour between the
+grey-green sea and the blue-and-white of the sky.  They resent the
+presence of strangers in this far-home of the sea-birds.
+
+It is a terrible business getting that young lady and her paraphernalia
+back into the gig again; for the sea is still heavy, and, of course,
+additional care has now to be taken of the precious canvas.  But at last
+she, and the Laird, and the luncheon-basket, and everything else have
+been got on board; and away we go for the yacht again, in the now
+clearing afternoon.  As we draw further away from the roar of the caves,
+it is more feasible to talk; and naturally we are all very complimentary
+about Mary Avon's sketch in oils.
+
+"Ay," says the Laird, "and it wants but one thing; and I am sure I could
+get Tom Galbraith to put that in for you.  A bit of a yacht, ye know, or
+other sailing vessel, put below the cliffs, would give people a notion
+of the height of the cliffs, do ye see?  I am sure I could get Tom
+Galbraith to put that in for ye."
+
+"I hope Miss Avon won't let Tom Galbraith or anybody else meddle with
+the picture." says Angus Sutherland, with some emphasis. "Why, a yacht!
+Do you think anybody would let a yacht come close to rocks like these!
+As soon as you introduce any making-up like that, the picture is a sham.
+It is the real thing now, as it stands.  Twenty years hence you could
+take up that piece of canvas, and there before you would be the very day
+that you spent here--it would be like finding your old life of twenty
+years before opened up to you with a lightning-flash.  The picture
+is--why I should say it is invaluable, as it stands."
+
+At this somewhat fierce praise, Mary Avon colours a little.  And then
+she says with a gentle hypocrisy--
+
+"Oh, do you really think there is--there is--some likeness to the
+place?"
+
+"It is the place itself!" says he warmly.
+
+"Because," she says, timidly, and yet with a smile, "one likes to have
+one's work appreciated, however stupid it may be.  And--and--if you
+think that--would you like to have it?  Because I should be so proud if
+you would take it--only I am ashamed to offer my sketches to
+anybody----"
+
+"That!" said he, staring at the canvas as if the mines of Golconda were
+suddenly opened to him.  But then he drew back.  "Oh, no," he said; "you
+are very kind--but--but, you know, I cannot.  You would think I had been
+asking for it."
+
+"Well," says Miss Avon, still looking down, "I never was treated like
+this before.  You won't take it?  You don't think it is worth putting in
+your portmanteau?"
+
+At this the young Doctor's face grew very red; but he said boldly--
+
+"Very well, now, if you have been playing fast and loose, you shall be
+punished.  I _will_ take the picture, whether you grudge it me or not.
+And I don't mean to give it up now."
+
+"Oh," said she, very gently, "if it reminds you of the place, I shall be
+very pleased--and--and it may remind you too that I am not likely to
+forget your kindness to poor Mrs. Thompson."
+
+And so this little matter was amicably settled--though the Laird looked
+with a covetous eye on that rough sketch of the rocks of Canna, and
+regretted that he was not to be allowed to ask Tom Galbraith to put in a
+touch or two. And so back to the yacht, and to dinner in the silver
+clear evening; and how beautiful looked this calm bay of Canna, with its
+glittering waters and green shores, after the grim rocks and the heavy
+Atlantic waves!
+
+That evening we pursued the innocent lithe again--our larder was
+becoming terribly empty--and there was a fine take.  But of more
+interest to some of us than the big fish was the extraordinary wonder of
+colour in sea and sky when the sun had gone down; and there was a wail
+on the part of the Laird that Mary Avon had not her colours with her to
+put down some jotting for further use.  Or if on paper: might not she
+write down something of what she saw; and experiment thereafter?  Well,
+if any artist can make head or tail of words in such a case as this,
+here they are for him--as near as our combined forces of observation
+could go.
+
+The vast plain of water around us a blaze of salmon-red--with the waves
+(catching the reflection of the zenith) marked in horizontal lines of
+blue.  The great headland of Canna, between us and the western sky, a
+mass of dark, intense olive-green.  The sky over that a pale, clear
+lemon-yellow.  But the great feature of this evening scene was a mass of
+cloud that stretched all across the heavens--a mass of flaming,
+thunderous, orange-red cloud that began in the far pale mists in the
+east, and came across the blue zenith overhead, burning with a splendid
+glory there, and then stretched over to the west, where it narrowed down
+and was lost in the calm, clear gold of the horizon.  The splendour of
+this great cloud was bewildering to the eyes; one turned gratefully to
+the reflection of it in the sultry red of the sea below, broken by the
+blue lines of waves.  Our attention was not wholly given to the fishing
+or the boat on this lambent evening; perhaps that was the reason we ran
+on a rock, and with difficulty got off again.
+
+Then back to the yacht again about eleven o'clock.  What is this
+terrible news from Master Fred, who was sent off with instructions to
+hunt up any stray crofter he might find, and use such persuasions in the
+shape of Gaelic friendliness and English money as would enable us to
+replenish our larder?  What! that he had walked two miles and seen
+nothing eatable or purchasable but an old hen?  Canna is a beautiful
+place; but we begin to think it is time to be off.
+
+On this still night, with the stars coming out, we cannot go below.  We
+sit on deck and listen to the musical whisper along the shore, and watch
+one golden-yellow planet rising over the dusky peaks of Rum, far in the
+east.  And our young Doctor is talking of the pathetic notices that are
+common in the Scotch papers--in the advertisements of deaths.  "_New
+Zealand papers, please copy._"  "_Canadian papers, please copy._"  When
+you see this prayer appended to the announcement of the death of some
+old woman of seventy or seventy-five, do you not know that it is a
+message to loved ones in distant climes, wanderers who may forget but
+who have not been forgotten? They are messages that tell of a scattered
+race--of a race that once filled the glens of these now almost deserted
+islands.  And surely, when some birthday or other time of recollection
+comes round, those far away,
+
+_Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe,_
+
+must surely bethink themselves of the old people left behind--living in
+Glasgow or Greenock now, perhaps--and must bethink themselves too of the
+land where last they saw the bonny red heather, and where last they
+heard the pipes playing the sad _Farewell, MacCruimin_ as the ship stood
+out to sea. They cannot quite forget the scenes of their youth--the
+rough seas and the red heather and the islands; the wild dancing at the
+weddings; the secret meetings in the glen, with Ailasa, or Morag, or
+Mairi, come down from the sheiling, all alone, a shawl round her head to
+shelter her from the rain, her heart fluttering like the heart of a
+timid fawn.  They cannot forget.
+
+And we, too, we are going away; and it may be that we shall never see
+this beautiful bay or the island there again.  But one of us carries
+away with him a talisman for the sudden revival of old memories.  And
+twenty years hence--that was his own phrase--what will Angus
+Sutherland--perhaps a very great and rich person by that time--what will
+he think when he turns to a certain picture, and recalls the long summer
+day when he rowed with Mary Avon round the wild shores of Canna?
+
+
+
+
+                              *CHAPTER X.*
+
+                     *"DUNVEGAN!--OH!  DUNVEGAN!"*
+
+
+Commander Mary Avon sends her orders below: everything to be made snug
+in the cabins, for there is a heavy sea running outside, and the _White
+Dove_ is already under way. Farewell, then, you beautiful blue bay--all
+rippled into silver now with the breeze--and green shores and
+picturesque cliffs!  We should have lingered here another day or two,
+perhaps, but for the report about that one old hen.  We cannot ration
+passengers and crew on one old hen.
+
+And here, as we draw away from Canna, is the vast panorama of the
+sea-world around us once more--the mighty mountain range of Skye shining
+faintly in the northern skies; Haleval and Haskeval still of a gloomy
+purple in the east; and away beyond these leagues of rushing Atlantic
+the clear blue line of North Uist.  Whither are we bound, then, you
+small captain with the pale face and the big, soft, tender black eyes?
+Do you fear a shower of spray that you have strapped that
+tightly-fitting ulster round the graceful small figure?  And are you
+quite sure that you know whether the wind is on the port or starboard
+beam?
+
+"Look! look! look!" she calls, and our F.R.S., who has been busy over
+the charts, jumps to his feet.
+
+Just at the bow of the vessel we see the great shining black thing
+disappear.  What if there had been a collision?
+
+"You cannot call _that_ a porpoise, any way," says she.  "Why, it must
+have been eighty feet long!"
+
+"Yes, yacht measurement," says he.  "But it had a back fin, which is
+suspicious, and it did not blow.  Now," he adds--for we have been
+looking all round for the re-appearance of the huge stranger--"if you
+want to see real whales at work, just look over there, close under Rum.
+I should say there was a whole shoal of them in the Sound."
+
+And there, sure enough, we see from time to time the white
+spoutings--rising high into the air in the form of the letter V, and
+slowly falling again.  They are too far away for us to hear the sound of
+their blowing, nor can we catch any glimpse, through the best of our
+glasses, of their appearance at the surface. Moreover, the solitary
+stranger that nearly ran against our bows makes no reappearance; he has
+had enough of the wonders of the upper world for a time.
+
+It is a fine sailing morning, and we pay but little attention to the
+fact that the wind, as usual, soon gets to be dead ahead.  So long as
+the breeze blows, and the sun shines, and the white spray flies from the
+bows of the _White Dove_, what care we which harbour is to shelter us
+for the night?  And if we cannot get into any harbour, what then?  We
+carry our own kingdom with us; and we are far from being dependent on
+the one old hen.
+
+But in the midst of much laughing at one of the Laird's good ones--the
+inexhaustible Homesh was again to the fore--a head appears at the top of
+the companion-way; and there is a respectful silence.  Unseemly mirth
+dies away before the awful dignity of this person.
+
+"Angus," she says, with a serious remonstrance on her face, "do you
+believe what scientific people tell you?"
+
+Angus Sutherland starts, and looks up; he has been deep in a chart of
+Loch Bracadaile.
+
+"Don't they say that water finds its own level?  Now do you call this
+water finding its own level?"--and as she propounds this conundrum, she
+clings on tightly to the side of the companion, for, in truth, the
+_White Dove_ is curveting a good deal among those great masses of waves.
+
+"Another tumbler broken!" she exclaims. "Now who left that tumbler on
+the table?"
+
+"I know," says Mary Avon.
+
+"Who was it then?" says the occupant of the companion-way; and we begin
+to tremble for the culprit.
+
+"Why, you yourself!"
+
+"Mary Avon, how can you tell such a story!" says the other, with a stern
+face.
+
+"Oh, but that is so," calls out our Doctor, "for I myself saw you bring
+the tumbler out of the ladies' cabin with water for the flowers."
+
+The universal shout of laughter that overwhelms Madame Dignity is too
+much for her. A certain conscious, lurking smile begins to break through
+the sternness of her face.
+
+"I don't believe a word of it," she declares, firing a shot as she
+retreats.  "Not a word of it.  You are two conspirators.  To tell such a
+story about a tumbler---!"
+
+But at this moment a further assault is made on the majesty of this
+imperious small personage.  There is a thunder at the bows; a rattling
+as of pistol-shots on the decks forward; and at the same moment the
+fag-ends of the spray come flying over the after part of the yacht.
+What becomes of one's dignity when one gets a shower of salt water over
+one's head and neck?  Go down below, madam!--retreat, retreat,
+discomfited!--go, dry your face and your bonny brown hair--and bother us
+no more with your broken tumbler!
+
+And despite those plunging seas and the occasional showers of spray,
+Mary Avon still clings bravely to the rope that is round the tiller; and
+as we are bearing over for Skye on one long tack, she has no need to
+change her position.  And if from time to time her face gets wet with
+the salt water, is it not quickly dried again in the warm sun and the
+breeze? Sun and salt water and sea-air will soon chase away the pallor
+from that gentle face: cannot one observe already--after only a few
+days' sailing--a touch of sun-brown on her cheeks?
+
+And now we are drawing nearer and nearer to Skye, and before us lies the
+lonely Loch Breatal, just under the splendid Coolins.  See how the vast
+slopes of the mountains appear to come sheer down to the lake; and there
+is a soft, sunny green on them--a beautiful, tender, warm colour that
+befits a summer day.  But far above and beyond those sunny slopes a
+different sight appears.  All the clouds of this fair day have gathered
+round the upper portions of the mountains; and that solitary range of
+black and jagged peaks is dark in shadow, dark as if with the
+expectation of thunder.  The Coolins are not beloved of mariners.  Those
+beautiful sunlit ravines are the secret haunts of hurricanes that
+suddenly come out to strike the unwary yachtsman as with the blow of a
+hammer.  _Stand by, forward, then, lads! About ship!  Down with the
+helm, Captain Avon!_--and behold! we are sailing away from the black
+Coolins, and ahead of us there is only the open sea, and the sunlight
+shining on the far cliffs of Canna.
+
+"When your course is due north," remarks Angus Sutherland, who has
+relieved Mary Avon at the helm, "and when the wind is due north, you get
+a good deal of sailing for your money."
+
+The profound truth of this remark becomes more and more apparent as the
+day passes in a series of long tacks which do not seem to be bringing
+those far headlands of Skye much nearer to us.  And if we are beating in
+this heavy sea all day and night, is there not a chance of one or other
+of our women-folk collapsing?  They are excellent sailors, to be
+sure--but--but--
+
+Dr. Sutherland is consulted.  Dr. Sutherland's advice is prompt and
+emphatic.  His sole and only precaution against sea-sickness is simple:
+resolute eating and drinking.  Cure for sea-sickness, after it has set
+in, he declares there is none: to prevent it, eat and drink, and let the
+drink be _brut_ champagne.  So our two prisoners are ordered below to
+undergo that punishment.
+
+And, perhaps, it is the _brut_ champagne, or perhaps it is merely the
+snugness of our little luncheon-party that prompts Miss Avon to remark
+on the exceeding selfishness of yachting and to suggest a proposal that
+fairly takes away our breath by its audacity.
+
+"Now," she says, cheerfully, "I could tell you how you could occupy an
+idle day on board a yacht so that you would give a great deal of
+happiness--quite a shock of delight--to a large number of people."
+
+Well, we are all attention.
+
+"At what cost?" says the financier of our party.
+
+"At no cost."
+
+This is still more promising.  Why should not we instantly set about
+making all those people happy?
+
+"All that you have got to do is to get a copy of the _Field_ or of the
+_Times_ or some such paper."
+
+Yes; and how are we to get any such thing? Rum has no post-office.  No
+mail calls at Canna.  Newspapers do not grow on the rocks of Loch
+Bracadaile.
+
+"However, let us suppose that we have the paper."
+
+"Very well.  All you have to do is to sit down and take the
+advertisements, and write to the people, accepting all their offers on
+their own terms.  The man who wants 500*l.* for his shooting in the
+autumn; the man who will sell his steam-yacht for 7,000*l,*; the curate
+who will take in another youth to board at 200*l.* a year; the lady who
+wants to let her country-house during the London season; all the people
+who are anxious to sell things.  You offer to take them all.  If a man
+has a yacht to let on hire, you will pay for new jerseys for the men.
+If a man has a house to be let, you will take all the fixtures at his
+own valuation.  All you have to do is to write two or three hundred
+letters--as an anonymous person, of course--and you make two or three
+hundred people quite delighted for perhaps a whole week!"
+
+The Laird stared at this young lady as if she had gone mad; but there
+was only a look of complacent friendliness on Mary Avon's face.
+
+"You mean that you write sham letters?" says her hostess.  "You gull
+those unfortunate people into believing that all their wishes are
+realised?"
+
+"But you make them happy!" says Mary Avon, confidently.
+
+"Yes--and the disappointment afterwards!" retorts her friend, almost
+with indignation. "Imagine their disappointment when they find they have
+been duped!  Of course they would write letters and discover that the
+anonymous person had no existence."
+
+"Oh, no!" says Mary Avon, eagerly. "There could be no such great
+disappointment. The happiness would be definite and real for the time.
+The disappointment would only be a slow and gradual thing when they
+found no answer coming to their letter.  You would make them happy for a
+whole week or so by accepting their offer; whereas by not answering
+their letter or letters you would only puzzle them, and the matter would
+drop away into forgetfulness.  Do you not think it would be an excellent
+scheme?"
+
+Come on deck, you people; this girl has got demented.  And behold! as we
+emerge once more into the sunlight and whirling spray and wind, we find
+that we are nearing Skye again on the port tack, and now it is the mouth
+of Loch Bracadaile that we are approaching.  And these pillars of rock,
+outstanding from the cliffs, and worn by the northern seas?
+
+"Why, these must be Macleod's Maidens!" says Angus Sutherland, unrolling
+one of the charts.
+
+And then he discourses to us of the curious fancies of sailors--passing
+the lonely coasts from year to year--and recognising as old friends, not
+any living thing, but the strange conformations of the rocks--and giving
+to these the names of persons and of animals.  And he thinks there is
+something more weird and striking about these solitary and sea-worn
+rocks fronting the great Atlantic than about any comparatively modern
+Sphinx or Pyramid; until we regard the sunlit pillars, and their fretted
+surface and their sharp shadows, with a sort of morbid imagination; and
+we discover how the sailors have fancied them to be stone women; and we
+see in the largest of them--her head and shoulder tilted over a
+bit--some resemblance to the position of the Venus discovered at Milo.
+All this is very fine; but suddenly the sea gets darkened over there; a
+squall comes roaring out of Loch Bracadaile; John of Skye orders the
+boat about; and presently we are running free before this puff from the
+north-east.  Alas! alas! we have no sooner got out of the reach of the
+squall than the wind backs to the familiar north, and our laborious
+beating has to be continued as before.
+
+But we are not discontented.  Is it not enough, as the golden and
+glowing afternoon wears on, to listen to the innocent prattle of
+Denny-mains, whose mind has been fired by the sight of those pillars of
+rock.  He tells us a great many remarkable things--about the similarity
+between Gaelic and Irish, and between Welsh and Armorican; and he
+discusses the use of the Druidical stones, as to whether the priests
+followed serpent-worship or devoted those circles to human sacrifice. He
+tells us about the Picts and Scots; about Fingal and Ossian; about the
+doings of Arthur in his kingdom of Strathclyde.  It is a most innocent
+sort of prattle.
+
+"Yes, sir," says our Doctor--quite gravely--though we are not quite sure
+that he is not making fun of our simple-hearted Laird, "there can be no
+doubt that the Aryan race that first swept over Europe spoke a Celtic
+language, more or less akin to Gaelic, and that they were pushed out, by
+successive waves of population, into Brittany, and Wales, and Ireland,
+and the Highlands.  And I often wonder whether it was they themselves
+that modestly call themselves the foreigners or strangers, and affixed
+that name to the land they laid hold of, from Galicia and Gaul to
+Galloway and Galway? The Gaelic word _gall_, a stranger, you find
+everywhere.  Fingal himself is only _Fionn-gall_--the Fair Stranger;
+_Dubh-gall_--that is, the familiar Dugald--or the Black Stranger--is
+what the Islay people call a Lowlander. _Ru-na-Gaul_, that we passed the
+other day--that is the Foreigner's Point.  I think there can be no doubt
+that the tribes that first brought Aryan civilisation through the west
+of Europe spoke Gaelic or something like Gaelic."
+
+"Ay," said the Laird, doubtfully.  He was not sure of this young man.
+He had heard something about Gaelic being spoken in the Garden of Eden,
+and suspected there might be a joke lying about somewhere.
+
+However, there was no joking about our F.R.S. when he began to tell Mary
+Avon how, if he had time and sufficient interest in such things, he
+would set to work to study the Basque people and their language--that
+strange remnant of the old race who inhabited the west of Europe long
+before Scot, or Briton, or Roman, or Teuton had made his appearance on
+the scene.  Might they not have traditions, or customs, or verbal
+survivals to tell us of their pre-historic forefathers?  The Laird
+seemed quite shocked to hear that his favourite Picts and Scots--and
+Fingal and Arthur and all the rest of them--were mere modern
+interlopers.  What of the mysterious race that occupied these islands
+before the great Aryan tide swept over from the East?
+
+Well, this was bad enough; but when the Doctor proceeded to declare his
+conviction that no one had the least foundation for the various
+conjectures about the purposes of those so-called Druidical stones--that
+it was all a matter of guess-work whether as regarded council-halls,
+grave-stones, altars, or serpent-worship--and that it was quite possible
+these stones were erected by the non-Aryan race who inhabited Europe
+before either Gaul or Roman or Teuton came west, the Laird interrupted
+him, triumphantly--
+
+"But," says he, "the very names of those stones show they are of Celtic
+origin--will ye dispute that?  What is the meaning of _Carnac_, that is
+in Brittany--eh?  Ye know Gaelic?"
+
+"Well, I know that much," said Angus, laughing.  "Carnac means simply
+the place of piled stones.  But the Celts may have found the stones
+there, and given them that name."
+
+"I think," says Miss Avon, profoundly, "that when you go into a question
+of names, you can prove anything.  And I suppose Gaelic is as
+accommodating as any other language."
+
+Angus Sutherland did not answer for a moment; but at last he said,
+rather shyly--
+
+"Gaelic is a very complimentary language, at all events.  Beau is 'a
+woman;' and bean-nachd is 'a blessing.'  _An ti a bheannaich thu_--that
+is, 'the one who blessed you.'"
+
+Very pretty; only we did not know how wildly the young man might not be
+falsifying Gaelic grammar in order to say something nice to Mary Avon.
+
+Patience works wonders.  Dinner-time finds us so far across the Minch
+that we can make out the lighthouse of South Uist.  And all these outer
+Hebrides are now lying in a flood of golden-red light; and on the cliffs
+of Canna, far away in the south-east, and now dwarfed so that they lie
+like a low wall on the sea, there is a paler red, caught from the glare
+of the sunset. And here is the silver tinkle of Master Fred's bell.
+
+On deck after dinner; and the night air is cooler now; and there are
+cigars about; and our young F.R.S. is at the tiller; and Mary Avon is
+singing, apparently to herself, something about a Berkshire farmer's
+daughter. The darkness deepens, and the stars come out; and there is one
+star--larger than the rest, and low down, and burning a steady red--that
+we know to be Ushinish lighthouse.  And then from time to time the
+silence is broken by, "_Stand by, forrard!  'Bout ship!_" and there is a
+rattling of blocks and cordage and then the head-sails fill and away she
+goes again on the other tack.  We have got up to the long headlands of
+Skye at last.
+
+Clear as the night is, the wind still comes in squalls, and we have the
+topsail down.  Into which indentation of that long, low line of dark
+land shall we creep in the darkness?
+
+But John of Skye keeps away from the land. It is past midnight.  There
+is nothing visible but the black sea and the clear sky, and the red star
+of the lighthouse; nothing audible but Mary Avon's humming to herself
+and her friend--the two women sit arm-in-arm under half-a-dozen of
+rugs--some old-world ballad to the monotonous accompaniment of the
+passing seas.
+
+One o'clock: Ushinish light is smaller now, a minute point of red fire,
+and the black line of land on our right looms larger in the dusk. Look
+at the splendour of the phosphorous-stars on the rushing waves.
+
+And at last John of Skye says in an undertone to Angus--
+
+"Will the leddies be going below now?"
+
+"Going below!" he says in reply.  "They are waiting till we get to
+anchor.  We must be just off Dunvegan Loch now."
+
+Then John of Skye makes his confession.
+
+"Oh, yes; I been into Dunvegan Loch more as two or three times; but I
+not like the dark to be with us in going in; and if we lie off till the
+daylight comes, the leddies they can go below to their peds.  And if Dr.
+Sutherland himself would like to see the channel in going in, will I
+send below when the daylight comes?"
+
+"No, no, John; thank you," is the answer. "When I turn in, I turn in for
+good.  I will leave you to find out the channel for yourself."
+
+And so there is a clearance of the deck, and rugs and camp-stools handed
+down the companion.  _Deoch-an-doruis_ in the candle-lit saloon?  To
+bed--to bed!
+
+It is about five o'clock in the morning that the swinging out of the
+anchor-chain causes the yacht to tremble from stem to stern; and the
+sleepers start in their sleep, but are vaguely aware that they are at a
+safe anchorage at last. And do you know where the brave _White Dove_ is
+lying now?  Surely if the new dawn brings any stirring of wind--and if
+there is a sound coming over to us from this far land of legend and
+romance--it is the wild, sad wail of Dunvegan!  The mists are clearing
+from the hills; the day breaks wan and fair; the great grey castle,
+touched by the early sunlight, looks down on the murmuring sea.  And is
+it the sea, or is it the cold wind of the morning, that sings and sings
+to us in our dreams--
+
+_Dunvegan--oh!  Dunvegan!_
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XI.*
+
+                           *DRAWING NEARER.*
+
+
+She is all alone on deck.  The morning sun shines on the beautiful blue
+bay; on the great castle perched on the rocks over there; and on the
+wooded green hills beyond. She has got a canvas fixed on her easel; she
+sings to herself as she works.
+
+Now this English young lady must have beguiled the tedium of her long
+nursing in Edinburgh by making a particular acquaintance with Scotch
+ballads; or how otherwise could we account for her knowledge of the
+"Song of Ulva," and now of the "Song of Dunvegan?"
+
+_Macleod the faithful, and fearing none!_
+  _Dunvegan--oh!  Dunvegan!_
+
+--she hums to herself as she is busy with this rough sketch of sea and
+shore.  How can she be aware that Angus Sutherland is at this very
+moment in the companion way, and not daring to stir hand or foot lest he
+should disturb her?
+
+_Friends and foes had our passion thwarted,_
+
+she croons to herself, though, indeed, there is no despair at all in her
+voice, but a perfect contentment--
+
+_But true, tender, and lion-hearted,_
+_Lived he on, and from life departed,_
+  _Macleod, whose rival is breathing none!_
+    _Dunvegan--oh, Dunvegan!_
+
+She is pleased with the rapidity of her work. She tries to whistle a
+little bit.  Or, perhaps it is only the fresh morning air that has put
+her in such good spirits?
+
+_Yestreen the Queen had four Maries._
+
+What has that got to do with the sketch of the shining grey castle?
+Among these tags and ends of ballads, the young Doctor at last becomes
+emboldened to put in an appearance.
+
+"Good morning, Miss Avon," says he; "you are busy at work again?"
+
+She is not in the least surprised.  She has got accustomed to his coming
+on deck before the others; they have had a good deal of quiet chatting
+while as yet the Laird was only adjusting his high white collar and
+satin neckcloth.
+
+"It is only a sketch," said she, in a rapid and highly business-like
+fashion, "but I think I shall be able to sell it.  You know most people
+merely value pictures for their association with things they are
+interested in themselves.  A Yorkshire farmer would rather have a
+picture of his favourite cob than any Raphael or Titian.  And the
+ordinary English squire: I am sure that you know in his own heart he
+prefers one of Herring's farm yard pieces to Leonardo's _Last Supper_.
+Well, if some yachting gentleman, who has been in this loch, should see
+this sketch, he will probably buy it, however bad it is, just because it
+interests him----"
+
+"But you don't really mean to sell it?" said he.
+
+"That depends," said she demurely, "on whether I get any offer for it."
+
+"Why," he exclaimed, "the series of pictures you are now making should
+be an invaluable treasure to you all your life long: a permanent record
+of a voyage that you seem to enjoy very much.  I almost shrink from
+robbing you of that one of Canna; still, the temptation is too great.
+And you propose to sell them all?"
+
+"What I can sell of them," she says; and then she adds, rather shyly,
+"You know I could not very well afford to keep them all for myself.
+I--I have a good many almoners in London; and I devote to them what I
+can get for my scrawls--that is, I deduct the cost of the frames, and
+keep the rest for them.  It is not a large sum."
+
+"Any other woman would spend it in jewellery and dresses," says he
+bluntly.
+
+At this, Miss Mary Avon flushes slightly, and hastily draws his
+attention to a small boat that is approaching.  Dr. Sutherland does not
+pay any heed to the boat.
+
+He is silent for a second or so; and then he says, with an effort to
+talk in a cheerful and matter-of-fact way--
+
+"You have not sent ashore yet this morning: don't you know there is a
+post-office at Dunvegan?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I heard so.  But the men are below at breakfast, I think, and
+I am in no hurry to send, for there won't be any letters for me, I
+know."
+
+"Oh, indeed," he says, with seeming carelessness, "it must be a long
+time since you have heard from your friends."
+
+"I have not many friends to hear from," she answers, with a light laugh,
+"and those I have don't trouble me with many letters.  I suppose they
+think I am in very good hands at present."
+
+"Oh, yes--no doubt," says he, and suddenly he begins to talk in warm
+terms of the delightfulness of the voyage.  He is quite charmed with the
+appearance of Dunvegan Loch and castle.  A more beautiful morning he
+never saw.  And in the midst of all this enthusiasm the small boat comes
+alongside.
+
+There is an old man in the boat, and when he has fastened his oars, he
+says a few words to Angus Sutherland, and hands up a big black bottle.
+Our young Doctor brings the bottle over to Mary Avon.  He seems to be
+very much pleased with everything this morning.
+
+"Now, is not that good-natured?" says he. "It is a bottle of fresh milk,
+with the compliments of ----, of Uginish.  Isn't it good-natured?"
+
+"Oh, indeed it is," says she, plunging her hand into her pocket.  "You
+must let me give the messenger half-a-crown."
+
+"No, no; that is not the Highland custom," says the Doctor; and
+therewith he goes below, and fetches up another black bottle, and pours
+out a glass of whiskey with his own hand, and presents it to the ancient
+boatman.  You should have seen the look of surprise in the old man's
+face when Angus Sutherland said something to him in the Gaelic.
+
+And alas! and alas!--as we go ashore on this beautiful bright day, we
+have to give up for ever the old Dunvegan of many a dream--the dark and
+solitary keep that we had imagined perched high above the Atlantic
+breakers--the sheer precipices, the awful sterility, the wail of
+lamentation along the lonely shores.  This is a different picture
+altogether that Mary Avon has been trying to put down on her canvas--a
+spacious, almost modern-looking, but nevertheless picturesque castle,
+sheltered from the winds by softly wooded hills, a bit of smooth, blue
+water below, and further along the shores the cheerful evidences of
+fertility and cultivation.  The wail of Dunvegan?  Why, here is a brisk
+and thriving village, with a post-office, and a shop, and a building
+that looks uncommonly like an inn; and there, dotted all about, and
+encroaching on the upper moorland, any number of those small crofts that
+were once the pride of the Highlands and that gave to England the most
+stalwart of her regiments.  Here are no ruined huts and voiceless
+wastes; but a cheerful, busy picture of peasant-life; the strapping
+wenches at work in the small farm-yards, well-built and frank of face;
+the men well clad; the children well fed and merry enough.  It is a
+scene that delights the heart of our good friend of Denny-mains.  If we
+had but time, he would fain go in among the tiny farms, and inquire
+about the rent of the holdings, and the price paid for those picturesque
+little beasts that the artists are for ever painting--with a louring sky
+beyond, and a dash of sunlight in front.  But our Doctor is obdurate.
+He will not have Mary Avon walk further; she must return to the yacht.
+
+But on our way back, as she is walking by the side of the road, he
+suddenly puts his hand on her arm, apparently to stop her. Slight as the
+touch is, she naturally looks surprised.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he says, hastily, "but I thought you would rather
+not tread on it----"
+
+He is regarding a weed by the wayside--a thing that looks like a
+snapdragon of some sort.  We did not expect to find a hard-headed man of
+science betray this trumpery sentiment about a weed.
+
+"I thought you would rather not tread upon it when you knew it was a
+stranger," he says, in explanation of that rude assault upon her arm.
+"That is not an English plant at all; it is the _Mimulus_, its real home
+is in America."
+
+We began to look with more interest on the audacious small foreigner
+that had boldly adventured across the seas.
+
+"Oh," she says, looking back along the road, "I hope I have not trampled
+any of them down."
+
+"Well, it does not _much_ matter," he admits, "for the plant is becoming
+quite common now in parts of the West Highlands; but I thought as it was
+a stranger, and come all the way across the Atlantic on a voyage of
+discovery, you would be hospitable.  I suppose the Gulf-stream brought
+the first of them over."
+
+"And if they had any choice in the matter," says Mary Avon, looking
+down, and speaking with a little self-conscious deliberation, "and if
+they wanted to be hospitably received, they showed their good sense in
+coming to the West Highlands."
+
+After that there was a dead silence on the part of Angus Sutherland.
+But why should he have been embarrassed?  There was no compliment
+levelled at him that he should blush like a schoolboy.  It was quite
+true that Miss Avon's liking--even love--for the West Highlands was
+becoming very apparent; but Banffshire is not in the West Highlands.
+What although Angus Sutherland could speak a few words in the Gaelic
+tongue to an old boatman?  He came from Banff.  Banffshire is not in the
+West Highlands.
+
+Then that afternoon at the great castle itself: what have we but a
+confused recollection of twelfth-century towers; and walls nine feet
+thick; and ghost-chambers; and a certain fairy-flag, that is called the
+_Bratach-Sith_; and the wide view over the blue Atlantic; and of a great
+kindness that made itself visible in the way of hothouse flowers and
+baskets of fruit, and what not?  The portraits, too: the various
+centuries got mixed up with the old legends, until we did not know in
+which face to look for some transmitted expression that might tell of
+the Cave of Uig or the Uamh-na-Ceann. But there was one portrait there,
+quite modern, and beautiful, that set all the tourist-folk a raving, so
+lovely were the life-like eyes of it; and the Laird was bold enough to
+say to the gentle lady who was so good as to be our guide, that it would
+be one of the greatest happinesses of his life if he might be allowed to
+ask Mr. Galbraith, the well-known artist of Edinburgh, to select a young
+painter to come up to Dunvegan and make a copy of this picture for him,
+Denny-mains.  And Dr. Sutherland could scarcely come away from that
+beautiful face; and our good Queen T. was quite charmed with it; and as
+for Mary Avon, when one of us regarded her, behold! as she looked up,
+there was a sort of moisture in the soft black eyes.
+
+What was she thinking of?  That it must be a fine thing to be so
+beautiful a woman, and charm the eyes of all men?  But now--now that we
+had had this singing-bird with us on board the yacht for so long a
+time--would any one of us have admitted that she was rather plain?  It
+would not have gone well with any one who had ventured to say so to the
+Laird of Denny-mains, at all events.  And as for our sovereign-lady and
+mistress, these were the lines which she always said described Mary
+Avon:--
+
+    Was never seen thing to be praised derre,[#]
+    Nor under blacke cloud so bright a sterre,
+    As she was, as they saiden, every one
+    That her behelden in her blacke weed;
+    And yet she stood, full low and still, alone,
+    Behind all other folk, in little brede,[#]
+    And nigh the door, ay under shame's drede;
+    Simple of bearing, debonair of cheer,
+    With a full sur�[#] looking and mannere.
+
+[#] _derre_, dearer.
+
+[#] _in little brede_, without display.
+
+[#] _sur�_, frank.
+
+
+How smart the saloon of the _White Dove_ looked that evening at dinner,
+with those geraniums, and roses, and fuchsias, and what not, set amid
+the tender green of the maidenhair fern!  But all the same there was a
+serious discussion.  Fruit, flowers, vegetables, and fresh milk, however
+welcome, fill no larder; and Master Fred had returned with the doleful
+tale that all his endeavours to purchase a sheep at one of the
+neighbouring farms had been of no avail.  Forthwith we resolve to make
+another effort.  Far away, on the outer shores of Dunvegan Loch, we can
+faintly descry, in the glow of the evening, some crofter's huts on the
+slopes of the hill.  Down with the gig, then, boys; in with the
+fishing-rods; and away for the distant shores, where haply, some tender
+ewe-lamb, or brace of quacking duck, or some half-dozen half-starved
+fowls may be withdrawn from the reluctant tiller of the earth!
+
+It is a beautiful clear evening, with lemon-gold glory in the
+north-west.  And our stout-sinewed Doctor is rowing stroke, and there is
+a monotonous refrain of
+
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+
+"We must give you a wage as one of the hands, Angus," says Queen T.
+
+"I am paid already," says he.  "I would work my passage through for the
+sketch of Canna that Miss Avon gave me."
+
+"Would you like to ask the other men whether they would take the same
+payment?" says Miss Avon, in modest depreciation of her powers.
+
+"Do not say anything against the landscape ye gave to Dr. Sutherland,"
+observes the Laird.  "No, no; there is great merit in it. I have told ye
+before I would like to show it to Tom Galbraith before it goes south; I
+am sure he would approve of it.  Indeed, he is jist such a friend of
+mine that I would take the leeberty of asking him to give it a bit touch
+here and there--what an experienced artist would see amiss ye know----"
+
+"Mr. Galbraith may be an experienced artist," says our Doctor friend
+with unnecessary asperity, "but he is not going to touch that picture."
+
+"Ah can tell ye," says the Laird, who is rather hurt by this rejection,
+"that the advice of Tom Galbraith has been taken by the greatest artists
+in England.  He was up in London last year, and was at the studio of one
+of the first of the Acadameecians, and that very man was not ashamed to
+ask the opeenion of Tom Galbraith.  And says Tom to him, 'The face is
+very fine, but the right arm is out of drawing.'  You would think that
+impertinent? The Acadameecian, I can tell you, thought differently.
+Says he, 'That has been my own opeenion, but no one would ever tell me
+so; and I would have left it as it is had ye no spoken.'"
+
+"I have no doubt the Academacian who did not know when his picture was
+out of drawing was quite right to take the advice of Tom Galbraith,"
+says our stroke-oar.  "But Tom Galbraith is not going to touch Miss
+Avon's sketch of Canna----" and here the fierce altercation is stopped,
+for stroke-oar puts a fresh spurt on, and we hear another sound--
+
+_Soon the freshening breeze will blow._
+_Well show the snowy canvas on her,_
+    _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+  _A long, strong pull together,_
+    _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+
+Well, what was the result of our quest? After we had landed Master Fred,
+and sent him up the hills, and gone off fishing for lithe for an hour or
+so, we returned to the shore in the gathering dusk.  We found our
+messenger seated on a rock, contentedly singing a Gaelic song, and
+plucking a couple of fowls which was all the provender he had secured.
+It was in vain that he tried to cheer us by informing us that the
+animals in question had cost only sixpence a-piece.  We knew that they
+were not much bigger than thrushes. Awful visions of tinned meats began
+to rise before us.  In gloom we took the steward and the microscopic
+fowls on board, and set out for the yacht.
+
+But the Laird did not lose his spirits.  He declared that
+self-preservation was the first law of nature, and that, despite the
+injunctions of the Wild Birds' Protection Act, he would get out his gun
+and shoot the first brood of "flappers" he saw about those lonely lochs.
+And he told us such a "good one" about Homesh that we laughed nearly all
+the way back to the yacht.  Provisions?  We were independent of
+provisions!  With a handful of rice a day we would cross the
+Atlantic--we would cross twenty Atlantics--so long as we were to be
+regaled and cheered by the "good ones" of our friend of Denny-mains.
+
+Dr. Sutherland, too, seemed in no wise depressed by the famine in the
+land.  In the lamp-lit saloon, as we gathered round the table, and cards
+and things were brought out, and the Laird began to brew his toddy, the
+young Doctor maintained that no one on land could imagine the snugness
+of life on board a yacht.  And now he had almost forgotten to speak of
+leaving us; perhaps it was the posting of the paper on Radiolarians,
+along with other MSS., that had set his mind free.  But touching that
+matter of the Dunvegan post-office: why had he been so particular in
+asking Mary Avon if she were not expecting letters; and why did he so
+suddenly grow enthusiastic about the scenery on learning that the young
+lady, on her travels, was not pestered with correspondence?  Miss Avon
+was not a Cabinet Minister.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XII.*
+
+                     *THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW.*
+
+
+The last instructions given to John of Skye that night were large and
+liberal.  At break of day he was to sail for any port he might chance to
+encounter on the wide seas.  So long as Angus Sutherland did not speak
+of returning, what did it matter to us?--Loch Boisdale, Loch Seaforth,
+Stornaway, St. Kilda, the North Pole were all the same.  It is true that
+of fresh meat we had on board only two fowls about the size of wrens;
+but of all varieties of tinned meats and fruit we had an abundant store.
+And if perchance we were forced to shoot a sheep on the Flannen Islands,
+would not the foul deed be put down to the discredit of those dastardly
+Frenchmen? When you rise up as a nation and guillotine all the
+respectable folk in the country, it is only to be expected of you
+thereafter that you should go about the seas shooting other people's
+sheep.
+
+And indeed when we get on deck after breakfast, we find that John of
+Skye has fulfilled his instructions to the letter; that is to say, he
+must have started at daybreak to get away so far from Dunvegan and the
+headlands of Skye.  But as for going farther?  There is not a speck of
+cloud in the dome of blue; there is not a ripple on the dazzling sea;
+there is not a breath of wind to stir the great white sails all aglow in
+the sunlight; nor is there even enough of the Atlantic swell to move the
+indolent tiller.  How John of Skye has managed to bring us so far on so
+calm a morning remains a mystery.
+
+"And the glass shows no signs of falling," says our young Doctor quite
+regretfully: does he long for a hurricane, that so he may exhibit his
+sailor-like capacities?
+
+But Mary Avon, with a practical air, is arranging her easel on deck, and
+fixing up a canvas, and getting out the tubes she wants--the while she
+absently sings to herself something about
+
+  _Beauty lies_
+  _In many eyes,_
+_But love in yours, my Nora Creina._
+
+And what will she attack now?  Those long headlands of Skye, dark in
+shadow, with a glow of sunlight along their summits; or those lonely
+hills of Uist set far amid the melancholy main; or those vaster and
+paler mountains of Harris, that rise on the north of the dreaded Sound?
+
+"Well, you _have_ courage," says Angus Sutherland, admiringly, "to try
+to make a picture out of _that_!"
+
+"Oh," she says, modestly, though she is obviously pleased, "that is a
+pet theory of mine.  I try for ordinary every-day effects, without any
+theatrical business; and if I had only the power to reach them, I know I
+should surprise people.  Because you know most people go through the
+world with a sort of mist before their eyes; and they are awfully
+grateful to you when you suddenly clap a pair of spectacles on their
+nose and make them see things as they are.  I cannot do it as yet, you
+know; but there is no harm in trying."
+
+"I think you do it remarkably well," he says; "but what are you to make
+of that?--nothing but two great sheets of blue, with a line of bluer
+hills between?"
+
+But Miss Avon speedily presents us with the desired pair of spectacles.
+Instead of the cloudless blue day we had imagined it to be, we find that
+there are low masses of white cloud along the Skye cliffs, and these
+throw long reflections on the glassy sea, and moreover we begin to
+perceive that the calm vault around us is not an uninterrupted blue, but
+melts into a pale green as it nears the eastern horizon.  Angus
+Sutherland leaves the artist to her work.  He will not interrupt her by
+idle talk.
+
+There is no idle talk going forward where the Laird is concerned.  He
+has got hold of an attentive listener in the person of his hostess, who
+is deep in needlework; and he is expounding to her more clearly than
+ever the merits of the great Semple case, pointing out more particularly
+how the charges in the major proposition are borne out by the extracts
+in the minor.  Yes; and he has caught the critics, too, on the hip.
+What about the discovery of those clever gentlemen that Genesis X. and
+10 was incorrect?  They thought they were exceedingly smart in proving
+that the founders of Babel were the descendants, not of Ham, but of
+Shem.  But when the ruins of Babel were examined, what then?
+
+"Why, it was distinctly shown that the founders were the descendants of
+Ham, after all!" says Denny-mains, triumphantly.  "What do ye think of
+that, Dr. Sutherland?"
+
+Angus Sutherland starts from a reverie: he has not been listening.
+
+"Of what?" he says.  "The Semple case?"
+
+"Ay."
+
+"Oh, well," he says, rather carelessly, "all that wrangling is as good
+an occupation as any other--to keep people from thinking."
+
+The Laird stares, as if he had not heard aright.  Angus Sutherland is
+not aware of having said anything startling.  He continues quite
+innocently--
+
+"Any occupation is valuable enough that diverts the mind--that is why
+hard work is conducive to complete mental health; it does not matter
+whether it is grouse-shooting, or commanding an army, or wrangling about
+major or minor propositions.  If a man were continually to be facing the
+awful mystery of existence--asking the record of the earth and the stars
+how he came to be here, and getting no answer at all--he must inevitably
+go mad. The brain could not stand it.  If the human race had not busied
+itself with wars and commerce, and so forth, it must centuries ago have
+committed suicide.  That is the value of hard work--to keep people from
+thinking of the unknown around them; the more a man is occupied, the
+happier he is--it does not matter whether he occupies himself with
+School Boards, or salmon-fishing, or the prosecution of a heretic."
+
+He did not remark the amazed look on the Laird's face, nor yet that Mary
+Avon had dropped her painting and was listening.
+
+"The fact is," he said, with a smile, "if you are likely to fall to
+thinking about the real mysteries of existence anywhere, it is among
+solitudes like these, where you see what a trivial little accident human
+life is in the history of the earth.  You can't think about such things
+in Regent Street; the cigar-shops, the cabs, the passing people occupy
+you.  But here you are brought back as it were to all sorts of first
+principles; and commonplaces appear somehow in their original freshness.
+In Regent Street you no doubt know that life is a strange thing, and
+that death is a strange thing, because you have been told so, and you
+believe it, and think no more about it.  But here--with the seas and
+skies round you, and with the silence of the night making you think, you
+_feel_ the strangeness of these things.  Now just look over there; the
+blue sea, and the blue sky, and the hills--it is a curious thing to
+think that they will be shining there just as they are now--on just such
+another day as this--and you unable to see them or anything else--passed
+away like a ghost.  And the _White Dove_ will be sailing up here; and
+John will be keeping an eye on Ushinish lighthouse; but your eyes won't
+be able to see anything----"
+
+"Well, Angus, I do declare," exclaims our sovereign mistress, "you have
+chosen a comforting thing to talk about this morning.  Are we to be
+always thinking about our coffin?"
+
+"On the contrary," says the young Doctor; "I was only insisting on the
+wholesomeness of people occupying themselves diligently with some
+distraction or other, however trivial.  And how do you think the Semple
+case will end, sir?"
+
+But our good friend of Denny-mains was far too deeply shocked and
+astounded to reply. The great Semple case a trivial thing--a
+distraction--an occupation to keep people from serious thinking!  The
+public duties, too, of the Commissioner for the Burgh of Strathgovan;
+were these to be regarded as a mere plaything? The new steam fire-engine
+was only a toy, then?  The proposed new park and the addition to the
+rates were to be regarded as a piece of amiable diversion?
+
+The Laird knew that Angus Sutherland had not read the _Vestiges of
+Creation_, and that was a hopeful sign.  But, _Vestiges_ or no
+_Vestiges_, what were the young men of the day coming to if their daring
+speculations led them to regard the most serious and important concerns
+of life as a pastime?  The Commissioners for the Burgh of Strathgoven
+were but a parcel of children, then, playing on the sea-shore, and
+unaware of the awful deeps beyond?
+
+"I am looking at these things only as a doctor," says Dr. Sutherland,
+lightly--seeing that the Laird is too dumbfounded to answer his
+question, "and I sometimes think a doctor's history of civilisation
+would be an odd thing, if only you could get at the physiological facts
+of the case.  I should like to know, for example, what Napoleon had for
+supper on the night before Waterloo.  Something indigestible, you may be
+sure; if his brain had been clear on the 15th, he would have smashed the
+Allies, and altered modern history.  I should have greatly liked, too,
+to make the acquaintance of the man who first announced his belief that
+infants dying unbaptised were to suffer eternal torture: I think it must
+have been his liver.  I should like to have examined him."
+
+"I should like to have poisoned him," says Mary Avon, with a flash of
+anger in the soft eyes.
+
+"Oh, no; the poor wretch was only the victim of some ailment," said our
+Doctor, charitably.  "There must have been something very much the
+matter with Calvin, too.  I know I could have cured Schopenhauer of his
+pessimism if he had let me put him on a wholesome regimen."
+
+The Laird probably did not know who Schopenhauer was; but the audacity
+of the new school was altogether too much for him.
+
+"I--I suppose," he said, stammering in his amazement, "ye would have
+taken Joan of Arc, and treated her as a lunatic?"
+
+"Oh, no; not as a confirmed lunatic," he answered, quite simply.  "But
+the diagnosis of that case is obvious; I think she could have been
+cured.  All that Joanna Southcote wanted was a frank physician."
+
+The Laird rose and went forward to where Mary Avon was standing at her
+easel.  He had had enough.  The criticism of landscape painting was more
+within his compass.
+
+"Very good--very good," says he, as if his whole attention had been
+occupied by her sketching.  "The reflections on the water are just fine.
+Ye must let me show all your sketches to Tom Galbraith before ye go back
+to the south."
+
+"I hear you have been talking about the mysteries of existence," she
+says, with a smile.
+
+"Oh, ay, it is easy to talk," he says, sharply--and not willing to
+confess that he has been driven away from the field.  "I am afraid there
+is an unsettling tendency among the young men of the present day--a want
+of respect for things that have been established by the common sense of
+the world.  Not that I am against all innovation.  No, no.  The world
+cannot stand still.  I myself, now; do ye know that I was among the
+first in Glasgow to hold that it might be permissible to have an organ
+to lead the psalmody of a church?"
+
+"Oh, indeed," says she, with much respect.
+
+"That is true.  No, no; I am not one of the bigoted.  Give me the
+Essentials, and I do not care if ye put a stone cross on the top of the
+church.  I tell ye that honestly; I would not object even to a cross on
+the building if all was sound within."
+
+"I am sure you are quite right, sir," says Mary Avon, gently.
+
+"But no tampering with the Essentials. And as for the millinery, and
+incense, and crucifixes of they poor craytures that have not the courage
+to go right over to Rome--who stop on this side, and play-act at being
+Romans--it is seeckening--perfectly seeckening.  As for the Romans
+themselves, I do not condemn them.  No, no.  If they are in error, I
+doubt not they believe with a good conscience.  And when I am in a
+foreign town, and one o' their processions of priests and boys comes by,
+I raise my hat.  I do indeed."
+
+"Oh, naturally," says Mary Avon.
+
+"No, no," continues Denny-mains, warmly, "there is none of the bigot
+about me.  There is a minister of the Episcopalian Church that I know;
+and there is no one more welcome in my house: I ask him to say grace
+just as I would a minister of my own Church."
+
+"And which is that, sir?" she asked meekly.
+
+The Laird stares at her.  Is it possible that she has heard him so
+elaborately expound the Semple prosecution, and not be aware to what
+denomination he belongs?
+
+"The Free--the Free Church, of course," he says, with some surprise.
+"Have ye not seen the _Report of Proceedings_ in the Semple case?"
+
+"No, I have not," she answers, timidly. "You have been so kind in
+explaining it that--that a printed report was quite unnecessary."
+
+"But I will get ye one--I will get ye one directly," says he.  "I have
+several copies in my portmanteau.  And ye will see my name in front as
+one of the elders who considered it fit and proper that a full report
+should be published, so as to warn the public against these inseedious
+attacks against our faith.  Don't interrupt your work, my lass; but I
+will get ye the pamphlet; and whenever you want to sit down for a time,
+ye will find it most interesting reading--most interesting."
+
+And so the worthy Laird goes below to fetch that valued report.  And
+scarcely has he disappeared than a sudden commotion rages over the deck.
+Behold! a breeze coming swiftly over the sea--ruffling the glassy deep
+as it approaches!  Angus Sutherland jumps to the tiller.  The head-sails
+fill; and the boat begins to move.  The lee-sheets are hauled taut; and
+now the great mainsail is filled too.  There is a rippling and hissing
+of water; and a new stir of life and motion throughout the vessel from
+stem to stern.
+
+It seems but the beginning of the day now, though it is near lunch-time.
+Mary Avon puts away her sketch of the dead calm, and sits down just
+under the lee of the boom, where the cool breeze is blowing along.  The
+Laird, having brought up the pamphlet, is vigorously pacing the deck for
+his morning exercise; we have all awakened from these idle reveries
+about the mystery of life.
+
+"Ha, ha," he says, coming aft, "this is fine--this is fine now.  Why not
+give the men a glass of whiskey all round for whistling up such a fine
+breeze?  Do ye think they would object?"
+
+"Better give them a couple of bottles of beer for their dinner,"
+suggests Queen T., who is no lover of whiskey.
+
+But do you think the Laird is to be put off his story by any such
+suggestion?  We can see by his face that he has an anecdote to fire off;
+is it not apparent that his mention of whiskey was made with a purpose?
+
+"There was a real good one," says he--and the laughter is already
+twinkling in his eyes, "about the man that was apologising before his
+family for having been drinking whiskey with some friends.  'Ay,' says
+he, 'they just held me and forced it down my throat.'  Then says his
+son--a little chap about ten--says he, 'I think I could ha' held ye
+mysel', feyther'--ho! ho! ho!' says he, 'I think I could ha' held ye
+mysel', feyther;'" and the Laird laughed, and laughed again, till the
+tears came into his eyes.  We could see that he was still internally
+laughing at that good one when we went below for luncheon.
+
+At luncheon, too, the Laird quite made up his feud with Angus
+Sutherland, for he had a great many other good ones to tell about
+whiskey and whiskey drinking; and he liked a sympathetic audience.  But
+this general merriment was suddenly dashed by an ominous suggestion
+coming from our young Doctor.  Why, he asked, should we go on fighting
+against these northerly winds?  Why not turn and run before them?
+
+"Then you want to leave us, Angus," said his hostess reproachfully.
+
+"Oh, no," he said, and with some colour in his face.  "I don't want to
+go, but I fear I must very soon now.  However, I did not make that
+suggestion on my own account; if I were pressed for time, I could get
+somewhere where I could catch the _Clansman_."
+
+Mary Avon looked down, saying nothing.
+
+"You would not leave the ship like that," says his hostess.  "You would
+not run away, surely?  Rather than that we will turn at once. Where are
+we now?"
+
+"If the breeze lasts, we will get over to Uist, to Loch na Maddy, this
+evening, but you must not think of altering your plans on my account.  I
+made the suggestion because of what Captain John was saying."
+
+"Very well," says our Admiral of the Fleet, taking no heed of properly
+constituted authority.  "Suppose we set out on our return voyage
+to-morrow morning, going round the other side of Skye for a change.  But
+you know, Angus, it is not fair of you to run away when you say yourself
+there is nothing particular calls you to London."
+
+"Oh," says he, "I am not going to London just yet.  I am going to Banff,
+to see my father.  There is an uncle of mine, too, on a visit to the
+manse."
+
+"Then you will be coming south again?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then why not come another cruise with us on your way back?"
+
+It was not like this hard-headed young Doctor to appear so embarrassed.
+
+"That is what I should like very much myself," he stammered, "if--if I
+were not in the way of your other arrangements."
+
+"We shall make no other arrangements," says the other definitely.  "Now
+that is a promise, mind.  No drawing back.  Mary will put it down in
+writing, and hold you to it."
+
+Mary Avon had not looked up all this time.
+
+"You should not press Dr. Sutherland too much," she says shyly; "perhaps
+he has other friends he would like to see before leaving Scotland."
+
+The hypocrite!  Did she want to make Angus Sutherland burst a
+blood-vessel in protesting that of all the excursions he had made in his
+life this would be to him for ever the most memorable; and that a
+repetition or extension of it was a delight in the future almost too
+great to think of?  However, she seemed pleased that he spoke so warmly,
+and she did not attempt to contradict him.  If he had really enjoyed all
+this rambling idleness, it would no doubt the better fit him for his
+work in the great capital.
+
+We beat in to Loch na Maddy--that is, the Lake of the Dogs--in the quiet
+evening; and the rather commonplace low-lying hills, and the plain
+houses of the remote little village, looked beautiful enough under the
+glow of the western skies.  And we went ashore, and walked inland for a
+space, through an intricate network of lagoons inbranching from the sea;
+and we saw the trout leaping and making circles on the gold-red pools,
+and watched the herons rising from their fishing and winging their slow
+flight across the silent lakes.
+
+And it was a beautiful night, too, and we had a little singing on deck.
+Perhaps there was an under-current of regret in the knowledge that
+now--for this voyage, at least--we had touched our farthest point.
+To-morrow we were to set out again for the south.
+
+
+
+
+                            *CHAPTER XIII.*
+
+                        *FERDINAND AND MIRANDA.*
+
+
+The wind was laughing at Angus Sutherland. All the time we had been
+sailing north it had blown from the north; how that we turned our faces
+eastward, it wheeled round to the east, as if it would imprison him for
+ever in this floating home.
+
+"_You would fain get away_"--this was the mocking sound that one of us
+seemed to hear in those light airs of the morning that blew along the
+white canvas--"_the world calls; ambition, fame, the eagerness of
+rivalry, the spell that science throws over her disciples, all these are
+powerful, and they draw you, and you would fain get away.  But the hand
+of the wind is uplifted against you; you may fret as you will, but you
+are not round Ru Hunish yet!_"
+
+And perhaps the imaginative small creature who heard these strange
+things in the light breeze against which we were fighting our way across
+the Minch may have been forming her own plans.  Angus Sutherland, she
+used often to say, wanted humanising.  He was too proud and scornful in
+the pride of his knowledge; the gentle hand of a woman was needed to
+lead him into more tractable ways.  And then this Mary Avon, with her
+dexterous, nimble woman's wit, and her indomitable courage, and her life
+and spirit, and abounding cheerfulness; would she not be a splendid
+companion for him during his long and hard struggle?  This born
+match-maker had long ago thrown away any notion about the Laird
+transferring our singing-bird to Denny-mains.  She had almost forgotten
+about the project of bringing Howard Smith, the Laird's nephew, and
+half-compelling him to marry Mary Avon: that was preposterous on the
+face of it.  But she had grown accustomed, during those long days of
+tranquil idleness, to see our young Doctor and Mary Avon together, cut
+off from all the distractions of the world, a new Paul and Virginia.
+Why--she may have asked herself--should not these two solitary waifs,
+thus thrown by chance together on the wide ocean of existence, why
+should they not cling to each other and strengthen each other in the
+coming days of trial and storm?  The strange, pathetic, phantasmal farce
+of life is brief; they cannot seize it and hold it, and shape it to
+their own ends; they know not whence it comes, or whither it goes; but
+while the brief, strange thing lasts, they can grasp each other's hand,
+and make sure--amid all the unknown things around them, the mountains,
+and the wide seas, and the stars--of some common, humble, human
+sympathy.  It is so natural to grasp the hand of another in the presence
+of something vast and unknown.
+
+The rest of us, at all events, have no time for such vague dreams and
+reveries.  There is no idleness on board the _White Dove_ out here on
+the shining deep.  Dr. Sutherland has rigged up for himself a sort of
+gymnasium by putting a rope across the shrouds to the peak halyards; and
+on this rather elastic cross-bar he is taking his morning exercise by
+going through a series of performances, no doubt picked up in Germany.
+Miss Avon is busy with a sketch of the long headland running out to
+Vaternish Point; though, indeed, this smooth Atlantic roll makes it
+difficult for her to keep her feet, and introduces a certain amount of
+haphazard into her handiwork. The Laird has brought on deck a formidable
+portfolio of papers, no doubt relating to the public affairs of
+Strathgovan; and has put on his gold spectacles; and has got his pencil
+in hand.  Master Fred is re-arranging the cabins; the mistress of the
+yacht is looking after her flowers.  And then is heard the voice of John
+of Skye--"_Stand by, boys!_" and "_Bout ship!_" and the helm goes down,
+and the jib and foresail flutter and tear at the blocks and sheets, and
+then the sails gently fill, and the _White Dove_ is away on another
+tack.
+
+"Well, I give in," says Mary Avon, at last, as a heavier lurch than
+usual threatens to throw her and her easel together into the scuppers.
+"It _is_ no use."
+
+"I thought you never gave in, Mary," says our Admiral, whose head has
+appeared again at the top of the companion-stairs.
+
+"I wonder who could paint like this," says Miss Avon, indignantly.  And
+indeed she is trussed up like a fowl, with one arm round one of the gig
+davits.
+
+"Turner was lashed to the mast of a vessel in order to see a storm,"
+says Queen T.
+
+"But not to paint," retorts the other. "Besides, I am not Turner.
+Besides, I am tired."
+
+By this time, of course, Angus Sutherland has come to her help; and
+removes her easel and what not for her; and fetches her a deck-chair.
+
+"Would you like to play chess?" says he.
+
+"Oh, yes," she answers dutifully, "if you think the pieces will stay on
+the board."
+
+"Draughts will be safer," says he, and therewith he plunges below, and
+fetches up the squared board.
+
+And so, on this beautiful summer day, with the shining seas around them,
+and a cool breeze tempering the heat of the sun, Ferdinand and Miranda
+set to work.  And it was a pretty sight to see them--her soft dark eyes
+so full of an anxious care to acquit herself well; his robust, hard,
+fresh-coloured face full of a sort of good-natured forbearance.  But
+nevertheless it was a strange game.  All Scotchmen are supposed to play
+draughts; and one brought up in a manse is almost of necessity a good
+player.  But one astonished onlooker began to perceive that, whereas
+Mary Avon played but indifferently, her opponent played with a blindness
+that was quite remarkable.  She had a very pretty, small, white hand;
+was he looking at that that he did not, on one occasion, see how he
+could have taken three pieces and crowned his man all at one fell swoop?
+And then is it considered incumbent on a draught-player to inform his
+opponent of what would be a better move on the part of the latter?
+However that may be, true it is that, by dint of much advice, opportune
+blindness, and atrocious bad play, the Doctor managed to get the game
+ended in a draw.
+
+"Dear me," said Mary Avon, "I never thought I should have had a chance.
+The Scotch are such good draught-players."
+
+"But you play remarkably well," said he--and there was no blush of shame
+on his face.
+
+Draughts and luncheon carry us on to the afternoon; and still the light
+breeze holds out; and we get nearer and nearer to the most northerly
+points of Skye.  And as the evening draws on, we can now make out the
+hilly line of Ross-shire--a pale rose-colour in the far east; and nearer
+at hand is the Skye coast, with the warm sunlight touching on the ruins
+of Duntulme, where Donald Gorm Mor fed his imprisoned nephew on salt
+beef, and then lowered to him an empty cup--mocking him before he died;
+and then in the west the mountains of Harris, a dark purple against the
+clear lemon-golden glow.  But as night draws on, behold! the wind dies
+away altogether; and we lie becalmed on a lilac-and-silver sea, with
+some rocky islands over there grown into a strange intense green in the
+clear twilight.
+
+Down with the gig, then, John of Skye!--and hurry in all our rods, and
+lines, and the occult entrapping inventions of our patriarch of
+Denny-mains.  We have no scruple about leaving the yacht in mid-ocean,
+in charge of the steward only.  The clear twilight shines in the sky;
+there is not a ripple on the sea; only the long Atlantic swell that we
+can hear breaking far away on the rocks.  And surely such calms are
+infrequent in the Minch; and surely these lonely rocks can have been
+visited but seldom by passing voyagers?
+
+Yet the great rollers--as we near the forbidding shores--break with an
+ominous thunder on the projecting points and reefs.  The Doctor insists
+on getting closer and closer--he knows where the big lithe are likely to
+be found--and the men, although they keep a watchful eye about them,
+obey.  And then--it is Mary Avon who first calls out--and behold!  her
+rod is suddenly dragged down--the point is hauled below the water--agony
+and alarm are on her face.
+
+"Here--take it--take it!" she calls out. "The rod will be broken."
+
+"Not a bit," the Doctor calls out.  "Give him the butt hard!  Never mind
+the rod! Haul away!"
+
+And indeed by this time everybody was alternately calling and hauling;
+and John of Skye, attending to the rods of the two ladies, had scarcely
+time to disengage the big fish, and smooth the flies again; and the
+Laird was declaring that these lithe fight as hard as a twenty-pound
+salmon.  What did we care about those needles and points of black rock
+that every two or three seconds showed their teeth through the breaking
+white surf?
+
+"Keep her close in, boys!" Angus Sutherland cried.  "We shall have a
+fine pickling to-morrow."
+
+Then one fish, stronger or bigger than his fellows, pulls the rod clean
+out of Mary Avon's hands.
+
+"Well, I have done it this time," she says.
+
+"Not a bit!" her companion cries.  "Up all lines!  Back now,
+lads--gently!"
+
+And as the stern of the boat is shoved over the great glassy billows,
+behold! a thin dark line occasionally visible--the end of the lost rod!
+Then there is a swoop on the part of our Doctor; he has both his hands
+on the butt; there elapses a minute or two of fighting between man and
+fish; and then we can see below the boat the wan gleam of the captured
+animal as it comes to the surface in slow circles.  Hurrah! a
+seven-pounder!  John of Skye chuckles to himself as he grasps the big
+lithe.
+
+"Oh, ay!" he says, "the young leddy knows ferry well when to throw away
+the rod.  It is a gran' good thing to throw away the rod when there will
+be a big fish.  Ay, ay, it iss a good fish."
+
+But the brutes that fought hardest of all were the dog-fish--the snakes
+of the sea; and there was a sort of holy Archangelic joy on the face of
+John of Skye when he seized a lump of stick to fell these hideous
+creatures before flinging them back into the water again. And yet why
+should they have been killed on account of their snake-like eyes and
+their cruel mouth?  The human race did not rise and extirpate Frederick
+Smethurst because he was ill-favoured.
+
+By half-past ten we had secured a good cargo of fish; and then we set
+out for the yacht.  The clear twilight was still shining above the
+Harris hills; but there was a dusky shadow along the Outer Hebrides,
+where the orange ray of Scalpa light was shining; and there was dusk in
+the south, so that the yacht had become invisible altogether.  It was a
+long pull back; for the _White Dove_ had been carried far by the ebb
+tide.  When we found her, she looked like a tall grey ghost in the
+gathering darkness; and no light had as yet been put up; but all the
+same we had a laughing welcome from Master Fred, who was glad to have
+the fresh fish wherewith to supplement our frugal meals.
+
+Then the next morning--when we got up and looked around--we were in the
+same place!  And the glass would not fall; and the blue skies kept blue;
+and we had to encounter still another day of dreamy idleness.
+
+"The weather is conspiring against you, Angus," our sovereign lady said,
+with a smile. "And you know you cannot run away from the yacht: it would
+be so cowardly to take the steamer."
+
+"Well, indeed," said he, "it is the first time in my life that I have
+found absolute idleness enjoyable; and I am not so very anxious it
+should end.  Somehow, though, I fear we are too well off.  When we get
+back to the region of letters and telegrams, don't you think we shall
+have to pay for all this selfish happiness?"
+
+"Then why should we go back?" she says lightly.  "Why not make a compact
+to forsake the world altogether, and live all our life on board the
+_White Dove_?"
+
+Somehow, his eyes wandered to Mary Avon; and he said--rather absently--
+
+"I, for one, should like it well enough; if it were only possible."
+
+"No, no," says the Laird, brusquely, "that will no do at all.  It was
+never intended that people should go and live for themselves like that.
+Ye have your duties to the nation and to the laws that protect ye.  When
+I left Denny-mains I told my brother Commissioners that what I could do
+when I was away to further the business of the Burgh I would do; and I
+have entered most minutely into several matters of great importance.
+And that is why I am anxious to get to Portree.  I expect most important
+letters there."
+
+Portree!  Our whereabouts on the chart last night was marked between 45
+and 46 fathoms W.S.W. from some nameless rocks; and here, as far as we
+can make out, we are still between these mystical numbers.  What can we
+do but chat, and read, and play draughts, and twirl round a rope, and
+ascend to the cross-trees to look out for a breeze, and watch and listen
+to the animal-life around us?
+
+"I do think," says Mary Avon to her hostess, "the calling of those
+divers is the softest and most musical sound I ever heard; perhaps
+because it is associated with so many beautiful places.  Just fancy,
+now, if you were suddenly to hear a diver symphony beginning in an
+opera--if all the falsetto recitative and the blare of the trumpets were
+to stop--and if you were to hear the violins and flutes beginning, quite
+low and soft, a diver symphony, would you not think of the Hebrides, and
+the _White Dove_, and the long summer days?  In the winter, you know, in
+London, I fancy we should go once or twice to see _that_ opera!"
+
+"I have never been to an opera," remarks the Laird, quite impervious to
+Mary Avon's tender enthusiasm.  "I am told it is a fantastic
+exhibeetion."
+
+One incident of that day was the appearance of a new monster of the
+deep, which approached quite close to the hull of the _White Dove_.
+Leaning over the rail we could see him clearly in the clear water--a
+beautiful, golden, submarine insect, with a conical body like that of a
+land-spider, and six or eight slender legs, by the incurving of which he
+slowly propelled himself through the water.  As we were perfectly
+convinced that no one had ever been in such dead calms in the Minch
+before, and had lain for twenty-four hours in the neighbourhood of 45
+and 46, we took it for granted that this was a new animal.  In the
+temporary absence of our F.R.S., the Laird was bold enough to name it
+the _Arachne Mary-Avonensis_; but did not seek to capture it.  It went
+on its golden way.
+
+But we were not to linger for ever in these northern seas, surrounded by
+perpetual summer calms--however beautiful the prospect might be to a
+young man fallen away, for the moment, from his high ambitions.
+Whatever summons from the far world might be awaiting us at Portree was
+soon to be served upon us.  In the afternoon a slight breeze sprung up
+that gently carried us away past Ru Hunish, and round by Eilean Trodda,
+and down by Altavaig. The grey-green basaltic cliffs of the Skye coast
+were now in shadow; but the strong sunlight beat on the grassy ledges
+above; and there was a distant roar of water along the rocks. This other
+throbbing sound, too: surely that must be some steamer far away on the
+other side of Rona?
+
+The sunset deepened.  Darker and darker grew the shadows in the great
+mountains above us.  We heard the sea along the solitary shores.
+
+The stars came out in the twilight: they seemed clearest just over the
+black mountains. In the silence there was the sound of a waterfall
+somewhere--in among those dark cliffs. Then our side-lights were put up;
+and we sate on deck; and Mary Avon, nestling close to her friend, was
+persuaded to sing for her
+
+_Yestreen the Queen had four Maries_
+
+--just as if she had never heard the song before.  The hours went by;
+Angus Sutherland was talking in a slow, earnest, desultory fashion; and
+surely he must have been conscious that one heart there at least was
+eagerly and silently listening to him.  The dawn was near at hand when
+finally we consented to go below.
+
+What time of the morning was it that we heard John of Skye call out
+"_Six or seven fathoms 'll do?_"  We knew at least that we had got into
+harbour; and that the first golden glow of the daybreak was streaming
+through the skylights of the saloon.  We had returned from the wilds to
+the claims and the cares of civilisation; if there was any message to
+us, for good or for evil, from the distant world we had left for so
+long, it was now waiting for us on shore.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XIV.*
+
+                            *EVIL TIDINGS.*
+
+
+We had indeed returned to the world: the first thing we saw on entering
+the saloon in the morning was a number of letters--actual letters, that
+had come through a post-office--lying on the breakfast-table.  We stared
+at these strange things.  Our good Queen T. was the first to approach
+them.  She took them up as if she expected they would bite her.
+
+"Oh, Mary," she says, "there is not one for you--not one."
+
+Angus Sutherland glanced quickly at the girl.  But there was not the
+least trace of disappointment on her face.  On the contrary, she said,
+with a cheerful indifference--
+
+"So much the better.  They only bother people."
+
+But of course they had to be opened and read--even the bulky parcel from
+Strathgovan. The only bit of intelligence that came from that quarter
+was to the effect that Tom Galbraith had been jilted by his lady-love;
+but as the rumour, it appeared, was in circulation among the Glasgow
+artists, the Laird instantly and indignantly refused to believe it.
+Envy is the meanest of the passions; and we knew that the Glasgow
+artists could scarcely sleep in their bed at night for thinking of the
+great fame of Mr. Galbraith of Edinburgh.  However, amid all these
+letters one of us stumbled upon one little item that certainly concerned
+us.  It was a clipping from the advertisement column of a newspaper.  It
+was inclosed, without word or comment, by a friend in London who knew
+that we were slightly acquainted, perforce, with Mr. Frederick
+Smethurst.  And it appeared that that gentleman, having got into
+difficulties with his creditors, had taken himself off, in a
+surreptitious and evil manner, insomuch that this newspaper clipping was
+nothing more nor less than a hue and cry after the fraudulent bankrupt.
+That letter and its startling inclosure were quickly whipped into the
+pocket of the lady to whom they had been sent.
+
+By great good luck Mary Avon was the first to go on deck.  She was
+anxious to see this new harbour into which we had got.  And then, with
+considerable dismay on her face, our sovereign mistress showed us this
+ugly thing. She was much excited.  It was so shameful of him to bring
+this disgrace on Mary Avon! What would the poor girl say?  And this
+gentle lady would not for worlds have her told while she was with
+us--until at least we got back to some more definite channel of
+information.  She was, indeed, greatly distressed.
+
+But we had to order her to dismiss these idle troubles.  We formed
+ourselves into a committee on the spot; and this committee unanimously,
+if somewhat prematurely, and recklessly, resolved--
+
+First, that it was not of the slightest consequence to us or any human
+creature where Mr. Frederick Smethurst was, or what he might do with
+himself.
+
+Secondly, that if Mr. Frederick Smethurst were to put a string and a
+stone round his neck and betake himself to the bottom of the sea, he
+would earn our gratitude and in some measure atone for his previous
+conduct.
+
+Thirdly, that nothing at all about the matter should be said to Mary
+Avon: if the man had escaped, there might probably be an end of the
+whole business.
+
+To these resolutions, carried swiftly and unanimously, Angus Sutherland
+added a sort of desultory rider, to the effect that moral or immoral
+qualities do sometimes reveal themselves in the face.  He was also of
+opinion that spare persons were more easy of detection in this manner.
+He gave an instance of a well-known character in London--a most
+promising ruffian who had run through the whole gamut of discreditable
+offences.  Why was there no record of this brave career written in the
+man's face?  Because nature had obliterated the lines in fat.  When a
+man attains to the dimensions and appearance of a scrofulous toad
+swollen to the size of an ox, moral and mental traces get rubbed out.
+Therefore, contended our F.R.S., all persons who set out on a career of
+villany, and don't want to be found out, should eat fat-producing foods.
+Potatoes and sugar he especially mentioned as being calculated to
+conceal crime.
+
+However, we had to banish Frederick Smethurst and his evil deeds from
+our minds; for the yacht from end to end was in a bustle of commotion
+about our going ashore; and as for us--why, we meant to run riot in all
+the wonders and delights of civilisation.  Innumerable fowls, tons of
+potatoes and cabbage and lettuce, fresh butter, new loaves, new milk:
+there was no end to the visions that rose before the excited brain of
+our chief commissariat officer.  And when the Laird, in the act of
+stepping, with much dignity, into the gig, expressed his firm conviction
+that somewhere or other we should stumble upon a Glasgow newspaper not
+more than a week old, so that he might show us the reports of the
+meetings of the Strathgovan Commissioners, we knew of no further luxury
+that the mind could desire.
+
+And as we were being rowed ashore, we could not fail to be struck by the
+extraordinary abundance of life and business and activity in the world.
+Portree, with its wooded crags and white houses shining in the sun,
+seemed a large and populous city.  The smooth waters of the bay were
+crowded with craft of every description; and the boats of the yachts
+were coming and going with so many people on board of them that we were
+quite stared out of countenance.  And then, when we landed, and walked
+up the quay, and ascended the hill into the town, we regarded the signs
+over the shop-doors with the same curiosity that regards the commonest
+features of a foreign street.  There was a peculiarity about Portree,
+however, that is not met with in continental capitals.  We felt that the
+ground swayed lightly under our feet.  Perhaps these were the last
+oscillations of the great volcanic disturbance that shot the black
+Coolins into the sky.
+
+Then the shops: such displays of beautiful things, in silk, and wool,
+and cunning woodwork; human ingenuity declaring itself in a thousand
+ways, and appealing to our purses. Our purses, to tell the truth, were
+gaping.  A craving for purchase possessed us.  But, after all, the Laird
+could not buy servant girls' scarves as a present for Mary Avon; and
+Angus Sutherland did not need a second waterproof coat; and though we
+reached the telegraph office, there would have been a certain monotony
+in spending innumerable shillings on unnecessary telegrams, even though
+we might be rejoicing in one of the highest conveniences of
+civilisation.  The plain truth must be told.  Our purchases were limited
+to some tobacco and a box or two of paper collars for the men; to one or
+two shilling novels; and a flask of eau-de-Cologne.  We did not half
+avail ourselves of all the luxuries spread out so temptingly before us.
+
+"Do you think the men will have the water on board yet?" Mary Avon says,
+as we walk back.  "I do not at all like being on land. The sun scorches
+so, and the air is stifling."
+
+"In my opeenion," says the Laird, "the authorities of Portree are
+deserving of great credit for having fixed up the apparatus to let boats
+get water on board at the quay.  It was a public-spirited project--it
+was that.  And I do not suppose that any one grumbles at having to pay a
+shilling for the privilege.  It is a legeetimate tax.  I am sure it
+would have been a long time or we could have got such a thing at
+Strathgovan, if there was need for it there; ye would scarcely believe
+it, ma'am, what a spirit of opposition there is among some o' the
+Commissioners to any improvement, ye would not believe it."
+
+"Indeed," she says, in innocent wonder; she quite sympathises with this
+public-spirited reformer.
+
+"Ay, it's true.  Mind ye, I am a Conservative myself; I will have
+nothing to do with Radicals and their Republics; no, no, but a wise
+Conservative knows how to march with the age.  Take my own poseetion:
+for example, as soon as I saw that the steam fire-engine was a
+necessity, I withdrew my opposition at once.  I am very thankful to you,
+ma'am, for having given me an opportunity of carefully considering the
+question.  I will never forget our trip round Mull.  Dear me! it is warm
+the day," added the Laird, as he raised his broad felt hat, and wiped
+his face with his voluminous silk handkerchief.
+
+Here come two pedestrians--good-looking young lads of an obviously
+English type--and faultlessly equipped from head to heel.  They look
+neither to the left nor right; on they go manfully through the dust, the
+sun scorching their faces; there must be a trifle of heat under these
+knapsacks.  Well, we wish them fine weather and whole heels.  It is not
+the way some of us would like to pass a holiday. For what is this that
+Miss Avon is singing lightly to herself as she walks carelessly on,
+occasionally pausing to look in at a shop--
+
+_And often have we seamen heard how men are killed or undone,_
+_By overturns of carriages, and thieves, and fires in London._
+
+Here she turns aside to caress a small terrier; but the animal,
+mistaking her intention, barks furiously, and retreats, growling and
+ferocious, into the shop.  Miss Avon is not disturbed. She walks on, and
+completes her nautical ballad--all for her own benefit--
+
+_We've heard what risk all landsmen run, from noblemen to tailors,_
+_So, Billy, let's thank Providence that you and I are sailors!_
+
+
+"What on earth is that, Mary?" her friend behind asks.
+
+The girl stops with a surprised look, as if she had scarcely been
+listening to herself; then she says lightly:--
+
+"Oh, don't you know the sailor's song--I forget what they call it:--
+
+_A strong sou-wester's blowing, Billy, can't you hear it roar now,_
+_Lord help 'em, how I pities all unhappy folks on shore now._
+
+
+"You have become a thorough sailor, Miss Avon," says Angus Sutherland,
+who has overheard the last quotation.
+
+"I--I like it better--I am more interested," she says, timidly, "since
+you were so kind as to show me the working of the ship."
+
+"Indeed," says he, "I wish you would take command of her, and order her
+present captain below.  Don't you see how tired his eyes are becoming?
+He won't take his turn of sleep like the others; he has been scarcely
+off the deck night or day since we left Canna; and I find it is no use
+remonstrating with him.  He is too anxious; and he fancies I am in a
+hurry to get back; and these continual calms prevent his getting on.
+Now the whole difficulty would be solved, if you let me go back by the
+steamer; then you could lie at Portree here for a night or two, and let
+him have some proper rest."
+
+"I do believe, Angus," says his hostess, laughing in her gentle way,
+"that you threaten to leave us just to see how anxious we are to keep
+you."
+
+"My position as ship's doctor," he retorts, "is compromised.  If Captain
+John falls ill on my hands whom am I to blame but myself?"
+
+"I am quite sure I can get him to go below," says Mary Avon, with
+decision--"quite sure of it.  That is, especially," she adds, rather
+shyly, "if you will take his place.  I know he would place more
+dependence on you than on any of the men."
+
+This is a very pretty compliment to pay to one who is rather proud of
+his nautical knowledge.
+
+"Well," he says, laughing, "the responsibility must rest on you.  Order
+him below, to-night, and see whether he obeys.  If we don't get to a
+proper anchorage, we will manage to sail the yacht somehow among us--you
+being captain, Miss Avon."
+
+"If I am captain," she says, lightly--though she turns away her head
+somewhat, "I shall forbid your deserting the ship."
+
+"So long as you are captain, you need not fear that," he answers.
+Surely he could say no less.
+
+But it was still John of Skye who was skipper when, on getting under
+way, we nearly met with a serious accident.  Fresh water and all
+provisions having been got on board, we weighed anchor only to find the
+breeze die wholly down.  Then the dingay was got out to tow the yacht
+away from the sheltered harbour; and our young Doctor, always anxious
+for hard work, must needs jump in to join in this service.  But the
+little boat had been straining at the cable for scarcely five minutes
+when a squall of wind came over from the north-west and suddenly filled
+the sails.  "Look out there, boys!" called Captain John, for we were
+running full down on the dingay.  "Let go the rope!  Let go!" he
+shouted: but they would not let go, as the dingay came sweeping by. In
+fact, she caught the yacht just below the quarter, and seemed to
+disappear altogether. Mary Avon uttered one brief cry; and then stood
+pale--clasping one of the ropes--not daring to look.  And John of Skye
+uttered some exclamation in the Gaelic; and jumped on to the taffrail.
+But the next thing we saw, just above the taffrail, was the red and
+shining and laughing face of Angus Sutherland, who was hoisting himself
+up by means of the mizen boom; and directly afterwards appeared the
+scarlet cap of Hector of Moidart.  It was upon this latter culprit that
+the full force of John of Skye's wrath was expended.
+
+"Why did you not let go the rope when I wass call to you?"
+
+"It is all right, and if I wass put into the water, I have been in the
+water before," was the philosophic reply.
+
+And now it was, as we drew away from Portree, that Captain Mary Avon
+endeavoured to assume supreme command and would have the deposed skipper
+go below and sleep.  John of Skye was very obedient, but he said:--"Oh,
+ay.  I will get plenty of sleep.  But that hill there, that is Ben
+Inivaig; and there is not any hill in the West Highlands so bad for
+squalls as that hill.  By and by I will get plenty of sleep."
+
+Ben Inivaig let us go past its great, gloomy, forbidding shoulders and
+cliffs without visiting us with anything worse than a few variable
+puffs; and we got well down into the Raasay Narrows.  What a picture of
+still summer loveliness was around us!--the rippling blue seas, the
+green shores, and far over these the black peaks of the Coolins now
+taking a purple tint in the glow of the afternoon.  The shallow Sound of
+Scalpa we did not venture to attack, especially as it was now low water;
+we went outside Scalpa, by the rocks of Skier Dearg. And still John of
+Skye evaded, with a gentle Highland courtesy, the orders of the captain.
+The silver bell of Master Fred summoned us below for dinner, and still
+John of Skye was gently obdurate.
+
+"Now, John," says Mary Avon, seriously, to him, "you want to make me
+angry."
+
+"Oh, no, mem; I not think that," says he, deprecatingly.
+
+"Then why won't you go and have some sleep?  Do you want to be ill?"
+
+"Oh, there iss plenty of sleep," says he. "Maybe we will get to Kyle
+Akin to-night; and there will be plenty of sleep for us."
+
+"But I am asking you as a favour to go and get some sleep _now_.  Surely
+the men can take charge of the yacht!"
+
+"Oh, yes, oh, yes!" says John of Skye. "They can do that ferry well."
+
+And then he paused--for he was great friends with this young lady, and
+did not like to disoblige her.
+
+"You will be having your dinner now. After the dinner, if Mr. Sutherland
+himself will be on deck, I will go below and turn in for a time."
+
+"Of course Dr. Sutherland will be on deck," says the new captain,
+promptly; and she was so sure of one member of her crew that she added,
+"and he will not leave the tiller for a moment until you come to relieve
+him."
+
+Perhaps it was this promise--perhaps it was the wonderful beauty of the
+evening--that made us hurry over dinner.  Then we went on deck again;
+and our young Doctor, having got all his bearings and directions clear
+in his head, took the tiller, and John of Skye at length succumbed to
+the authority of Commander Avon and disappeared into the forecastle.
+
+The splendour of colour around us on that still evening!--away in the
+west the sea of a pale yellow green, with each ripple a flash of
+rose-flame, and over there in the south the great mountains of Skye--the
+Coolins, Blaven, and Ben-na-Cailleach--become of a plum-purple in the
+clear and cloudless sky. Angus Sutherland was at the tiller
+contemplatively smoking an almost black meerschaum; the Laird was
+discoursing to us about the extraordinary pith and conciseness of the
+Scotch phrases in the Northumbrian Psalter; while ever and anon a
+certain young lady, linked arm-in-arm with her friend, would break the
+silence with some aimless fragment of ballad or old-world air.
+
+And still we glided onwards in the beautiful evening; and now ahead of
+us in the dusk of the evening, the red star of Kyle Akin lighthouse
+steadily gleamed.  We might get to anchor, after all, without awaking
+John of Skye.
+
+"In weather like this," remarked our sovereign lady, "in the gathering
+darkness, John might keep asleep for fifty years."
+
+"Like Rip Van Winkle," said the Laird, proud of his erudition.  "That is
+a wonderful story that Washington Irving wrote--a verra fine story."
+
+"Washington Irving!--the story is as old as the Coolins," says Dr.
+Sutherland.
+
+The Laird stared as if he had been Rip Van Winkle himself: was he for
+ever to be checkmated by the encyclop�dic knowledge of Young England--or
+Young Scotland rather--and that knowledge only the gatherings and
+sweepings of musty books that anybody with a parrot-like habit might
+acquire?
+
+"Why, surely you know that the legend belongs to that common stock of
+legends that go through all literatures?" says our young Doctor.  "I
+have no doubt the Hindoos have their Epimenides; and that Peter Klaus
+turns up somewhere or other in the Gaelic stories. However, that is of
+little importance; it is of importance that Captain John should get some
+sleep.  Hector, come here!"
+
+There was a brief consultation about the length of anchor-chain wanted
+for the little harbour opposite Kyle Akin; Hector's instructions were on
+no account to disturb John of Skye.  But no sooner had they set about
+getting the chain on deck than another figure appeared, black among the
+rigging; and there was a well-known voice heard forward.  Then Captain
+John came aft, and, despite all remonstrances, would relieve his
+substitute.  Rip Van Winkle's sleep had lasted about an hour and a half.
+
+And now we steal by the black shores; and that solitary red star comes
+nearer and nearer in the dusk; and at length we can make out two or
+three other paler lights close down by the water.  Behold! the yellow
+ports of a steam-yacht at anchor; we know, as our own anchor goes
+rattling out in the dark, that we shall have at least one neighbour and
+companion through the still watches of the night.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XV.*
+
+                             *TEMPTATION.*
+
+
+But the night, according to John of Skye's chronology, lasts only until
+the tide turns or until a breeze springs up.  Long before the wan glare
+in the east has arisen to touch the highest peaks of the Coolins, we
+hear the tread of the men on deck getting the yacht under way.  And then
+there is a shuffling noise in Angus Sutherland's cabin; and we guess
+that he is stealthily dressing in the dark.  Is he anxious to behold the
+wonders of daybreak in the beautiful Loch Alsh, or is he bound to take
+his share in the sailing of the ship?  Less perturbed spirits sink back
+again into sleep, and contentedly let the _White Dove_ go on her own way
+through the expanding blue-grey light of the dawn.
+
+Hours afterwards there is a strident shouting down the companion-way;
+everybody is summoned on deck to watch the yacht shoot the Narrows of
+Kyle Rhea.  And the Laird is the first to express his surprise: are
+these the dreaded Narrows that have caused Captain John to start before
+daybreak so as to shoot them with the tide?  All around is a dream of
+summer beauty and quiet.  A more perfect picture of peace and loveliness
+could not be imagined than the green crags of the mainland, and the vast
+hills of Skye, and this placid channel between shining in the fair light
+of the morning.  The only thing we notice is that on the glassy green of
+the water--this reflected, deep, almost opaque green is not unlike the
+colour of Niagara below the Falls--there are smooth circular lines here
+and there; and now and again the bows of the _White Dove_ slowly swerve
+away from her course as if in obedience to some unseen and mysterious
+pressure.  There is not a breath of wind; and it needs all the pulling
+of the two men out there in the dingay and all the watchful steering of
+Captain John to keep her head straight.  Then a light breeze comes along
+the great gully; the red-capped men are summoned on board; the dingay is
+left astern; the danger of being caught in an eddy and swirled ashore is
+over and gone.
+
+Suddenly the yacht stops as if she had run against a wall.  Then, just
+as she recovers, there is an extraordinary hissing and roaring in the
+dead silence around us, and close by the yacht we find a great circle of
+boiling and foaming water, forced up from below and overlapping itself
+in ever-increasing folds.  And then, on the perfectly glassy sea,
+another and another of those boiling and hissing circles appears, until
+there is a low rumbling in the summer air like the breaking of distant
+waves. And the yacht--the wind having again died down--is curiously
+compelled one way and then another, insomuch that John of Skye quickly
+orders the men out in the dingay again; and once more the long cable is
+tugging at her bows.
+
+"It seems to me," says Dr. Sutherland to our skipper, "that we are in
+the middle of about a thousand whirlpools."
+
+"Oh, it iss ferry quate this morning," says Captain John, with a shrewd
+smile.  "It iss not often so quate as this.  Ay, it iss sometimes ferry
+bad here--quite so bad as Corrievreckan; and when the flood-tide is
+rinnin, it will be rinnin like--shist like a race-horse."
+
+However, by dint of much hard pulling, and judicious steering, we manage
+to keep the _White Dove_ pretty well in mid-current; and only once--and
+that but for a second or two--get caught in one of those eddies circling
+in to the shore.  We pass the white ferry-house; a slight breeze carries
+us by the green shores and woods of Glenelg; we open out the wider sea
+between Isle Ornsay and Loch Hourn; and then a silver tinkle tells us
+breakfast is ready.
+
+That long, beautiful, calm summer day: Ferdinand and Miranda playing
+draughts on deck--he having rigged up an umbrella to shelter her from
+the hot sun; the Laird busy with papers referring to the Strathgovan
+Public Park; the hostess of these people overhauling the stores and
+meditating on something recondite for dinner.  At last the Doctor fairly
+burst out a-laughing.
+
+"Well," said he, "I have been in many a yacht; but never yet in one
+where everybody on board was anxiously waiting for the glass to fall."
+
+His hostess laughed too.
+
+"When you come south again," she said, "we may be able to give you a
+touch of something different.  I think that, even with all your love of
+gales, a few days of the equinoctials would quite satisfy you."
+
+"The equinoctials!" he said, with a surprised look.
+
+"Yes," said she boldly.  "Why not have a good holiday while you are
+about it?  And a yachting trip is nothing without a fight with the
+equinoctials.  Oh, you have no idea how splendidly the _White Dove_
+behaves!"
+
+"I should like to try her," he said, with a quick delight; but directly
+afterwards he ruefully shook his head.  "No, no," said he, "such a
+tremendous spell of idleness is not for me. I have not earned the right
+to it yet.  Twenty years hence I may be able to have three months'
+continued yachting in the West Highlands."
+
+"If I were you," retorted this small person, with a practical air, "I
+would take it when I could get it.  What do you know about twenty years
+hence?--you may be physician to the Emperor of China.  And you have
+worked very hard; and you ought to take as long a holiday as you can
+get."
+
+"I am sure," says Mary Avon very timidly, "that is very wise advice."
+
+"In the meantime," says he, cheerfully, "I am not physician to the
+Emperor of China, but to the passengers and crew of the _White Dove_.
+The passengers don't do me the honour of consulting me; but I am going
+to prescribe for the crew on my own responsibility.  All I want is, that
+I shall have the assistance of Miss Avon in making them take the dose."
+
+Miss Avon looked up inquiringly with the soft black eyes of her.
+
+"Nobody has any control over them but herself--they are like refractory
+children. Now," said he, rather more seriously, "this night-and-day work
+is telling on the men. Another week of it and you would see _Insomnia_
+written in large letters on their eyes.  I want you, Miss Avon, to get
+Captain John and the men to have a complete night's rest to-night--a
+sound night's sleep from the time we finish dinner till daybreak.  We
+can take charge of the yacht."
+
+Miss Avon promptly rose to her feet.
+
+"John!" she called.
+
+The big brown-bearded skipper from Skye came aft--putting his pipe in
+his waistcoat-pocket the while.
+
+"John," she said, "I want you to do me a favour now.  You and the men
+have not been having enough sleep lately.  You must all go below
+to-night as soon as we come up from dinner; and you must have a good
+sleep till daybreak.  The gentlemen will take charge of the yacht."
+
+It was in vain that John of Skye protested he was not tired.  It was in
+vain that he assured her that, if a good breeze sprung up, we might get
+right back to Castle Osprey by the next morning.
+
+"Why, you know very well," she said, "this calm weather means to last
+for ever."
+
+"Oh, no!  I not think that, mem," said John of Skye, smiling.
+
+"At all events we shall be sailing all night; and that is what I want
+you to do, as a favour to me."
+
+Indeed, our skipper found it was of no use to refuse.  The young lady
+was peremptory.  And so, having settled that matter, she sate down to
+her draught-board again.
+
+But it was the Laird she was playing with now.  And this was a
+remarkable circumstance about the game: when Angus Sutherland played
+with Denny-mains, the latter was hopelessly and invariably beaten; and
+when Denny-mains in his turn played with Mary Avon, he was relentlessly
+and triumphantly the victor; but when Angus Sutherland played with Miss
+Avon, she, somehow or other, generally managed to secure two out of
+three games.  It was a puzzling triangular duel: the chief feature of it
+was the splendid joy of the Laird when he had conquered the English
+young lady.  He rubbed his hands, he chuckled, he laughed--just as if he
+had been repeating one of his own "good ones."
+
+However, at luncheon the Laird was much more serious; for he was showing
+to us how remiss the Government was in not taking up the great solan
+question.  He had a newspaper cutting which gave in figures--in rows of
+figures--the probable number of millions of herrings destroyed every
+year by the solan-geese.  The injuries done to the herring-fisheries of
+this country, he proved to us, was enormous.  If a solan is known to eat
+on an average fifty herrings a day, just think of the millions on
+millions of fish that must go to feed those nests on the Bass Rock!  The
+Laird waxed quite eloquent about it.  The human race were dearer to him
+far than any gannet or family of gannets.
+
+"What I wonder at is this," said our young Doctor with a curious grim
+smile, that we had learned to know, coming over his face, "that the
+solan, with that extraordinary supply of phosphorus to the brain, should
+have gone on remaining only a bird, and a very ordinary bird, too.  Its
+brain-power should have been developed; it should be able to speak by
+this time.  In fact, there ought to be solan schoolboards and parochial
+boards on the Bass Rock; and commissioners appointed to inquire whether
+the building of nests might not be conducted on more scientific
+principles. When I was a boy--I am sorry to say--I used often to catch a
+solan by floating out a piece of wood with a dead herring on it: a wise
+bird, with its brain full of phosphorus, ought to have known that it
+would break its head when it swooped down on a piece of wood."
+
+The Laird sate in dignified silence.  There was something occult and
+uncanny about many of this young man's sayings--they savoured too much
+of the dangerous and unsettling tendencies of these modern days.
+Besides, he did not see what good could come of likening a lot of
+solan-geese to the Commissioners of the Burgh of Strathgovan.  His
+remarks on the herring-fisheries had been practical and intelligible;
+they had given no occasion for jibes.
+
+We were suddenly startled by the rattling out of the anchor-chain.  What
+could it mean?--were we caught in an eddy?  There was a scurrying up on
+deck, only to find that, having drifted so far south with the tide, and
+the tide beginning to turn, John of Skye proposed to secure what
+advantage we had gained by coming to anchor.  There was a sort of shamed
+laughter over this business.  Was the noble _White Dove_ only a river
+barge, then, that she was thus dependent on the tides for her progress?
+But it was no use either to laugh or to grumble; two of us proposed to
+row the Laird away to certain distant islands that lie off the shore
+north of the mouth of Loch Hourn; and for amusement's sake we took some
+towels with us.
+
+Look now how this long and shapely gig cuts the blue water.  The Laird
+is very dignified in the stern, with the tiller-ropes in his hand; he
+keeps a straight course enough--though he is mostly looking over the
+side. And, indeed, this is a perfect wonder-hall over which we are
+making our way--the water so clear that we notice the fish darting here
+and there among the great brown blades of the tangle and the long green
+sea-grass.  Then there are stretches of yellow sand, with shells and
+star-fish shining far below.  The sun burns on our hands; there is a
+dead stillness of heat; the measured splash of the oars startles the
+sea-birds in there among the rocks.
+
+_Send the biorlinn on careering,_
+_Cheerily and all together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+Look out for the shallows, most dignified of coxswains: what if we were
+to imbed her bows in the silver sand?--
+
+_Another cheer!  Our isle appears--_
+_Our biorlinn bears her on the faster!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long strong pull together!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+
+"Hold hard!" calls Denny-mains; and behold! we are in among a network of
+channels and small islands lying out here in the calm sea; and the birds
+are wildly calling and screaming and swooping about our heads, indignant
+at the approach of strangers.  What is our first duty, then, in coming
+to these unknown islands and straits?--why, surely, to name them in the
+interests of civilisation. And we do so accordingly.  Here--let it be
+for ever known--is John Smith Bay.  There, Thorley's Food for Cattle
+Island.  Beyond that, on the south, Brown and Poison's Straits. It is
+quite true that these islands and bays may have been previously visited;
+but it was no doubt a long time ago; and the people did not stop to
+bestow names.  The latitude and longitude may be dealt with afterwards;
+meanwhile the discoverers unanimously resolve that the most beautiful of
+all the islands shall hereafter, through all time, be known as the
+Island of Mary Avon.
+
+It was on this island that the Laird achieved his memorable capture of a
+young sea-bird--a huge creature of unknown species that fluttered and
+scrambled over bush and over scaur, while Denny-mains, quite forgetting
+his dignity and the heat of the sun, clambered after it over the rocks.
+And when he got it in his hands, it lay as one dead.  He was sorry.  He
+regarded the newly-fledged thing with compassion; and laid it tenderly
+down on the grass; and came away down again to the shore.  But he had
+scarcely turned his back when the demon bird got on its legs, and--with
+a succession of shrill and sarcastic "yawps"--was off and away over the
+higher ledges.  No fasting girl had ever shammed so completely as this
+scarcely-fledged bird.
+
+We bathed in Brown and Poison's Straits, to the great distress of
+certain sea-pyots that kept screaming over our heads, resenting the
+intrusion of the discoverers.  But in the midst of it, we were suddenly
+called to observe a strange darkness on the sea, far away in the north,
+between Glenelg and Skye.  Behold! the long-looked-for wind--a hurricane
+swooping down from the northern hills!  Our toilette on the hot rocks
+was of brief duration; we jumped into the gig; away we went through the
+glassy water!  It was a race between us and the northerly breeze which
+should reach the yacht first; and we could see that John of Skye had
+remarked the coming wind, for the men were hoisting the fore-staysail.
+The dark blue on the water spreads; the reflections of the hills and the
+clouds gradually disappear; as we clamber on board the first puffs of
+the breeze are touching the great sails.  The anchor has just been got
+up; the gig is hoisted to the davits; slack out the main sheet, you
+shifty Hector, and let the great boom go out! Nor is it any mere squall
+that has come down from the hills; but a fine, steady, northerly breeze;
+and away we go with the white foam in our wake.  Farewell to the great
+mountains over the gloomy Loch Hourn; and to the lighthouse over there
+at Isle Ornsay; and to the giant shoulders of Ard-na-Glishnich.  Are not
+these the dark green woods of Armadale that we see in the west?  And
+southward, and still southward we go with the running seas and the fresh
+brisk breeze from the north: who knows where we may not be tonight
+before Angus Sutherland's watch begins?
+
+There is but one thoughtful face on board. It is that of Mary Avon.  For
+the moment, at least, she seems scarcely to rejoice that we have at last
+got this grateful wind to bear us away to the south and to Castle
+Osprey.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XVI.*
+
+                          *THROUGH THE DARK.*
+
+_Ahead she goes! the land she knows!_
+
+
+What though we see a sudden squall come tearing over from the shores of
+Skye, whitening the waves as it approaches us?  The _White Dove_ is not
+afraid of any squall.  And there are the green woods of Armadale, dusky
+under the western glow; and here the sombre heights of Dun Bane; and
+soon we will open out the great gap of Loch Nevis.  We are running with
+the running waves; a general excitement prevails; even the Laird has
+dismissed for the moment certain dark suspicions about Frederick
+Smethurst that have for the last day or two been haunting his mind.
+
+And here is a fine sight!--the great steamer coming down from the
+north--and the sunset is burning on her red funnels--and behold! she has
+a line of flags from her stem to her top-masts and down to her stern
+again.  Who is on board?--some great laird, or some gay wedding-party?
+
+"Now is your chance, Angus," says Queen T., almost maliciously, as the
+steamer slowly gains on us.  "If you want to go on at once, I know the
+captain would stop for a minute and pick you up."
+
+He looked at her for a second in a quick, hurt way; then he saw that she
+was only laughing at him.
+
+"Oh, no, thank you," he said, blushing like a schoolboy; "unless you
+want to get rid of me. I have been looking forward to sailing the yacht
+to-night."
+
+"And--and you said," remarked Miss Avon, rather timidly, "that we should
+challenge them again after dinner this evening."
+
+This was a pretty combination: "we" referred to Angus Sutherland and
+herself.  Her elders were disrespectfully described as "them."  So the
+younger people had not forgotten how they were beaten by "them" on the
+previous evening.
+
+Is there a sound of pipes amid the throbbing of the paddles?  What a
+crowd of people swarm to the side of the great vessel!  And there is the
+captain on the paddle-box--out all handkerchiefs to return the
+innumerable salutations--and good-bye, you brave Glencoe!--you have no
+need to rob us of any one of our passengers.
+
+Where does the breeze come from on this still evening?--there is not a
+cloud in the sky, and there is a drowsy haze of heat all along the land.
+But nevertheless it continues; and, as the _White Dove_ cleaves her way
+through the tumbling sea, we gradually draw on to the Point of Sleat,
+and open out the great plain of the Atlantic, now a golden green, where
+the tops of the waves catch the light of the sunset skies.  And there,
+too, are our old friends Haleval and Haskeval; but they are so far away,
+and set amid such a bewildering light, that the whole island seems to be
+of a pale transparent rose-purple.  And a still stranger thing now
+attracts the eyes of all on board. The setting sun, as it nears the
+horizon-line of the sea, appears to be assuming a distinctly oblong
+shape.  It is slowly sinking into a purple haze, and becomes more and
+more oblong as it nears the sea.  There is a call for all the glasses
+hung up in the companion-way; and now what is it that we find out there
+by the aid of the various binoculars?  Why, apparently, a wall of
+purple; and there is an oblong hole in it, with a fire of gold light far
+away on the other side.  This apparent golden tunnel through the haze
+grows redder and more red; it becomes more and more elongated; then it
+burns a deeper crimson until it is almost a line. The next moment there
+is a sort of shock to the eyes; for there is a sudden darkness all along
+the horizon-line: the purple-black Atlantic is barred against that lurid
+haze low down in the west.
+
+It was a merry enough dinner-party: perhaps it was the consciousness
+that the _White Dove_ was still bowling along that brightened up our
+spirits, and made the Laird of Denny-mains more particularly loquacious.
+The number of good ones that he told us was quite remarkable--until his
+laughter might have been heard through the whole ship.  And to whom now
+did he devote the narration of those merry anecdotes--to whom but Miss
+Mary Avon, who was his ready chorus on all occasions, and who entered
+with a greater zest than any one into the humours of them.  Had she been
+studying the Lowland dialect, then, that she understood and laughed so
+lightly and joyously at stories about a thousand years of age?
+
+"Oh, ay," the Laird was saying patronisingly to her, "I see ye can enter
+into the peculiar humour of our Scotch stories; it is not every English
+person that can do that.  And ye understand the language fine....
+Well," he added, with an air of modest apology, "perhaps I do not give
+the pronunciation as broad as I might.  I have got out of the way of
+talking the provincial Scotch since I was a boy--indeed, ah'm generally
+taken for an Englishman maself--but I do my best to give ye the speerit
+of it."
+
+"Oh, I am sure your imitation of the provincial Scotch is most
+excellent--most excellent--and it adds so much to the humour of the
+stories," says this disgraceful young hypocrite.
+
+"Oh, ay, oh, ay," says the Laird, greatly delighted.  "I will admit that
+some o' the stories would not have so much humour but for the language.
+But when ye have both!  Did ye ever hear of the laddie who was called in
+to his porridge by his mother?"
+
+We perceived by the twinkle in the Laird's eyes that a real good one was
+coming.  He looked round to see that we were listening, but it was Mary
+Avon whom he addressed.
+
+"A grumbling bit laddie--a philosopher, too," said he.  "His mother
+thought he would come in the quicker if he knew there was a fly in the
+milk.  '_Johnny_,' she cried out, '_Johnny, come in to your parritch;
+there's a flee in the milk._'  '_It'll no droon,_' says he.  '_What!_'
+she says, '_grumblin again?  Do ye think there's no enough milk?'
+'Plenty for the parritch_,' says he--_kee! kee! kee!_--sharp, eh, wasn't
+eh?--'_Plenty for the parritch_,' says he--ha! ha! ho! ho! ho!"--and the
+Laird slapped his thigh, and chuckled to himself.  "Oh, ay, Miss Mary,"
+he added, approvingly, "I see you are beginning to understand the Scotch
+humour fine."
+
+And if our good friend the Laird had been but twenty years younger--with
+his battery of irresistible jokes, and his great and obvious affection
+for this stray guest of ours, to say nothing of his dignity and
+importance as a Commissioner of Strathgovan?  What chance would a poor
+Scotch student have had, with his test-tubes and his scientific
+magazines, his restless, audacious speculations and eager ambitions?  On
+the one side, wealth, ease, a pleasant facetiousness, and a comfortable
+acceptance of the obvious facts of the universe--including water-rates
+and steam fire-engines; on the other, poverty, unrest, the physical
+struggle for existence, the mental struggle with the mysteries of life:
+who could doubt what the choice would be?  However, there was no thought
+of this rivalry now.  The Laird had abdicated in favour of his nephew,
+Howard, about whom he had been speaking a good deal to Mary Avon of
+late.  And Angus--though he was always very kind and timidly attentive
+to Miss Avon--seemed nevertheless at times almost a little afraid of
+her; or perhaps it was only a vein of shyness that cropped up from time
+to time through his hard mental characteristics.  In any case, he was at
+this moment neither the shy lover nor the eager student; he was full of
+the prospect of having sole command of the ship during a long night on
+the Atlantic, and he hurried us up on deck after dinner without a word
+about that return-battle at bezique.
+
+The night had come on apace, though there was still a ruddy mist about
+the northern skies, behind the dusky purple of the Coolin hills. The
+stars were out overhead; the air around us was full of the soft cries of
+the divers; occasionally, amid the lapping of the water, we could hear
+some whirring by of wings.  Then the red port light and the green
+starboard light were brought up from the forecastle, and fixed in their
+place; the men went below; Angus Sutherland took the tiller; the Laird
+kept walking backwards and forwards as a sort of look-out; and the two
+women were as usual seated on rugs together in some invisible
+corner--crooning snatches of ballads, or making impertinent remarks
+about people much wiser and older than themselves.
+
+"Now, Angus," says the voice of one of them--apparently from somewhere
+about the companion, "show us that you can sail the yacht properly, and
+we will give you complete command during the equinoctials."
+
+"You speak of the equinoctials," said he, laughing, "as if it was quite
+settled I should be here in September."
+
+"Why not?" said she, promptly.  "Mary is my witness you promised.  You
+wouldn't go and desert two poor lone women?"
+
+"But I have got that most uncomfortable thing, a conscience," he
+answered; "and I know it would stare at me as if I were mad if I
+proposed to spend such a long time in idleness. It would be outraging
+all my theories, besides. You know, for years and years back I have been
+limiting myself in every way--living, for example, on the smallest
+allowance of food and drink, and that of the simplest and cheapest--so
+that if any need arose, I should have no luxurious habits to
+abandon----"
+
+"But what possible need can there be?" said Mary Avon, warmly.
+
+"Do you expect to spend your life in a jail?" said the other woman.
+
+"No," said he, quite simply.  "But I will give you an instance of what a
+man who devotes himself to his profession may have to do.  A friend of
+mine, who is one of the highest living authorities on _Materia Medica_,
+refused all invitations for three months, and during the whole of that
+time lived each day on precisely the same food and drink, weighed out in
+exact quantities, so as to determine the effect of particular drugs on
+himself.  Well, you know, you should be ready to do that----"
+
+"Oh, how wrong you are!" says Mary Avon, with the same impetuosity.  "A
+man who works as hard as you do should not sacrifice yourself to a
+theory.  And what is it?  It is quite foolish!"
+
+"Mary!" her friend says.
+
+"It is," she says, with generous warmth.  "It is like a man who goes
+through life with a coffin on his back, so that he may be ready for
+death.  Don't you think that when death comes it will be time enough to
+be getting the coffin?"
+
+This was a poser.
+
+"You know quite well," she says, "that when the real occasion offered,
+like the one you describe, you could deny yourself any luxuries readily
+enough; why should you do so now?"
+
+At this there was a gentle sound of laughter.
+
+"Luxuries--the luxuries of the _White Dove_!" says her hostess, mindful
+of tinned meats.
+
+"Yes, indeed," says our young Doctor, though he is laughing too.  "There
+is far too much luxury--the luxury of idleness--on board this yacht to
+be wholesome for one like me."
+
+"Perhaps you object to the effeminacy of the downy couches and the
+feather pillows," says his hostess, who is always grumbling about the
+hardness of the beds.
+
+But it appears that she has made an exceedingly bad shot.  The man at
+the wheel--one can just make out his dark figure against the clear
+starlit heavens, though occasionally he gets before the yellow light of
+the binnacle--proceeds to assure her that, of all the luxuries of
+civilisation, he appreciates most a horse-hair pillow; and that he
+attributes his sound sleeping on board the yacht to the hardness of the
+beds.  He would rather lay his head on a brick, he says, for a night's
+rest than sink it in the softest feathers.
+
+"Do you wonder," he says, "that Jacob dreamed of angels when he had a
+stone for his pillow?  I don't.  If I wanted to have a pleasant sleep
+and fine dreams that is the sort of pillow I should have."
+
+Some phrase of this catches the ear of our look-out forward; he
+instantly comes aft.
+
+"Yes, it is a singular piece of testimony," he says.  "There is no doubt
+of it; I have myself seen the very place."
+
+We were not startled; we knew that the Laird, under the guidance of a
+well-known Free Church minister, had made a run through Palestine.
+
+"Ay," said he, "the further I went away from my own country the more I
+saw nothing but decadence and meesery.  The poor craytures!--living
+among ruins, and tombs, and decay, without a trace of public spirit or
+private energy.  The disregard of sanitary laws was something terrible
+to look at--as bad as their universal beggary.  That is what comes of
+centralisation, of suppressing local government. Would ye believe that
+there are a lot of silly bodies actually working to get our Burgh of
+Strathgovan annexed to Glasgow--swallowed up in Glasgow!"
+
+"Impossible!" we exclaim.
+
+"I tell ye it is true.  But no, no!  We are not ripe yet for those
+Radical measures.  We are constituted under an Act of Parliament. Before
+the House of Commons would dare to annex the free and flourishing Burgh
+of Strathgovan to Glasgow, I'm thinking the country far and near would
+hear something of it!"
+
+Yes; and we think so, too.  And we think it would be better if the
+hamlets and towns of Palestine were governed by men of public spirit
+like the Commissioners of Strathgovan; then they would be properly
+looked after.  Is there a single steam fire-engine in Jericho?
+
+However, it is late; and presently the women say good-night and retire.
+And the Laird is persuaded to go below with them also; for how otherwise
+could he have his final glass of toddy in the saloon?  There are but two
+of us left on deck, in the darkness, under the stars.
+
+It is a beautiful night, with those white and quivering points overhead,
+and the other white and burning points gleaming on the black waves that
+whirl by the yacht.  Beyond the heaving plain of waters there is nothing
+visible but the dusky gloom of the Island of Eigg, and away in the south
+the golden eye of Ardnamurchan lighthouse, for which we are steering.
+Then the intense silence--broken only when the wind, changing a little,
+gybes the sails and sends the great boom swinging over on to the lee
+tackle.  It is so still that we are startled by the sudden noise of the
+blowing of a whale; and it sounds quite close to the yacht, though it is
+more likely that the animal is miles away.
+
+"She is a wonderful creature--she is indeed," says the man at the wheel;
+as if every one must necessarily be thinking about the same person.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Your young English friend.  Every minute of her life seems to be an
+enjoyment to her; she sings just as a bird sings, for her own amusement,
+and without thinking."
+
+"She can think, too; she is not a fool."
+
+"Though she does not look very strong," continues the young Doctor, "she
+must have a thoroughly healthy constitution, or how could she have such
+a happy disposition?  She is always contented; she is never put out.  If
+you had only seen her patience and cheerfulness when she was attending
+that old woman--many a time I regretted it--the case was hopeless--a
+hired nurse would have done as well."
+
+"Hiring a nurse might not have satisfied the young lady's notions of
+duty."
+
+"Well, I've seen women in sick-rooms, but never any one like her," said
+he, and then he added, with a sort of emphatic wonder, "I'm hanged if
+she did not seem to enjoy that, too! Then you never saw any one so
+particular about following out instructions."
+
+It is here suggested to our steersman that he himself may be a little
+too particular about following out instructions.  For John of Skye's
+last counsel was to keep Ardnamurchan light on our port bow.  That was
+all very well when we were off the north of Eigg; but is Dr. Sutherland
+aware that the south point of Eigg--Eilean-na-Castle--juts pretty far
+out; and is not that black line of land coming uncommonly close on our
+starboard bow?  With some reluctance our new skipper consents to alter
+his course by a couple of points; and we bear away down for
+Ardnamurchan.
+
+And of what did he not talk during the long starlit night--the person
+who ought to have been lookout sitting contentedly aft, a mute
+listener?--of the strange fears that must have beset the people who
+first adventured out to sea; of the vast expenditure of human life that
+must have been thrown away in the discovery of the most common facts
+about currents and tides and rocks; and so forth, and so forth. But ever
+and again his talk returned to Mary Avon.
+
+"What does the Laird mean by his suspicions about her uncle?" he asked
+on one occasion--just as we had been watching a blue-white bolt flash
+down through the serene heavens and expire in mid-air.
+
+"Mr. Frederick Smethurst has an ugly face."
+
+"But what does he mean about those relations between the man with the
+ugly face and his niece?"
+
+"That is idle speculation.  Frederick Smethurst was her trustee, and
+might have done her some mischief--that is, if he is an out-and-out
+scoundrel; but that is all over.  Mary is mistress of her own property
+now."
+
+Here the boom came slowly swinging over; and presently there were all
+the sheets of the head-sails to be looked after--tedious work enough for
+amateurs in the darkness of the night.
+
+Then further silence; and the monotonous rush and murmur of the unseen
+sea; and the dark topmast describing circles among the stars. We get up
+one of the glasses to make astronomical observations, but the heaving of
+the boat somewhat interferes with this quest after knowledge.  Whoever
+wants to have a good idea of forked lightning has only to take up a
+binocular on board a pitching yacht, and try to fix it on a particular
+planet.
+
+The calm, solemn night passes slowly; the red and green lights shine on
+the black rigging; afar in the south burns the guiding star of
+Ardnamurchan.  And we have drawn away from Eigg now, and passed the open
+sound; and there, beyond the murmuring sea, is the doom of the Island of
+Muick.  All the people below are wrapped in slumber; the cabins are
+dark; there is only a solitary candle burning in the saloon.  It is a
+strange thing to be responsible for the lives of those sleeping
+folk--out here on the lone Atlantic, in the stillness of the night.
+
+Our young Doctor bears his responsibility lightly.  He has--for a
+wonder--laid aside his pipe; and he is humming a song that he has heard
+Mary Avon singing of late--something about
+
+    O think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa',
+    For I'll come and see ye in spite o' them a',
+
+and he is wishing the breeze would blow a bit harder--and wondering
+whether the wind will die away altogether when we get under the lee of
+Ardnamurchan Point.
+
+But long before we have got down to Ardnamurchan, there is a pale grey
+light beginning to tell in the eastern skies; and the stars are growing
+fainter; and the black line of the land is growing clearer above the
+wrestling seas.  Is it a fancy that the first light airs of the morning
+are a trifle cold?  And then we suddenly see, among the dark rigging
+forward, one or two black figures; and presently John of Skye comes aft,
+rubbing his eyes.  He has had a good sleep at last.
+
+Go below, then, you stout-sinewed young Doctor; you have had your desire
+of sailing the _White Dove_ through the still watches of the night.  And
+soon you will be asleep, with your head on the hard pillow of that
+little state-room and though the pillow is not as hard as a stone, still
+the night and the sea and the stars are quickening to the brain; and who
+knows that you may not perchance after all dream of angels, or hear some
+faint singing far away?
+
+                     *      *      *      *      *
+
+_There was Mary Beaton--and Mary Seaton----_
+
+                     *      *      *      *      *
+
+Or is it only a sound of the waves?
+
+
+
+
+                             END OF VOL. I.
+
+
+
+
+         LONDON: R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, BREAD STREET HILL.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I (OF 3) ***
+
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+<div class="document" id="white-wings-volume-i">
+<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I</span></h1>
+
+<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet -->
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+</div>
+<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- -->
+<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span>
+included with this eBook or online at
+</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header">
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: White Wings, Volume I
+<br />       A Yachting Romance
+<br />
+<br />Author: William Black
+<br />
+<br />Release Date: September 27, 2013 [EBook #43828]
+<br />
+<br />Language: English
+<br />
+<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I (OF 3)</span><span> ***</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="align-None container titlepage">
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">WHITE WINGS:</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">A Yachting Romance.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">BY</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">WILLIAM BLACK,</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF "THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PHAETON,"
+<br />"GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY," ETC.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">IN THREE VOLUMES.</em></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">VOL. I.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">London:
+<br />MACMILLAN AND CO.
+<br />1880.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved.</em></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="align-None container verso">
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">LONDON:
+<br />R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR,
+<br />BREAD STREET HILL.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="align-None container dedication">
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">TO OUR</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">QUEEN MABS,</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">IN MEMORY OF HER FIRST CRUISE ON BOARD ANY
+<br />YACHT, THIS RECORD OF OUR LONG SUMMER IDLENESS
+<br />IN 1878 IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY HER
+<br />OBLIGED AND HUMBLE SERVANT,</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics medium">THE AUTHOR.</em></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">BRIGHTON, </span><em class="italics small">June</em><span class="small"> 1880.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER I.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#on-the-quay">ON THE QUAY</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER II.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#mary-avon">MARY AVON</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER III.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#under-way">UNDER WAY</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER IV.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-message">A MESSAGE</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER V.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-brave-career">A BRAVE CAREER</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VI.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#our-new-guests">OUR NEW GUESTS</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VII.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#northward">NORTHWARD</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VIII.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#plots-and-counter-plots">PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER IX.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-wild-studio">A WILD STUDIO</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER X.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#dunvegan-oh-dunvegan">"DUNVEGAN!—OH!  DUNVEGAN!"</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XI.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#drawing-nearer">DRAWING NEARER</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XII.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-old-school-and-the-new">THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XIII.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#ferdinand-and-miranda">FERDINAND AND MIRANDA</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XIV.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#evil-tidings">EVIL TIDINGS</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XV.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#temptation">TEMPTATION</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XVI.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#through-the-dark">THROUGH THE DARK</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="on-the-quay"><span class="bold x-large">WHITE WINGS:</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Yachting Romance.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ON THE QUAY.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>A murmur runs through the crowd; the
+various idlers grow alert; all eyes are suddenly
+turned to the south.  And there, far away over
+the green headland, a small tuft of brown
+smoke appears, rising into the golden glow of
+the afternoon, and we know that by and by
+we shall see the great steamer with her scarlet
+funnels come sailing round the point.  The
+Laird of Denny-mains assumes an air of still
+further importance; he pulls his frock-coat
+tight at the waist; he adjusts his black satin
+necktie; his tall, white, stiff collar seems more
+rigid and white than ever.  He has heard of
+the wonderful stranger; and he knows that
+now she is drawing near.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Heard of her?  He has heard of nothing
+else since ever he came to us in these northern
+wilds.  For the mistress of this household—with
+all her domineering ways and her fits of
+majestic temper—has a love for her intimate
+girl-friends far passing the love of men;
+especially when the young ladies are obedient,
+and gentle, and ready to pay to her matronly
+dignity the compliment of a respectful awe.
+And this particular friend who is now coming
+to us: what has not the Laird heard about
+her during these past few days?—of her high
+courage, her resolute unselfishness, her splendid
+cheerfulness?  "A singing-bird in the house,"
+that was one of the phrases used, "in wet
+weather or fine."  And then the enthusiastic
+friend muddled her metaphors somehow, and
+gave the puzzled Laird to understand that the
+presence of this young lady in a house was
+like having sweet-brier about the rooms.  No
+wonder he put on his highest and stiffest collar
+before he marched grandly down with us to
+the quay.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And does she not deserve a long holiday
+sir?" says the Laird's hostess to him, as
+together they watch for the steamer coming
+round the point.  "Just fancy!  Two months'
+attendance on that old woman, who was her
+mother's nurse.  Two months in a sick-room,
+without a soul to break the monotony of it.
+And the girl living in a strange town all by
+herself!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay; and in such a town as Edinburgh,"
+remarks the Laird, with great compassion.
+His own property lies just outside Glasgow.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me," says he, "what must a young
+English leddy have thought of our Scotch way
+of speech when she heard they poor Edinburgh
+bodies and their yaumering sing-song?  Not
+that I quarrel with any people for having an
+accent in their way of speaking; they have
+that in all parts of England as well as in
+Scotland—in Yorkshire, and Somersetshire,
+and what not; and even in London itself there
+is a way of speech that is quite recognisable
+to a stranger.  But I have often thought that
+there was less trace of accent about Glesca
+and the west of Scotland than in any other
+part; in fact, ah have often been taken for an
+Englishman maself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!" says this gentle creature standing
+by him; and her upturned eyes are full of an
+innocent belief.  You would swear she was
+meditating on summoning instantly her boys
+from Epsom College that they might acquire
+a pure accent—or get rid of all accent—on
+the banks of the Clyde.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," say the Laird, with a decision almost
+amounting to enthusiasm, "it is a grand
+inheritance that we in the south of Scotland
+are preserving for you English people; and
+you know little of it.  You do not know that
+we are preserving the English language for you
+as it was spoken centuries ago, and as you
+find it in your oldest writings.  Scotticisms!
+Why, if ye were to read the prose of Mandeville
+or Wyclif, or the poetry of Robert of
+Brunne or Langdale, ye would find that our
+Scotticisms were the very pith and marrow
+of the English language.  Ay; it is so."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The innocent eyes express such profound
+interest that the Laird of Denny-mains almost
+forgets about the coming steamer, so anxious
+is he to crush us with a display of his
+erudition.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is just remarkable," he says, "that your
+dictionaries should put down, as obsolete, words
+that are in common use all over the south of
+Scotland, where, as I say, the old Northumbrian
+English is preserved in its purity; and
+that ye should have learned people hunting
+up in Chaucer or Gower for the very speech
+that they might hear among the bits o' weans
+running about the Gallowgate or the
+Broomielaw.  '</span><em class="italics">Wha's acht ye?</em><span>' you say to one of
+them; and you think you are talking Scotch.
+No, no; </span><em class="italics">acht</em><span> is only the old English for
+possession: isn't '</span><em class="italics">Wha's acht ye?</em><span>' shorter
+and pithier than '</span><em class="italics">To whom do you belong?</em><span>'</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, certainly!" says the meek disciple: the
+recall of the boys from Surrey is obviously
+decided on.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And </span><em class="italics">speir</em><span> for </span><em class="italics">inquire</em><span>; and </span><em class="italics">ferly</em><span> for
+</span><em class="italics">wonderful</em><span>; and </span><em class="italics">tyne</em><span> for </span><em class="italics">lose</em><span>; and </span><em class="italics">fey</em><span> for
+</span><em class="italics">about to die</em><span>; and </span><em class="italics">reek</em><span> for </span><em class="italics">smoke</em><span>; and </span><em class="italics">menseful</em><span>
+for </span><em class="italics">becoming</em><span>; and </span><em class="italics">belyve</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">fere</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">biggan</em><span>,
+and such words.  Ye call them Scotch?  Oh,
+no, ma'am; they are English; ye find them
+in all the old English writers; and they are
+the best of English too; a great deal better
+than the Frenchified stuff that your southern
+English has become."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Not for worlds would the Laird have
+wounded the patriotic sensitiveness of this
+gentle friend of his from the South; but
+indeed, she had surely nothing to complain
+of in his insisting to an Englishwoman on
+the value of thorough English?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought," says she, demurely, "that the
+Scotch had a good many French words in it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird pretends not to hear: he is so
+deeply interested in the steamer which is now
+coming over the smooth waters of the bay.
+But, having announced that there are a great
+many people on board, he returns to his
+discourse.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah'm sure of this, too," says he, "that
+in the matter of pronunciation the Lowland
+Scotch have preserved the best English—you
+can see that </span><em class="italics">faither</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">twelmonth</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">twa</em><span>,
+and such words are nearer the original
+Anglo-Saxon——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His hearers had been taught to shudder
+at the phrase Anglo-Saxon—without exactly
+knowing why.  But who could withstand the
+authority of the Laird?  Moreover, we see
+relief drawing near; the steamer's paddles
+are throbbing in the still afternoon.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"If ye turn to </span><em class="italics">Piers the Plowman</em><span>,"
+continues the indefatigable Denny-mains, "ye
+will find Langdale writing—</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>And a fewe Cruddes and Crayme.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Why, it is the familiar phrase of our Scotch
+children!—Do ye think they would say </span><em class="italics">curds</em><span>?
+And then, </span><em class="italics">fewe</em><span>.  I am not sure, but I imagine
+we Scotch are only making use of old English
+when we make certain forms of food plural.
+We say 'a few broth;' we speak of porridge
+as 'they.'  Perhaps that is a survival, too, eh?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, certainly.  But please mind the
+ropes, sir," observes his humble pupil, careful
+of her master's physical safety.  For at this
+moment the steamer is slowing into the quay;
+and the men have the ropes ready to fling
+ashore.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not," remarks the Laird, prudently backing
+away from the edge of the pier, "that I would
+say anything of these matters to your young
+English friend; certainly not.  No doubt she
+prefers the southern English she has been
+accustomed to.  But, bless me! just to think
+that she should judge of our Scotch tongue
+by the way they Edinburgh bodies speak!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is sad, is it not?" remarks his companion—but
+all her attention is now fixed on the
+crowd of people swarming to the side of the
+steamer.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And, indeed," the Laird explains, to close
+the subject, "it is only a hobby of mine—only
+a hobby.  Ye may have noticed that I do not
+use those words in my own speech, though I
+value them.  No, I will not force any Scotch
+on the young leddy.  As ah say, ah have
+often been taken for an Englishman maself,
+both at home and abroad."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And now—and now—the great steamer is
+in at the quay; the gangways are run over;
+there is a thronging up the paddle-boxes; and
+eager faces on shore scan equally eager faces
+on board—each pair of eyes looking for that
+other pair of eyes to flash a glad recognition.
+And where is she—the flower of womankind—the
+possessor of all virtue and grace and
+courage—the wonder of the world?  The
+Laird shares in our excitement.  He, too,
+scans the crowd eagerly.  He submits to be
+hustled by the porters; he hears nothing of
+the roaring of the steam; for is she not coming
+ashore at last?  And we know—or guess—that
+he is looking out for some splendid creature—some
+Boadicea, with stately tread and imperious
+mien—some Jephtha's daughter, with proud
+death in her eyes—some Rosamond of our
+modern days, with a glory of loveliness on her
+face and hair.  And we know that the master
+who has been lecturing us for half-an-hour on
+our disgraceful neglect of pure English will not
+shock the sensitive Southern ear by any harsh
+accent of the North; but will address her in
+beautiful and courtly strains, in tones such as
+Edinburgh never knew.  Where is the queen
+of womankind, amid all this commonplace,
+hurrying, loquacious crowd?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Forthwith the Laird, with a quick amazement
+in his eyes, sees a small and insignificant
+person—he only catches a glimpse of a black dress
+and a white face—suddenly clasped round in
+the warm embrace of her friend.  He stares
+for a second; and then he exclaims—apparently
+to himself:—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me!  What a shilpit bit thing!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Pale—slight—delicate—tiny</em><span>: surely such a
+master of idiomatic English cannot have
+forgotten the existence of these words.  But this
+is all he cries to himself, in his surprise and
+wonder:—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me!  What a shilpit bit thing!"</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="mary-avon"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MARY AVON.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>The bright, frank laugh of her face!—the
+friendly, unhesitating, affectionate look in those
+soft black eyes!  He forgot all about
+Rosamond and Boadicea when he was presented to
+this "shilpit" person.  And when, instead of
+the usual ceremony of introduction, she bravely
+put her hand in his, and said she had often
+heard of him from their common friend, he
+did not notice that she was rather plain.  He
+did not even stop to consider in what degree
+her Southern accent might be improved by
+residence amongst the preservers of pure
+English.  He was anxious to know if she
+was not greatly tired.  He hoped the sea
+had been smooth as the steamer came past
+Easdale.  And her luggage—should he look
+after her luggage for her?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But Miss Avon was an expert traveller, and
+quite competent to look after her own luggage.
+Even as he spoke, it was being hoisted on to
+the waggonette.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You will let me drive?" says she, eying
+critically the two shaggy, farm-looking animals.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed I shall do nothing of the kind,"
+says her hostess, promptly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But there was no disappointment at all on
+her face as we drove away through the golden
+evening—by the side of the murmuring shore,
+past the overhanging fir-wood, up and across
+the high land commanding a view of the wide
+western seas.  There was instead a look of
+such intense delight that we knew, however
+silent the lips might be, that the bird-soul was
+singing within.  Everything charmed her—the
+cool, sweet air, the scent of the sea-weed,
+the glow on the mountains out there in the
+west.  And as she chattered her delight to
+us—like a bird escaped from its prison and
+glad to get into the sunlight and free air
+again—the Laird sate mute and listened.  He
+watched the frank, bright, expressive face.
+He followed and responded to her every mood—with
+a sort of fond paternal indulgence that
+almost prompted him to take her hand.  When
+she smiled, he laughed.  When she talked
+seriously, he looked concerned.  He was
+entirely forgetting that she was a "shilpit bit
+thing;" and he would have admitted that the
+Southern way of speaking English—although,
+no doubt, fallen away from the traditions of
+the Northumbrian dialect—had, after all, a
+certain music in it that made it pleasant to
+the ear.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Up the hill, then, with a flourish for the
+last!—the dust rolling away in clouds behind
+us—the view over the Atlantic widening as
+we ascend.  And here is Castle Osprey, as
+we have dubbed the place, with its wide open
+door, and its walls half hidden with
+tree-fuchsias, and its great rose-garden.  Had Fair
+Rosamond herself come to Castle Osprey that
+evening, she could not have been waited on
+with greater solicitude than the Laird showed
+in assisting this "shilpit bit thing" to
+alight—though, indeed there was a slight stumble,
+of which no one took any notice at the time.
+He busied himself with her luggage quite
+unnecessarily.  He suggested a cup of tea,
+though it wanted but fifteen minutes to
+dinner-time.  He assured her that the glass was
+rising—which was not the case.  And when
+she was being hurried off to her own room to
+prepare for dinner—by one who rules her
+household with a rod of iron—he had the
+effrontery to tell her to take her own time:
+dinner could wait.  The man actually proposed
+to keep dinner waiting—in Castle Osprey.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>That this was love at first sight, who could
+doubt?  And perhaps the nimble brain of one
+who was at this moment hurriedly dressing in
+her own room—and whom nature has constituted
+an indefatigable matchmaker—may have
+been considering whether this rich old bachelor
+might not marry, after all.  And if he were to
+marry, why should not he marry the young
+lady in whom he seemed to have taken so
+sudden and warm an interest?  As for her:
+Mary Avon was now two or three-and-twenty;
+she was not likely to prove attractive to
+young men; her small fortune was scarcely
+worth considering; she was almost alone in
+the world.  Older men had married younger
+women.  The Laird had no immediate
+relative to inherit Denny-mains and his very
+substantial fortune.  And would they not see
+plenty of each other on board the yacht?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But in her heart of hearts the schemer knew
+better.  She knew that the romance-chapter in
+the Laird's life—and a bitter chapter it
+was—had been finished and closed and put away
+many and many a year ago.  She knew how
+the great disappointment of his life had failed
+to sour him; how he was ready to share among
+friends and companions the large and generous
+heart that had been for a time laid at the feet
+of a jilt; how his keen and active interest, that
+might have been confined to his children and
+his children's children, was now devoted to a
+hundred things—the planting at Denny-mains,
+the great heresy case, the patronage of young
+artists, even the preservation of pure English,
+and what not.  And that fortunate young
+gentleman—ostensibly his nephew—whom he
+had sent to Harrow and to Cambridge, who
+was now living a very easy life in the Middle
+Temple, and who would no doubt come in for
+Denny-mains?  Well, we knew a little about
+that young man, too.  We knew why the
+Laird, when he found that both the boy's
+father and mother were dead, adopted him,
+and educated him, and got him to call him
+uncle.  He had taken under his care the son
+of the woman who had jilted him five-and-thirty
+years ago; the lad had his mother's eyes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And now we are assembled in the drawing-room—all
+except the new guest; and the glow
+of the sunset is shining in at the open windows.
+The Laird is eagerly proving to us that the
+change from the cold east winds of Edinburgh
+to the warm westerly winds of the Highlands
+must make an immediate change in the young
+lady's face—and declaring that she ought to
+go on board the yacht at once—-and asserting
+that the ladies' cabin on board the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>
+is the most beautiful little cabin he ever saw—when——</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When, behold! at the open door—meeting
+the glow of the sunshine—appears a
+figure—dressed all in black velvet, plain and unadorned
+but for a broad belt of gold fringe that comes
+round the neck and crosses the bosom.  And
+above that again is a lot of white muslin stuff,
+on which the small, shapely, smooth-dressed
+head seems gently to rest.  The plain black
+velvet dress gives a certain importance and
+substantiality to the otherwise slight figure;
+the broad fringe of gold glints and gleams as
+she moves towards us; but who can even think
+of these things when he meets the brave
+glance of Mary Avon's eyes?  She was
+humming, as she came down the stair—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">O think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">For I'll come and see ye, in spite o' them a',</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>—we might have known it was the bird-soul
+come among us.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Now the manner in which the Laird of
+Denny-mains set about capturing the affections
+of this innocent young thing—as he sate
+opposite her at dinner—would have merited severe
+reproof in one of less mature age; and might,
+indeed, have been followed by serious
+consequences but for the very decided manner in
+which Miss Avon showed that she could take
+care of herself.  Whoever heard Mary Avon
+laugh would have been assured.  And she did
+laugh a good deal; for the Laird, determined
+to amuse her, was relating a series of
+anecdotes which he called "good ones," and which
+seemed to have afforded great enjoyment to
+the people of the south of Scotland during
+the last century or so.  There was in especial
+a Highland steward of a steamer about whom
+a vast number of these stories was told; and
+if the point was at times rather difficult to
+catch, who could fail to be tickled by the
+Laird's own and obvious enjoyment?  "There
+was another good one, Miss Avon," he would
+say; and then the bare memory of the great
+facetiousness of the anecdote would break out
+in such half-suppressed guffaws as altogether
+to stop the current of the narrative.  Miss
+Avon laughed—we could not quite tell whether
+it was at the Highland steward or the Laird—until
+the tears ran down her checks.  Dinner
+was scarcely thought of.  It was a disgraceful
+exhibition.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There was another good one about Homesh,"
+said the Laird, vainly endeavouring to
+suppress his laughter.  "He came up on deck
+one enormously hot day, and looked ashore,
+and saw some cattle standing knee-deep in a
+pool of water.  Says he—ha! ha! ha!—ho! ho! ho!—says
+he—-says he—'</span><em class="italics">A wish a wass
+a stot!</em><span>'—he! he! he!—ho! ho! ho!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Of course we all laughed heartily, and Mary
+Avon more than any of us; but if she had
+gone down on her knees and sworn that she
+knew what the point of the story was, we
+should not have believed her.  But the Laird
+was delighted.  He went on with his good
+ones.  The mythical Homesh and his idiotic
+adventures became portentous.  The very
+servants could scarcely carry the dishes
+straight.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But in the midst of it all the Laird suddenly
+let his knife and fork drop on his plate,
+and stared.  Then he quickly exclaimed—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless me! lassie!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We saw in a second what had occasioned
+his alarm.  The girl's face had become ghastly
+white; and she was almost falling away from
+her chair when her hostess, who happened to
+spring to her feet first, caught her, and held
+her, and called for water.  What could it
+mean?  Mary Avon was not of the sighing
+and fainting fraternity.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And presently she came to herself—and
+faintly making apologies, would go from the
+room.  It was her ankle, she murmured—with
+the face still white from pain.  But when she
+tried to rise, she fell back again: the agony
+was too great.  And so we had to carry her.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>About ten minutes thereafter the mistress
+of the house came back to the Laird, who
+had been sitting by himself, in great concern.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That girl! that girl!" she exclaims—and
+one might almost imagine there are tears in
+her eyes.  "Can you fancy such a thing!  She
+twists her ankle in getting down from the
+waggonette—brings back the old sprain—perhaps
+lames herself for life—and, in spite of the
+pain, sits here laughing and joking, so that
+she may not spoil our first evening together!
+Did you ever hear of such a thing!  Sitting
+here laughing, with her ankle swelled so that
+I had to cut the boot off!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Gracious me!" says the Laird; "is it as
+bad as that?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And if she should become permanently
+lame—why—why——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But was she going to make an appeal direct
+to the owner of Denny-mains?  If the younger
+men were not likely to marry a lame little
+white-faced girl, that was none of his business.
+The Laird's marrying days had departed
+five-and-thirty years before.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>However, we had to finish our dinner,
+somehow, in consideration to our elder guest.
+And then the surgeon came; and bound up
+the ankle hard and fast; and Miss Avon,
+with a thousand meek apologies for being so
+stupid, declared again and again that her foot
+would be all right in the morning, and that we
+must get ready to start.  And when her friend
+assured her that this preliminary canter of
+the yacht might just as well be put off for a
+few days—until, for example, that young
+doctor from Edinburgh came who had been
+invited to go a proper cruise with us—her
+distress was so great that we had to promise
+to start next day punctually at ten.  So she
+sent us down again to amuse the Laird.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But hark! what is this we hear just as Denny-mains
+is having his whisky and hot water brought
+in?  It is a gay voice humming on the stairs—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">By the margin of fair Zürich's waters.</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"That girl!" cries her hostess angrily, as
+she jumps to her feet.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The door opens; and here is Mary
+Avon, with calm self-possession, making her
+way to a chair.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew you wouldn't believe me," she
+says coolly, "if I did not come down.  I tell
+you my foot is as well as may be; and
+Dot-and-carry-one will get down to the yacht in
+the morning as easily as any of you.  And
+that last story about Homesh," she says to
+the Laird, with a smile in the soft black eyes
+that must have made his heart jump.  "Really,
+sir, you must tell me the ending of that story;
+it was so stupid of me!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Shilpit" she may have been; but the Laird,
+for one, was beginning to believe that this girl
+had the courage and nerve of a dozen men.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="under-way"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">UNDER WAY.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>The first eager glance out on this brilliant
+and beautiful morning; and behold! it is all a
+wonder of blue seas and blue skies that we
+find before us, with Lismore lying golden-green
+in the sunlight, and the great mountains
+of Mull and Morven shining with the pale
+etherial colours of the dawn.  And what are
+the rhymes that are ringing through one's
+brain—the echo perchance of something heard
+far away among the islands—the islands that
+await our coming in the west?—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">O land of red heather!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">O land of wild weather,</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">And the cry of the waves, and the laugh of the breeze!</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">O love, now, together</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Through the wind and wild weather</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">We spread our while sails to encounter the seas!</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Up and out, laggards, now; and hoist this
+big red and blue and white thing up to the
+head of the tall pole that the lads far below
+may know to send the gig ashore for us!  And
+there, on the ruffled blue waters of the bay,
+behold! the noble </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, with her great
+mainsail, and mizzen, and jib, all set and glowing
+in the sun; and the scarlet caps of the men
+are like points of fire in this fair blue picture;
+and the red ensign is fluttering in the light
+north-westerly breeze.  Breakfast is hurried
+over; and a small person who has a passion
+for flowers is dashing hither and thither in
+the garden until she has amassed an armful
+of our old familiar friends—abundant roses,
+fuchsias, heart's-ease, various coloured
+columbine, and masses of southernwood to scent
+our floating saloon; the waggonette is at the
+door, to take our invalid down to the landing-slip;
+and the Laird has discarded his dignified
+costume, and appears in a shooting-coat and
+a vast gray wide-awake.  As for Mary Avon,
+she is laughing, chatting, singing, here, there,
+and everywhere—giving us to understand that
+a sprained ankle is rather a pleasure than
+otherwise, and a great assistance in walking;
+until the Laird pounces upon her—as one might
+pounce on a butterfly—and imprisons her in
+the waggonette, with many a serious warning
+about her imprudence.  There let her sing to
+herself as she likes—amid the wild confusion
+of things forgotten till the last moment and
+thrust upon us just as we start.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And here is the stalwart and brown-bearded
+Captain John—John of Skye we call
+him—himself come ashore in the gig, in all his
+splendour of blue and brass buttons; and he
+takes off his peaked cap to the mistress of our
+household—whom some of her friends call
+Queen Titania, because of her midge-like
+size—and he says to her with a smile—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And will Mrs. —— herself be going with
+us this time?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>That is Captain John's chief concern: for
+he has a great regard for this domineering small
+woman; and shows his respect for her, and his
+own high notions of courtesy, by invariably
+addressing her in the third person.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, John!" says she—and she can
+look pleasant enough when she likes—"and
+this is a young friend of mine, Miss Avon, whom
+you have to take great care of on board."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And Captain John takes off his cap again;
+and is understood to tell the young lady that
+he will do his best, if she will excuse his not
+knowing much English.  Then, with great
+care, and with some difficulty, Miss Avon is
+assisted down from the waggonette, and
+conducted along the rough little landing-slip, and
+helped into the stern of the shapely and shining
+gig.  Away with her, boys!  The splash of
+the oars is heard in the still bay; the shore
+recedes; the white sails seem to rise higher
+into the blue sky as we near the yacht; here
+is the black hull with its line of gold—the
+gangway open—the ropes ready—the white
+decks brilliant in the sun.  We are on board
+at last.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And where will Mr. —— himself be for
+going?" asks John of Skye, as the men are
+hauling the gig up to the davits.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. —— briefly but seriously explains to
+the captain that, from some slight experience
+of the winds on this coast, he has found it of
+about as much use to order the tides to be
+changed as to settle upon any definite route.
+But he suggests the circumnavigation of the
+adjacent island of Mull as a sort of preliminary
+canter for a few days, until a certain notable
+guest shall arrive; and he would prefer going
+by the south, if the honourable winds will
+permit.  Further, John of Skye is not to be
+afraid of a bit of sea, on account of either
+of those ladies; both are excellent sailors.
+With these somewhat vague instructions,
+Captain John is left to get the yacht under
+way; and we go below to look after the
+stowage of our things in the various staterooms.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And what is this violent altercation going
+on, in the saloon?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I will not have a word said against my
+captain," says Mary Avon.  "I am in love
+with him already.  His English is perfectly
+correct."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This impertinent minx talking about correct
+English in the presence of the Laird of
+Denny-mains!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. —— herself is perfectly correct;
+it is only politeness; it is like saying 'Your
+Grace' to a Duke."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But who was denying it?  Surely not the
+imperious little woman who was arranging her
+flowers on the saloon table; nor yet Denny-mains,
+who was examining a box of variegated
+and recondite fishing-tackle?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is all very well for fine ladies to laugh
+at the blunders of servant maids," continues
+this audacious girl.  "'Miss Brown presents
+her compliments to Miss Smith; and would
+you be so kind,' and so on.  But don't they
+often make the same blunder themselves?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Well, this was a discovery!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Doesn't Mrs. So-and-So request the
+honour of the company of Mr. So-and-So or
+Miss So-and-So for some purpose or other;
+and then you find at one corner of the card
+'</span><em class="italics">R.S.V.P.</em><span>?'  'Answer if YOU please'!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A painful silence prevailed.  We began to
+reflect.  Whom did she mean to charge with
+this deadly crime?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But her triumph makes her considerate.
+She will not harry us with scorn.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is becoming far less common now,
+however," she remarks.  "'An answer is
+requested,' is much more sensible."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is English," says the Laird, with
+decision.  "Surely it must be more sensible
+for an English person to write English.  Ah
+never use a French word maself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But what is the English that we hear now—called
+out on deck by the voice of John of Skye?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Eachan, slack the lee topping-lift!  Ay,
+and the tackle, too.  That'll do, boys.  Down
+with your main-tack, now!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," exclaims our sovereign mistress,
+who knows something of nautical matters,
+"we must have started!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then there is a tumbling up the companion-way;
+and lo! the land is slowly leaving us; and
+there is a lapping of the blue water along
+the side of the boat; and the white sails of
+the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> are filled with this gentle
+breeze.  Deck-stools are arranged; books and
+field-glasses and what not scattered about;
+Mary Avon is helped on deck, and ensconced
+in a snug little camp-chair.  The days of our
+summer idleness have begun.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And as yet these are but familiar scenes
+that steal slowly by—the long green island
+of Lismore—</span><em class="italics">Lios-mor</em><span>, the Great Garden; the
+dark ruins of Duart, sombre as if the shadow
+of nameless tragedies rested on the crumbling
+walls; Loch Don, with its sea-bird-haunted
+shallows, and Loch Speliv leading up to the
+awful solitudes of Glen More; then, stretching
+far into the wreathing clouds, the long
+rampart of precipices, rugged and barren and
+lonely, that form the eastern wall of Mull.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There is no monotony on this beautiful
+summer morning; the scene changes every
+moment, as the light breeze bears us away
+to the south.  For there is the Sheep Island;
+and Garveloch—which is the rough island;
+and Eilean-na naomha—which is the island
+of the Saints.  But what are these to the
+small transparent cloud resting on the
+horizon?—smaller than any man's hand.  The day is
+still; and the seas are smooth: cannot we
+hear the mermaiden singing on the far shores
+of Colonsay?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Colonsay!" exclaims the Laird, seizing a
+field-glass.  "Dear me!  Is that Colonsay?
+And they telled me that Tom Galbraith was
+going there this very year."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The piece of news fails to startle us
+altogether; though we have heard the Laird
+speak of Mr. Galbraith before.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay," says he, "the world will know
+something o' Colonsay when Tom Galbraith gets
+there."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Whom did you say?" Miss Avon asks.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Galbraith!" says he.  "Tom Galbraith!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird stares in amazement.  Is it
+possible she has not heard of Tom Galbraith?
+And she herself an artist; and coming direct
+from Edinburgh, where she has been living
+for two whole months!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Gracious me!" says the Laird.  "Ye do
+not say ye have never heard of Galbraith—he's
+an Academeecian!—a Scottish Academeecian!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes; no doubt," she says, rather
+bewildered.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no one living has had such an
+influence on our Scotch school of painters
+as Galbraith—a man of great abeelity—a man
+of great and uncommon abeelity—he is one
+of the most famous landscape painters of our
+day——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I scarcely met any one in Edinburgh,"
+she pleads.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But in London—in London!" exclaims
+the astonished Laird.  "Do ye mean to say
+you never heard o' Tom Galbraith?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I think not," she confesses.  "I—I
+don't remember his name in the Academy
+catalogue——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The Royal Academy!" cries the Laird,
+with scorn.  "No, no!  Ye need not expect
+that.  The English Academy is afraid of the
+Scotchmen: their pictures are too strong:
+you do not put good honest whisky beside
+small beer.  I say the English Academy is
+afraid of the Scotch school——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But flesh and blood can stand this no
+longer: we shall not have Mary Avon
+trampled upon.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Denny-mains: we always
+thought there was a Scotchman or two in
+the Royal Academy itself—and quite capable
+of holding their own there, too.  Why, the
+President of the Academy is a Scotchman!
+And as for the Academy exhibition, the very
+walls are smothered with Scotch hills, Scotch
+spates, Scotch peasants, to say nothing of
+the thousand herring-smacks of Tarbert."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell ye they are afraid of Tom Galbraith;
+they will not exhibit one of his
+pictures," says the Laird, stubbornly; and
+here the discussion is closed; for Master Fred
+tinkles his bell below, and we have to go
+down for luncheon.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was most unfair of the wind to take
+advantage of our absence, and to sneak off,
+leaving us in a dead calm.  It was all very
+well, when we came on deck again, to watch
+the terns darting about in their swallow-like
+fashion, and swooping down to seize a fish;
+and the strings of sea-pyots whirring by, with
+their scarlet beaks and legs; and the sudden
+shimmer and hissing of a part of the blue
+plain, where a shoal of mackerel had come
+to the surface; but where were we, now
+in the open Atlantic, to pass the night?
+We relinquished the doubling of the Ross
+of Mull; we should have been content—more
+than content, for the sake of auld
+lang syne—to have put into Carsaig; we
+were beginning even to have ignominious
+thoughts of Loch Buy.  And yet we let
+the golden evening draw on with comparative
+resignation; and we watched the colour
+gathering in the west, and the Atlantic
+taking darker hues, and a ruddy tinge
+beginning to tell on the seamed ridges of
+Garveloch and the isle of Saints.  When
+the wind sprung up again—it had backed to
+due west, and we had to beat against it with
+a series of long tacks, that took us down
+within sight of Islay and back to Mull
+apparently all for nothing—we were deeply
+engaged in prophesying all manner of things
+to be achieved by one Angus Sutherland, an
+old friend of ours, though yet a young man
+enough.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Just fancy, sir!" says our hostess to the
+Laird—the Laird, by the way, does not seem
+so enthusiastic as the rest of us, when he hears
+that this hero of modern days is about to join
+our party.  "What he has done beats all that I
+ever heard about Scotch University students;
+and you know what some of them have
+accomplished in the face of difficulties.  His
+father is a minister in some small place in
+Banffshire; perhaps he has 200*l.* a year at
+the outside.  This son of his has not cost him
+a farthing for either his maintenance or his
+education, since he was fourteen; he took
+bursaries, scholarships, I don't know what, when
+he was a mere lad; supported himself and
+travelled all over Europe—but I think it was
+at Leipsic and at Vienna he studied longest;
+and the papers he has written—the lectures—and
+the correspondence with all the great
+scientific people—when they made him a
+Fellow, all he said was, 'I wish my mother
+was alive.'"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This was rather an incoherent and jumbled
+account of a young man's career.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A Fellow of what?" says the Laird.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A Fellow of the Royal Society!  They
+made him a Fellow of the Royal Society last
+year!  And he is only seven-and-twenty!  I
+do believe he was not over one-and-twenty
+when he took his degree at Edinburgh.  And
+then—and then—there is really nothing that he
+doesn't know: is there, Mary?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This sudden appeal causes Mary Avon to
+flush slightly; but she says demurely, looking
+down—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course I don't know anything that he
+doesn't know."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hm!" says the Laird, who does not seem
+over pleased.  "I have observed that young
+men who are too brilliant at the first, seldom
+come to much afterwards.  Has he gained
+anything substantial?  Has he a good practice?
+Does he keep his carriage yet?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" says our hostess, with a fine
+contempt for such things.  "He has a higher
+ambition than that.  His practice is almost
+nothing.  He prefers to sacrifice that in the
+meantime.  But his reputation—among the
+scientific—why—why, it is European!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hm!" says the Laird.  "I have sometimes
+seen that persons who gave themselves up
+to erudeetion, lost the character of human
+beings altogether.  They become scientific
+machines.  The world is just made up of books
+for them—and lectures—they would not give a
+halfpenny to a beggar for fear of poleetical
+economy——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how can you say such a thing of
+Angus Sutherland!" says she—though he has
+said no such thing of Angus Sutherland.
+"Why, here is this girl who goes to Edinburgh—all
+by herself—to nurse an old woman in her
+last illness; and as Angus Sutherland is in
+Edinburgh on some business—connected with
+the University, I believe—I ask him to call
+on her and see if he can give her any advice.
+What does he do?  He stops in Edinburgh
+two months—editing that scientific magazine
+there instead of in London—and all because
+he has taken an interest in the old woman
+and thinks that Mary should not have the
+whole responsibility on her shoulders.  Is that
+like a scientific machine?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No," says the Laird, with a certain calm
+grandeur; "you do not often find young men
+doing that for the sake of an old woman."  But
+of course we don't know what he means.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And I am so glad he is coming to us!"
+she says, with real delight in her face.  "We
+shall take him away from his microscopes, and
+his societies, and all that.  Oh, and he is such
+a delightful companion—so simple, and natural,
+and straightforward!  Don't you think so, Mary?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Avon is understood to assent: she
+does not say much—she is so deeply interested
+in a couple of porpoises that appear from time
+to time on the smooth plain on the sea.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure a long holiday would do him a
+world of good," says this eager hostess; "but
+that is too much to expect.  He is always too
+busy.  I think he has got to go over to Italy
+soon, about some exhibition of surgical
+instruments, or something of that sort."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We had plenty of further talk about
+Dr. Sutherland, and of the wonderful future that
+lay before him, that evening before we finally
+put into Loch Buy.  And there we dined; and
+after dinner we found the wan, clear twilight
+filling the northern heavens, over the black
+range of mountains, and throwing a silver glare
+on the smooth sea around us.  We could have
+read on deck at eleven at night—-had that
+been necessary; but Mary Avon was humming
+snatches of songs to us, and the Laird was
+discoursing of the wonderful influence exerted
+on Scotch landscape-art by Tom Galbraith.
+Then in the south the yellow moon rose;
+and a golden lane of light lay on the sea, from
+the horizon across to the side of the yacht;
+and there was a strange glory on the decks
+and on the tall, smooth masts.  The peace
+of that night!—the soft air, the silence, the
+dreamy lapping of the water!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And whatever lies before Angus Sutherland,"
+says one of us—"whether a baronetcy,
+or a big fortune, or marriage with an Italian
+princess—he won't find anything better than
+sailing in the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> among the western
+islands."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="a-message"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A MESSAGE.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>What fierce commotion is this that awakes
+us in the morning—what pandemonium broken
+loose of wild storm-sounds—-with the stately
+</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, ordinarily the most sedate and
+gentle of her sex, apparently gone mad, and
+flinging herself about as if bent on
+somersaults?  When one clambers up the
+companion-way, clinging hard, and puts one's
+head out into the gale, behold! there is not
+a trace of land visible anywhere—nothing but
+whirling clouds of mist and rain; and
+mountain-masses of waves that toss the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>
+about as if she were a plaything; and decks
+all running wet with the driven spray.  John
+of Skye, clad from head to heel in black
+oilskins—and at one moment up in the clouds,
+the next moment descending into the great
+trough of the sea—-hangs on to the rope that
+is twisted round the tiller; and laughs a
+good-morning; and shakes the salt water from his
+shaggy eyebrows and beard.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hallo!  John—where on earth have we got to?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I say WHERE ARE WE?" is shouted, for
+the roar of the rushing Atlantic in deafening.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Deed I not think we are far from Loch
+Buy," says John of Skye, grimly.  "The wind
+is dead ahead of us—ay, shist dead ahead!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What made you come out against a headwind then?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"When we cam' out," says John—picking
+his English, "the wind will be from the norse—ay,
+a fine light breeze from the norse.  And
+will Mr. —— himself be for going on now?
+it is a ferry bad sea for the leddies—a ferry
+coorse sea."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But it appears that this conversation—bawled
+aloud—has been overheard.  There
+are voices from below.  The skylight of the
+ladies' cabin is partly open.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't mind us," calls Mary Avon.  "Go
+on by all means!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The other voice calls—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why can't you keep this fool of a boat
+straight?  Ask him when we shall be into
+the Sound of Iona."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>One might as well ask him when we shall
+be into the Sound of Jericho or Jerusalem.
+With half a gale of wind right in our teeth,
+and with the heavy Atlantic swell running,
+we might labour here all day—and all the night
+too—without getting round the Ross of Mull.
+There is nothing for it but to turn and run,
+that we may have our breakfast in peace.  Let
+her away, then, you brave John of Skye!—slack
+out the main-sheet, and give her plenty
+of it, too: then at the same moment Sandy
+from Islay perceives that a haul at the weather
+topping-lift will clear the boom from the davits;
+and now—and now, good Master Fred—our
+much-esteemed and shifty Friedrich d'or—if
+you will but lay the cloth on the table, we
+will help you to steady the dancing
+phantasmagoria of plates and forks!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me!" says the Laird, when we are
+assembled together, "it has been an awful
+night!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I hope you have not been ill!" says
+his hostess, with a quick concern in the soft,
+clear eyes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He does not look as if he had suffered
+much.  He is contentedly chipping an egg;
+and withal keeping an eye on the things near
+him, for the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, still plunging a good
+deal, threatens at times to make of everything
+on the table a movable feast.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, ma'am, not ill," he says.  "But
+at my time of life, ye see, one is not as light
+in weight as one used to be; and the way I
+was flung about in that cabin last night was
+just extraordinary.  When I was trying to
+put on my boots this morning, I am sure I
+resembled nothing so much as a pea in a
+bladder—indeed it was so—I was knocked
+about like a pea in a bladder."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Of course we expressed great sympathy,
+and assured him that the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>—famed
+all along this coast for her sober and steady-going
+behaviour—would never act so any more.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"However," said he thoughtfully, "the
+wakefulness of the night is often of use to
+people.  Yes, I have come to a decision."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We were somewhat alarmed: was he going
+to leave us merely because of this bit of
+tossing?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I dare say ye know, ma'am," says he
+slowly, "that I am one of the Commissioners
+of the Burgh of Strathgovan.  It is a poseetion
+of grave responsibility.  This very question
+now—about our getting a steam fire-engine—has
+been weighing on my mind for many a
+day.  Well, I have decided I will no longer
+oppose it.  They may have the steam
+fire-engine as far as I am concerned."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We felt greatly relieved.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," continued the Laird, solemnly, "I
+think I am doing my duty in this matter as a
+public man should—laying aside his personal
+prejudice.  But the cost of it!  Do ye know
+that we shall want bigger nozzles to all the
+fire-plugs?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Matters were looking grave again.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"However," said the Laird cheerfully—for
+he would not depress us too much, "it may
+all turn out for the best; and I will telegraph
+my decision to Strathgovan as soon as ever
+the storm allows us to reach a port."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The storm, indeed!  When we scramble
+up on deck again, we find that it is only a
+brisk sailing breeze we have; and the </span><em class="italics">White
+Dove</em><span> is bowling merrily along, flinging high
+the white spray from her bows.  And then
+we begin to see that, despite those driving
+mists around us, there is really a fine clear
+summer day shining far above this twopenny-halfpenny
+tempest.  The whirling mists break
+here and there; and we catch glimpses of a
+placid blue sky, flecked with lines of motionless
+cirrhus cloud.  The breaks increase; floods
+of sunshine fall on the gleaming decks; clearer
+and clearer become the vast precipices of
+southern Mull; and then, when we get well
+to the lee of Eilean-straid-ean, behold! the
+blue seas around us once more; and the blue
+skies overhead; and the red ensign fluttering
+in the summer breeze.  No wonder that Mary
+Avon sings her delight—as a linnet sings after
+the rain; and though the song is not meant
+for us at all, but is really hummed to herself
+as she clings on to the shrouds and watches
+the flashing and dipping of the white-winged
+gulls, we know that it is all about a jolly
+young waterman.  The audacious creature:
+John of Skye has a wife and four children.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Too quickly indeed does the fair summer
+day go by—as we pass the old familiar Duart
+and begin to beat up the Sound of Mull
+against a fine light sailing breeze.  By the
+time we have reached Ardtornish, the Laird
+has acquired some vague notion as to how
+the gaff topsail is set.  Opposite the
+dark-green woods of Funeray, he tells us of the
+extraordinary faculty possessed by Tom
+Galbraith of representing the texture of foliage.
+At Salen we have Master Fred's bell
+summoning us down to lunch; and thereafter, on
+deck, coffee, draughts, crochet, and a
+profoundly interesting description of some of the
+knotty points in the great Semple heresy case.
+And here again, as we bear away over almost
+to the mouth of Loch Sunart, is the open
+Atlantic—of a breezy grey under the
+lemon-colour and silver of the calm evening sky.
+What is the use of going on against this
+contrary wind, and missing, in the darkness
+of the night, all the wonders of the western
+islands that the Laird is anxious to see?  We
+resolve to run into Tobermory; and by and
+by we find ourselves under the shadow of the
+wooded rocks, with the little white town
+shining along the semicircle of the bay.  And
+very cleverly indeed does John of Skye cut
+in among the various craft—showing off a
+little bit, perhaps—until the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> is
+brought up to the wind, and the great
+anchor-cable goes out with a roar.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Now it was by the merest accident that we
+got at Tobermory a telegram that had been
+forwarded that very day to meet us on our
+return voyage.  There was no need for any
+one to go ashore, for we were scarcely in port
+before a most praiseworthy gentleman was so
+kind as to send us on board a consignment
+of fresh flowers, vegetables, milk, eggs, and
+so forth—the very things that become of
+inestimable value to yachting people.  However,
+we had two women on board; and of course—despite
+a certain bandaged ankle—they must
+needs go shopping.  And Mary Avon, when
+we got ashore, would buy some tobacco for
+her favourite Captain John; and went into
+the post-office for that purpose, and was having
+the black stuff measured out by the yard when
+some mention was made of the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>.
+Then a question was asked; there was a
+telegram; it was handed to Miss Avon, who
+opened it and read it.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said she, looking rather concerned;
+and then she regarded her friend with some
+little hesitation.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is my uncle," she says; "he wants to
+see me on very urgent business.  He is—coming—to
+see me—the day after to-morrow."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Blank consternation followed this announcement.
+This person, even though he was
+Mary Avon's sole surviving relative, was quite
+intolerable to us.  East Wind we had called
+him in secret, on the few occasions on which
+he had darkened our doors.  And just as we
+were making up our happy family party—with
+the Laird, and Mary, and Angus
+Sutherland—to sail away to the far Hebrides,
+here was this insufferable creature—with his
+raucous voice, his washed-out eyes, his pink
+face, his uneasy manner, and general groom
+or butler-like appearance—thrusting himself on us!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you know, Mary," says her hostess—entirely
+concealing her dismay in her
+anxious politeness—"we shall almost
+certainly be home by the day after to-morrow, if
+we get any wind at all.  So you had better
+telegraph to your uncle to come on to Castle
+Osprey, and to wait for you if you are not
+there; we cannot be much longer than that.
+And Angus Sutherland will be there; he will
+keep him company until we arrive."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>So that was done, and we went on board
+again—one of us meanwhile vowing to
+himself that ere ever Mr. Frederick Smethurst
+set sail with us on board the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, a
+rifle-bullet through her hull would send that
+gallant vessel to the lobsters.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Now what do you think our Mary Avon
+set to work to do—all during this beautiful
+summer evening, as we sat on deck and eyed
+curiously the other craft in the bay, or watched
+the firs grow dark against the silver-yellow
+twilight?  We could not at first make out
+what she was driving at.  Her occupation in
+the world, so far as she had any—beyond
+being the pleasantest of companions and the
+faithfullest of friends—was the painting of
+landscapes in oil, not the construction of
+Frankenstein monsters.  But here she begins
+by declaring to us that there is one type of
+character that has never been described by
+any satirist, or dramatist, or fictionist—a
+common type, too, though only becoming
+pronounced in rare instances.  It is the moral
+Tartuffe, she declares—the person who is
+through and through a hypocrite, not to cloak
+evil doings, but only that his eager love of
+approbation may be gratified.  Look now how
+this creature of diseased vanity, of plausible
+manners, of pretentious humbug, rises out of
+the smoke like the figure summoned by a
+wizard's wand!  As she gives us little touches
+here and there of the ways of this professor
+of bonhomie—this bundle of affectations—we
+begin to prefer the most diabolical villainy
+that any thousand of the really wicked
+Tartuffes could have committed.  He grows and
+grows.  His scraps of learning, as long as
+those more ignorant than himself are his
+audience; his mock humility anxious for
+praise; his parade of generous and sententious
+sentiment; his pretence—pretence—pretence—all
+arising from no evil machinations
+whatever, but from a morbid and restless
+craving for esteem.  Hence, horrible shadow!
+Let us put out the candles and get to bed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But next morning, as we find ourselves out
+on the blue Atlantic again, with Ru-na-Gaul
+lighthouse left far behind, and the pale line
+of Coll at the horizon, we begin to see why
+the skill and patient assiduity of this amateur
+psychologist should have raised that ghost for
+us the night before.  Her uncle is coming.
+He is not one of the plausible kind.  And if
+it should be necessary to invite him on board,
+might we not the more readily tolerate his
+cynical bluntness and rudeness, after we have
+been taught to abhor as the hatefullest of
+mortals the well-meaning hypocrite whose
+vanity makes his life a bundle of small lies?
+Very clever indeed, Miss Avon—very clever.
+But don't you raise any more ghosts; they
+are unpleasant company—even as an antidote.
+And now, John of Skye, if it must be that
+we are to encounter this pestilent creature at
+the end of our voyage, clap on all sail now,
+and take us right royally down through these
+far islands of the west.  Ah! do we not know
+them of old?  Soon as we get round the
+Cailleach Point we descry the nearest of them
+amid the loneliness of the wide Atlantic sea.
+For there is Carnaburg, with her spur of rock;
+and Fladda, long and rugged, and bare; and
+Lunga, with her peak; and the Dutchman's
+Cap—a pale blue in the south.  How bravely
+the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> swings on her way—springing
+like a bird over the western swell!  And as
+we get past Ru-Treshnish, behold! another
+group of islands—Gometra and the green-shored
+Ulva, that guard the entrance to Loch
+Tua; and Colonsay, the haunt of the sea
+birds; and the rock of Erisgeir—all shining
+in the sun.  And then we hear a strange
+sound—different from the light rush of the
+waves—a low, and sullen, and distant booming,
+such as one faintly hears in a sea-shell.
+As the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> ploughs on her way, we
+come nearer and nearer to this wonder of the
+deep—the ribbed and fantastic shores of Staffa;
+and we see how the great Atlantic rollers,
+making for the cliffs of Gribun and Burg,
+are caught by those outer rocks and torn into
+masses of white foam, and sent roaring and
+thundering into the blackness of the caves.
+We pass close by; the air trembles with the
+shock of that mighty surge; there is a mist
+of spray rising into the summer air.  And
+then we sail away again; and the day wears
+on as the white-winged </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> bounds
+over the heavy seas; and Mary Avon—as we
+draw near the Ross of Mull, all glowing in the
+golden evening—is singing a song of Ulva.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But there is no time for romance, as the
+</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> (drawing eight feet of water)
+makes in for the shallow harbour outside
+Bunessan.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Down foresail!" calls out our John of
+Skye; and by and by her head comes up to
+the wind, the great mainsail flapping in the
+breeze.  And again, "Down chub, boys!" and
+there is another rattle and roar amid the
+silence of this solitary little bay.  The herons
+croak their fright and fly away on heavy
+wing; the curlews whistle shrilly; the
+sea-pyots whirr along the lonely shores.  And
+then our good Friedrich d'or sounds his
+silver-toned bell.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The stillness of this summer evening on
+deck; the glory deepening over the wide
+Atlantic; the delightful laughter of the Laird
+over those "good ones" about Homesh; the
+sympathetic glance of Mary Avon's soft black
+eyes: did we not value them all the more
+that we knew we had something far different
+to look forward to?  Even as we idled away
+the beautiful and lambent night, we had a
+vague consciousness that our enemy was
+stealthily drawing near.  In a day or two at
+the most we should find the grim spectre of
+the East Wind in the rose-garden of Castle Osprey.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="a-brave-career"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A BRAVE CAREER.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Bur when we went on deck the next morning
+we forgot all about the detestable person
+who was about to break in upon our peace
+(there was small chance that our faithful Angus
+Sutherland might encounter the snake in this
+summer paradise, and trample on him, and
+pitch him out; for this easy way of getting
+rid of disagreeable folk is not permitted in
+the Highlands nowadays) as we looked on
+the beautiful bay shining all around us.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me!" said Denny-mains, "if Tom
+Galbraith could only see that now!  It is a
+great peety he has never been to this place.
+I'm thinking I must write to him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird did not remember that we had
+an artist on board—one who, if she was not
+so great an artist as Mr. Galbraith, had at
+least exhibited one or two small landscapes
+in oil at the Royal Academy.  But then the
+Academicians, though they might dread the
+contrast between their own work and that of
+Tom Galbraith, could have no fear of Mary Avon.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And even Mr. Galbraith himself might have
+been puzzled to find among his pigments any
+equivalent for the rare and clear colours of
+this morning scene as now we sailed away
+from Bunessan with a light topsail breeze.
+How blue the day was—blue skies, blue seas,
+a faint transparent blue along the cliffs of
+Burg and Gribun, a darker blue where the
+far Ru-Treshanish ran out into the sea, a
+shadow of blue to mark where the caves of
+Staffa retreated from the surface of the
+sun-brown rocks!  And here, nearer at hand, the
+warmer colours of the shore—the soft, velvety
+olive-greens of the moss and breckan; the
+splashes of lilac where the rocks were bare
+of herbage; the tender sunny reds where the
+granite promontories ran out to the sea; the
+beautiful cream-whites of the sandy bays!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Here, too, are the islands again as we get
+out into the open—Gometra, with its one white
+house at the point; and Inch Kenneth, where
+the seals show their shining black heads among
+the shallows; and Erisgeir and Colonsay, where
+the skarts alight to dry their wings on the
+rocks; and Staffa, and Lunga, and the
+Dutchman, lying peaceful enough now on the calm
+blue seas.  We have time to look at them,
+for the wind is slight, and the broad-beamed
+</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> is not a quick sailer in a light
+breeze.  The best part of the forenoon is
+over before we find ourselves opposite to the
+gleaming white sands of the northern bays
+of Iona.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely both of us together will be able
+to make him stay longer than ten days," says
+the elder of the two women to the younger—and
+you may be sure she was not speaking
+of East Wind.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Avon looks up with a start; then
+looks down again—perhaps with the least
+touch of colour in her face—as she says
+hurriedly—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I think you will.  He is your friend.
+As for me—you see—I—I scarcely know him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Mary!" says the other reproachfully.
+"You have been meeting him constantly all
+these two months; you must know him better
+than any of us.  I am sure I wish he was on
+board now—he could tell us all about the
+geology of the islands, and what not.  It will
+be delightful to have somebody on board who
+knows something."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Such is the gratitude of women!—and the
+Laird had just been describing to her some
+further points of the famous heresy case.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And then he knows Gaelic!" says the
+elder woman.  "He will tell us what all the
+names of the islands mean."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," says the younger one, "he
+understands Gaelic very well, though he cannot
+speak much of it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And I think he is very fond of boats,"
+remarks our hostess.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, exceedingly—exceedingly!" says the
+other, who, if she does not know Angus
+Sutherland, seems to have picked up some
+information about him somehow.  "You
+cannot imagine how he has been looking forward
+to sailing with you; he has scarcely had any
+holiday for years."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then he must stay longer than ten days,"
+says the elder woman; adding with a smile,
+"you know, Mary, it is not the number of
+his patients that will hurry him back to London."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but I assure you," says Miss Avon
+seriously, "that he is not at all anxious to
+have many patients—as yet!  Oh, no!—I
+never knew any one who was so indifferent
+about money.  I know he would live on bread
+and water—if that were necessary—to go on
+with his researches.  He told me himself that
+all the time he was at Leipsic his expenses
+were never more than 1*l.* a week."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>She seemed to know a good deal about the
+circumstances of this young F.R.S.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at what he has done with those
+anæsthetics," continues Miss Avon.  "Isn't it
+better to find out something that does good
+to the whole world than give yourself up to
+making money by wheedling a lot of old women?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This estimate of the physician's art was not
+flattering.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But," she says warmly, "if the Government
+had any sense, that is just the sort of man
+they would put in a position to go on with
+his invaluable work.  And Oxford and Cambridge,
+with all their wealth, they scarcely even
+recognise the noblest profession that a man
+can devote himself to—when even the poor
+Scotch Universities and the Universities all
+over Europe have always had their medical
+and scientific chairs.  I think it is perfectly
+disgraceful!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Since when had she become so strenuous
+an advocate of the endowment of research?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, look at Dr. Sutherland—when he is
+burning to get on with his own proper
+work—when his name is beginning to be known all
+over Europe—he has to fritter away his time
+in editing a scientific magazine and in those
+hospital lectures.  And that, I suppose, is
+barely enough to live on.  But I know," she
+says, with decision, "that in spite of everything—I
+know that before he is five-and-thirty, he
+will be President of the British Association."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Here, indeed, is a brave career for the Scotch
+student: cannot one complete the sketch as it
+roughly exists in the minds of those two women?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At twenty-one, B.M. of Edinburgh.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At twenty-six, F.R.S.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At thirty, Professor of Biology at Oxford:
+the chair founded through the intercession of
+the women of Great Britain.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At thirty-five, President of the British Association.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At forty, a baronetcy, for further discoveries
+in the region of anæsthetics.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At forty-five, consulting physician to half the
+gouty old gentlemen of England, and amassing
+an immense fortune.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At fifty——</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Well, at fifty, is it not time that "the poor
+Scotch student," now become great and famous
+and wealthy, should look around for some
+beautiful princess to share his high estate with
+him?  He has not had time before to think
+of such matters.  But what is this now?  Is
+it that microscopes and test-tubes have dimmed
+his eyes?  Is it that honours and responsibilities
+have silvered his hair?  Or, is the
+drinking deep of the Pactolus stream a deadly
+poison?  There is no beautiful princess awaiting
+him anywhere.  He is alone among his
+honours.  There was once a beautiful
+princess—beautiful-souled and tender-eyed, if not
+otherwise too lovely—awaiting him among the
+Western Seas; but that time is over and gone
+many a year ago.  The opportunity has passed.
+Ambition called him away, and he left her;
+and the last he saw of her was when he bade
+good-bye to the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>What have we to do with these idle dreams?
+We are getting within sight of Iona village
+now; and the sun is shining on the green
+shores, and on the ruins of the old cathedral,
+and on that white house just above the
+cornfield.  And as there is no good anchorage
+about the island, we have to make in for a
+little creek on the Mull side of the Sound,
+called Polterriv, or the Bull-hole; and this
+creek is narrow, tortuous, and shallow; and
+a yacht drawing eight feet of water has to be
+guided with some circumspection—especially
+if you go up to the inner harbour above the
+rock called the Little Bull.  And so we make
+inquiries of John of Skye, who has not been
+with us here before.  It is even hinted, that
+if he is not quite sure of the channel, we might
+send the gig over to Iona for John Macdonald,
+who is an excellent pilot.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"John Macdonald!" exclaims John of Skye,
+whose professional pride has been wounded.
+"Will John Macdonald be doing anything
+more than I wass do myself in the
+Bull-hole—ay, last year—last year I will tek my own
+smack out of the Bull-hole at the norse end,
+and ferry near low water, too; and her
+deep-loaded?  Oh, yes, I will be knowing the
+Bull-hole this many a year."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And John of Skye is as good as his word.
+Favoured by a flood-tide, we steal gently into
+the unfrequented creek, behind the great rocks
+of red granite; and so extraordinarily clear is
+the water that, standing upright on the deck,
+we can see the white sand of the bottom with
+shoals of young saithe darting this way and
+that.  And then just as we get opposite an
+opening in the rocks, through which we can
+descry the northern shores of Iona, and above
+those the blue peak of the Dutchman, away
+goes the anchor with a short, quick rush; her
+head swings round to meet the tide; the </span><em class="italics">White
+Dove</em><span> is safe from all the winds that blow.  Now
+lower away the gig, boys, and bear us over
+the blue waters of the Sound!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am really afraid to begin," Mary Avon
+says, as we remonstrate with her for not
+having touched a colour-tube since she started.
+"Besides, you know, I scarcely look on it that
+we have really set out yet.  This is only a
+sort of shaking ourselves into our places; I
+am only getting accustomed to the ways of
+our cabin now.  I shall scarcely consider that
+we have started on our real voyaging until——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Oh, yes, we know very well.  Until we have
+got Angus Sutherland on board.  But what
+she really said was, after slight hesitation:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"——until we set out for the Northern Hebrides."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, it's a good thing to feel nervous about
+beginning," says the Laird, as the long sweep
+of the four oars brings us nearer and nearer to
+the Iona shores.  "I have often heard Tom
+Galbraith say that to the younger men.  He
+says if a young man is over confident, he'll come
+to nothing.  But there was a good one I once
+heard Galbraith tell about a young man that
+was pentin at Tarbert—that's Tarbert on Loch
+Fyne, Miss Avon.  Ay, well, he was pentin
+away, and he was putting in the young lass
+of the house as a fisher-lass; and he asked
+her if she could not get a creel to strap on
+her back, as a background for her head, ye
+know.  Well, says she——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Here the fierce humour of the story began
+to bubble up in the Laird's blue-grey eyes.
+We were all half laughing already.  It was
+impossible to resist the glow of delight on the
+Laird's face.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Says she—just as pat as ninepence—says
+she, 'it's your ain head that wants a creel!'"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The explosion was inevitable.  The roar of
+laughter at this good one was so infectious
+that a subdued smile played over the rugged
+features of John of Skye.  "</span><em class="italics">It's your ain head
+that wants a creel:</em><span>" the Laird laughed, and
+laughed again, until the last desperately
+suppressed sounds were something like
+</span><em class="italics">kee! kee! kee!</em><span>  Even Mary Avon pretended to understand.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There was a real good one," says he,
+obviously overjoyed to have so appreciative
+an audience, "that I mind of reading in the
+Dean's </span><em class="italics">Reminiscences</em><span>.  It was about an old
+leddy in Edinburgh who met in a shop a
+young officer she had seen before.  He was
+a tall young man, and she eyed him from head
+to heel, and says she—ha! ha!—says she,
+'</span><em class="italics">Od, ye're a lang lad: God gie ye grace.</em><span>'  Dry—very
+dry—wasn't it?  There was real
+humour in that—a pawky humour that people
+in the South cannot understand at all.  '</span><em class="italics">Od</em><span>',
+says she, '</span><em class="italics">ye're a lang lad: God grant ye
+grace.</em><span>'  There was a great dale of character
+in that."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We were sure of it; but still we preferred
+the Laird's stories about Homesh.  We
+invariably liked best the stories at which the
+Laird laughed most—whether we quite
+understood their pawky humour or not.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dr. Sutherland has a great many stories
+about the Highlanders," says Miss Avon
+timidly; "they are very amusing."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"As far as I have observed," remarked the
+Laird—for how could he relish the notion of
+having a rival anecdote-monger on
+board?—"as far as I have observed, the Highland
+character is entirely without humour.  Ay, I
+have heard Tom Galbraith say that very
+often, and he has been everywhere in the
+Highlands."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then," says Mary Avon, with a quick
+warmth of indignation in her face—how rapidly
+those soft dark eyes could change their
+expression!—"I hope Mr. Galbraith knows more
+about painting than he knows about the
+Highlanders!  I thought that anybody who knows
+anything knows that the Celtic nature is full
+of imagination, and humour, and pathos, and
+poetry; and the Saxon—the Saxon!—it is his
+business to plod over ploughed fields, and be
+as dull and commonplace as the other animals
+he sees there!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Gracious goodness!—here was a tempest!
+The Laird was speechless; for, indeed, at this
+moment we bumped against the sacred shores—that
+is to say, the landing-slip—of Iona; and
+had to scramble on to the big stones.  Then
+we walked up and past the cottages, and
+through the potato-field, and past the white
+inn, and so to the hallowed shrine and its
+graves of the kings.  We spent the whole of
+the afternoon there.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When we got back to the yacht and to
+dinner we discovered that a friend had visited
+us in our absence, and had left of his largesse
+behind him—nasturtiums and yellow-and-white
+pansies, and what not—to say nothing of fresh
+milk, and crisp, delightful lettuce.  We drank
+his health.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Was it the fear of some one breaking
+in on our domestic peace that made that
+last evening among the western islands so
+lovely to us?  We went out in the gig after
+dinner; the Laird put forth his engines of
+destruction to encompass the innocent lythe;
+we heard him humming the "Haughs o' Cromdale"
+in the silence.  The wonderful glory of
+that evening!—Iona become an intense
+olive-green against the gold and crimson of the
+sunset; the warm light shining along the red
+granite of western Mull.  Then the yellow
+moon rose in the south—into the calm
+violet-hued vault of the heavens; and there was a
+golden fire on the ripples and on the wet
+blades of the oars as we rowed back with
+laughter and singing.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Sing tantara! sing tantara!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Sing tantara! sing tantara!</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Said he, the Highland army rues</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">That ere they came to Cromdale!</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>And then, next morning, we were up at five
+o'clock.  If we were going to have a tooth
+pulled, why not have the little interview over
+at once?  East Wind would be waiting for us
+at Castle Osprey.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Blow, soft westerly breeze, then, and bear us
+down by Fion-phort, and round the granite
+Ross—shining all a pale red in the early dawn.
+And here is Ardalanish Point; and there, as
+the morning goes by, are the Carsaig arches,
+and then Loch Buy, and finally the blue Firth
+of Lorn.  Northward now, and still
+northward—until, far away, the white house shining
+amidst the firs, and the flag fluttering in the
+summer air.  Have they descried us, then?
+Or is the bunting hoisted in honour of guests?
+The pale cheek of Mary Avon tells a tale as
+she descries that far signal; but that is no
+business of ours.  Perhaps it is only of her
+uncle that she is thinking.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="our-new-guests"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">OUR NEW GUESTS.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Behold, now!—this beautiful garden of
+Castle Osprey all ablaze in the sun—the roses,
+pansies, poppies, and what not bewildering our
+eyes after the long looking at the blue water
+and, in the midst of the brilliant paradise—just
+as we had feared—the snake!  He did not
+scurry away at our approach, as snakes are
+wont to do; or raise his horrent head, and
+hiss.  The fact is, we found him comfortably
+seated under a drooping ash, smoking.  He
+rose and explained that he had strolled up
+from the shore to await our coming.  He did
+not seem to notice that Mary Avon, as she
+came along, had to walk slowly, and was
+leaning on the arm of the Laird.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Certainly nature had not been bountiful to
+this short, spare person who had now come
+among us.  He had closely-cropped, coarse grey
+hair; an eagle beak; a certain pink and raw
+appearance of the face, as if perpetual east winds
+had chafed the skin; and a most pernicious
+habit of loudly clearing his husky throat.
+Then with the aggressive nose went a
+well-defined pugilist's jaw and a general hang-dog
+scowl about the mouth.  For the rest
+Mr. Smethurst seemed desirous of making up for
+those unpleasant features which nature had
+bestowed upon him by a studied air of
+self-possession, and by an extreme precision of
+dress.  Alack, and well-a-day! these laudable
+efforts were of little avail.  Nature was too
+strong for him.  The assumption of a languid
+air was not quite in consonance with the
+ferrety grey eyes and the bull-dog mouth;
+the precision of his costume only gave him
+the look of a well-dressed groom, or a butler
+gone on the turf.  There was not much grateful
+to the sight about Mr. Frederick Smethurst.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But were we to hate the man for being ugly?
+Despite his raw face, he might have the white
+soul of an angel.  And in fact we knew
+absolutely nothing against his public character or
+private reputation, except that he had once
+gone through the Bankruptcy Court; and
+even of that little circumstance our
+womenfolk were not aware.  However, there was no
+doubt at all that a certain coldness—apparent
+to us who knew her well—marked the manner
+of this small lady who now went up and shook
+hands with him, and declared—unblushingly—that
+she was so glad he had run up to
+the Highlands.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And you know," said she, with that
+charming politeness which she would show to the
+arch-fiend himself if he were properly
+introduced to her, "you know, Mr. Smethurst, that
+yachting is such an uncertain thing, one never
+knows when one may get back; but if you
+could spare a few days to take a run with us,
+you would see what a capital mariner Mary
+has become, and I am sure it would be a
+great pleasure to us."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>These were actually her words.  She uttered
+them without the least tremor of hesitation.
+She looked him straight in the face with those
+clear, innocent, confiding eyes of hers.  How
+could the man tell that she was wishing him
+at Jericho?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And it was in silence that we waited to
+hear our doom pronounced.  A yachting
+trip with this intolerable Jonah on board!
+The sunlight went out of the day; the blue
+went out of the sky and the seas; the
+world was filled with gloom, and chaos, and
+East Wind!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Imagine, then, the sudden joy with which
+we heard of our deliverance!  Surely it was
+not the raucous voice of Frederick Smethurst,
+but a sound of summer bells.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, thank you," he said, in his affectedly
+indifferent way; "but the fact is, I have run up
+to see Mary only on a little matter of business,
+and I must get back at once.  Indeed, I
+purpose leaving by the Dalmally coach in the
+afternoon.  Thank you very much, though;
+perhaps some other time I may be more
+fortunate."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>How we had wronged this poor man!  We
+hated him no longer.  On the contrary, great
+grief was expressed over his departure; and
+he was begged at least to stay that one
+evening.  No doubt he had heard of Dr. Angus
+Sutherland, who had made such
+discoveries in the use of anæsthetics?
+Dr. Sutherland was coming by the afternoon
+steamer.  Would not he stay and meet him
+at dinner?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Our tears broke out afresh—metaphorically—when
+East Wind persisted in his intention
+of departure; but of course compulsion was
+out of the question.  And so we allowed him
+to go into the house, to have that business
+interview with his niece.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A poor crayture!" remarked the Laird
+confidently, forgetting that he was talking of a
+friend of ours.  "Why does he not speak out
+like a man, instead of drawling and dawdling?
+His accent is jist insufferable."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And what business can he have with
+Mary?" says our sovereign lady sharply—just
+as if a man with a raw skin and an
+eagle-beak must necessarily be a pickpocket.
+"He was the trustee of that little fortune of
+hers, I know; but that is all over.  She got
+the money when she came of age.  What can
+he want to see her about now?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We concerned ourselves not with that.  It
+was enough for us that the snake was about
+to retreat from our summer paradise of his
+own free will and pleasure.  And Angus
+Sutherland was coming; and the provisioning
+of the yacht had to be seen to; for
+to-morrow—to-morrow we spread our white wings again
+and take flight to the far north!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Never was parting guest so warmly speeded.
+We concealed our tears as the coach rolled
+away.  We waved a hand to him.  And then,
+when it was suggested that the wagonette
+that had brought Mary Avon down from
+Castle Osprey might just as well go along to the
+quay—for the steamer bringing Dr. Sutherland
+would be in shortly—and when we actually did
+set out in that direction, there was so little grief
+on our faces that you could not have told we
+had been bidding farewell to a valued friend
+and relative.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Now if our good-hearted Laird had had a
+grain of jealousy in his nature, he might well
+have resented the manner in which these two
+women spoke of the approaching guest.  In
+their talk the word "he" meant only one
+person.  "He" was sure to come by this
+steamer.  "He" was so punctual in his
+engagements.  Would he bring a gun or a rod;
+or would the sailing be enough amusement for
+him?  What a capital thing it was for him to
+be able to take an interest in some such
+out-of-door exercise, as a distraction to the mind!
+And so forth, and so forth.  The Laird heard
+all this, and his expectations were no doubt
+rising and rising.  Forgetful of his disappointment
+on first seeing Mary Avon, he was in all
+likelihood creating an imaginary figure of
+Angus Sutherland—and, of course, this marvel
+of erudition and intellectual power must be
+a tall, wan, pale person, with the travail of
+thinking written in lines across the spacious
+brow.  The Laird was not aware that for
+many a day after we first made the
+acquaintance of the young Scotch student he was
+generally referred to in our private conversation
+as "Brose."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And, indeed, the Laird did stare considerably
+when he saw—elbowing his way through
+the crowd and making for us with a laugh of
+welcome on the fresh-coloured face—a
+stout-set, muscular, blue-eyed, sandy-haired,
+good-humoured-looking, youngish man; who, instead
+of having anything Celtic about his appearance,
+might have been taken for the son of a
+south-country farmer.  Our young Doctor was
+carrying his own portmanteau, and sturdily shoving
+his way through the porters who would fain
+have seized it.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am glad to see you, Angus," said our
+queen regent, holding out her hand; and there
+was no ceremonial politeness in that
+reception—but you should have seen the look in her
+eyes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then he went on to the waggonette.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you do, Miss Avon?" said he,
+quite timidly, like a school-boy.  He scarcely
+glanced up at her face, which was regarding
+him with a very pleasant welcome; he seemed
+relieved when he had to turn and seize his
+portmanteau again.  Knowing that he was
+rather fond of driving, our mistress and
+admiral-in-chief offered him the reins, but he
+declined the honour; Mary Avon was sitting
+in front.  "Oh, no, thank you," said he quite
+hastily, and with something uncommonly like a
+blush.  The Laird, if he had been entertaining
+any feeling of jealousy, must have been
+reassured.  This Doctor-fellow was no formidable
+rival.  He spoke very little—he only listened—as
+we drove away to Castle Osprey.  Mary
+Avon was chatting briskly and cheerfully, and
+it was to the Laird that she addressed that
+running fire of nonsense and merry laughter.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But the young Doctor was greatly concerned
+when, on our arrival at Castle Osprey, he saw
+Mary Avon helped down with much care, and
+heard the story of the sprain.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who bandages your ankle?" said he at
+once, and without any shyness now.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I do it myself," said she cheerfully.  "I
+can do it well enough."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, you cannot!" said he abruptly; "a
+person stooping cannot.  The bandage should
+be as tight, and as smooth, as the skin of a
+drum.  You must let some one else do that
+for you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And he was disposed to resent this walking
+about in the garden before dinner.  What
+business had she to trifle with such a serious
+matter as a sprain?  And a sprain which was
+the recall of an older sprain.  "Did she wish
+to be lame for life?" he asked sharply.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Avon laughed, and said that worse
+things than that had befallen people.  He
+asked her whether she found any pleasure in
+voluntary martyrdom; she blushed a little, and
+turned to the Laird.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird was at this moment laying before
+us the details of a most gigantic scheme.  It
+appeared that the inhabitants of Strathgovan,
+not content with a steam fire-engine, were
+talking about having a public park—actually
+proposing to have a public park, with beds of
+flowers, and iron seats; and, to crown all, a
+gymnasium, where the youths of the neighbourhood
+might twirl themselves on the gay trapeze
+to their hearts' content.  And where the
+subscriptions were to come from; and what were
+the hardiest plants for borders; and whether
+the gymnasium should be furnished with ropes
+or with chains—these matters were weighing
+heavily on the mind of our good friend of
+Denny-mains.  Angus Sutherland relapsed into
+silence, and gazed absently at a tree-fuchsia
+that stood by.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a beautiful tree, is it not?" said a
+voice beside him—that of our midge-like
+empress.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He started.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," he said cheerfully.  "I was
+thinking I should like to live the life of a
+tree like that, dying in the winter, you know,
+and being quite impervious to frost, and snow,
+and hard weather; and then, as soon as the
+fine warm spring and summer came round,
+coming to life again and spreading yourself out
+to feel all the sunlight and the warm winds.
+That must be a capital life."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But do you really think they can feel that?
+Why, you must believe that those trees and
+flowers are alive!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Does anybody doubt it?" said he quite
+simply.  "They are certainly alive.  Why——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And here he bethought himself for a moment.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"If I only had a good microscope now," said
+he eagerly, "I would show you the life of a
+plant directly—in every cell of it: did you
+never see the constant life in each cell—the
+motion of the chlorophyll granules circling and
+circling night and day?  Did no one ever show
+you that?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Well, no one had ever shown us that.  We
+may now and again have entertained angels
+unawares; but we were not always stumbling
+against Fellows of the Royal Society.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I must borrow one somewhere," said
+he decisively, "and show you the secret life of
+even the humblest plant that exists.  And then
+look what a long life it is, in the case of the
+perennial plants.  Did you ever think of that?
+Those great trees in the Yosemite valley—they
+were alive and feeling the warm sunlight and
+the winds about them when Alfred was hiding
+in the marshes; and they were living the same
+undisturbed life when Charles the First had his
+head chopped off; and they were living—in
+peace and quietness—when all Europe had to
+wake up to stamp out the Napoleonic pest;
+and they are alive now and quite careless of
+the little creatures that come to span out their
+circumference, and ticket them, and give them
+ridiculous names.  Had any of the patriarchs a
+life as long as that?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird eyed this young man askance.
+There was something uncanny about him.
+What might not he say when—in the
+northern solitudes to which we were going—the
+great Semple heresy-case was brought on
+for discussion?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But at dinner the Laird got on very well
+with our new guest; for the latter listened
+most respectfully when Denny-mains was
+demonstrating the exceeding purity, and strength,
+and fitness of the speech used in the south of
+Scotland.  And indeed the Laird was generous.
+He admitted that there were blemishes.  He
+deprecated the introduction of French words;
+and gave us a much longer list of those aliens
+than usually appears in books.  What about
+</span><em class="italics">conjee</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">que-vee</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">fracaw</em><span> as used by
+Scotch children and old wives?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then after dinner—at nine o'clock the
+wonderful glow of the summer evening was still
+filling the drawing-room—the Laird must needs
+have Mary Avon sing to him.  It was not a
+custom of hers.  She rarely would sing a song
+of set purpose.  The linnet sings all day—when
+you do not watch her; but she will not
+sing if you go and ask.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>However, on this occasion, her hostess went
+to the piano, and sat down to play the
+accompaniment; and Mary Avon stood beside her
+and sang, in rather a low voice—but it was
+tender enough—some modern version of the
+old ballad of the Queen's Maries.  What were
+the words?  These were of them, any way:—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Yestreen the Queen had four Maries;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">This night she'll hae but three:</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">And Mary Carmichael, and me.</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>But indeed, if you had seen that graceful
+slim figure—clad all in black velvet, with the
+broad band of gold fringe round the neck—and
+the small, shapely, smoothly-brushed head above
+the soft swathes of white muslin—and if you
+had caught a glimpse of the black eyelashes
+drooping outward from the curve of the pale
+cheek—and if you had heard the tender, low
+voice of Mary Avon, you might have forgotten
+about the Queen's Maries altogether.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And then Dr. Sutherland: the Laird was
+determined—in true Scotch fashion—that
+everybody who could not sing should be
+goaded to sing.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well," said the young man, with a
+laugh, "you know a student in Germany must
+sing whether he can or not.  And I learned
+there to smash out something like an
+accompaniment also."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And he went to the piano without more ado
+and did smash out an accompaniment.  And if
+his voice was rather harsh?—well, we should
+have called it raucous in the case of East
+Wind, but we only called it manly and
+strenuous when it was Angus Sutherland who sang.
+And it was a manly song, too—a fitting song
+for our last night on shore, the words hailing
+from the green woods of Fuinary, the air an
+air that had many a time been heard among
+the western seas.  It was the song of the
+Biorlinn[#] that he sang to us; we could hear
+the brave chorus and the splash of the long oars:—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Send the biorlinn on careering!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Cheerily and all together—</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together—</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Give her way and show her wake</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">'Mid showering spray and curling eddies—</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together—</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Do we not hear now the measured stroke in the
+darkness of the morning?  The water springs
+from her bows; one by one the headlands are
+passed.  But lo! the day is breaking; the dawn
+will surely bring a breeze with it; and then the
+sail of the gallant craft will bear her over the
+seas:—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Another cheer, our Isle appears!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Our biorlinn bears her on the faster—</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together—</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ahead she goes! the land she knows!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Behold! the snowy shores of Canna—</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together—</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>A long, strong pull together indeed: who could
+resist joining in the thunder of the chorus?
+And we were bound for Canna, too: this was
+our last night on shore.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] </span><em class="italics small">Biorlinn</em><span class="small">—that is, a rowing-boat.  The word is pronounced
+</span><em class="italics small">byurlen</em><span class="small">.  The song, which in a measure imitates the rhythm
+peculiar to Highland poetry—consisting in a certain repetition
+of the same vowel sounds—is the production of Dr. Macleod,
+of Morven.  And here, for the benefit of any one who minds
+such things, is a rough draft of the air, arranged by a most
+charming young lady, who, however, says she would much
+rather die than have her name mentioned:—</span></p>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 77%" id="figure-10">
+<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Music fragments" src="images/img-092.jpg" />
+<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin">
+<span class="italics">Music fragments</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Our last night on shore.  In such circumstances
+one naturally has a glance round at the
+people with whom one is to be brought into
+such close contact for many and many a day.
+But in this particular case, what was the use
+of speculating, or grumbling, or remonstrating?
+There is a certain household that is ruled with
+a rod of iron.  And if the mistress of that
+household chose to select as her summer companions
+a "shilpit bit thing," and a hard-headed,
+ambitious Scotch student, and a parochial
+magnate haunted by a heresy-case, how dared one
+object?  There is such a thing as peace and
+quietness.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But however unpromising the outlook might
+be, do we not know the remark that is usually
+made by that hard-worked officer, the chief
+mate, when, on the eve of a voyage, he finds
+himself confronted by an unusually mongrel
+crew?  He regards those loafers and outcasts—from
+the Bowery, and Ratcliffe Highway,
+and the Broomielaw—Greeks, niggers, and
+Mexicans—with a critical and perhaps scornful
+air, and forthwith proceeds to address them in
+the following highly polished manner:—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"By etcetera-etcetera, you are an etceteraed
+rum-looking lot; but etcetera-etcetera me </span><em class="italics">if I
+don't lick you into shape before we get to Rio</em><span>."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And so—good-night!—and let all good
+people pray for fair skies and a favouring
+breeze!  And if there is any song to be heard
+in our dreams, let it be the song of the Queen's
+Maries—in the low, tender voice of Mary Avon:—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">And Mary Carmichael, and me.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="northward"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">NORTHWARD.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>We have bidden good-bye to the land; the
+woods and the green hills have become pale
+in the haze of the summer light; we are out
+here, alone, on the shining blue plain.  And
+if our young Doctor betrays a tendency to
+keep forward—conversing with John of Skye
+about blocks, and tackle, and winches; and
+if the Laird—whose parental care and regard
+for Mary Avon is becoming beautiful to
+see—should have quite a monopoly of the young
+lady, and be more bent than ever on amusing
+her with his "good ones;" and if our queen
+and governor should spend a large portion
+of her time below, in decorating cabins with
+flowers, in overhauling napery, and in earnest
+consultation with Master Fred about certain
+culinary mysteries; notwithstanding all these
+divergences of place and occupation, our little
+kingdom afloat is compact enough.  There is
+always, for example, a reassembling at meals.
+There is an instant community of interest when
+a sudden cry calls all hands on deck to regard
+some new thing—the spouting of a whale or the
+silvery splashing of a shoal of mackerel.  But
+now—but now—if only some cloud-compelling
+Jove would break this insufferably fine weather,
+and give us a tearing good gale!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It is a strange little kingdom.  It has no
+postal service.  Shilling telegrams are unknown
+in it; there is no newspaper at breakfast.
+There are no barrel-organs; nor rattling
+hansoms raising the dust in windy streets; there
+is no afternoon scandal; overheated rooms at
+midnight are a thing of the past.  Serene,
+independent, self-centred, it minds its own
+affairs; if the whole of Europe were roaring
+for war, not even an echo of the cry would
+reach us.  We only hear the soft calling of
+the sea-birds as we sit and read, or talk,
+or smoke; from time to time watching the
+shadows move on the blistering hot decks,
+or guessing at the names of the blue mountains
+that rise above Loch Etive and Lochaber.  At
+the present moment there is a faint summer
+haze over these mountains; as yet we have
+around us none of the dazzling light and
+strangely intense colours that are peculiar to
+this part of the world, and that are only
+possible, in fact, in an atmosphere frequently
+washed clear by squalls of rain.  This question
+of rain turns up at lunch.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They prayed for rain in the churches last
+Sunday—so Captain John says," Mary Avon
+remarks.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The distilleries are stopped: that's very
+serious," continues the Laird.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," says Queen T., "people talk about
+the rain in the West Highlands.  It must be
+true, as everybody says it is true.  But
+now—excepting the year we went to America with
+Sylvia Balfour—we have been here for five
+years running; and each year we made up
+our mind for a deluge—thinking we had
+deserved it, you know.  Well, it never came.
+Look at this now."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And the fact was that we were lying motionless
+on the smooth bosom of the Atlantic, with
+the sun so hot on the decks that we were glad
+to get below.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very strange—very strange, indeed,"
+remarked the Laird, with a profound air.  "Now
+what value are we to put on any historical
+evidence if we find such a conflict of testimony
+about what is at our own doors?  How should
+there be two opeenions about the weather in the
+West Highlands?  It is a matter of common
+experience—dear me!  I never heard the like."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but I think we might try to reconcile
+those diverse opinions!" said Angus Sutherland,
+with an absolute gravity.  "You hear mostly
+the complaints of London people, who make
+much of a passing shower.  Then the tourist
+and holiday folk, especially from the South,
+come in the autumn, when the fine summer
+weather has broken.  And then," he added,
+addressing himself with a frank smile to the
+small creature who had been expressing her
+wonder over the fine weather, "perhaps, if you
+are pleased with your holiday on the whole, you
+are not anxious to remember the wet days; and
+then you are not afraid of a shower, I know;
+and besides that, when one is yachting, one is
+more anxious for wind than for fine weather."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I am sure that is it!" called out Mary
+Avon quite eagerly.  She did not care how
+she destroyed the Laird's convictions about
+the value of historical evidence.  "That is an
+explanation of the whole thing."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At this, our young Doctor—-who had been
+professing to treat this matter seriously merely
+as a joke—quickly lowered his eyes.  He
+scarcely ever looked Mary Avon in the face
+when she spoke to him, or when he had to
+speak to her.  And a little bit of shy
+embarrassment in his manner towards her—perceivable
+only at times—was all the more
+singular in a man who was shrewd and
+hard-headed enough, who had knocked about the
+world and seen many persons and things, and
+who had a fair amount of unassuming
+self-confidence, mingled with a vein of sly and
+reticent humour.  He talked freely enough
+when he was addressing our admiral-in-chief.
+He was not afraid to meet </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> eyes.  Indeed,
+they were so familiar friends that she called
+him by his Christian name—a practice which
+in general she detested.  But she would as
+soon have thought of applying "Mr." to one
+of her own boys at Epsom College as to
+Angus Sutherland.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you know, Angus," says she pleasantly,
+"you have definitely promised to go
+up to the Outer Hebrides with us, and back.
+The longer the calms last, the longer we shall
+have you.  So we shall gladly put up with
+the fine weather."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is very kind of you to say so; but I
+have already had such a long holiday——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Mary Avon, with her eyes full
+of wonder and indignation.  She was too
+surprised to say any more.  She only stared
+at him.  She knew he had been working
+night and day in Edinburgh.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean," said he hastily, and looking down,
+"I have been away so long from London.
+Indeed, I was getting rather anxious about
+my next month's number; but luckily, just
+before I left Edinburgh, a kind friend sent
+me a most valuable paper, so I am quite at
+ease again.  Would you like to read it, sir?
+It is set up in type."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He took the sheets from his pocket, and
+handed them to the Laird.  Denny-mains
+looked at the title.  It was </span><em class="italics">On the Radiolarians
+of the Coal Measures</em><span>, and it was the
+production of a well-known professor.  The
+Laird handed back the paper without opening it.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thank you," said he, with some dignity.
+"If I wished to be instructed, I would like a
+safer guide than that man."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We looked with dismay on this dangerous
+thing that had been brought on board: might
+it not explode and blow up the ship?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," said our Doctor, in unaffected
+wonder, and entirely mistaking the Laird's
+exclamation, "he is a perfect master of his subject."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a great deal too much speculation
+nowadays on these matters, and parteecularly
+among the younger men," remarked the Laird
+severely.  And he looked at Angus Sutherland.
+"I suppose now ye are well acquainted
+with the </span><em class="italics">Vestiges of Creation</em><span>?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have heard of the book," said Brose—regretfully
+confessing his ignorance, "but I
+never happened to see it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird's countenance lightened.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So much the better—so much the better.
+A most mischievous and unsettling book.  But
+all the harm it can do is counteracted by a
+noble work—a conclusive work that leaves
+nothing to be said.  Ye have read the
+</span><em class="italics">Testimony of the Rocks</em><span>, no doubt?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, certainly," our Doctor was glad
+to be able to say; "but—but it was a long
+time ago—when I was a boy, in fact."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Boy, or man, you'll get no better book
+on the history of the earth.  I tell ye, sir, I
+never read a book that placed such firm
+conviction in my mind.  Will ye get any of the
+new men they are talking about as keen an
+observer and as skilful in arguing as Hugh
+Miller?  No, no; not one of them dares to
+try to upset the </span><em class="italics">Testimony of the Rocks</em><span>."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Angus Sutherland appealed against this
+sentence of finality only in a very humble way.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, sir," said he meekly, "you know
+that science is still moving forward——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Science?" repeated the Laird.  "Science
+may be moving forward or moving backward;
+but can it upset the facts of the earth?
+Science may say what it likes; but the facts
+remain the same."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Now this point was so conclusive that we
+unanimously hailed the Laird as victor.  Our
+young Doctor submitted with an excellent
+good humour.  He even promised to post
+that paper on the Radiolarians at the very
+first post-office we might reach: we did not
+want any such explosive compounds on board.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>That night we only got as far as Fishnish
+Bay—a solitary little harbour probably down
+on but few maps; and that we had to reach
+by getting out the gig for a tow.  There was
+a strange bronze-red in the northern skies, long
+after the sun had set; but in here the shadow
+of the great mountains was on the water.  We
+could scarcely see the gig; but Angus Sutherland
+had joined the men and was pulling
+stroke; and along with the measured splash
+of the oars, we heard something about "</span><em class="italics">Ho,
+ro, clansmen!</em><span>"  Then, in the cool night air,
+there was a slight fragrance of peat-smoke;
+we knew we were getting near the shore.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a fine fellow, that," says the Laird,
+generously, of his defeated antagonist.  "A
+fine fellow.  His knowledge of different things
+is just remarkable; and he's as modest as a
+girl.  Ay, and he can row, too; a while ago
+when it was lighter, I could see him put his
+shoulders into it.  Ay, he's a fine, good-natured
+fellow, and I am glad he has not been led
+astray by that mischievous book, the </span><em class="italics">Vestiges
+of Creation</em><span>."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Come on board now, boys, and swing up
+the gig to the davits!  Twelve fathoms of
+chain?—away with her then!—and there is a
+roar in the silence of the lonely little bay.
+And thereafter silence; and the sweet
+fragrance of the peat in the night air, and the
+appearance, above the black hills, of a clear,
+shining, golden planet that sends a quivering
+line of light across the water to us.  And,
+once more, good-night and pleasant dreams!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But what is this in the morning?  There
+have been no pleasant dreams for John of
+Skye and his merry men during the last night;
+for here we are already between Mingary Bay
+and Ru-na-Gaul Lighthouse; and before us is
+the open Atlantic, blue under the fair skies
+of the morning.  And here is Dr. Sutherland,
+at the tiller, with a suspiciously negligent look
+about his hair and shirt-collar.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been up since four," says he, with a
+laugh.  "I heard them getting under way,
+and did not wish to miss anything.  You know
+these places are not so familiar to me as
+they are to you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there going to be any wind to-day, John?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No mich," says John of Skye, looking at
+the cloudless blue vault above the glassy
+sweeps of the sea.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, as the morning goes by, we
+get as much of a breeze as enables us to draw
+away from the mainland—round Ardnamurchan
+("the headland of the great sea") and out into
+the open—with Muick Island, and the sharp
+Scuir of Eigg, and the peaks of Rum lying over
+there on the still Atlantic, and far away in the
+north the vast and spectral mountains of Skye.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And now the work of the day begins.  Mary
+Avon, for mere shame's sake, is at last
+compelled to produce one of her blank canvases
+and open her box of tubes.  And now it
+would appear that Angus Sutherland—though
+deprived of the authority of the sick-room—is
+beginning to lose his fear of the English
+young lady.  He makes himself useful—not
+with the elaborate and patronising courtesy of
+the Laird, but in a sort of submissive, matter-of-fact
+shifty fashion.  He sheathes the spikes
+of her easel with cork so that they shall not
+mark the deck.  He rigs up, to counterbalance
+that lack of stability, a piece of cord with a
+heavy weight.  Then, with the easel fixed, he
+fetches her a deck-chair to sit in, and a
+deck-stool for her colours, and these and her he
+places under the lee of the foresail, to be out
+of the glare of the sun.  Thus our artist is
+started; she is going to make a sketch of the
+after-part of the yacht with Hector of Moidart
+at the tiller: beyond, the calm blue seas, and
+a faint promontory of land.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then the Laird—having confidentially
+remarked to Miss Avon that Tom Galbraith,
+than whom there is no greater authority living,
+invariably moistens the fresh canvas with
+megilp before beginning work—has turned to
+the last report of the Semple case.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," says he to our sovereign lady,
+who is engaged in some mysterious work in
+wool, "it does not look well for the Presbytery
+to go over every one of the charges in the
+major proposeetion—supported by the
+averments in the minor—only to find them
+irrelevant; and then bring home to him the part
+of the libel that deals with tendency.  No, no;
+that shows a lamentable want of purpose.  In
+view of the great danger to be apprehended
+from these secret assaults on the inspiration
+of the Scriptures, they should have stuck to
+each charge with tenahcity.  Now, I will just
+show ye where Dr. Carnegie, in defending
+</span><em class="italics">Secundo</em><span>—illustrated as it was with the extracts
+and averments in the minor—let the whole
+thing slip through his fingers."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But if any one were disposed to be absolutely
+idle on this calm, shining, beautiful day—far
+away from the cares and labours of the
+land?  Out on the taffrail, under shadow of
+the mizen, there is a seat that is gratefully
+cool.  The Mare of the sea no longer bewilders
+the eyes; one can watch with a lazy
+enjoyment the teeming life of the open
+Atlantic.  The great skarts go whizzing by,
+long-necked, rapid of flight.  The gannets
+poise in the air, and then there is a sudden
+dart downwards, and a spout of water flashes
+up where the bird has dived.  The guillemots
+fill the silence with their soft kurrooing—and
+here they are on all sides of us—</span><em class="italics">Kirroo!
+Kurroo!</em><span>—dipping their bills in the water,
+hastening away from the vessel, and then
+rising on the surface to flap their wings.  But
+this is a strange thing: they are all in
+pairs—obviously mother and child—and the mother
+calls </span><em class="italics">Kurroo!  Kurroo!</em><span>—and the young one
+unable as yet to dive or swim, answers
+</span><em class="italics">Pe-yoo-it!  Pe-yoo-it!</em><span> and flutters and paddles
+after her.  But where is the father?  And has
+the guillemot only one of a family?  Over
+that one, at all events, she exercises a valiant
+protection.  Even though the stem of the
+yacht seems likely to run both of them down,
+she will neither dive nor fly until she has
+piloted the young one out of danger.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then a sudden cry startles the Laird from
+his heresy-case and Mary Avon from her
+canvas.  A sound far away has turned all
+eyes to the north; though there is nothing
+visible there, over the shining calm of the
+sea, but a small cloud of white spray that
+slowly sinks.  In a second or two, however,
+we see another jet of white water arise; and
+then a great brown mass heave slowly over;
+and then we hear the spouting of the whale.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What a huge animal!" cries one.  "A
+hundred feet!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Eighty, any way!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The whale is sheering off to the north:
+there is less and less chance of our forming
+any correct estimate.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I am sure it was a hundred!  Don't
+you think so, Angus?" says our admiral.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," says the Doctor, slowly—pretending
+to be very anxious about keeping the sails full
+(when there was no wind)—"you know there
+is a great difference between 'yacht
+measurement' and 'registered tonnage.'  A vessel of
+fifty registered tons may become eighty or
+ninety by yacht measurement.  And I have
+often noticed," continues this graceless young
+man, who takes no thought how he is bringing
+contempt on his elders, "that objects seen from
+the deck of a yacht are naturally subject to
+'yacht measurement.'  I don't know what the
+size of that whale may be.  Its registered
+tonnage, I suppose, would be the number of
+Jonahs it could carry.  But I should think that
+if the apparent 'yacht measurement' was a
+hundred feet, the whale was probably about
+twenty feet long."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was thus he tried to diminish the marvels
+of the deep!  But, however he might crush us
+otherwise, we were his masters on one point.
+The Semple heresy-case was too deep even
+for him.  What could he make of "</span><em class="italics">the first
+alternative of the general major</em><span>"?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And see now, on this calm summer evening,
+we pass between Muick and Eigg; and the
+sea is like a plain of gold.  As we draw near
+the sombre mass of Rum, the sunset deepens,
+and a strange lurid mist hangs around this
+remote and mountainous island rising sheer
+from the Atlantic.  Gloomy and mysterious
+are the vast peaks of Haleval and Haskeval;
+we creep under them—favoured by a flood-tide—and
+the silence of the desolate shores seems
+to spread out from them and to encompass us.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Avon has long ago put away her
+canvas; she sits and watches; and her soft
+black eyes are full of dreaming as she gazes
+up at those thunder-dark mountains against the
+rosy haze of the west.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Haleval and Haskeval?" Angus Sutherland
+repeats, in reply to his hostess; but he starts
+all the same, for he has been covertly regarding
+the dark and wistful eyes of the girl sitting
+there.  "Oh, these are Norse names.  Scuir
+na Gillean, on the other hand, is Gaelic—it is
+</span><em class="italics">the peak of the young men</em><span>.  Perhaps, the
+Norsemen had the north of the island, and
+the Celts the south."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Whether they were named by Scandinavian
+or by Celt, Haleval and Haskeval seemed to
+overshadow us with their sultry gloom as we
+slowly glided into the lonely loch lying at their
+base.  We were the only vessel there; and we
+could make out no sign of life on shore, until
+the glass revealed to us one or two half-ruined
+cottages.  The northern twilight shone in the
+sky far into the night; but neither that clear
+metallic glow, nor any radiance from moon, or
+planet, or star, seemed to affect the thunder-darkness
+of Haskeval and Haleval's silent peaks.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was another tale to tell below—the
+big saloon aglow with candles; the white table-cover
+with its centre-piece of roses, nasturtiums,
+and ferns; the delayed dinner, or supper, or
+whatever it might be called, all artistically arranged;
+our young Doctor most humbly solicitous
+that Mary Avon should be comfortably seated,
+and, in fact, quite usurping the office of the
+Laird in that respect; and then a sudden sound
+in the galley, a hissing as of a thousand squibs,
+telling us that Master Fred had once more and
+ineffectually tried to suppress the released genie
+of the bottle by jamming down the cork.
+Forthwith the Laird, with his old-fashioned
+ways, must needs propose a health, which is
+that of our most sovereign and midge-like
+mistress; and this he does with an elaborate
+and gracious and sonorous courtesy.  And
+surely there is no reason why Mary Avon
+should not for once break her habit and join
+in that simple ceremony; especially when it
+is a real live Doctor—and not only a Doctor,
+but an encyclopædia of scientific and all other
+knowledge—who would fain fill her glass?
+Angus Sutherland timidly but seriously pleads;
+and he does not plead in vain; and you would
+think from his look that she had conferred an
+extraordinary favour on him.  Then we—we
+propose a health too—the health of the FOUR
+WINDS! and we do not care which of them it
+is who is coming to-morrow, so long as he
+or she comes in force.  Blow, breezes, blow!—from
+the Coolins of Skye, or the shores of
+Coll, or the glens of Arisaig and Moidart—for
+to-morrow morning we shake out once more
+the white wings of the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, and set
+forth for the loneliness of the northern seas.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="plots-and-counter-plots"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Now the Laird has a habit—laudable or not—of
+lingering over an additional half-cup at
+breakfast, as an excuse for desultory talk; and
+thus it is, on this particular morning, the young
+people having gone on deck to see the yacht get
+under way, that Denny-mains has a chance
+of revealing to us certain secret schemes of his
+over which he has apparently been brooding.
+How could we have imagined that all this
+plotting and planning had been going on
+beneath the sedate exterior of the
+Commissioner for the Burgh of Strathgovan?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"She's just a wonderful bit lass!" he says,
+confidently, to his hostess; "as happy and
+contented as the day is long; and when she's
+not singing to herself, her way of speech has a
+sort of—a sort of music in it that is quite new
+to me.  Yes, I must admit that; I did not
+know that the southern English tongue was
+so accurate and pleasant to the ear.  Ay,
+but what will become of her?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>What, indeed!  The lady whom he was
+addressing had often spoken to him of Mary
+Avon's isolated position in the world.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It fairly distresses me," continues the
+good-hearted Laird, "when I think of her
+condeetion—not at present, when she has, if I may be
+allowed to say so, </span><em class="italics">several</em><span> friends near her
+who would be glad to do what they could for
+her; but by and by, when she is becoming
+older——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird hesitated.  Was it possible, after
+all, that he was about to hint at the chance of
+Mary Avon becoming the mistress of the
+mansion and estate of Denny-mains?  Then
+he made a plunge.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A young woman in her position should
+have a husband to protect her, that is what
+I am sure of.  Have ye never thought of it,
+ma'am?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like very well to see Mary
+married," says the other, demurely.  "And I
+know she would make an excellent wife."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"An excellent wife!" exclaims the Laird;
+and then he adds, with a tone approaching to
+severity, "I tell ye he will be a fortunate man
+that gets her.  Oh, ay; I have watched her.
+I can keep my eyes open when there is need.
+Did you hear her asking the captain about his
+wife and children?  I tell you there's </span><em class="italics">human
+nature</em><span> in that lass."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was no need for the Laird to be so
+pugnacious; we were not contesting the point.
+However, he resumed—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been thinking," said he, with a little
+more shyness, "about my nephew.  He's a
+good lad.  Well, ye know, ma'am, that I do
+not approve of young men being brought up in
+idleness, whatever their prospects must be;
+and I have no doubt whatever that my nephew
+Howard is working hard enough—what with the
+reading of law-books, and attending the courts,
+and all that—though as yet he has not had
+much business.  But then there is no necessity.
+I do not think he is a lad of any great
+ambeetion, like your friend Mr. Sutherland, who has
+to fight his way in the world in any case.  But
+Howard—I have been thinking now that if he
+was to get married and settled, he might give
+up the law business altogether; and, if they
+were content to live in Scotland, he might look
+after Denny-mains.  It will be his in any case,
+ye know; he would have the interest of a man
+looking after his own property.  Now, I will
+tell ye plainly, ma'am, what I have been
+thinking about this day or two back; if Howard
+would marry your young lady friend, that
+would be agreeable to me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The calm manner in which the Laird
+announced his scheme showed that it had been
+well matured.  It was a natural, simple, feasible
+arrangement, by which two persons in whom he
+took a warm interest would be benefited at once.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But then, sir," said his hostess, with a
+smile which she could not wholly repress, "you
+know people never do marry to please a third
+person—at least, very seldom."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there can be no forcing," said the Laird
+with decision.  "But I have done a great deal
+for Howard; may I not expect that he will do
+something for me?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, doubtless, doubtless," says this amiable
+lady, who has had some experience in match-making
+herself; "but I have generally found
+that marriages that would be in every way
+suitable and pleasing to friends, and obviously
+desirable, are precisely the marriages that never
+come off.  Young people, when they are flung
+at each other's heads, to use the common
+phrase, never will be sensible and please their
+relatives.  Now if you were to bring your
+nephew here, do you think Mary would fall in
+love with him because she ought?  More
+likely you would find that, out of pure
+contrariety, she would fall in love with
+Angus Sutherland, who cannot afford to
+marry, and whose head is filled with other
+things."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not sure, I am not sure," said the
+Laird, musingly.  "Howard is a good-looking
+young fellow, and a capital lad, too.  I am not
+so sure."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And then, you know," said the other shyly,
+for she will not plainly say anything to Mary's
+disparagement, "young men have different
+tastes in their choice of a wife.  He might not
+have the high opinion of her that you have."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At this the Laird gave a look of surprise—even
+of resentment.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I'll tell ye what it is, ma'am," said
+he, almost angrily; "if my nephew had the
+chance of marrying such a girl, and did not do
+so, I should consider him—I should consider
+him </span><em class="italics">a fool</em><span>, and say so."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And then he added, sharply—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And do ye think I would let Denny-mains
+pass into the hands of </span><em class="italics">a fool</em><span>?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Now this kind lady had had no intention of
+rousing the wrath of the Laird in this manner;
+and she instantly set about pacifying him.  And
+the Laird was easily pacified.  In a minute or
+two he was laughing good-naturedly at himself
+for getting into a passion; he said it would not
+do for one at his time of life to try to play the
+part of the stern father as they played that in
+theatre pieces—there was to be no forcing.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But he's a good lad, ma'am, a good lad,"
+said he, rising as his hostess rose; and he
+added, significantly, "he is no fool, I assure ye,
+ma'am; he has plenty of common sense."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When we get up on deck again, we find that
+the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> is gently gliding out of the
+lonely Loch Scresorst, with its solitary house
+among the trees, and its crofters' huts at the
+base of the sombre hills.  And as the light cool
+breeze—gratefully cool after the blazing heat of
+the last day or two—carries us away
+northward, we see more and more of the awful
+solitudes of Haleval and Haskeval, that are
+still thunderous and dark under the hazy sky.
+Above the great shoulders, and under the
+purple peaks, we see the far-reaching corries
+opening up, with here and there a white
+waterfall just visible in the hollows.  There is a
+sense of escape as we draw away from that
+overshadowing gloom.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then we discover that we have a new
+skipper to-day, </span><em class="italics">vice</em><span> John of Skye, deposed.
+The fresh hand is Mary Avon, who is at the
+tiller, and looking exceedingly business-like.
+She has been promoted to this post by
+Dr. Sutherland, who stands by; she receives
+explanations about the procedure of Hector of
+Moidart, who is up aloft, lacing the smaller
+topsail to the mast; she watches the operations
+of John of Skye and Sandy, who are at the sheets
+below; and, like a wise and considerate captain,
+she pretends not to notice Master Fred, who is
+having a quiet smoke by the windlass.  And
+so, past those lonely shores sails the brave
+vessel—the yawl </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, Captain Mary
+Avon, bound for anywhere.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But you must not imagine that the new
+skipper is allowed to stand by the tiller.
+Captain though she may be, she has to submit
+civilly to dictation, in so far as her foot is
+concerned, Our young Doctor has compelled her
+to be seated, and he has passed a rope round
+the tiller that so she can steer from her chair,
+and from time to time he gives suggestions,
+which she receives as orders.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I had been with you when you first
+sprained your foot," he says.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes?" she answers, with humble inquiry in
+her eyes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I would have put it in plaster of Paris," he
+says, in a matter-of-fact way, "and locked you
+up in the house for a fortnight; at the end of
+that time you would not know which ankle was
+the sprained one."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was neither "with your leave" nor
+"by your leave" in this young man's manner
+when he spoke of that accident.  He would
+have taken possession of her.  He would have
+discarded your bandages and hartshorn, and
+what not; when it was Mary Avon's foot that
+was concerned—it was intimated to us—he would
+have had his own way in spite of all comers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I had known," she says, timidly,
+meaning that it was the treatment she wished
+she had known.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a more heroic remedy," said he,
+with a smile; "and that is walking the sprain
+off.  I believe that can be done, but most
+people would shrink from the pain.  Of course,
+if it were done at all, it would be done by a
+woman; women can bear pain infinitely better
+than men."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do you think so!" she says, in mild
+protest.  "Oh, I am sure not.  Men are so much
+braver than women, so much stronger——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But this gentle quarrel is suddenly stopped,
+for some one calls attention to a deer that is
+calmly browsing on one of the high slopes
+above that rocky shore, and instantly all glasses
+are in request.  It is a hind, with a beautifully
+shaped head and slender legs; she takes no
+notice of the passing craft, but continues her
+feeding, walking a few steps onward from time
+to time.  In this way she reaches the edge of a
+gully in the rugged cliffs where there is some
+brushwood, and probably a stream; into this
+she sedately descends, and we see her no more.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then there is another cry; what is this
+cloud ahead, or waterspout resting on the
+calm bosom of the sea?  Glasses again in
+request, amid many exclamations, reveal to
+us that this is a dense cloud of birds; a flock
+so vast that towards the water it seems black;
+can it be the dead body of a whale that has
+collected this world of wings from all the
+Northern seas?  Hurry on, </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>; for
+the floating cloud with the black base is moving
+and seething—in fantastic white fumes, as it
+were—in the loveliness of this summer day.
+And now, as we draw nearer, we can descry
+that there is no dead body of a whale causing
+that blackness; but only the density of the
+mass of seafowl.  And nearer and nearer as
+we draw, behold! the great gannets swooping
+down in such numbers that the sea is covered
+with a mist of waterspouts; and the air is
+filled with innumerable cries; and we do not
+know what to make of this bewildering, fluttering,
+swimming, screaming mass of terns, guillemots,
+skarts, kittiwakes, razorbills, puffins, and
+gulls.  But they draw away again.  The
+herring-shoal is moving northward.  The
+murmur of cries becomes more remote, and
+the seething cloud of the sea-birds is slowly
+dispersing.  When the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> sails up
+to the spot at which this phenomenon was
+first seen, there is nothing visible but a
+scattered assemblage of guillemots—</span><em class="italics">kurroo! kurroo!</em><span>
+answered by </span><em class="italics">pe-yoo-it! pe-yoo-it!</em><span>—and
+great gannets—"as big as a sheep," says
+John of Skye—apparently so gorged that they
+lie on the water within stone's-throw of the
+yacht, before spreading out their long,
+snow-white, black-tipped wings to bear them away
+over the sea.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And now, as we are altering our course to
+the west—far away to our right stand the vast
+Coolins of Skye—we sail along the northern
+shores of Rum.  There is no trace of any
+habitation visible; nothing but the precipitous
+cliffs, and the sandy bays, and the outstanding
+rocks dotted with rows of shining black skarts.
+When Mary Avon asks why those sandy bays
+should be so red, and why a certain ruddy
+warmth of colour should shine through even
+the patches of grass, our F.R.S. begins to
+speak of powdered basalt rubbed down from
+the rocks above.  He would have her begin
+another sketch, but she is too proud of her
+newly acquired knowledge to forsake the tiller.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The wind is now almost dead aft, and we
+have a good deal of gybing.  Other people
+might think that all this gybing was an evidence
+of bad steering on the part of our new skipper;
+but Angus Sutherland—and we cannot
+contradict an F.R.S.—assures Miss Avon that
+she is doing remarkably well; and, as he
+stands by to lay hold of the main sheet when
+the boom swings over, we are not in much
+danger of carrying away either port or
+starboard davits.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know," says he lightly, "I
+sometimes think I ought to apply for the post of
+surgeon on board a man-of-war?  That would
+just suit me——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I hope you will not," she blurts out
+quite inadvertently; and thereafter there is
+a deep blush on her face.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I should enjoy it immensely, I know,"
+says he, wholly ignorant of her embarrassment,
+because he is keeping an eye on the sails.
+"I believe I should have more pleasure in
+life that way than any other——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But you do not live for your own pleasure,"
+says she hastily, perhaps to cover her confusion.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no one else to live for, any way,"
+says he, with a laugh; and then he corrected
+himself.  "Oh, yes, I have.  My father is a
+sad heretic.  He has fallen away from the
+standards of his faith; he has set up
+idols—the diplomas and medals I have got from
+time to time.  He has them all arranged in
+his study, and I have heard that he positively
+sits down before them and worships them.
+When I sent him the medal from Vienna—it
+was only bronze—he returned to me his
+Greek Testament, that he had interleaved and
+annotated when he was a student; I believe
+it was his greatest possession."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And you would give up all that he expects
+from you to go away and be a doctor on board
+a ship!" says Mary Avon, with some proud
+emphasis.  "That would not be my ambition
+if I were a man, and—and—if I had—if——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Well, she could not quite say to Brose's face
+what she thought of his powers and prospects;
+so she suddenly broke away and said—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; you would go and do that for your
+own amusement?  And what would the
+amusement be?  Do you think they would let the
+doctor interfere with the sailing of the ship?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said he, laughing, "that is a
+practical objection.  I don't suppose the
+captain of a man-of-war or even of a merchant
+vessel would be as accommodating as your
+John of Skye.  Captain John has his
+compensation when he is relieved; he can go
+forward, and light his pipe."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I think for </span><em class="italics">your father's sake</em><span>," says
+Miss Avon, with decision, "you had better
+put that idea out of your head, once and
+for all."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Now blow, breezes, blow!  What is the
+great headland that appears, striking out into
+the wide Atlantic?</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ahead she goes! the land she knows!</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Behold! the snowy shores of Canna!</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Tom Galbraith," the Laird is saying
+solemnly to his hostess, "has assured me that
+Rum is the most picturesque island on the
+whole of the western coast of Scotland.  That
+is his deleeberate opinion.  And indeed I would
+not go so far as to say he was wrong.  Arran!
+They talk about Arran!  Just look at those
+splendid mountains coming sheer down to the
+sea; and the light of the sun on them!  Eh
+me, what a sunset there will be this night!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Canna?" says Dr. Sutherland, to his
+interlocutor, who seems very anxious to be
+instructed.  "Oh, I don't know.  </span><em class="italics">Canna</em><span> in
+Gaelic is simply a can; but then </span><em class="italics">Cana</em><span> is
+a whale; and the island in the distance
+looks long and flat on the water.  Or it
+may be from </span><em class="italics">canach</em><span>—that is, the moss-cotton;
+or from </span><em class="italics">cannach</em><span>—that is, the sweet-gale.
+You see, Miss Avon, ignorant people have
+an ample choice."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Blow! breezes blow! as the yellow light of
+the afternoon shines over the broad Atlantic.
+Here are the eastern shores of Canna, high
+and rugged, and dark with caves; and there
+the western shores of Rum, the mighty
+mountains aglow in the evening light.  And this
+remote and solitary little bay, with its green
+headlands, and its awkward rocks at the mouth,
+and the one house presiding over it amongst
+that shining wilderness of shrubs and flowers?
+Here is fair shelter for the night.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>After dinner, in the lambent twilight, we set
+out with the gig; and there was much preparation
+of elaborate contrivances for the entrapping
+of fish.  But the Laird's occult and intricate
+tackle—the spinning minnows, and spoons, and
+india-rubber sand-eels—proved no competitor
+for the couple of big white flies that Angus
+Sutherland had busked.  And of course Mary
+Avon had that rod; and when some huge
+lithe dragged the end of the rod fairly under
+water, and when she cried aloud, "Oh! oh!
+I can't hold it; he'll break the rod!" then
+arose our Doctor's word of command:—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Haul him in!  Shove out the butt!  No
+scientific playing with a lithe!  Well done!—well
+done!—a five-pounder I'll bet ten farthings!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was not scientific fishing; but we got big
+fish—which is of more importance in the eyes
+of Master Fred.  And then, as the night fell,
+we set out again for the yacht; and the Doctor
+pulled stroke; and he sang some more verses
+of the </span><em class="italics">biorlinn</em><span> song as the blades dashed fire
+into the rushing sea:—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Proudly o'er the waves we'll bound her,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">As the staghound bounds the heather!</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Through the eddying tide we'll guide her,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Round each isle and breezy headland,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>The yellow lamp at the bow of the yacht
+grew larger and larger; the hull of the boat
+looked black between us and the starlit
+heavens; as we clambered on board there
+was a golden glow from the saloon skylight.
+And then, during the long and happy evening,
+amid all the whist-playing and other amusements
+going forward, what about certain timid
+courtesies and an occasional shy glance between
+those two young people?  Some of us began
+to think that if the Laird's scheme was to
+come to anything, it was high time that
+Mr. Howard Smith put in an appearance.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="a-wild-studio"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A WILD STUDIO.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>There is a fine bustle of preparation next
+morning—for the gig is waiting by the side
+of the yacht; and Dr. Sutherland is carefully
+getting our artist's materials into the stern;
+and the Laird is busy with shawls and
+waterproofs; and Master Fred brings along the
+luncheon-basket.  Our Admiral-in-chief prefers
+to stay on board; she has letters to write;
+there are enough of us to go and be tossed
+on the Atlantic swell off the great caves of
+Canna.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And as the men strike their oars in the
+water and we wave a last adieu, the Laird
+catches a glimpse of our larder at the stern of
+the yacht.  Alas! there is but one remaining
+piece of fresh meat hanging there, under the
+white canvas.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It reminds me," says he, beginning to laugh
+already, "of a good one that Tom Galbraith
+told me—a real good one that was.  Tom
+had a little bit yacht that his man and himself
+sailed when he was painting, ye know; and
+one day they got into a bay where Duncan—that
+was the man's name—had some friends
+ashore.  Tom left him in charge of the yacht;
+and—and—ha! ha! ha!—there was a leg of
+mutton hanging at the stern.  Well, Tom
+was rowed ashore; and painted all day; and
+came back to the yacht in the afternoon.
+</span><em class="italics">There was no leg of mutton</em><span>!  'Duncan,' says
+he, 'where is the leg of mutton?'  Duncan
+pretended to be vastly surprised.  'Iss it
+away?' says he.  'Away?' says Tom.  'Don't
+you see it is away?  I want to know who
+took it!'  Duncan looked all round him—at
+the sea and the sky—and then says he—then
+says he, 'Maybe it wass a
+dog!'—ha! ha! hee! hee! hee!—'maybe
+it wass a dog,' says
+he; and they were half a mile from the shore!
+I never see the canvas at the stern of a yacht
+without thinking o' Tom Galbraith and the
+leg of mutton;" and here the Laird laughed
+long and loud again.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have heard you speak once or twice
+about Tom Galbraith," remarked our young
+Doctor, without meaning the least sarcasm;
+"he is an artist, I suppose?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird stopped laughing.  There was a
+look of indignant wonder—approaching to
+horror—on his face.  But when he proceeded,
+with some dignity and even resentment, to
+explain to this ignorant person the immense
+importance of the school that Tom Galbraith
+had been chiefly instrumental in forming; and
+the high qualities of that artist's personal
+work; and how the members of the Royal
+Academy shook in their shoes at the mere
+mention of Tom Galbraith's name, he
+became more pacified; for Angus Sutherland
+listened with great respect, and even promised
+to look out for Mr. Galbraith's work if he
+passed through Edinburgh on his way to the
+south.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The long, swinging stroke of the men soon
+took us round the successive headlands until
+we were once more in the open, with the
+mountains of Skye in the north, and, far
+away at the horizon, a pale line which we
+knew to be North Uist.  And now the green
+shores of Canna were becoming more
+precipitous; and there was a roaring of the sea
+along the spurs of black rock; and the long
+Atlantic swell, breaking on the bows of the
+gig, was sending a little more spray over us
+than was at all desirable.  Certainly no one
+who could have seen the Doctor at this
+moment—with his fresh-coloured face dripping with
+the salt water and shining in the sunlight—would
+have taken him for a hard-worked and
+anxious student.  His hard work was pulling
+stroke-oar, and he certainly put his shoulders
+into it, as the Laird had remarked; and his
+sole anxiety was about Mary Avon's
+art-materials.  That young lady shook the water
+from the two blank canvases, and declared
+it did not matter a bit.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>These lonely cliffs!—becoming more grim
+and awful every moment, as this mite of a boat
+still wrestles with the great waves, and makes
+its way along the coast.  And yet there are
+tender greens where the pasturage appears on
+the high plateaus; and there is a soft ruddy
+hue where the basalt shines.  The gloom of
+the picture appears below—in the caves washed
+out of the conglomerate by the heavy seas; in
+the spurs and fantastic pillars and arches of the
+black rock; and in this leaden-hued Atlantic
+springing high over every obstacle to go
+roaring and booming into the caverns.  And these
+innumerable white specks on the sparse green
+plateaus and on this high promontory: can
+they be mushrooms in millions?  Suddenly one
+of the men lifts his oar from the rowlock, and
+rattles it on the gunwale of the gig.  At this
+sound a cloud rises from the black rocks; it
+spreads; the next moment the air is darkened
+over our heads; and almost before we know
+what has happened, this vast multitude of
+puffins has wheeled by us, and wheeled again
+further out to sea—a smoke of birds!  And
+as we watch them, behold! stragglers come
+back—in thousands upon thousands—the air is
+filled with them—some of them swooping so
+near us that we can see the red parrot-like
+beak and the orange-hued web-feet, and then
+again the green shelves of grass and the
+pinnacles of rock become dotted with those
+white specks.  The myriads of birds; the
+black caverns; the arches and spurs of rock;
+the leaden-hued Atlantic bounding and
+springing in white foam: what says Mary Avon to
+that?  Has she the courage?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"If you can put me ashore?" says she.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, we will get you ashore, somehow,"
+Dr. Sutherland answers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But, indeed, the nearer we approach that
+ugly coast the less we like the look of it.
+Again and again we make for what should be
+a sheltered bit; but long before we can get to
+land we can see through the plunging sea great
+masses of yellow, which we know to be the
+barnacled rock; and then ahead we find a shore
+that, in this heavy surf, would make match-wood
+of the gig in three seconds.  Our Doctor,
+however, will not give in.  If he cannot get
+the gig on to any beach or into any creek, he
+will land our artist somehow.  And at last—and
+in spite of the remonstrances of John of
+Skye—he insists on having the boat backed
+in to a projecting mass of conglomerate, all
+yellowed over with small shell-fish, against
+which the sea is beating heavily.  It is an ugly
+landing-place; we can see the yellow rock go
+sheer down in the clear green sea; and the
+surf is spouting up the side in white jets.  But
+if she can watch a high wave, and put her
+foot there—and there—will she not find herself
+directly on a plateau of rock at least twelve
+feet square?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Back her, John!—back her!—" and therewith
+the Doctor, watching his chance, scrambles
+out and up to demonstrate the feasibility of the
+thing.  And the easel is handed out to him;
+and the palette and canvases; and finally
+Mary Avon herself.  Nay, even the Laird will
+adventure, sending on before him the luncheon-basket.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It is a strange studio—this projecting
+shell-crusted rock, surrounded on three sides by the
+sea, and on the fourth by an impassable cliff.
+And the sounds beneath our feet—there must
+be some subterranean passage or cave into
+which the sea roars and booms.  But Angus
+Sutherland rigs up the easel rapidly; and
+arranges the artist's camp-stool; and sets her
+fairly agoing; then he proposes to leave the
+Laird in charge of her.  He and the humble
+chronicler of the adventures of these people
+mean to have some further exploration of this
+wild coast.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But we had hardly gone a quarter of a mile
+or so—it was hard work pulling in this heavy
+sea—when the experienced eye of Sandy from
+Islay saw that something was wrong.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that?" he said, staring.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We turned instantly, and strove to look
+through the mists of spray.  Where we had
+left the Laird and Mary Avon there were now
+visible only two mites, apparently not bigger
+than puffins.  But is not one of the puffins
+gesticulating wildly?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Round with her, John!" the Doctor calls
+out.  "They want us—I'm sure."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And away the gig goes again—plunging into
+the great troughs and then swinging up to the
+giddy crests.  And as we get nearer and
+nearer, what is the meaning of the Laird's
+frantic gestures?  We cannot understand him;
+and it is impossible to hear, for the booming
+of the sea into the caves drowns his voice.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He has lost his hat," says Angus Sutherland;
+and then, the next second, "Where's the easel?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then we understand those wild gestures.
+Pull away, merry men! for has not a squall
+swept the studio of its movables?  And there,
+sure enough, tossing high and low on the
+waves, we descry a variety of things—an easel,
+two canvases, a hat, a veil, and what not.  Up
+with the boat-hook to the bow; and gently
+with those plunges, you eager Hector of
+Moidart!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so sorry," she says (or rather
+shrieks), when her dripping property is
+restored to her.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It was my fault," our Doctor yells; "but
+I will undertake to fasten your easel properly
+this time"—and therewith he fetches a lump
+of rock that might have moored a man-of-war.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We stay and have luncheon in this gusty
+and thunderous studio—though Mary Avon
+will scarcely turn from her canvas.  And there
+is no painting of pink geraniums about this
+young woman's work.  We see already that
+she has got a thorough grip of this cold, hard
+coast (the sun is obscured now, and the various
+hues are more sombre than ever); and,
+though she has not had time as yet to try to
+catch the motion of the rolling sea, she has got
+the colour of it—a leaden-grey, with glints of
+blue and white, and with here and there a
+sudden splash of deep, rich, glassy, bottle green,
+where some wave for a moment catches, just
+as it gets to the shore, a reflection from the
+grass plateaus above.  Very good, Miss Avon;
+very good—but we pretend that we are not
+looking.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then away we go again, to leave the artist
+to her work; and we go as near as possible—the
+high sea will not allow us to enter—the
+vast black caverns; and we watch through the
+clear water for those masses of yellow rock.
+And then the multitudes of white-breasted,
+red-billed birds perched up there—close to the
+small burrows in the scant grass; they jerk
+their heads about in a watchful way just like
+the prairie-dogs at the mouth of their sandy
+habitations on the Colorado plains.  And then
+again a hundred or two of them come swooping
+down from the rocky pinnacles and sail over
+our heads—twinkling bits of colour between
+the grey-green sea and the blue-and-white of
+the sky.  They resent the presence of strangers
+in this far-home of the sea-birds.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It is a terrible business getting that young
+lady and her paraphernalia back into the gig
+again; for the sea is still heavy, and, of course,
+additional care has now to be taken of the
+precious canvas.  But at last she, and the
+Laird, and the luncheon-basket, and everything
+else have been got on board; and away we go
+for the yacht again, in the now clearing
+afternoon.  As we draw further away from the roar
+of the caves, it is more feasible to talk; and
+naturally we are all very complimentary about
+Mary Avon's sketch in oils.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay," says the Laird, "and it wants but
+one thing; and I am sure I could get Tom
+Galbraith to put that in for you.  A bit of a
+yacht, ye know, or other sailing vessel, put
+below the cliffs, would give people a notion of
+the height of the cliffs, do ye see?  I am
+sure I could get Tom Galbraith to put that
+in for ye."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope Miss Avon won't let Tom Galbraith
+or anybody else meddle with the picture."
+says Angus Sutherland, with some emphasis.
+"Why, a yacht!  Do you think anybody
+would let a yacht come close to rocks like
+these!  As soon as you introduce any making-up
+like that, the picture is a sham.  It is the
+real thing now, as it stands.  Twenty years
+hence you could take up that piece of canvas,
+and there before you would be the very day
+that you spent here—it would be like finding
+your old life of twenty years before opened up
+to you with a lightning-flash.  The picture is—why
+I should say it is invaluable, as it stands."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At this somewhat fierce praise, Mary Avon
+colours a little.  And then she says with a
+gentle hypocrisy—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do you really think there is—there
+is—some likeness to the place?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the place itself!" says he warmly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Because," she says, timidly, and yet with
+a smile, "one likes to have one's work
+appreciated, however stupid it may be.  And—and—if
+you think that—would you like to have
+it?  Because I should be so proud if you would
+take it—only I am ashamed to offer my
+sketches to anybody——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That!" said he, staring at the canvas as
+if the mines of Golconda were suddenly opened
+to him.  But then he drew back.  "Oh, no,"
+he said; "you are very kind—but—but, you
+know, I cannot.  You would think I had been
+asking for it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," says Miss Avon, still looking down,
+"I never was treated like this before.  You
+won't take it?  You don't think it is worth
+putting in your portmanteau?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At this the young Doctor's face grew very
+red; but he said boldly—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, now, if you have been playing
+fast and loose, you shall be punished.  I </span><em class="italics">will</em><span>
+take the picture, whether you grudge it me or
+not.  And I don't mean to give it up now."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said she, very gently, "if it reminds
+you of the place, I shall be very pleased—and—and
+it may remind you too that I am not
+likely to forget your kindness to poor Mrs. Thompson."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And so this little matter was amicably
+settled—though the Laird looked with a covetous
+eye on that rough sketch of the rocks of Canna,
+and regretted that he was not to be allowed to
+ask Tom Galbraith to put in a touch or two.
+And so back to the yacht, and to dinner in the
+silver clear evening; and how beautiful looked
+this calm bay of Canna, with its glittering
+waters and green shores, after the grim rocks
+and the heavy Atlantic waves!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>That evening we pursued the innocent lithe
+again—our larder was becoming terribly
+empty—and there was a fine take.  But of more
+interest to some of us than the big fish was
+the extraordinary wonder of colour in sea and
+sky when the sun had gone down; and there
+was a wail on the part of the Laird that Mary
+Avon had not her colours with her to put down
+some jotting for further use.  Or if on paper:
+might not she write down something of what
+she saw; and experiment thereafter?  Well,
+if any artist can make head or tail of words in
+such a case as this, here they are for him—as
+near as our combined forces of observation
+could go.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The vast plain of water around us a blaze of
+salmon-red—with the waves (catching the
+reflection of the zenith) marked in horizontal
+lines of blue.  The great headland of Canna,
+between us and the western sky, a mass of
+dark, intense olive-green.  The sky over that
+a pale, clear lemon-yellow.  But the great
+feature of this evening scene was a mass of
+cloud that stretched all across the heavens—a
+mass of flaming, thunderous, orange-red cloud
+that began in the far pale mists in the east,
+and came across the blue zenith overhead,
+burning with a splendid glory there, and then
+stretched over to the west, where it narrowed
+down and was lost in the calm, clear gold of
+the horizon.  The splendour of this great
+cloud was bewildering to the eyes; one turned
+gratefully to the reflection of it in the sultry
+red of the sea below, broken by the blue lines
+of waves.  Our attention was not wholly
+given to the fishing or the boat on this lambent
+evening; perhaps that was the reason we ran
+on a rock, and with difficulty got off again.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then back to the yacht again about eleven
+o'clock.  What is this terrible news from
+Master Fred, who was sent off with instructions
+to hunt up any stray crofter he might
+find, and use such persuasions in the shape of
+Gaelic friendliness and English money as would
+enable us to replenish our larder?  What! that
+he had walked two miles and seen nothing
+eatable or purchasable but an old hen?  Canna
+is a beautiful place; but we begin to think
+it is time to be off.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>On this still night, with the stars coming
+out, we cannot go below.  We sit on deck and
+listen to the musical whisper along the shore,
+and watch one golden-yellow planet rising over
+the dusky peaks of Rum, far in the east.  And
+our young Doctor is talking of the pathetic
+notices that are common in the Scotch papers—in
+the advertisements of deaths.  "</span><em class="italics">New
+Zealand papers, please copy.</em><span>"  "</span><em class="italics">Canadian papers,
+please copy.</em><span>"  When you see this prayer
+appended to the announcement of the death of
+some old woman of seventy or seventy-five,
+do you not know that it is a message to loved
+ones in distant climes, wanderers who may
+forget but who have not been forgotten?
+They are messages that tell of a scattered
+race—of a race that once filled the glens of
+these now almost deserted islands.  And surely,
+when some birthday or other time of recollection
+comes round, those far away,</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe,</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>must surely bethink themselves of the old
+people left behind—living in Glasgow or
+Greenock now, perhaps—and must bethink
+themselves too of the land where last they
+saw the bonny red heather, and where last
+they heard the pipes playing the sad </span><em class="italics">Farewell,
+MacCruimin</em><span> as the ship stood out to sea.
+They cannot quite forget the scenes of their
+youth—the rough seas and the red heather
+and the islands; the wild dancing at the
+weddings; the secret meetings in the glen, with
+Ailasa, or Morag, or Mairi, come down from the
+sheiling, all alone, a shawl round her head to
+shelter her from the rain, her heart fluttering
+like the heart of a timid fawn.  They cannot
+forget.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And we, too, we are going away; and it
+may be that we shall never see this beautiful
+bay or the island there again.  But one of
+us carries away with him a talisman for the
+sudden revival of old memories.  And twenty
+years hence—that was his own phrase—what
+will Angus Sutherland—perhaps a very great
+and rich person by that time—what will he
+think when he turns to a certain picture, and
+recalls the long summer day when he rowed
+with Mary Avon round the wild shores of Canna?</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="dunvegan-oh-dunvegan"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"DUNVEGAN!—OH!  DUNVEGAN!"</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Commander Mary Avon sends her orders
+below: everything to be made snug in the
+cabins, for there is a heavy sea running
+outside, and the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> is already under way.
+Farewell, then, you beautiful blue bay—all
+rippled into silver now with the breeze—and
+green shores and picturesque cliffs!  We should
+have lingered here another day or two,
+perhaps, but for the report about that one old
+hen.  We cannot ration passengers and crew
+on one old hen.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And here, as we draw away from Canna, is
+the vast panorama of the sea-world around us
+once more—the mighty mountain range of
+Skye shining faintly in the northern skies;
+Haleval and Haskeval still of a gloomy purple
+in the east; and away beyond these leagues of
+rushing Atlantic the clear blue line of North
+Uist.  Whither are we bound, then, you small
+captain with the pale face and the big, soft,
+tender black eyes?  Do you fear a shower of
+spray that you have strapped that tightly-fitting
+ulster round the graceful small figure?  And
+are you quite sure that you know whether the
+wind is on the port or starboard beam?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Look! look! look!" she calls, and our
+F.R.S., who has been busy over the charts,
+jumps to his feet.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Just at the bow of the vessel we see the
+great shining black thing disappear.  What if
+there had been a collision?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You cannot call </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> a porpoise, any way,"
+says she.  "Why, it must have been eighty
+feet long!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yacht measurement," says he.  "But
+it had a back fin, which is suspicious, and it
+did not blow.  Now," he adds—for we have
+been looking all round for the re-appearance
+of the huge stranger—"if you want to see
+real whales at work, just look over there, close
+under Rum.  I should say there was a whole
+shoal of them in the Sound."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And there, sure enough, we see from time to
+time the white spoutings—rising high into the
+air in the form of the letter V, and slowly
+falling again.  They are too far away for us
+to hear the sound of their blowing, nor can we
+catch any glimpse, through the best of our
+glasses, of their appearance at the surface.
+Moreover, the solitary stranger that nearly
+ran against our bows makes no reappearance;
+he has had enough of the wonders of the
+upper world for a time.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It is a fine sailing morning, and we pay but
+little attention to the fact that the wind, as
+usual, soon gets to be dead ahead.  So long
+as the breeze blows, and the sun shines, and
+the white spray flies from the bows of the
+</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, what care we which harbour is
+to shelter us for the night?  And if we cannot
+get into any harbour, what then?  We carry
+our own kingdom with us; and we are far from
+being dependent on the one old hen.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But in the midst of much laughing at one
+of the Laird's good ones—the inexhaustible
+Homesh was again to the fore—a head appears
+at the top of the companion-way; and there is
+a respectful silence.  Unseemly mirth dies away
+before the awful dignity of this person.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Angus," she says, with a serious remonstrance
+on her face, "do you believe what
+scientific people tell you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Angus Sutherland starts, and looks up; he
+has been deep in a chart of Loch Bracadaile.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't they say that water finds its own
+level?  Now do you call this water finding
+its own level?"—and as she propounds this
+conundrum, she clings on tightly to the side
+of the companion, for, in truth, the </span><em class="italics">White
+Dove</em><span> is curveting a good deal among those
+great masses of waves.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Another tumbler broken!" she exclaims.
+"Now who left that tumbler on the table?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," says Mary Avon.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was it then?" says the occupant of
+the companion-way; and we begin to tremble
+for the culprit.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you yourself!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mary Avon, how can you tell such a
+story!" says the other, with a stern face.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but that is so," calls out our Doctor,
+"for I myself saw you bring the tumbler out
+of the ladies' cabin with water for the flowers."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The universal shout of laughter that
+overwhelms Madame Dignity is too much for her.
+A certain conscious, lurking smile begins to
+break through the sternness of her face.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't believe a word of it," she declares,
+firing a shot as she retreats.  "Not a word
+of it.  You are two conspirators.  To tell such
+a story about a tumbler—-!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But at this moment a further assault is made
+on the majesty of this imperious small
+personage.  There is a thunder at the bows; a
+rattling as of pistol-shots on the decks forward;
+and at the same moment the fag-ends of the
+spray come flying over the after part of the
+yacht.  What becomes of one's dignity when
+one gets a shower of salt water over one's head
+and neck?  Go down below, madam!—retreat,
+retreat, discomfited!—go, dry your face and
+your bonny brown hair—and bother us no
+more with your broken tumbler!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And despite those plunging seas and the
+occasional showers of spray, Mary Avon still
+clings bravely to the rope that is round the
+tiller; and as we are bearing over for Skye on
+one long tack, she has no need to change her
+position.  And if from time to time her face
+gets wet with the salt water, is it not quickly
+dried again in the warm sun and the breeze?
+Sun and salt water and sea-air will soon chase
+away the pallor from that gentle face: cannot
+one observe already—after only a few days'
+sailing—a touch of sun-brown on her cheeks?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And now we are drawing nearer and nearer
+to Skye, and before us lies the lonely Loch
+Breatal, just under the splendid Coolins.  See
+how the vast slopes of the mountains appear
+to come sheer down to the lake; and there is a
+soft, sunny green on them—a beautiful, tender,
+warm colour that befits a summer day.  But far
+above and beyond those sunny slopes a
+different sight appears.  All the clouds of this
+fair day have gathered round the upper
+portions of the mountains; and that solitary range
+of black and jagged peaks is dark in shadow,
+dark as if with the expectation of thunder.  The
+Coolins are not beloved of mariners.  Those
+beautiful sunlit ravines are the secret haunts
+of hurricanes that suddenly come out to strike
+the unwary yachtsman as with the blow of
+a hammer.  </span><em class="italics">Stand by, forward, then, lads!
+About ship!  Down with the helm, Captain
+Avon!</em><span>—and behold! we are sailing away
+from the black Coolins, and ahead of us there
+is only the open sea, and the sunlight shining
+on the far cliffs of Canna.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"When your course is due north," remarks
+Angus Sutherland, who has relieved Mary Avon
+at the helm, "and when the wind is due north,
+you get a good deal of sailing for your money."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The profound truth of this remark becomes
+more and more apparent as the day passes
+in a series of long tacks which do not seem to
+be bringing those far headlands of Skye much
+nearer to us.  And if we are beating in this
+heavy sea all day and night, is there not a
+chance of one or other of our women-folk
+collapsing?  They are excellent sailors, to be
+sure—but—but—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Sutherland is consulted.  Dr. Sutherland's
+advice is prompt and emphatic.  His
+sole and only precaution against sea-sickness
+is simple: resolute eating and drinking.  Cure
+for sea-sickness, after it has set in, he declares
+there is none: to prevent it, eat and drink,
+and let the drink be </span><em class="italics">brut</em><span> champagne.  So our
+two prisoners are ordered below to undergo
+that punishment.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And, perhaps, it is the </span><em class="italics">brut</em><span> champagne, or
+perhaps it is merely the snugness of our little
+luncheon-party that prompts Miss Avon to
+remark on the exceeding selfishness of yachting
+and to suggest a proposal that fairly takes away
+our breath by its audacity.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now," she says, cheerfully, "I could tell
+you how you could occupy an idle day on
+board a yacht so that you would give a great
+deal of happiness—quite a shock of delight—to
+a large number of people."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Well, we are all attention.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"At what cost?" says the financier of our party.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"At no cost."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This is still more promising.  Why should
+not we instantly set about making all those
+people happy?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"All that you have got to do is to get a copy of
+the </span><em class="italics">Field</em><span> or of the </span><em class="italics">Times</em><span> or some such paper."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Yes; and how are we to get any such thing?
+Rum has no post-office.  No mail calls at
+Canna.  Newspapers do not grow on the rocks
+of Loch Bracadaile.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"However, let us suppose that we have the paper."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well.  All you have to do is to
+sit down and take the advertisements, and
+write to the people, accepting all their
+offers on their own terms.  The man who
+wants 500*l.* for his shooting in the autumn;
+the man who will sell his steam-yacht for
+7,000*l,*; the curate who will take in another
+youth to board at 200*l.* a year; the lady who
+wants to let her country-house during the
+London season; all the people who are anxious
+to sell things.  You offer to take them all.  If a
+man has a yacht to let on hire, you will pay for
+new jerseys for the men.  If a man has a house
+to be let, you will take all the fixtures at his
+own valuation.  All you have to do is to write
+two or three hundred letters—as an anonymous
+person, of course—and you make two or three
+hundred people quite delighted for perhaps a
+whole week!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird stared at this young lady as if she
+had gone mad; but there was only a look of
+complacent friendliness on Mary Avon's face.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean that you write sham letters?"
+says her hostess.  "You gull those unfortunate
+people into believing that all their wishes are
+realised?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But you make them happy!" says Mary
+Avon, confidently.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—and the disappointment afterwards!"
+retorts her friend, almost with indignation.
+"Imagine their disappointment when they find
+they have been duped!  Of course they would
+write letters and discover that the anonymous
+person had no existence."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no!" says Mary Avon, eagerly.
+"There could be no such great disappointment.
+The happiness would be definite and real for
+the time.  The disappointment would only be
+a slow and gradual thing when they found no
+answer coming to their letter.  You would
+make them happy for a whole week or so by
+accepting their offer; whereas by not answering
+their letter or letters you would only puzzle
+them, and the matter would drop away into
+forgetfulness.  Do you not think it would be
+an excellent scheme?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Come on deck, you people; this girl has got
+demented.  And behold! as we emerge once
+more into the sunlight and whirling spray and
+wind, we find that we are nearing Skye again
+on the port tack, and now it is the mouth of
+Loch Bracadaile that we are approaching.  And
+these pillars of rock, outstanding from the cliffs,
+and worn by the northern seas?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, these must be Macleod's Maidens!"
+says Angus Sutherland, unrolling one of the
+charts.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And then he discourses to us of the curious
+fancies of sailors—passing the lonely coasts
+from year to year—and recognising as old
+friends, not any living thing, but the strange
+conformations of the rocks—and giving to these
+the names of persons and of animals.  And he
+thinks there is something more weird and
+striking about these solitary and sea-worn rocks
+fronting the great Atlantic than about any
+comparatively modern Sphinx or Pyramid; until
+we regard the sunlit pillars, and their fretted
+surface and their sharp shadows, with a sort of
+morbid imagination; and we discover how the
+sailors have fancied them to be stone women;
+and we see in the largest of them—her head
+and shoulder tilted over a bit—some resemblance
+to the position of the Venus discovered
+at Milo.  All this is very fine; but suddenly the
+sea gets darkened over there; a squall comes
+roaring out of Loch Bracadaile; John of Skye
+orders the boat about; and presently we are
+running free before this puff from the
+north-east.  Alas! alas! we have no sooner got
+out of the reach of the squall than the wind
+backs to the familiar north, and our laborious
+beating has to be continued as before.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But we are not discontented.  Is it not
+enough, as the golden and glowing afternoon
+wears on, to listen to the innocent prattle of
+Denny-mains, whose mind has been fired by
+the sight of those pillars of rock.  He tells
+us a great many remarkable things—about
+the similarity between Gaelic and Irish, and
+between Welsh and Armorican; and he discusses
+the use of the Druidical stones, as to
+whether the priests followed serpent-worship
+or devoted those circles to human sacrifice.
+He tells us about the Picts and Scots; about
+Fingal and Ossian; about the doings of Arthur
+in his kingdom of Strathclyde.  It is a most
+innocent sort of prattle.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir," says our Doctor—quite gravely—though
+we are not quite sure that he is not
+making fun of our simple-hearted Laird, "there
+can be no doubt that the Aryan race that first
+swept over Europe spoke a Celtic language,
+more or less akin to Gaelic, and that they were
+pushed out, by successive waves of population,
+into Brittany, and Wales, and Ireland, and the
+Highlands.  And I often wonder whether it
+was they themselves that modestly call themselves
+the foreigners or strangers, and affixed
+that name to the land they laid hold of, from
+Galicia and Gaul to Galloway and Galway?
+The Gaelic word </span><em class="italics">gall</em><span>, a stranger, you find
+everywhere.  Fingal himself is only </span><em class="italics">Fionn-gall</em><span>—the
+Fair Stranger; </span><em class="italics">Dubh-gall</em><span>—that is, the
+familiar Dugald—or the Black Stranger—is
+what the Islay people call a Lowlander.
+</span><em class="italics">Ru-na-Gaul</em><span>, that we passed the other day—that
+is the Foreigner's Point.  I think there
+can be no doubt that the tribes that first
+brought Aryan civilisation through the west
+of Europe spoke Gaelic or something like
+Gaelic."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay," said the Laird, doubtfully.  He was
+not sure of this young man.  He had heard
+something about Gaelic being spoken in the
+Garden of Eden, and suspected there might be
+a joke lying about somewhere.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>However, there was no joking about our
+F.R.S. when he began to tell Mary Avon how,
+if he had time and sufficient interest in such
+things, he would set to work to study the
+Basque people and their language—that
+strange remnant of the old race who inhabited
+the west of Europe long before Scot, or Briton,
+or Roman, or Teuton had made his appearance
+on the scene.  Might they not have traditions,
+or customs, or verbal survivals to tell us of
+their pre-historic forefathers?  The Laird
+seemed quite shocked to hear that his favourite
+Picts and Scots—and Fingal and Arthur and
+all the rest of them—were mere modern
+interlopers.  What of the mysterious race that
+occupied these islands before the great Aryan
+tide swept over from the East?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Well, this was bad enough; but when the
+Doctor proceeded to declare his conviction that
+no one had the least foundation for the various
+conjectures about the purposes of those so-called
+Druidical stones—that it was all a matter
+of guess-work whether as regarded council-halls,
+grave-stones, altars, or serpent-worship—and
+that it was quite possible these stones were
+erected by the non-Aryan race who inhabited
+Europe before either Gaul or Roman or
+Teuton came west, the Laird interrupted him,
+triumphantly—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But," says he, "the very names of those
+stones show they are of Celtic origin—will ye
+dispute that?  What is the meaning of </span><em class="italics">Carnac</em><span>,
+that is in Brittany—eh?  Ye know Gaelic?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I know that much," said Angus,
+laughing.  "Carnac means simply the place of
+piled stones.  But the Celts may have found
+the stones there, and given them that name."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I think," says Miss Avon, profoundly,
+"that when you go into a question of names,
+you can prove anything.  And I suppose
+Gaelic is as accommodating as any other
+language."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Angus Sutherland did not answer for a
+moment; but at last he said, rather shyly—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Gaelic is a very complimentary language,
+at all events.  Beau is 'a woman;' and
+bean-nachd is 'a blessing.'  </span><em class="italics">An ti a bheannaich
+thu</em><span>—that is, 'the one who blessed you.'"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Very pretty; only we did not know how
+wildly the young man might not be falsifying
+Gaelic grammar in order to say something nice
+to Mary Avon.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Patience works wonders.  Dinner-time finds
+us so far across the Minch that we can make
+out the lighthouse of South Uist.  And all
+these outer Hebrides are now lying in a flood
+of golden-red light; and on the cliffs of Canna,
+far away in the south-east, and now dwarfed so
+that they lie like a low wall on the sea, there is
+a paler red, caught from the glare of the sunset.
+And here is the silver tinkle of Master Fred's bell.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>On deck after dinner; and the night air is
+cooler now; and there are cigars about; and
+our young F.R.S. is at the tiller; and Mary
+Avon is singing, apparently to herself,
+something about a Berkshire farmer's daughter.
+The darkness deepens, and the stars come out;
+and there is one star—larger than the rest, and
+low down, and burning a steady red—that we
+know to be Ushinish lighthouse.  And then
+from time to time the silence is broken by,
+"</span><em class="italics">Stand by, forrard!  'Bout ship!</em><span>" and there
+is a rattling of blocks and cordage and then the
+head-sails fill and away she goes again on the
+other tack.  We have got up to the long
+headlands of Skye at last.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Clear as the night is, the wind still comes in
+squalls, and we have the topsail down.  Into
+which indentation of that long, low line of dark
+land shall we creep in the darkness?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But John of Skye keeps away from the land.
+It is past midnight.  There is nothing visible
+but the black sea and the clear sky, and the
+red star of the lighthouse; nothing audible but
+Mary Avon's humming to herself and her
+friend—the two women sit arm-in-arm under
+half-a-dozen of rugs—some old-world ballad
+to the monotonous accompaniment of the
+passing seas.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>One o'clock: Ushinish light is smaller now,
+a minute point of red fire, and the black line of
+land on our right looms larger in the dusk.
+Look at the splendour of the phosphorous-stars
+on the rushing waves.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And at last John of Skye says in an
+undertone to Angus—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Will the leddies be going below now?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Going below!" he says in reply.  "They
+are waiting till we get to anchor.  We must be
+just off Dunvegan Loch now."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then John of Skye makes his confession.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes; I been into Dunvegan Loch more
+as two or three times; but I not like the dark
+to be with us in going in; and if we lie off till
+the daylight comes, the leddies they can go
+below to their peds.  And if Dr. Sutherland
+himself would like to see the channel in
+going in, will I send below when the daylight
+comes?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, John; thank you," is the answer.
+"When I turn in, I turn in for good.  I will
+leave you to find out the channel for yourself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And so there is a clearance of the deck, and
+rugs and camp-stools handed down the
+companion.  </span><em class="italics">Deoch-an-doruis</em><span> in the candle-lit
+saloon?  To bed—to bed!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It is about five o'clock in the morning that
+the swinging out of the anchor-chain causes the
+yacht to tremble from stem to stern; and the
+sleepers start in their sleep, but are vaguely
+aware that they are at a safe anchorage at last.
+And do you know where the brave </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>
+is lying now?  Surely if the new dawn brings
+any stirring of wind—and if there is a sound
+coming over to us from this far land of legend
+and romance—it is the wild, sad wail of
+Dunvegan!  The mists are clearing from the hills;
+the day breaks wan and fair; the great grey
+castle, touched by the early sunlight, looks
+down on the murmuring sea.  And is it the
+sea, or is it the cold wind of the morning, that
+sings and sings to us in our dreams—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Dunvegan—oh!  Dunvegan!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="drawing-nearer"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">DRAWING NEARER.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>She is all alone on deck.  The morning
+sun shines on the beautiful blue bay; on
+the great castle perched on the rocks over
+there; and on the wooded green hills beyond.
+She has got a canvas fixed on her easel; she
+sings to herself as she works.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Now this English young lady must have
+beguiled the tedium of her long nursing in
+Edinburgh by making a particular acquaintance
+with Scotch ballads; or how otherwise could
+we account for her knowledge of the "Song of
+Ulva," and now of the "Song of Dunvegan?"</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Macleod the faithful, and fearing none!</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Dunvegan—oh!  Dunvegan!</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>—she hums to herself as she is busy with this
+rough sketch of sea and shore.  How can she
+be aware that Angus Sutherland is at this
+very moment in the companion way, and not
+daring to stir hand or foot lest he should
+disturb her?</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Friends and foes had our passion thwarted,</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>she croons to herself, though, indeed, there is
+no despair at all in her voice, but a perfect
+contentment—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">But true, tender, and lion-hearted,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Lived he on, and from life departed,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Macleod, whose rival is breathing none!</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Dunvegan—oh, Dunvegan!</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>She is pleased with the rapidity of her work.
+She tries to whistle a little bit.  Or, perhaps
+it is only the fresh morning air that has put
+her in such good spirits?</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Yestreen the Queen had four Maries.</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>What has that got to do with the sketch of
+the shining grey castle?  Among these tags
+and ends of ballads, the young Doctor at last
+becomes emboldened to put in an appearance.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, Miss Avon," says he; "you
+are busy at work again?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>She is not in the least surprised.  She has
+got accustomed to his coming on deck before
+the others; they have had a good deal of quiet
+chatting while as yet the Laird was only adjusting
+his high white collar and satin neckcloth.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is only a sketch," said she, in a rapid
+and highly business-like fashion, "but I think
+I shall be able to sell it.  You know most
+people merely value pictures for their
+association with things they are interested in
+themselves.  A Yorkshire farmer would rather have
+a picture of his favourite cob than any Raphael
+or Titian.  And the ordinary English squire:
+I am sure that you know in his own heart he
+prefers one of Herring's farm yard pieces to
+Leonardo's </span><em class="italics">Last Supper</em><span>.  Well, if some
+yachting gentleman, who has been in this loch,
+should see this sketch, he will probably buy it,
+however bad it is, just because it interests
+him——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But you don't really mean to sell it?" said he.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That depends," said she demurely, "on
+whether I get any offer for it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," he exclaimed, "the series of pictures
+you are now making should be an invaluable
+treasure to you all your life long: a permanent
+record of a voyage that you seem to enjoy
+very much.  I almost shrink from robbing you
+of that one of Canna; still, the temptation is
+too great.  And you propose to sell them all?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What I can sell of them," she says; and
+then she adds, rather shyly, "You know I
+could not very well afford to keep them all
+for myself.  I—I have a good many almoners
+in London; and I devote to them what I can
+get for my scrawls—that is, I deduct the cost
+of the frames, and keep the rest for them.  It
+is not a large sum."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Any other woman would spend it in jewellery
+and dresses," says he bluntly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At this, Miss Mary Avon flushes slightly,
+and hastily draws his attention to a small boat
+that is approaching.  Dr. Sutherland does not
+pay any heed to the boat.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He is silent for a second or so; and then
+he says, with an effort to talk in a cheerful
+and matter-of-fact way—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You have not sent ashore yet this morning:
+don't you know there is a post-office at
+Dunvegan?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes; I heard so.  But the men are
+below at breakfast, I think, and I am in no
+hurry to send, for there won't be any letters
+for me, I know."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, indeed," he says, with seeming carelessness,
+"it must be a long time since you
+have heard from your friends."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not many friends to hear from," she
+answers, with a light laugh, "and those I have
+don't trouble me with many letters.  I
+suppose they think I am in very good hands at
+present."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes—no doubt," says he, and suddenly
+he begins to talk in warm terms of the
+delightfulness of the voyage.  He is quite charmed
+with the appearance of Dunvegan Loch and
+castle.  A more beautiful morning he never
+saw.  And in the midst of all this enthusiasm
+the small boat comes alongside.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There is an old man in the boat, and when
+he has fastened his oars, he says a few words
+to Angus Sutherland, and hands up a big black
+bottle.  Our young Doctor brings the bottle
+over to Mary Avon.  He seems to be very
+much pleased with everything this morning.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, is not that good-natured?" says he.
+"It is a bottle of fresh milk, with the
+compliments of ——, of Uginish.  Isn't it
+good-natured?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, indeed it is," says she, plunging her
+hand into her pocket.  "You must let me give
+the messenger half-a-crown."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no; that is not the Highland custom,"
+says the Doctor; and therewith he goes below,
+and fetches up another black bottle, and pours
+out a glass of whiskey with his own hand, and
+presents it to the ancient boatman.  You
+should have seen the look of surprise in the
+old man's face when Angus Sutherland said
+something to him in the Gaelic.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And alas! and alas!—as we go ashore on
+this beautiful bright day, we have to give up
+for ever the old Dunvegan of many a dream—the
+dark and solitary keep that we had
+imagined perched high above the Atlantic
+breakers—the sheer precipices, the awful
+sterility, the wail of lamentation along the lonely
+shores.  This is a different picture altogether
+that Mary Avon has been trying to put down
+on her canvas—a spacious, almost modern-looking,
+but nevertheless picturesque castle,
+sheltered from the winds by softly wooded
+hills, a bit of smooth, blue water below, and
+further along the shores the cheerful evidences
+of fertility and cultivation.  The wail of
+Dunvegan?  Why, here is a brisk and thriving
+village, with a post-office, and a shop, and a
+building that looks uncommonly like an inn;
+and there, dotted all about, and encroaching
+on the upper moorland, any number of those
+small crofts that were once the pride of the
+Highlands and that gave to England the most
+stalwart of her regiments.  Here are no ruined
+huts and voiceless wastes; but a cheerful, busy
+picture of peasant-life; the strapping wenches
+at work in the small farm-yards, well-built and
+frank of face; the men well clad; the children
+well fed and merry enough.  It is a scene that
+delights the heart of our good friend of
+Denny-mains.  If we had but time, he would fain go
+in among the tiny farms, and inquire about the
+rent of the holdings, and the price paid for
+those picturesque little beasts that the artists
+are for ever painting—with a louring sky
+beyond, and a dash of sunlight in front.  But
+our Doctor is obdurate.  He will not have
+Mary Avon walk further; she must return
+to the yacht.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But on our way back, as she is walking
+by the side of the road, he suddenly puts his
+hand on her arm, apparently to stop her.
+Slight as the touch is, she naturally looks
+surprised.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon," he says, hastily, "but
+I thought you would rather not tread on it——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He is regarding a weed by the wayside—a
+thing that looks like a snapdragon of some
+sort.  We did not expect to find a hard-headed
+man of science betray this trumpery sentiment
+about a weed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you would rather not tread upon
+it when you knew it was a stranger," he says,
+in explanation of that rude assault upon her
+arm.  "That is not an English plant at all;
+it is the </span><em class="italics">Mimulus</em><span>, its real home is in America."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We began to look with more interest on
+the audacious small foreigner that had boldly
+adventured across the seas.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," she says, looking back along the
+road, "I hope I have not trampled any of
+them down."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it does not </span><em class="italics">much</em><span> matter," he admits,
+"for the plant is becoming quite common now
+in parts of the West Highlands; but I thought
+as it was a stranger, and come all the way
+across the Atlantic on a voyage of discovery,
+you would be hospitable.  I suppose the
+Gulf-stream brought the first of them over."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And if they had any choice in the matter,"
+says Mary Avon, looking down, and speaking
+with a little self-conscious deliberation, "and
+if they wanted to be hospitably received, they
+showed their good sense in coming to the
+West Highlands."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>After that there was a dead silence on the
+part of Angus Sutherland.  But why should
+he have been embarrassed?  There was no
+compliment levelled at him that he should
+blush like a schoolboy.  It was quite true that
+Miss Avon's liking—even love—for the West
+Highlands was becoming very apparent; but
+Banffshire is not in the West Highlands.
+What although Angus Sutherland could speak
+a few words in the Gaelic tongue to an old
+boatman?  He came from Banff.  Banffshire
+is not in the West Highlands.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then that afternoon at the great castle
+itself: what have we but a confused recollection
+of twelfth-century towers; and walls nine
+feet thick; and ghost-chambers; and a certain
+fairy-flag, that is called the </span><em class="italics">Bratach-Sith</em><span>; and
+the wide view over the blue Atlantic; and of
+a great kindness that made itself visible in the
+way of hothouse flowers and baskets of fruit,
+and what not?  The portraits, too: the
+various centuries got mixed up with the old
+legends, until we did not know in which face
+to look for some transmitted expression that
+might tell of the Cave of Uig or the Uamh-na-Ceann.
+But there was one portrait there, quite
+modern, and beautiful, that set all the tourist-folk
+a raving, so lovely were the life-like eyes
+of it; and the Laird was bold enough to say
+to the gentle lady who was so good as to be
+our guide, that it would be one of the greatest
+happinesses of his life if he might be allowed
+to ask Mr. Galbraith, the well-known artist of
+Edinburgh, to select a young painter to come
+up to Dunvegan and make a copy of this
+picture for him, Denny-mains.  And
+Dr. Sutherland could scarcely come away from
+that beautiful face; and our good Queen T. was
+quite charmed with it; and as for Mary
+Avon, when one of us regarded her, behold! as
+she looked up, there was a sort of moisture
+in the soft black eyes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>What was she thinking of?  That it must
+be a fine thing to be so beautiful a woman, and
+charm the eyes of all men?  But now—now
+that we had had this singing-bird with us on
+board the yacht for so long a time—would any
+one of us have admitted that she was rather
+plain?  It would not have gone well with any
+one who had ventured to say so to the Laird
+of Denny-mains, at all events.  And as for our
+sovereign-lady and mistress, these were the
+lines which she always said described Mary Avon:—</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>Was never seen thing to be praised derre,[#]</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Nor under blacke cloud so bright a sterre,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>As she was, as they saiden, every one</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>That her behelden in her blacke weed;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And yet she stood, full low and still, alone,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Behind all other folk, in little brede,[#]</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And nigh the door, ay under shame's drede;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Simple of bearing, debonair of cheer,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>With a full surë[#] looking and mannere.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] </span><em class="italics small">derre</em><span class="small">, dearer.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">[#] </span><em class="italics small">in little brede</em><span class="small">, without display.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">[#] </span><em class="italics small">surë</em><span class="small">, frank.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>How smart the saloon of the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>
+looked that evening at dinner, with those
+geraniums, and roses, and fuchsias, and what
+not, set amid the tender green of the maidenhair
+fern!  But all the same there was a serious
+discussion.  Fruit, flowers, vegetables, and
+fresh milk, however welcome, fill no larder;
+and Master Fred had returned with the doleful
+tale that all his endeavours to purchase a sheep
+at one of the neighbouring farms had been
+of no avail.  Forthwith we resolve to make
+another effort.  Far away, on the outer shores
+of Dunvegan Loch, we can faintly descry, in
+the glow of the evening, some crofter's huts
+on the slopes of the hill.  Down with the gig,
+then, boys; in with the fishing-rods; and
+away for the distant shores, where haply, some
+tender ewe-lamb, or brace of quacking duck,
+or some half-dozen half-starved fowls may be
+withdrawn from the reluctant tiller of the
+earth!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It is a beautiful clear evening, with
+lemon-gold glory in the north-west.  And our
+stout-sinewed Doctor is rowing stroke, and there is
+a monotonous refrain of</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"We must give you a wage as one of the
+hands, Angus," says Queen T.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am paid already," says he.  "I would
+work my passage through for the sketch of
+Canna that Miss Avon gave me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you like to ask the other men
+whether they would take the same payment?"
+says Miss Avon, in modest depreciation of
+her powers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not say anything against the landscape
+ye gave to Dr. Sutherland," observes the
+Laird.  "No, no; there is great merit in it.
+I have told ye before I would like to show
+it to Tom Galbraith before it goes south; I
+am sure he would approve of it.  Indeed, he
+is jist such a friend of mine that I would take
+the leeberty of asking him to give it a bit
+touch here and there—what an experienced
+artist would see amiss ye know——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Galbraith may be an experienced
+artist," says our Doctor friend with unnecessary
+asperity, "but he is not going to touch
+that picture."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah can tell ye," says the Laird, who is
+rather hurt by this rejection, "that the advice
+of Tom Galbraith has been taken by the
+greatest artists in England.  He was up in
+London last year, and was at the studio of
+one of the first of the Acadameecians, and that
+very man was not ashamed to ask the opeenion
+of Tom Galbraith.  And says Tom to him,
+'The face is very fine, but the right arm is out
+of drawing.'  You would think that impertinent?
+The Acadameecian, I can tell you,
+thought differently.  Says he, 'That has been
+my own opeenion, but no one would ever tell
+me so; and I would have left it as it is had
+ye no spoken.'"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no doubt the Academacian who did
+not know when his picture was out of drawing
+was quite right to take the advice of Tom
+Galbraith," says our stroke-oar.  "But Tom
+Galbraith is not going to touch Miss Avon's
+sketch of Canna——" and here the fierce
+altercation is stopped, for stroke-oar puts a
+fresh spurt on, and we hear another sound—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Soon the freshening breeze will blow.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Well show the snowy canvas on her,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Well, what was the result of our quest?
+After we had landed Master Fred, and sent
+him up the hills, and gone off fishing for lithe
+for an hour or so, we returned to the shore
+in the gathering dusk.  We found our
+messenger seated on a rock, contentedly singing
+a Gaelic song, and plucking a couple of fowls
+which was all the provender he had secured.
+It was in vain that he tried to cheer us by
+informing us that the animals in question had
+cost only sixpence a-piece.  We knew that
+they were not much bigger than thrushes.
+Awful visions of tinned meats began to rise
+before us.  In gloom we took the steward and
+the microscopic fowls on board, and set out
+for the yacht.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But the Laird did not lose his spirits.  He
+declared that self-preservation was the first law
+of nature, and that, despite the injunctions of
+the Wild Birds' Protection Act, he would get
+out his gun and shoot the first brood of
+"flappers" he saw about those lonely lochs.
+And he told us such a "good one" about
+Homesh that we laughed nearly all the way
+back to the yacht.  Provisions?  We were
+independent of provisions!  With a handful
+of rice a day we would cross the Atlantic—we
+would cross twenty Atlantics—so long as
+we were to be regaled and cheered by the
+"good ones" of our friend of Denny-mains.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Sutherland, too, seemed in no wise
+depressed by the famine in the land.  In the
+lamp-lit saloon, as we gathered round the
+table, and cards and things were brought out,
+and the Laird began to brew his toddy, the
+young Doctor maintained that no one on land
+could imagine the snugness of life on board a
+yacht.  And now he had almost forgotten to
+speak of leaving us; perhaps it was the
+posting of the paper on Radiolarians, along with
+other MSS., that had set his mind free.  But
+touching that matter of the Dunvegan
+post-office: why had he been so particular in
+asking Mary Avon if she were not expecting
+letters; and why did he so suddenly grow
+enthusiastic about the scenery on learning that
+the young lady, on her travels, was not
+pestered with correspondence?  Miss Avon was
+not a Cabinet Minister.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-old-school-and-the-new"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>The last instructions given to John of Skye
+that night were large and liberal.  At break
+of day he was to sail for any port he might
+chance to encounter on the wide seas.  So
+long as Angus Sutherland did not speak of
+returning, what did it matter to us?—Loch
+Boisdale, Loch Seaforth, Stornaway, St. Kilda,
+the North Pole were all the same.  It is true
+that of fresh meat we had on board only two
+fowls about the size of wrens; but of all
+varieties of tinned meats and fruit we had an
+abundant store.  And if perchance we were
+forced to shoot a sheep on the Flannen Islands,
+would not the foul deed be put down to the
+discredit of those dastardly Frenchmen?
+When you rise up as a nation and guillotine
+all the respectable folk in the country, it is
+only to be expected of you thereafter that you
+should go about the seas shooting other
+people's sheep.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And indeed when we get on deck after breakfast,
+we find that John of Skye has fulfilled
+his instructions to the letter; that is to say,
+he must have started at daybreak to get away
+so far from Dunvegan and the headlands of
+Skye.  But as for going farther?  There is
+not a speck of cloud in the dome of blue;
+there is not a ripple on the dazzling sea; there
+is not a breath of wind to stir the great white
+sails all aglow in the sunlight; nor is there
+even enough of the Atlantic swell to move
+the indolent tiller.  How John of Skye has
+managed to bring us so far on so calm a
+morning remains a mystery.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And the glass shows no signs of falling,"
+says our young Doctor quite regretfully: does
+he long for a hurricane, that so he may exhibit
+his sailor-like capacities?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But Mary Avon, with a practical air, is
+arranging her easel on deck, and fixing up a
+canvas, and getting out the tubes she
+wants—the while she absently sings to herself
+something about</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Beauty lies</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">In many eyes,</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">But love in yours, my Nora Creina.</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>And what will she attack now?  Those long
+headlands of Skye, dark in shadow, with a
+glow of sunlight along their summits; or those
+lonely hills of Uist set far amid the melancholy
+main; or those vaster and paler mountains of
+Harris, that rise on the north of the dreaded
+Sound?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> courage," says Angus
+Sutherland, admiringly, "to try to make a
+picture out of </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," she says, modestly, though she is
+obviously pleased, "that is a pet theory of
+mine.  I try for ordinary every-day effects,
+without any theatrical business; and if I had
+only the power to reach them, I know I
+should surprise people.  Because you know
+most people go through the world with a sort
+of mist before their eyes; and they are awfully
+grateful to you when you suddenly clap a pair
+of spectacles on their nose and make them see
+things as they are.  I cannot do it as yet,
+you know; but there is no harm in trying."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you do it remarkably well," he
+says; "but what are you to make of
+that?—nothing but two great sheets of blue, with
+a line of bluer hills between?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But Miss Avon speedily presents us with
+the desired pair of spectacles.  Instead of the
+cloudless blue day we had imagined it to be,
+we find that there are low masses of white
+cloud along the Skye cliffs, and these throw
+long reflections on the glassy sea, and
+moreover we begin to perceive that the calm
+vault around us is not an uninterrupted blue,
+but melts into a pale green as it nears the
+eastern horizon.  Angus Sutherland leaves the
+artist to her work.  He will not interrupt her
+by idle talk.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There is no idle talk going forward where
+the Laird is concerned.  He has got hold of
+an attentive listener in the person of his
+hostess, who is deep in needlework; and he
+is expounding to her more clearly than ever
+the merits of the great Semple case, pointing
+out more particularly how the charges in the
+major proposition are borne out by the
+extracts in the minor.  Yes; and he has caught
+the critics, too, on the hip.  What about
+the discovery of those clever gentlemen that
+Genesis X. and 10 was incorrect?  They
+thought they were exceedingly smart in
+proving that the founders of Babel were the
+descendants, not of Ham, but of Shem.  But
+when the ruins of Babel were examined,
+what then?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, it was distinctly shown that the
+founders were the descendants of Ham, after
+all!" says Denny-mains, triumphantly.  "What
+do ye think of that, Dr. Sutherland?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Angus Sutherland starts from a reverie: he
+has not been listening.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Of what?" he says.  "The Semple case?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well," he says, rather carelessly, "all
+that wrangling is as good an occupation as
+any other—to keep people from thinking."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird stares, as if he had not heard
+aright.  Angus Sutherland is not aware of
+having said anything startling.  He continues
+quite innocently—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Any occupation is valuable enough that
+diverts the mind—that is why hard work is
+conducive to complete mental health; it does
+not matter whether it is grouse-shooting, or
+commanding an army, or wrangling about
+major or minor propositions.  If a man were
+continually to be facing the awful mystery of
+existence—asking the record of the earth and
+the stars how he came to be here, and getting
+no answer at all—he must inevitably go mad.
+The brain could not stand it.  If the human
+race had not busied itself with wars and
+commerce, and so forth, it must centuries ago
+have committed suicide.  That is the value
+of hard work—to keep people from thinking
+of the unknown around them; the more a
+man is occupied, the happier he is—it does
+not matter whether he occupies himself with
+School Boards, or salmon-fishing, or the
+prosecution of a heretic."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He did not remark the amazed look on the
+Laird's face, nor yet that Mary Avon had
+dropped her painting and was listening.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The fact is," he said, with a smile, "if you
+are likely to fall to thinking about the real
+mysteries of existence anywhere, it is among
+solitudes like these, where you see what a
+trivial little accident human life is in the
+history of the earth.  You can't think about such
+things in Regent Street; the cigar-shops, the
+cabs, the passing people occupy you.  But
+here you are brought back as it were to all
+sorts of first principles; and commonplaces
+appear somehow in their original freshness.
+In Regent Street you no doubt know that
+life is a strange thing, and that death is a
+strange thing, because you have been told so,
+and you believe it, and think no more about
+it.  But here—with the seas and skies round
+you, and with the silence of the night making
+you think, you </span><em class="italics">feel</em><span> the strangeness of these
+things.  Now just look over there; the blue
+sea, and the blue sky, and the hills—it is a
+curious thing to think that they will be shining
+there just as they are now—on just such
+another day as this—and you unable to see
+them or anything else—passed away like a
+ghost.  And the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> will be sailing
+up here; and John will be keeping an eye on
+Ushinish lighthouse; but your eyes won't be
+able to see anything——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Angus, I do declare," exclaims our
+sovereign mistress, "you have chosen a
+comforting thing to talk about this morning.  Are
+we to be always thinking about our coffin?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"On the contrary," says the young Doctor;
+"I was only insisting on the wholesomeness of
+people occupying themselves diligently with
+some distraction or other, however trivial.  And
+how do you think the Semple case will end, sir?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But our good friend of Denny-mains was far
+too deeply shocked and astounded to reply.
+The great Semple case a trivial thing—a
+distraction—an occupation to keep people from
+serious thinking!  The public duties, too, of the
+Commissioner for the Burgh of Strathgovan;
+were these to be regarded as a mere plaything?
+The new steam fire-engine was only a toy,
+then?  The proposed new park and the addition
+to the rates were to be regarded as a piece
+of amiable diversion?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird knew that Angus Sutherland had
+not read the </span><em class="italics">Vestiges of Creation</em><span>, and that
+was a hopeful sign.  But, </span><em class="italics">Vestiges</em><span> or no
+</span><em class="italics">Vestiges</em><span>, what were the young men of the day
+coming to if their daring speculations led them
+to regard the most serious and important
+concerns of life as a pastime?  The
+Commissioners for the Burgh of Strathgoven were
+but a parcel of children, then, playing on the
+sea-shore, and unaware of the awful deeps
+beyond?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am looking at these things only as a
+doctor," says Dr. Sutherland, lightly—seeing
+that the Laird is too dumbfounded to answer
+his question, "and I sometimes think a doctor's
+history of civilisation would be an odd thing,
+if only you could get at the physiological facts
+of the case.  I should like to know, for example,
+what Napoleon had for supper on the night
+before Waterloo.  Something indigestible, you
+may be sure; if his brain had been clear on the
+15th, he would have smashed the Allies, and
+altered modern history.  I should have greatly
+liked, too, to make the acquaintance of the man
+who first announced his belief that infants dying
+unbaptised were to suffer eternal torture: I
+think it must have been his liver.  I should like
+to have examined him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to have poisoned him," says
+Mary Avon, with a flash of anger in the soft eyes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no; the poor wretch was only the
+victim of some ailment," said our Doctor,
+charitably.  "There must have been something
+very much the matter with Calvin, too.  I
+know I could have cured Schopenhauer of his
+pessimism if he had let me put him on a
+wholesome regimen."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird probably did not know who
+Schopenhauer was; but the audacity of the
+new school was altogether too much for him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I suppose," he said, stammering in his
+amazement, "ye would have taken Joan of Arc,
+and treated her as a lunatic?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no; not as a confirmed lunatic," he
+answered, quite simply.  "But the diagnosis of
+that case is obvious; I think she could have
+been cured.  All that Joanna Southcote wanted
+was a frank physician."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird rose and went forward to where
+Mary Avon was standing at her easel.  He
+had had enough.  The criticism of landscape
+painting was more within his compass.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very good—very good," says he, as if his
+whole attention had been occupied by her
+sketching.  "The reflections on the water are
+just fine.  Ye must let me show all your
+sketches to Tom Galbraith before ye go back
+to the south."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I hear you have been talking about the
+mysteries of existence," she says, with a smile.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, ay, it is easy to talk," he says, sharply—and
+not willing to confess that he has been
+driven away from the field.  "I am afraid there
+is an unsettling tendency among the young
+men of the present day—a want of respect for
+things that have been established by the
+common sense of the world.  Not that I am
+against all innovation.  No, no.  The world
+cannot stand still.  I myself, now; do ye know
+that I was among the first in Glasgow to hold
+that it might be permissible to have an organ
+to lead the psalmody of a church?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, indeed," says she, with much respect.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is true.  No, no; I am not one of the
+bigoted.  Give me the Essentials, and I do not
+care if ye put a stone cross on the top of the
+church.  I tell ye that honestly; I would not
+object even to a cross on the building if all was
+sound within."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure you are quite right, sir," says
+Mary Avon, gently.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But no tampering with the Essentials.
+And as for the millinery, and incense, and
+crucifixes of they poor craytures that have not
+the courage to go right over to Rome—who
+stop on this side, and play-act at being
+Romans—it is seeckening—perfectly seeckening.  As
+for the Romans themselves, I do not condemn
+them.  No, no.  If they are in error, I doubt
+not they believe with a good conscience.  And
+when I am in a foreign town, and one o' their
+processions of priests and boys comes by, I
+raise my hat.  I do indeed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, naturally," says Mary Avon.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," continues Denny-mains, warmly,
+"there is none of the bigot about me.  There
+is a minister of the Episcopalian Church that I
+know; and there is no one more welcome in
+my house: I ask him to say grace just as I
+would a minister of my own Church."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And which is that, sir?" she asked meekly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird stares at her.  Is it possible that
+she has heard him so elaborately expound
+the Semple prosecution, and not be aware to
+what denomination he belongs?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The Free—the Free Church, of course,"
+he says, with some surprise.  "Have ye not
+seen the </span><em class="italics">Report of Proceedings</em><span> in the Semple
+case?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I have not," she answers, timidly.
+"You have been so kind in explaining it that—that
+a printed report was quite unnecessary."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But I will get ye one—I will get ye one
+directly," says he.  "I have several copies in
+my portmanteau.  And ye will see my name in
+front as one of the elders who considered it fit
+and proper that a full report should be
+published, so as to warn the public against these
+inseedious attacks against our faith.  Don't
+interrupt your work, my lass; but I will get
+ye the pamphlet; and whenever you want to
+sit down for a time, ye will find it most
+interesting reading—most interesting."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And so the worthy Laird goes below to fetch
+that valued report.  And scarcely has he
+disappeared than a sudden commotion rages
+over the deck.  Behold! a breeze coming swiftly
+over the sea—ruffling the glassy deep as it
+approaches!  Angus Sutherland jumps to the
+tiller.  The head-sails fill; and the boat begins
+to move.  The lee-sheets are hauled taut; and
+now the great mainsail is filled too.  There is
+a rippling and hissing of water; and a new
+stir of life and motion throughout the vessel
+from stem to stern.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It seems but the beginning of the day now,
+though it is near lunch-time.  Mary Avon puts
+away her sketch of the dead calm, and sits
+down just under the lee of the boom, where
+the cool breeze is blowing along.  The Laird,
+having brought up the pamphlet, is vigorously
+pacing the deck for his morning exercise; we
+have all awakened from these idle reveries
+about the mystery of life.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha," he says, coming aft, "this is
+fine—this is fine now.  Why not give the men a
+glass of whiskey all round for whistling up such a
+fine breeze?  Do ye think they would object?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Better give them a couple of bottles of
+beer for their dinner," suggests Queen T., who
+is no lover of whiskey.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But do you think the Laird is to be put off
+his story by any such suggestion?  We can
+see by his face that he has an anecdote to fire
+off; is it not apparent that his mention of
+whiskey was made with a purpose?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There was a real good one," says he—and
+the laughter is already twinkling in his eyes,
+"about the man that was apologising before
+his family for having been drinking whiskey
+with some friends.  'Ay,' says he, 'they just
+held me and forced it down my throat.'  Then
+says his son—a little chap about ten—says he,
+'I think I could ha' held ye mysel',
+feyther'—ho! ho! ho!' says he, 'I think I could ha'
+held ye mysel', feyther;'" and the Laird
+laughed, and laughed again, till the tears came
+into his eyes.  We could see that he was still
+internally laughing at that good one when we
+went below for luncheon.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At luncheon, too, the Laird quite made up his
+feud with Angus Sutherland, for he had a great
+many other good ones to tell about whiskey
+and whiskey drinking; and he liked a
+sympathetic audience.  But this general merriment
+was suddenly dashed by an ominous suggestion
+coming from our young Doctor.  Why,
+he asked, should we go on fighting against
+these northerly winds?  Why not turn and run
+before them?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you want to leave us, Angus," said
+his hostess reproachfully.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no," he said, and with some colour in
+his face.  "I don't want to go, but I fear I
+must very soon now.  However, I did not
+make that suggestion on my own account; if I
+were pressed for time, I could get somewhere
+where I could catch the </span><em class="italics">Clansman</em><span>."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Avon looked down, saying nothing.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You would not leave the ship like that,"
+says his hostess.  "You would not run away,
+surely?  Rather than that we will turn at once.
+Where are we now?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"If the breeze lasts, we will get over to
+Uist, to Loch na Maddy, this evening, but you
+must not think of altering your plans on my
+account.  I made the suggestion because of
+what Captain John was saying."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," says our Admiral of the Fleet,
+taking no heed of properly constituted
+authority.  "Suppose we set out on our return
+voyage to-morrow morning, going round the
+other side of Skye for a change.  But you
+know, Angus, it is not fair of you to run
+away when you say yourself there is nothing
+particular calls you to London."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," says he, "I am not going to London
+just yet.  I am going to Banff, to see my
+father.  There is an uncle of mine, too, on a
+visit to the manse."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you will be coming south again?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why not come another cruise with us
+on your way back?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was not like this hard-headed young
+Doctor to appear so embarrassed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is what I should like very much
+myself," he stammered, "if—if I were not in
+the way of your other arrangements."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall make no other arrangements,"
+says the other definitely.  "Now that is a
+promise, mind.  No drawing back.  Mary will
+put it down in writing, and hold you to it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Avon had not looked up all this time.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You should not press Dr. Sutherland too
+much," she says shyly; "perhaps he has other
+friends he would like to see before leaving
+Scotland."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The hypocrite!  Did she want to make
+Angus Sutherland burst a blood-vessel in
+protesting that of all the excursions he had made
+in his life this would be to him for ever the
+most memorable; and that a repetition or
+extension of it was a delight in the future
+almost too great to think of?  However, she
+seemed pleased that he spoke so warmly, and
+she did not attempt to contradict him.  If he
+had really enjoyed all this rambling idleness, it
+would no doubt the better fit him for his work
+in the great capital.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We beat in to Loch na Maddy—that is, the
+Lake of the Dogs—in the quiet evening; and
+the rather commonplace low-lying hills, and the
+plain houses of the remote little village, looked
+beautiful enough under the glow of the western
+skies.  And we went ashore, and walked
+inland for a space, through an intricate
+network of lagoons inbranching from the sea;
+and we saw the trout leaping and making
+circles on the gold-red pools, and watched the
+herons rising from their fishing and winging
+their slow flight across the silent lakes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And it was a beautiful night, too, and we
+had a little singing on deck.  Perhaps there
+was an under-current of regret in the knowledge
+that now—for this voyage, at least—we
+had touched our farthest point.  To-morrow we
+were to set out again for the south.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="ferdinand-and-miranda"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">FERDINAND AND MIRANDA.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>The wind was laughing at Angus Sutherland.
+All the time we had been sailing north
+it had blown from the north; how that we
+turned our faces eastward, it wheeled round
+to the east, as if it would imprison him for
+ever in this floating home.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">You would fain get away</em><span>"—this was the
+mocking sound that one of us seemed to hear
+in those light airs of the morning that blew
+along the white canvas—"</span><em class="italics">the world calls;
+ambition, fame, the eagerness of rivalry, the spell
+that science throws over her disciples, all these
+are powerful, and they draw you, and you
+would fain get away.  But the hand of the
+wind is uplifted against you; you may fret as
+you will, but you are not round Ru Hunish yet!</em><span>"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And perhaps the imaginative small creature
+who heard these strange things in the light
+breeze against which we were fighting our way
+across the Minch may have been forming her
+own plans.  Angus Sutherland, she used often
+to say, wanted humanising.  He was too proud
+and scornful in the pride of his knowledge;
+the gentle hand of a woman was needed to
+lead him into more tractable ways.  And then
+this Mary Avon, with her dexterous, nimble
+woman's wit, and her indomitable courage, and
+her life and spirit, and abounding cheerfulness;
+would she not be a splendid companion for
+him during his long and hard struggle?  This
+born match-maker had long ago thrown away
+any notion about the Laird transferring our
+singing-bird to Denny-mains.  She had almost
+forgotten about the project of bringing Howard
+Smith, the Laird's nephew, and half-compelling
+him to marry Mary Avon: that was preposterous
+on the face of it.  But she had grown
+accustomed, during those long days of tranquil
+idleness, to see our young Doctor and Mary
+Avon together, cut off from all the distractions of
+the world, a new Paul and Virginia.  Why—she
+may have asked herself—should not these two
+solitary waifs, thus thrown by chance together
+on the wide ocean of existence, why should
+they not cling to each other and strengthen
+each other in the coming days of trial and
+storm?  The strange, pathetic, phantasmal
+farce of life is brief; they cannot seize it and
+hold it, and shape it to their own ends; they
+know not whence it comes, or whither it goes;
+but while the brief, strange thing lasts, they
+can grasp each other's hand, and make
+sure—amid all the unknown things around them,
+the mountains, and the wide seas, and the
+stars—of some common, humble, human
+sympathy.  It is so natural to grasp the hand
+of another in the presence of something
+vast and unknown.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The rest of us, at all events, have no time
+for such vague dreams and reveries.  There
+is no idleness on board the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> out
+here on the shining deep.  Dr. Sutherland
+has rigged up for himself a sort of gymnasium
+by putting a rope across the shrouds to the
+peak halyards; and on this rather elastic
+cross-bar he is taking his morning exercise by going
+through a series of performances, no doubt
+picked up in Germany.  Miss Avon is busy
+with a sketch of the long headland running
+out to Vaternish Point; though, indeed, this
+smooth Atlantic roll makes it difficult for her
+to keep her feet, and introduces a certain
+amount of haphazard into her handiwork.
+The Laird has brought on deck a formidable
+portfolio of papers, no doubt relating to the
+public affairs of Strathgovan; and has put on
+his gold spectacles; and has got his pencil in
+hand.  Master Fred is re-arranging the cabins;
+the mistress of the yacht is looking after her
+flowers.  And then is heard the voice of John
+of Skye—"</span><em class="italics">Stand by, boys!</em><span>" and "</span><em class="italics">Bout ship!</em><span>"
+and the helm goes down, and the jib and
+foresail flutter and tear at the blocks and
+sheets, and then the sails gently fill, and the
+</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> is away on another tack.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I give in," says Mary Avon, at last,
+as a heavier lurch than usual threatens to
+throw her and her easel together into the
+scuppers.  "It </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> no use."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you never gave in, Mary," says
+our Admiral, whose head has appeared again
+at the top of the companion-stairs.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder who could paint like this," says
+Miss Avon, indignantly.  And indeed she is
+trussed up like a fowl, with one arm round
+one of the gig davits.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Turner was lashed to the mast of a vessel
+in order to see a storm," says Queen T.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But not to paint," retorts the other.
+"Besides, I am not Turner.  Besides, I am tired."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>By this time, of course, Angus Sutherland
+has come to her help; and removes her easel
+and what not for her; and fetches her a
+deck-chair.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you like to play chess?" says he.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," she answers dutifully, "if you
+think the pieces will stay on the board."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Draughts will be safer," says he, and
+therewith he plunges below, and fetches up
+the squared board.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And so, on this beautiful summer day, with
+the shining seas around them, and a cool breeze
+tempering the heat of the sun, Ferdinand and
+Miranda set to work.  And it was a pretty
+sight to see them—her soft dark eyes so full
+of an anxious care to acquit herself well; his
+robust, hard, fresh-coloured face full of a sort
+of good-natured forbearance.  But nevertheless
+it was a strange game.  All Scotchmen are
+supposed to play draughts; and one brought
+up in a manse is almost of necessity a good
+player.  But one astonished onlooker began
+to perceive that, whereas Mary Avon played
+but indifferently, her opponent played with a
+blindness that was quite remarkable.  She
+had a very pretty, small, white hand; was he
+looking at that that he did not, on one occasion,
+see how he could have taken three pieces and
+crowned his man all at one fell swoop?  And
+then is it considered incumbent on a
+draught-player to inform his opponent of what would
+be a better move on the part of the latter?
+However that may be, true it is that, by dint
+of much advice, opportune blindness, and
+atrocious bad play, the Doctor managed to
+get the game ended in a draw.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me," said Mary Avon, "I never
+thought I should have had a chance.  The
+Scotch are such good draught-players."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But you play remarkably well," said he—and
+there was no blush of shame on his face.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Draughts and luncheon carry us on to the
+afternoon; and still the light breeze holds out;
+and we get nearer and nearer to the most
+northerly points of Skye.  And as the evening
+draws on, we can now make out the hilly line
+of Ross-shire—a pale rose-colour in the far
+east; and nearer at hand is the Skye coast,
+with the warm sunlight touching on the ruins
+of Duntulme, where Donald Gorm Mor fed
+his imprisoned nephew on salt beef, and then
+lowered to him an empty cup—mocking him
+before he died; and then in the west the
+mountains of Harris, a dark purple against
+the clear lemon-golden glow.  But as night
+draws on, behold! the wind dies away altogether;
+and we lie becalmed on a lilac-and-silver
+sea, with some rocky islands over there
+grown into a strange intense green in the
+clear twilight.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Down with the gig, then, John of Skye!—and
+hurry in all our rods, and lines, and
+the occult entrapping inventions of our
+patriarch of Denny-mains.  We have no scruple
+about leaving the yacht in mid-ocean, in charge
+of the steward only.  The clear twilight shines
+in the sky; there is not a ripple on the sea;
+only the long Atlantic swell that we can hear
+breaking far away on the rocks.  And surely
+such calms are infrequent in the Minch; and
+surely these lonely rocks can have been visited
+but seldom by passing voyagers?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Yet the great rollers—as we near the
+forbidding shores—break with an ominous thunder
+on the projecting points and reefs.  The Doctor
+insists on getting closer and closer—he knows
+where the big lithe are likely to be found—and
+the men, although they keep a watchful eye
+about them, obey.  And then—it is Mary Avon
+who first calls out—and behold!  her rod is
+suddenly dragged down—the point is hauled below
+the water—agony and alarm are on her face.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Here—take it—take it!" she calls out.
+"The rod will be broken."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a bit," the Doctor calls out.  "Give
+him the butt hard!  Never mind the rod!
+Haul away!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And indeed by this time everybody was
+alternately calling and hauling; and John of
+Skye, attending to the rods of the two ladies,
+had scarcely time to disengage the big fish,
+and smooth the flies again; and the Laird
+was declaring that these lithe fight as hard
+as a twenty-pound salmon.  What did we care
+about those needles and points of black rock
+that every two or three seconds showed their
+teeth through the breaking white surf?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep her close in, boys!" Angus Sutherland
+cried.  "We shall have a fine pickling
+to-morrow."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then one fish, stronger or bigger than his
+fellows, pulls the rod clean out of Mary Avon's
+hands.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I have done it this time," she says.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a bit!" her companion cries.  "Up
+all lines!  Back now, lads—gently!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And as the stern of the boat is shoved over
+the great glassy billows, behold! a thin dark
+line occasionally visible—the end of the lost
+rod!  Then there is a swoop on the part of
+our Doctor; he has both his hands on the
+butt; there elapses a minute or two of fighting
+between man and fish; and then we can see
+below the boat the wan gleam of the captured
+animal as it comes to the surface in slow
+circles.  Hurrah! a seven-pounder!  John of
+Skye chuckles to himself as he grasps the
+big lithe.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, ay!" he says, "the young leddy knows
+ferry well when to throw away the rod.  It
+is a gran' good thing to throw away the rod
+when there will be a big fish.  Ay, ay, it iss
+a good fish."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But the brutes that fought hardest of all
+were the dog-fish—the snakes of the sea; and
+there was a sort of holy Archangelic joy on
+the face of John of Skye when he seized a
+lump of stick to fell these hideous creatures
+before flinging them back into the water again.
+And yet why should they have been killed on
+account of their snake-like eyes and their cruel
+mouth?  The human race did not rise and
+extirpate Frederick Smethurst because he was
+ill-favoured.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>By half-past ten we had secured a good
+cargo of fish; and then we set out for the
+yacht.  The clear twilight was still shining
+above the Harris hills; but there was a dusky
+shadow along the Outer Hebrides, where the
+orange ray of Scalpa light was shining; and
+there was dusk in the south, so that the yacht
+had become invisible altogether.  It was a long
+pull back; for the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> had been carried
+far by the ebb tide.  When we found her, she
+looked like a tall grey ghost in the gathering
+darkness; and no light had as yet been put
+up; but all the same we had a laughing
+welcome from Master Fred, who was glad to have
+the fresh fish wherewith to supplement our
+frugal meals.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then the next morning—when we got up
+and looked around—we were in the same
+place!  And the glass would not fall; and the
+blue skies kept blue; and we had to encounter
+still another day of dreamy idleness.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The weather is conspiring against you,
+Angus," our sovereign lady said, with a smile.
+"And you know you cannot run away from the
+yacht: it would be so cowardly to take the
+steamer."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, indeed," said he, "it is the first time
+in my life that I have found absolute idleness
+enjoyable; and I am not so very anxious it
+should end.  Somehow, though, I fear we are
+too well off.  When we get back to the
+region of letters and telegrams, don't you
+think we shall have to pay for all this selfish
+happiness?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why should we go back?" she says
+lightly.  "Why not make a compact to forsake
+the world altogether, and live all our life on
+board the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Somehow, his eyes wandered to Mary Avon;
+and he said—rather absently—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I, for one, should like it well enough; if it
+were only possible."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," says the Laird, brusquely, "that
+will no do at all.  It was never intended that
+people should go and live for themselves like
+that.  Ye have your duties to the nation and to
+the laws that protect ye.  When I left
+Denny-mains I told my brother Commissioners that
+what I could do when I was away to further
+the business of the Burgh I would do; and I
+have entered most minutely into several
+matters of great importance.  And that is why I
+am anxious to get to Portree.  I expect
+most important letters there."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Portree!  Our whereabouts on the chart last
+night was marked between 45 and 46 fathoms
+W.S.W. from some nameless rocks; and here,
+as far as we can make out, we are still between
+these mystical numbers.  What can we do but
+chat, and read, and play draughts, and twirl
+round a rope, and ascend to the cross-trees to
+look out for a breeze, and watch and listen to
+the animal-life around us?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I do think," says Mary Avon to her hostess,
+"the calling of those divers is the softest and
+most musical sound I ever heard; perhaps
+because it is associated with so many beautiful
+places.  Just fancy, now, if you were suddenly
+to hear a diver symphony beginning in an
+opera—if all the falsetto recitative and the
+blare of the trumpets were to stop—and if you
+were to hear the violins and flutes beginning,
+quite low and soft, a diver symphony, would
+you not think of the Hebrides, and the </span><em class="italics">White
+Dove</em><span>, and the long summer days?  In the
+winter, you know, in London, I fancy we
+should go once or twice to see </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> opera!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never been to an opera," remarks
+the Laird, quite impervious to Mary Avon's
+tender enthusiasm.  "I am told it is a fantastic
+exhibeetion."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>One incident of that day was the appearance
+of a new monster of the deep, which approached
+quite close to the hull of the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>.
+Leaning over the rail we could see him clearly
+in the clear water—a beautiful, golden,
+submarine insect, with a conical body like that of a
+land-spider, and six or eight slender legs, by
+the incurving of which he slowly propelled
+himself through the water.  As we were
+perfectly convinced that no one had ever been in
+such dead calms in the Minch before, and had
+lain for twenty-four hours in the neighbourhood
+of 45 and 46, we took it for granted that this
+was a new animal.  In the temporary absence
+of our F.R.S., the Laird was bold enough to
+name it the </span><em class="italics">Arachne Mary-Avonensis</em><span>; but did
+not seek to capture it.  It went on its golden way.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But we were not to linger for ever in these
+northern seas, surrounded by perpetual summer
+calms—however beautiful the prospect might
+be to a young man fallen away, for the moment,
+from his high ambitions.  Whatever summons
+from the far world might be awaiting us at
+Portree was soon to be served upon us.  In
+the afternoon a slight breeze sprung up that
+gently carried us away past Ru Hunish, and
+round by Eilean Trodda, and down by Altavaig.
+The grey-green basaltic cliffs of the Skye coast
+were now in shadow; but the strong sunlight
+beat on the grassy ledges above; and there
+was a distant roar of water along the rocks.
+This other throbbing sound, too: surely that
+must be some steamer far away on the other
+side of Rona?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The sunset deepened.  Darker and darker
+grew the shadows in the great mountains
+above us.  We heard the sea along the solitary
+shores.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The stars came out in the twilight: they
+seemed clearest just over the black mountains.
+In the silence there was the sound of a
+waterfall somewhere—in among those dark cliffs.
+Then our side-lights were put up; and we sate
+on deck; and Mary Avon, nestling close to her
+friend, was persuaded to sing for her</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Yestreen the Queen had four Maries</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>—just as if she had never heard the song
+before.  The hours went by; Angus Sutherland
+was talking in a slow, earnest, desultory
+fashion; and surely he must have been
+conscious that one heart there at least was eagerly
+and silently listening to him.  The dawn was
+near at hand when finally we consented to go
+below.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>What time of the morning was it that we
+heard John of Skye call out "</span><em class="italics">Six or seven
+fathoms 'll do?</em><span>"  We knew at least that we
+had got into harbour; and that the first golden
+glow of the daybreak was streaming through
+the skylights of the saloon.  We had returned
+from the wilds to the claims and the cares of
+civilisation; if there was any message to us, for
+good or for evil, from the distant world we had
+left for so long, it was now waiting for us on
+shore.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="evil-tidings"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">EVIL TIDINGS.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>We had indeed returned to the world: the
+first thing we saw on entering the saloon in
+the morning was a number of letters—actual
+letters, that had come through a post-office—lying
+on the breakfast-table.  We stared at
+these strange things.  Our good Queen T. was
+the first to approach them.  She took
+them up as if she expected they would bite her.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Mary," she says, "there is not one for
+you—not one."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Angus Sutherland glanced quickly at the
+girl.  But there was not the least trace of
+disappointment on her face.  On the contrary,
+she said, with a cheerful indifference—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So much the better.  They only bother people."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But of course they had to be opened and
+read—even the bulky parcel from Strathgovan.
+The only bit of intelligence that came from that
+quarter was to the effect that Tom Galbraith
+had been jilted by his lady-love; but as the
+rumour, it appeared, was in circulation among
+the Glasgow artists, the Laird instantly and
+indignantly refused to believe it.  Envy is the
+meanest of the passions; and we knew that the
+Glasgow artists could scarcely sleep in their
+bed at night for thinking of the great fame of
+Mr. Galbraith of Edinburgh.  However, amid
+all these letters one of us stumbled upon one
+little item that certainly concerned us.  It was
+a clipping from the advertisement column of a
+newspaper.  It was inclosed, without word or
+comment, by a friend in London who knew
+that we were slightly acquainted, perforce, with
+Mr. Frederick Smethurst.  And it appeared
+that that gentleman, having got into difficulties
+with his creditors, had taken himself off, in a
+surreptitious and evil manner, insomuch that this
+newspaper clipping was nothing more nor less
+than a hue and cry after the fraudulent bankrupt.
+That letter and its startling inclosure
+were quickly whipped into the pocket of the
+lady to whom they had been sent.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>By great good luck Mary Avon was the first
+to go on deck.  She was anxious to see this
+new harbour into which we had got.  And
+then, with considerable dismay on her face, our
+sovereign mistress showed us this ugly thing.
+She was much excited.  It was so shameful of
+him to bring this disgrace on Mary Avon!
+What would the poor girl say?  And this
+gentle lady would not for worlds have her told
+while she was with us—until at least we got
+back to some more definite channel of
+information.  She was, indeed, greatly distressed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But we had to order her to dismiss these idle
+troubles.  We formed ourselves into a
+committee on the spot; and this committee
+unanimously, if somewhat prematurely, and recklessly,
+resolved—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>First, that it was not of the slightest
+consequence to us or any human creature where
+Mr. Frederick Smethurst was, or what he
+might do with himself.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Secondly, that if Mr. Frederick Smethurst
+were to put a string and a stone round his neck
+and betake himself to the bottom of the sea, he
+would earn our gratitude and in some measure
+atone for his previous conduct.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Thirdly, that nothing at all about the matter
+should be said to Mary Avon: if the man had
+escaped, there might probably be an end of the
+whole business.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>To these resolutions, carried swiftly and
+unanimously, Angus Sutherland added a sort
+of desultory rider, to the effect that moral or
+immoral qualities do sometimes reveal
+themselves in the face.  He was also of opinion
+that spare persons were more easy of detection
+in this manner.  He gave an instance of a
+well-known character in London—a most
+promising ruffian who had run through the whole
+gamut of discreditable offences.  Why was
+there no record of this brave career written in
+the man's face?  Because nature had
+obliterated the lines in fat.  When a man attains
+to the dimensions and appearance of a
+scrofulous toad swollen to the size of an ox, moral
+and mental traces get rubbed out.  Therefore,
+contended our F.R.S., all persons who set out
+on a career of villany, and don't want to be
+found out, should eat fat-producing foods.
+Potatoes and sugar he especially mentioned as
+being calculated to conceal crime.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>However, we had to banish Frederick
+Smethurst and his evil deeds from our minds;
+for the yacht from end to end was in a bustle
+of commotion about our going ashore; and as
+for us—why, we meant to run riot in all the
+wonders and delights of civilisation.  Innumerable
+fowls, tons of potatoes and cabbage and
+lettuce, fresh butter, new loaves, new milk:
+there was no end to the visions that rose before
+the excited brain of our chief commissariat
+officer.  And when the Laird, in the act of
+stepping, with much dignity, into the gig,
+expressed his firm conviction that somewhere
+or other we should stumble upon a Glasgow
+newspaper not more than a week old, so that
+he might show us the reports of the meetings
+of the Strathgovan Commissioners, we knew of
+no further luxury that the mind could desire.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And as we were being rowed ashore, we
+could not fail to be struck by the extraordinary
+abundance of life and business and activity in
+the world.  Portree, with its wooded crags and
+white houses shining in the sun, seemed a large
+and populous city.  The smooth waters of the
+bay were crowded with craft of every
+description; and the boats of the yachts were coming
+and going with so many people on board of
+them that we were quite stared out of
+countenance.  And then, when we landed, and walked
+up the quay, and ascended the hill into the
+town, we regarded the signs over the
+shop-doors with the same curiosity that regards the
+commonest features of a foreign street.  There
+was a peculiarity about Portree, however, that
+is not met with in continental capitals.  We
+felt that the ground swayed lightly under our
+feet.  Perhaps these were the last oscillations
+of the great volcanic disturbance that shot the
+black Coolins into the sky.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then the shops: such displays of beautiful
+things, in silk, and wool, and cunning
+woodwork; human ingenuity declaring itself in a
+thousand ways, and appealing to our purses.
+Our purses, to tell the truth, were gaping.  A
+craving for purchase possessed us.  But, after
+all, the Laird could not buy servant girls'
+scarves as a present for Mary Avon; and Angus
+Sutherland did not need a second waterproof
+coat; and though we reached the telegraph
+office, there would have been a certain monotony
+in spending innumerable shillings on
+unnecessary telegrams, even though we might be
+rejoicing in one of the highest conveniences of
+civilisation.  The plain truth must be told.  Our
+purchases were limited to some tobacco and a
+box or two of paper collars for the men; to
+one or two shilling novels; and a flask of
+eau-de-Cologne.  We did not half avail ourselves
+of all the luxuries spread out so temptingly
+before us.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think the men will have the water
+on board yet?" Mary Avon says, as we walk
+back.  "I do not at all like being on land.
+The sun scorches so, and the air is stifling."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"In my opeenion," says the Laird, "the
+authorities of Portree are deserving of great
+credit for having fixed up the apparatus to let
+boats get water on board at the quay.  It was
+a public-spirited project—it was that.  And I
+do not suppose that any one grumbles at
+having to pay a shilling for the privilege.  It is a
+legeetimate tax.  I am sure it would have been
+a long time or we could have got such a thing
+at Strathgovan, if there was need for it there;
+ye would scarcely believe it, ma'am, what a
+spirit of opposition there is among some o' the
+Commissioners to any improvement, ye would
+not believe it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed," she says, in innocent wonder; she
+quite sympathises with this public-spirited
+reformer.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, it's true.  Mind ye, I am a Conservative
+myself; I will have nothing to do with
+Radicals and their Republics; no, no, but a
+wise Conservative knows how to march with
+the age.  Take my own poseetion: for
+example, as soon as I saw that the steam
+fire-engine was a necessity, I withdrew my
+opposition at once.  I am very thankful to you,
+ma'am, for having given me an opportunity of
+carefully considering the question.  I will never
+forget our trip round Mull.  Dear me! it is
+warm the day," added the Laird, as he raised
+his broad felt hat, and wiped his face with his
+voluminous silk handkerchief.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Here come two pedestrians—good-looking
+young lads of an obviously English type—and
+faultlessly equipped from head to heel.  They
+look neither to the left nor right; on they go
+manfully through the dust, the sun scorching
+their faces; there must be a trifle of heat
+under these knapsacks.  Well, we wish them
+fine weather and whole heels.  It is not the
+way some of us would like to pass a holiday.
+For what is this that Miss Avon is singing
+lightly to herself as she walks carelessly on,
+occasionally pausing to look in at a shop—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">And often have we seamen heard how men are killed or undone,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">By overturns of carriages, and thieves, and fires in London.</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Here she turns aside to caress a small terrier;
+but the animal, mistaking her intention, barks
+furiously, and retreats, growling and ferocious,
+into the shop.  Miss Avon is not disturbed.
+She walks on, and completes her nautical
+ballad—all for her own benefit—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">We've heard what risk all landsmen run, from noblemen to tailors,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">So, Billy, let's thank Providence that you and I are sailors!</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"What on earth is that, Mary?" her friend
+behind asks.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The girl stops with a surprised look, as if
+she had scarcely been listening to herself; then
+she says lightly:—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't you know the sailor's song—I
+forget what they call it:—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">A strong sou-wester's blowing, Billy, can't you hear it roar now,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Lord help 'em, how I pities all unhappy folks on shore now.</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"You have become a thorough sailor, Miss
+Avon," says Angus Sutherland, who has
+overheard the last quotation.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I like it better—I am more interested,"
+she says, timidly, "since you were so kind as
+to show me the working of the ship."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed," says he, "I wish you would take
+command of her, and order her present captain
+below.  Don't you see how tired his eyes are
+becoming?  He won't take his turn of sleep
+like the others; he has been scarcely off the
+deck night or day since we left Canna; and I
+find it is no use remonstrating with him.  He
+is too anxious; and he fancies I am in a hurry
+to get back; and these continual calms prevent
+his getting on.  Now the whole difficulty would
+be solved, if you let me go back by the steamer;
+then you could lie at Portree here for a night
+or two, and let him have some proper rest."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I do believe, Angus," says his hostess,
+laughing in her gentle way, "that you threaten
+to leave us just to see how anxious we are to
+keep you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My position as ship's doctor," he retorts,
+"is compromised.  If Captain John falls ill on
+my hands whom am I to blame but myself?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am quite sure I can get him to go below,"
+says Mary Avon, with decision—"quite sure of
+it.  That is, especially," she adds, rather shyly,
+"if you will take his place.  I know he would
+place more dependence on you than on any of
+the men."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This is a very pretty compliment to pay to
+one who is rather proud of his nautical knowledge.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he says, laughing, "the responsibility
+must rest on you.  Order him below,
+to-night, and see whether he obeys.  If we
+don't get to a proper anchorage, we will
+manage to sail the yacht somehow among
+us—you being captain, Miss Avon."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"If I am captain," she says, lightly—though
+she turns away her head somewhat,
+"I shall forbid your deserting the ship."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So long as you are captain, you need not fear
+that," he answers.  Surely he could say no less.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But it was still John of Skye who was
+skipper when, on getting under way, we nearly
+met with a serious accident.  Fresh water and
+all provisions having been got on board, we
+weighed anchor only to find the breeze die
+wholly down.  Then the dingay was got out to
+tow the yacht away from the sheltered harbour;
+and our young Doctor, always anxious for
+hard work, must needs jump in to join in this
+service.  But the little boat had been straining
+at the cable for scarcely five minutes when a
+squall of wind came over from the north-west
+and suddenly filled the sails.  "Look out there,
+boys!" called Captain John, for we were
+running full down on the dingay.  "Let go the
+rope!  Let go!" he shouted: but they would
+not let go, as the dingay came sweeping by.
+In fact, she caught the yacht just below the
+quarter, and seemed to disappear altogether.
+Mary Avon uttered one brief cry; and then
+stood pale—clasping one of the ropes—not
+daring to look.  And John of Skye uttered
+some exclamation in the Gaelic; and jumped
+on to the taffrail.  But the next thing we saw,
+just above the taffrail, was the red and shining
+and laughing face of Angus Sutherland, who
+was hoisting himself up by means of the mizen
+boom; and directly afterwards appeared the
+scarlet cap of Hector of Moidart.  It was
+upon this latter culprit that the full force of
+John of Skye's wrath was expended.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you not let go the rope when I
+wass call to you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is all right, and if I wass put into the
+water, I have been in the water before," was
+the philosophic reply.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And now it was, as we drew away from
+Portree, that Captain Mary Avon endeavoured
+to assume supreme command and would have
+the deposed skipper go below and sleep.  John
+of Skye was very obedient, but he said:—"Oh,
+ay.  I will get plenty of sleep.  But that
+hill there, that is Ben Inivaig; and there is not
+any hill in the West Highlands so bad for
+squalls as that hill.  By and by I will get
+plenty of sleep."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Ben Inivaig let us go past its great, gloomy,
+forbidding shoulders and cliffs without visiting
+us with anything worse than a few variable
+puffs; and we got well down into the Raasay
+Narrows.  What a picture of still summer
+loveliness was around us!—the rippling blue
+seas, the green shores, and far over these the
+black peaks of the Coolins now taking a purple
+tint in the glow of the afternoon.  The shallow
+Sound of Scalpa we did not venture to attack,
+especially as it was now low water; we went
+outside Scalpa, by the rocks of Skier Dearg.
+And still John of Skye evaded, with a gentle
+Highland courtesy, the orders of the captain.
+The silver bell of Master Fred summoned us
+below for dinner, and still John of Skye was
+gently obdurate.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, John," says Mary Avon, seriously, to
+him, "you want to make me angry."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, mem; I not think that," says he,
+deprecatingly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why won't you go and have some
+sleep?  Do you want to be ill?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there iss plenty of sleep," says he.
+"Maybe we will get to Kyle Akin to-night;
+and there will be plenty of sleep for us."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But I am asking you as a favour to go and
+get some sleep </span><em class="italics">now</em><span>.  Surely the men can take
+charge of the yacht!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, oh, yes!" says John of Skye.
+"They can do that ferry well."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And then he paused—for he was great
+friends with this young lady, and did not like
+to disoblige her.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You will be having your dinner now.
+After the dinner, if Mr. Sutherland himself
+will be on deck, I will go below and turn in
+for a time."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course Dr. Sutherland will be on deck,"
+says the new captain, promptly; and she was so
+sure of one member of her crew that she added,
+"and he will not leave the tiller for a moment
+until you come to relieve him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps it was this promise—perhaps it was
+the wonderful beauty of the evening—that
+made us hurry over dinner.  Then we went
+on deck again; and our young Doctor, having
+got all his bearings and directions clear in his
+head, took the tiller, and John of Skye at length
+succumbed to the authority of Commander
+Avon and disappeared into the forecastle.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The splendour of colour around us on that
+still evening!—away in the west the sea of
+a pale yellow green, with each ripple a flash
+of rose-flame, and over there in the south
+the great mountains of Skye—the Coolins,
+Blaven, and Ben-na-Cailleach—become of a
+plum-purple in the clear and cloudless sky.
+Angus Sutherland was at the tiller contemplatively
+smoking an almost black meerschaum;
+the Laird was discoursing to us about the
+extraordinary pith and conciseness of the Scotch
+phrases in the Northumbrian Psalter; while
+ever and anon a certain young lady, linked
+arm-in-arm with her friend, would break the
+silence with some aimless fragment of ballad
+or old-world air.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And still we glided onwards in the beautiful
+evening; and now ahead of us in the dusk
+of the evening, the red star of Kyle Akin
+lighthouse steadily gleamed.  We might get
+to anchor, after all, without awaking John of
+Skye.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"In weather like this," remarked our
+sovereign lady, "in the gathering darkness,
+John might keep asleep for fifty years."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Like Rip Van Winkle," said the Laird,
+proud of his erudition.  "That is a wonderful
+story that Washington Irving wrote—a verra
+fine story."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Washington Irving!—the story is as old
+as the Coolins," says Dr. Sutherland.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird stared as if he had been Rip Van
+Winkle himself: was he for ever to be
+checkmated by the encyclopædic knowledge of
+Young England—or Young Scotland rather—and
+that knowledge only the gatherings and
+sweepings of musty books that anybody with
+a parrot-like habit might acquire?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, surely you know that the legend
+belongs to that common stock of legends that
+go through all literatures?" says our young
+Doctor.  "I have no doubt the Hindoos have
+their Epimenides; and that Peter Klaus turns
+up somewhere or other in the Gaelic stories.
+However, that is of little importance; it is
+of importance that Captain John should get
+some sleep.  Hector, come here!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was a brief consultation about the
+length of anchor-chain wanted for the little
+harbour opposite Kyle Akin; Hector's instructions
+were on no account to disturb John of
+Skye.  But no sooner had they set about
+getting the chain on deck than another figure
+appeared, black among the rigging; and there
+was a well-known voice heard forward.  Then
+Captain John came aft, and, despite all
+remonstrances, would relieve his substitute.  Rip
+Van Winkle's sleep had lasted about an hour
+and a half.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And now we steal by the black shores; and
+that solitary red star comes nearer and nearer
+in the dusk; and at length we can make out
+two or three other paler lights close down by
+the water.  Behold! the yellow ports of a
+steam-yacht at anchor; we know, as our own
+anchor goes rattling out in the dark, that
+we shall have at least one neighbour and
+companion through the still watches of the
+night.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="temptation"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">TEMPTATION.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>But the night, according to John of Skye's
+chronology, lasts only until the tide turns or
+until a breeze springs up.  Long before the
+wan glare in the east has arisen to touch the
+highest peaks of the Coolins, we hear the
+tread of the men on deck getting the yacht
+under way.  And then there is a shuffling
+noise in Angus Sutherland's cabin; and we
+guess that he is stealthily dressing in the
+dark.  Is he anxious to behold the wonders
+of daybreak in the beautiful Loch Alsh, or
+is he bound to take his share in the sailing
+of the ship?  Less perturbed spirits sink back
+again into sleep, and contentedly let the </span><em class="italics">White
+Dove</em><span> go on her own way through the expanding
+blue-grey light of the dawn.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Hours afterwards there is a strident shouting
+down the companion-way; everybody is
+summoned on deck to watch the yacht shoot the
+Narrows of Kyle Rhea.  And the Laird is
+the first to express his surprise: are these the
+dreaded Narrows that have caused Captain
+John to start before daybreak so as to shoot
+them with the tide?  All around is a dream
+of summer beauty and quiet.  A more perfect
+picture of peace and loveliness could not be
+imagined than the green crags of the mainland,
+and the vast hills of Skye, and this placid
+channel between shining in the fair light of
+the morning.  The only thing we notice is
+that on the glassy green of the water—this
+reflected, deep, almost opaque green is not
+unlike the colour of Niagara below the
+Falls—there are smooth circular lines here and
+there; and now and again the bows of the
+</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> slowly swerve away from her
+course as if in obedience to some unseen and
+mysterious pressure.  There is not a breath
+of wind; and it needs all the pulling of the
+two men out there in the dingay and all the
+watchful steering of Captain John to keep her
+head straight.  Then a light breeze comes
+along the great gully; the red-capped men
+are summoned on board; the dingay is left
+astern; the danger of being caught in an
+eddy and swirled ashore is over and gone.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the yacht stops as if she had run
+against a wall.  Then, just as she recovers,
+there is an extraordinary hissing and roaring
+in the dead silence around us, and close by
+the yacht we find a great circle of boiling
+and foaming water, forced up from below and
+overlapping itself in ever-increasing folds.  And
+then, on the perfectly glassy sea, another and
+another of those boiling and hissing circles
+appears, until there is a low rumbling in the
+summer air like the breaking of distant waves.
+And the yacht—the wind having again died
+down—is curiously compelled one way and then
+another, insomuch that John of Skye quickly
+orders the men out in the dingay again; and
+once more the long cable is tugging at her bows.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems to me," says Dr. Sutherland to our
+skipper, "that we are in the middle of about a
+thousand whirlpools."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it iss ferry quate this morning," says
+Captain John, with a shrewd smile.  "It iss not
+often so quate as this.  Ay, it iss sometimes
+ferry bad here—quite so bad as Corrievreckan;
+and when the flood-tide is rinnin, it will be
+rinnin like—shist like a race-horse."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>However, by dint of much hard pulling, and
+judicious steering, we manage to keep the
+</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> pretty well in mid-current; and
+only once—and that but for a second or two—get
+caught in one of those eddies circling in to
+the shore.  We pass the white ferry-house; a
+slight breeze carries us by the green shores
+and woods of Glenelg; we open out the
+wider sea between Isle Ornsay and Loch
+Hourn; and then a silver tinkle tells us
+breakfast is ready.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>That long, beautiful, calm summer day:
+Ferdinand and Miranda playing draughts on
+deck—he having rigged up an umbrella to
+shelter her from the hot sun; the Laird busy
+with papers referring to the Strathgovan Public
+Park; the hostess of these people overhauling
+the stores and meditating on something recondite
+for dinner.  At last the Doctor fairly burst
+out a-laughing.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said he, "I have been in many a
+yacht; but never yet in one where everybody
+on board was anxiously waiting for the glass
+to fall."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His hostess laughed too.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"When you come south again," she said,
+"we may be able to give you a touch of
+something different.  I think that, even with all
+your love of gales, a few days of the equinoctials
+would quite satisfy you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The equinoctials!" he said, with a surprised look.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said she boldly.  "Why not have a
+good holiday while you are about it?  And a
+yachting trip is nothing without a fight with the
+equinoctials.  Oh, you have no idea how
+splendidly the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> behaves!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to try her," he said, with a
+quick delight; but directly afterwards he
+ruefully shook his head.  "No, no," said he, "such
+a tremendous spell of idleness is not for me.
+I have not earned the right to it yet.  Twenty
+years hence I may be able to have three months'
+continued yachting in the West Highlands."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"If I were you," retorted this small person,
+with a practical air, "I would take it when I
+could get it.  What do you know about twenty
+years hence?—you may be physician to the
+Emperor of China.  And you have worked
+very hard; and you ought to take as long a
+holiday as you can get."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure," says Mary Avon very timidly,
+"that is very wise advice."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"In the meantime," says he, cheerfully, "I
+am not physician to the Emperor of China, but
+to the passengers and crew of the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>.
+The passengers don't do me the honour of
+consulting me; but I am going to prescribe for
+the crew on my own responsibility.  All I want
+is, that I shall have the assistance of Miss
+Avon in making them take the dose."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Avon looked up inquiringly with the
+soft black eyes of her.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody has any control over them but
+herself—they are like refractory children.
+Now," said he, rather more seriously, "this
+night-and-day work is telling on the men.
+Another week of it and you would see </span><em class="italics">Insomnia</em><span>
+written in large letters on their eyes.  I want
+you, Miss Avon, to get Captain John and the
+men to have a complete night's rest to-night—a
+sound night's sleep from the time we finish
+dinner till daybreak.  We can take charge of the yacht."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Avon promptly rose to her feet.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"John!" she called.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The big brown-bearded skipper from Skye
+came aft—putting his pipe in his
+waistcoat-pocket the while.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"John," she said, "I want you to do me a
+favour now.  You and the men have not been
+having enough sleep lately.  You must all go
+below to-night as soon as we come up from
+dinner; and you must have a good sleep till
+daybreak.  The gentlemen will take charge of
+the yacht."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was in vain that John of Skye protested
+he was not tired.  It was in vain that he
+assured her that, if a good breeze sprung up,
+we might get right back to Castle Osprey by
+the next morning.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you know very well," she said, "this
+calm weather means to last for ever."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no!  I not think that, mem," said John
+of Skye, smiling.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"At all events we shall be sailing all night;
+and that is what I want you to do, as a favour
+to me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Indeed, our skipper found it was of no use to
+refuse.  The young lady was peremptory.  And
+so, having settled that matter, she sate down to
+her draught-board again.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But it was the Laird she was playing with
+now.  And this was a remarkable circumstance
+about the game: when Angus Sutherland
+played with Denny-mains, the latter was
+hopelessly and invariably beaten; and when
+Denny-mains in his turn played with Mary Avon, he
+was relentlessly and triumphantly the victor;
+but when Angus Sutherland played with
+Miss Avon, she, somehow or other, generally
+managed to secure two out of three games.  It
+was a puzzling triangular duel: the chief
+feature of it was the splendid joy of the Laird
+when he had conquered the English young
+lady.  He rubbed his hands, he chuckled, he
+laughed—just as if he had been repeating one
+of his own "good ones."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>However, at luncheon the Laird was much
+more serious; for he was showing to us how
+remiss the Government was in not taking up
+the great solan question.  He had a newspaper
+cutting which gave in figures—in rows of
+figures—the probable number of millions of
+herrings destroyed every year by the
+solan-geese.  The injuries done to the
+herring-fisheries of this country, he proved to us, was
+enormous.  If a solan is known to eat on an
+average fifty herrings a day, just think of the
+millions on millions of fish that must go to feed
+those nests on the Bass Rock!  The Laird
+waxed quite eloquent about it.  The human
+race were dearer to him far than any gannet or
+family of gannets.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What I wonder at is this," said our young
+Doctor with a curious grim smile, that we had
+learned to know, coming over his face, "that
+the solan, with that extraordinary supply of
+phosphorus to the brain, should have gone
+on remaining only a bird, and a very ordinary
+bird, too.  Its brain-power should have been
+developed; it should be able to speak by this
+time.  In fact, there ought to be solan
+schoolboards and parochial boards on the Bass
+Rock; and commissioners appointed to
+inquire whether the building of nests might
+not be conducted on more scientific principles.
+When I was a boy—I am sorry to say—I
+used often to catch a solan by floating out
+a piece of wood with a dead herring on it: a
+wise bird, with its brain full of phosphorus, ought
+to have known that it would break its head
+when it swooped down on a piece of wood."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird sate in dignified silence.  There
+was something occult and uncanny about many
+of this young man's sayings—they savoured
+too much of the dangerous and unsettling
+tendencies of these modern days.  Besides, he
+did not see what good could come of likening
+a lot of solan-geese to the Commissioners of
+the Burgh of Strathgovan.  His remarks on the
+herring-fisheries had been practical and
+intelligible; they had given no occasion for jibes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We were suddenly startled by the rattling
+out of the anchor-chain.  What could it
+mean?—were we caught in an eddy?  There was
+a scurrying up on deck, only to find that,
+having drifted so far south with the tide, and
+the tide beginning to turn, John of Skye
+proposed to secure what advantage we had gained
+by coming to anchor.  There was a sort of
+shamed laughter over this business.  Was the
+noble </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> only a river barge, then, that
+she was thus dependent on the tides for her
+progress?  But it was no use either to laugh
+or to grumble; two of us proposed to row the
+Laird away to certain distant islands that lie
+off the shore north of the mouth of Loch
+Hourn; and for amusement's sake we took
+some towels with us.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Look now how this long and shapely gig
+cuts the blue water.  The Laird is very
+dignified in the stern, with the tiller-ropes in
+his hand; he keeps a straight course
+enough—though he is mostly looking over the side.
+And, indeed, this is a perfect wonder-hall over
+which we are making our way—the water so
+clear that we notice the fish darting here and
+there among the great brown blades of the
+tangle and the long green sea-grass.  Then
+there are stretches of yellow sand, with shells
+and star-fish shining far below.  The sun
+burns on our hands; there is a dead
+stillness of heat; the measured splash of the
+oars startles the sea-birds in there among
+the rocks.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Send the biorlinn on careering,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Cheerily and all together,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together!</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Look out for the shallows, most dignified of
+coxswains: what if we were to imbed her
+bows in the silver sand?—</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Another cheer!  Our isle appears—</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Our biorlinn bears her on the faster!</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long strong pull together!</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Hold hard!" calls Denny-mains; and
+behold! we are in among a network of channels
+and small islands lying out here in the calm
+sea; and the birds are wildly calling and
+screaming and swooping about our heads,
+indignant at the approach of strangers.  What
+is our first duty, then, in coming to these
+unknown islands and straits?—why, surely,
+to name them in the interests of civilisation.
+And we do so accordingly.  Here—let it be
+for ever known—is John Smith Bay.  There,
+Thorley's Food for Cattle Island.  Beyond
+that, on the south, Brown and Poison's Straits.
+It is quite true that these islands and bays
+may have been previously visited; but it was
+no doubt a long time ago; and the people
+did not stop to bestow names.  The latitude
+and longitude may be dealt with afterwards;
+meanwhile the discoverers unanimously resolve
+that the most beautiful of all the islands shall
+hereafter, through all time, be known as the
+Island of Mary Avon.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was on this island that the Laird achieved
+his memorable capture of a young sea-bird—a
+huge creature of unknown species that
+fluttered and scrambled over bush and over
+scaur, while Denny-mains, quite forgetting his
+dignity and the heat of the sun, clambered
+after it over the rocks.  And when he got
+it in his hands, it lay as one dead.  He was
+sorry.  He regarded the newly-fledged thing
+with compassion; and laid it tenderly down
+on the grass; and came away down again to
+the shore.  But he had scarcely turned his
+back when the demon bird got on its legs,
+and—with a succession of shrill and sarcastic
+"yawps"—was off and away over the higher
+ledges.  No fasting girl had ever shammed
+so completely as this scarcely-fledged bird.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We bathed in Brown and Poison's Straits,
+to the great distress of certain sea-pyots that
+kept screaming over our heads, resenting the
+intrusion of the discoverers.  But in the midst
+of it, we were suddenly called to observe a
+strange darkness on the sea, far away in the
+north, between Glenelg and Skye.  Behold! the
+long-looked-for wind—a hurricane swooping
+down from the northern hills!  Our toilette
+on the hot rocks was of brief duration; we
+jumped into the gig; away we went through
+the glassy water!  It was a race between us
+and the northerly breeze which should reach
+the yacht first; and we could see that John
+of Skye had remarked the coming wind, for
+the men were hoisting the fore-staysail.  The
+dark blue on the water spreads; the reflections
+of the hills and the clouds gradually disappear;
+as we clamber on board the first puffs of the
+breeze are touching the great sails.  The
+anchor has just been got up; the gig is hoisted
+to the davits; slack out the main sheet, you
+shifty Hector, and let the great boom go out!
+Nor is it any mere squall that has come down
+from the hills; but a fine, steady, northerly
+breeze; and away we go with the white foam
+in our wake.  Farewell to the great mountains
+over the gloomy Loch Hourn; and to the
+lighthouse over there at Isle Ornsay; and to
+the giant shoulders of Ard-na-Glishnich.  Are
+not these the dark green woods of Armadale
+that we see in the west?  And southward,
+and still southward we go with the running
+seas and the fresh brisk breeze from the
+north: who knows where we may not be tonight
+before Angus Sutherland's watch begins?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There is but one thoughtful face on board.
+It is that of Mary Avon.  For the moment, at
+least, she seems scarcely to rejoice that we have
+at last got this grateful wind to bear us away to
+the south and to Castle Osprey.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="through-the-dark"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THROUGH THE DARK.</span></p>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">Ahead she goes! the land she knows!</em></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>What though we see a sudden squall
+come tearing over from the shores of Skye,
+whitening the waves as it approaches us?  The
+</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> is not afraid of any squall.  And
+there are the green woods of Armadale, dusky
+under the western glow; and here the sombre
+heights of Dun Bane; and soon we will open
+out the great gap of Loch Nevis.  We are
+running with the running waves; a general
+excitement prevails; even the Laird has
+dismissed for the moment certain dark suspicions
+about Frederick Smethurst that have for the
+last day or two been haunting his mind.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And here is a fine sight!—the great steamer
+coming down from the north—and the sunset is
+burning on her red funnels—and behold! she
+has a line of flags from her stem to her
+top-masts and down to her stern again.  Who is
+on board?—some great laird, or some gay
+wedding-party?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now is your chance, Angus," says Queen
+T., almost maliciously, as the steamer slowly
+gains on us.  "If you want to go on at once, I
+know the captain would stop for a minute and
+pick you up."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her for a second in a quick,
+hurt way; then he saw that she was only
+laughing at him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, thank you," he said, blushing like a
+schoolboy; "unless you want to get rid of me.
+I have been looking forward to sailing the
+yacht to-night."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And—and you said," remarked Miss Avon,
+rather timidly, "that we should challenge them
+again after dinner this evening."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This was a pretty combination: "we"
+referred to Angus Sutherland and herself.  Her
+elders were disrespectfully described as
+"them."  So the younger people had not forgotten how
+they were beaten by "them" on the previous
+evening.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Is there a sound of pipes amid the throbbing
+of the paddles?  What a crowd of people
+swarm to the side of the great vessel!  And
+there is the captain on the paddle-box—out all
+handkerchiefs to return the innumerable
+salutations—and good-bye, you brave Glencoe!—you
+have no need to rob us of any one of our
+passengers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Where does the breeze come from on this
+still evening?—there is not a cloud in the sky,
+and there is a drowsy haze of heat all along the
+land.  But nevertheless it continues; and, as
+the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> cleaves her way through the
+tumbling sea, we gradually draw on to the
+Point of Sleat, and open out the great plain of
+the Atlantic, now a golden green, where the
+tops of the waves catch the light of the sunset
+skies.  And there, too, are our old friends
+Haleval and Haskeval; but they are so far
+away, and set amid such a bewildering light,
+that the whole island seems to be of a pale
+transparent rose-purple.  And a still stranger
+thing now attracts the eyes of all on board.
+The setting sun, as it nears the horizon-line of
+the sea, appears to be assuming a distinctly
+oblong shape.  It is slowly sinking into a
+purple haze, and becomes more and more oblong
+as it nears the sea.  There is a call for all the
+glasses hung up in the companion-way; and
+now what is it that we find out there by the aid
+of the various binoculars?  Why, apparently,
+a wall of purple; and there is an oblong hole
+in it, with a fire of gold light far away on the
+other side.  This apparent golden tunnel
+through the haze grows redder and more red;
+it becomes more and more elongated; then it
+burns a deeper crimson until it is almost a line.
+The next moment there is a sort of shock to
+the eyes; for there is a sudden darkness
+all along the horizon-line: the purple-black
+Atlantic is barred against that lurid haze low
+down in the west.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was a merry enough dinner-party: perhaps
+it was the consciousness that the </span><em class="italics">White
+Dove</em><span> was still bowling along that brightened
+up our spirits, and made the Laird of
+Denny-mains more particularly loquacious.  The
+number of good ones that he told us was quite
+remarkable—until his laughter might have
+been heard through the whole ship.  And to
+whom now did he devote the narration
+of those merry anecdotes—to whom but Miss
+Mary Avon, who was his ready chorus on all
+occasions, and who entered with a greater zest
+than any one into the humours of them.  Had
+she been studying the Lowland dialect, then,
+that she understood and laughed so lightly and
+joyously at stories about a thousand years
+of age?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, ay," the Laird was saying patronisingly
+to her, "I see ye can enter into the peculiar
+humour of our Scotch stories; it is not every
+English person that can do that.  And ye
+understand the language fine....  Well," he
+added, with an air of modest apology, "perhaps
+I do not give the pronunciation as broad as I
+might.  I have got out of the way of talking
+the provincial Scotch since I was a
+boy—indeed, ah'm generally taken for an Englishman
+maself—but I do my best to give ye the speerit
+of it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I am sure your imitation of the
+provincial Scotch is most excellent—most
+excellent—and it adds so much to the humour of the
+stories," says this disgraceful young hypocrite.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, ay, oh, ay," says the Laird, greatly
+delighted.  "I will admit that some o' the
+stories would not have so much humour but for
+the language.  But when ye have both!  Did
+ye ever hear of the laddie who was called in to
+his porridge by his mother?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We perceived by the twinkle in the Laird's
+eyes that a real good one was coming.  He
+looked round to see that we were listening, but
+it was Mary Avon whom he addressed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A grumbling bit laddie—a philosopher,
+too," said he.  "His mother thought he would
+come in the quicker if he knew there was a fly
+in the milk.  '</span><em class="italics">Johnny</em><span>,' she cried out, '</span><em class="italics">Johnny,
+come in to your parritch; there's a flee in the
+milk.</em><span>'  '</span><em class="italics">It'll no droon,</em><span>' says he.  '</span><em class="italics">What!</em><span>' she
+says, '</span><em class="italics">grumblin again?  Do ye think there's no
+enough milk?'  'Plenty for the parritch</em><span>,' says
+he—</span><em class="italics">kee! kee! kee!</em><span>—sharp, eh, wasn't eh?—'</span><em class="italics">Plenty
+for the parritch</em><span>,' says he—ha! ha! ho! ho! ho!"—and
+the Laird slapped his thigh,
+and chuckled to himself.  "Oh, ay, Miss Mary,"
+he added, approvingly, "I see you are beginning
+to understand the Scotch humour fine."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And if our good friend the Laird had been
+but twenty years younger—with his battery of
+irresistible jokes, and his great and obvious
+affection for this stray guest of ours, to say
+nothing of his dignity and importance as a
+Commissioner of Strathgovan?  What chance
+would a poor Scotch student have had, with his
+test-tubes and his scientific magazines, his
+restless, audacious speculations and eager
+ambitions?  On the one side, wealth, ease, a pleasant
+facetiousness, and a comfortable acceptance of
+the obvious facts of the universe—including
+water-rates and steam fire-engines; on the
+other, poverty, unrest, the physical struggle
+for existence, the mental struggle with the
+mysteries of life: who could doubt what the
+choice would be?  However, there was no
+thought of this rivalry now.  The Laird had
+abdicated in favour of his nephew, Howard,
+about whom he had been speaking a good deal
+to Mary Avon of late.  And Angus—though
+he was always very kind and timidly attentive
+to Miss Avon—seemed nevertheless at times
+almost a little afraid of her; or perhaps it was
+only a vein of shyness that cropped up from
+time to time through his hard mental
+characteristics.  In any case, he was at this moment
+neither the shy lover nor the eager student; he
+was full of the prospect of having sole command
+of the ship during a long night on the Atlantic,
+and he hurried us up on deck after dinner
+without a word about that return-battle at bezique.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The night had come on apace, though there
+was still a ruddy mist about the northern skies,
+behind the dusky purple of the Coolin hills.
+The stars were out overhead; the air around
+us was full of the soft cries of the divers;
+occasionally, amid the lapping of the water, we
+could hear some whirring by of wings.  Then
+the red port light and the green starboard light
+were brought up from the forecastle, and fixed
+in their place; the men went below; Angus
+Sutherland took the tiller; the Laird kept
+walking backwards and forwards as a sort of
+look-out; and the two women were as usual
+seated on rugs together in some invisible
+corner—crooning snatches of ballads, or making
+impertinent remarks about people much wiser
+and older than themselves.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Angus," says the voice of one of
+them—apparently from somewhere about the
+companion, "show us that you can sail the
+yacht properly, and we will give you complete
+command during the equinoctials."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You speak of the equinoctials," said he,
+laughing, "as if it was quite settled I should be
+here in September."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" said she, promptly.  "Mary is
+my witness you promised.  You wouldn't go
+and desert two poor lone women?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But I have got that most uncomfortable
+thing, a conscience," he answered; "and I
+know it would stare at me as if I were mad if I
+proposed to spend such a long time in idleness.
+It would be outraging all my theories, besides.
+You know, for years and years back I have
+been limiting myself in every way—living, for
+example, on the smallest allowance of food and
+drink, and that of the simplest and cheapest—so
+that if any need arose, I should have no
+luxurious habits to abandon——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But what possible need can there be?" said
+Mary Avon, warmly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you expect to spend your life in a jail?"
+said the other woman.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said he, quite simply.  "But I will
+give you an instance of what a man who
+devotes himself to his profession may have to
+do.  A friend of mine, who is one of the highest
+living authorities on </span><em class="italics">Materia Medica</em><span>, refused
+all invitations for three months, and during the
+whole of that time lived each day on precisely
+the same food and drink, weighed out in exact
+quantities, so as to determine the effect of
+particular drugs on himself.  Well, you know,
+you should be ready to do that——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how wrong you are!" says Mary Avon,
+with the same impetuosity.  "A man who
+works as hard as you do should not sacrifice
+yourself to a theory.  And what is it?  It is
+quite foolish!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mary!" her friend says.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is," she says, with generous warmth.  "It
+is like a man who goes through life with a
+coffin on his back, so that he may be ready for
+death.  Don't you think that when death
+comes it will be time enough to be getting the coffin?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This was a poser.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You know quite well," she says, "that when
+the real occasion offered, like the one you
+describe, you could deny yourself any luxuries
+readily enough; why should you do so now?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At this there was a gentle sound of laughter.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Luxuries—the luxuries of the </span><em class="italics">White
+Dove</em><span>!" says her hostess, mindful of tinned
+meats.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed," says our young Doctor,
+though he is laughing too.  "There is far too
+much luxury—the luxury of idleness—on board
+this yacht to be wholesome for one like me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps you object to the effeminacy of the
+downy couches and the feather pillows," says
+his hostess, who is always grumbling about the
+hardness of the beds.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But it appears that she has made an exceedingly
+bad shot.  The man at the wheel—one
+can just make out his dark figure against the
+clear starlit heavens, though occasionally he
+gets before the yellow light of the binnacle—proceeds
+to assure her that, of all the luxuries
+of civilisation, he appreciates most a horse-hair
+pillow; and that he attributes his sound sleeping
+on board the yacht to the hardness of the
+beds.  He would rather lay his head on a
+brick, he says, for a night's rest than sink it in
+the softest feathers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you wonder," he says, "that Jacob
+dreamed of angels when he had a stone for his
+pillow?  I don't.  If I wanted to have a
+pleasant sleep and fine dreams that is the sort of
+pillow I should have."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Some phrase of this catches the ear of our
+look-out forward; he instantly comes aft.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is a singular piece of testimony," he
+says.  "There is no doubt of it; I have myself
+seen the very place."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>We were not startled; we knew that the
+Laird, under the guidance of a well-known
+Free Church minister, had made a run through
+Palestine.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay," said he, "the further I went away
+from my own country the more I saw nothing
+but decadence and meesery.  The poor
+craytures!—living among ruins, and tombs, and
+decay, without a trace of public spirit or private
+energy.  The disregard of sanitary laws was
+something terrible to look at—as bad as their
+universal beggary.  That is what comes of
+centralisation, of suppressing local government.
+Would ye believe that there are a lot of silly
+bodies actually working to get our Burgh of
+Strathgovan annexed to Glasgow—swallowed
+up in Glasgow!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Impossible!" we exclaim.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell ye it is true.  But no, no!  We are
+not ripe yet for those Radical measures.  We
+are constituted under an Act of Parliament.
+Before the House of Commons would dare to
+annex the free and flourishing Burgh of Strathgovan
+to Glasgow, I'm thinking the country far
+and near would hear something of it!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Yes; and we think so, too.  And we think
+it would be better if the hamlets and towns of
+Palestine were governed by men of public
+spirit like the Commissioners of Strathgovan;
+then they would be properly looked after.  Is
+there a single steam fire-engine in Jericho?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>However, it is late; and presently the
+women say good-night and retire.  And the
+Laird is persuaded to go below with them also;
+for how otherwise could he have his final glass
+of toddy in the saloon?  There are but two of
+us left on deck, in the darkness, under the stars.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It is a beautiful night, with those white and
+quivering points overhead, and the other white
+and burning points gleaming on the black
+waves that whirl by the yacht.  Beyond the
+heaving plain of waters there is nothing visible
+but the dusky gloom of the Island of Eigg, and
+away in the south the golden eye of Ardnamurchan
+lighthouse, for which we are steering.
+Then the intense silence—broken only when
+the wind, changing a little, gybes the sails and
+sends the great boom swinging over on to the
+lee tackle.  It is so still that we are startled by
+the sudden noise of the blowing of a whale;
+and it sounds quite close to the yacht, though
+it is more likely that the animal is miles away.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"She is a wonderful creature—she is indeed,"
+says the man at the wheel; as if every one
+must necessarily be thinking about the same
+person.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your young English friend.  Every minute
+of her life seems to be an enjoyment to her;
+she sings just as a bird sings, for her own
+amusement, and without thinking."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"She can think, too; she is not a fool."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Though she does not look very strong,"
+continues the young Doctor, "she must have
+a thoroughly healthy constitution, or how could
+she have such a happy disposition?  She is
+always contented; she is never put out.  If
+you had only seen her patience and cheerfulness
+when she was attending that old woman—many
+a time I regretted it—the case was
+hopeless—a hired nurse would have done
+as well."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hiring a nurse might not have satisfied
+the young lady's notions of duty."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I've seen women in sick-rooms, but
+never any one like her," said he, and then he
+added, with a sort of emphatic wonder, "I'm
+hanged if she did not seem to enjoy that, too!
+Then you never saw any one so particular
+about following out instructions."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It is here suggested to our steersman that
+he himself may be a little too particular about
+following out instructions.  For John of Skye's
+last counsel was to keep Ardnamurchan light
+on our port bow.  That was all very well when
+we were off the north of Eigg; but is
+Dr. Sutherland aware that the south point of
+Eigg—Eilean-na-Castle—juts pretty far out; and is
+not that black line of land coming uncommonly
+close on our starboard bow?  With some
+reluctance our new skipper consents to alter his
+course by a couple of points; and we bear
+away down for Ardnamurchan.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And of what did he not talk during the long
+starlit night—the person who ought to have
+been lookout sitting contentedly aft, a mute
+listener?—of the strange fears that must have
+beset the people who first adventured out to sea;
+of the vast expenditure of human life that must
+have been thrown away in the discovery of
+the most common facts about currents and
+tides and rocks; and so forth, and so forth.
+But ever and again his talk returned to
+Mary Avon.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What does the Laird mean by his
+suspicions about her uncle?" he asked on one
+occasion—just as we had been watching a
+blue-white bolt flash down through the serene
+heavens and expire in mid-air.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Frederick Smethurst has an ugly face."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But what does he mean about those relations
+between the man with the ugly face and
+his niece?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is idle speculation.  Frederick
+Smethurst was her trustee, and might have done her
+some mischief—that is, if he is an out-and-out
+scoundrel; but that is all over.  Mary is
+mistress of her own property now."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Here the boom came slowly swinging over;
+and presently there were all the sheets of the
+head-sails to be looked after—tedious work
+enough for amateurs in the darkness of the
+night.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then further silence; and the monotonous
+rush and murmur of the unseen sea; and the
+dark topmast describing circles among the stars.
+We get up one of the glasses to make astronomical
+observations, but the heaving of the boat
+somewhat interferes with this quest after
+knowledge.  Whoever wants to have a good idea of
+forked lightning has only to take up a binocular
+on board a pitching yacht, and try to fix it on
+a particular planet.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The calm, solemn night passes slowly; the
+red and green lights shine on the black
+rigging; afar in the south burns the guiding star
+of Ardnamurchan.  And we have drawn away
+from Eigg now, and passed the open sound;
+and there, beyond the murmuring sea, is the
+doom of the Island of Muick.  All the people
+below are wrapped in slumber; the cabins are
+dark; there is only a solitary candle burning in
+the saloon.  It is a strange thing to be
+responsible for the lives of those sleeping
+folk—out here on the lone Atlantic, in the stillness
+of the night.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Our young Doctor bears his responsibility
+lightly.  He has—for a wonder—laid aside his
+pipe; and he is humming a song that he has
+heard Mary Avon singing of late—something
+about</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>O think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa',</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For I'll come and see ye in spite o' them a',</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>and he is wishing the breeze would blow a bit
+harder—and wondering whether the wind will
+die away altogether when we get under the lee
+of Ardnamurchan Point.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But long before we have got down to Ardnamurchan,
+there is a pale grey light beginning to
+tell in the eastern skies; and the stars are
+growing fainter; and the black line of the land
+is growing clearer above the wrestling seas.  Is
+it a fancy that the first light airs of the morning
+are a trifle cold?  And then we suddenly see,
+among the dark rigging forward, one or two
+black figures; and presently John of Skye
+comes aft, rubbing his eyes.  He has had a
+good sleep at last.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Go below, then, you stout-sinewed young
+Doctor; you have had your desire of sailing the
+</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> through the still watches of the
+night.  And soon you will be asleep, with your
+head on the hard pillow of that little state-room
+and though the pillow is not as hard as a stone,
+still the night and the sea and the stars are
+quickening to the brain; and who knows that
+you may not perchance after all dream of
+angels, or hear some faint singing far away?</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>*      *      *      *      *</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="italics">There was Mary Beaton—and Mary Seaton——</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>*      *      *      *      *</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Or is it only a sound of the waves?</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>END OF VOL. I.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">LONDON: R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, BREAD STREET HILL.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em">
+</div>
+<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- -->
+<div class="backmatter">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I (OF 3)</span><span> ***</span></p>
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@@ -0,0 +1,7812 @@
+.. -*- encoding: utf-8 -*-

+

+.. meta::

+   :PG.Id: 43828

+   :PG.Title: White Wings, Volume I (of 3)

+   :PG.Released: 2013-09-27

+   :PG.Rights: Public Domain

+   :PG.Producer: Al Haines

+   :DC.Creator: William Black

+   :DC.Title: White Wings, Volume I

+              A Yachting Romance

+   :DC.Language: en

+   :DC.Created: 1880

+   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

+

+=====================

+WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I

+=====================

+

+.. clearpage::

+

+.. pgheader::

+

+.. container:: titlepage center white-space-pre-line

+

+   .. vspace:: 3

+

+   .. class:: x-large

+

+      WHITE WINGS:

+

+   .. class:: large

+

+      A Yachting Romance.

+

+   .. vspace:: 2

+

+   .. class:: small

+

+      BY

+

+   .. class:: medium

+

+      WILLIAM BLACK,

+

+   .. class:: small

+

+      AUTHOR OF "THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PHAETON,"

+      "GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY," ETC.

+

+   .. vspace:: 3

+

+   .. class:: medium

+

+      *IN THREE VOLUMES.*

+

+   .. class:: medium

+

+      VOL. I.

+

+   .. vspace:: 3

+

+   .. class:: medium

+

+      London:

+      MACMILLAN AND CO.

+      1880.

+

+   .. class:: small

+

+      *The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved.*

+

+   .. vspace:: 4

+

+.. container:: verso center white-space-pre-line

+

+   .. class:: small

+

+      LONDON:

+      R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR,

+      BREAD STREET HILL.

+

+   .. vspace:: 4

+

+.. container:: dedication center white-space-pre-line

+

+   .. class:: medium

+

+      TO OUR

+

+   .. class:: medium bold

+

+      QUEEN MABS,

+

+   .. class:: medium

+

+      IN MEMORY OF HER FIRST CRUISE ON BOARD ANY

+      YACHT, THIS RECORD OF OUR LONG SUMMER IDLENESS

+      IN 1878 IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY HER

+      OBLIGED AND HUMBLE SERVANT,

+

+   .. class:: medium

+

+      *THE AUTHOR.*

+

+   .. class:: small

+

+      BRIGHTON, *June* 1880.

+

+   .. vspace:: 4

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CONTENTS.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER I.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`ON THE QUAY`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER II.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`MARY AVON`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER III.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`UNDER WAY`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER IV.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`A MESSAGE`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER V.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`A BRAVE CAREER`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER VI.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`OUR NEW GUESTS`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER VII.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`NORTHWARD`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER VIII.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER IX.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`A WILD STUDIO`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER X.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`"DUNVEGAN!—OH!  DUNVEGAN!"`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER XI.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`DRAWING NEARER`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER XII.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER XIII.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`FERDINAND AND MIRANDA`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER XIV.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`EVIL TIDINGS`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER XV.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`TEMPTATION`_

+

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center

+

+CHAPTER XVI.

+

+.. class:: noindent

+

+`THROUGH THE DARK`_

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`ON THE QUAY`:

+

+.. class:: center x-large bold

+

+   WHITE WINGS:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   A Yachting Romance.

+

+.. vspace:: 3

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER I.

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   ON THE QUAY.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+A murmur runs through the crowd; the

+various idlers grow alert; all eyes are suddenly

+turned to the south.  And there, far away over

+the green headland, a small tuft of brown

+smoke appears, rising into the golden glow of

+the afternoon, and we know that by and by

+we shall see the great steamer with her scarlet

+funnels come sailing round the point.  The

+Laird of Denny-mains assumes an air of still

+further importance; he pulls his frock-coat

+tight at the waist; he adjusts his black satin

+necktie; his tall, white, stiff collar seems more

+rigid and white than ever.  He has heard of

+the wonderful stranger; and he knows that

+now she is drawing near.

+

+Heard of her?  He has heard of nothing

+else since ever he came to us in these northern

+wilds.  For the mistress of this household—with

+all her domineering ways and her fits of

+majestic temper—has a love for her intimate

+girl-friends far passing the love of men;

+especially when the young ladies are obedient,

+and gentle, and ready to pay to her matronly

+dignity the compliment of a respectful awe.

+And this particular friend who is now coming

+to us: what has not the Laird heard about

+her during these past few days?—of her high

+courage, her resolute unselfishness, her splendid

+cheerfulness?  "A singing-bird in the house,"

+that was one of the phrases used, "in wet

+weather or fine."  And then the enthusiastic

+friend muddled her metaphors somehow, and

+gave the puzzled Laird to understand that the

+presence of this young lady in a house was

+like having sweet-brier about the rooms.  No

+wonder he put on his highest and stiffest collar

+before he marched grandly down with us to

+the quay.

+

+"And does she not deserve a long holiday

+sir?" says the Laird's hostess to him, as

+together they watch for the steamer coming

+round the point.  "Just fancy!  Two months'

+attendance on that old woman, who was her

+mother's nurse.  Two months in a sick-room,

+without a soul to break the monotony of it.

+And the girl living in a strange town all by

+herself!"

+

+"Ay; and in such a town as Edinburgh,"

+remarks the Laird, with great compassion.

+His own property lies just outside Glasgow.

+

+"Dear me," says he, "what must a young

+English leddy have thought of our Scotch way

+of speech when she heard they poor Edinburgh

+bodies and their yaumering sing-song?  Not

+that I quarrel with any people for having an

+accent in their way of speaking; they have

+that in all parts of England as well as in

+Scotland—in Yorkshire, and Somersetshire,

+and what not; and even in London itself there

+is a way of speech that is quite recognisable

+to a stranger.  But I have often thought that

+there was less trace of accent about Glesca

+and the west of Scotland than in any other

+part; in fact, ah have often been taken for an

+Englishman maself."

+

+"Indeed!" says this gentle creature standing

+by him; and her upturned eyes are full of an

+innocent belief.  You would swear she was

+meditating on summoning instantly her boys

+from Epsom College that they might acquire

+a pure accent—or get rid of all accent—on

+the banks of the Clyde.

+

+"Yes," say the Laird, with a decision almost

+amounting to enthusiasm, "it is a grand

+inheritance that we in the south of Scotland

+are preserving for you English people; and

+you know little of it.  You do not know that

+we are preserving the English language for you

+as it was spoken centuries ago, and as you

+find it in your oldest writings.  Scotticisms!

+Why, if ye were to read the prose of Mandeville

+or Wyclif, or the poetry of Robert of

+Brunne or Langdale, ye would find that our

+Scotticisms were the very pith and marrow

+of the English language.  Ay; it is so."

+

+The innocent eyes express such profound

+interest that the Laird of Denny-mains almost

+forgets about the coming steamer, so anxious

+is he to crush us with a display of his

+erudition.

+

+"It is just remarkable," he says, "that your

+dictionaries should put down, as obsolete, words

+that are in common use all over the south of

+Scotland, where, as I say, the old Northumbrian

+English is preserved in its purity; and

+that ye should have learned people hunting

+up in Chaucer or Gower for the very speech

+that they might hear among the bits o' weans

+running about the Gallowgate or the

+Broomielaw.  '*Wha's acht ye?*' you say to one of

+them; and you think you are talking Scotch.

+No, no; *acht* is only the old English for

+possession: isn't '*Wha's acht ye?*' shorter

+and pithier than '*To whom do you belong?*'

+

+"Oh, certainly!" says the meek disciple: the

+recall of the boys from Surrey is obviously

+decided on.

+

+"And *speir* for *inquire*; and *ferly* for

+*wonderful*; and *tyne* for *lose*; and *fey* for

+*about to die*; and *reek* for *smoke*; and *menseful*

+for *becoming*; and *belyve*, and *fere*, and *biggan*,

+and such words.  Ye call them Scotch?  Oh,

+no, ma'am; they are English; ye find them

+in all the old English writers; and they are

+the best of English too; a great deal better

+than the Frenchified stuff that your southern

+English has become."

+

+Not for worlds would the Laird have

+wounded the patriotic sensitiveness of this

+gentle friend of his from the South; but

+indeed, she had surely nothing to complain

+of in his insisting to an Englishwoman on

+the value of thorough English?

+

+"I thought," says she, demurely, "that the

+Scotch had a good many French words in it."

+

+The Laird pretends not to hear: he is so

+deeply interested in the steamer which is now

+coming over the smooth waters of the bay.

+But, having announced that there are a great

+many people on board, he returns to his

+discourse.

+

+"Ah'm sure of this, too," says he, "that

+in the matter of pronunciation the Lowland

+Scotch have preserved the best English—you

+can see that *faither*, and *twelmonth*, and *twa*,

+and such words are nearer the original

+Anglo-Saxon——"

+

+His hearers had been taught to shudder

+at the phrase Anglo-Saxon—without exactly

+knowing why.  But who could withstand the

+authority of the Laird?  Moreover, we see

+relief drawing near; the steamer's paddles

+are throbbing in the still afternoon.

+

+"If ye turn to *Piers the Plowman*,"

+continues the indefatigable Denny-mains, "ye

+will find Langdale writing—

+

+   |  And a fewe Cruddes and Crayme.

+

+Why, it is the familiar phrase of our Scotch

+children!—Do ye think they would say *curds*?

+And then, *fewe*.  I am not sure, but I imagine

+we Scotch are only making use of old English

+when we make certain forms of food plural.

+We say 'a few broth;' we speak of porridge

+as 'they.'  Perhaps that is a survival, too, eh?"

+

+"Oh, yes, certainly.  But please mind the

+ropes, sir," observes his humble pupil, careful

+of her master's physical safety.  For at this

+moment the steamer is slowing into the quay;

+and the men have the ropes ready to fling

+ashore.

+

+"Not," remarks the Laird, prudently backing

+away from the edge of the pier, "that I would

+say anything of these matters to your young

+English friend; certainly not.  No doubt she

+prefers the southern English she has been

+accustomed to.  But, bless me! just to think

+that she should judge of our Scotch tongue

+by the way they Edinburgh bodies speak!"

+

+"It is sad, is it not?" remarks his companion—but

+all her attention is now fixed on the

+crowd of people swarming to the side of the

+steamer.

+

+"And, indeed," the Laird explains, to close

+the subject, "it is only a hobby of mine—only

+a hobby.  Ye may have noticed that I do not

+use those words in my own speech, though I

+value them.  No, I will not force any Scotch

+on the young leddy.  As ah say, ah have

+often been taken for an Englishman maself,

+both at home and abroad."

+

+And now—and now—the great steamer is

+in at the quay; the gangways are run over;

+there is a thronging up the paddle-boxes; and

+eager faces on shore scan equally eager faces

+on board—each pair of eyes looking for that

+other pair of eyes to flash a glad recognition.

+And where is she—the flower of womankind—the

+possessor of all virtue and grace and

+courage—the wonder of the world?  The

+Laird shares in our excitement.  He, too,

+scans the crowd eagerly.  He submits to be

+hustled by the porters; he hears nothing of

+the roaring of the steam; for is she not coming

+ashore at last?  And we know—or guess—that

+he is looking out for some splendid creature—some

+Boadicea, with stately tread and imperious

+mien—some Jephtha's daughter, with proud

+death in her eyes—some Rosamond of our

+modern days, with a glory of loveliness on her

+face and hair.  And we know that the master

+who has been lecturing us for half-an-hour on

+our disgraceful neglect of pure English will not

+shock the sensitive Southern ear by any harsh

+accent of the North; but will address her in

+beautiful and courtly strains, in tones such as

+Edinburgh never knew.  Where is the queen

+of womankind, amid all this commonplace,

+hurrying, loquacious crowd?

+

+Forthwith the Laird, with a quick amazement

+in his eyes, sees a small and insignificant

+person—he only catches a glimpse of a black dress

+and a white face—suddenly clasped round in

+the warm embrace of her friend.  He stares

+for a second; and then he exclaims—apparently

+to himself:—

+

+"Dear me!  What a shilpit bit thing!"

+

+*Pale—slight—delicate—tiny*: surely such a

+master of idiomatic English cannot have

+forgotten the existence of these words.  But this

+is all he cries to himself, in his surprise and

+wonder:—

+

+"Dear me!  What a shilpit bit thing!"

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`MARY AVON`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER II.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   MARY AVON.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+The bright, frank laugh of her face!—the

+friendly, unhesitating, affectionate look in those

+soft black eyes!  He forgot all about

+Rosamond and Boadicea when he was presented to

+this "shilpit" person.  And when, instead of

+the usual ceremony of introduction, she bravely

+put her hand in his, and said she had often

+heard of him from their common friend, he

+did not notice that she was rather plain.  He

+did not even stop to consider in what degree

+her Southern accent might be improved by

+residence amongst the preservers of pure

+English.  He was anxious to know if she

+was not greatly tired.  He hoped the sea

+had been smooth as the steamer came past

+Easdale.  And her luggage—should he look

+after her luggage for her?

+

+But Miss Avon was an expert traveller, and

+quite competent to look after her own luggage.

+Even as he spoke, it was being hoisted on to

+the waggonette.

+

+"You will let me drive?" says she, eying

+critically the two shaggy, farm-looking animals.

+

+"Indeed I shall do nothing of the kind,"

+says her hostess, promptly.

+

+But there was no disappointment at all on

+her face as we drove away through the golden

+evening—by the side of the murmuring shore,

+past the overhanging fir-wood, up and across

+the high land commanding a view of the wide

+western seas.  There was instead a look of

+such intense delight that we knew, however

+silent the lips might be, that the bird-soul was

+singing within.  Everything charmed her—the

+cool, sweet air, the scent of the sea-weed,

+the glow on the mountains out there in the

+west.  And as she chattered her delight to

+us—like a bird escaped from its prison and

+glad to get into the sunlight and free air

+again—the Laird sate mute and listened.  He

+watched the frank, bright, expressive face.

+He followed and responded to her every mood—with

+a sort of fond paternal indulgence that

+almost prompted him to take her hand.  When

+she smiled, he laughed.  When she talked

+seriously, he looked concerned.  He was

+entirely forgetting that she was a "shilpit bit

+thing;" and he would have admitted that the

+Southern way of speaking English—although,

+no doubt, fallen away from the traditions of

+the Northumbrian dialect—had, after all, a

+certain music in it that made it pleasant to

+the ear.

+

+Up the hill, then, with a flourish for the

+last!—the dust rolling away in clouds behind

+us—the view over the Atlantic widening as

+we ascend.  And here is Castle Osprey, as

+we have dubbed the place, with its wide open

+door, and its walls half hidden with

+tree-fuchsias, and its great rose-garden.  Had Fair

+Rosamond herself come to Castle Osprey that

+evening, she could not have been waited on

+with greater solicitude than the Laird showed

+in assisting this "shilpit bit thing" to

+alight—though, indeed there was a slight stumble,

+of which no one took any notice at the time.

+He busied himself with her luggage quite

+unnecessarily.  He suggested a cup of tea,

+though it wanted but fifteen minutes to

+dinner-time.  He assured her that the glass was

+rising—which was not the case.  And when

+she was being hurried off to her own room to

+prepare for dinner—by one who rules her

+household with a rod of iron—he had the

+effrontery to tell her to take her own time:

+dinner could wait.  The man actually proposed

+to keep dinner waiting—in Castle Osprey.

+

+That this was love at first sight, who could

+doubt?  And perhaps the nimble brain of one

+who was at this moment hurriedly dressing in

+her own room—and whom nature has constituted

+an indefatigable matchmaker—may have

+been considering whether this rich old bachelor

+might not marry, after all.  And if he were to

+marry, why should not he marry the young

+lady in whom he seemed to have taken so

+sudden and warm an interest?  As for her:

+Mary Avon was now two or three-and-twenty;

+she was not likely to prove attractive to

+young men; her small fortune was scarcely

+worth considering; she was almost alone in

+the world.  Older men had married younger

+women.  The Laird had no immediate

+relative to inherit Denny-mains and his very

+substantial fortune.  And would they not see

+plenty of each other on board the yacht?

+

+But in her heart of hearts the schemer knew

+better.  She knew that the romance-chapter in

+the Laird's life—and a bitter chapter it

+was—had been finished and closed and put away

+many and many a year ago.  She knew how

+the great disappointment of his life had failed

+to sour him; how he was ready to share among

+friends and companions the large and generous

+heart that had been for a time laid at the feet

+of a jilt; how his keen and active interest, that

+might have been confined to his children and

+his children's children, was now devoted to a

+hundred things—the planting at Denny-mains,

+the great heresy case, the patronage of young

+artists, even the preservation of pure English,

+and what not.  And that fortunate young

+gentleman—ostensibly his nephew—whom he

+had sent to Harrow and to Cambridge, who

+was now living a very easy life in the Middle

+Temple, and who would no doubt come in for

+Denny-mains?  Well, we knew a little about

+that young man, too.  We knew why the

+Laird, when he found that both the boy's

+father and mother were dead, adopted him,

+and educated him, and got him to call him

+uncle.  He had taken under his care the son

+of the woman who had jilted him five-and-thirty

+years ago; the lad had his mother's eyes.

+

+And now we are assembled in the drawing-room—all

+except the new guest; and the glow

+of the sunset is shining in at the open windows.

+The Laird is eagerly proving to us that the

+change from the cold east winds of Edinburgh

+to the warm westerly winds of the Highlands

+must make an immediate change in the young

+lady's face—and declaring that she ought to

+go on board the yacht at once—-and asserting

+that the ladies' cabin on board the *White Dove*

+is the most beautiful little cabin he ever saw—when——

+

+When, behold! at the open door—meeting

+the glow of the sunshine—appears a

+figure—dressed all in black velvet, plain and unadorned

+but for a broad belt of gold fringe that comes

+round the neck and crosses the bosom.  And

+above that again is a lot of white muslin stuff,

+on which the small, shapely, smooth-dressed

+head seems gently to rest.  The plain black

+velvet dress gives a certain importance and

+substantiality to the otherwise slight figure;

+the broad fringe of gold glints and gleams as

+she moves towards us; but who can even think

+of these things when he meets the brave

+glance of Mary Avon's eyes?  She was

+humming, as she came down the stair—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  O think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa;

+   |  For I'll come and see ye, in spite o' them a',

+

+—we might have known it was the bird-soul

+come among us.

+

+Now the manner in which the Laird of

+Denny-mains set about capturing the affections

+of this innocent young thing—as he sate

+opposite her at dinner—would have merited severe

+reproof in one of less mature age; and might,

+indeed, have been followed by serious

+consequences but for the very decided manner in

+which Miss Avon showed that she could take

+care of herself.  Whoever heard Mary Avon

+laugh would have been assured.  And she did

+laugh a good deal; for the Laird, determined

+to amuse her, was relating a series of

+anecdotes which he called "good ones," and which

+seemed to have afforded great enjoyment to

+the people of the south of Scotland during

+the last century or so.  There was in especial

+a Highland steward of a steamer about whom

+a vast number of these stories was told; and

+if the point was at times rather difficult to

+catch, who could fail to be tickled by the

+Laird's own and obvious enjoyment?  "There

+was another good one, Miss Avon," he would

+say; and then the bare memory of the great

+facetiousness of the anecdote would break out

+in such half-suppressed guffaws as altogether

+to stop the current of the narrative.  Miss

+Avon laughed—we could not quite tell whether

+it was at the Highland steward or the Laird—until

+the tears ran down her checks.  Dinner

+was scarcely thought of.  It was a disgraceful

+exhibition.

+

+"There was another good one about Homesh,"

+said the Laird, vainly endeavouring to

+suppress his laughter.  "He came up on deck

+one enormously hot day, and looked ashore,

+and saw some cattle standing knee-deep in a

+pool of water.  Says he—ha! ha! ha!—ho! ho! ho!—says

+he—-says he—'*A wish a wass

+a stot!*'—he! he! he!—ho! ho! ho!"

+

+Of course we all laughed heartily, and Mary

+Avon more than any of us; but if she had

+gone down on her knees and sworn that she

+knew what the point of the story was, we

+should not have believed her.  But the Laird

+was delighted.  He went on with his good

+ones.  The mythical Homesh and his idiotic

+adventures became portentous.  The very

+servants could scarcely carry the dishes

+straight.

+

+But in the midst of it all the Laird suddenly

+let his knife and fork drop on his plate,

+and stared.  Then he quickly exclaimed—

+

+"Bless me! lassie!"

+

+We saw in a second what had occasioned

+his alarm.  The girl's face had become ghastly

+white; and she was almost falling away from

+her chair when her hostess, who happened to

+spring to her feet first, caught her, and held

+her, and called for water.  What could it

+mean?  Mary Avon was not of the sighing

+and fainting fraternity.

+

+And presently she came to herself—and

+faintly making apologies, would go from the

+room.  It was her ankle, she murmured—with

+the face still white from pain.  But when she

+tried to rise, she fell back again: the agony

+was too great.  And so we had to carry her.

+

+About ten minutes thereafter the mistress

+of the house came back to the Laird, who

+had been sitting by himself, in great concern.

+

+"That girl! that girl!" she exclaims—and

+one might almost imagine there are tears in

+her eyes.  "Can you fancy such a thing!  She

+twists her ankle in getting down from the

+waggonette—brings back the old sprain—perhaps

+lames herself for life—and, in spite of the

+pain, sits here laughing and joking, so that

+she may not spoil our first evening together!

+Did you ever hear of such a thing!  Sitting

+here laughing, with her ankle swelled so that

+I had to cut the boot off!"

+

+"Gracious me!" says the Laird; "is it as

+bad as that?"

+

+"And if she should become permanently

+lame—why—why——"

+

+But was she going to make an appeal direct

+to the owner of Denny-mains?  If the younger

+men were not likely to marry a lame little

+white-faced girl, that was none of his business.

+The Laird's marrying days had departed

+five-and-thirty years before.

+

+However, we had to finish our dinner,

+somehow, in consideration to our elder guest.

+And then the surgeon came; and bound up

+the ankle hard and fast; and Miss Avon,

+with a thousand meek apologies for being so

+stupid, declared again and again that her foot

+would be all right in the morning, and that we

+must get ready to start.  And when her friend

+assured her that this preliminary canter of

+the yacht might just as well be put off for a

+few days—until, for example, that young

+doctor from Edinburgh came who had been

+invited to go a proper cruise with us—her

+distress was so great that we had to promise

+to start next day punctually at ten.  So she

+sent us down again to amuse the Laird.

+

+But hark! what is this we hear just as Denny-mains

+is having his whisky and hot water brought

+in?  It is a gay voice humming on the stairs—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  By the margin of fair Zürich's waters.

+   |

+

+"That girl!" cries her hostess angrily, as

+she jumps to her feet.

+

+The door opens; and here is Mary

+Avon, with calm self-possession, making her

+way to a chair.

+

+"I knew you wouldn't believe me," she

+says coolly, "if I did not come down.  I tell

+you my foot is as well as may be; and

+Dot-and-carry-one will get down to the yacht in

+the morning as easily as any of you.  And

+that last story about Homesh," she says to

+the Laird, with a smile in the soft black eyes

+that must have made his heart jump.  "Really,

+sir, you must tell me the ending of that story;

+it was so stupid of me!"

+

+"Shilpit" she may have been; but the Laird,

+for one, was beginning to believe that this girl

+had the courage and nerve of a dozen men.

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`UNDER WAY`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER III.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   UNDER WAY.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+The first eager glance out on this brilliant

+and beautiful morning; and behold! it is all a

+wonder of blue seas and blue skies that we

+find before us, with Lismore lying golden-green

+in the sunlight, and the great mountains

+of Mull and Morven shining with the pale

+etherial colours of the dawn.  And what are

+the rhymes that are ringing through one's

+brain—the echo perchance of something heard

+far away among the islands—the islands that

+await our coming in the west?—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |    O land of red heather!

+   |    O land of wild weather,

+   |  And the cry of the waves, and the laugh of the breeze!

+   |    O love, now, together

+   |    Through the wind and wild weather

+   |  We spread our while sails to encounter the seas!

+   |

+

+Up and out, laggards, now; and hoist this

+big red and blue and white thing up to the

+head of the tall pole that the lads far below

+may know to send the gig ashore for us!  And

+there, on the ruffled blue waters of the bay,

+behold! the noble *White Dove*, with her great

+mainsail, and mizzen, and jib, all set and glowing

+in the sun; and the scarlet caps of the men

+are like points of fire in this fair blue picture;

+and the red ensign is fluttering in the light

+north-westerly breeze.  Breakfast is hurried

+over; and a small person who has a passion

+for flowers is dashing hither and thither in

+the garden until she has amassed an armful

+of our old familiar friends—abundant roses,

+fuchsias, heart's-ease, various coloured

+columbine, and masses of southernwood to scent

+our floating saloon; the waggonette is at the

+door, to take our invalid down to the landing-slip;

+and the Laird has discarded his dignified

+costume, and appears in a shooting-coat and

+a vast gray wide-awake.  As for Mary Avon,

+she is laughing, chatting, singing, here, there,

+and everywhere—giving us to understand that

+a sprained ankle is rather a pleasure than

+otherwise, and a great assistance in walking;

+until the Laird pounces upon her—as one might

+pounce on a butterfly—and imprisons her in

+the waggonette, with many a serious warning

+about her imprudence.  There let her sing to

+herself as she likes—amid the wild confusion

+of things forgotten till the last moment and

+thrust upon us just as we start.

+

+And here is the stalwart and brown-bearded

+Captain John—John of Skye we call

+him—himself come ashore in the gig, in all his

+splendour of blue and brass buttons; and he

+takes off his peaked cap to the mistress of our

+household—whom some of her friends call

+Queen Titania, because of her midge-like

+size—and he says to her with a smile—

+

+"And will Mrs. —— herself be going with

+us this time?"

+

+That is Captain John's chief concern: for

+he has a great regard for this domineering small

+woman; and shows his respect for her, and his

+own high notions of courtesy, by invariably

+addressing her in the third person.

+

+"Oh, yes, John!" says she—and she can

+look pleasant enough when she likes—"and

+this is a young friend of mine, Miss Avon, whom

+you have to take great care of on board."

+

+And Captain John takes off his cap again;

+and is understood to tell the young lady that

+he will do his best, if she will excuse his not

+knowing much English.  Then, with great

+care, and with some difficulty, Miss Avon is

+assisted down from the waggonette, and

+conducted along the rough little landing-slip, and

+helped into the stern of the shapely and shining

+gig.  Away with her, boys!  The splash of

+the oars is heard in the still bay; the shore

+recedes; the white sails seem to rise higher

+into the blue sky as we near the yacht; here

+is the black hull with its line of gold—the

+gangway open—the ropes ready—the white

+decks brilliant in the sun.  We are on board

+at last.

+

+"And where will Mr. —— himself be for

+going?" asks John of Skye, as the men are

+hauling the gig up to the davits.

+

+Mr. —— briefly but seriously explains to

+the captain that, from some slight experience

+of the winds on this coast, he has found it of

+about as much use to order the tides to be

+changed as to settle upon any definite route.

+But he suggests the circumnavigation of the

+adjacent island of Mull as a sort of preliminary

+canter for a few days, until a certain notable

+guest shall arrive; and he would prefer going

+by the south, if the honourable winds will

+permit.  Further, John of Skye is not to be

+afraid of a bit of sea, on account of either

+of those ladies; both are excellent sailors.

+With these somewhat vague instructions,

+Captain John is left to get the yacht under

+way; and we go below to look after the

+stowage of our things in the various staterooms.

+

+And what is this violent altercation going

+on, in the saloon?

+

+"I will not have a word said against my

+captain," says Mary Avon.  "I am in love

+with him already.  His English is perfectly

+correct."

+

+This impertinent minx talking about correct

+English in the presence of the Laird of

+Denny-mains!

+

+"Mrs. —— herself is perfectly correct;

+it is only politeness; it is like saying 'Your

+Grace' to a Duke."

+

+But who was denying it?  Surely not the

+imperious little woman who was arranging her

+flowers on the saloon table; nor yet Denny-mains,

+who was examining a box of variegated

+and recondite fishing-tackle?

+

+"It is all very well for fine ladies to laugh

+at the blunders of servant maids," continues

+this audacious girl.  "'Miss Brown presents

+her compliments to Miss Smith; and would

+you be so kind,' and so on.  But don't they

+often make the same blunder themselves?"

+

+Well, this was a discovery!

+

+"Doesn't Mrs. So-and-So request the

+honour of the company of Mr. So-and-So or

+Miss So-and-So for some purpose or other;

+and then you find at one corner of the card

+'*R.S.V.P.*?'  'Answer if YOU please'!"

+

+A painful silence prevailed.  We began to

+reflect.  Whom did she mean to charge with

+this deadly crime?

+

+But her triumph makes her considerate.

+She will not harry us with scorn.

+

+"It is becoming far less common now,

+however," she remarks.  "'An answer is

+requested,' is much more sensible."

+

+"It is English," says the Laird, with

+decision.  "Surely it must be more sensible

+for an English person to write English.  Ah

+never use a French word maself."

+

+But what is the English that we hear now—called

+out on deck by the voice of John of Skye?

+

+"Eachan, slack the lee topping-lift!  Ay,

+and the tackle, too.  That'll do, boys.  Down

+with your main-tack, now!"

+

+"Why," exclaims our sovereign mistress,

+who knows something of nautical matters,

+"we must have started!"

+

+Then there is a tumbling up the companion-way;

+and lo! the land is slowly leaving us; and

+there is a lapping of the blue water along

+the side of the boat; and the white sails of

+the *White Dove* are filled with this gentle

+breeze.  Deck-stools are arranged; books and

+field-glasses and what not scattered about;

+Mary Avon is helped on deck, and ensconced

+in a snug little camp-chair.  The days of our

+summer idleness have begun.

+

+And as yet these are but familiar scenes

+that steal slowly by—the long green island

+of Lismore—*Lios-mor*, the Great Garden; the

+dark ruins of Duart, sombre as if the shadow

+of nameless tragedies rested on the crumbling

+walls; Loch Don, with its sea-bird-haunted

+shallows, and Loch Speliv leading up to the

+awful solitudes of Glen More; then, stretching

+far into the wreathing clouds, the long

+rampart of precipices, rugged and barren and

+lonely, that form the eastern wall of Mull.

+

+There is no monotony on this beautiful

+summer morning; the scene changes every

+moment, as the light breeze bears us away

+to the south.  For there is the Sheep Island;

+and Garveloch—which is the rough island;

+and Eilean-na naomha—which is the island

+of the Saints.  But what are these to the

+small transparent cloud resting on the

+horizon?—smaller than any man's hand.  The day is

+still; and the seas are smooth: cannot we

+hear the mermaiden singing on the far shores

+of Colonsay?

+

+"Colonsay!" exclaims the Laird, seizing a

+field-glass.  "Dear me!  Is that Colonsay?

+And they telled me that Tom Galbraith was

+going there this very year."

+

+The piece of news fails to startle us

+altogether; though we have heard the Laird

+speak of Mr. Galbraith before.

+

+"Ay," says he, "the world will know

+something o' Colonsay when Tom Galbraith gets

+there."

+

+"Whom did you say?" Miss Avon asks.

+

+"Why, Galbraith!" says he.  "Tom Galbraith!"

+

+The Laird stares in amazement.  Is it

+possible she has not heard of Tom Galbraith?

+And she herself an artist; and coming direct

+from Edinburgh, where she has been living

+for two whole months!

+

+"Gracious me!" says the Laird.  "Ye do

+not say ye have never heard of Galbraith—he's

+an Academeecian!—a Scottish Academeecian!"

+

+"Oh, yes; no doubt," she says, rather

+bewildered.

+

+"There is no one living has had such an

+influence on our Scotch school of painters

+as Galbraith—a man of great abeelity—a man

+of great and uncommon abeelity—he is one

+of the most famous landscape painters of our

+day——"

+

+"I scarcely met any one in Edinburgh,"

+she pleads.

+

+"But in London—in London!" exclaims

+the astonished Laird.  "Do ye mean to say

+you never heard o' Tom Galbraith?"

+

+"I—I think not," she confesses.  "I—I

+don't remember his name in the Academy

+catalogue——"

+

+"The Royal Academy!" cries the Laird,

+with scorn.  "No, no!  Ye need not expect

+that.  The English Academy is afraid of the

+Scotchmen: their pictures are too strong:

+you do not put good honest whisky beside

+small beer.  I say the English Academy is

+afraid of the Scotch school——"

+

+But flesh and blood can stand this no

+longer: we shall not have Mary Avon

+trampled upon.

+

+"Look here, Denny-mains: we always

+thought there was a Scotchman or two in

+the Royal Academy itself—and quite capable

+of holding their own there, too.  Why, the

+President of the Academy is a Scotchman!

+And as for the Academy exhibition, the very

+walls are smothered with Scotch hills, Scotch

+spates, Scotch peasants, to say nothing of

+the thousand herring-smacks of Tarbert."

+

+"I tell ye they are afraid of Tom Galbraith;

+they will not exhibit one of his

+pictures," says the Laird, stubbornly; and

+here the discussion is closed; for Master Fred

+tinkles his bell below, and we have to go

+down for luncheon.

+

+It was most unfair of the wind to take

+advantage of our absence, and to sneak off,

+leaving us in a dead calm.  It was all very

+well, when we came on deck again, to watch

+the terns darting about in their swallow-like

+fashion, and swooping down to seize a fish;

+and the strings of sea-pyots whirring by, with

+their scarlet beaks and legs; and the sudden

+shimmer and hissing of a part of the blue

+plain, where a shoal of mackerel had come

+to the surface; but where were we, now

+in the open Atlantic, to pass the night?

+We relinquished the doubling of the Ross

+of Mull; we should have been content—more

+than content, for the sake of auld

+lang syne—to have put into Carsaig; we

+were beginning even to have ignominious

+thoughts of Loch Buy.  And yet we let

+the golden evening draw on with comparative

+resignation; and we watched the colour

+gathering in the west, and the Atlantic

+taking darker hues, and a ruddy tinge

+beginning to tell on the seamed ridges of

+Garveloch and the isle of Saints.  When

+the wind sprung up again—it had backed to

+due west, and we had to beat against it with

+a series of long tacks, that took us down

+within sight of Islay and back to Mull

+apparently all for nothing—we were deeply

+engaged in prophesying all manner of things

+to be achieved by one Angus Sutherland, an

+old friend of ours, though yet a young man

+enough.

+

+"Just fancy, sir!" says our hostess to the

+Laird—the Laird, by the way, does not seem

+so enthusiastic as the rest of us, when he hears

+that this hero of modern days is about to join

+our party.  "What he has done beats all that I

+ever heard about Scotch University students;

+and you know what some of them have

+accomplished in the face of difficulties.  His

+father is a minister in some small place in

+Banffshire; perhaps he has 200*l.* a year at

+the outside.  This son of his has not cost him

+a farthing for either his maintenance or his

+education, since he was fourteen; he took

+bursaries, scholarships, I don't know what, when

+he was a mere lad; supported himself and

+travelled all over Europe—but I think it was

+at Leipsic and at Vienna he studied longest;

+and the papers he has written—the lectures—and

+the correspondence with all the great

+scientific people—when they made him a

+Fellow, all he said was, 'I wish my mother

+was alive.'"

+

+This was rather an incoherent and jumbled

+account of a young man's career.

+

+"A Fellow of what?" says the Laird.

+

+"A Fellow of the Royal Society!  They

+made him a Fellow of the Royal Society last

+year!  And he is only seven-and-twenty!  I

+do believe he was not over one-and-twenty

+when he took his degree at Edinburgh.  And

+then—and then—there is really nothing that he

+doesn't know: is there, Mary?"

+

+This sudden appeal causes Mary Avon to

+flush slightly; but she says demurely, looking

+down—

+

+"Of course I don't know anything that he

+doesn't know."

+

+"Hm!" says the Laird, who does not seem

+over pleased.  "I have observed that young

+men who are too brilliant at the first, seldom

+come to much afterwards.  Has he gained

+anything substantial?  Has he a good practice?

+Does he keep his carriage yet?"

+

+"No, no!" says our hostess, with a fine

+contempt for such things.  "He has a higher

+ambition than that.  His practice is almost

+nothing.  He prefers to sacrifice that in the

+meantime.  But his reputation—among the

+scientific—why—why, it is European!"

+

+"Hm!" says the Laird.  "I have sometimes

+seen that persons who gave themselves up

+to erudeetion, lost the character of human

+beings altogether.  They become scientific

+machines.  The world is just made up of books

+for them—and lectures—they would not give a

+halfpenny to a beggar for fear of poleetical

+economy——"

+

+"Oh, how can you say such a thing of

+Angus Sutherland!" says she—though he has

+said no such thing of Angus Sutherland.

+"Why, here is this girl who goes to Edinburgh—all

+by herself—to nurse an old woman in her

+last illness; and as Angus Sutherland is in

+Edinburgh on some business—connected with

+the University, I believe—I ask him to call

+on her and see if he can give her any advice.

+What does he do?  He stops in Edinburgh

+two months—editing that scientific magazine

+there instead of in London—and all because

+he has taken an interest in the old woman

+and thinks that Mary should not have the

+whole responsibility on her shoulders.  Is that

+like a scientific machine?"

+

+"No," says the Laird, with a certain calm

+grandeur; "you do not often find young men

+doing that for the sake of an old woman."  But

+of course we don't know what he means.

+

+"And I am so glad he is coming to us!"

+she says, with real delight in her face.  "We

+shall take him away from his microscopes, and

+his societies, and all that.  Oh, and he is such

+a delightful companion—so simple, and natural,

+and straightforward!  Don't you think so, Mary?"

+

+Mary Avon is understood to assent: she

+does not say much—she is so deeply interested

+in a couple of porpoises that appear from time

+to time on the smooth plain on the sea.

+

+"I am sure a long holiday would do him a

+world of good," says this eager hostess; "but

+that is too much to expect.  He is always too

+busy.  I think he has got to go over to Italy

+soon, about some exhibition of surgical

+instruments, or something of that sort."

+

+We had plenty of further talk about

+Dr. Sutherland, and of the wonderful future that

+lay before him, that evening before we finally

+put into Loch Buy.  And there we dined; and

+after dinner we found the wan, clear twilight

+filling the northern heavens, over the black

+range of mountains, and throwing a silver glare

+on the smooth sea around us.  We could have

+read on deck at eleven at night—-had that

+been necessary; but Mary Avon was humming

+snatches of songs to us, and the Laird was

+discoursing of the wonderful influence exerted

+on Scotch landscape-art by Tom Galbraith.

+Then in the south the yellow moon rose;

+and a golden lane of light lay on the sea, from

+the horizon across to the side of the yacht;

+and there was a strange glory on the decks

+and on the tall, smooth masts.  The peace

+of that night!—the soft air, the silence, the

+dreamy lapping of the water!

+

+"And whatever lies before Angus Sutherland,"

+says one of us—"whether a baronetcy,

+or a big fortune, or marriage with an Italian

+princess—he won't find anything better than

+sailing in the *White Dove* among the western

+islands."

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`A MESSAGE`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER IV.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   A MESSAGE.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+What fierce commotion is this that awakes

+us in the morning—what pandemonium broken

+loose of wild storm-sounds—-with the stately

+*White Dove*, ordinarily the most sedate and

+gentle of her sex, apparently gone mad, and

+flinging herself about as if bent on

+somersaults?  When one clambers up the

+companion-way, clinging hard, and puts one's

+head out into the gale, behold! there is not

+a trace of land visible anywhere—nothing but

+whirling clouds of mist and rain; and

+mountain-masses of waves that toss the *White Dove*

+about as if she were a plaything; and decks

+all running wet with the driven spray.  John

+of Skye, clad from head to heel in black

+oilskins—and at one moment up in the clouds,

+the next moment descending into the great

+trough of the sea—-hangs on to the rope that

+is twisted round the tiller; and laughs a

+good-morning; and shakes the salt water from his

+shaggy eyebrows and beard.

+

+"Hallo!  John—where on earth have we got to?"

+

+"Ay, ay, sir."

+

+"I say WHERE ARE WE?" is shouted, for

+the roar of the rushing Atlantic in deafening.

+

+"'Deed I not think we are far from Loch

+Buy," says John of Skye, grimly.  "The wind

+is dead ahead of us—ay, shist dead ahead!"

+

+"What made you come out against a headwind then?"

+

+"When we cam' out," says John—picking

+his English, "the wind will be from the norse—ay,

+a fine light breeze from the norse.  And

+will Mr. —— himself be for going on now?

+it is a ferry bad sea for the leddies—a ferry

+coorse sea."

+

+But it appears that this conversation—bawled

+aloud—has been overheard.  There

+are voices from below.  The skylight of the

+ladies' cabin is partly open.

+

+"Don't mind us," calls Mary Avon.  "Go

+on by all means!"

+

+The other voice calls—

+

+"Why can't you keep this fool of a boat

+straight?  Ask him when we shall be into

+the Sound of Iona."

+

+One might as well ask him when we shall

+be into the Sound of Jericho or Jerusalem.

+With half a gale of wind right in our teeth,

+and with the heavy Atlantic swell running,

+we might labour here all day—and all the night

+too—without getting round the Ross of Mull.

+There is nothing for it but to turn and run,

+that we may have our breakfast in peace.  Let

+her away, then, you brave John of Skye!—slack

+out the main-sheet, and give her plenty

+of it, too: then at the same moment Sandy

+from Islay perceives that a haul at the weather

+topping-lift will clear the boom from the davits;

+and now—and now, good Master Fred—our

+much-esteemed and shifty Friedrich d'or—if

+you will but lay the cloth on the table, we

+will help you to steady the dancing

+phantasmagoria of plates and forks!

+

+"Dear me!" says the Laird, when we are

+assembled together, "it has been an awful

+night!"

+

+"Oh, I hope you have not been ill!" says

+his hostess, with a quick concern in the soft,

+clear eyes.

+

+He does not look as if he had suffered

+much.  He is contentedly chipping an egg;

+and withal keeping an eye on the things near

+him, for the *White Dove*, still plunging a good

+deal, threatens at times to make of everything

+on the table a movable feast.

+

+"Oh, no, ma'am, not ill," he says.  "But

+at my time of life, ye see, one is not as light

+in weight as one used to be; and the way I

+was flung about in that cabin last night was

+just extraordinary.  When I was trying to

+put on my boots this morning, I am sure I

+resembled nothing so much as a pea in a

+bladder—indeed it was so—I was knocked

+about like a pea in a bladder."

+

+Of course we expressed great sympathy,

+and assured him that the *White Dove*—famed

+all along this coast for her sober and steady-going

+behaviour—would never act so any more.

+

+"However," said he thoughtfully, "the

+wakefulness of the night is often of use to

+people.  Yes, I have come to a decision."

+

+We were somewhat alarmed: was he going

+to leave us merely because of this bit of

+tossing?

+

+"I dare say ye know, ma'am," says he

+slowly, "that I am one of the Commissioners

+of the Burgh of Strathgovan.  It is a poseetion

+of grave responsibility.  This very question

+now—about our getting a steam fire-engine—has

+been weighing on my mind for many a

+day.  Well, I have decided I will no longer

+oppose it.  They may have the steam

+fire-engine as far as I am concerned."

+

+We felt greatly relieved.

+

+"Yes," continued the Laird, solemnly, "I

+think I am doing my duty in this matter as a

+public man should—laying aside his personal

+prejudice.  But the cost of it!  Do ye know

+that we shall want bigger nozzles to all the

+fire-plugs?"

+

+Matters were looking grave again.

+

+"However," said the Laird cheerfully—for

+he would not depress us too much, "it may

+all turn out for the best; and I will telegraph

+my decision to Strathgovan as soon as ever

+the storm allows us to reach a port."

+

+The storm, indeed!  When we scramble

+up on deck again, we find that it is only a

+brisk sailing breeze we have; and the *White

+Dove* is bowling merrily along, flinging high

+the white spray from her bows.  And then

+we begin to see that, despite those driving

+mists around us, there is really a fine clear

+summer day shining far above this twopenny-halfpenny

+tempest.  The whirling mists break

+here and there; and we catch glimpses of a

+placid blue sky, flecked with lines of motionless

+cirrhus cloud.  The breaks increase; floods

+of sunshine fall on the gleaming decks; clearer

+and clearer become the vast precipices of

+southern Mull; and then, when we get well

+to the lee of Eilean-straid-ean, behold! the

+blue seas around us once more; and the blue

+skies overhead; and the red ensign fluttering

+in the summer breeze.  No wonder that Mary

+Avon sings her delight—as a linnet sings after

+the rain; and though the song is not meant

+for us at all, but is really hummed to herself

+as she clings on to the shrouds and watches

+the flashing and dipping of the white-winged

+gulls, we know that it is all about a jolly

+young waterman.  The audacious creature:

+John of Skye has a wife and four children.

+

+Too quickly indeed does the fair summer

+day go by—as we pass the old familiar Duart

+and begin to beat up the Sound of Mull

+against a fine light sailing breeze.  By the

+time we have reached Ardtornish, the Laird

+has acquired some vague notion as to how

+the gaff topsail is set.  Opposite the

+dark-green woods of Funeray, he tells us of the

+extraordinary faculty possessed by Tom

+Galbraith of representing the texture of foliage.

+At Salen we have Master Fred's bell

+summoning us down to lunch; and thereafter, on

+deck, coffee, draughts, crochet, and a

+profoundly interesting description of some of the

+knotty points in the great Semple heresy case.

+And here again, as we bear away over almost

+to the mouth of Loch Sunart, is the open

+Atlantic—of a breezy grey under the

+lemon-colour and silver of the calm evening sky.

+What is the use of going on against this

+contrary wind, and missing, in the darkness

+of the night, all the wonders of the western

+islands that the Laird is anxious to see?  We

+resolve to run into Tobermory; and by and

+by we find ourselves under the shadow of the

+wooded rocks, with the little white town

+shining along the semicircle of the bay.  And

+very cleverly indeed does John of Skye cut

+in among the various craft—showing off a

+little bit, perhaps—until the *White Dove* is

+brought up to the wind, and the great

+anchor-cable goes out with a roar.

+

+Now it was by the merest accident that we

+got at Tobermory a telegram that had been

+forwarded that very day to meet us on our

+return voyage.  There was no need for any

+one to go ashore, for we were scarcely in port

+before a most praiseworthy gentleman was so

+kind as to send us on board a consignment

+of fresh flowers, vegetables, milk, eggs, and

+so forth—the very things that become of

+inestimable value to yachting people.  However,

+we had two women on board; and of course—despite

+a certain bandaged ankle—they must

+needs go shopping.  And Mary Avon, when

+we got ashore, would buy some tobacco for

+her favourite Captain John; and went into

+the post-office for that purpose, and was having

+the black stuff measured out by the yard when

+some mention was made of the *White Dove*.

+Then a question was asked; there was a

+telegram; it was handed to Miss Avon, who

+opened it and read it.

+

+"Oh!" said she, looking rather concerned;

+and then she regarded her friend with some

+little hesitation.

+

+"It is my uncle," she says; "he wants to

+see me on very urgent business.  He is—coming—to

+see me—the day after to-morrow."

+

+Blank consternation followed this announcement.

+This person, even though he was

+Mary Avon's sole surviving relative, was quite

+intolerable to us.  East Wind we had called

+him in secret, on the few occasions on which

+he had darkened our doors.  And just as we

+were making up our happy family party—with

+the Laird, and Mary, and Angus

+Sutherland—to sail away to the far Hebrides,

+here was this insufferable creature—with his

+raucous voice, his washed-out eyes, his pink

+face, his uneasy manner, and general groom

+or butler-like appearance—thrusting himself on us!

+

+"Well, you know, Mary," says her hostess—entirely

+concealing her dismay in her

+anxious politeness—"we shall almost

+certainly be home by the day after to-morrow, if

+we get any wind at all.  So you had better

+telegraph to your uncle to come on to Castle

+Osprey, and to wait for you if you are not

+there; we cannot be much longer than that.

+And Angus Sutherland will be there; he will

+keep him company until we arrive."

+

+So that was done, and we went on board

+again—one of us meanwhile vowing to

+himself that ere ever Mr. Frederick Smethurst

+set sail with us on board the *White Dove*, a

+rifle-bullet through her hull would send that

+gallant vessel to the lobsters.

+

+Now what do you think our Mary Avon

+set to work to do—all during this beautiful

+summer evening, as we sat on deck and eyed

+curiously the other craft in the bay, or watched

+the firs grow dark against the silver-yellow

+twilight?  We could not at first make out

+what she was driving at.  Her occupation in

+the world, so far as she had any—beyond

+being the pleasantest of companions and the

+faithfullest of friends—was the painting of

+landscapes in oil, not the construction of

+Frankenstein monsters.  But here she begins

+by declaring to us that there is one type of

+character that has never been described by

+any satirist, or dramatist, or fictionist—a

+common type, too, though only becoming

+pronounced in rare instances.  It is the moral

+Tartuffe, she declares—the person who is

+through and through a hypocrite, not to cloak

+evil doings, but only that his eager love of

+approbation may be gratified.  Look now how

+this creature of diseased vanity, of plausible

+manners, of pretentious humbug, rises out of

+the smoke like the figure summoned by a

+wizard's wand!  As she gives us little touches

+here and there of the ways of this professor

+of bonhomie—this bundle of affectations—we

+begin to prefer the most diabolical villainy

+that any thousand of the really wicked

+Tartuffes could have committed.  He grows and

+grows.  His scraps of learning, as long as

+those more ignorant than himself are his

+audience; his mock humility anxious for

+praise; his parade of generous and sententious

+sentiment; his pretence—pretence—pretence—all

+arising from no evil machinations

+whatever, but from a morbid and restless

+craving for esteem.  Hence, horrible shadow!

+Let us put out the candles and get to bed.

+

+But next morning, as we find ourselves out

+on the blue Atlantic again, with Ru-na-Gaul

+lighthouse left far behind, and the pale line

+of Coll at the horizon, we begin to see why

+the skill and patient assiduity of this amateur

+psychologist should have raised that ghost for

+us the night before.  Her uncle is coming.

+He is not one of the plausible kind.  And if

+it should be necessary to invite him on board,

+might we not the more readily tolerate his

+cynical bluntness and rudeness, after we have

+been taught to abhor as the hatefullest of

+mortals the well-meaning hypocrite whose

+vanity makes his life a bundle of small lies?

+Very clever indeed, Miss Avon—very clever.

+But don't you raise any more ghosts; they

+are unpleasant company—even as an antidote.

+And now, John of Skye, if it must be that

+we are to encounter this pestilent creature at

+the end of our voyage, clap on all sail now,

+and take us right royally down through these

+far islands of the west.  Ah! do we not know

+them of old?  Soon as we get round the

+Cailleach Point we descry the nearest of them

+amid the loneliness of the wide Atlantic sea.

+For there is Carnaburg, with her spur of rock;

+and Fladda, long and rugged, and bare; and

+Lunga, with her peak; and the Dutchman's

+Cap—a pale blue in the south.  How bravely

+the *White Dove* swings on her way—springing

+like a bird over the western swell!  And as

+we get past Ru-Treshnish, behold! another

+group of islands—Gometra and the green-shored

+Ulva, that guard the entrance to Loch

+Tua; and Colonsay, the haunt of the sea

+birds; and the rock of Erisgeir—all shining

+in the sun.  And then we hear a strange

+sound—different from the light rush of the

+waves—a low, and sullen, and distant booming,

+such as one faintly hears in a sea-shell.

+As the *White Dove* ploughs on her way, we

+come nearer and nearer to this wonder of the

+deep—the ribbed and fantastic shores of Staffa;

+and we see how the great Atlantic rollers,

+making for the cliffs of Gribun and Burg,

+are caught by those outer rocks and torn into

+masses of white foam, and sent roaring and

+thundering into the blackness of the caves.

+We pass close by; the air trembles with the

+shock of that mighty surge; there is a mist

+of spray rising into the summer air.  And

+then we sail away again; and the day wears

+on as the white-winged *White Dove* bounds

+over the heavy seas; and Mary Avon—as we

+draw near the Ross of Mull, all glowing in the

+golden evening—is singing a song of Ulva.

+

+But there is no time for romance, as the

+*White Dove* (drawing eight feet of water)

+makes in for the shallow harbour outside

+Bunessan.

+

+"Down foresail!" calls out our John of

+Skye; and by and by her head comes up to

+the wind, the great mainsail flapping in the

+breeze.  And again, "Down chub, boys!" and

+there is another rattle and roar amid the

+silence of this solitary little bay.  The herons

+croak their fright and fly away on heavy

+wing; the curlews whistle shrilly; the

+sea-pyots whirr along the lonely shores.  And

+then our good Friedrich d'or sounds his

+silver-toned bell.

+

+The stillness of this summer evening on

+deck; the glory deepening over the wide

+Atlantic; the delightful laughter of the Laird

+over those "good ones" about Homesh; the

+sympathetic glance of Mary Avon's soft black

+eyes: did we not value them all the more

+that we knew we had something far different

+to look forward to?  Even as we idled away

+the beautiful and lambent night, we had a

+vague consciousness that our enemy was

+stealthily drawing near.  In a day or two at

+the most we should find the grim spectre of

+the East Wind in the rose-garden of Castle Osprey.

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`A BRAVE CAREER`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER V.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   A BRAVE CAREER.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+Bur when we went on deck the next morning

+we forgot all about the detestable person

+who was about to break in upon our peace

+(there was small chance that our faithful Angus

+Sutherland might encounter the snake in this

+summer paradise, and trample on him, and

+pitch him out; for this easy way of getting

+rid of disagreeable folk is not permitted in

+the Highlands nowadays) as we looked on

+the beautiful bay shining all around us.

+

+"Dear me!" said Denny-mains, "if Tom

+Galbraith could only see that now!  It is a

+great peety he has never been to this place.

+I'm thinking I must write to him."

+

+The Laird did not remember that we had

+an artist on board—one who, if she was not

+so great an artist as Mr. Galbraith, had at

+least exhibited one or two small landscapes

+in oil at the Royal Academy.  But then the

+Academicians, though they might dread the

+contrast between their own work and that of

+Tom Galbraith, could have no fear of Mary Avon.

+

+And even Mr. Galbraith himself might have

+been puzzled to find among his pigments any

+equivalent for the rare and clear colours of

+this morning scene as now we sailed away

+from Bunessan with a light topsail breeze.

+How blue the day was—blue skies, blue seas,

+a faint transparent blue along the cliffs of

+Burg and Gribun, a darker blue where the

+far Ru-Treshanish ran out into the sea, a

+shadow of blue to mark where the caves of

+Staffa retreated from the surface of the

+sun-brown rocks!  And here, nearer at hand, the

+warmer colours of the shore—the soft, velvety

+olive-greens of the moss and breckan; the

+splashes of lilac where the rocks were bare

+of herbage; the tender sunny reds where the

+granite promontories ran out to the sea; the

+beautiful cream-whites of the sandy bays!

+

+Here, too, are the islands again as we get

+out into the open—Gometra, with its one white

+house at the point; and Inch Kenneth, where

+the seals show their shining black heads among

+the shallows; and Erisgeir and Colonsay, where

+the skarts alight to dry their wings on the

+rocks; and Staffa, and Lunga, and the

+Dutchman, lying peaceful enough now on the calm

+blue seas.  We have time to look at them,

+for the wind is slight, and the broad-beamed

+*White Dove* is not a quick sailer in a light

+breeze.  The best part of the forenoon is

+over before we find ourselves opposite to the

+gleaming white sands of the northern bays

+of Iona.

+

+"But surely both of us together will be able

+to make him stay longer than ten days," says

+the elder of the two women to the younger—and

+you may be sure she was not speaking

+of East Wind.

+

+Mary Avon looks up with a start; then

+looks down again—perhaps with the least

+touch of colour in her face—as she says

+hurriedly—

+

+"Oh, I think you will.  He is your friend.

+As for me—you see—I—I scarcely know him."

+

+"Oh, Mary!" says the other reproachfully.

+"You have been meeting him constantly all

+these two months; you must know him better

+than any of us.  I am sure I wish he was on

+board now—he could tell us all about the

+geology of the islands, and what not.  It will

+be delightful to have somebody on board who

+knows something."

+

+Such is the gratitude of women!—and the

+Laird had just been describing to her some

+further points of the famous heresy case.

+

+"And then he knows Gaelic!" says the

+elder woman.  "He will tell us what all the

+names of the islands mean."

+

+"Oh, yes," says the younger one, "he

+understands Gaelic very well, though he cannot

+speak much of it."

+

+"And I think he is very fond of boats,"

+remarks our hostess.

+

+"Oh, exceedingly—exceedingly!" says the

+other, who, if she does not know Angus

+Sutherland, seems to have picked up some

+information about him somehow.  "You

+cannot imagine how he has been looking forward

+to sailing with you; he has scarcely had any

+holiday for years."

+

+"Then he must stay longer than ten days,"

+says the elder woman; adding with a smile,

+"you know, Mary, it is not the number of

+his patients that will hurry him back to London."

+

+"Oh, but I assure you," says Miss Avon

+seriously, "that he is not at all anxious to

+have many patients—as yet!  Oh, no!—I

+never knew any one who was so indifferent

+about money.  I know he would live on bread

+and water—if that were necessary—to go on

+with his researches.  He told me himself that

+all the time he was at Leipsic his expenses

+were never more than 1*l.* a week."

+

+She seemed to know a good deal about the

+circumstances of this young F.R.S.

+

+"Look at what he has done with those

+anæsthetics," continues Miss Avon.  "Isn't it

+better to find out something that does good

+to the whole world than give yourself up to

+making money by wheedling a lot of old women?"

+

+This estimate of the physician's art was not

+flattering.

+

+"But," she says warmly, "if the Government

+had any sense, that is just the sort of man

+they would put in a position to go on with

+his invaluable work.  And Oxford and Cambridge,

+with all their wealth, they scarcely even

+recognise the noblest profession that a man

+can devote himself to—when even the poor

+Scotch Universities and the Universities all

+over Europe have always had their medical

+and scientific chairs.  I think it is perfectly

+disgraceful!"

+

+Since when had she become so strenuous

+an advocate of the endowment of research?

+

+"Why, look at Dr. Sutherland—when he is

+burning to get on with his own proper

+work—when his name is beginning to be known all

+over Europe—he has to fritter away his time

+in editing a scientific magazine and in those

+hospital lectures.  And that, I suppose, is

+barely enough to live on.  But I know," she

+says, with decision, "that in spite of everything—I

+know that before he is five-and-thirty, he

+will be President of the British Association."

+

+Here, indeed, is a brave career for the Scotch

+student: cannot one complete the sketch as it

+roughly exists in the minds of those two women?

+

+At twenty-one, B.M. of Edinburgh.

+

+At twenty-six, F.R.S.

+

+At thirty, Professor of Biology at Oxford:

+the chair founded through the intercession of

+the women of Great Britain.

+

+At thirty-five, President of the British Association.

+

+At forty, a baronetcy, for further discoveries

+in the region of anæsthetics.

+

+At forty-five, consulting physician to half the

+gouty old gentlemen of England, and amassing

+an immense fortune.

+

+At fifty——

+

+Well, at fifty, is it not time that "the poor

+Scotch student," now become great and famous

+and wealthy, should look around for some

+beautiful princess to share his high estate with

+him?  He has not had time before to think

+of such matters.  But what is this now?  Is

+it that microscopes and test-tubes have dimmed

+his eyes?  Is it that honours and responsibilities

+have silvered his hair?  Or, is the

+drinking deep of the Pactolus stream a deadly

+poison?  There is no beautiful princess awaiting

+him anywhere.  He is alone among his

+honours.  There was once a beautiful

+princess—beautiful-souled and tender-eyed, if not

+otherwise too lovely—awaiting him among the

+Western Seas; but that time is over and gone

+many a year ago.  The opportunity has passed.

+Ambition called him away, and he left her;

+and the last he saw of her was when he bade

+good-bye to the *White Dove*.

+

+What have we to do with these idle dreams?

+We are getting within sight of Iona village

+now; and the sun is shining on the green

+shores, and on the ruins of the old cathedral,

+and on that white house just above the

+cornfield.  And as there is no good anchorage

+about the island, we have to make in for a

+little creek on the Mull side of the Sound,

+called Polterriv, or the Bull-hole; and this

+creek is narrow, tortuous, and shallow; and

+a yacht drawing eight feet of water has to be

+guided with some circumspection—especially

+if you go up to the inner harbour above the

+rock called the Little Bull.  And so we make

+inquiries of John of Skye, who has not been

+with us here before.  It is even hinted, that

+if he is not quite sure of the channel, we might

+send the gig over to Iona for John Macdonald,

+who is an excellent pilot.

+

+"John Macdonald!" exclaims John of Skye,

+whose professional pride has been wounded.

+"Will John Macdonald be doing anything

+more than I wass do myself in the

+Bull-hole—ay, last year—last year I will tek my own

+smack out of the Bull-hole at the norse end,

+and ferry near low water, too; and her

+deep-loaded?  Oh, yes, I will be knowing the

+Bull-hole this many a year."

+

+And John of Skye is as good as his word.

+Favoured by a flood-tide, we steal gently into

+the unfrequented creek, behind the great rocks

+of red granite; and so extraordinarily clear is

+the water that, standing upright on the deck,

+we can see the white sand of the bottom with

+shoals of young saithe darting this way and

+that.  And then just as we get opposite an

+opening in the rocks, through which we can

+descry the northern shores of Iona, and above

+those the blue peak of the Dutchman, away

+goes the anchor with a short, quick rush; her

+head swings round to meet the tide; the *White

+Dove* is safe from all the winds that blow.  Now

+lower away the gig, boys, and bear us over

+the blue waters of the Sound!

+

+"I am really afraid to begin," Mary Avon

+says, as we remonstrate with her for not

+having touched a colour-tube since she started.

+"Besides, you know, I scarcely look on it that

+we have really set out yet.  This is only a

+sort of shaking ourselves into our places; I

+am only getting accustomed to the ways of

+our cabin now.  I shall scarcely consider that

+we have started on our real voyaging until——"

+

+Oh, yes, we know very well.  Until we have

+got Angus Sutherland on board.  But what

+she really said was, after slight hesitation:

+

+"——until we set out for the Northern Hebrides."

+

+"Ay, it's a good thing to feel nervous about

+beginning," says the Laird, as the long sweep

+of the four oars brings us nearer and nearer to

+the Iona shores.  "I have often heard Tom

+Galbraith say that to the younger men.  He

+says if a young man is over confident, he'll come

+to nothing.  But there was a good one I once

+heard Galbraith tell about a young man that

+was pentin at Tarbert—that's Tarbert on Loch

+Fyne, Miss Avon.  Ay, well, he was pentin

+away, and he was putting in the young lass

+of the house as a fisher-lass; and he asked

+her if she could not get a creel to strap on

+her back, as a background for her head, ye

+know.  Well, says she——"

+

+Here the fierce humour of the story began

+to bubble up in the Laird's blue-grey eyes.

+We were all half laughing already.  It was

+impossible to resist the glow of delight on the

+Laird's face.

+

+"Says she—just as pat as ninepence—says

+she, 'it's your ain head that wants a creel!'"

+

+The explosion was inevitable.  The roar of

+laughter at this good one was so infectious

+that a subdued smile played over the rugged

+features of John of Skye.  "*It's your ain head

+that wants a creel:*" the Laird laughed, and

+laughed again, until the last desperately

+suppressed sounds were something like

+*kee! kee! kee!*  Even Mary Avon pretended to understand.

+

+"There was a real good one," says he,

+obviously overjoyed to have so appreciative

+an audience, "that I mind of reading in the

+Dean's *Reminiscences*.  It was about an old

+leddy in Edinburgh who met in a shop a

+young officer she had seen before.  He was

+a tall young man, and she eyed him from head

+to heel, and says she—ha! ha!—says she,

+'*Od, ye're a lang lad: God gie ye grace.*'  Dry—very

+dry—wasn't it?  There was real

+humour in that—a pawky humour that people

+in the South cannot understand at all.  '*Od*',

+says she, '*ye're a lang lad: God grant ye

+grace.*'  There was a great dale of character

+in that."

+

+We were sure of it; but still we preferred

+the Laird's stories about Homesh.  We

+invariably liked best the stories at which the

+Laird laughed most—whether we quite

+understood their pawky humour or not.

+

+"Dr. Sutherland has a great many stories

+about the Highlanders," says Miss Avon

+timidly; "they are very amusing."

+

+"As far as I have observed," remarked the

+Laird—for how could he relish the notion of

+having a rival anecdote-monger on

+board?—"as far as I have observed, the Highland

+character is entirely without humour.  Ay, I

+have heard Tom Galbraith say that very

+often, and he has been everywhere in the

+Highlands."

+

+"Well, then," says Mary Avon, with a quick

+warmth of indignation in her face—how rapidly

+those soft dark eyes could change their

+expression!—"I hope Mr. Galbraith knows more

+about painting than he knows about the

+Highlanders!  I thought that anybody who knows

+anything knows that the Celtic nature is full

+of imagination, and humour, and pathos, and

+poetry; and the Saxon—the Saxon!—it is his

+business to plod over ploughed fields, and be

+as dull and commonplace as the other animals

+he sees there!"

+

+Gracious goodness!—here was a tempest!

+The Laird was speechless; for, indeed, at this

+moment we bumped against the sacred shores—that

+is to say, the landing-slip—of Iona; and

+had to scramble on to the big stones.  Then

+we walked up and past the cottages, and

+through the potato-field, and past the white

+inn, and so to the hallowed shrine and its

+graves of the kings.  We spent the whole of

+the afternoon there.

+

+When we got back to the yacht and to

+dinner we discovered that a friend had visited

+us in our absence, and had left of his largesse

+behind him—nasturtiums and yellow-and-white

+pansies, and what not—to say nothing of fresh

+milk, and crisp, delightful lettuce.  We drank

+his health.

+

+Was it the fear of some one breaking

+in on our domestic peace that made that

+last evening among the western islands so

+lovely to us?  We went out in the gig after

+dinner; the Laird put forth his engines of

+destruction to encompass the innocent lythe;

+we heard him humming the "Haughs o' Cromdale"

+in the silence.  The wonderful glory of

+that evening!—Iona become an intense

+olive-green against the gold and crimson of the

+sunset; the warm light shining along the red

+granite of western Mull.  Then the yellow

+moon rose in the south—into the calm

+violet-hued vault of the heavens; and there was a

+golden fire on the ripples and on the wet

+blades of the oars as we rowed back with

+laughter and singing.

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Sing tantara! sing tantara!

+   |  Sing tantara! sing tantara!

+   |    Said he, the Highland army rues

+   |    That ere they came to Cromdale!

+   |

+

+And then, next morning, we were up at five

+o'clock.  If we were going to have a tooth

+pulled, why not have the little interview over

+at once?  East Wind would be waiting for us

+at Castle Osprey.

+

+Blow, soft westerly breeze, then, and bear us

+down by Fion-phort, and round the granite

+Ross—shining all a pale red in the early dawn.

+And here is Ardalanish Point; and there, as

+the morning goes by, are the Carsaig arches,

+and then Loch Buy, and finally the blue Firth

+of Lorn.  Northward now, and still

+northward—until, far away, the white house shining

+amidst the firs, and the flag fluttering in the

+summer air.  Have they descried us, then?

+Or is the bunting hoisted in honour of guests?

+The pale cheek of Mary Avon tells a tale as

+she descries that far signal; but that is no

+business of ours.  Perhaps it is only of her

+uncle that she is thinking.

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`OUR NEW GUESTS`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER VI.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   OUR NEW GUESTS.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+Behold, now!—this beautiful garden of

+Castle Osprey all ablaze in the sun—the roses,

+pansies, poppies, and what not bewildering our

+eyes after the long looking at the blue water

+and, in the midst of the brilliant paradise—just

+as we had feared—the snake!  He did not

+scurry away at our approach, as snakes are

+wont to do; or raise his horrent head, and

+hiss.  The fact is, we found him comfortably

+seated under a drooping ash, smoking.  He

+rose and explained that he had strolled up

+from the shore to await our coming.  He did

+not seem to notice that Mary Avon, as she

+came along, had to walk slowly, and was

+leaning on the arm of the Laird.

+

+Certainly nature had not been bountiful to

+this short, spare person who had now come

+among us.  He had closely-cropped, coarse grey

+hair; an eagle beak; a certain pink and raw

+appearance of the face, as if perpetual east winds

+had chafed the skin; and a most pernicious

+habit of loudly clearing his husky throat.

+Then with the aggressive nose went a

+well-defined pugilist's jaw and a general hang-dog

+scowl about the mouth.  For the rest

+Mr. Smethurst seemed desirous of making up for

+those unpleasant features which nature had

+bestowed upon him by a studied air of

+self-possession, and by an extreme precision of

+dress.  Alack, and well-a-day! these laudable

+efforts were of little avail.  Nature was too

+strong for him.  The assumption of a languid

+air was not quite in consonance with the

+ferrety grey eyes and the bull-dog mouth;

+the precision of his costume only gave him

+the look of a well-dressed groom, or a butler

+gone on the turf.  There was not much grateful

+to the sight about Mr. Frederick Smethurst.

+

+But were we to hate the man for being ugly?

+Despite his raw face, he might have the white

+soul of an angel.  And in fact we knew

+absolutely nothing against his public character or

+private reputation, except that he had once

+gone through the Bankruptcy Court; and

+even of that little circumstance our

+womenfolk were not aware.  However, there was no

+doubt at all that a certain coldness—apparent

+to us who knew her well—marked the manner

+of this small lady who now went up and shook

+hands with him, and declared—unblushingly—that

+she was so glad he had run up to

+the Highlands.

+

+"And you know," said she, with that

+charming politeness which she would show to the

+arch-fiend himself if he were properly

+introduced to her, "you know, Mr. Smethurst, that

+yachting is such an uncertain thing, one never

+knows when one may get back; but if you

+could spare a few days to take a run with us,

+you would see what a capital mariner Mary

+has become, and I am sure it would be a

+great pleasure to us."

+

+These were actually her words.  She uttered

+them without the least tremor of hesitation.

+She looked him straight in the face with those

+clear, innocent, confiding eyes of hers.  How

+could the man tell that she was wishing him

+at Jericho?

+

+And it was in silence that we waited to

+hear our doom pronounced.  A yachting

+trip with this intolerable Jonah on board!

+The sunlight went out of the day; the blue

+went out of the sky and the seas; the

+world was filled with gloom, and chaos, and

+East Wind!

+

+Imagine, then, the sudden joy with which

+we heard of our deliverance!  Surely it was

+not the raucous voice of Frederick Smethurst,

+but a sound of summer bells.

+

+"Oh, thank you," he said, in his affectedly

+indifferent way; "but the fact is, I have run up

+to see Mary only on a little matter of business,

+and I must get back at once.  Indeed, I

+purpose leaving by the Dalmally coach in the

+afternoon.  Thank you very much, though;

+perhaps some other time I may be more

+fortunate."

+

+How we had wronged this poor man!  We

+hated him no longer.  On the contrary, great

+grief was expressed over his departure; and

+he was begged at least to stay that one

+evening.  No doubt he had heard of Dr. Angus

+Sutherland, who had made such

+discoveries in the use of anæsthetics?

+Dr. Sutherland was coming by the afternoon

+steamer.  Would not he stay and meet him

+at dinner?

+

+Our tears broke out afresh—metaphorically—when

+East Wind persisted in his intention

+of departure; but of course compulsion was

+out of the question.  And so we allowed him

+to go into the house, to have that business

+interview with his niece.

+

+"A poor crayture!" remarked the Laird

+confidently, forgetting that he was talking of a

+friend of ours.  "Why does he not speak out

+like a man, instead of drawling and dawdling?

+His accent is jist insufferable."

+

+"And what business can he have with

+Mary?" says our sovereign lady sharply—just

+as if a man with a raw skin and an

+eagle-beak must necessarily be a pickpocket.

+"He was the trustee of that little fortune of

+hers, I know; but that is all over.  She got

+the money when she came of age.  What can

+he want to see her about now?"

+

+We concerned ourselves not with that.  It

+was enough for us that the snake was about

+to retreat from our summer paradise of his

+own free will and pleasure.  And Angus

+Sutherland was coming; and the provisioning

+of the yacht had to be seen to; for

+to-morrow—to-morrow we spread our white wings again

+and take flight to the far north!

+

+Never was parting guest so warmly speeded.

+We concealed our tears as the coach rolled

+away.  We waved a hand to him.  And then,

+when it was suggested that the wagonette

+that had brought Mary Avon down from

+Castle Osprey might just as well go along to the

+quay—for the steamer bringing Dr. Sutherland

+would be in shortly—and when we actually did

+set out in that direction, there was so little grief

+on our faces that you could not have told we

+had been bidding farewell to a valued friend

+and relative.

+

+Now if our good-hearted Laird had had a

+grain of jealousy in his nature, he might well

+have resented the manner in which these two

+women spoke of the approaching guest.  In

+their talk the word "he" meant only one

+person.  "He" was sure to come by this

+steamer.  "He" was so punctual in his

+engagements.  Would he bring a gun or a rod;

+or would the sailing be enough amusement for

+him?  What a capital thing it was for him to

+be able to take an interest in some such

+out-of-door exercise, as a distraction to the mind!

+And so forth, and so forth.  The Laird heard

+all this, and his expectations were no doubt

+rising and rising.  Forgetful of his disappointment

+on first seeing Mary Avon, he was in all

+likelihood creating an imaginary figure of

+Angus Sutherland—and, of course, this marvel

+of erudition and intellectual power must be

+a tall, wan, pale person, with the travail of

+thinking written in lines across the spacious

+brow.  The Laird was not aware that for

+many a day after we first made the

+acquaintance of the young Scotch student he was

+generally referred to in our private conversation

+as "Brose."

+

+And, indeed, the Laird did stare considerably

+when he saw—elbowing his way through

+the crowd and making for us with a laugh of

+welcome on the fresh-coloured face—a

+stout-set, muscular, blue-eyed, sandy-haired,

+good-humoured-looking, youngish man; who, instead

+of having anything Celtic about his appearance,

+might have been taken for the son of a

+south-country farmer.  Our young Doctor was

+carrying his own portmanteau, and sturdily shoving

+his way through the porters who would fain

+have seized it.

+

+"I am glad to see you, Angus," said our

+queen regent, holding out her hand; and there

+was no ceremonial politeness in that

+reception—but you should have seen the look in her

+eyes.

+

+Then he went on to the waggonette.

+

+"How do you do, Miss Avon?" said he,

+quite timidly, like a school-boy.  He scarcely

+glanced up at her face, which was regarding

+him with a very pleasant welcome; he seemed

+relieved when he had to turn and seize his

+portmanteau again.  Knowing that he was

+rather fond of driving, our mistress and

+admiral-in-chief offered him the reins, but he

+declined the honour; Mary Avon was sitting

+in front.  "Oh, no, thank you," said he quite

+hastily, and with something uncommonly like a

+blush.  The Laird, if he had been entertaining

+any feeling of jealousy, must have been

+reassured.  This Doctor-fellow was no formidable

+rival.  He spoke very little—he only listened—as

+we drove away to Castle Osprey.  Mary

+Avon was chatting briskly and cheerfully, and

+it was to the Laird that she addressed that

+running fire of nonsense and merry laughter.

+

+But the young Doctor was greatly concerned

+when, on our arrival at Castle Osprey, he saw

+Mary Avon helped down with much care, and

+heard the story of the sprain.

+

+"Who bandages your ankle?" said he at

+once, and without any shyness now.

+

+"I do it myself," said she cheerfully.  "I

+can do it well enough."

+

+"Oh, no, you cannot!" said he abruptly; "a

+person stooping cannot.  The bandage should

+be as tight, and as smooth, as the skin of a

+drum.  You must let some one else do that

+for you."

+

+And he was disposed to resent this walking

+about in the garden before dinner.  What

+business had she to trifle with such a serious

+matter as a sprain?  And a sprain which was

+the recall of an older sprain.  "Did she wish

+to be lame for life?" he asked sharply.

+

+Mary Avon laughed, and said that worse

+things than that had befallen people.  He

+asked her whether she found any pleasure in

+voluntary martyrdom; she blushed a little, and

+turned to the Laird.

+

+The Laird was at this moment laying before

+us the details of a most gigantic scheme.  It

+appeared that the inhabitants of Strathgovan,

+not content with a steam fire-engine, were

+talking about having a public park—actually

+proposing to have a public park, with beds of

+flowers, and iron seats; and, to crown all, a

+gymnasium, where the youths of the neighbourhood

+might twirl themselves on the gay trapeze

+to their hearts' content.  And where the

+subscriptions were to come from; and what were

+the hardiest plants for borders; and whether

+the gymnasium should be furnished with ropes

+or with chains—these matters were weighing

+heavily on the mind of our good friend of

+Denny-mains.  Angus Sutherland relapsed into

+silence, and gazed absently at a tree-fuchsia

+that stood by.

+

+"It is a beautiful tree, is it not?" said a

+voice beside him—that of our midge-like

+empress.

+

+He started.

+

+"Oh, yes," he said cheerfully.  "I was

+thinking I should like to live the life of a

+tree like that, dying in the winter, you know,

+and being quite impervious to frost, and snow,

+and hard weather; and then, as soon as the

+fine warm spring and summer came round,

+coming to life again and spreading yourself out

+to feel all the sunlight and the warm winds.

+That must be a capital life."

+

+"But do you really think they can feel that?

+Why, you must believe that those trees and

+flowers are alive!"

+

+"Does anybody doubt it?" said he quite

+simply.  "They are certainly alive.  Why——"

+

+And here he bethought himself for a moment.

+

+"If I only had a good microscope now," said

+he eagerly, "I would show you the life of a

+plant directly—in every cell of it: did you

+never see the constant life in each cell—the

+motion of the chlorophyll granules circling and

+circling night and day?  Did no one ever show

+you that?"

+

+Well, no one had ever shown us that.  We

+may now and again have entertained angels

+unawares; but we were not always stumbling

+against Fellows of the Royal Society.

+

+"Then I must borrow one somewhere," said

+he decisively, "and show you the secret life of

+even the humblest plant that exists.  And then

+look what a long life it is, in the case of the

+perennial plants.  Did you ever think of that?

+Those great trees in the Yosemite valley—they

+were alive and feeling the warm sunlight and

+the winds about them when Alfred was hiding

+in the marshes; and they were living the same

+undisturbed life when Charles the First had his

+head chopped off; and they were living—in

+peace and quietness—when all Europe had to

+wake up to stamp out the Napoleonic pest;

+and they are alive now and quite careless of

+the little creatures that come to span out their

+circumference, and ticket them, and give them

+ridiculous names.  Had any of the patriarchs a

+life as long as that?"

+

+The Laird eyed this young man askance.

+There was something uncanny about him.

+What might not he say when—in the

+northern solitudes to which we were going—the

+great Semple heresy-case was brought on

+for discussion?

+

+But at dinner the Laird got on very well

+with our new guest; for the latter listened

+most respectfully when Denny-mains was

+demonstrating the exceeding purity, and strength,

+and fitness of the speech used in the south of

+Scotland.  And indeed the Laird was generous.

+He admitted that there were blemishes.  He

+deprecated the introduction of French words;

+and gave us a much longer list of those aliens

+than usually appears in books.  What about

+*conjee*, and *que-vee*, and *fracaw* as used by

+Scotch children and old wives?

+

+Then after dinner—at nine o'clock the

+wonderful glow of the summer evening was still

+filling the drawing-room—the Laird must needs

+have Mary Avon sing to him.  It was not a

+custom of hers.  She rarely would sing a song

+of set purpose.  The linnet sings all day—when

+you do not watch her; but she will not

+sing if you go and ask.

+

+However, on this occasion, her hostess went

+to the piano, and sat down to play the

+accompaniment; and Mary Avon stood beside her

+and sang, in rather a low voice—but it was

+tender enough—some modern version of the

+old ballad of the Queen's Maries.  What were

+the words?  These were of them, any way:—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Yestreen the Queen had four Maries;

+   |  This night she'll hae but three:

+   |  There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,

+   |  And Mary Carmichael, and me.

+   |

+

+But indeed, if you had seen that graceful

+slim figure—clad all in black velvet, with the

+broad band of gold fringe round the neck—and

+the small, shapely, smoothly-brushed head above

+the soft swathes of white muslin—and if you

+had caught a glimpse of the black eyelashes

+drooping outward from the curve of the pale

+cheek—and if you had heard the tender, low

+voice of Mary Avon, you might have forgotten

+about the Queen's Maries altogether.

+

+And then Dr. Sutherland: the Laird was

+determined—in true Scotch fashion—that

+everybody who could not sing should be

+goaded to sing.

+

+"Oh, well," said the young man, with a

+laugh, "you know a student in Germany must

+sing whether he can or not.  And I learned

+there to smash out something like an

+accompaniment also."

+

+And he went to the piano without more ado

+and did smash out an accompaniment.  And if

+his voice was rather harsh?—well, we should

+have called it raucous in the case of East

+Wind, but we only called it manly and

+strenuous when it was Angus Sutherland who sang.

+And it was a manly song, too—a fitting song

+for our last night on shore, the words hailing

+from the green woods of Fuinary, the air an

+air that had many a time been heard among

+the western seas.  It was the song of the

+Biorlinn[#] that he sang to us; we could hear

+the brave chorus and the splash of the long oars:—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Send the biorlinn on careering!

+   |  Cheerily and all together—

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |  A long, strong pull together—

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |

+   |  Give her way and show her wake

+   |  'Mid showering spray and curling eddies—

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |  A long, strong pull together—

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+

+Do we not hear now the measured stroke in the

+darkness of the morning?  The water springs

+from her bows; one by one the headlands are

+passed.  But lo! the day is breaking; the dawn

+will surely bring a breeze with it; and then the

+sail of the gallant craft will bear her over the

+seas:—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Another cheer, our Isle appears!

+   |  Our biorlinn bears her on the faster—

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |  A long, strong pull together—

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |

+   |  Ahead she goes! the land she knows!

+   |  Behold! the snowy shores of Canna—

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |  A long, strong pull together—

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+

+A long, strong pull together indeed: who could

+resist joining in the thunder of the chorus?

+And we were bound for Canna, too: this was

+our last night on shore.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+.. class:: noindent small

+

+[#] *Biorlinn*—that is, a rowing-boat.  The word is pronounced

+*byurlen*.  The song, which in a measure imitates the rhythm

+peculiar to Highland poetry—consisting in a certain repetition

+of the same vowel sounds—is the production of Dr. Macleod,

+of Morven.  And here, for the benefit of any one who minds

+such things, is a rough draft of the air, arranged by a most

+charming young lady, who, however, says she would much

+rather die than have her name mentioned:—

+

+.. figure:: images/img-092.jpg

+   :align: center

+   :alt: Music fragments

+

+   Music fragments

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+Our last night on shore.  In such circumstances

+one naturally has a glance round at the

+people with whom one is to be brought into

+such close contact for many and many a day.

+But in this particular case, what was the use

+of speculating, or grumbling, or remonstrating?

+There is a certain household that is ruled with

+a rod of iron.  And if the mistress of that

+household chose to select as her summer companions

+a "shilpit bit thing," and a hard-headed,

+ambitious Scotch student, and a parochial

+magnate haunted by a heresy-case, how dared one

+object?  There is such a thing as peace and

+quietness.

+

+But however unpromising the outlook might

+be, do we not know the remark that is usually

+made by that hard-worked officer, the chief

+mate, when, on the eve of a voyage, he finds

+himself confronted by an unusually mongrel

+crew?  He regards those loafers and outcasts—from

+the Bowery, and Ratcliffe Highway,

+and the Broomielaw—Greeks, niggers, and

+Mexicans—with a critical and perhaps scornful

+air, and forthwith proceeds to address them in

+the following highly polished manner:—

+

+"By etcetera-etcetera, you are an etceteraed

+rum-looking lot; but etcetera-etcetera me *if I

+don't lick you into shape before we get to Rio*."

+

+And so—good-night!—and let all good

+people pray for fair skies and a favouring

+breeze!  And if there is any song to be heard

+in our dreams, let it be the song of the Queen's

+Maries—in the low, tender voice of Mary Avon:—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,

+   |  And Mary Carmichael, and me.

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`NORTHWARD`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER VII.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   NORTHWARD.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+We have bidden good-bye to the land; the

+woods and the green hills have become pale

+in the haze of the summer light; we are out

+here, alone, on the shining blue plain.  And

+if our young Doctor betrays a tendency to

+keep forward—conversing with John of Skye

+about blocks, and tackle, and winches; and

+if the Laird—whose parental care and regard

+for Mary Avon is becoming beautiful to

+see—should have quite a monopoly of the young

+lady, and be more bent than ever on amusing

+her with his "good ones;" and if our queen

+and governor should spend a large portion

+of her time below, in decorating cabins with

+flowers, in overhauling napery, and in earnest

+consultation with Master Fred about certain

+culinary mysteries; notwithstanding all these

+divergences of place and occupation, our little

+kingdom afloat is compact enough.  There is

+always, for example, a reassembling at meals.

+There is an instant community of interest when

+a sudden cry calls all hands on deck to regard

+some new thing—the spouting of a whale or the

+silvery splashing of a shoal of mackerel.  But

+now—but now—if only some cloud-compelling

+Jove would break this insufferably fine weather,

+and give us a tearing good gale!

+

+It is a strange little kingdom.  It has no

+postal service.  Shilling telegrams are unknown

+in it; there is no newspaper at breakfast.

+There are no barrel-organs; nor rattling

+hansoms raising the dust in windy streets; there

+is no afternoon scandal; overheated rooms at

+midnight are a thing of the past.  Serene,

+independent, self-centred, it minds its own

+affairs; if the whole of Europe were roaring

+for war, not even an echo of the cry would

+reach us.  We only hear the soft calling of

+the sea-birds as we sit and read, or talk,

+or smoke; from time to time watching the

+shadows move on the blistering hot decks,

+or guessing at the names of the blue mountains

+that rise above Loch Etive and Lochaber.  At

+the present moment there is a faint summer

+haze over these mountains; as yet we have

+around us none of the dazzling light and

+strangely intense colours that are peculiar to

+this part of the world, and that are only

+possible, in fact, in an atmosphere frequently

+washed clear by squalls of rain.  This question

+of rain turns up at lunch.

+

+"They prayed for rain in the churches last

+Sunday—so Captain John says," Mary Avon

+remarks.

+

+"The distilleries are stopped: that's very

+serious," continues the Laird.

+

+"Well," says Queen T., "people talk about

+the rain in the West Highlands.  It must be

+true, as everybody says it is true.  But

+now—excepting the year we went to America with

+Sylvia Balfour—we have been here for five

+years running; and each year we made up

+our mind for a deluge—thinking we had

+deserved it, you know.  Well, it never came.

+Look at this now."

+

+And the fact was that we were lying motionless

+on the smooth bosom of the Atlantic, with

+the sun so hot on the decks that we were glad

+to get below.

+

+"Very strange—very strange, indeed,"

+remarked the Laird, with a profound air.  "Now

+what value are we to put on any historical

+evidence if we find such a conflict of testimony

+about what is at our own doors?  How should

+there be two opeenions about the weather in the

+West Highlands?  It is a matter of common

+experience—dear me!  I never heard the like."

+

+"Oh, but I think we might try to reconcile

+those diverse opinions!" said Angus Sutherland,

+with an absolute gravity.  "You hear mostly

+the complaints of London people, who make

+much of a passing shower.  Then the tourist

+and holiday folk, especially from the South,

+come in the autumn, when the fine summer

+weather has broken.  And then," he added,

+addressing himself with a frank smile to the

+small creature who had been expressing her

+wonder over the fine weather, "perhaps, if you

+are pleased with your holiday on the whole, you

+are not anxious to remember the wet days; and

+then you are not afraid of a shower, I know;

+and besides that, when one is yachting, one is

+more anxious for wind than for fine weather."

+

+"Oh, I am sure that is it!" called out Mary

+Avon quite eagerly.  She did not care how

+she destroyed the Laird's convictions about

+the value of historical evidence.  "That is an

+explanation of the whole thing."

+

+At this, our young Doctor—-who had been

+professing to treat this matter seriously merely

+as a joke—quickly lowered his eyes.  He

+scarcely ever looked Mary Avon in the face

+when she spoke to him, or when he had to

+speak to her.  And a little bit of shy

+embarrassment in his manner towards her—perceivable

+only at times—was all the more

+singular in a man who was shrewd and

+hard-headed enough, who had knocked about the

+world and seen many persons and things, and

+who had a fair amount of unassuming

+self-confidence, mingled with a vein of sly and

+reticent humour.  He talked freely enough

+when he was addressing our admiral-in-chief.

+He was not afraid to meet *her* eyes.  Indeed,

+they were so familiar friends that she called

+him by his Christian name—a practice which

+in general she detested.  But she would as

+soon have thought of applying "Mr." to one

+of her own boys at Epsom College as to

+Angus Sutherland.

+

+"Well, you know, Angus," says she pleasantly,

+"you have definitely promised to go

+up to the Outer Hebrides with us, and back.

+The longer the calms last, the longer we shall

+have you.  So we shall gladly put up with

+the fine weather."

+

+"It is very kind of you to say so; but I

+have already had such a long holiday——"

+

+"Oh!" said Mary Avon, with her eyes full

+of wonder and indignation.  She was too

+surprised to say any more.  She only stared

+at him.  She knew he had been working

+night and day in Edinburgh.

+

+"I mean," said he hastily, and looking down,

+"I have been away so long from London.

+Indeed, I was getting rather anxious about

+my next month's number; but luckily, just

+before I left Edinburgh, a kind friend sent

+me a most valuable paper, so I am quite at

+ease again.  Would you like to read it, sir?

+It is set up in type."

+

+He took the sheets from his pocket, and

+handed them to the Laird.  Denny-mains

+looked at the title.  It was *On the Radiolarians

+of the Coal Measures*, and it was the

+production of a well-known professor.  The

+Laird handed back the paper without opening it.

+

+"No, thank you," said he, with some dignity.

+"If I wished to be instructed, I would like a

+safer guide than that man."

+

+We looked with dismay on this dangerous

+thing that had been brought on board: might

+it not explode and blow up the ship?

+

+"Why," said our Doctor, in unaffected

+wonder, and entirely mistaking the Laird's

+exclamation, "he is a perfect master of his subject."

+

+"There is a great deal too much speculation

+nowadays on these matters, and parteecularly

+among the younger men," remarked the Laird

+severely.  And he looked at Angus Sutherland.

+"I suppose now ye are well acquainted

+with the *Vestiges of Creation*?"

+

+"I have heard of the book," said Brose—regretfully

+confessing his ignorance, "but I

+never happened to see it."

+

+The Laird's countenance lightened.

+

+"So much the better—so much the better.

+A most mischievous and unsettling book.  But

+all the harm it can do is counteracted by a

+noble work—a conclusive work that leaves

+nothing to be said.  Ye have read the

+*Testimony of the Rocks*, no doubt?"

+

+"Oh, yes, certainly," our Doctor was glad

+to be able to say; "but—but it was a long

+time ago—when I was a boy, in fact."

+

+"Boy, or man, you'll get no better book

+on the history of the earth.  I tell ye, sir, I

+never read a book that placed such firm

+conviction in my mind.  Will ye get any of the

+new men they are talking about as keen an

+observer and as skilful in arguing as Hugh

+Miller?  No, no; not one of them dares to

+try to upset the *Testimony of the Rocks*."

+

+Angus Sutherland appealed against this

+sentence of finality only in a very humble way.

+

+"Of course, sir," said he meekly, "you know

+that science is still moving forward——"

+

+"Science?" repeated the Laird.  "Science

+may be moving forward or moving backward;

+but can it upset the facts of the earth?

+Science may say what it likes; but the facts

+remain the same."

+

+Now this point was so conclusive that we

+unanimously hailed the Laird as victor.  Our

+young Doctor submitted with an excellent

+good humour.  He even promised to post

+that paper on the Radiolarians at the very

+first post-office we might reach: we did not

+want any such explosive compounds on board.

+

+That night we only got as far as Fishnish

+Bay—a solitary little harbour probably down

+on but few maps; and that we had to reach

+by getting out the gig for a tow.  There was

+a strange bronze-red in the northern skies, long

+after the sun had set; but in here the shadow

+of the great mountains was on the water.  We

+could scarcely see the gig; but Angus Sutherland

+had joined the men and was pulling

+stroke; and along with the measured splash

+of the oars, we heard something about "*Ho,

+ro, clansmen!*"  Then, in the cool night air,

+there was a slight fragrance of peat-smoke;

+we knew we were getting near the shore.

+

+"He's a fine fellow, that," says the Laird,

+generously, of his defeated antagonist.  "A

+fine fellow.  His knowledge of different things

+is just remarkable; and he's as modest as a

+girl.  Ay, and he can row, too; a while ago

+when it was lighter, I could see him put his

+shoulders into it.  Ay, he's a fine, good-natured

+fellow, and I am glad he has not been led

+astray by that mischievous book, the *Vestiges

+of Creation*."

+

+Come on board now, boys, and swing up

+the gig to the davits!  Twelve fathoms of

+chain?—away with her then!—and there is a

+roar in the silence of the lonely little bay.

+And thereafter silence; and the sweet

+fragrance of the peat in the night air, and the

+appearance, above the black hills, of a clear,

+shining, golden planet that sends a quivering

+line of light across the water to us.  And,

+once more, good-night and pleasant dreams!

+

+But what is this in the morning?  There

+have been no pleasant dreams for John of

+Skye and his merry men during the last night;

+for here we are already between Mingary Bay

+and Ru-na-Gaul Lighthouse; and before us is

+the open Atlantic, blue under the fair skies

+of the morning.  And here is Dr. Sutherland,

+at the tiller, with a suspiciously negligent look

+about his hair and shirt-collar.

+

+"I have been up since four," says he, with a

+laugh.  "I heard them getting under way,

+and did not wish to miss anything.  You know

+these places are not so familiar to me as

+they are to you."

+

+"Is there going to be any wind to-day, John?"

+

+"No mich," says John of Skye, looking at

+the cloudless blue vault above the glassy

+sweeps of the sea.

+

+Nevertheless, as the morning goes by, we

+get as much of a breeze as enables us to draw

+away from the mainland—round Ardnamurchan

+("the headland of the great sea") and out into

+the open—with Muick Island, and the sharp

+Scuir of Eigg, and the peaks of Rum lying over

+there on the still Atlantic, and far away in the

+north the vast and spectral mountains of Skye.

+

+And now the work of the day begins.  Mary

+Avon, for mere shame's sake, is at last

+compelled to produce one of her blank canvases

+and open her box of tubes.  And now it

+would appear that Angus Sutherland—though

+deprived of the authority of the sick-room—is

+beginning to lose his fear of the English

+young lady.  He makes himself useful—not

+with the elaborate and patronising courtesy of

+the Laird, but in a sort of submissive, matter-of-fact

+shifty fashion.  He sheathes the spikes

+of her easel with cork so that they shall not

+mark the deck.  He rigs up, to counterbalance

+that lack of stability, a piece of cord with a

+heavy weight.  Then, with the easel fixed, he

+fetches her a deck-chair to sit in, and a

+deck-stool for her colours, and these and her he

+places under the lee of the foresail, to be out

+of the glare of the sun.  Thus our artist is

+started; she is going to make a sketch of the

+after-part of the yacht with Hector of Moidart

+at the tiller: beyond, the calm blue seas, and

+a faint promontory of land.

+

+Then the Laird—having confidentially

+remarked to Miss Avon that Tom Galbraith,

+than whom there is no greater authority living,

+invariably moistens the fresh canvas with

+megilp before beginning work—has turned to

+the last report of the Semple case.

+

+"No, no," says he to our sovereign lady,

+who is engaged in some mysterious work in

+wool, "it does not look well for the Presbytery

+to go over every one of the charges in the

+major proposeetion—supported by the

+averments in the minor—only to find them

+irrelevant; and then bring home to him the part

+of the libel that deals with tendency.  No, no;

+that shows a lamentable want of purpose.  In

+view of the great danger to be apprehended

+from these secret assaults on the inspiration

+of the Scriptures, they should have stuck to

+each charge with tenahcity.  Now, I will just

+show ye where Dr. Carnegie, in defending

+*Secundo*—illustrated as it was with the extracts

+and averments in the minor—let the whole

+thing slip through his fingers."

+

+But if any one were disposed to be absolutely

+idle on this calm, shining, beautiful day—far

+away from the cares and labours of the

+land?  Out on the taffrail, under shadow of

+the mizen, there is a seat that is gratefully

+cool.  The Mare of the sea no longer bewilders

+the eyes; one can watch with a lazy

+enjoyment the teeming life of the open

+Atlantic.  The great skarts go whizzing by,

+long-necked, rapid of flight.  The gannets

+poise in the air, and then there is a sudden

+dart downwards, and a spout of water flashes

+up where the bird has dived.  The guillemots

+fill the silence with their soft kurrooing—and

+here they are on all sides of us—*Kirroo!

+Kurroo!*—dipping their bills in the water,

+hastening away from the vessel, and then

+rising on the surface to flap their wings.  But

+this is a strange thing: they are all in

+pairs—obviously mother and child—and the mother

+calls *Kurroo!  Kurroo!*—and the young one

+unable as yet to dive or swim, answers

+*Pe-yoo-it!  Pe-yoo-it!* and flutters and paddles

+after her.  But where is the father?  And has

+the guillemot only one of a family?  Over

+that one, at all events, she exercises a valiant

+protection.  Even though the stem of the

+yacht seems likely to run both of them down,

+she will neither dive nor fly until she has

+piloted the young one out of danger.

+

+Then a sudden cry startles the Laird from

+his heresy-case and Mary Avon from her

+canvas.  A sound far away has turned all

+eyes to the north; though there is nothing

+visible there, over the shining calm of the

+sea, but a small cloud of white spray that

+slowly sinks.  In a second or two, however,

+we see another jet of white water arise; and

+then a great brown mass heave slowly over;

+and then we hear the spouting of the whale.

+

+"What a huge animal!" cries one.  "A

+hundred feet!"

+

+"Eighty, any way!"

+

+The whale is sheering off to the north:

+there is less and less chance of our forming

+any correct estimate.

+

+"Oh, I am sure it was a hundred!  Don't

+you think so, Angus?" says our admiral.

+

+"Well," says the Doctor, slowly—pretending

+to be very anxious about keeping the sails full

+(when there was no wind)—"you know there

+is a great difference between 'yacht

+measurement' and 'registered tonnage.'  A vessel of

+fifty registered tons may become eighty or

+ninety by yacht measurement.  And I have

+often noticed," continues this graceless young

+man, who takes no thought how he is bringing

+contempt on his elders, "that objects seen from

+the deck of a yacht are naturally subject to

+'yacht measurement.'  I don't know what the

+size of that whale may be.  Its registered

+tonnage, I suppose, would be the number of

+Jonahs it could carry.  But I should think that

+if the apparent 'yacht measurement' was a

+hundred feet, the whale was probably about

+twenty feet long."

+

+It was thus he tried to diminish the marvels

+of the deep!  But, however he might crush us

+otherwise, we were his masters on one point.

+The Semple heresy-case was too deep even

+for him.  What could he make of "*the first

+alternative of the general major*"?

+

+And see now, on this calm summer evening,

+we pass between Muick and Eigg; and the

+sea is like a plain of gold.  As we draw near

+the sombre mass of Rum, the sunset deepens,

+and a strange lurid mist hangs around this

+remote and mountainous island rising sheer

+from the Atlantic.  Gloomy and mysterious

+are the vast peaks of Haleval and Haskeval;

+we creep under them—favoured by a flood-tide—and

+the silence of the desolate shores seems

+to spread out from them and to encompass us.

+

+Mary Avon has long ago put away her

+canvas; she sits and watches; and her soft

+black eyes are full of dreaming as she gazes

+up at those thunder-dark mountains against the

+rosy haze of the west.

+

+"Haleval and Haskeval?" Angus Sutherland

+repeats, in reply to his hostess; but he starts

+all the same, for he has been covertly regarding

+the dark and wistful eyes of the girl sitting

+there.  "Oh, these are Norse names.  Scuir

+na Gillean, on the other hand, is Gaelic—it is

+*the peak of the young men*.  Perhaps, the

+Norsemen had the north of the island, and

+the Celts the south."

+

+Whether they were named by Scandinavian

+or by Celt, Haleval and Haskeval seemed to

+overshadow us with their sultry gloom as we

+slowly glided into the lonely loch lying at their

+base.  We were the only vessel there; and we

+could make out no sign of life on shore, until

+the glass revealed to us one or two half-ruined

+cottages.  The northern twilight shone in the

+sky far into the night; but neither that clear

+metallic glow, nor any radiance from moon, or

+planet, or star, seemed to affect the thunder-darkness

+of Haskeval and Haleval's silent peaks.

+

+There was another tale to tell below—the

+big saloon aglow with candles; the white table-cover

+with its centre-piece of roses, nasturtiums,

+and ferns; the delayed dinner, or supper, or

+whatever it might be called, all artistically arranged;

+our young Doctor most humbly solicitous

+that Mary Avon should be comfortably seated,

+and, in fact, quite usurping the office of the

+Laird in that respect; and then a sudden sound

+in the galley, a hissing as of a thousand squibs,

+telling us that Master Fred had once more and

+ineffectually tried to suppress the released genie

+of the bottle by jamming down the cork.

+Forthwith the Laird, with his old-fashioned

+ways, must needs propose a health, which is

+that of our most sovereign and midge-like

+mistress; and this he does with an elaborate

+and gracious and sonorous courtesy.  And

+surely there is no reason why Mary Avon

+should not for once break her habit and join

+in that simple ceremony; especially when it

+is a real live Doctor—and not only a Doctor,

+but an encyclopædia of scientific and all other

+knowledge—who would fain fill her glass?

+Angus Sutherland timidly but seriously pleads;

+and he does not plead in vain; and you would

+think from his look that she had conferred an

+extraordinary favour on him.  Then we—we

+propose a health too—the health of the FOUR

+WINDS! and we do not care which of them it

+is who is coming to-morrow, so long as he

+or she comes in force.  Blow, breezes, blow!—from

+the Coolins of Skye, or the shores of

+Coll, or the glens of Arisaig and Moidart—for

+to-morrow morning we shake out once more

+the white wings of the *White Dove*, and set

+forth for the loneliness of the northern seas.

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER VIII.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+Now the Laird has a habit—laudable or not—of

+lingering over an additional half-cup at

+breakfast, as an excuse for desultory talk; and

+thus it is, on this particular morning, the young

+people having gone on deck to see the yacht get

+under way, that Denny-mains has a chance

+of revealing to us certain secret schemes of his

+over which he has apparently been brooding.

+How could we have imagined that all this

+plotting and planning had been going on

+beneath the sedate exterior of the

+Commissioner for the Burgh of Strathgovan?

+

+"She's just a wonderful bit lass!" he says,

+confidently, to his hostess; "as happy and

+contented as the day is long; and when she's

+not singing to herself, her way of speech has a

+sort of—a sort of music in it that is quite new

+to me.  Yes, I must admit that; I did not

+know that the southern English tongue was

+so accurate and pleasant to the ear.  Ay,

+but what will become of her?"

+

+What, indeed!  The lady whom he was

+addressing had often spoken to him of Mary

+Avon's isolated position in the world.

+

+"It fairly distresses me," continues the

+good-hearted Laird, "when I think of her

+condeetion—not at present, when she has, if I may be

+allowed to say so, *several* friends near her

+who would be glad to do what they could for

+her; but by and by, when she is becoming

+older——"

+

+The Laird hesitated.  Was it possible, after

+all, that he was about to hint at the chance of

+Mary Avon becoming the mistress of the

+mansion and estate of Denny-mains?  Then

+he made a plunge.

+

+"A young woman in her position should

+have a husband to protect her, that is what

+I am sure of.  Have ye never thought of it,

+ma'am?"

+

+"I should like very well to see Mary

+married," says the other, demurely.  "And I

+know she would make an excellent wife."

+

+"An excellent wife!" exclaims the Laird;

+and then he adds, with a tone approaching to

+severity, "I tell ye he will be a fortunate man

+that gets her.  Oh, ay; I have watched her.

+I can keep my eyes open when there is need.

+Did you hear her asking the captain about his

+wife and children?  I tell you there's *human

+nature* in that lass."

+

+There was no need for the Laird to be so

+pugnacious; we were not contesting the point.

+However, he resumed—

+

+"I have been thinking," said he, with a little

+more shyness, "about my nephew.  He's a

+good lad.  Well, ye know, ma'am, that I do

+not approve of young men being brought up in

+idleness, whatever their prospects must be;

+and I have no doubt whatever that my nephew

+Howard is working hard enough—what with the

+reading of law-books, and attending the courts,

+and all that—though as yet he has not had

+much business.  But then there is no necessity.

+I do not think he is a lad of any great

+ambeetion, like your friend Mr. Sutherland, who has

+to fight his way in the world in any case.  But

+Howard—I have been thinking now that if he

+was to get married and settled, he might give

+up the law business altogether; and, if they

+were content to live in Scotland, he might look

+after Denny-mains.  It will be his in any case,

+ye know; he would have the interest of a man

+looking after his own property.  Now, I will

+tell ye plainly, ma'am, what I have been

+thinking about this day or two back; if Howard

+would marry your young lady friend, that

+would be agreeable to me."

+

+The calm manner in which the Laird

+announced his scheme showed that it had been

+well matured.  It was a natural, simple, feasible

+arrangement, by which two persons in whom he

+took a warm interest would be benefited at once.

+

+"But then, sir," said his hostess, with a

+smile which she could not wholly repress, "you

+know people never do marry to please a third

+person—at least, very seldom."

+

+"Oh, there can be no forcing," said the Laird

+with decision.  "But I have done a great deal

+for Howard; may I not expect that he will do

+something for me?"

+

+"Oh, doubtless, doubtless," says this amiable

+lady, who has had some experience in match-making

+herself; "but I have generally found

+that marriages that would be in every way

+suitable and pleasing to friends, and obviously

+desirable, are precisely the marriages that never

+come off.  Young people, when they are flung

+at each other's heads, to use the common

+phrase, never will be sensible and please their

+relatives.  Now if you were to bring your

+nephew here, do you think Mary would fall in

+love with him because she ought?  More

+likely you would find that, out of pure

+contrariety, she would fall in love with

+Angus Sutherland, who cannot afford to

+marry, and whose head is filled with other

+things."

+

+"I am not sure, I am not sure," said the

+Laird, musingly.  "Howard is a good-looking

+young fellow, and a capital lad, too.  I am not

+so sure."

+

+"And then, you know," said the other shyly,

+for she will not plainly say anything to Mary's

+disparagement, "young men have different

+tastes in their choice of a wife.  He might not

+have the high opinion of her that you have."

+

+At this the Laird gave a look of surprise—even

+of resentment.

+

+"Then I'll tell ye what it is, ma'am," said

+he, almost angrily; "if my nephew had the

+chance of marrying such a girl, and did not do

+so, I should consider him—I should consider

+him *a fool*, and say so."

+

+And then he added, sharply—

+

+"And do ye think I would let Denny-mains

+pass into the hands of *a fool*?"

+

+Now this kind lady had had no intention of

+rousing the wrath of the Laird in this manner;

+and she instantly set about pacifying him.  And

+the Laird was easily pacified.  In a minute or

+two he was laughing good-naturedly at himself

+for getting into a passion; he said it would not

+do for one at his time of life to try to play the

+part of the stern father as they played that in

+theatre pieces—there was to be no forcing.

+

+"But he's a good lad, ma'am, a good lad,"

+said he, rising as his hostess rose; and he

+added, significantly, "he is no fool, I assure ye,

+ma'am; he has plenty of common sense."

+

+When we get up on deck again, we find that

+the *White Dove* is gently gliding out of the

+lonely Loch Scresorst, with its solitary house

+among the trees, and its crofters' huts at the

+base of the sombre hills.  And as the light cool

+breeze—gratefully cool after the blazing heat of

+the last day or two—carries us away

+northward, we see more and more of the awful

+solitudes of Haleval and Haskeval, that are

+still thunderous and dark under the hazy sky.

+Above the great shoulders, and under the

+purple peaks, we see the far-reaching corries

+opening up, with here and there a white

+waterfall just visible in the hollows.  There is a

+sense of escape as we draw away from that

+overshadowing gloom.

+

+Then we discover that we have a new

+skipper to-day, *vice* John of Skye, deposed.

+The fresh hand is Mary Avon, who is at the

+tiller, and looking exceedingly business-like.

+She has been promoted to this post by

+Dr. Sutherland, who stands by; she receives

+explanations about the procedure of Hector of

+Moidart, who is up aloft, lacing the smaller

+topsail to the mast; she watches the operations

+of John of Skye and Sandy, who are at the sheets

+below; and, like a wise and considerate captain,

+she pretends not to notice Master Fred, who is

+having a quiet smoke by the windlass.  And

+so, past those lonely shores sails the brave

+vessel—the yawl *White Dove*, Captain Mary

+Avon, bound for anywhere.

+

+But you must not imagine that the new

+skipper is allowed to stand by the tiller.

+Captain though she may be, she has to submit

+civilly to dictation, in so far as her foot is

+concerned, Our young Doctor has compelled her

+to be seated, and he has passed a rope round

+the tiller that so she can steer from her chair,

+and from time to time he gives suggestions,

+which she receives as orders.

+

+"I wish I had been with you when you first

+sprained your foot," he says.

+

+"Yes?" she answers, with humble inquiry in

+her eyes.

+

+"I would have put it in plaster of Paris," he

+says, in a matter-of-fact way, "and locked you

+up in the house for a fortnight; at the end of

+that time you would not know which ankle was

+the sprained one."

+

+There was neither "with your leave" nor

+"by your leave" in this young man's manner

+when he spoke of that accident.  He would

+have taken possession of her.  He would have

+discarded your bandages and hartshorn, and

+what not; when it was Mary Avon's foot that

+was concerned—it was intimated to us—he would

+have had his own way in spite of all comers.

+

+"I wish I had known," she says, timidly,

+meaning that it was the treatment she wished

+she had known.

+

+"There is a more heroic remedy," said he,

+with a smile; "and that is walking the sprain

+off.  I believe that can be done, but most

+people would shrink from the pain.  Of course,

+if it were done at all, it would be done by a

+woman; women can bear pain infinitely better

+than men."

+

+"Oh, do you think so!" she says, in mild

+protest.  "Oh, I am sure not.  Men are so much

+braver than women, so much stronger——"

+

+But this gentle quarrel is suddenly stopped,

+for some one calls attention to a deer that is

+calmly browsing on one of the high slopes

+above that rocky shore, and instantly all glasses

+are in request.  It is a hind, with a beautifully

+shaped head and slender legs; she takes no

+notice of the passing craft, but continues her

+feeding, walking a few steps onward from time

+to time.  In this way she reaches the edge of a

+gully in the rugged cliffs where there is some

+brushwood, and probably a stream; into this

+she sedately descends, and we see her no more.

+

+Then there is another cry; what is this

+cloud ahead, or waterspout resting on the

+calm bosom of the sea?  Glasses again in

+request, amid many exclamations, reveal to

+us that this is a dense cloud of birds; a flock

+so vast that towards the water it seems black;

+can it be the dead body of a whale that has

+collected this world of wings from all the

+Northern seas?  Hurry on, *White Dove*; for

+the floating cloud with the black base is moving

+and seething—in fantastic white fumes, as it

+were—in the loveliness of this summer day.

+And now, as we draw nearer, we can descry

+that there is no dead body of a whale causing

+that blackness; but only the density of the

+mass of seafowl.  And nearer and nearer as

+we draw, behold! the great gannets swooping

+down in such numbers that the sea is covered

+with a mist of waterspouts; and the air is

+filled with innumerable cries; and we do not

+know what to make of this bewildering, fluttering,

+swimming, screaming mass of terns, guillemots,

+skarts, kittiwakes, razorbills, puffins, and

+gulls.  But they draw away again.  The

+herring-shoal is moving northward.  The

+murmur of cries becomes more remote, and

+the seething cloud of the sea-birds is slowly

+dispersing.  When the *White Dove* sails up

+to the spot at which this phenomenon was

+first seen, there is nothing visible but a

+scattered assemblage of guillemots—*kurroo! kurroo!*

+answered by *pe-yoo-it! pe-yoo-it!*—and

+great gannets—"as big as a sheep," says

+John of Skye—apparently so gorged that they

+lie on the water within stone's-throw of the

+yacht, before spreading out their long,

+snow-white, black-tipped wings to bear them away

+over the sea.

+

+And now, as we are altering our course to

+the west—far away to our right stand the vast

+Coolins of Skye—we sail along the northern

+shores of Rum.  There is no trace of any

+habitation visible; nothing but the precipitous

+cliffs, and the sandy bays, and the outstanding

+rocks dotted with rows of shining black skarts.

+When Mary Avon asks why those sandy bays

+should be so red, and why a certain ruddy

+warmth of colour should shine through even

+the patches of grass, our F.R.S. begins to

+speak of powdered basalt rubbed down from

+the rocks above.  He would have her begin

+another sketch, but she is too proud of her

+newly acquired knowledge to forsake the tiller.

+

+The wind is now almost dead aft, and we

+have a good deal of gybing.  Other people

+might think that all this gybing was an evidence

+of bad steering on the part of our new skipper;

+but Angus Sutherland—and we cannot

+contradict an F.R.S.—assures Miss Avon that

+she is doing remarkably well; and, as he

+stands by to lay hold of the main sheet when

+the boom swings over, we are not in much

+danger of carrying away either port or

+starboard davits.

+

+"Do you know," says he lightly, "I

+sometimes think I ought to apply for the post of

+surgeon on board a man-of-war?  That would

+just suit me——"

+

+"Oh, I hope you will not," she blurts out

+quite inadvertently; and thereafter there is

+a deep blush on her face.

+

+"I should enjoy it immensely, I know,"

+says he, wholly ignorant of her embarrassment,

+because he is keeping an eye on the sails.

+"I believe I should have more pleasure in

+life that way than any other——"

+

+"But you do not live for your own pleasure,"

+says she hastily, perhaps to cover her confusion.

+

+"I have no one else to live for, any way,"

+says he, with a laugh; and then he corrected

+himself.  "Oh, yes, I have.  My father is a

+sad heretic.  He has fallen away from the

+standards of his faith; he has set up

+idols—the diplomas and medals I have got from

+time to time.  He has them all arranged in

+his study, and I have heard that he positively

+sits down before them and worships them.

+When I sent him the medal from Vienna—it

+was only bronze—he returned to me his

+Greek Testament, that he had interleaved and

+annotated when he was a student; I believe

+it was his greatest possession."

+

+"And you would give up all that he expects

+from you to go away and be a doctor on board

+a ship!" says Mary Avon, with some proud

+emphasis.  "That would not be my ambition

+if I were a man, and—and—if I had—if——"

+

+Well, she could not quite say to Brose's face

+what she thought of his powers and prospects;

+so she suddenly broke away and said—

+

+"Yes; you would go and do that for your

+own amusement?  And what would the

+amusement be?  Do you think they would let the

+doctor interfere with the sailing of the ship?"

+

+"Well," said he, laughing, "that is a

+practical objection.  I don't suppose the

+captain of a man-of-war or even of a merchant

+vessel would be as accommodating as your

+John of Skye.  Captain John has his

+compensation when he is relieved; he can go

+forward, and light his pipe."

+

+"Well, I think for *your father's sake*," says

+Miss Avon, with decision, "you had better

+put that idea out of your head, once and

+for all."

+

+Now blow, breezes, blow!  What is the

+great headland that appears, striking out into

+the wide Atlantic?

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Ahead she goes! the land she knows!

+   |  Behold! the snowy shores of Canna!

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |  A long, strong pull together,

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |

+

+"Tom Galbraith," the Laird is saying

+solemnly to his hostess, "has assured me that

+Rum is the most picturesque island on the

+whole of the western coast of Scotland.  That

+is his deleeberate opinion.  And indeed I would

+not go so far as to say he was wrong.  Arran!

+They talk about Arran!  Just look at those

+splendid mountains coming sheer down to the

+sea; and the light of the sun on them!  Eh

+me, what a sunset there will be this night!"

+

+"Canna?" says Dr. Sutherland, to his

+interlocutor, who seems very anxious to be

+instructed.  "Oh, I don't know.  *Canna* in

+Gaelic is simply a can; but then *Cana* is

+a whale; and the island in the distance

+looks long and flat on the water.  Or it

+may be from *canach*—that is, the moss-cotton;

+or from *cannach*—that is, the sweet-gale.

+You see, Miss Avon, ignorant people have

+an ample choice."

+

+Blow! breezes blow! as the yellow light of

+the afternoon shines over the broad Atlantic.

+Here are the eastern shores of Canna, high

+and rugged, and dark with caves; and there

+the western shores of Rum, the mighty

+mountains aglow in the evening light.  And this

+remote and solitary little bay, with its green

+headlands, and its awkward rocks at the mouth,

+and the one house presiding over it amongst

+that shining wilderness of shrubs and flowers?

+Here is fair shelter for the night.

+

+After dinner, in the lambent twilight, we set

+out with the gig; and there was much preparation

+of elaborate contrivances for the entrapping

+of fish.  But the Laird's occult and intricate

+tackle—the spinning minnows, and spoons, and

+india-rubber sand-eels—proved no competitor

+for the couple of big white flies that Angus

+Sutherland had busked.  And of course Mary

+Avon had that rod; and when some huge

+lithe dragged the end of the rod fairly under

+water, and when she cried aloud, "Oh! oh!

+I can't hold it; he'll break the rod!" then

+arose our Doctor's word of command:—

+

+"Haul him in!  Shove out the butt!  No

+scientific playing with a lithe!  Well done!—well

+done!—a five-pounder I'll bet ten farthings!"

+

+It was not scientific fishing; but we got big

+fish—which is of more importance in the eyes

+of Master Fred.  And then, as the night fell,

+we set out again for the yacht; and the Doctor

+pulled stroke; and he sang some more verses

+of the *biorlinn* song as the blades dashed fire

+into the rushing sea:—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Proudly o'er the waves we'll bound her,

+   |  As the staghound bounds the heather!

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |  A long, strong pull together,

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |

+   |  Through the eddying tide we'll guide her,

+   |  Round each isle and breezy headland,

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |  A long, strong pull together,

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+

+The yellow lamp at the bow of the yacht

+grew larger and larger; the hull of the boat

+looked black between us and the starlit

+heavens; as we clambered on board there

+was a golden glow from the saloon skylight.

+And then, during the long and happy evening,

+amid all the whist-playing and other amusements

+going forward, what about certain timid

+courtesies and an occasional shy glance between

+those two young people?  Some of us began

+to think that if the Laird's scheme was to

+come to anything, it was high time that

+Mr. Howard Smith put in an appearance.

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`A WILD STUDIO`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER IX.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   A WILD STUDIO.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+There is a fine bustle of preparation next

+morning—for the gig is waiting by the side

+of the yacht; and Dr. Sutherland is carefully

+getting our artist's materials into the stern;

+and the Laird is busy with shawls and

+waterproofs; and Master Fred brings along the

+luncheon-basket.  Our Admiral-in-chief prefers

+to stay on board; she has letters to write;

+there are enough of us to go and be tossed

+on the Atlantic swell off the great caves of

+Canna.

+

+And as the men strike their oars in the

+water and we wave a last adieu, the Laird

+catches a glimpse of our larder at the stern of

+the yacht.  Alas! there is but one remaining

+piece of fresh meat hanging there, under the

+white canvas.

+

+"It reminds me," says he, beginning to laugh

+already, "of a good one that Tom Galbraith

+told me—a real good one that was.  Tom

+had a little bit yacht that his man and himself

+sailed when he was painting, ye know; and

+one day they got into a bay where Duncan—that

+was the man's name—had some friends

+ashore.  Tom left him in charge of the yacht;

+and—and—ha! ha! ha!—there was a leg of

+mutton hanging at the stern.  Well, Tom

+was rowed ashore; and painted all day; and

+came back to the yacht in the afternoon.

+*There was no leg of mutton*!  'Duncan,' says

+he, 'where is the leg of mutton?'  Duncan

+pretended to be vastly surprised.  'Iss it

+away?' says he.  'Away?' says Tom.  'Don't

+you see it is away?  I want to know who

+took it!'  Duncan looked all round him—at

+the sea and the sky—and then says he—then

+says he, 'Maybe it wass a

+dog!'—ha! ha! hee! hee! hee!—'maybe

+it wass a dog,' says

+he; and they were half a mile from the shore!

+I never see the canvas at the stern of a yacht

+without thinking o' Tom Galbraith and the

+leg of mutton;" and here the Laird laughed

+long and loud again.

+

+"I have heard you speak once or twice

+about Tom Galbraith," remarked our young

+Doctor, without meaning the least sarcasm;

+"he is an artist, I suppose?"

+

+The Laird stopped laughing.  There was a

+look of indignant wonder—approaching to

+horror—on his face.  But when he proceeded,

+with some dignity and even resentment, to

+explain to this ignorant person the immense

+importance of the school that Tom Galbraith

+had been chiefly instrumental in forming; and

+the high qualities of that artist's personal

+work; and how the members of the Royal

+Academy shook in their shoes at the mere

+mention of Tom Galbraith's name, he

+became more pacified; for Angus Sutherland

+listened with great respect, and even promised

+to look out for Mr. Galbraith's work if he

+passed through Edinburgh on his way to the

+south.

+

+The long, swinging stroke of the men soon

+took us round the successive headlands until

+we were once more in the open, with the

+mountains of Skye in the north, and, far

+away at the horizon, a pale line which we

+knew to be North Uist.  And now the green

+shores of Canna were becoming more

+precipitous; and there was a roaring of the sea

+along the spurs of black rock; and the long

+Atlantic swell, breaking on the bows of the

+gig, was sending a little more spray over us

+than was at all desirable.  Certainly no one

+who could have seen the Doctor at this

+moment—with his fresh-coloured face dripping with

+the salt water and shining in the sunlight—would

+have taken him for a hard-worked and

+anxious student.  His hard work was pulling

+stroke-oar, and he certainly put his shoulders

+into it, as the Laird had remarked; and his

+sole anxiety was about Mary Avon's

+art-materials.  That young lady shook the water

+from the two blank canvases, and declared

+it did not matter a bit.

+

+These lonely cliffs!—becoming more grim

+and awful every moment, as this mite of a boat

+still wrestles with the great waves, and makes

+its way along the coast.  And yet there are

+tender greens where the pasturage appears on

+the high plateaus; and there is a soft ruddy

+hue where the basalt shines.  The gloom of

+the picture appears below—in the caves washed

+out of the conglomerate by the heavy seas; in

+the spurs and fantastic pillars and arches of the

+black rock; and in this leaden-hued Atlantic

+springing high over every obstacle to go

+roaring and booming into the caverns.  And these

+innumerable white specks on the sparse green

+plateaus and on this high promontory: can

+they be mushrooms in millions?  Suddenly one

+of the men lifts his oar from the rowlock, and

+rattles it on the gunwale of the gig.  At this

+sound a cloud rises from the black rocks; it

+spreads; the next moment the air is darkened

+over our heads; and almost before we know

+what has happened, this vast multitude of

+puffins has wheeled by us, and wheeled again

+further out to sea—a smoke of birds!  And

+as we watch them, behold! stragglers come

+back—in thousands upon thousands—the air is

+filled with them—some of them swooping so

+near us that we can see the red parrot-like

+beak and the orange-hued web-feet, and then

+again the green shelves of grass and the

+pinnacles of rock become dotted with those

+white specks.  The myriads of birds; the

+black caverns; the arches and spurs of rock;

+the leaden-hued Atlantic bounding and

+springing in white foam: what says Mary Avon to

+that?  Has she the courage?

+

+"If you can put me ashore?" says she.

+

+"Oh, we will get you ashore, somehow,"

+Dr. Sutherland answers.

+

+But, indeed, the nearer we approach that

+ugly coast the less we like the look of it.

+Again and again we make for what should be

+a sheltered bit; but long before we can get to

+land we can see through the plunging sea great

+masses of yellow, which we know to be the

+barnacled rock; and then ahead we find a shore

+that, in this heavy surf, would make match-wood

+of the gig in three seconds.  Our Doctor,

+however, will not give in.  If he cannot get

+the gig on to any beach or into any creek, he

+will land our artist somehow.  And at last—and

+in spite of the remonstrances of John of

+Skye—he insists on having the boat backed

+in to a projecting mass of conglomerate, all

+yellowed over with small shell-fish, against

+which the sea is beating heavily.  It is an ugly

+landing-place; we can see the yellow rock go

+sheer down in the clear green sea; and the

+surf is spouting up the side in white jets.  But

+if she can watch a high wave, and put her

+foot there—and there—will she not find herself

+directly on a plateau of rock at least twelve

+feet square?

+

+"Back her, John!—back her!—" and therewith

+the Doctor, watching his chance, scrambles

+out and up to demonstrate the feasibility of the

+thing.  And the easel is handed out to him;

+and the palette and canvases; and finally

+Mary Avon herself.  Nay, even the Laird will

+adventure, sending on before him the luncheon-basket.

+

+It is a strange studio—this projecting

+shell-crusted rock, surrounded on three sides by the

+sea, and on the fourth by an impassable cliff.

+And the sounds beneath our feet—there must

+be some subterranean passage or cave into

+which the sea roars and booms.  But Angus

+Sutherland rigs up the easel rapidly; and

+arranges the artist's camp-stool; and sets her

+fairly agoing; then he proposes to leave the

+Laird in charge of her.  He and the humble

+chronicler of the adventures of these people

+mean to have some further exploration of this

+wild coast.

+

+But we had hardly gone a quarter of a mile

+or so—it was hard work pulling in this heavy

+sea—when the experienced eye of Sandy from

+Islay saw that something was wrong.

+

+"What's that?" he said, staring.

+

+We turned instantly, and strove to look

+through the mists of spray.  Where we had

+left the Laird and Mary Avon there were now

+visible only two mites, apparently not bigger

+than puffins.  But is not one of the puffins

+gesticulating wildly?

+

+"Round with her, John!" the Doctor calls

+out.  "They want us—I'm sure."

+

+And away the gig goes again—plunging into

+the great troughs and then swinging up to the

+giddy crests.  And as we get nearer and

+nearer, what is the meaning of the Laird's

+frantic gestures?  We cannot understand him;

+and it is impossible to hear, for the booming

+of the sea into the caves drowns his voice.

+

+"He has lost his hat," says Angus Sutherland;

+and then, the next second, "Where's the easel?"

+

+Then we understand those wild gestures.

+Pull away, merry men! for has not a squall

+swept the studio of its movables?  And there,

+sure enough, tossing high and low on the

+waves, we descry a variety of things—an easel,

+two canvases, a hat, a veil, and what not.  Up

+with the boat-hook to the bow; and gently

+with those plunges, you eager Hector of

+Moidart!

+

+"I am so sorry," she says (or rather

+shrieks), when her dripping property is

+restored to her.

+

+"It was my fault," our Doctor yells; "but

+I will undertake to fasten your easel properly

+this time"—and therewith he fetches a lump

+of rock that might have moored a man-of-war.

+

+We stay and have luncheon in this gusty

+and thunderous studio—though Mary Avon

+will scarcely turn from her canvas.  And there

+is no painting of pink geraniums about this

+young woman's work.  We see already that

+she has got a thorough grip of this cold, hard

+coast (the sun is obscured now, and the various

+hues are more sombre than ever); and,

+though she has not had time as yet to try to

+catch the motion of the rolling sea, she has got

+the colour of it—a leaden-grey, with glints of

+blue and white, and with here and there a

+sudden splash of deep, rich, glassy, bottle green,

+where some wave for a moment catches, just

+as it gets to the shore, a reflection from the

+grass plateaus above.  Very good, Miss Avon;

+very good—but we pretend that we are not

+looking.

+

+Then away we go again, to leave the artist

+to her work; and we go as near as possible—the

+high sea will not allow us to enter—the

+vast black caverns; and we watch through the

+clear water for those masses of yellow rock.

+And then the multitudes of white-breasted,

+red-billed birds perched up there—close to the

+small burrows in the scant grass; they jerk

+their heads about in a watchful way just like

+the prairie-dogs at the mouth of their sandy

+habitations on the Colorado plains.  And then

+again a hundred or two of them come swooping

+down from the rocky pinnacles and sail over

+our heads—twinkling bits of colour between

+the grey-green sea and the blue-and-white of

+the sky.  They resent the presence of strangers

+in this far-home of the sea-birds.

+

+It is a terrible business getting that young

+lady and her paraphernalia back into the gig

+again; for the sea is still heavy, and, of course,

+additional care has now to be taken of the

+precious canvas.  But at last she, and the

+Laird, and the luncheon-basket, and everything

+else have been got on board; and away we go

+for the yacht again, in the now clearing

+afternoon.  As we draw further away from the roar

+of the caves, it is more feasible to talk; and

+naturally we are all very complimentary about

+Mary Avon's sketch in oils.

+

+"Ay," says the Laird, "and it wants but

+one thing; and I am sure I could get Tom

+Galbraith to put that in for you.  A bit of a

+yacht, ye know, or other sailing vessel, put

+below the cliffs, would give people a notion of

+the height of the cliffs, do ye see?  I am

+sure I could get Tom Galbraith to put that

+in for ye."

+

+"I hope Miss Avon won't let Tom Galbraith

+or anybody else meddle with the picture."

+says Angus Sutherland, with some emphasis.

+"Why, a yacht!  Do you think anybody

+would let a yacht come close to rocks like

+these!  As soon as you introduce any making-up

+like that, the picture is a sham.  It is the

+real thing now, as it stands.  Twenty years

+hence you could take up that piece of canvas,

+and there before you would be the very day

+that you spent here—it would be like finding

+your old life of twenty years before opened up

+to you with a lightning-flash.  The picture is—why

+I should say it is invaluable, as it stands."

+

+At this somewhat fierce praise, Mary Avon

+colours a little.  And then she says with a

+gentle hypocrisy—

+

+"Oh, do you really think there is—there

+is—some likeness to the place?"

+

+"It is the place itself!" says he warmly.

+

+"Because," she says, timidly, and yet with

+a smile, "one likes to have one's work

+appreciated, however stupid it may be.  And—and—if

+you think that—would you like to have

+it?  Because I should be so proud if you would

+take it—only I am ashamed to offer my

+sketches to anybody——"

+

+"That!" said he, staring at the canvas as

+if the mines of Golconda were suddenly opened

+to him.  But then he drew back.  "Oh, no,"

+he said; "you are very kind—but—but, you

+know, I cannot.  You would think I had been

+asking for it."

+

+"Well," says Miss Avon, still looking down,

+"I never was treated like this before.  You

+won't take it?  You don't think it is worth

+putting in your portmanteau?"

+

+At this the young Doctor's face grew very

+red; but he said boldly—

+

+"Very well, now, if you have been playing

+fast and loose, you shall be punished.  I *will*

+take the picture, whether you grudge it me or

+not.  And I don't mean to give it up now."

+

+"Oh," said she, very gently, "if it reminds

+you of the place, I shall be very pleased—and—and

+it may remind you too that I am not

+likely to forget your kindness to poor Mrs. Thompson."

+

+And so this little matter was amicably

+settled—though the Laird looked with a covetous

+eye on that rough sketch of the rocks of Canna,

+and regretted that he was not to be allowed to

+ask Tom Galbraith to put in a touch or two.

+And so back to the yacht, and to dinner in the

+silver clear evening; and how beautiful looked

+this calm bay of Canna, with its glittering

+waters and green shores, after the grim rocks

+and the heavy Atlantic waves!

+

+That evening we pursued the innocent lithe

+again—our larder was becoming terribly

+empty—and there was a fine take.  But of more

+interest to some of us than the big fish was

+the extraordinary wonder of colour in sea and

+sky when the sun had gone down; and there

+was a wail on the part of the Laird that Mary

+Avon had not her colours with her to put down

+some jotting for further use.  Or if on paper:

+might not she write down something of what

+she saw; and experiment thereafter?  Well,

+if any artist can make head or tail of words in

+such a case as this, here they are for him—as

+near as our combined forces of observation

+could go.

+

+The vast plain of water around us a blaze of

+salmon-red—with the waves (catching the

+reflection of the zenith) marked in horizontal

+lines of blue.  The great headland of Canna,

+between us and the western sky, a mass of

+dark, intense olive-green.  The sky over that

+a pale, clear lemon-yellow.  But the great

+feature of this evening scene was a mass of

+cloud that stretched all across the heavens—a

+mass of flaming, thunderous, orange-red cloud

+that began in the far pale mists in the east,

+and came across the blue zenith overhead,

+burning with a splendid glory there, and then

+stretched over to the west, where it narrowed

+down and was lost in the calm, clear gold of

+the horizon.  The splendour of this great

+cloud was bewildering to the eyes; one turned

+gratefully to the reflection of it in the sultry

+red of the sea below, broken by the blue lines

+of waves.  Our attention was not wholly

+given to the fishing or the boat on this lambent

+evening; perhaps that was the reason we ran

+on a rock, and with difficulty got off again.

+

+Then back to the yacht again about eleven

+o'clock.  What is this terrible news from

+Master Fred, who was sent off with instructions

+to hunt up any stray crofter he might

+find, and use such persuasions in the shape of

+Gaelic friendliness and English money as would

+enable us to replenish our larder?  What! that

+he had walked two miles and seen nothing

+eatable or purchasable but an old hen?  Canna

+is a beautiful place; but we begin to think

+it is time to be off.

+

+On this still night, with the stars coming

+out, we cannot go below.  We sit on deck and

+listen to the musical whisper along the shore,

+and watch one golden-yellow planet rising over

+the dusky peaks of Rum, far in the east.  And

+our young Doctor is talking of the pathetic

+notices that are common in the Scotch papers—in

+the advertisements of deaths.  "*New

+Zealand papers, please copy.*"  "*Canadian papers,

+please copy.*"  When you see this prayer

+appended to the announcement of the death of

+some old woman of seventy or seventy-five,

+do you not know that it is a message to loved

+ones in distant climes, wanderers who may

+forget but who have not been forgotten?

+They are messages that tell of a scattered

+race—of a race that once filled the glens of

+these now almost deserted islands.  And surely,

+when some birthday or other time of recollection

+comes round, those far away,

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe,

+

+must surely bethink themselves of the old

+people left behind—living in Glasgow or

+Greenock now, perhaps—and must bethink

+themselves too of the land where last they

+saw the bonny red heather, and where last

+they heard the pipes playing the sad *Farewell,

+MacCruimin* as the ship stood out to sea.

+They cannot quite forget the scenes of their

+youth—the rough seas and the red heather

+and the islands; the wild dancing at the

+weddings; the secret meetings in the glen, with

+Ailasa, or Morag, or Mairi, come down from the

+sheiling, all alone, a shawl round her head to

+shelter her from the rain, her heart fluttering

+like the heart of a timid fawn.  They cannot

+forget.

+

+And we, too, we are going away; and it

+may be that we shall never see this beautiful

+bay or the island there again.  But one of

+us carries away with him a talisman for the

+sudden revival of old memories.  And twenty

+years hence—that was his own phrase—what

+will Angus Sutherland—perhaps a very great

+and rich person by that time—what will he

+think when he turns to a certain picture, and

+recalls the long summer day when he rowed

+with Mary Avon round the wild shores of Canna?

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`"DUNVEGAN!—OH!  DUNVEGAN!"`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER X.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   "DUNVEGAN!—OH!  DUNVEGAN!"

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+Commander Mary Avon sends her orders

+below: everything to be made snug in the

+cabins, for there is a heavy sea running

+outside, and the *White Dove* is already under way.

+Farewell, then, you beautiful blue bay—all

+rippled into silver now with the breeze—and

+green shores and picturesque cliffs!  We should

+have lingered here another day or two,

+perhaps, but for the report about that one old

+hen.  We cannot ration passengers and crew

+on one old hen.

+

+And here, as we draw away from Canna, is

+the vast panorama of the sea-world around us

+once more—the mighty mountain range of

+Skye shining faintly in the northern skies;

+Haleval and Haskeval still of a gloomy purple

+in the east; and away beyond these leagues of

+rushing Atlantic the clear blue line of North

+Uist.  Whither are we bound, then, you small

+captain with the pale face and the big, soft,

+tender black eyes?  Do you fear a shower of

+spray that you have strapped that tightly-fitting

+ulster round the graceful small figure?  And

+are you quite sure that you know whether the

+wind is on the port or starboard beam?

+

+"Look! look! look!" she calls, and our

+F.R.S., who has been busy over the charts,

+jumps to his feet.

+

+Just at the bow of the vessel we see the

+great shining black thing disappear.  What if

+there had been a collision?

+

+"You cannot call *that* a porpoise, any way,"

+says she.  "Why, it must have been eighty

+feet long!"

+

+"Yes, yacht measurement," says he.  "But

+it had a back fin, which is suspicious, and it

+did not blow.  Now," he adds—for we have

+been looking all round for the re-appearance

+of the huge stranger—"if you want to see

+real whales at work, just look over there, close

+under Rum.  I should say there was a whole

+shoal of them in the Sound."

+

+And there, sure enough, we see from time to

+time the white spoutings—rising high into the

+air in the form of the letter V, and slowly

+falling again.  They are too far away for us

+to hear the sound of their blowing, nor can we

+catch any glimpse, through the best of our

+glasses, of their appearance at the surface.

+Moreover, the solitary stranger that nearly

+ran against our bows makes no reappearance;

+he has had enough of the wonders of the

+upper world for a time.

+

+It is a fine sailing morning, and we pay but

+little attention to the fact that the wind, as

+usual, soon gets to be dead ahead.  So long

+as the breeze blows, and the sun shines, and

+the white spray flies from the bows of the

+*White Dove*, what care we which harbour is

+to shelter us for the night?  And if we cannot

+get into any harbour, what then?  We carry

+our own kingdom with us; and we are far from

+being dependent on the one old hen.

+

+But in the midst of much laughing at one

+of the Laird's good ones—the inexhaustible

+Homesh was again to the fore—a head appears

+at the top of the companion-way; and there is

+a respectful silence.  Unseemly mirth dies away

+before the awful dignity of this person.

+

+"Angus," she says, with a serious remonstrance

+on her face, "do you believe what

+scientific people tell you?"

+

+Angus Sutherland starts, and looks up; he

+has been deep in a chart of Loch Bracadaile.

+

+"Don't they say that water finds its own

+level?  Now do you call this water finding

+its own level?"—and as she propounds this

+conundrum, she clings on tightly to the side

+of the companion, for, in truth, the *White

+Dove* is curveting a good deal among those

+great masses of waves.

+

+"Another tumbler broken!" she exclaims.

+"Now who left that tumbler on the table?"

+

+"I know," says Mary Avon.

+

+"Who was it then?" says the occupant of

+the companion-way; and we begin to tremble

+for the culprit.

+

+"Why, you yourself!"

+

+"Mary Avon, how can you tell such a

+story!" says the other, with a stern face.

+

+"Oh, but that is so," calls out our Doctor,

+"for I myself saw you bring the tumbler out

+of the ladies' cabin with water for the flowers."

+

+The universal shout of laughter that

+overwhelms Madame Dignity is too much for her.

+A certain conscious, lurking smile begins to

+break through the sternness of her face.

+

+"I don't believe a word of it," she declares,

+firing a shot as she retreats.  "Not a word

+of it.  You are two conspirators.  To tell such

+a story about a tumbler—-!"

+

+But at this moment a further assault is made

+on the majesty of this imperious small

+personage.  There is a thunder at the bows; a

+rattling as of pistol-shots on the decks forward;

+and at the same moment the fag-ends of the

+spray come flying over the after part of the

+yacht.  What becomes of one's dignity when

+one gets a shower of salt water over one's head

+and neck?  Go down below, madam!—retreat,

+retreat, discomfited!—go, dry your face and

+your bonny brown hair—and bother us no

+more with your broken tumbler!

+

+And despite those plunging seas and the

+occasional showers of spray, Mary Avon still

+clings bravely to the rope that is round the

+tiller; and as we are bearing over for Skye on

+one long tack, she has no need to change her

+position.  And if from time to time her face

+gets wet with the salt water, is it not quickly

+dried again in the warm sun and the breeze?

+Sun and salt water and sea-air will soon chase

+away the pallor from that gentle face: cannot

+one observe already—after only a few days'

+sailing—a touch of sun-brown on her cheeks?

+

+And now we are drawing nearer and nearer

+to Skye, and before us lies the lonely Loch

+Breatal, just under the splendid Coolins.  See

+how the vast slopes of the mountains appear

+to come sheer down to the lake; and there is a

+soft, sunny green on them—a beautiful, tender,

+warm colour that befits a summer day.  But far

+above and beyond those sunny slopes a

+different sight appears.  All the clouds of this

+fair day have gathered round the upper

+portions of the mountains; and that solitary range

+of black and jagged peaks is dark in shadow,

+dark as if with the expectation of thunder.  The

+Coolins are not beloved of mariners.  Those

+beautiful sunlit ravines are the secret haunts

+of hurricanes that suddenly come out to strike

+the unwary yachtsman as with the blow of

+a hammer.  *Stand by, forward, then, lads!

+About ship!  Down with the helm, Captain

+Avon!*—and behold! we are sailing away

+from the black Coolins, and ahead of us there

+is only the open sea, and the sunlight shining

+on the far cliffs of Canna.

+

+"When your course is due north," remarks

+Angus Sutherland, who has relieved Mary Avon

+at the helm, "and when the wind is due north,

+you get a good deal of sailing for your money."

+

+The profound truth of this remark becomes

+more and more apparent as the day passes

+in a series of long tacks which do not seem to

+be bringing those far headlands of Skye much

+nearer to us.  And if we are beating in this

+heavy sea all day and night, is there not a

+chance of one or other of our women-folk

+collapsing?  They are excellent sailors, to be

+sure—but—but—

+

+Dr. Sutherland is consulted.  Dr. Sutherland's

+advice is prompt and emphatic.  His

+sole and only precaution against sea-sickness

+is simple: resolute eating and drinking.  Cure

+for sea-sickness, after it has set in, he declares

+there is none: to prevent it, eat and drink,

+and let the drink be *brut* champagne.  So our

+two prisoners are ordered below to undergo

+that punishment.

+

+And, perhaps, it is the *brut* champagne, or

+perhaps it is merely the snugness of our little

+luncheon-party that prompts Miss Avon to

+remark on the exceeding selfishness of yachting

+and to suggest a proposal that fairly takes away

+our breath by its audacity.

+

+"Now," she says, cheerfully, "I could tell

+you how you could occupy an idle day on

+board a yacht so that you would give a great

+deal of happiness—quite a shock of delight—to

+a large number of people."

+

+Well, we are all attention.

+

+"At what cost?" says the financier of our party.

+

+"At no cost."

+

+This is still more promising.  Why should

+not we instantly set about making all those

+people happy?

+

+"All that you have got to do is to get a copy of

+the *Field* or of the *Times* or some such paper."

+

+Yes; and how are we to get any such thing?

+Rum has no post-office.  No mail calls at

+Canna.  Newspapers do not grow on the rocks

+of Loch Bracadaile.

+

+"However, let us suppose that we have the paper."

+

+"Very well.  All you have to do is to

+sit down and take the advertisements, and

+write to the people, accepting all their

+offers on their own terms.  The man who

+wants 500*l.* for his shooting in the autumn;

+the man who will sell his steam-yacht for

+7,000*l,*; the curate who will take in another

+youth to board at 200*l.* a year; the lady who

+wants to let her country-house during the

+London season; all the people who are anxious

+to sell things.  You offer to take them all.  If a

+man has a yacht to let on hire, you will pay for

+new jerseys for the men.  If a man has a house

+to be let, you will take all the fixtures at his

+own valuation.  All you have to do is to write

+two or three hundred letters—as an anonymous

+person, of course—and you make two or three

+hundred people quite delighted for perhaps a

+whole week!"

+

+The Laird stared at this young lady as if she

+had gone mad; but there was only a look of

+complacent friendliness on Mary Avon's face.

+

+"You mean that you write sham letters?"

+says her hostess.  "You gull those unfortunate

+people into believing that all their wishes are

+realised?"

+

+"But you make them happy!" says Mary

+Avon, confidently.

+

+"Yes—and the disappointment afterwards!"

+retorts her friend, almost with indignation.

+"Imagine their disappointment when they find

+they have been duped!  Of course they would

+write letters and discover that the anonymous

+person had no existence."

+

+"Oh, no!" says Mary Avon, eagerly.

+"There could be no such great disappointment.

+The happiness would be definite and real for

+the time.  The disappointment would only be

+a slow and gradual thing when they found no

+answer coming to their letter.  You would

+make them happy for a whole week or so by

+accepting their offer; whereas by not answering

+their letter or letters you would only puzzle

+them, and the matter would drop away into

+forgetfulness.  Do you not think it would be

+an excellent scheme?"

+

+Come on deck, you people; this girl has got

+demented.  And behold! as we emerge once

+more into the sunlight and whirling spray and

+wind, we find that we are nearing Skye again

+on the port tack, and now it is the mouth of

+Loch Bracadaile that we are approaching.  And

+these pillars of rock, outstanding from the cliffs,

+and worn by the northern seas?

+

+"Why, these must be Macleod's Maidens!"

+says Angus Sutherland, unrolling one of the

+charts.

+

+And then he discourses to us of the curious

+fancies of sailors—passing the lonely coasts

+from year to year—and recognising as old

+friends, not any living thing, but the strange

+conformations of the rocks—and giving to these

+the names of persons and of animals.  And he

+thinks there is something more weird and

+striking about these solitary and sea-worn rocks

+fronting the great Atlantic than about any

+comparatively modern Sphinx or Pyramid; until

+we regard the sunlit pillars, and their fretted

+surface and their sharp shadows, with a sort of

+morbid imagination; and we discover how the

+sailors have fancied them to be stone women;

+and we see in the largest of them—her head

+and shoulder tilted over a bit—some resemblance

+to the position of the Venus discovered

+at Milo.  All this is very fine; but suddenly the

+sea gets darkened over there; a squall comes

+roaring out of Loch Bracadaile; John of Skye

+orders the boat about; and presently we are

+running free before this puff from the

+north-east.  Alas! alas! we have no sooner got

+out of the reach of the squall than the wind

+backs to the familiar north, and our laborious

+beating has to be continued as before.

+

+But we are not discontented.  Is it not

+enough, as the golden and glowing afternoon

+wears on, to listen to the innocent prattle of

+Denny-mains, whose mind has been fired by

+the sight of those pillars of rock.  He tells

+us a great many remarkable things—about

+the similarity between Gaelic and Irish, and

+between Welsh and Armorican; and he discusses

+the use of the Druidical stones, as to

+whether the priests followed serpent-worship

+or devoted those circles to human sacrifice.

+He tells us about the Picts and Scots; about

+Fingal and Ossian; about the doings of Arthur

+in his kingdom of Strathclyde.  It is a most

+innocent sort of prattle.

+

+"Yes, sir," says our Doctor—quite gravely—though

+we are not quite sure that he is not

+making fun of our simple-hearted Laird, "there

+can be no doubt that the Aryan race that first

+swept over Europe spoke a Celtic language,

+more or less akin to Gaelic, and that they were

+pushed out, by successive waves of population,

+into Brittany, and Wales, and Ireland, and the

+Highlands.  And I often wonder whether it

+was they themselves that modestly call themselves

+the foreigners or strangers, and affixed

+that name to the land they laid hold of, from

+Galicia and Gaul to Galloway and Galway?

+The Gaelic word *gall*, a stranger, you find

+everywhere.  Fingal himself is only *Fionn-gall*—the

+Fair Stranger; *Dubh-gall*—that is, the

+familiar Dugald—or the Black Stranger—is

+what the Islay people call a Lowlander.

+*Ru-na-Gaul*, that we passed the other day—that

+is the Foreigner's Point.  I think there

+can be no doubt that the tribes that first

+brought Aryan civilisation through the west

+of Europe spoke Gaelic or something like

+Gaelic."

+

+"Ay," said the Laird, doubtfully.  He was

+not sure of this young man.  He had heard

+something about Gaelic being spoken in the

+Garden of Eden, and suspected there might be

+a joke lying about somewhere.

+

+However, there was no joking about our

+F.R.S. when he began to tell Mary Avon how,

+if he had time and sufficient interest in such

+things, he would set to work to study the

+Basque people and their language—that

+strange remnant of the old race who inhabited

+the west of Europe long before Scot, or Briton,

+or Roman, or Teuton had made his appearance

+on the scene.  Might they not have traditions,

+or customs, or verbal survivals to tell us of

+their pre-historic forefathers?  The Laird

+seemed quite shocked to hear that his favourite

+Picts and Scots—and Fingal and Arthur and

+all the rest of them—were mere modern

+interlopers.  What of the mysterious race that

+occupied these islands before the great Aryan

+tide swept over from the East?

+

+Well, this was bad enough; but when the

+Doctor proceeded to declare his conviction that

+no one had the least foundation for the various

+conjectures about the purposes of those so-called

+Druidical stones—that it was all a matter

+of guess-work whether as regarded council-halls,

+grave-stones, altars, or serpent-worship—and

+that it was quite possible these stones were

+erected by the non-Aryan race who inhabited

+Europe before either Gaul or Roman or

+Teuton came west, the Laird interrupted him,

+triumphantly—

+

+"But," says he, "the very names of those

+stones show they are of Celtic origin—will ye

+dispute that?  What is the meaning of *Carnac*,

+that is in Brittany—eh?  Ye know Gaelic?"

+

+"Well, I know that much," said Angus,

+laughing.  "Carnac means simply the place of

+piled stones.  But the Celts may have found

+the stones there, and given them that name."

+

+"I think," says Miss Avon, profoundly,

+"that when you go into a question of names,

+you can prove anything.  And I suppose

+Gaelic is as accommodating as any other

+language."

+

+Angus Sutherland did not answer for a

+moment; but at last he said, rather shyly—

+

+"Gaelic is a very complimentary language,

+at all events.  Beau is 'a woman;' and

+bean-nachd is 'a blessing.'  *An ti a bheannaich

+thu*—that is, 'the one who blessed you.'"

+

+Very pretty; only we did not know how

+wildly the young man might not be falsifying

+Gaelic grammar in order to say something nice

+to Mary Avon.

+

+Patience works wonders.  Dinner-time finds

+us so far across the Minch that we can make

+out the lighthouse of South Uist.  And all

+these outer Hebrides are now lying in a flood

+of golden-red light; and on the cliffs of Canna,

+far away in the south-east, and now dwarfed so

+that they lie like a low wall on the sea, there is

+a paler red, caught from the glare of the sunset.

+And here is the silver tinkle of Master Fred's bell.

+

+On deck after dinner; and the night air is

+cooler now; and there are cigars about; and

+our young F.R.S. is at the tiller; and Mary

+Avon is singing, apparently to herself,

+something about a Berkshire farmer's daughter.

+The darkness deepens, and the stars come out;

+and there is one star—larger than the rest, and

+low down, and burning a steady red—that we

+know to be Ushinish lighthouse.  And then

+from time to time the silence is broken by,

+"*Stand by, forrard!  'Bout ship!*" and there

+is a rattling of blocks and cordage and then the

+head-sails fill and away she goes again on the

+other tack.  We have got up to the long

+headlands of Skye at last.

+

+Clear as the night is, the wind still comes in

+squalls, and we have the topsail down.  Into

+which indentation of that long, low line of dark

+land shall we creep in the darkness?

+

+But John of Skye keeps away from the land.

+It is past midnight.  There is nothing visible

+but the black sea and the clear sky, and the

+red star of the lighthouse; nothing audible but

+Mary Avon's humming to herself and her

+friend—the two women sit arm-in-arm under

+half-a-dozen of rugs—some old-world ballad

+to the monotonous accompaniment of the

+passing seas.

+

+One o'clock: Ushinish light is smaller now,

+a minute point of red fire, and the black line of

+land on our right looms larger in the dusk.

+Look at the splendour of the phosphorous-stars

+on the rushing waves.

+

+And at last John of Skye says in an

+undertone to Angus—

+

+"Will the leddies be going below now?"

+

+"Going below!" he says in reply.  "They

+are waiting till we get to anchor.  We must be

+just off Dunvegan Loch now."

+

+Then John of Skye makes his confession.

+

+"Oh, yes; I been into Dunvegan Loch more

+as two or three times; but I not like the dark

+to be with us in going in; and if we lie off till

+the daylight comes, the leddies they can go

+below to their peds.  And if Dr. Sutherland

+himself would like to see the channel in

+going in, will I send below when the daylight

+comes?"

+

+"No, no, John; thank you," is the answer.

+"When I turn in, I turn in for good.  I will

+leave you to find out the channel for yourself."

+

+And so there is a clearance of the deck, and

+rugs and camp-stools handed down the

+companion.  *Deoch-an-doruis* in the candle-lit

+saloon?  To bed—to bed!

+

+It is about five o'clock in the morning that

+the swinging out of the anchor-chain causes the

+yacht to tremble from stem to stern; and the

+sleepers start in their sleep, but are vaguely

+aware that they are at a safe anchorage at last.

+And do you know where the brave *White Dove*

+is lying now?  Surely if the new dawn brings

+any stirring of wind—and if there is a sound

+coming over to us from this far land of legend

+and romance—it is the wild, sad wail of

+Dunvegan!  The mists are clearing from the hills;

+the day breaks wan and fair; the great grey

+castle, touched by the early sunlight, looks

+down on the murmuring sea.  And is it the

+sea, or is it the cold wind of the morning, that

+sings and sings to us in our dreams—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Dunvegan—oh!  Dunvegan!

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`DRAWING NEARER`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER XI.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   DRAWING NEARER.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+She is all alone on deck.  The morning

+sun shines on the beautiful blue bay; on

+the great castle perched on the rocks over

+there; and on the wooded green hills beyond.

+She has got a canvas fixed on her easel; she

+sings to herself as she works.

+

+Now this English young lady must have

+beguiled the tedium of her long nursing in

+Edinburgh by making a particular acquaintance

+with Scotch ballads; or how otherwise could

+we account for her knowledge of the "Song of

+Ulva," and now of the "Song of Dunvegan?"

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Macleod the faithful, and fearing none!

+   |    Dunvegan—oh!  Dunvegan!

+

+—she hums to herself as she is busy with this

+rough sketch of sea and shore.  How can she

+be aware that Angus Sutherland is at this

+very moment in the companion way, and not

+daring to stir hand or foot lest he should

+disturb her?

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Friends and foes had our passion thwarted,

+

+she croons to herself, though, indeed, there is

+no despair at all in her voice, but a perfect

+contentment—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  But true, tender, and lion-hearted,

+   |  Lived he on, and from life departed,

+   |    Macleod, whose rival is breathing none!

+   |      Dunvegan—oh, Dunvegan!

+

+She is pleased with the rapidity of her work.

+She tries to whistle a little bit.  Or, perhaps

+it is only the fresh morning air that has put

+her in such good spirits?

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Yestreen the Queen had four Maries.

+

+What has that got to do with the sketch of

+the shining grey castle?  Among these tags

+and ends of ballads, the young Doctor at last

+becomes emboldened to put in an appearance.

+

+"Good morning, Miss Avon," says he; "you

+are busy at work again?"

+

+She is not in the least surprised.  She has

+got accustomed to his coming on deck before

+the others; they have had a good deal of quiet

+chatting while as yet the Laird was only adjusting

+his high white collar and satin neckcloth.

+

+"It is only a sketch," said she, in a rapid

+and highly business-like fashion, "but I think

+I shall be able to sell it.  You know most

+people merely value pictures for their

+association with things they are interested in

+themselves.  A Yorkshire farmer would rather have

+a picture of his favourite cob than any Raphael

+or Titian.  And the ordinary English squire:

+I am sure that you know in his own heart he

+prefers one of Herring's farm yard pieces to

+Leonardo's *Last Supper*.  Well, if some

+yachting gentleman, who has been in this loch,

+should see this sketch, he will probably buy it,

+however bad it is, just because it interests

+him——"

+

+"But you don't really mean to sell it?" said he.

+

+"That depends," said she demurely, "on

+whether I get any offer for it."

+

+"Why," he exclaimed, "the series of pictures

+you are now making should be an invaluable

+treasure to you all your life long: a permanent

+record of a voyage that you seem to enjoy

+very much.  I almost shrink from robbing you

+of that one of Canna; still, the temptation is

+too great.  And you propose to sell them all?"

+

+"What I can sell of them," she says; and

+then she adds, rather shyly, "You know I

+could not very well afford to keep them all

+for myself.  I—I have a good many almoners

+in London; and I devote to them what I can

+get for my scrawls—that is, I deduct the cost

+of the frames, and keep the rest for them.  It

+is not a large sum."

+

+"Any other woman would spend it in jewellery

+and dresses," says he bluntly.

+

+At this, Miss Mary Avon flushes slightly,

+and hastily draws his attention to a small boat

+that is approaching.  Dr. Sutherland does not

+pay any heed to the boat.

+

+He is silent for a second or so; and then

+he says, with an effort to talk in a cheerful

+and matter-of-fact way—

+

+"You have not sent ashore yet this morning:

+don't you know there is a post-office at

+Dunvegan?"

+

+"Oh, yes; I heard so.  But the men are

+below at breakfast, I think, and I am in no

+hurry to send, for there won't be any letters

+for me, I know."

+

+"Oh, indeed," he says, with seeming carelessness,

+"it must be a long time since you

+have heard from your friends."

+

+"I have not many friends to hear from," she

+answers, with a light laugh, "and those I have

+don't trouble me with many letters.  I

+suppose they think I am in very good hands at

+present."

+

+"Oh, yes—no doubt," says he, and suddenly

+he begins to talk in warm terms of the

+delightfulness of the voyage.  He is quite charmed

+with the appearance of Dunvegan Loch and

+castle.  A more beautiful morning he never

+saw.  And in the midst of all this enthusiasm

+the small boat comes alongside.

+

+There is an old man in the boat, and when

+he has fastened his oars, he says a few words

+to Angus Sutherland, and hands up a big black

+bottle.  Our young Doctor brings the bottle

+over to Mary Avon.  He seems to be very

+much pleased with everything this morning.

+

+"Now, is not that good-natured?" says he.

+"It is a bottle of fresh milk, with the

+compliments of ——, of Uginish.  Isn't it

+good-natured?"

+

+"Oh, indeed it is," says she, plunging her

+hand into her pocket.  "You must let me give

+the messenger half-a-crown."

+

+"No, no; that is not the Highland custom,"

+says the Doctor; and therewith he goes below,

+and fetches up another black bottle, and pours

+out a glass of whiskey with his own hand, and

+presents it to the ancient boatman.  You

+should have seen the look of surprise in the

+old man's face when Angus Sutherland said

+something to him in the Gaelic.

+

+And alas! and alas!—as we go ashore on

+this beautiful bright day, we have to give up

+for ever the old Dunvegan of many a dream—the

+dark and solitary keep that we had

+imagined perched high above the Atlantic

+breakers—the sheer precipices, the awful

+sterility, the wail of lamentation along the lonely

+shores.  This is a different picture altogether

+that Mary Avon has been trying to put down

+on her canvas—a spacious, almost modern-looking,

+but nevertheless picturesque castle,

+sheltered from the winds by softly wooded

+hills, a bit of smooth, blue water below, and

+further along the shores the cheerful evidences

+of fertility and cultivation.  The wail of

+Dunvegan?  Why, here is a brisk and thriving

+village, with a post-office, and a shop, and a

+building that looks uncommonly like an inn;

+and there, dotted all about, and encroaching

+on the upper moorland, any number of those

+small crofts that were once the pride of the

+Highlands and that gave to England the most

+stalwart of her regiments.  Here are no ruined

+huts and voiceless wastes; but a cheerful, busy

+picture of peasant-life; the strapping wenches

+at work in the small farm-yards, well-built and

+frank of face; the men well clad; the children

+well fed and merry enough.  It is a scene that

+delights the heart of our good friend of

+Denny-mains.  If we had but time, he would fain go

+in among the tiny farms, and inquire about the

+rent of the holdings, and the price paid for

+those picturesque little beasts that the artists

+are for ever painting—with a louring sky

+beyond, and a dash of sunlight in front.  But

+our Doctor is obdurate.  He will not have

+Mary Avon walk further; she must return

+to the yacht.

+

+But on our way back, as she is walking

+by the side of the road, he suddenly puts his

+hand on her arm, apparently to stop her.

+Slight as the touch is, she naturally looks

+surprised.

+

+"I beg your pardon," he says, hastily, "but

+I thought you would rather not tread on it——"

+

+He is regarding a weed by the wayside—a

+thing that looks like a snapdragon of some

+sort.  We did not expect to find a hard-headed

+man of science betray this trumpery sentiment

+about a weed.

+

+"I thought you would rather not tread upon

+it when you knew it was a stranger," he says,

+in explanation of that rude assault upon her

+arm.  "That is not an English plant at all;

+it is the *Mimulus*, its real home is in America."

+

+We began to look with more interest on

+the audacious small foreigner that had boldly

+adventured across the seas.

+

+"Oh," she says, looking back along the

+road, "I hope I have not trampled any of

+them down."

+

+"Well, it does not *much* matter," he admits,

+"for the plant is becoming quite common now

+in parts of the West Highlands; but I thought

+as it was a stranger, and come all the way

+across the Atlantic on a voyage of discovery,

+you would be hospitable.  I suppose the

+Gulf-stream brought the first of them over."

+

+"And if they had any choice in the matter,"

+says Mary Avon, looking down, and speaking

+with a little self-conscious deliberation, "and

+if they wanted to be hospitably received, they

+showed their good sense in coming to the

+West Highlands."

+

+After that there was a dead silence on the

+part of Angus Sutherland.  But why should

+he have been embarrassed?  There was no

+compliment levelled at him that he should

+blush like a schoolboy.  It was quite true that

+Miss Avon's liking—even love—for the West

+Highlands was becoming very apparent; but

+Banffshire is not in the West Highlands.

+What although Angus Sutherland could speak

+a few words in the Gaelic tongue to an old

+boatman?  He came from Banff.  Banffshire

+is not in the West Highlands.

+

+Then that afternoon at the great castle

+itself: what have we but a confused recollection

+of twelfth-century towers; and walls nine

+feet thick; and ghost-chambers; and a certain

+fairy-flag, that is called the *Bratach-Sith*; and

+the wide view over the blue Atlantic; and of

+a great kindness that made itself visible in the

+way of hothouse flowers and baskets of fruit,

+and what not?  The portraits, too: the

+various centuries got mixed up with the old

+legends, until we did not know in which face

+to look for some transmitted expression that

+might tell of the Cave of Uig or the Uamh-na-Ceann.

+But there was one portrait there, quite

+modern, and beautiful, that set all the tourist-folk

+a raving, so lovely were the life-like eyes

+of it; and the Laird was bold enough to say

+to the gentle lady who was so good as to be

+our guide, that it would be one of the greatest

+happinesses of his life if he might be allowed

+to ask Mr. Galbraith, the well-known artist of

+Edinburgh, to select a young painter to come

+up to Dunvegan and make a copy of this

+picture for him, Denny-mains.  And

+Dr. Sutherland could scarcely come away from

+that beautiful face; and our good Queen T. was

+quite charmed with it; and as for Mary

+Avon, when one of us regarded her, behold! as

+she looked up, there was a sort of moisture

+in the soft black eyes.

+

+What was she thinking of?  That it must

+be a fine thing to be so beautiful a woman, and

+charm the eyes of all men?  But now—now

+that we had had this singing-bird with us on

+board the yacht for so long a time—would any

+one of us have admitted that she was rather

+plain?  It would not have gone well with any

+one who had ventured to say so to the Laird

+of Denny-mains, at all events.  And as for our

+sovereign-lady and mistress, these were the

+lines which she always said described Mary Avon:—

+

+   |  Was never seen thing to be praised derre,[#]

+   |  Nor under blacke cloud so bright a sterre,

+   |  As she was, as they saiden, every one

+   |  That her behelden in her blacke weed;

+   |  And yet she stood, full low and still, alone,

+   |  Behind all other folk, in little brede,[#]

+   |  And nigh the door, ay under shame's drede;

+   |  Simple of bearing, debonair of cheer,

+   |  With a full surë[#] looking and mannere.

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: noindent small

+

+[#] *derre*, dearer.

+

+.. class:: noindent small

+

+[#] *in little brede*, without display.

+

+.. class:: noindent small

+

+[#] *surë*, frank.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+How smart the saloon of the *White Dove*

+looked that evening at dinner, with those

+geraniums, and roses, and fuchsias, and what

+not, set amid the tender green of the maidenhair

+fern!  But all the same there was a serious

+discussion.  Fruit, flowers, vegetables, and

+fresh milk, however welcome, fill no larder;

+and Master Fred had returned with the doleful

+tale that all his endeavours to purchase a sheep

+at one of the neighbouring farms had been

+of no avail.  Forthwith we resolve to make

+another effort.  Far away, on the outer shores

+of Dunvegan Loch, we can faintly descry, in

+the glow of the evening, some crofter's huts

+on the slopes of the hill.  Down with the gig,

+then, boys; in with the fishing-rods; and

+away for the distant shores, where haply, some

+tender ewe-lamb, or brace of quacking duck,

+or some half-dozen half-starved fowls may be

+withdrawn from the reluctant tiller of the

+earth!

+

+It is a beautiful clear evening, with

+lemon-gold glory in the north-west.  And our

+stout-sinewed Doctor is rowing stroke, and there is

+a monotonous refrain of

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |  A long, strong pull together,

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |

+

+"We must give you a wage as one of the

+hands, Angus," says Queen T.

+

+"I am paid already," says he.  "I would

+work my passage through for the sketch of

+Canna that Miss Avon gave me."

+

+"Would you like to ask the other men

+whether they would take the same payment?"

+says Miss Avon, in modest depreciation of

+her powers.

+

+"Do not say anything against the landscape

+ye gave to Dr. Sutherland," observes the

+Laird.  "No, no; there is great merit in it.

+I have told ye before I would like to show

+it to Tom Galbraith before it goes south; I

+am sure he would approve of it.  Indeed, he

+is jist such a friend of mine that I would take

+the leeberty of asking him to give it a bit

+touch here and there—what an experienced

+artist would see amiss ye know——"

+

+"Mr. Galbraith may be an experienced

+artist," says our Doctor friend with unnecessary

+asperity, "but he is not going to touch

+that picture."

+

+"Ah can tell ye," says the Laird, who is

+rather hurt by this rejection, "that the advice

+of Tom Galbraith has been taken by the

+greatest artists in England.  He was up in

+London last year, and was at the studio of

+one of the first of the Acadameecians, and that

+very man was not ashamed to ask the opeenion

+of Tom Galbraith.  And says Tom to him,

+'The face is very fine, but the right arm is out

+of drawing.'  You would think that impertinent?

+The Acadameecian, I can tell you,

+thought differently.  Says he, 'That has been

+my own opeenion, but no one would ever tell

+me so; and I would have left it as it is had

+ye no spoken.'"

+

+"I have no doubt the Academacian who did

+not know when his picture was out of drawing

+was quite right to take the advice of Tom

+Galbraith," says our stroke-oar.  "But Tom

+Galbraith is not going to touch Miss Avon's

+sketch of Canna——" and here the fierce

+altercation is stopped, for stroke-oar puts a

+fresh spurt on, and we hear another sound—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Soon the freshening breeze will blow.

+   |  Well show the snowy canvas on her,

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |    A long, strong pull together,

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |

+

+Well, what was the result of our quest?

+After we had landed Master Fred, and sent

+him up the hills, and gone off fishing for lithe

+for an hour or so, we returned to the shore

+in the gathering dusk.  We found our

+messenger seated on a rock, contentedly singing

+a Gaelic song, and plucking a couple of fowls

+which was all the provender he had secured.

+It was in vain that he tried to cheer us by

+informing us that the animals in question had

+cost only sixpence a-piece.  We knew that

+they were not much bigger than thrushes.

+Awful visions of tinned meats began to rise

+before us.  In gloom we took the steward and

+the microscopic fowls on board, and set out

+for the yacht.

+

+But the Laird did not lose his spirits.  He

+declared that self-preservation was the first law

+of nature, and that, despite the injunctions of

+the Wild Birds' Protection Act, he would get

+out his gun and shoot the first brood of

+"flappers" he saw about those lonely lochs.

+And he told us such a "good one" about

+Homesh that we laughed nearly all the way

+back to the yacht.  Provisions?  We were

+independent of provisions!  With a handful

+of rice a day we would cross the Atlantic—we

+would cross twenty Atlantics—so long as

+we were to be regaled and cheered by the

+"good ones" of our friend of Denny-mains.

+

+Dr. Sutherland, too, seemed in no wise

+depressed by the famine in the land.  In the

+lamp-lit saloon, as we gathered round the

+table, and cards and things were brought out,

+and the Laird began to brew his toddy, the

+young Doctor maintained that no one on land

+could imagine the snugness of life on board a

+yacht.  And now he had almost forgotten to

+speak of leaving us; perhaps it was the

+posting of the paper on Radiolarians, along with

+other MSS., that had set his mind free.  But

+touching that matter of the Dunvegan

+post-office: why had he been so particular in

+asking Mary Avon if she were not expecting

+letters; and why did he so suddenly grow

+enthusiastic about the scenery on learning that

+the young lady, on her travels, was not

+pestered with correspondence?  Miss Avon was

+not a Cabinet Minister.

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER XII.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+The last instructions given to John of Skye

+that night were large and liberal.  At break

+of day he was to sail for any port he might

+chance to encounter on the wide seas.  So

+long as Angus Sutherland did not speak of

+returning, what did it matter to us?—Loch

+Boisdale, Loch Seaforth, Stornaway, St. Kilda,

+the North Pole were all the same.  It is true

+that of fresh meat we had on board only two

+fowls about the size of wrens; but of all

+varieties of tinned meats and fruit we had an

+abundant store.  And if perchance we were

+forced to shoot a sheep on the Flannen Islands,

+would not the foul deed be put down to the

+discredit of those dastardly Frenchmen?

+When you rise up as a nation and guillotine

+all the respectable folk in the country, it is

+only to be expected of you thereafter that you

+should go about the seas shooting other

+people's sheep.

+

+And indeed when we get on deck after breakfast,

+we find that John of Skye has fulfilled

+his instructions to the letter; that is to say,

+he must have started at daybreak to get away

+so far from Dunvegan and the headlands of

+Skye.  But as for going farther?  There is

+not a speck of cloud in the dome of blue;

+there is not a ripple on the dazzling sea; there

+is not a breath of wind to stir the great white

+sails all aglow in the sunlight; nor is there

+even enough of the Atlantic swell to move

+the indolent tiller.  How John of Skye has

+managed to bring us so far on so calm a

+morning remains a mystery.

+

+"And the glass shows no signs of falling,"

+says our young Doctor quite regretfully: does

+he long for a hurricane, that so he may exhibit

+his sailor-like capacities?

+

+But Mary Avon, with a practical air, is

+arranging her easel on deck, and fixing up a

+canvas, and getting out the tubes she

+wants—the while she absently sings to herself

+something about

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |      Beauty lies

+   |      In many eyes,

+   |  But love in yours, my Nora Creina.

+

+And what will she attack now?  Those long

+headlands of Skye, dark in shadow, with a

+glow of sunlight along their summits; or those

+lonely hills of Uist set far amid the melancholy

+main; or those vaster and paler mountains of

+Harris, that rise on the north of the dreaded

+Sound?

+

+"Well, you *have* courage," says Angus

+Sutherland, admiringly, "to try to make a

+picture out of *that*!"

+

+"Oh," she says, modestly, though she is

+obviously pleased, "that is a pet theory of

+mine.  I try for ordinary every-day effects,

+without any theatrical business; and if I had

+only the power to reach them, I know I

+should surprise people.  Because you know

+most people go through the world with a sort

+of mist before their eyes; and they are awfully

+grateful to you when you suddenly clap a pair

+of spectacles on their nose and make them see

+things as they are.  I cannot do it as yet,

+you know; but there is no harm in trying."

+

+"I think you do it remarkably well," he

+says; "but what are you to make of

+that?—nothing but two great sheets of blue, with

+a line of bluer hills between?"

+

+But Miss Avon speedily presents us with

+the desired pair of spectacles.  Instead of the

+cloudless blue day we had imagined it to be,

+we find that there are low masses of white

+cloud along the Skye cliffs, and these throw

+long reflections on the glassy sea, and

+moreover we begin to perceive that the calm

+vault around us is not an uninterrupted blue,

+but melts into a pale green as it nears the

+eastern horizon.  Angus Sutherland leaves the

+artist to her work.  He will not interrupt her

+by idle talk.

+

+There is no idle talk going forward where

+the Laird is concerned.  He has got hold of

+an attentive listener in the person of his

+hostess, who is deep in needlework; and he

+is expounding to her more clearly than ever

+the merits of the great Semple case, pointing

+out more particularly how the charges in the

+major proposition are borne out by the

+extracts in the minor.  Yes; and he has caught

+the critics, too, on the hip.  What about

+the discovery of those clever gentlemen that

+Genesis X. and 10 was incorrect?  They

+thought they were exceedingly smart in

+proving that the founders of Babel were the

+descendants, not of Ham, but of Shem.  But

+when the ruins of Babel were examined,

+what then?

+

+"Why, it was distinctly shown that the

+founders were the descendants of Ham, after

+all!" says Denny-mains, triumphantly.  "What

+do ye think of that, Dr. Sutherland?"

+

+Angus Sutherland starts from a reverie: he

+has not been listening.

+

+"Of what?" he says.  "The Semple case?"

+

+"Ay."

+

+"Oh, well," he says, rather carelessly, "all

+that wrangling is as good an occupation as

+any other—to keep people from thinking."

+

+The Laird stares, as if he had not heard

+aright.  Angus Sutherland is not aware of

+having said anything startling.  He continues

+quite innocently—

+

+"Any occupation is valuable enough that

+diverts the mind—that is why hard work is

+conducive to complete mental health; it does

+not matter whether it is grouse-shooting, or

+commanding an army, or wrangling about

+major or minor propositions.  If a man were

+continually to be facing the awful mystery of

+existence—asking the record of the earth and

+the stars how he came to be here, and getting

+no answer at all—he must inevitably go mad.

+The brain could not stand it.  If the human

+race had not busied itself with wars and

+commerce, and so forth, it must centuries ago

+have committed suicide.  That is the value

+of hard work—to keep people from thinking

+of the unknown around them; the more a

+man is occupied, the happier he is—it does

+not matter whether he occupies himself with

+School Boards, or salmon-fishing, or the

+prosecution of a heretic."

+

+He did not remark the amazed look on the

+Laird's face, nor yet that Mary Avon had

+dropped her painting and was listening.

+

+"The fact is," he said, with a smile, "if you

+are likely to fall to thinking about the real

+mysteries of existence anywhere, it is among

+solitudes like these, where you see what a

+trivial little accident human life is in the

+history of the earth.  You can't think about such

+things in Regent Street; the cigar-shops, the

+cabs, the passing people occupy you.  But

+here you are brought back as it were to all

+sorts of first principles; and commonplaces

+appear somehow in their original freshness.

+In Regent Street you no doubt know that

+life is a strange thing, and that death is a

+strange thing, because you have been told so,

+and you believe it, and think no more about

+it.  But here—with the seas and skies round

+you, and with the silence of the night making

+you think, you *feel* the strangeness of these

+things.  Now just look over there; the blue

+sea, and the blue sky, and the hills—it is a

+curious thing to think that they will be shining

+there just as they are now—on just such

+another day as this—and you unable to see

+them or anything else—passed away like a

+ghost.  And the *White Dove* will be sailing

+up here; and John will be keeping an eye on

+Ushinish lighthouse; but your eyes won't be

+able to see anything——"

+

+"Well, Angus, I do declare," exclaims our

+sovereign mistress, "you have chosen a

+comforting thing to talk about this morning.  Are

+we to be always thinking about our coffin?"

+

+"On the contrary," says the young Doctor;

+"I was only insisting on the wholesomeness of

+people occupying themselves diligently with

+some distraction or other, however trivial.  And

+how do you think the Semple case will end, sir?"

+

+But our good friend of Denny-mains was far

+too deeply shocked and astounded to reply.

+The great Semple case a trivial thing—a

+distraction—an occupation to keep people from

+serious thinking!  The public duties, too, of the

+Commissioner for the Burgh of Strathgovan;

+were these to be regarded as a mere plaything?

+The new steam fire-engine was only a toy,

+then?  The proposed new park and the addition

+to the rates were to be regarded as a piece

+of amiable diversion?

+

+The Laird knew that Angus Sutherland had

+not read the *Vestiges of Creation*, and that

+was a hopeful sign.  But, *Vestiges* or no

+*Vestiges*, what were the young men of the day

+coming to if their daring speculations led them

+to regard the most serious and important

+concerns of life as a pastime?  The

+Commissioners for the Burgh of Strathgoven were

+but a parcel of children, then, playing on the

+sea-shore, and unaware of the awful deeps

+beyond?

+

+"I am looking at these things only as a

+doctor," says Dr. Sutherland, lightly—seeing

+that the Laird is too dumbfounded to answer

+his question, "and I sometimes think a doctor's

+history of civilisation would be an odd thing,

+if only you could get at the physiological facts

+of the case.  I should like to know, for example,

+what Napoleon had for supper on the night

+before Waterloo.  Something indigestible, you

+may be sure; if his brain had been clear on the

+15th, he would have smashed the Allies, and

+altered modern history.  I should have greatly

+liked, too, to make the acquaintance of the man

+who first announced his belief that infants dying

+unbaptised were to suffer eternal torture: I

+think it must have been his liver.  I should like

+to have examined him."

+

+"I should like to have poisoned him," says

+Mary Avon, with a flash of anger in the soft eyes.

+

+"Oh, no; the poor wretch was only the

+victim of some ailment," said our Doctor,

+charitably.  "There must have been something

+very much the matter with Calvin, too.  I

+know I could have cured Schopenhauer of his

+pessimism if he had let me put him on a

+wholesome regimen."

+

+The Laird probably did not know who

+Schopenhauer was; but the audacity of the

+new school was altogether too much for him.

+

+"I—I suppose," he said, stammering in his

+amazement, "ye would have taken Joan of Arc,

+and treated her as a lunatic?"

+

+"Oh, no; not as a confirmed lunatic," he

+answered, quite simply.  "But the diagnosis of

+that case is obvious; I think she could have

+been cured.  All that Joanna Southcote wanted

+was a frank physician."

+

+The Laird rose and went forward to where

+Mary Avon was standing at her easel.  He

+had had enough.  The criticism of landscape

+painting was more within his compass.

+

+"Very good—very good," says he, as if his

+whole attention had been occupied by her

+sketching.  "The reflections on the water are

+just fine.  Ye must let me show all your

+sketches to Tom Galbraith before ye go back

+to the south."

+

+"I hear you have been talking about the

+mysteries of existence," she says, with a smile.

+

+"Oh, ay, it is easy to talk," he says, sharply—and

+not willing to confess that he has been

+driven away from the field.  "I am afraid there

+is an unsettling tendency among the young

+men of the present day—a want of respect for

+things that have been established by the

+common sense of the world.  Not that I am

+against all innovation.  No, no.  The world

+cannot stand still.  I myself, now; do ye know

+that I was among the first in Glasgow to hold

+that it might be permissible to have an organ

+to lead the psalmody of a church?"

+

+"Oh, indeed," says she, with much respect.

+

+"That is true.  No, no; I am not one of the

+bigoted.  Give me the Essentials, and I do not

+care if ye put a stone cross on the top of the

+church.  I tell ye that honestly; I would not

+object even to a cross on the building if all was

+sound within."

+

+"I am sure you are quite right, sir," says

+Mary Avon, gently.

+

+"But no tampering with the Essentials.

+And as for the millinery, and incense, and

+crucifixes of they poor craytures that have not

+the courage to go right over to Rome—who

+stop on this side, and play-act at being

+Romans—it is seeckening—perfectly seeckening.  As

+for the Romans themselves, I do not condemn

+them.  No, no.  If they are in error, I doubt

+not they believe with a good conscience.  And

+when I am in a foreign town, and one o' their

+processions of priests and boys comes by, I

+raise my hat.  I do indeed."

+

+"Oh, naturally," says Mary Avon.

+

+"No, no," continues Denny-mains, warmly,

+"there is none of the bigot about me.  There

+is a minister of the Episcopalian Church that I

+know; and there is no one more welcome in

+my house: I ask him to say grace just as I

+would a minister of my own Church."

+

+"And which is that, sir?" she asked meekly.

+

+The Laird stares at her.  Is it possible that

+she has heard him so elaborately expound

+the Semple prosecution, and not be aware to

+what denomination he belongs?

+

+"The Free—the Free Church, of course,"

+he says, with some surprise.  "Have ye not

+seen the *Report of Proceedings* in the Semple

+case?"

+

+"No, I have not," she answers, timidly.

+"You have been so kind in explaining it that—that

+a printed report was quite unnecessary."

+

+"But I will get ye one—I will get ye one

+directly," says he.  "I have several copies in

+my portmanteau.  And ye will see my name in

+front as one of the elders who considered it fit

+and proper that a full report should be

+published, so as to warn the public against these

+inseedious attacks against our faith.  Don't

+interrupt your work, my lass; but I will get

+ye the pamphlet; and whenever you want to

+sit down for a time, ye will find it most

+interesting reading—most interesting."

+

+And so the worthy Laird goes below to fetch

+that valued report.  And scarcely has he

+disappeared than a sudden commotion rages

+over the deck.  Behold! a breeze coming swiftly

+over the sea—ruffling the glassy deep as it

+approaches!  Angus Sutherland jumps to the

+tiller.  The head-sails fill; and the boat begins

+to move.  The lee-sheets are hauled taut; and

+now the great mainsail is filled too.  There is

+a rippling and hissing of water; and a new

+stir of life and motion throughout the vessel

+from stem to stern.

+

+It seems but the beginning of the day now,

+though it is near lunch-time.  Mary Avon puts

+away her sketch of the dead calm, and sits

+down just under the lee of the boom, where

+the cool breeze is blowing along.  The Laird,

+having brought up the pamphlet, is vigorously

+pacing the deck for his morning exercise; we

+have all awakened from these idle reveries

+about the mystery of life.

+

+"Ha, ha," he says, coming aft, "this is

+fine—this is fine now.  Why not give the men a

+glass of whiskey all round for whistling up such a

+fine breeze?  Do ye think they would object?"

+

+"Better give them a couple of bottles of

+beer for their dinner," suggests Queen T., who

+is no lover of whiskey.

+

+But do you think the Laird is to be put off

+his story by any such suggestion?  We can

+see by his face that he has an anecdote to fire

+off; is it not apparent that his mention of

+whiskey was made with a purpose?

+

+"There was a real good one," says he—and

+the laughter is already twinkling in his eyes,

+"about the man that was apologising before

+his family for having been drinking whiskey

+with some friends.  'Ay,' says he, 'they just

+held me and forced it down my throat.'  Then

+says his son—a little chap about ten—says he,

+'I think I could ha' held ye mysel',

+feyther'—ho! ho! ho!' says he, 'I think I could ha'

+held ye mysel', feyther;'" and the Laird

+laughed, and laughed again, till the tears came

+into his eyes.  We could see that he was still

+internally laughing at that good one when we

+went below for luncheon.

+

+At luncheon, too, the Laird quite made up his

+feud with Angus Sutherland, for he had a great

+many other good ones to tell about whiskey

+and whiskey drinking; and he liked a

+sympathetic audience.  But this general merriment

+was suddenly dashed by an ominous suggestion

+coming from our young Doctor.  Why,

+he asked, should we go on fighting against

+these northerly winds?  Why not turn and run

+before them?

+

+"Then you want to leave us, Angus," said

+his hostess reproachfully.

+

+"Oh, no," he said, and with some colour in

+his face.  "I don't want to go, but I fear I

+must very soon now.  However, I did not

+make that suggestion on my own account; if I

+were pressed for time, I could get somewhere

+where I could catch the *Clansman*."

+

+Mary Avon looked down, saying nothing.

+

+"You would not leave the ship like that,"

+says his hostess.  "You would not run away,

+surely?  Rather than that we will turn at once.

+Where are we now?"

+

+"If the breeze lasts, we will get over to

+Uist, to Loch na Maddy, this evening, but you

+must not think of altering your plans on my

+account.  I made the suggestion because of

+what Captain John was saying."

+

+"Very well," says our Admiral of the Fleet,

+taking no heed of properly constituted

+authority.  "Suppose we set out on our return

+voyage to-morrow morning, going round the

+other side of Skye for a change.  But you

+know, Angus, it is not fair of you to run

+away when you say yourself there is nothing

+particular calls you to London."

+

+"Oh," says he, "I am not going to London

+just yet.  I am going to Banff, to see my

+father.  There is an uncle of mine, too, on a

+visit to the manse."

+

+"Then you will be coming south again?"

+

+"Yes."

+

+"Then why not come another cruise with us

+on your way back?"

+

+It was not like this hard-headed young

+Doctor to appear so embarrassed.

+

+"That is what I should like very much

+myself," he stammered, "if—if I were not in

+the way of your other arrangements."

+

+"We shall make no other arrangements,"

+says the other definitely.  "Now that is a

+promise, mind.  No drawing back.  Mary will

+put it down in writing, and hold you to it."

+

+Mary Avon had not looked up all this time.

+

+"You should not press Dr. Sutherland too

+much," she says shyly; "perhaps he has other

+friends he would like to see before leaving

+Scotland."

+

+The hypocrite!  Did she want to make

+Angus Sutherland burst a blood-vessel in

+protesting that of all the excursions he had made

+in his life this would be to him for ever the

+most memorable; and that a repetition or

+extension of it was a delight in the future

+almost too great to think of?  However, she

+seemed pleased that he spoke so warmly, and

+she did not attempt to contradict him.  If he

+had really enjoyed all this rambling idleness, it

+would no doubt the better fit him for his work

+in the great capital.

+

+We beat in to Loch na Maddy—that is, the

+Lake of the Dogs—in the quiet evening; and

+the rather commonplace low-lying hills, and the

+plain houses of the remote little village, looked

+beautiful enough under the glow of the western

+skies.  And we went ashore, and walked

+inland for a space, through an intricate

+network of lagoons inbranching from the sea;

+and we saw the trout leaping and making

+circles on the gold-red pools, and watched the

+herons rising from their fishing and winging

+their slow flight across the silent lakes.

+

+And it was a beautiful night, too, and we

+had a little singing on deck.  Perhaps there

+was an under-current of regret in the knowledge

+that now—for this voyage, at least—we

+had touched our farthest point.  To-morrow we

+were to set out again for the south.

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`FERDINAND AND MIRANDA`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER XIII.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   FERDINAND AND MIRANDA.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+The wind was laughing at Angus Sutherland.

+All the time we had been sailing north

+it had blown from the north; how that we

+turned our faces eastward, it wheeled round

+to the east, as if it would imprison him for

+ever in this floating home.

+

+"*You would fain get away*"—this was the

+mocking sound that one of us seemed to hear

+in those light airs of the morning that blew

+along the white canvas—"*the world calls;

+ambition, fame, the eagerness of rivalry, the spell

+that science throws over her disciples, all these

+are powerful, and they draw you, and you

+would fain get away.  But the hand of the

+wind is uplifted against you; you may fret as

+you will, but you are not round Ru Hunish yet!*"

+

+And perhaps the imaginative small creature

+who heard these strange things in the light

+breeze against which we were fighting our way

+across the Minch may have been forming her

+own plans.  Angus Sutherland, she used often

+to say, wanted humanising.  He was too proud

+and scornful in the pride of his knowledge;

+the gentle hand of a woman was needed to

+lead him into more tractable ways.  And then

+this Mary Avon, with her dexterous, nimble

+woman's wit, and her indomitable courage, and

+her life and spirit, and abounding cheerfulness;

+would she not be a splendid companion for

+him during his long and hard struggle?  This

+born match-maker had long ago thrown away

+any notion about the Laird transferring our

+singing-bird to Denny-mains.  She had almost

+forgotten about the project of bringing Howard

+Smith, the Laird's nephew, and half-compelling

+him to marry Mary Avon: that was preposterous

+on the face of it.  But she had grown

+accustomed, during those long days of tranquil

+idleness, to see our young Doctor and Mary

+Avon together, cut off from all the distractions of

+the world, a new Paul and Virginia.  Why—she

+may have asked herself—should not these two

+solitary waifs, thus thrown by chance together

+on the wide ocean of existence, why should

+they not cling to each other and strengthen

+each other in the coming days of trial and

+storm?  The strange, pathetic, phantasmal

+farce of life is brief; they cannot seize it and

+hold it, and shape it to their own ends; they

+know not whence it comes, or whither it goes;

+but while the brief, strange thing lasts, they

+can grasp each other's hand, and make

+sure—amid all the unknown things around them,

+the mountains, and the wide seas, and the

+stars—of some common, humble, human

+sympathy.  It is so natural to grasp the hand

+of another in the presence of something

+vast and unknown.

+

+The rest of us, at all events, have no time

+for such vague dreams and reveries.  There

+is no idleness on board the *White Dove* out

+here on the shining deep.  Dr. Sutherland

+has rigged up for himself a sort of gymnasium

+by putting a rope across the shrouds to the

+peak halyards; and on this rather elastic

+cross-bar he is taking his morning exercise by going

+through a series of performances, no doubt

+picked up in Germany.  Miss Avon is busy

+with a sketch of the long headland running

+out to Vaternish Point; though, indeed, this

+smooth Atlantic roll makes it difficult for her

+to keep her feet, and introduces a certain

+amount of haphazard into her handiwork.

+The Laird has brought on deck a formidable

+portfolio of papers, no doubt relating to the

+public affairs of Strathgovan; and has put on

+his gold spectacles; and has got his pencil in

+hand.  Master Fred is re-arranging the cabins;

+the mistress of the yacht is looking after her

+flowers.  And then is heard the voice of John

+of Skye—"*Stand by, boys!*" and "*Bout ship!*"

+and the helm goes down, and the jib and

+foresail flutter and tear at the blocks and

+sheets, and then the sails gently fill, and the

+*White Dove* is away on another tack.

+

+"Well, I give in," says Mary Avon, at last,

+as a heavier lurch than usual threatens to

+throw her and her easel together into the

+scuppers.  "It *is* no use."

+

+"I thought you never gave in, Mary," says

+our Admiral, whose head has appeared again

+at the top of the companion-stairs.

+

+"I wonder who could paint like this," says

+Miss Avon, indignantly.  And indeed she is

+trussed up like a fowl, with one arm round

+one of the gig davits.

+

+"Turner was lashed to the mast of a vessel

+in order to see a storm," says Queen T.

+

+"But not to paint," retorts the other.

+"Besides, I am not Turner.  Besides, I am tired."

+

+By this time, of course, Angus Sutherland

+has come to her help; and removes her easel

+and what not for her; and fetches her a

+deck-chair.

+

+"Would you like to play chess?" says he.

+

+"Oh, yes," she answers dutifully, "if you

+think the pieces will stay on the board."

+

+"Draughts will be safer," says he, and

+therewith he plunges below, and fetches up

+the squared board.

+

+And so, on this beautiful summer day, with

+the shining seas around them, and a cool breeze

+tempering the heat of the sun, Ferdinand and

+Miranda set to work.  And it was a pretty

+sight to see them—her soft dark eyes so full

+of an anxious care to acquit herself well; his

+robust, hard, fresh-coloured face full of a sort

+of good-natured forbearance.  But nevertheless

+it was a strange game.  All Scotchmen are

+supposed to play draughts; and one brought

+up in a manse is almost of necessity a good

+player.  But one astonished onlooker began

+to perceive that, whereas Mary Avon played

+but indifferently, her opponent played with a

+blindness that was quite remarkable.  She

+had a very pretty, small, white hand; was he

+looking at that that he did not, on one occasion,

+see how he could have taken three pieces and

+crowned his man all at one fell swoop?  And

+then is it considered incumbent on a

+draught-player to inform his opponent of what would

+be a better move on the part of the latter?

+However that may be, true it is that, by dint

+of much advice, opportune blindness, and

+atrocious bad play, the Doctor managed to

+get the game ended in a draw.

+

+"Dear me," said Mary Avon, "I never

+thought I should have had a chance.  The

+Scotch are such good draught-players."

+

+"But you play remarkably well," said he—and

+there was no blush of shame on his face.

+

+Draughts and luncheon carry us on to the

+afternoon; and still the light breeze holds out;

+and we get nearer and nearer to the most

+northerly points of Skye.  And as the evening

+draws on, we can now make out the hilly line

+of Ross-shire—a pale rose-colour in the far

+east; and nearer at hand is the Skye coast,

+with the warm sunlight touching on the ruins

+of Duntulme, where Donald Gorm Mor fed

+his imprisoned nephew on salt beef, and then

+lowered to him an empty cup—mocking him

+before he died; and then in the west the

+mountains of Harris, a dark purple against

+the clear lemon-golden glow.  But as night

+draws on, behold! the wind dies away altogether;

+and we lie becalmed on a lilac-and-silver

+sea, with some rocky islands over there

+grown into a strange intense green in the

+clear twilight.

+

+Down with the gig, then, John of Skye!—and

+hurry in all our rods, and lines, and

+the occult entrapping inventions of our

+patriarch of Denny-mains.  We have no scruple

+about leaving the yacht in mid-ocean, in charge

+of the steward only.  The clear twilight shines

+in the sky; there is not a ripple on the sea;

+only the long Atlantic swell that we can hear

+breaking far away on the rocks.  And surely

+such calms are infrequent in the Minch; and

+surely these lonely rocks can have been visited

+but seldom by passing voyagers?

+

+Yet the great rollers—as we near the

+forbidding shores—break with an ominous thunder

+on the projecting points and reefs.  The Doctor

+insists on getting closer and closer—he knows

+where the big lithe are likely to be found—and

+the men, although they keep a watchful eye

+about them, obey.  And then—it is Mary Avon

+who first calls out—and behold!  her rod is

+suddenly dragged down—the point is hauled below

+the water—agony and alarm are on her face.

+

+"Here—take it—take it!" she calls out.

+"The rod will be broken."

+

+"Not a bit," the Doctor calls out.  "Give

+him the butt hard!  Never mind the rod!

+Haul away!"

+

+And indeed by this time everybody was

+alternately calling and hauling; and John of

+Skye, attending to the rods of the two ladies,

+had scarcely time to disengage the big fish,

+and smooth the flies again; and the Laird

+was declaring that these lithe fight as hard

+as a twenty-pound salmon.  What did we care

+about those needles and points of black rock

+that every two or three seconds showed their

+teeth through the breaking white surf?

+

+"Keep her close in, boys!" Angus Sutherland

+cried.  "We shall have a fine pickling

+to-morrow."

+

+Then one fish, stronger or bigger than his

+fellows, pulls the rod clean out of Mary Avon's

+hands.

+

+"Well, I have done it this time," she says.

+

+"Not a bit!" her companion cries.  "Up

+all lines!  Back now, lads—gently!"

+

+And as the stern of the boat is shoved over

+the great glassy billows, behold! a thin dark

+line occasionally visible—the end of the lost

+rod!  Then there is a swoop on the part of

+our Doctor; he has both his hands on the

+butt; there elapses a minute or two of fighting

+between man and fish; and then we can see

+below the boat the wan gleam of the captured

+animal as it comes to the surface in slow

+circles.  Hurrah! a seven-pounder!  John of

+Skye chuckles to himself as he grasps the

+big lithe.

+

+"Oh, ay!" he says, "the young leddy knows

+ferry well when to throw away the rod.  It

+is a gran' good thing to throw away the rod

+when there will be a big fish.  Ay, ay, it iss

+a good fish."

+

+But the brutes that fought hardest of all

+were the dog-fish—the snakes of the sea; and

+there was a sort of holy Archangelic joy on

+the face of John of Skye when he seized a

+lump of stick to fell these hideous creatures

+before flinging them back into the water again.

+And yet why should they have been killed on

+account of their snake-like eyes and their cruel

+mouth?  The human race did not rise and

+extirpate Frederick Smethurst because he was

+ill-favoured.

+

+By half-past ten we had secured a good

+cargo of fish; and then we set out for the

+yacht.  The clear twilight was still shining

+above the Harris hills; but there was a dusky

+shadow along the Outer Hebrides, where the

+orange ray of Scalpa light was shining; and

+there was dusk in the south, so that the yacht

+had become invisible altogether.  It was a long

+pull back; for the *White Dove* had been carried

+far by the ebb tide.  When we found her, she

+looked like a tall grey ghost in the gathering

+darkness; and no light had as yet been put

+up; but all the same we had a laughing

+welcome from Master Fred, who was glad to have

+the fresh fish wherewith to supplement our

+frugal meals.

+

+Then the next morning—when we got up

+and looked around—we were in the same

+place!  And the glass would not fall; and the

+blue skies kept blue; and we had to encounter

+still another day of dreamy idleness.

+

+"The weather is conspiring against you,

+Angus," our sovereign lady said, with a smile.

+"And you know you cannot run away from the

+yacht: it would be so cowardly to take the

+steamer."

+

+"Well, indeed," said he, "it is the first time

+in my life that I have found absolute idleness

+enjoyable; and I am not so very anxious it

+should end.  Somehow, though, I fear we are

+too well off.  When we get back to the

+region of letters and telegrams, don't you

+think we shall have to pay for all this selfish

+happiness?"

+

+"Then why should we go back?" she says

+lightly.  "Why not make a compact to forsake

+the world altogether, and live all our life on

+board the *White Dove*?"

+

+Somehow, his eyes wandered to Mary Avon;

+and he said—rather absently—

+

+"I, for one, should like it well enough; if it

+were only possible."

+

+"No, no," says the Laird, brusquely, "that

+will no do at all.  It was never intended that

+people should go and live for themselves like

+that.  Ye have your duties to the nation and to

+the laws that protect ye.  When I left

+Denny-mains I told my brother Commissioners that

+what I could do when I was away to further

+the business of the Burgh I would do; and I

+have entered most minutely into several

+matters of great importance.  And that is why I

+am anxious to get to Portree.  I expect

+most important letters there."

+

+Portree!  Our whereabouts on the chart last

+night was marked between 45 and 46 fathoms

+W.S.W. from some nameless rocks; and here,

+as far as we can make out, we are still between

+these mystical numbers.  What can we do but

+chat, and read, and play draughts, and twirl

+round a rope, and ascend to the cross-trees to

+look out for a breeze, and watch and listen to

+the animal-life around us?

+

+"I do think," says Mary Avon to her hostess,

+"the calling of those divers is the softest and

+most musical sound I ever heard; perhaps

+because it is associated with so many beautiful

+places.  Just fancy, now, if you were suddenly

+to hear a diver symphony beginning in an

+opera—if all the falsetto recitative and the

+blare of the trumpets were to stop—and if you

+were to hear the violins and flutes beginning,

+quite low and soft, a diver symphony, would

+you not think of the Hebrides, and the *White

+Dove*, and the long summer days?  In the

+winter, you know, in London, I fancy we

+should go once or twice to see *that* opera!"

+

+"I have never been to an opera," remarks

+the Laird, quite impervious to Mary Avon's

+tender enthusiasm.  "I am told it is a fantastic

+exhibeetion."

+

+One incident of that day was the appearance

+of a new monster of the deep, which approached

+quite close to the hull of the *White Dove*.

+Leaning over the rail we could see him clearly

+in the clear water—a beautiful, golden,

+submarine insect, with a conical body like that of a

+land-spider, and six or eight slender legs, by

+the incurving of which he slowly propelled

+himself through the water.  As we were

+perfectly convinced that no one had ever been in

+such dead calms in the Minch before, and had

+lain for twenty-four hours in the neighbourhood

+of 45 and 46, we took it for granted that this

+was a new animal.  In the temporary absence

+of our F.R.S., the Laird was bold enough to

+name it the *Arachne Mary-Avonensis*; but did

+not seek to capture it.  It went on its golden way.

+

+But we were not to linger for ever in these

+northern seas, surrounded by perpetual summer

+calms—however beautiful the prospect might

+be to a young man fallen away, for the moment,

+from his high ambitions.  Whatever summons

+from the far world might be awaiting us at

+Portree was soon to be served upon us.  In

+the afternoon a slight breeze sprung up that

+gently carried us away past Ru Hunish, and

+round by Eilean Trodda, and down by Altavaig.

+The grey-green basaltic cliffs of the Skye coast

+were now in shadow; but the strong sunlight

+beat on the grassy ledges above; and there

+was a distant roar of water along the rocks.

+This other throbbing sound, too: surely that

+must be some steamer far away on the other

+side of Rona?

+

+The sunset deepened.  Darker and darker

+grew the shadows in the great mountains

+above us.  We heard the sea along the solitary

+shores.

+

+The stars came out in the twilight: they

+seemed clearest just over the black mountains.

+In the silence there was the sound of a

+waterfall somewhere—in among those dark cliffs.

+Then our side-lights were put up; and we sate

+on deck; and Mary Avon, nestling close to her

+friend, was persuaded to sing for her

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Yestreen the Queen had four Maries

+

+—just as if she had never heard the song

+before.  The hours went by; Angus Sutherland

+was talking in a slow, earnest, desultory

+fashion; and surely he must have been

+conscious that one heart there at least was eagerly

+and silently listening to him.  The dawn was

+near at hand when finally we consented to go

+below.

+

+What time of the morning was it that we

+heard John of Skye call out "*Six or seven

+fathoms 'll do?*"  We knew at least that we

+had got into harbour; and that the first golden

+glow of the daybreak was streaming through

+the skylights of the saloon.  We had returned

+from the wilds to the claims and the cares of

+civilisation; if there was any message to us, for

+good or for evil, from the distant world we had

+left for so long, it was now waiting for us on

+shore.

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`EVIL TIDINGS`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER XIV.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   EVIL TIDINGS.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+We had indeed returned to the world: the

+first thing we saw on entering the saloon in

+the morning was a number of letters—actual

+letters, that had come through a post-office—lying

+on the breakfast-table.  We stared at

+these strange things.  Our good Queen T. was

+the first to approach them.  She took

+them up as if she expected they would bite her.

+

+"Oh, Mary," she says, "there is not one for

+you—not one."

+

+Angus Sutherland glanced quickly at the

+girl.  But there was not the least trace of

+disappointment on her face.  On the contrary,

+she said, with a cheerful indifference—

+

+"So much the better.  They only bother people."

+

+But of course they had to be opened and

+read—even the bulky parcel from Strathgovan.

+The only bit of intelligence that came from that

+quarter was to the effect that Tom Galbraith

+had been jilted by his lady-love; but as the

+rumour, it appeared, was in circulation among

+the Glasgow artists, the Laird instantly and

+indignantly refused to believe it.  Envy is the

+meanest of the passions; and we knew that the

+Glasgow artists could scarcely sleep in their

+bed at night for thinking of the great fame of

+Mr. Galbraith of Edinburgh.  However, amid

+all these letters one of us stumbled upon one

+little item that certainly concerned us.  It was

+a clipping from the advertisement column of a

+newspaper.  It was inclosed, without word or

+comment, by a friend in London who knew

+that we were slightly acquainted, perforce, with

+Mr. Frederick Smethurst.  And it appeared

+that that gentleman, having got into difficulties

+with his creditors, had taken himself off, in a

+surreptitious and evil manner, insomuch that this

+newspaper clipping was nothing more nor less

+than a hue and cry after the fraudulent bankrupt.

+That letter and its startling inclosure

+were quickly whipped into the pocket of the

+lady to whom they had been sent.

+

+By great good luck Mary Avon was the first

+to go on deck.  She was anxious to see this

+new harbour into which we had got.  And

+then, with considerable dismay on her face, our

+sovereign mistress showed us this ugly thing.

+She was much excited.  It was so shameful of

+him to bring this disgrace on Mary Avon!

+What would the poor girl say?  And this

+gentle lady would not for worlds have her told

+while she was with us—until at least we got

+back to some more definite channel of

+information.  She was, indeed, greatly distressed.

+

+But we had to order her to dismiss these idle

+troubles.  We formed ourselves into a

+committee on the spot; and this committee

+unanimously, if somewhat prematurely, and recklessly,

+resolved—

+

+First, that it was not of the slightest

+consequence to us or any human creature where

+Mr. Frederick Smethurst was, or what he

+might do with himself.

+

+Secondly, that if Mr. Frederick Smethurst

+were to put a string and a stone round his neck

+and betake himself to the bottom of the sea, he

+would earn our gratitude and in some measure

+atone for his previous conduct.

+

+Thirdly, that nothing at all about the matter

+should be said to Mary Avon: if the man had

+escaped, there might probably be an end of the

+whole business.

+

+To these resolutions, carried swiftly and

+unanimously, Angus Sutherland added a sort

+of desultory rider, to the effect that moral or

+immoral qualities do sometimes reveal

+themselves in the face.  He was also of opinion

+that spare persons were more easy of detection

+in this manner.  He gave an instance of a

+well-known character in London—a most

+promising ruffian who had run through the whole

+gamut of discreditable offences.  Why was

+there no record of this brave career written in

+the man's face?  Because nature had

+obliterated the lines in fat.  When a man attains

+to the dimensions and appearance of a

+scrofulous toad swollen to the size of an ox, moral

+and mental traces get rubbed out.  Therefore,

+contended our F.R.S., all persons who set out

+on a career of villany, and don't want to be

+found out, should eat fat-producing foods.

+Potatoes and sugar he especially mentioned as

+being calculated to conceal crime.

+

+However, we had to banish Frederick

+Smethurst and his evil deeds from our minds;

+for the yacht from end to end was in a bustle

+of commotion about our going ashore; and as

+for us—why, we meant to run riot in all the

+wonders and delights of civilisation.  Innumerable

+fowls, tons of potatoes and cabbage and

+lettuce, fresh butter, new loaves, new milk:

+there was no end to the visions that rose before

+the excited brain of our chief commissariat

+officer.  And when the Laird, in the act of

+stepping, with much dignity, into the gig,

+expressed his firm conviction that somewhere

+or other we should stumble upon a Glasgow

+newspaper not more than a week old, so that

+he might show us the reports of the meetings

+of the Strathgovan Commissioners, we knew of

+no further luxury that the mind could desire.

+

+And as we were being rowed ashore, we

+could not fail to be struck by the extraordinary

+abundance of life and business and activity in

+the world.  Portree, with its wooded crags and

+white houses shining in the sun, seemed a large

+and populous city.  The smooth waters of the

+bay were crowded with craft of every

+description; and the boats of the yachts were coming

+and going with so many people on board of

+them that we were quite stared out of

+countenance.  And then, when we landed, and walked

+up the quay, and ascended the hill into the

+town, we regarded the signs over the

+shop-doors with the same curiosity that regards the

+commonest features of a foreign street.  There

+was a peculiarity about Portree, however, that

+is not met with in continental capitals.  We

+felt that the ground swayed lightly under our

+feet.  Perhaps these were the last oscillations

+of the great volcanic disturbance that shot the

+black Coolins into the sky.

+

+Then the shops: such displays of beautiful

+things, in silk, and wool, and cunning

+woodwork; human ingenuity declaring itself in a

+thousand ways, and appealing to our purses.

+Our purses, to tell the truth, were gaping.  A

+craving for purchase possessed us.  But, after

+all, the Laird could not buy servant girls'

+scarves as a present for Mary Avon; and Angus

+Sutherland did not need a second waterproof

+coat; and though we reached the telegraph

+office, there would have been a certain monotony

+in spending innumerable shillings on

+unnecessary telegrams, even though we might be

+rejoicing in one of the highest conveniences of

+civilisation.  The plain truth must be told.  Our

+purchases were limited to some tobacco and a

+box or two of paper collars for the men; to

+one or two shilling novels; and a flask of

+eau-de-Cologne.  We did not half avail ourselves

+of all the luxuries spread out so temptingly

+before us.

+

+"Do you think the men will have the water

+on board yet?" Mary Avon says, as we walk

+back.  "I do not at all like being on land.

+The sun scorches so, and the air is stifling."

+

+"In my opeenion," says the Laird, "the

+authorities of Portree are deserving of great

+credit for having fixed up the apparatus to let

+boats get water on board at the quay.  It was

+a public-spirited project—it was that.  And I

+do not suppose that any one grumbles at

+having to pay a shilling for the privilege.  It is a

+legeetimate tax.  I am sure it would have been

+a long time or we could have got such a thing

+at Strathgovan, if there was need for it there;

+ye would scarcely believe it, ma'am, what a

+spirit of opposition there is among some o' the

+Commissioners to any improvement, ye would

+not believe it."

+

+"Indeed," she says, in innocent wonder; she

+quite sympathises with this public-spirited

+reformer.

+

+"Ay, it's true.  Mind ye, I am a Conservative

+myself; I will have nothing to do with

+Radicals and their Republics; no, no, but a

+wise Conservative knows how to march with

+the age.  Take my own poseetion: for

+example, as soon as I saw that the steam

+fire-engine was a necessity, I withdrew my

+opposition at once.  I am very thankful to you,

+ma'am, for having given me an opportunity of

+carefully considering the question.  I will never

+forget our trip round Mull.  Dear me! it is

+warm the day," added the Laird, as he raised

+his broad felt hat, and wiped his face with his

+voluminous silk handkerchief.

+

+Here come two pedestrians—good-looking

+young lads of an obviously English type—and

+faultlessly equipped from head to heel.  They

+look neither to the left nor right; on they go

+manfully through the dust, the sun scorching

+their faces; there must be a trifle of heat

+under these knapsacks.  Well, we wish them

+fine weather and whole heels.  It is not the

+way some of us would like to pass a holiday.

+For what is this that Miss Avon is singing

+lightly to herself as she walks carelessly on,

+occasionally pausing to look in at a shop—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  And often have we seamen heard how men are killed or undone,

+   |  By overturns of carriages, and thieves, and fires in London.

+

+Here she turns aside to caress a small terrier;

+but the animal, mistaking her intention, barks

+furiously, and retreats, growling and ferocious,

+into the shop.  Miss Avon is not disturbed.

+She walks on, and completes her nautical

+ballad—all for her own benefit—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  We've heard what risk all landsmen run, from noblemen to tailors,

+   |  So, Billy, let's thank Providence that you and I are sailors!

+   |

+

+"What on earth is that, Mary?" her friend

+behind asks.

+

+The girl stops with a surprised look, as if

+she had scarcely been listening to herself; then

+she says lightly:—

+

+"Oh, don't you know the sailor's song—I

+forget what they call it:—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  A strong sou-wester's blowing, Billy, can't you hear it roar now,

+   |  Lord help 'em, how I pities all unhappy folks on shore now.

+   |

+

+"You have become a thorough sailor, Miss

+Avon," says Angus Sutherland, who has

+overheard the last quotation.

+

+"I—I like it better—I am more interested,"

+she says, timidly, "since you were so kind as

+to show me the working of the ship."

+

+"Indeed," says he, "I wish you would take

+command of her, and order her present captain

+below.  Don't you see how tired his eyes are

+becoming?  He won't take his turn of sleep

+like the others; he has been scarcely off the

+deck night or day since we left Canna; and I

+find it is no use remonstrating with him.  He

+is too anxious; and he fancies I am in a hurry

+to get back; and these continual calms prevent

+his getting on.  Now the whole difficulty would

+be solved, if you let me go back by the steamer;

+then you could lie at Portree here for a night

+or two, and let him have some proper rest."

+

+"I do believe, Angus," says his hostess,

+laughing in her gentle way, "that you threaten

+to leave us just to see how anxious we are to

+keep you."

+

+"My position as ship's doctor," he retorts,

+"is compromised.  If Captain John falls ill on

+my hands whom am I to blame but myself?"

+

+"I am quite sure I can get him to go below,"

+says Mary Avon, with decision—"quite sure of

+it.  That is, especially," she adds, rather shyly,

+"if you will take his place.  I know he would

+place more dependence on you than on any of

+the men."

+

+This is a very pretty compliment to pay to

+one who is rather proud of his nautical knowledge.

+

+"Well," he says, laughing, "the responsibility

+must rest on you.  Order him below,

+to-night, and see whether he obeys.  If we

+don't get to a proper anchorage, we will

+manage to sail the yacht somehow among

+us—you being captain, Miss Avon."

+

+"If I am captain," she says, lightly—though

+she turns away her head somewhat,

+"I shall forbid your deserting the ship."

+

+"So long as you are captain, you need not fear

+that," he answers.  Surely he could say no less.

+

+But it was still John of Skye who was

+skipper when, on getting under way, we nearly

+met with a serious accident.  Fresh water and

+all provisions having been got on board, we

+weighed anchor only to find the breeze die

+wholly down.  Then the dingay was got out to

+tow the yacht away from the sheltered harbour;

+and our young Doctor, always anxious for

+hard work, must needs jump in to join in this

+service.  But the little boat had been straining

+at the cable for scarcely five minutes when a

+squall of wind came over from the north-west

+and suddenly filled the sails.  "Look out there,

+boys!" called Captain John, for we were

+running full down on the dingay.  "Let go the

+rope!  Let go!" he shouted: but they would

+not let go, as the dingay came sweeping by.

+In fact, she caught the yacht just below the

+quarter, and seemed to disappear altogether.

+Mary Avon uttered one brief cry; and then

+stood pale—clasping one of the ropes—not

+daring to look.  And John of Skye uttered

+some exclamation in the Gaelic; and jumped

+on to the taffrail.  But the next thing we saw,

+just above the taffrail, was the red and shining

+and laughing face of Angus Sutherland, who

+was hoisting himself up by means of the mizen

+boom; and directly afterwards appeared the

+scarlet cap of Hector of Moidart.  It was

+upon this latter culprit that the full force of

+John of Skye's wrath was expended.

+

+"Why did you not let go the rope when I

+wass call to you?"

+

+"It is all right, and if I wass put into the

+water, I have been in the water before," was

+the philosophic reply.

+

+And now it was, as we drew away from

+Portree, that Captain Mary Avon endeavoured

+to assume supreme command and would have

+the deposed skipper go below and sleep.  John

+of Skye was very obedient, but he said:—"Oh,

+ay.  I will get plenty of sleep.  But that

+hill there, that is Ben Inivaig; and there is not

+any hill in the West Highlands so bad for

+squalls as that hill.  By and by I will get

+plenty of sleep."

+

+Ben Inivaig let us go past its great, gloomy,

+forbidding shoulders and cliffs without visiting

+us with anything worse than a few variable

+puffs; and we got well down into the Raasay

+Narrows.  What a picture of still summer

+loveliness was around us!—the rippling blue

+seas, the green shores, and far over these the

+black peaks of the Coolins now taking a purple

+tint in the glow of the afternoon.  The shallow

+Sound of Scalpa we did not venture to attack,

+especially as it was now low water; we went

+outside Scalpa, by the rocks of Skier Dearg.

+And still John of Skye evaded, with a gentle

+Highland courtesy, the orders of the captain.

+The silver bell of Master Fred summoned us

+below for dinner, and still John of Skye was

+gently obdurate.

+

+"Now, John," says Mary Avon, seriously, to

+him, "you want to make me angry."

+

+"Oh, no, mem; I not think that," says he,

+deprecatingly.

+

+"Then why won't you go and have some

+sleep?  Do you want to be ill?"

+

+"Oh, there iss plenty of sleep," says he.

+"Maybe we will get to Kyle Akin to-night;

+and there will be plenty of sleep for us."

+

+"But I am asking you as a favour to go and

+get some sleep *now*.  Surely the men can take

+charge of the yacht!"

+

+"Oh, yes, oh, yes!" says John of Skye.

+"They can do that ferry well."

+

+And then he paused—for he was great

+friends with this young lady, and did not like

+to disoblige her.

+

+"You will be having your dinner now.

+After the dinner, if Mr. Sutherland himself

+will be on deck, I will go below and turn in

+for a time."

+

+"Of course Dr. Sutherland will be on deck,"

+says the new captain, promptly; and she was so

+sure of one member of her crew that she added,

+"and he will not leave the tiller for a moment

+until you come to relieve him."

+

+Perhaps it was this promise—perhaps it was

+the wonderful beauty of the evening—that

+made us hurry over dinner.  Then we went

+on deck again; and our young Doctor, having

+got all his bearings and directions clear in his

+head, took the tiller, and John of Skye at length

+succumbed to the authority of Commander

+Avon and disappeared into the forecastle.

+

+The splendour of colour around us on that

+still evening!—away in the west the sea of

+a pale yellow green, with each ripple a flash

+of rose-flame, and over there in the south

+the great mountains of Skye—the Coolins,

+Blaven, and Ben-na-Cailleach—become of a

+plum-purple in the clear and cloudless sky.

+Angus Sutherland was at the tiller contemplatively

+smoking an almost black meerschaum;

+the Laird was discoursing to us about the

+extraordinary pith and conciseness of the Scotch

+phrases in the Northumbrian Psalter; while

+ever and anon a certain young lady, linked

+arm-in-arm with her friend, would break the

+silence with some aimless fragment of ballad

+or old-world air.

+

+And still we glided onwards in the beautiful

+evening; and now ahead of us in the dusk

+of the evening, the red star of Kyle Akin

+lighthouse steadily gleamed.  We might get

+to anchor, after all, without awaking John of

+Skye.

+

+"In weather like this," remarked our

+sovereign lady, "in the gathering darkness,

+John might keep asleep for fifty years."

+

+"Like Rip Van Winkle," said the Laird,

+proud of his erudition.  "That is a wonderful

+story that Washington Irving wrote—a verra

+fine story."

+

+"Washington Irving!—the story is as old

+as the Coolins," says Dr. Sutherland.

+

+The Laird stared as if he had been Rip Van

+Winkle himself: was he for ever to be

+checkmated by the encyclopædic knowledge of

+Young England—or Young Scotland rather—and

+that knowledge only the gatherings and

+sweepings of musty books that anybody with

+a parrot-like habit might acquire?

+

+"Why, surely you know that the legend

+belongs to that common stock of legends that

+go through all literatures?" says our young

+Doctor.  "I have no doubt the Hindoos have

+their Epimenides; and that Peter Klaus turns

+up somewhere or other in the Gaelic stories.

+However, that is of little importance; it is

+of importance that Captain John should get

+some sleep.  Hector, come here!"

+

+There was a brief consultation about the

+length of anchor-chain wanted for the little

+harbour opposite Kyle Akin; Hector's instructions

+were on no account to disturb John of

+Skye.  But no sooner had they set about

+getting the chain on deck than another figure

+appeared, black among the rigging; and there

+was a well-known voice heard forward.  Then

+Captain John came aft, and, despite all

+remonstrances, would relieve his substitute.  Rip

+Van Winkle's sleep had lasted about an hour

+and a half.

+

+And now we steal by the black shores; and

+that solitary red star comes nearer and nearer

+in the dusk; and at length we can make out

+two or three other paler lights close down by

+the water.  Behold! the yellow ports of a

+steam-yacht at anchor; we know, as our own

+anchor goes rattling out in the dark, that

+we shall have at least one neighbour and

+companion through the still watches of the

+night.

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`TEMPTATION`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER XV.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   TEMPTATION.

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+But the night, according to John of Skye's

+chronology, lasts only until the tide turns or

+until a breeze springs up.  Long before the

+wan glare in the east has arisen to touch the

+highest peaks of the Coolins, we hear the

+tread of the men on deck getting the yacht

+under way.  And then there is a shuffling

+noise in Angus Sutherland's cabin; and we

+guess that he is stealthily dressing in the

+dark.  Is he anxious to behold the wonders

+of daybreak in the beautiful Loch Alsh, or

+is he bound to take his share in the sailing

+of the ship?  Less perturbed spirits sink back

+again into sleep, and contentedly let the *White

+Dove* go on her own way through the expanding

+blue-grey light of the dawn.

+

+Hours afterwards there is a strident shouting

+down the companion-way; everybody is

+summoned on deck to watch the yacht shoot the

+Narrows of Kyle Rhea.  And the Laird is

+the first to express his surprise: are these the

+dreaded Narrows that have caused Captain

+John to start before daybreak so as to shoot

+them with the tide?  All around is a dream

+of summer beauty and quiet.  A more perfect

+picture of peace and loveliness could not be

+imagined than the green crags of the mainland,

+and the vast hills of Skye, and this placid

+channel between shining in the fair light of

+the morning.  The only thing we notice is

+that on the glassy green of the water—this

+reflected, deep, almost opaque green is not

+unlike the colour of Niagara below the

+Falls—there are smooth circular lines here and

+there; and now and again the bows of the

+*White Dove* slowly swerve away from her

+course as if in obedience to some unseen and

+mysterious pressure.  There is not a breath

+of wind; and it needs all the pulling of the

+two men out there in the dingay and all the

+watchful steering of Captain John to keep her

+head straight.  Then a light breeze comes

+along the great gully; the red-capped men

+are summoned on board; the dingay is left

+astern; the danger of being caught in an

+eddy and swirled ashore is over and gone.

+

+Suddenly the yacht stops as if she had run

+against a wall.  Then, just as she recovers,

+there is an extraordinary hissing and roaring

+in the dead silence around us, and close by

+the yacht we find a great circle of boiling

+and foaming water, forced up from below and

+overlapping itself in ever-increasing folds.  And

+then, on the perfectly glassy sea, another and

+another of those boiling and hissing circles

+appears, until there is a low rumbling in the

+summer air like the breaking of distant waves.

+And the yacht—the wind having again died

+down—is curiously compelled one way and then

+another, insomuch that John of Skye quickly

+orders the men out in the dingay again; and

+once more the long cable is tugging at her bows.

+

+"It seems to me," says Dr. Sutherland to our

+skipper, "that we are in the middle of about a

+thousand whirlpools."

+

+"Oh, it iss ferry quate this morning," says

+Captain John, with a shrewd smile.  "It iss not

+often so quate as this.  Ay, it iss sometimes

+ferry bad here—quite so bad as Corrievreckan;

+and when the flood-tide is rinnin, it will be

+rinnin like—shist like a race-horse."

+

+However, by dint of much hard pulling, and

+judicious steering, we manage to keep the

+*White Dove* pretty well in mid-current; and

+only once—and that but for a second or two—get

+caught in one of those eddies circling in to

+the shore.  We pass the white ferry-house; a

+slight breeze carries us by the green shores

+and woods of Glenelg; we open out the

+wider sea between Isle Ornsay and Loch

+Hourn; and then a silver tinkle tells us

+breakfast is ready.

+

+That long, beautiful, calm summer day:

+Ferdinand and Miranda playing draughts on

+deck—he having rigged up an umbrella to

+shelter her from the hot sun; the Laird busy

+with papers referring to the Strathgovan Public

+Park; the hostess of these people overhauling

+the stores and meditating on something recondite

+for dinner.  At last the Doctor fairly burst

+out a-laughing.

+

+"Well," said he, "I have been in many a

+yacht; but never yet in one where everybody

+on board was anxiously waiting for the glass

+to fall."

+

+His hostess laughed too.

+

+"When you come south again," she said,

+"we may be able to give you a touch of

+something different.  I think that, even with all

+your love of gales, a few days of the equinoctials

+would quite satisfy you."

+

+"The equinoctials!" he said, with a surprised look.

+

+"Yes," said she boldly.  "Why not have a

+good holiday while you are about it?  And a

+yachting trip is nothing without a fight with the

+equinoctials.  Oh, you have no idea how

+splendidly the *White Dove* behaves!"

+

+"I should like to try her," he said, with a

+quick delight; but directly afterwards he

+ruefully shook his head.  "No, no," said he, "such

+a tremendous spell of idleness is not for me.

+I have not earned the right to it yet.  Twenty

+years hence I may be able to have three months'

+continued yachting in the West Highlands."

+

+"If I were you," retorted this small person,

+with a practical air, "I would take it when I

+could get it.  What do you know about twenty

+years hence?—you may be physician to the

+Emperor of China.  And you have worked

+very hard; and you ought to take as long a

+holiday as you can get."

+

+"I am sure," says Mary Avon very timidly,

+"that is very wise advice."

+

+"In the meantime," says he, cheerfully, "I

+am not physician to the Emperor of China, but

+to the passengers and crew of the *White Dove*.

+The passengers don't do me the honour of

+consulting me; but I am going to prescribe for

+the crew on my own responsibility.  All I want

+is, that I shall have the assistance of Miss

+Avon in making them take the dose."

+

+Miss Avon looked up inquiringly with the

+soft black eyes of her.

+

+"Nobody has any control over them but

+herself—they are like refractory children.

+Now," said he, rather more seriously, "this

+night-and-day work is telling on the men.

+Another week of it and you would see *Insomnia*

+written in large letters on their eyes.  I want

+you, Miss Avon, to get Captain John and the

+men to have a complete night's rest to-night—a

+sound night's sleep from the time we finish

+dinner till daybreak.  We can take charge of the yacht."

+

+Miss Avon promptly rose to her feet.

+

+"John!" she called.

+

+The big brown-bearded skipper from Skye

+came aft—putting his pipe in his

+waistcoat-pocket the while.

+

+"John," she said, "I want you to do me a

+favour now.  You and the men have not been

+having enough sleep lately.  You must all go

+below to-night as soon as we come up from

+dinner; and you must have a good sleep till

+daybreak.  The gentlemen will take charge of

+the yacht."

+

+It was in vain that John of Skye protested

+he was not tired.  It was in vain that he

+assured her that, if a good breeze sprung up,

+we might get right back to Castle Osprey by

+the next morning.

+

+"Why, you know very well," she said, "this

+calm weather means to last for ever."

+

+"Oh, no!  I not think that, mem," said John

+of Skye, smiling.

+

+"At all events we shall be sailing all night;

+and that is what I want you to do, as a favour

+to me."

+

+Indeed, our skipper found it was of no use to

+refuse.  The young lady was peremptory.  And

+so, having settled that matter, she sate down to

+her draught-board again.

+

+But it was the Laird she was playing with

+now.  And this was a remarkable circumstance

+about the game: when Angus Sutherland

+played with Denny-mains, the latter was

+hopelessly and invariably beaten; and when

+Denny-mains in his turn played with Mary Avon, he

+was relentlessly and triumphantly the victor;

+but when Angus Sutherland played with

+Miss Avon, she, somehow or other, generally

+managed to secure two out of three games.  It

+was a puzzling triangular duel: the chief

+feature of it was the splendid joy of the Laird

+when he had conquered the English young

+lady.  He rubbed his hands, he chuckled, he

+laughed—just as if he had been repeating one

+of his own "good ones."

+

+However, at luncheon the Laird was much

+more serious; for he was showing to us how

+remiss the Government was in not taking up

+the great solan question.  He had a newspaper

+cutting which gave in figures—in rows of

+figures—the probable number of millions of

+herrings destroyed every year by the

+solan-geese.  The injuries done to the

+herring-fisheries of this country, he proved to us, was

+enormous.  If a solan is known to eat on an

+average fifty herrings a day, just think of the

+millions on millions of fish that must go to feed

+those nests on the Bass Rock!  The Laird

+waxed quite eloquent about it.  The human

+race were dearer to him far than any gannet or

+family of gannets.

+

+"What I wonder at is this," said our young

+Doctor with a curious grim smile, that we had

+learned to know, coming over his face, "that

+the solan, with that extraordinary supply of

+phosphorus to the brain, should have gone

+on remaining only a bird, and a very ordinary

+bird, too.  Its brain-power should have been

+developed; it should be able to speak by this

+time.  In fact, there ought to be solan

+schoolboards and parochial boards on the Bass

+Rock; and commissioners appointed to

+inquire whether the building of nests might

+not be conducted on more scientific principles.

+When I was a boy—I am sorry to say—I

+used often to catch a solan by floating out

+a piece of wood with a dead herring on it: a

+wise bird, with its brain full of phosphorus, ought

+to have known that it would break its head

+when it swooped down on a piece of wood."

+

+The Laird sate in dignified silence.  There

+was something occult and uncanny about many

+of this young man's sayings—they savoured

+too much of the dangerous and unsettling

+tendencies of these modern days.  Besides, he

+did not see what good could come of likening

+a lot of solan-geese to the Commissioners of

+the Burgh of Strathgovan.  His remarks on the

+herring-fisheries had been practical and

+intelligible; they had given no occasion for jibes.

+

+We were suddenly startled by the rattling

+out of the anchor-chain.  What could it

+mean?—were we caught in an eddy?  There was

+a scurrying up on deck, only to find that,

+having drifted so far south with the tide, and

+the tide beginning to turn, John of Skye

+proposed to secure what advantage we had gained

+by coming to anchor.  There was a sort of

+shamed laughter over this business.  Was the

+noble *White Dove* only a river barge, then, that

+she was thus dependent on the tides for her

+progress?  But it was no use either to laugh

+or to grumble; two of us proposed to row the

+Laird away to certain distant islands that lie

+off the shore north of the mouth of Loch

+Hourn; and for amusement's sake we took

+some towels with us.

+

+Look now how this long and shapely gig

+cuts the blue water.  The Laird is very

+dignified in the stern, with the tiller-ropes in

+his hand; he keeps a straight course

+enough—though he is mostly looking over the side.

+And, indeed, this is a perfect wonder-hall over

+which we are making our way—the water so

+clear that we notice the fish darting here and

+there among the great brown blades of the

+tangle and the long green sea-grass.  Then

+there are stretches of yellow sand, with shells

+and star-fish shining far below.  The sun

+burns on our hands; there is a dead

+stillness of heat; the measured splash of the

+oars startles the sea-birds in there among

+the rocks.

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Send the biorlinn on careering,

+   |  Cheerily and all together,

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |  A long, strong pull together!

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+

+Look out for the shallows, most dignified of

+coxswains: what if we were to imbed her

+bows in the silver sand?—

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  Another cheer!  Our isle appears—

+   |  Our biorlinn bears her on the faster!

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |  A long strong pull together!

+   |      Ho, ro, clansmen!

+   |

+

+"Hold hard!" calls Denny-mains; and

+behold! we are in among a network of channels

+and small islands lying out here in the calm

+sea; and the birds are wildly calling and

+screaming and swooping about our heads,

+indignant at the approach of strangers.  What

+is our first duty, then, in coming to these

+unknown islands and straits?—why, surely,

+to name them in the interests of civilisation.

+And we do so accordingly.  Here—let it be

+for ever known—is John Smith Bay.  There,

+Thorley's Food for Cattle Island.  Beyond

+that, on the south, Brown and Poison's Straits.

+It is quite true that these islands and bays

+may have been previously visited; but it was

+no doubt a long time ago; and the people

+did not stop to bestow names.  The latitude

+and longitude may be dealt with afterwards;

+meanwhile the discoverers unanimously resolve

+that the most beautiful of all the islands shall

+hereafter, through all time, be known as the

+Island of Mary Avon.

+

+It was on this island that the Laird achieved

+his memorable capture of a young sea-bird—a

+huge creature of unknown species that

+fluttered and scrambled over bush and over

+scaur, while Denny-mains, quite forgetting his

+dignity and the heat of the sun, clambered

+after it over the rocks.  And when he got

+it in his hands, it lay as one dead.  He was

+sorry.  He regarded the newly-fledged thing

+with compassion; and laid it tenderly down

+on the grass; and came away down again to

+the shore.  But he had scarcely turned his

+back when the demon bird got on its legs,

+and—with a succession of shrill and sarcastic

+"yawps"—was off and away over the higher

+ledges.  No fasting girl had ever shammed

+so completely as this scarcely-fledged bird.

+

+We bathed in Brown and Poison's Straits,

+to the great distress of certain sea-pyots that

+kept screaming over our heads, resenting the

+intrusion of the discoverers.  But in the midst

+of it, we were suddenly called to observe a

+strange darkness on the sea, far away in the

+north, between Glenelg and Skye.  Behold! the

+long-looked-for wind—a hurricane swooping

+down from the northern hills!  Our toilette

+on the hot rocks was of brief duration; we

+jumped into the gig; away we went through

+the glassy water!  It was a race between us

+and the northerly breeze which should reach

+the yacht first; and we could see that John

+of Skye had remarked the coming wind, for

+the men were hoisting the fore-staysail.  The

+dark blue on the water spreads; the reflections

+of the hills and the clouds gradually disappear;

+as we clamber on board the first puffs of the

+breeze are touching the great sails.  The

+anchor has just been got up; the gig is hoisted

+to the davits; slack out the main sheet, you

+shifty Hector, and let the great boom go out!

+Nor is it any mere squall that has come down

+from the hills; but a fine, steady, northerly

+breeze; and away we go with the white foam

+in our wake.  Farewell to the great mountains

+over the gloomy Loch Hourn; and to the

+lighthouse over there at Isle Ornsay; and to

+the giant shoulders of Ard-na-Glishnich.  Are

+not these the dark green woods of Armadale

+that we see in the west?  And southward,

+and still southward we go with the running

+seas and the fresh brisk breeze from the

+north: who knows where we may not be tonight

+before Angus Sutherland's watch begins?

+

+There is but one thoughtful face on board.

+It is that of Mary Avon.  For the moment, at

+least, she seems scarcely to rejoice that we have

+at last got this grateful wind to bear us away to

+the south and to Castle Osprey.

+

+

+

+

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. _`THROUGH THE DARK`:

+

+.. class:: center large bold

+

+   CHAPTER XVI.

+

+

+.. class:: center medium bold

+

+   THROUGH THE DARK.

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  *Ahead she goes! the land she knows!*

+

+.. vspace:: 2

+

+What though we see a sudden squall

+come tearing over from the shores of Skye,

+whitening the waves as it approaches us?  The

+*White Dove* is not afraid of any squall.  And

+there are the green woods of Armadale, dusky

+under the western glow; and here the sombre

+heights of Dun Bane; and soon we will open

+out the great gap of Loch Nevis.  We are

+running with the running waves; a general

+excitement prevails; even the Laird has

+dismissed for the moment certain dark suspicions

+about Frederick Smethurst that have for the

+last day or two been haunting his mind.

+

+And here is a fine sight!—the great steamer

+coming down from the north—and the sunset is

+burning on her red funnels—and behold! she

+has a line of flags from her stem to her

+top-masts and down to her stern again.  Who is

+on board?—some great laird, or some gay

+wedding-party?

+

+"Now is your chance, Angus," says Queen

+T., almost maliciously, as the steamer slowly

+gains on us.  "If you want to go on at once, I

+know the captain would stop for a minute and

+pick you up."

+

+He looked at her for a second in a quick,

+hurt way; then he saw that she was only

+laughing at him.

+

+"Oh, no, thank you," he said, blushing like a

+schoolboy; "unless you want to get rid of me.

+I have been looking forward to sailing the

+yacht to-night."

+

+"And—and you said," remarked Miss Avon,

+rather timidly, "that we should challenge them

+again after dinner this evening."

+

+This was a pretty combination: "we"

+referred to Angus Sutherland and herself.  Her

+elders were disrespectfully described as

+"them."  So the younger people had not forgotten how

+they were beaten by "them" on the previous

+evening.

+

+Is there a sound of pipes amid the throbbing

+of the paddles?  What a crowd of people

+swarm to the side of the great vessel!  And

+there is the captain on the paddle-box—out all

+handkerchiefs to return the innumerable

+salutations—and good-bye, you brave Glencoe!—you

+have no need to rob us of any one of our

+passengers.

+

+Where does the breeze come from on this

+still evening?—there is not a cloud in the sky,

+and there is a drowsy haze of heat all along the

+land.  But nevertheless it continues; and, as

+the *White Dove* cleaves her way through the

+tumbling sea, we gradually draw on to the

+Point of Sleat, and open out the great plain of

+the Atlantic, now a golden green, where the

+tops of the waves catch the light of the sunset

+skies.  And there, too, are our old friends

+Haleval and Haskeval; but they are so far

+away, and set amid such a bewildering light,

+that the whole island seems to be of a pale

+transparent rose-purple.  And a still stranger

+thing now attracts the eyes of all on board.

+The setting sun, as it nears the horizon-line of

+the sea, appears to be assuming a distinctly

+oblong shape.  It is slowly sinking into a

+purple haze, and becomes more and more oblong

+as it nears the sea.  There is a call for all the

+glasses hung up in the companion-way; and

+now what is it that we find out there by the aid

+of the various binoculars?  Why, apparently,

+a wall of purple; and there is an oblong hole

+in it, with a fire of gold light far away on the

+other side.  This apparent golden tunnel

+through the haze grows redder and more red;

+it becomes more and more elongated; then it

+burns a deeper crimson until it is almost a line.

+The next moment there is a sort of shock to

+the eyes; for there is a sudden darkness

+all along the horizon-line: the purple-black

+Atlantic is barred against that lurid haze low

+down in the west.

+

+It was a merry enough dinner-party: perhaps

+it was the consciousness that the *White

+Dove* was still bowling along that brightened

+up our spirits, and made the Laird of

+Denny-mains more particularly loquacious.  The

+number of good ones that he told us was quite

+remarkable—until his laughter might have

+been heard through the whole ship.  And to

+whom now did he devote the narration

+of those merry anecdotes—to whom but Miss

+Mary Avon, who was his ready chorus on all

+occasions, and who entered with a greater zest

+than any one into the humours of them.  Had

+she been studying the Lowland dialect, then,

+that she understood and laughed so lightly and

+joyously at stories about a thousand years

+of age?

+

+"Oh, ay," the Laird was saying patronisingly

+to her, "I see ye can enter into the peculiar

+humour of our Scotch stories; it is not every

+English person that can do that.  And ye

+understand the language fine....  Well," he

+added, with an air of modest apology, "perhaps

+I do not give the pronunciation as broad as I

+might.  I have got out of the way of talking

+the provincial Scotch since I was a

+boy—indeed, ah'm generally taken for an Englishman

+maself—but I do my best to give ye the speerit

+of it."

+

+"Oh, I am sure your imitation of the

+provincial Scotch is most excellent—most

+excellent—and it adds so much to the humour of the

+stories," says this disgraceful young hypocrite.

+

+"Oh, ay, oh, ay," says the Laird, greatly

+delighted.  "I will admit that some o' the

+stories would not have so much humour but for

+the language.  But when ye have both!  Did

+ye ever hear of the laddie who was called in to

+his porridge by his mother?"

+

+We perceived by the twinkle in the Laird's

+eyes that a real good one was coming.  He

+looked round to see that we were listening, but

+it was Mary Avon whom he addressed.

+

+"A grumbling bit laddie—a philosopher,

+too," said he.  "His mother thought he would

+come in the quicker if he knew there was a fly

+in the milk.  '*Johnny*,' she cried out, '*Johnny,

+come in to your parritch; there's a flee in the

+milk.*'  '*It'll no droon,*' says he.  '*What!*' she

+says, '*grumblin again?  Do ye think there's no

+enough milk?'  'Plenty for the parritch*,' says

+he—*kee! kee! kee!*—sharp, eh, wasn't eh?—'*Plenty

+for the parritch*,' says he—ha! ha! ho! ho! ho!"—and

+the Laird slapped his thigh,

+and chuckled to himself.  "Oh, ay, Miss Mary,"

+he added, approvingly, "I see you are beginning

+to understand the Scotch humour fine."

+

+And if our good friend the Laird had been

+but twenty years younger—with his battery of

+irresistible jokes, and his great and obvious

+affection for this stray guest of ours, to say

+nothing of his dignity and importance as a

+Commissioner of Strathgovan?  What chance

+would a poor Scotch student have had, with his

+test-tubes and his scientific magazines, his

+restless, audacious speculations and eager

+ambitions?  On the one side, wealth, ease, a pleasant

+facetiousness, and a comfortable acceptance of

+the obvious facts of the universe—including

+water-rates and steam fire-engines; on the

+other, poverty, unrest, the physical struggle

+for existence, the mental struggle with the

+mysteries of life: who could doubt what the

+choice would be?  However, there was no

+thought of this rivalry now.  The Laird had

+abdicated in favour of his nephew, Howard,

+about whom he had been speaking a good deal

+to Mary Avon of late.  And Angus—though

+he was always very kind and timidly attentive

+to Miss Avon—seemed nevertheless at times

+almost a little afraid of her; or perhaps it was

+only a vein of shyness that cropped up from

+time to time through his hard mental

+characteristics.  In any case, he was at this moment

+neither the shy lover nor the eager student; he

+was full of the prospect of having sole command

+of the ship during a long night on the Atlantic,

+and he hurried us up on deck after dinner

+without a word about that return-battle at bezique.

+

+The night had come on apace, though there

+was still a ruddy mist about the northern skies,

+behind the dusky purple of the Coolin hills.

+The stars were out overhead; the air around

+us was full of the soft cries of the divers;

+occasionally, amid the lapping of the water, we

+could hear some whirring by of wings.  Then

+the red port light and the green starboard light

+were brought up from the forecastle, and fixed

+in their place; the men went below; Angus

+Sutherland took the tiller; the Laird kept

+walking backwards and forwards as a sort of

+look-out; and the two women were as usual

+seated on rugs together in some invisible

+corner—crooning snatches of ballads, or making

+impertinent remarks about people much wiser

+and older than themselves.

+

+"Now, Angus," says the voice of one of

+them—apparently from somewhere about the

+companion, "show us that you can sail the

+yacht properly, and we will give you complete

+command during the equinoctials."

+

+"You speak of the equinoctials," said he,

+laughing, "as if it was quite settled I should be

+here in September."

+

+"Why not?" said she, promptly.  "Mary is

+my witness you promised.  You wouldn't go

+and desert two poor lone women?"

+

+"But I have got that most uncomfortable

+thing, a conscience," he answered; "and I

+know it would stare at me as if I were mad if I

+proposed to spend such a long time in idleness.

+It would be outraging all my theories, besides.

+You know, for years and years back I have

+been limiting myself in every way—living, for

+example, on the smallest allowance of food and

+drink, and that of the simplest and cheapest—so

+that if any need arose, I should have no

+luxurious habits to abandon——"

+

+"But what possible need can there be?" said

+Mary Avon, warmly.

+

+"Do you expect to spend your life in a jail?"

+said the other woman.

+

+"No," said he, quite simply.  "But I will

+give you an instance of what a man who

+devotes himself to his profession may have to

+do.  A friend of mine, who is one of the highest

+living authorities on *Materia Medica*, refused

+all invitations for three months, and during the

+whole of that time lived each day on precisely

+the same food and drink, weighed out in exact

+quantities, so as to determine the effect of

+particular drugs on himself.  Well, you know,

+you should be ready to do that——"

+

+"Oh, how wrong you are!" says Mary Avon,

+with the same impetuosity.  "A man who

+works as hard as you do should not sacrifice

+yourself to a theory.  And what is it?  It is

+quite foolish!"

+

+"Mary!" her friend says.

+

+"It is," she says, with generous warmth.  "It

+is like a man who goes through life with a

+coffin on his back, so that he may be ready for

+death.  Don't you think that when death

+comes it will be time enough to be getting the coffin?"

+

+This was a poser.

+

+"You know quite well," she says, "that when

+the real occasion offered, like the one you

+describe, you could deny yourself any luxuries

+readily enough; why should you do so now?"

+

+At this there was a gentle sound of laughter.

+

+"Luxuries—the luxuries of the *White

+Dove*!" says her hostess, mindful of tinned

+meats.

+

+"Yes, indeed," says our young Doctor,

+though he is laughing too.  "There is far too

+much luxury—the luxury of idleness—on board

+this yacht to be wholesome for one like me."

+

+"Perhaps you object to the effeminacy of the

+downy couches and the feather pillows," says

+his hostess, who is always grumbling about the

+hardness of the beds.

+

+But it appears that she has made an exceedingly

+bad shot.  The man at the wheel—one

+can just make out his dark figure against the

+clear starlit heavens, though occasionally he

+gets before the yellow light of the binnacle—proceeds

+to assure her that, of all the luxuries

+of civilisation, he appreciates most a horse-hair

+pillow; and that he attributes his sound sleeping

+on board the yacht to the hardness of the

+beds.  He would rather lay his head on a

+brick, he says, for a night's rest than sink it in

+the softest feathers.

+

+"Do you wonder," he says, "that Jacob

+dreamed of angels when he had a stone for his

+pillow?  I don't.  If I wanted to have a

+pleasant sleep and fine dreams that is the sort of

+pillow I should have."

+

+Some phrase of this catches the ear of our

+look-out forward; he instantly comes aft.

+

+"Yes, it is a singular piece of testimony," he

+says.  "There is no doubt of it; I have myself

+seen the very place."

+

+We were not startled; we knew that the

+Laird, under the guidance of a well-known

+Free Church minister, had made a run through

+Palestine.

+

+"Ay," said he, "the further I went away

+from my own country the more I saw nothing

+but decadence and meesery.  The poor

+craytures!—living among ruins, and tombs, and

+decay, without a trace of public spirit or private

+energy.  The disregard of sanitary laws was

+something terrible to look at—as bad as their

+universal beggary.  That is what comes of

+centralisation, of suppressing local government.

+Would ye believe that there are a lot of silly

+bodies actually working to get our Burgh of

+Strathgovan annexed to Glasgow—swallowed

+up in Glasgow!"

+

+"Impossible!" we exclaim.

+

+"I tell ye it is true.  But no, no!  We are

+not ripe yet for those Radical measures.  We

+are constituted under an Act of Parliament.

+Before the House of Commons would dare to

+annex the free and flourishing Burgh of Strathgovan

+to Glasgow, I'm thinking the country far

+and near would hear something of it!"

+

+Yes; and we think so, too.  And we think

+it would be better if the hamlets and towns of

+Palestine were governed by men of public

+spirit like the Commissioners of Strathgovan;

+then they would be properly looked after.  Is

+there a single steam fire-engine in Jericho?

+

+However, it is late; and presently the

+women say good-night and retire.  And the

+Laird is persuaded to go below with them also;

+for how otherwise could he have his final glass

+of toddy in the saloon?  There are but two of

+us left on deck, in the darkness, under the stars.

+

+It is a beautiful night, with those white and

+quivering points overhead, and the other white

+and burning points gleaming on the black

+waves that whirl by the yacht.  Beyond the

+heaving plain of waters there is nothing visible

+but the dusky gloom of the Island of Eigg, and

+away in the south the golden eye of Ardnamurchan

+lighthouse, for which we are steering.

+Then the intense silence—broken only when

+the wind, changing a little, gybes the sails and

+sends the great boom swinging over on to the

+lee tackle.  It is so still that we are startled by

+the sudden noise of the blowing of a whale;

+and it sounds quite close to the yacht, though

+it is more likely that the animal is miles away.

+

+"She is a wonderful creature—she is indeed,"

+says the man at the wheel; as if every one

+must necessarily be thinking about the same

+person.

+

+"Who?"

+

+"Your young English friend.  Every minute

+of her life seems to be an enjoyment to her;

+she sings just as a bird sings, for her own

+amusement, and without thinking."

+

+"She can think, too; she is not a fool."

+

+"Though she does not look very strong,"

+continues the young Doctor, "she must have

+a thoroughly healthy constitution, or how could

+she have such a happy disposition?  She is

+always contented; she is never put out.  If

+you had only seen her patience and cheerfulness

+when she was attending that old woman—many

+a time I regretted it—the case was

+hopeless—a hired nurse would have done

+as well."

+

+"Hiring a nurse might not have satisfied

+the young lady's notions of duty."

+

+"Well, I've seen women in sick-rooms, but

+never any one like her," said he, and then he

+added, with a sort of emphatic wonder, "I'm

+hanged if she did not seem to enjoy that, too!

+Then you never saw any one so particular

+about following out instructions."

+

+It is here suggested to our steersman that

+he himself may be a little too particular about

+following out instructions.  For John of Skye's

+last counsel was to keep Ardnamurchan light

+on our port bow.  That was all very well when

+we were off the north of Eigg; but is

+Dr. Sutherland aware that the south point of

+Eigg—Eilean-na-Castle—juts pretty far out; and is

+not that black line of land coming uncommonly

+close on our starboard bow?  With some

+reluctance our new skipper consents to alter his

+course by a couple of points; and we bear

+away down for Ardnamurchan.

+

+And of what did he not talk during the long

+starlit night—the person who ought to have

+been lookout sitting contentedly aft, a mute

+listener?—of the strange fears that must have

+beset the people who first adventured out to sea;

+of the vast expenditure of human life that must

+have been thrown away in the discovery of

+the most common facts about currents and

+tides and rocks; and so forth, and so forth.

+But ever and again his talk returned to

+Mary Avon.

+

+"What does the Laird mean by his

+suspicions about her uncle?" he asked on one

+occasion—just as we had been watching a

+blue-white bolt flash down through the serene

+heavens and expire in mid-air.

+

+"Mr. Frederick Smethurst has an ugly face."

+

+"But what does he mean about those relations

+between the man with the ugly face and

+his niece?"

+

+"That is idle speculation.  Frederick

+Smethurst was her trustee, and might have done her

+some mischief—that is, if he is an out-and-out

+scoundrel; but that is all over.  Mary is

+mistress of her own property now."

+

+Here the boom came slowly swinging over;

+and presently there were all the sheets of the

+head-sails to be looked after—tedious work

+enough for amateurs in the darkness of the

+night.

+

+Then further silence; and the monotonous

+rush and murmur of the unseen sea; and the

+dark topmast describing circles among the stars.

+We get up one of the glasses to make astronomical

+observations, but the heaving of the boat

+somewhat interferes with this quest after

+knowledge.  Whoever wants to have a good idea of

+forked lightning has only to take up a binocular

+on board a pitching yacht, and try to fix it on

+a particular planet.

+

+The calm, solemn night passes slowly; the

+red and green lights shine on the black

+rigging; afar in the south burns the guiding star

+of Ardnamurchan.  And we have drawn away

+from Eigg now, and passed the open sound;

+and there, beyond the murmuring sea, is the

+doom of the Island of Muick.  All the people

+below are wrapped in slumber; the cabins are

+dark; there is only a solitary candle burning in

+the saloon.  It is a strange thing to be

+responsible for the lives of those sleeping

+folk—out here on the lone Atlantic, in the stillness

+of the night.

+

+Our young Doctor bears his responsibility

+lightly.  He has—for a wonder—laid aside his

+pipe; and he is humming a song that he has

+heard Mary Avon singing of late—something

+about

+

+   |  O think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa',

+   |  For I'll come and see ye in spite o' them a',

+

+and he is wishing the breeze would blow a bit

+harder—and wondering whether the wind will

+die away altogether when we get under the lee

+of Ardnamurchan Point.

+

+But long before we have got down to Ardnamurchan,

+there is a pale grey light beginning to

+tell in the eastern skies; and the stars are

+growing fainter; and the black line of the land

+is growing clearer above the wrestling seas.  Is

+it a fancy that the first light airs of the morning

+are a trifle cold?  And then we suddenly see,

+among the dark rigging forward, one or two

+black figures; and presently John of Skye

+comes aft, rubbing his eyes.  He has had a

+good sleep at last.

+

+Go below, then, you stout-sinewed young

+Doctor; you have had your desire of sailing the

+*White Dove* through the still watches of the

+night.  And soon you will be asleep, with your

+head on the hard pillow of that little state-room

+and though the pillow is not as hard as a stone,

+still the night and the sea and the stars are

+quickening to the brain; and who knows that

+you may not perchance after all dream of

+angels, or hear some faint singing far away?

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center white-space-pre-line

+

+   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: italics

+

+   |  There was Mary Beaton—and Mary Seaton——

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+.. class:: center white-space-pre-line

+

+   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

+

+.. vspace:: 1

+

+Or is it only a sound of the waves?

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. class:: center

+

+   END OF VOL. I.

+

+.. vspace:: 4

+

+.. class:: center small

+

+   LONDON: R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, BREAD STREET HILL.

+

+.. vspace:: 6

+

+.. pgfooter::

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+                         WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I
+
+
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost
+no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
+under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
+eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+
+Title: White Wings, Volume I
+       A Yachting Romance
+Author: William Black
+Release Date: September 27, 2013 [EBook #43828]
+Language: English
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I (OF 3)
+***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+                              WHITE WINGS:
+
+                          A Yachting Romance.
+
+
+                                   BY
+
+                             WILLIAM BLACK,
+
+            AUTHOR OF "THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PHAETON,"
+                 "GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY," ETC.
+
+
+
+                          _IN THREE VOLUMES._
+
+                                VOL. I.
+
+
+
+                                London:
+                           MACMILLAN AND CO.
+                                 1880.
+
+        _The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved._
+
+
+
+
+                                LONDON:
+                       R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR,
+                           BREAD STREET HILL.
+
+
+
+
+                                 TO OUR
+
+                             *QUEEN MABS,*
+
+               IN MEMORY OF HER FIRST CRUISE ON BOARD ANY
+             YACHT, THIS RECORD OF OUR LONG SUMMER IDLENESS
+             IN 1878 IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY HER
+                      OBLIGED AND HUMBLE SERVANT,
+
+                             _THE AUTHOR._
+
+                         BRIGHTON, _June_ 1880.
+
+
+
+
+                              *CONTENTS.*
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I.
+
+ON THE QUAY
+
+                              CHAPTER II.
+
+MARY AVON
+
+                              CHAPTER III.
+
+UNDER WAY
+
+                              CHAPTER IV.
+
+A MESSAGE
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+
+A BRAVE CAREER
+
+                              CHAPTER VI.
+
+OUR NEW GUESTS
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+
+NORTHWARD
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII.
+
+PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS
+
+                              CHAPTER IX.
+
+A WILD STUDIO
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+
+"DUNVEGAN!--OH!  DUNVEGAN!"
+
+                              CHAPTER XI.
+
+DRAWING NEARER
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII.
+
+FERDINAND AND MIRANDA
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+
+EVIL TIDINGS
+
+                              CHAPTER XV.
+
+TEMPTATION
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THROUGH THE DARK
+
+
+
+
+                             *WHITE WINGS:*
+
+                         *A Yachting Romance.*
+
+
+
+                              *CHAPTER I.*
+
+                             *ON THE QUAY.*
+
+
+A murmur runs through the crowd; the various idlers grow alert; all eyes
+are suddenly turned to the south.  And there, far away over the green
+headland, a small tuft of brown smoke appears, rising into the golden
+glow of the afternoon, and we know that by and by we shall see the great
+steamer with her scarlet funnels come sailing round the point.  The
+Laird of Denny-mains assumes an air of still further importance; he
+pulls his frock-coat tight at the waist; he adjusts his black satin
+necktie; his tall, white, stiff collar seems more rigid and white than
+ever.  He has heard of the wonderful stranger; and he knows that now she
+is drawing near.
+
+Heard of her?  He has heard of nothing else since ever he came to us in
+these northern wilds.  For the mistress of this household--with all her
+domineering ways and her fits of majestic temper--has a love for her
+intimate girl-friends far passing the love of men; especially when the
+young ladies are obedient, and gentle, and ready to pay to her matronly
+dignity the compliment of a respectful awe. And this particular friend
+who is now coming to us: what has not the Laird heard about her during
+these past few days?--of her high courage, her resolute unselfishness,
+her splendid cheerfulness?  "A singing-bird in the house," that was one
+of the phrases used, "in wet weather or fine."  And then the
+enthusiastic friend muddled her metaphors somehow, and gave the puzzled
+Laird to understand that the presence of this young lady in a house was
+like having sweet-brier about the rooms.  No wonder he put on his
+highest and stiffest collar before he marched grandly down with us to
+the quay.
+
+"And does she not deserve a long holiday sir?" says the Laird's hostess
+to him, as together they watch for the steamer coming round the point.
+"Just fancy!  Two months' attendance on that old woman, who was her
+mother's nurse.  Two months in a sick-room, without a soul to break the
+monotony of it. And the girl living in a strange town all by herself!"
+
+"Ay; and in such a town as Edinburgh," remarks the Laird, with great
+compassion. His own property lies just outside Glasgow.
+
+"Dear me," says he, "what must a young English leddy have thought of our
+Scotch way of speech when she heard they poor Edinburgh bodies and their
+yaumering sing-song?  Not that I quarrel with any people for having an
+accent in their way of speaking; they have that in all parts of England
+as well as in Scotland--in Yorkshire, and Somersetshire, and what not;
+and even in London itself there is a way of speech that is quite
+recognisable to a stranger.  But I have often thought that there was
+less trace of accent about Glesca and the west of Scotland than in any
+other part; in fact, ah have often been taken for an Englishman maself."
+
+"Indeed!" says this gentle creature standing by him; and her upturned
+eyes are full of an innocent belief.  You would swear she was meditating
+on summoning instantly her boys from Epsom College that they might
+acquire a pure accent--or get rid of all accent--on the banks of the
+Clyde.
+
+"Yes," say the Laird, with a decision almost amounting to enthusiasm,
+"it is a grand inheritance that we in the south of Scotland are
+preserving for you English people; and you know little of it.  You do
+not know that we are preserving the English language for you as it was
+spoken centuries ago, and as you find it in your oldest writings.
+Scotticisms! Why, if ye were to read the prose of Mandeville or Wyclif,
+or the poetry of Robert of Brunne or Langdale, ye would find that our
+Scotticisms were the very pith and marrow of the English language.  Ay;
+it is so."
+
+The innocent eyes express such profound interest that the Laird of
+Denny-mains almost forgets about the coming steamer, so anxious is he to
+crush us with a display of his erudition.
+
+"It is just remarkable," he says, "that your dictionaries should put
+down, as obsolete, words that are in common use all over the south of
+Scotland, where, as I say, the old Northumbrian English is preserved in
+its purity; and that ye should have learned people hunting up in Chaucer
+or Gower for the very speech that they might hear among the bits o'
+weans running about the Gallowgate or the Broomielaw.  '_Wha's acht
+ye?_' you say to one of them; and you think you are talking Scotch. No,
+no; _acht_ is only the old English for possession: isn't '_Wha's acht
+ye?_' shorter and pithier than '_To whom do you belong?_'
+
+"Oh, certainly!" says the meek disciple: the recall of the boys from
+Surrey is obviously decided on.
+
+"And _speir_ for _inquire_; and _ferly_ for _wonderful_; and _tyne_ for
+_lose_; and _fey_ for _about to die_; and _reek_ for _smoke_; and
+_menseful_ for _becoming_; and _belyve_, and _fere_, and _biggan_, and
+such words.  Ye call them Scotch?  Oh, no, ma'am; they are English; ye
+find them in all the old English writers; and they are the best of
+English too; a great deal better than the Frenchified stuff that your
+southern English has become."
+
+Not for worlds would the Laird have wounded the patriotic sensitiveness
+of this gentle friend of his from the South; but indeed, she had surely
+nothing to complain of in his insisting to an Englishwoman on the value
+of thorough English?
+
+"I thought," says she, demurely, "that the Scotch had a good many French
+words in it."
+
+The Laird pretends not to hear: he is so deeply interested in the
+steamer which is now coming over the smooth waters of the bay. But,
+having announced that there are a great many people on board, he returns
+to his discourse.
+
+"Ah'm sure of this, too," says he, "that in the matter of pronunciation
+the Lowland Scotch have preserved the best English--you can see that
+_faither_, and _twelmonth_, and _twa_, and such words are nearer the
+original Anglo-Saxon----"
+
+His hearers had been taught to shudder at the phrase
+Anglo-Saxon--without exactly knowing why.  But who could withstand the
+authority of the Laird?  Moreover, we see relief drawing near; the
+steamer's paddles are throbbing in the still afternoon.
+
+"If ye turn to _Piers the Plowman_," continues the indefatigable
+Denny-mains, "ye will find Langdale writing--
+
+    And a fewe Cruddes and Crayme.
+
+Why, it is the familiar phrase of our Scotch children!--Do ye think they
+would say _curds_? And then, _fewe_.  I am not sure, but I imagine we
+Scotch are only making use of old English when we make certain forms of
+food plural. We say 'a few broth;' we speak of porridge as 'they.'
+Perhaps that is a survival, too, eh?"
+
+"Oh, yes, certainly.  But please mind the ropes, sir," observes his
+humble pupil, careful of her master's physical safety.  For at this
+moment the steamer is slowing into the quay; and the men have the ropes
+ready to fling ashore.
+
+"Not," remarks the Laird, prudently backing away from the edge of the
+pier, "that I would say anything of these matters to your young English
+friend; certainly not.  No doubt she prefers the southern English she
+has been accustomed to.  But, bless me! just to think that she should
+judge of our Scotch tongue by the way they Edinburgh bodies speak!"
+
+"It is sad, is it not?" remarks his companion--but all her attention is
+now fixed on the crowd of people swarming to the side of the steamer.
+
+"And, indeed," the Laird explains, to close the subject, "it is only a
+hobby of mine--only a hobby.  Ye may have noticed that I do not use
+those words in my own speech, though I value them.  No, I will not force
+any Scotch on the young leddy.  As ah say, ah have often been taken for
+an Englishman maself, both at home and abroad."
+
+And now--and now--the great steamer is in at the quay; the gangways are
+run over; there is a thronging up the paddle-boxes; and eager faces on
+shore scan equally eager faces on board--each pair of eyes looking for
+that other pair of eyes to flash a glad recognition. And where is
+she--the flower of womankind--the possessor of all virtue and grace and
+courage--the wonder of the world?  The Laird shares in our excitement.
+He, too, scans the crowd eagerly.  He submits to be hustled by the
+porters; he hears nothing of the roaring of the steam; for is she not
+coming ashore at last?  And we know--or guess--that he is looking out
+for some splendid creature--some Boadicea, with stately tread and
+imperious mien--some Jephtha's daughter, with proud death in her
+eyes--some Rosamond of our modern days, with a glory of loveliness on
+her face and hair.  And we know that the master who has been lecturing
+us for half-an-hour on our disgraceful neglect of pure English will not
+shock the sensitive Southern ear by any harsh accent of the North; but
+will address her in beautiful and courtly strains, in tones such as
+Edinburgh never knew.  Where is the queen of womankind, amid all this
+commonplace, hurrying, loquacious crowd?
+
+Forthwith the Laird, with a quick amazement in his eyes, sees a small
+and insignificant person--he only catches a glimpse of a black dress and
+a white face--suddenly clasped round in the warm embrace of her friend.
+He stares for a second; and then he exclaims--apparently to himself:--
+
+"Dear me!  What a shilpit bit thing!"
+
+_Pale--slight--delicate--tiny_: surely such a master of idiomatic
+English cannot have forgotten the existence of these words.  But this is
+all he cries to himself, in his surprise and wonder:--
+
+"Dear me!  What a shilpit bit thing!"
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER II.*
+
+                              *MARY AVON.*
+
+
+The bright, frank laugh of her face!--the friendly, unhesitating,
+affectionate look in those soft black eyes!  He forgot all about
+Rosamond and Boadicea when he was presented to this "shilpit" person.
+And when, instead of the usual ceremony of introduction, she bravely put
+her hand in his, and said she had often heard of him from their common
+friend, he did not notice that she was rather plain.  He did not even
+stop to consider in what degree her Southern accent might be improved by
+residence amongst the preservers of pure English.  He was anxious to
+know if she was not greatly tired.  He hoped the sea had been smooth as
+the steamer came past Easdale.  And her luggage--should he look after
+her luggage for her?
+
+But Miss Avon was an expert traveller, and quite competent to look after
+her own luggage. Even as he spoke, it was being hoisted on to the
+waggonette.
+
+"You will let me drive?" says she, eying critically the two shaggy,
+farm-looking animals.
+
+"Indeed I shall do nothing of the kind," says her hostess, promptly.
+
+But there was no disappointment at all on her face as we drove away
+through the golden evening--by the side of the murmuring shore, past the
+overhanging fir-wood, up and across the high land commanding a view of
+the wide western seas.  There was instead a look of such intense delight
+that we knew, however silent the lips might be, that the bird-soul was
+singing within.  Everything charmed her--the cool, sweet air, the scent
+of the sea-weed, the glow on the mountains out there in the west.  And
+as she chattered her delight to us--like a bird escaped from its prison
+and glad to get into the sunlight and free air again--the Laird sate
+mute and listened.  He watched the frank, bright, expressive face. He
+followed and responded to her every mood--with a sort of fond paternal
+indulgence that almost prompted him to take her hand.  When she smiled,
+he laughed.  When she talked seriously, he looked concerned.  He was
+entirely forgetting that she was a "shilpit bit thing;" and he would
+have admitted that the Southern way of speaking English--although, no
+doubt, fallen away from the traditions of the Northumbrian dialect--had,
+after all, a certain music in it that made it pleasant to the ear.
+
+Up the hill, then, with a flourish for the last!--the dust rolling away
+in clouds behind us--the view over the Atlantic widening as we ascend.
+And here is Castle Osprey, as we have dubbed the place, with its wide
+open door, and its walls half hidden with tree-fuchsias, and its great
+rose-garden.  Had Fair Rosamond herself come to Castle Osprey that
+evening, she could not have been waited on with greater solicitude than
+the Laird showed in assisting this "shilpit bit thing" to
+alight--though, indeed there was a slight stumble, of which no one took
+any notice at the time. He busied himself with her luggage quite
+unnecessarily.  He suggested a cup of tea, though it wanted but fifteen
+minutes to dinner-time.  He assured her that the glass was rising--which
+was not the case.  And when she was being hurried off to her own room to
+prepare for dinner--by one who rules her household with a rod of
+iron--he had the effrontery to tell her to take her own time: dinner
+could wait.  The man actually proposed to keep dinner waiting--in Castle
+Osprey.
+
+That this was love at first sight, who could doubt?  And perhaps the
+nimble brain of one who was at this moment hurriedly dressing in her own
+room--and whom nature has constituted an indefatigable matchmaker--may
+have been considering whether this rich old bachelor might not marry,
+after all.  And if he were to marry, why should not he marry the young
+lady in whom he seemed to have taken so sudden and warm an interest?  As
+for her: Mary Avon was now two or three-and-twenty; she was not likely
+to prove attractive to young men; her small fortune was scarcely worth
+considering; she was almost alone in the world.  Older men had married
+younger women.  The Laird had no immediate relative to inherit
+Denny-mains and his very substantial fortune.  And would they not see
+plenty of each other on board the yacht?
+
+But in her heart of hearts the schemer knew better.  She knew that the
+romance-chapter in the Laird's life--and a bitter chapter it was--had
+been finished and closed and put away many and many a year ago.  She
+knew how the great disappointment of his life had failed to sour him;
+how he was ready to share among friends and companions the large and
+generous heart that had been for a time laid at the feet of a jilt; how
+his keen and active interest, that might have been confined to his
+children and his children's children, was now devoted to a hundred
+things--the planting at Denny-mains, the great heresy case, the
+patronage of young artists, even the preservation of pure English, and
+what not.  And that fortunate young gentleman--ostensibly his
+nephew--whom he had sent to Harrow and to Cambridge, who was now living
+a very easy life in the Middle Temple, and who would no doubt come in
+for Denny-mains?  Well, we knew a little about that young man, too.  We
+knew why the Laird, when he found that both the boy's father and mother
+were dead, adopted him, and educated him, and got him to call him uncle.
+He had taken under his care the son of the woman who had jilted him
+five-and-thirty years ago; the lad had his mother's eyes.
+
+And now we are assembled in the drawing-room--all except the new guest;
+and the glow of the sunset is shining in at the open windows. The Laird
+is eagerly proving to us that the change from the cold east winds of
+Edinburgh to the warm westerly winds of the Highlands must make an
+immediate change in the young lady's face--and declaring that she ought
+to go on board the yacht at once---and asserting that the ladies' cabin
+on board the _White Dove_ is the most beautiful little cabin he ever
+saw--when----
+
+When, behold! at the open door--meeting the glow of the
+sunshine--appears a figure--dressed all in black velvet, plain and
+unadorned but for a broad belt of gold fringe that comes round the neck
+and crosses the bosom.  And above that again is a lot of white muslin
+stuff, on which the small, shapely, smooth-dressed head seems gently to
+rest.  The plain black velvet dress gives a certain importance and
+substantiality to the otherwise slight figure; the broad fringe of gold
+glints and gleams as she moves towards us; but who can even think of
+these things when he meets the brave glance of Mary Avon's eyes?  She
+was humming, as she came down the stair--
+
+_O think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa;_
+_For I'll come and see ye, in spite o' them a',_
+
+--we might have known it was the bird-soul come among us.
+
+Now the manner in which the Laird of Denny-mains set about capturing the
+affections of this innocent young thing--as he sate opposite her at
+dinner--would have merited severe reproof in one of less mature age; and
+might, indeed, have been followed by serious consequences but for the
+very decided manner in which Miss Avon showed that she could take care
+of herself.  Whoever heard Mary Avon laugh would have been assured.  And
+she did laugh a good deal; for the Laird, determined to amuse her, was
+relating a series of anecdotes which he called "good ones," and which
+seemed to have afforded great enjoyment to the people of the south of
+Scotland during the last century or so.  There was in especial a
+Highland steward of a steamer about whom a vast number of these stories
+was told; and if the point was at times rather difficult to catch, who
+could fail to be tickled by the Laird's own and obvious enjoyment?
+"There was another good one, Miss Avon," he would say; and then the bare
+memory of the great facetiousness of the anecdote would break out in
+such half-suppressed guffaws as altogether to stop the current of the
+narrative.  Miss Avon laughed--we could not quite tell whether it was at
+the Highland steward or the Laird--until the tears ran down her checks.
+Dinner was scarcely thought of.  It was a disgraceful exhibition.
+
+"There was another good one about Homesh," said the Laird, vainly
+endeavouring to suppress his laughter.  "He came up on deck one
+enormously hot day, and looked ashore, and saw some cattle standing
+knee-deep in a pool of water.  Says he--ha! ha! ha!--ho! ho! ho!--says
+he---says he--'_A wish a wass a stot!_'--he! he! he!--ho! ho! ho!"
+
+Of course we all laughed heartily, and Mary Avon more than any of us;
+but if she had gone down on her knees and sworn that she knew what the
+point of the story was, we should not have believed her.  But the Laird
+was delighted.  He went on with his good ones.  The mythical Homesh and
+his idiotic adventures became portentous.  The very servants could
+scarcely carry the dishes straight.
+
+But in the midst of it all the Laird suddenly let his knife and fork
+drop on his plate, and stared.  Then he quickly exclaimed--
+
+"Bless me! lassie!"
+
+We saw in a second what had occasioned his alarm.  The girl's face had
+become ghastly white; and she was almost falling away from her chair
+when her hostess, who happened to spring to her feet first, caught her,
+and held her, and called for water.  What could it mean?  Mary Avon was
+not of the sighing and fainting fraternity.
+
+And presently she came to herself--and faintly making apologies, would
+go from the room.  It was her ankle, she murmured--with the face still
+white from pain.  But when she tried to rise, she fell back again: the
+agony was too great.  And so we had to carry her.
+
+About ten minutes thereafter the mistress of the house came back to the
+Laird, who had been sitting by himself, in great concern.
+
+"That girl! that girl!" she exclaims--and one might almost imagine there
+are tears in her eyes.  "Can you fancy such a thing!  She twists her
+ankle in getting down from the waggonette--brings back the old
+sprain--perhaps lames herself for life--and, in spite of the pain, sits
+here laughing and joking, so that she may not spoil our first evening
+together! Did you ever hear of such a thing!  Sitting here laughing,
+with her ankle swelled so that I had to cut the boot off!"
+
+"Gracious me!" says the Laird; "is it as bad as that?"
+
+"And if she should become permanently lame--why--why----"
+
+But was she going to make an appeal direct to the owner of Denny-mains?
+If the younger men were not likely to marry a lame little white-faced
+girl, that was none of his business. The Laird's marrying days had
+departed five-and-thirty years before.
+
+However, we had to finish our dinner, somehow, in consideration to our
+elder guest. And then the surgeon came; and bound up the ankle hard and
+fast; and Miss Avon, with a thousand meek apologies for being so stupid,
+declared again and again that her foot would be all right in the
+morning, and that we must get ready to start.  And when her friend
+assured her that this preliminary canter of the yacht might just as well
+be put off for a few days--until, for example, that young doctor from
+Edinburgh came who had been invited to go a proper cruise with us--her
+distress was so great that we had to promise to start next day
+punctually at ten.  So she sent us down again to amuse the Laird.
+
+But hark! what is this we hear just as Denny-mains is having his whisky
+and hot water brought in?  It is a gay voice humming on the stairs--
+
+_By the margin of fair Zuerich's waters._
+
+
+"That girl!" cries her hostess angrily, as she jumps to her feet.
+
+The door opens; and here is Mary Avon, with calm self-possession, making
+her way to a chair.
+
+"I knew you wouldn't believe me," she says coolly, "if I did not come
+down.  I tell you my foot is as well as may be; and Dot-and-carry-one
+will get down to the yacht in the morning as easily as any of you.  And
+that last story about Homesh," she says to the Laird, with a smile in
+the soft black eyes that must have made his heart jump.  "Really, sir,
+you must tell me the ending of that story; it was so stupid of me!"
+
+"Shilpit" she may have been; but the Laird, for one, was beginning to
+believe that this girl had the courage and nerve of a dozen men.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER III.*
+
+                              *UNDER WAY.*
+
+
+The first eager glance out on this brilliant and beautiful morning; and
+behold! it is all a wonder of blue seas and blue skies that we find
+before us, with Lismore lying golden-green in the sunlight, and the
+great mountains of Mull and Morven shining with the pale etherial
+colours of the dawn.  And what are the rhymes that are ringing through
+one's brain--the echo perchance of something heard far away among the
+islands--the islands that await our coming in the west?--
+
+  _O land of red heather!_
+  _O land of wild weather,_
+_And the cry of the waves, and the laugh of the breeze!_
+  _O love, now, together_
+  _Through the wind and wild weather_
+_We spread our while sails to encounter the seas!_
+
+
+Up and out, laggards, now; and hoist this big red and blue and white
+thing up to the head of the tall pole that the lads far below may know
+to send the gig ashore for us!  And there, on the ruffled blue waters of
+the bay, behold! the noble _White Dove_, with her great mainsail, and
+mizzen, and jib, all set and glowing in the sun; and the scarlet caps of
+the men are like points of fire in this fair blue picture; and the red
+ensign is fluttering in the light north-westerly breeze.  Breakfast is
+hurried over; and a small person who has a passion for flowers is
+dashing hither and thither in the garden until she has amassed an armful
+of our old familiar friends--abundant roses, fuchsias, heart's-ease,
+various coloured columbine, and masses of southernwood to scent our
+floating saloon; the waggonette is at the door, to take our invalid down
+to the landing-slip; and the Laird has discarded his dignified costume,
+and appears in a shooting-coat and a vast gray wide-awake.  As for Mary
+Avon, she is laughing, chatting, singing, here, there, and
+everywhere--giving us to understand that a sprained ankle is rather a
+pleasure than otherwise, and a great assistance in walking; until the
+Laird pounces upon her--as one might pounce on a butterfly--and
+imprisons her in the waggonette, with many a serious warning about her
+imprudence.  There let her sing to herself as she likes--amid the wild
+confusion of things forgotten till the last moment and thrust upon us
+just as we start.
+
+And here is the stalwart and brown-bearded Captain John--John of Skye we
+call him--himself come ashore in the gig, in all his splendour of blue
+and brass buttons; and he takes off his peaked cap to the mistress of
+our household--whom some of her friends call Queen Titania, because of
+her midge-like size--and he says to her with a smile--
+
+"And will Mrs. ---- herself be going with us this time?"
+
+That is Captain John's chief concern: for he has a great regard for this
+domineering small woman; and shows his respect for her, and his own high
+notions of courtesy, by invariably addressing her in the third person.
+
+"Oh, yes, John!" says she--and she can look pleasant enough when she
+likes--"and this is a young friend of mine, Miss Avon, whom you have to
+take great care of on board."
+
+And Captain John takes off his cap again; and is understood to tell the
+young lady that he will do his best, if she will excuse his not knowing
+much English.  Then, with great care, and with some difficulty, Miss
+Avon is assisted down from the waggonette, and conducted along the rough
+little landing-slip, and helped into the stern of the shapely and
+shining gig.  Away with her, boys!  The splash of the oars is heard in
+the still bay; the shore recedes; the white sails seem to rise higher
+into the blue sky as we near the yacht; here is the black hull with its
+line of gold--the gangway open--the ropes ready--the white decks
+brilliant in the sun.  We are on board at last.
+
+"And where will Mr. ---- himself be for going?" asks John of Skye, as
+the men are hauling the gig up to the davits.
+
+Mr. ---- briefly but seriously explains to the captain that, from some
+slight experience of the winds on this coast, he has found it of about
+as much use to order the tides to be changed as to settle upon any
+definite route. But he suggests the circumnavigation of the adjacent
+island of Mull as a sort of preliminary canter for a few days, until a
+certain notable guest shall arrive; and he would prefer going by the
+south, if the honourable winds will permit.  Further, John of Skye is
+not to be afraid of a bit of sea, on account of either of those ladies;
+both are excellent sailors. With these somewhat vague instructions,
+Captain John is left to get the yacht under way; and we go below to look
+after the stowage of our things in the various staterooms.
+
+And what is this violent altercation going on, in the saloon?
+
+"I will not have a word said against my captain," says Mary Avon.  "I am
+in love with him already.  His English is perfectly correct."
+
+This impertinent minx talking about correct English in the presence of
+the Laird of Denny-mains!
+
+"Mrs. ---- herself is perfectly correct; it is only politeness; it is
+like saying 'Your Grace' to a Duke."
+
+But who was denying it?  Surely not the imperious little woman who was
+arranging her flowers on the saloon table; nor yet Denny-mains, who was
+examining a box of variegated and recondite fishing-tackle?
+
+"It is all very well for fine ladies to laugh at the blunders of servant
+maids," continues this audacious girl.  "'Miss Brown presents her
+compliments to Miss Smith; and would you be so kind,' and so on.  But
+don't they often make the same blunder themselves?"
+
+Well, this was a discovery!
+
+"Doesn't Mrs. So-and-So request the honour of the company of Mr.
+So-and-So or Miss So-and-So for some purpose or other; and then you find
+at one corner of the card '_R.S.V.P._?'  'Answer if YOU please'!"
+
+A painful silence prevailed.  We began to reflect.  Whom did she mean to
+charge with this deadly crime?
+
+But her triumph makes her considerate. She will not harry us with scorn.
+
+"It is becoming far less common now, however," she remarks.  "'An answer
+is requested,' is much more sensible."
+
+"It is English," says the Laird, with decision.  "Surely it must be more
+sensible for an English person to write English.  Ah never use a French
+word maself."
+
+But what is the English that we hear now--called out on deck by the
+voice of John of Skye?
+
+"Eachan, slack the lee topping-lift!  Ay, and the tackle, too.  That'll
+do, boys.  Down with your main-tack, now!"
+
+"Why," exclaims our sovereign mistress, who knows something of nautical
+matters, "we must have started!"
+
+Then there is a tumbling up the companion-way; and lo! the land is
+slowly leaving us; and there is a lapping of the blue water along the
+side of the boat; and the white sails of the _White Dove_ are filled
+with this gentle breeze.  Deck-stools are arranged; books and
+field-glasses and what not scattered about; Mary Avon is helped on deck,
+and ensconced in a snug little camp-chair.  The days of our summer
+idleness have begun.
+
+And as yet these are but familiar scenes that steal slowly by--the long
+green island of Lismore--_Lios-mor_, the Great Garden; the dark ruins of
+Duart, sombre as if the shadow of nameless tragedies rested on the
+crumbling walls; Loch Don, with its sea-bird-haunted shallows, and Loch
+Speliv leading up to the awful solitudes of Glen More; then, stretching
+far into the wreathing clouds, the long rampart of precipices, rugged
+and barren and lonely, that form the eastern wall of Mull.
+
+There is no monotony on this beautiful summer morning; the scene changes
+every moment, as the light breeze bears us away to the south.  For there
+is the Sheep Island; and Garveloch--which is the rough island; and
+Eilean-na naomha--which is the island of the Saints.  But what are these
+to the small transparent cloud resting on the horizon?--smaller than any
+man's hand.  The day is still; and the seas are smooth: cannot we hear
+the mermaiden singing on the far shores of Colonsay?
+
+"Colonsay!" exclaims the Laird, seizing a field-glass.  "Dear me!  Is
+that Colonsay? And they telled me that Tom Galbraith was going there
+this very year."
+
+The piece of news fails to startle us altogether; though we have heard
+the Laird speak of Mr. Galbraith before.
+
+"Ay," says he, "the world will know something o' Colonsay when Tom
+Galbraith gets there."
+
+"Whom did you say?" Miss Avon asks.
+
+"Why, Galbraith!" says he.  "Tom Galbraith!"
+
+The Laird stares in amazement.  Is it possible she has not heard of Tom
+Galbraith? And she herself an artist; and coming direct from Edinburgh,
+where she has been living for two whole months!
+
+"Gracious me!" says the Laird.  "Ye do not say ye have never heard of
+Galbraith--he's an Academeecian!--a Scottish Academeecian!"
+
+"Oh, yes; no doubt," she says, rather bewildered.
+
+"There is no one living has had such an influence on our Scotch school
+of painters as Galbraith--a man of great abeelity--a man of great and
+uncommon abeelity--he is one of the most famous landscape painters of
+our day----"
+
+"I scarcely met any one in Edinburgh," she pleads.
+
+"But in London--in London!" exclaims the astonished Laird.  "Do ye mean
+to say you never heard o' Tom Galbraith?"
+
+"I--I think not," she confesses.  "I--I don't remember his name in the
+Academy catalogue----"
+
+"The Royal Academy!" cries the Laird, with scorn.  "No, no!  Ye need not
+expect that.  The English Academy is afraid of the Scotchmen: their
+pictures are too strong: you do not put good honest whisky beside small
+beer.  I say the English Academy is afraid of the Scotch school----"
+
+But flesh and blood can stand this no longer: we shall not have Mary
+Avon trampled upon.
+
+"Look here, Denny-mains: we always thought there was a Scotchman or two
+in the Royal Academy itself--and quite capable of holding their own
+there, too.  Why, the President of the Academy is a Scotchman! And as
+for the Academy exhibition, the very walls are smothered with Scotch
+hills, Scotch spates, Scotch peasants, to say nothing of the thousand
+herring-smacks of Tarbert."
+
+"I tell ye they are afraid of Tom Galbraith; they will not exhibit one
+of his pictures," says the Laird, stubbornly; and here the discussion is
+closed; for Master Fred tinkles his bell below, and we have to go down
+for luncheon.
+
+It was most unfair of the wind to take advantage of our absence, and to
+sneak off, leaving us in a dead calm.  It was all very well, when we
+came on deck again, to watch the terns darting about in their
+swallow-like fashion, and swooping down to seize a fish; and the strings
+of sea-pyots whirring by, with their scarlet beaks and legs; and the
+sudden shimmer and hissing of a part of the blue plain, where a shoal of
+mackerel had come to the surface; but where were we, now in the open
+Atlantic, to pass the night? We relinquished the doubling of the Ross of
+Mull; we should have been content--more than content, for the sake of
+auld lang syne--to have put into Carsaig; we were beginning even to have
+ignominious thoughts of Loch Buy.  And yet we let the golden evening
+draw on with comparative resignation; and we watched the colour
+gathering in the west, and the Atlantic taking darker hues, and a ruddy
+tinge beginning to tell on the seamed ridges of Garveloch and the isle
+of Saints.  When the wind sprung up again--it had backed to due west,
+and we had to beat against it with a series of long tacks, that took us
+down within sight of Islay and back to Mull apparently all for
+nothing--we were deeply engaged in prophesying all manner of things to
+be achieved by one Angus Sutherland, an old friend of ours, though yet a
+young man enough.
+
+"Just fancy, sir!" says our hostess to the Laird--the Laird, by the way,
+does not seem so enthusiastic as the rest of us, when he hears that this
+hero of modern days is about to join our party.  "What he has done beats
+all that I ever heard about Scotch University students; and you know
+what some of them have accomplished in the face of difficulties.  His
+father is a minister in some small place in Banffshire; perhaps he has
+200*l.* a year at the outside.  This son of his has not cost him a
+farthing for either his maintenance or his education, since he was
+fourteen; he took bursaries, scholarships, I don't know what, when he
+was a mere lad; supported himself and travelled all over Europe--but I
+think it was at Leipsic and at Vienna he studied longest; and the papers
+he has written--the lectures--and the correspondence with all the great
+scientific people--when they made him a Fellow, all he said was, 'I wish
+my mother was alive.'"
+
+This was rather an incoherent and jumbled account of a young man's
+career.
+
+"A Fellow of what?" says the Laird.
+
+"A Fellow of the Royal Society!  They made him a Fellow of the Royal
+Society last year!  And he is only seven-and-twenty!  I do believe he
+was not over one-and-twenty when he took his degree at Edinburgh.  And
+then--and then--there is really nothing that he doesn't know: is there,
+Mary?"
+
+This sudden appeal causes Mary Avon to flush slightly; but she says
+demurely, looking down--
+
+"Of course I don't know anything that he doesn't know."
+
+"Hm!" says the Laird, who does not seem over pleased.  "I have observed
+that young men who are too brilliant at the first, seldom come to much
+afterwards.  Has he gained anything substantial?  Has he a good
+practice? Does he keep his carriage yet?"
+
+"No, no!" says our hostess, with a fine contempt for such things.  "He
+has a higher ambition than that.  His practice is almost nothing.  He
+prefers to sacrifice that in the meantime.  But his reputation--among
+the scientific--why--why, it is European!"
+
+"Hm!" says the Laird.  "I have sometimes seen that persons who gave
+themselves up to erudeetion, lost the character of human beings
+altogether.  They become scientific machines.  The world is just made up
+of books for them--and lectures--they would not give a halfpenny to a
+beggar for fear of poleetical economy----"
+
+"Oh, how can you say such a thing of Angus Sutherland!" says she--though
+he has said no such thing of Angus Sutherland. "Why, here is this girl
+who goes to Edinburgh--all by herself--to nurse an old woman in her last
+illness; and as Angus Sutherland is in Edinburgh on some
+business--connected with the University, I believe--I ask him to call on
+her and see if he can give her any advice. What does he do?  He stops in
+Edinburgh two months--editing that scientific magazine there instead of
+in London--and all because he has taken an interest in the old woman and
+thinks that Mary should not have the whole responsibility on her
+shoulders.  Is that like a scientific machine?"
+
+"No," says the Laird, with a certain calm grandeur; "you do not often
+find young men doing that for the sake of an old woman."  But of course
+we don't know what he means.
+
+"And I am so glad he is coming to us!" she says, with real delight in
+her face.  "We shall take him away from his microscopes, and his
+societies, and all that.  Oh, and he is such a delightful companion--so
+simple, and natural, and straightforward!  Don't you think so, Mary?"
+
+Mary Avon is understood to assent: she does not say much--she is so
+deeply interested in a couple of porpoises that appear from time to time
+on the smooth plain on the sea.
+
+"I am sure a long holiday would do him a world of good," says this eager
+hostess; "but that is too much to expect.  He is always too busy.  I
+think he has got to go over to Italy soon, about some exhibition of
+surgical instruments, or something of that sort."
+
+We had plenty of further talk about Dr. Sutherland, and of the wonderful
+future that lay before him, that evening before we finally put into Loch
+Buy.  And there we dined; and after dinner we found the wan, clear
+twilight filling the northern heavens, over the black range of
+mountains, and throwing a silver glare on the smooth sea around us.  We
+could have read on deck at eleven at night---had that been necessary;
+but Mary Avon was humming snatches of songs to us, and the Laird was
+discoursing of the wonderful influence exerted on Scotch landscape-art
+by Tom Galbraith. Then in the south the yellow moon rose; and a golden
+lane of light lay on the sea, from the horizon across to the side of the
+yacht; and there was a strange glory on the decks and on the tall,
+smooth masts.  The peace of that night!--the soft air, the silence, the
+dreamy lapping of the water!
+
+"And whatever lies before Angus Sutherland," says one of us--"whether a
+baronetcy, or a big fortune, or marriage with an Italian princess--he
+won't find anything better than sailing in the _White Dove_ among the
+western islands."
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER IV.*
+
+                              *A MESSAGE.*
+
+
+What fierce commotion is this that awakes us in the morning--what
+pandemonium broken loose of wild storm-sounds---with the stately _White
+Dove_, ordinarily the most sedate and gentle of her sex, apparently gone
+mad, and flinging herself about as if bent on somersaults?  When one
+clambers up the companion-way, clinging hard, and puts one's head out
+into the gale, behold! there is not a trace of land visible
+anywhere--nothing but whirling clouds of mist and rain; and
+mountain-masses of waves that toss the _White Dove_ about as if she were
+a plaything; and decks all running wet with the driven spray.  John of
+Skye, clad from head to heel in black oilskins--and at one moment up in
+the clouds, the next moment descending into the great trough of the
+sea---hangs on to the rope that is twisted round the tiller; and laughs
+a good-morning; and shakes the salt water from his shaggy eyebrows and
+beard.
+
+"Hallo!  John--where on earth have we got to?"
+
+"Ay, ay, sir."
+
+"I say WHERE ARE WE?" is shouted, for the roar of the rushing Atlantic
+in deafening.
+
+"'Deed I not think we are far from Loch Buy," says John of Skye, grimly.
+"The wind is dead ahead of us--ay, shist dead ahead!"
+
+"What made you come out against a headwind then?"
+
+"When we cam' out," says John--picking his English, "the wind will be
+from the norse--ay, a fine light breeze from the norse.  And will Mr.
+---- himself be for going on now? it is a ferry bad sea for the
+leddies--a ferry coorse sea."
+
+But it appears that this conversation--bawled aloud--has been overheard.
+There are voices from below.  The skylight of the ladies' cabin is
+partly open.
+
+"Don't mind us," calls Mary Avon.  "Go on by all means!"
+
+The other voice calls--
+
+"Why can't you keep this fool of a boat straight?  Ask him when we shall
+be into the Sound of Iona."
+
+One might as well ask him when we shall be into the Sound of Jericho or
+Jerusalem. With half a gale of wind right in our teeth, and with the
+heavy Atlantic swell running, we might labour here all day--and all the
+night too--without getting round the Ross of Mull. There is nothing for
+it but to turn and run, that we may have our breakfast in peace.  Let
+her away, then, you brave John of Skye!--slack out the main-sheet, and
+give her plenty of it, too: then at the same moment Sandy from Islay
+perceives that a haul at the weather topping-lift will clear the boom
+from the davits; and now--and now, good Master Fred--our much-esteemed
+and shifty Friedrich d'or--if you will but lay the cloth on the table,
+we will help you to steady the dancing phantasmagoria of plates and
+forks!
+
+"Dear me!" says the Laird, when we are assembled together, "it has been
+an awful night!"
+
+"Oh, I hope you have not been ill!" says his hostess, with a quick
+concern in the soft, clear eyes.
+
+He does not look as if he had suffered much.  He is contentedly chipping
+an egg; and withal keeping an eye on the things near him, for the _White
+Dove_, still plunging a good deal, threatens at times to make of
+everything on the table a movable feast.
+
+"Oh, no, ma'am, not ill," he says.  "But at my time of life, ye see, one
+is not as light in weight as one used to be; and the way I was flung
+about in that cabin last night was just extraordinary.  When I was
+trying to put on my boots this morning, I am sure I resembled nothing so
+much as a pea in a bladder--indeed it was so--I was knocked about like a
+pea in a bladder."
+
+Of course we expressed great sympathy, and assured him that the _White
+Dove_--famed all along this coast for her sober and steady-going
+behaviour--would never act so any more.
+
+"However," said he thoughtfully, "the wakefulness of the night is often
+of use to people.  Yes, I have come to a decision."
+
+We were somewhat alarmed: was he going to leave us merely because of
+this bit of tossing?
+
+"I dare say ye know, ma'am," says he slowly, "that I am one of the
+Commissioners of the Burgh of Strathgovan.  It is a poseetion of grave
+responsibility.  This very question now--about our getting a steam
+fire-engine--has been weighing on my mind for many a day.  Well, I have
+decided I will no longer oppose it.  They may have the steam fire-engine
+as far as I am concerned."
+
+We felt greatly relieved.
+
+"Yes," continued the Laird, solemnly, "I think I am doing my duty in
+this matter as a public man should--laying aside his personal prejudice.
+But the cost of it!  Do ye know that we shall want bigger nozzles to all
+the fire-plugs?"
+
+Matters were looking grave again.
+
+"However," said the Laird cheerfully--for he would not depress us too
+much, "it may all turn out for the best; and I will telegraph my
+decision to Strathgovan as soon as ever the storm allows us to reach a
+port."
+
+The storm, indeed!  When we scramble up on deck again, we find that it
+is only a brisk sailing breeze we have; and the _White Dove_ is bowling
+merrily along, flinging high the white spray from her bows.  And then we
+begin to see that, despite those driving mists around us, there is
+really a fine clear summer day shining far above this twopenny-halfpenny
+tempest.  The whirling mists break here and there; and we catch glimpses
+of a placid blue sky, flecked with lines of motionless cirrhus cloud.
+The breaks increase; floods of sunshine fall on the gleaming decks;
+clearer and clearer become the vast precipices of southern Mull; and
+then, when we get well to the lee of Eilean-straid-ean, behold! the blue
+seas around us once more; and the blue skies overhead; and the red
+ensign fluttering in the summer breeze.  No wonder that Mary Avon sings
+her delight--as a linnet sings after the rain; and though the song is
+not meant for us at all, but is really hummed to herself as she clings
+on to the shrouds and watches the flashing and dipping of the
+white-winged gulls, we know that it is all about a jolly young waterman.
+The audacious creature: John of Skye has a wife and four children.
+
+Too quickly indeed does the fair summer day go by--as we pass the old
+familiar Duart and begin to beat up the Sound of Mull against a fine
+light sailing breeze.  By the time we have reached Ardtornish, the Laird
+has acquired some vague notion as to how the gaff topsail is set.
+Opposite the dark-green woods of Funeray, he tells us of the
+extraordinary faculty possessed by Tom Galbraith of representing the
+texture of foliage. At Salen we have Master Fred's bell summoning us
+down to lunch; and thereafter, on deck, coffee, draughts, crochet, and a
+profoundly interesting description of some of the knotty points in the
+great Semple heresy case. And here again, as we bear away over almost to
+the mouth of Loch Sunart, is the open Atlantic--of a breezy grey under
+the lemon-colour and silver of the calm evening sky. What is the use of
+going on against this contrary wind, and missing, in the darkness of the
+night, all the wonders of the western islands that the Laird is anxious
+to see?  We resolve to run into Tobermory; and by and by we find
+ourselves under the shadow of the wooded rocks, with the little white
+town shining along the semicircle of the bay.  And very cleverly indeed
+does John of Skye cut in among the various craft--showing off a little
+bit, perhaps--until the _White Dove_ is brought up to the wind, and the
+great anchor-cable goes out with a roar.
+
+Now it was by the merest accident that we got at Tobermory a telegram
+that had been forwarded that very day to meet us on our return voyage.
+There was no need for any one to go ashore, for we were scarcely in port
+before a most praiseworthy gentleman was so kind as to send us on board
+a consignment of fresh flowers, vegetables, milk, eggs, and so
+forth--the very things that become of inestimable value to yachting
+people.  However, we had two women on board; and of course--despite a
+certain bandaged ankle--they must needs go shopping.  And Mary Avon,
+when we got ashore, would buy some tobacco for her favourite Captain
+John; and went into the post-office for that purpose, and was having the
+black stuff measured out by the yard when some mention was made of the
+_White Dove_. Then a question was asked; there was a telegram; it was
+handed to Miss Avon, who opened it and read it.
+
+"Oh!" said she, looking rather concerned; and then she regarded her
+friend with some little hesitation.
+
+"It is my uncle," she says; "he wants to see me on very urgent business.
+He is--coming--to see me--the day after to-morrow."
+
+Blank consternation followed this announcement. This person, even though
+he was Mary Avon's sole surviving relative, was quite intolerable to us.
+East Wind we had called him in secret, on the few occasions on which he
+had darkened our doors.  And just as we were making up our happy family
+party--with the Laird, and Mary, and Angus Sutherland--to sail away to
+the far Hebrides, here was this insufferable creature--with his raucous
+voice, his washed-out eyes, his pink face, his uneasy manner, and
+general groom or butler-like appearance--thrusting himself on us!
+
+"Well, you know, Mary," says her hostess--entirely concealing her dismay
+in her anxious politeness--"we shall almost certainly be home by the day
+after to-morrow, if we get any wind at all.  So you had better telegraph
+to your uncle to come on to Castle Osprey, and to wait for you if you
+are not there; we cannot be much longer than that. And Angus Sutherland
+will be there; he will keep him company until we arrive."
+
+So that was done, and we went on board again--one of us meanwhile vowing
+to himself that ere ever Mr. Frederick Smethurst set sail with us on
+board the _White Dove_, a rifle-bullet through her hull would send that
+gallant vessel to the lobsters.
+
+Now what do you think our Mary Avon set to work to do--all during this
+beautiful summer evening, as we sat on deck and eyed curiously the other
+craft in the bay, or watched the firs grow dark against the
+silver-yellow twilight?  We could not at first make out what she was
+driving at.  Her occupation in the world, so far as she had any--beyond
+being the pleasantest of companions and the faithfullest of friends--was
+the painting of landscapes in oil, not the construction of Frankenstein
+monsters.  But here she begins by declaring to us that there is one type
+of character that has never been described by any satirist, or
+dramatist, or fictionist--a common type, too, though only becoming
+pronounced in rare instances.  It is the moral Tartuffe, she
+declares--the person who is through and through a hypocrite, not to
+cloak evil doings, but only that his eager love of approbation may be
+gratified.  Look now how this creature of diseased vanity, of plausible
+manners, of pretentious humbug, rises out of the smoke like the figure
+summoned by a wizard's wand!  As she gives us little touches here and
+there of the ways of this professor of bonhomie--this bundle of
+affectations--we begin to prefer the most diabolical villainy that any
+thousand of the really wicked Tartuffes could have committed.  He grows
+and grows.  His scraps of learning, as long as those more ignorant than
+himself are his audience; his mock humility anxious for praise; his
+parade of generous and sententious sentiment; his
+pretence--pretence--pretence--all arising from no evil machinations
+whatever, but from a morbid and restless craving for esteem.  Hence,
+horrible shadow! Let us put out the candles and get to bed.
+
+But next morning, as we find ourselves out on the blue Atlantic again,
+with Ru-na-Gaul lighthouse left far behind, and the pale line of Coll at
+the horizon, we begin to see why the skill and patient assiduity of this
+amateur psychologist should have raised that ghost for us the night
+before.  Her uncle is coming. He is not one of the plausible kind.  And
+if it should be necessary to invite him on board, might we not the more
+readily tolerate his cynical bluntness and rudeness, after we have been
+taught to abhor as the hatefullest of mortals the well-meaning hypocrite
+whose vanity makes his life a bundle of small lies? Very clever indeed,
+Miss Avon--very clever. But don't you raise any more ghosts; they are
+unpleasant company--even as an antidote. And now, John of Skye, if it
+must be that we are to encounter this pestilent creature at the end of
+our voyage, clap on all sail now, and take us right royally down through
+these far islands of the west.  Ah! do we not know them of old?  Soon as
+we get round the Cailleach Point we descry the nearest of them amid the
+loneliness of the wide Atlantic sea. For there is Carnaburg, with her
+spur of rock; and Fladda, long and rugged, and bare; and Lunga, with her
+peak; and the Dutchman's Cap--a pale blue in the south.  How bravely the
+_White Dove_ swings on her way--springing like a bird over the western
+swell!  And as we get past Ru-Treshnish, behold! another group of
+islands--Gometra and the green-shored Ulva, that guard the entrance to
+Loch Tua; and Colonsay, the haunt of the sea birds; and the rock of
+Erisgeir--all shining in the sun.  And then we hear a strange
+sound--different from the light rush of the waves--a low, and sullen,
+and distant booming, such as one faintly hears in a sea-shell. As the
+_White Dove_ ploughs on her way, we come nearer and nearer to this
+wonder of the deep--the ribbed and fantastic shores of Staffa; and we
+see how the great Atlantic rollers, making for the cliffs of Gribun and
+Burg, are caught by those outer rocks and torn into masses of white
+foam, and sent roaring and thundering into the blackness of the caves.
+We pass close by; the air trembles with the shock of that mighty surge;
+there is a mist of spray rising into the summer air.  And then we sail
+away again; and the day wears on as the white-winged _White Dove_ bounds
+over the heavy seas; and Mary Avon--as we draw near the Ross of Mull,
+all glowing in the golden evening--is singing a song of Ulva.
+
+But there is no time for romance, as the _White Dove_ (drawing eight
+feet of water) makes in for the shallow harbour outside Bunessan.
+
+"Down foresail!" calls out our John of Skye; and by and by her head
+comes up to the wind, the great mainsail flapping in the breeze.  And
+again, "Down chub, boys!" and there is another rattle and roar amid the
+silence of this solitary little bay.  The herons croak their fright and
+fly away on heavy wing; the curlews whistle shrilly; the sea-pyots whirr
+along the lonely shores.  And then our good Friedrich d'or sounds his
+silver-toned bell.
+
+The stillness of this summer evening on deck; the glory deepening over
+the wide Atlantic; the delightful laughter of the Laird over those "good
+ones" about Homesh; the sympathetic glance of Mary Avon's soft black
+eyes: did we not value them all the more that we knew we had something
+far different to look forward to?  Even as we idled away the beautiful
+and lambent night, we had a vague consciousness that our enemy was
+stealthily drawing near.  In a day or two at the most we should find the
+grim spectre of the East Wind in the rose-garden of Castle Osprey.
+
+
+
+
+                              *CHAPTER V.*
+
+                           *A BRAVE CAREER.*
+
+
+Bur when we went on deck the next morning we forgot all about the
+detestable person who was about to break in upon our peace (there was
+small chance that our faithful Angus Sutherland might encounter the
+snake in this summer paradise, and trample on him, and pitch him out;
+for this easy way of getting rid of disagreeable folk is not permitted
+in the Highlands nowadays) as we looked on the beautiful bay shining all
+around us.
+
+"Dear me!" said Denny-mains, "if Tom Galbraith could only see that now!
+It is a great peety he has never been to this place. I'm thinking I must
+write to him."
+
+The Laird did not remember that we had an artist on board--one who, if
+she was not so great an artist as Mr. Galbraith, had at least exhibited
+one or two small landscapes in oil at the Royal Academy.  But then the
+Academicians, though they might dread the contrast between their own
+work and that of Tom Galbraith, could have no fear of Mary Avon.
+
+And even Mr. Galbraith himself might have been puzzled to find among his
+pigments any equivalent for the rare and clear colours of this morning
+scene as now we sailed away from Bunessan with a light topsail breeze.
+How blue the day was--blue skies, blue seas, a faint transparent blue
+along the cliffs of Burg and Gribun, a darker blue where the far
+Ru-Treshanish ran out into the sea, a shadow of blue to mark where the
+caves of Staffa retreated from the surface of the sun-brown rocks!  And
+here, nearer at hand, the warmer colours of the shore--the soft, velvety
+olive-greens of the moss and breckan; the splashes of lilac where the
+rocks were bare of herbage; the tender sunny reds where the granite
+promontories ran out to the sea; the beautiful cream-whites of the sandy
+bays!
+
+Here, too, are the islands again as we get out into the open--Gometra,
+with its one white house at the point; and Inch Kenneth, where the seals
+show their shining black heads among the shallows; and Erisgeir and
+Colonsay, where the skarts alight to dry their wings on the rocks; and
+Staffa, and Lunga, and the Dutchman, lying peaceful enough now on the
+calm blue seas.  We have time to look at them, for the wind is slight,
+and the broad-beamed _White Dove_ is not a quick sailer in a light
+breeze.  The best part of the forenoon is over before we find ourselves
+opposite to the gleaming white sands of the northern bays of Iona.
+
+"But surely both of us together will be able to make him stay longer
+than ten days," says the elder of the two women to the younger--and you
+may be sure she was not speaking of East Wind.
+
+Mary Avon looks up with a start; then looks down again--perhaps with the
+least touch of colour in her face--as she says hurriedly--
+
+"Oh, I think you will.  He is your friend. As for me--you see--I--I
+scarcely know him."
+
+"Oh, Mary!" says the other reproachfully. "You have been meeting him
+constantly all these two months; you must know him better than any of
+us.  I am sure I wish he was on board now--he could tell us all about
+the geology of the islands, and what not.  It will be delightful to have
+somebody on board who knows something."
+
+Such is the gratitude of women!--and the Laird had just been describing
+to her some further points of the famous heresy case.
+
+"And then he knows Gaelic!" says the elder woman.  "He will tell us what
+all the names of the islands mean."
+
+"Oh, yes," says the younger one, "he understands Gaelic very well,
+though he cannot speak much of it."
+
+"And I think he is very fond of boats," remarks our hostess.
+
+"Oh, exceedingly--exceedingly!" says the other, who, if she does not
+know Angus Sutherland, seems to have picked up some information about
+him somehow.  "You cannot imagine how he has been looking forward to
+sailing with you; he has scarcely had any holiday for years."
+
+"Then he must stay longer than ten days," says the elder woman; adding
+with a smile, "you know, Mary, it is not the number of his patients that
+will hurry him back to London."
+
+"Oh, but I assure you," says Miss Avon seriously, "that he is not at all
+anxious to have many patients--as yet!  Oh, no!--I never knew any one
+who was so indifferent about money.  I know he would live on bread and
+water--if that were necessary--to go on with his researches.  He told me
+himself that all the time he was at Leipsic his expenses were never more
+than 1*l.* a week."
+
+She seemed to know a good deal about the circumstances of this young
+F.R.S.
+
+"Look at what he has done with those anaesthetics," continues Miss Avon.
+"Isn't it better to find out something that does good to the whole world
+than give yourself up to making money by wheedling a lot of old women?"
+
+This estimate of the physician's art was not flattering.
+
+"But," she says warmly, "if the Government had any sense, that is just
+the sort of man they would put in a position to go on with his
+invaluable work.  And Oxford and Cambridge, with all their wealth, they
+scarcely even recognise the noblest profession that a man can devote
+himself to--when even the poor Scotch Universities and the Universities
+all over Europe have always had their medical and scientific chairs.  I
+think it is perfectly disgraceful!"
+
+Since when had she become so strenuous an advocate of the endowment of
+research?
+
+"Why, look at Dr. Sutherland--when he is burning to get on with his own
+proper work--when his name is beginning to be known all over Europe--he
+has to fritter away his time in editing a scientific magazine and in
+those hospital lectures.  And that, I suppose, is barely enough to live
+on.  But I know," she says, with decision, "that in spite of
+everything--I know that before he is five-and-thirty, he will be
+President of the British Association."
+
+Here, indeed, is a brave career for the Scotch student: cannot one
+complete the sketch as it roughly exists in the minds of those two
+women?
+
+At twenty-one, B.M. of Edinburgh.
+
+At twenty-six, F.R.S.
+
+At thirty, Professor of Biology at Oxford: the chair founded through the
+intercession of the women of Great Britain.
+
+At thirty-five, President of the British Association.
+
+At forty, a baronetcy, for further discoveries in the region of
+anaesthetics.
+
+At forty-five, consulting physician to half the gouty old gentlemen of
+England, and amassing an immense fortune.
+
+At fifty----
+
+Well, at fifty, is it not time that "the poor Scotch student," now
+become great and famous and wealthy, should look around for some
+beautiful princess to share his high estate with him?  He has not had
+time before to think of such matters.  But what is this now?  Is it that
+microscopes and test-tubes have dimmed his eyes?  Is it that honours and
+responsibilities have silvered his hair?  Or, is the drinking deep of
+the Pactolus stream a deadly poison?  There is no beautiful princess
+awaiting him anywhere.  He is alone among his honours.  There was once a
+beautiful princess--beautiful-souled and tender-eyed, if not otherwise
+too lovely--awaiting him among the Western Seas; but that time is over
+and gone many a year ago.  The opportunity has passed. Ambition called
+him away, and he left her; and the last he saw of her was when he bade
+good-bye to the _White Dove_.
+
+What have we to do with these idle dreams? We are getting within sight
+of Iona village now; and the sun is shining on the green shores, and on
+the ruins of the old cathedral, and on that white house just above the
+cornfield.  And as there is no good anchorage about the island, we have
+to make in for a little creek on the Mull side of the Sound, called
+Polterriv, or the Bull-hole; and this creek is narrow, tortuous, and
+shallow; and a yacht drawing eight feet of water has to be guided with
+some circumspection--especially if you go up to the inner harbour above
+the rock called the Little Bull.  And so we make inquiries of John of
+Skye, who has not been with us here before.  It is even hinted, that if
+he is not quite sure of the channel, we might send the gig over to Iona
+for John Macdonald, who is an excellent pilot.
+
+"John Macdonald!" exclaims John of Skye, whose professional pride has
+been wounded. "Will John Macdonald be doing anything more than I wass do
+myself in the Bull-hole--ay, last year--last year I will tek my own
+smack out of the Bull-hole at the norse end, and ferry near low water,
+too; and her deep-loaded?  Oh, yes, I will be knowing the Bull-hole this
+many a year."
+
+And John of Skye is as good as his word. Favoured by a flood-tide, we
+steal gently into the unfrequented creek, behind the great rocks of red
+granite; and so extraordinarily clear is the water that, standing
+upright on the deck, we can see the white sand of the bottom with shoals
+of young saithe darting this way and that.  And then just as we get
+opposite an opening in the rocks, through which we can descry the
+northern shores of Iona, and above those the blue peak of the Dutchman,
+away goes the anchor with a short, quick rush; her head swings round to
+meet the tide; the _White Dove_ is safe from all the winds that blow.
+Now lower away the gig, boys, and bear us over the blue waters of the
+Sound!
+
+"I am really afraid to begin," Mary Avon says, as we remonstrate with
+her for not having touched a colour-tube since she started. "Besides,
+you know, I scarcely look on it that we have really set out yet.  This
+is only a sort of shaking ourselves into our places; I am only getting
+accustomed to the ways of our cabin now.  I shall scarcely consider that
+we have started on our real voyaging until----"
+
+Oh, yes, we know very well.  Until we have got Angus Sutherland on
+board.  But what she really said was, after slight hesitation:
+
+"----until we set out for the Northern Hebrides."
+
+"Ay, it's a good thing to feel nervous about beginning," says the Laird,
+as the long sweep of the four oars brings us nearer and nearer to the
+Iona shores.  "I have often heard Tom Galbraith say that to the younger
+men.  He says if a young man is over confident, he'll come to nothing.
+But there was a good one I once heard Galbraith tell about a young man
+that was pentin at Tarbert--that's Tarbert on Loch Fyne, Miss Avon.  Ay,
+well, he was pentin away, and he was putting in the young lass of the
+house as a fisher-lass; and he asked her if she could not get a creel to
+strap on her back, as a background for her head, ye know.  Well, says
+she----"
+
+Here the fierce humour of the story began to bubble up in the Laird's
+blue-grey eyes. We were all half laughing already.  It was impossible to
+resist the glow of delight on the Laird's face.
+
+"Says she--just as pat as ninepence--says she, 'it's your ain head that
+wants a creel!'"
+
+The explosion was inevitable.  The roar of laughter at this good one was
+so infectious that a subdued smile played over the rugged features of
+John of Skye.  "_It's your ain head that wants a creel:_" the Laird
+laughed, and laughed again, until the last desperately suppressed sounds
+were something like _kee! kee! kee!_  Even Mary Avon pretended to
+understand.
+
+"There was a real good one," says he, obviously overjoyed to have so
+appreciative an audience, "that I mind of reading in the Dean's
+_Reminiscences_.  It was about an old leddy in Edinburgh who met in a
+shop a young officer she had seen before.  He was a tall young man, and
+she eyed him from head to heel, and says she--ha! ha!--says she, '_Od,
+ye're a lang lad: God gie ye grace._'  Dry--very dry--wasn't it?  There
+was real humour in that--a pawky humour that people in the South cannot
+understand at all.  '_Od_', says she, '_ye're a lang lad: God grant ye
+grace._'  There was a great dale of character in that."
+
+We were sure of it; but still we preferred the Laird's stories about
+Homesh.  We invariably liked best the stories at which the Laird laughed
+most--whether we quite understood their pawky humour or not.
+
+"Dr. Sutherland has a great many stories about the Highlanders," says
+Miss Avon timidly; "they are very amusing."
+
+"As far as I have observed," remarked the Laird--for how could he relish
+the notion of having a rival anecdote-monger on board?--"as far as I
+have observed, the Highland character is entirely without humour.  Ay, I
+have heard Tom Galbraith say that very often, and he has been everywhere
+in the Highlands."
+
+"Well, then," says Mary Avon, with a quick warmth of indignation in her
+face--how rapidly those soft dark eyes could change their
+expression!--"I hope Mr. Galbraith knows more about painting than he
+knows about the Highlanders!  I thought that anybody who knows anything
+knows that the Celtic nature is full of imagination, and humour, and
+pathos, and poetry; and the Saxon--the Saxon!--it is his business to
+plod over ploughed fields, and be as dull and commonplace as the other
+animals he sees there!"
+
+Gracious goodness!--here was a tempest! The Laird was speechless; for,
+indeed, at this moment we bumped against the sacred shores--that is to
+say, the landing-slip--of Iona; and had to scramble on to the big
+stones.  Then we walked up and past the cottages, and through the
+potato-field, and past the white inn, and so to the hallowed shrine and
+its graves of the kings.  We spent the whole of the afternoon there.
+
+When we got back to the yacht and to dinner we discovered that a friend
+had visited us in our absence, and had left of his largesse behind
+him--nasturtiums and yellow-and-white pansies, and what not--to say
+nothing of fresh milk, and crisp, delightful lettuce.  We drank his
+health.
+
+Was it the fear of some one breaking in on our domestic peace that made
+that last evening among the western islands so lovely to us?  We went
+out in the gig after dinner; the Laird put forth his engines of
+destruction to encompass the innocent lythe; we heard him humming the
+"Haughs o' Cromdale" in the silence.  The wonderful glory of that
+evening!--Iona become an intense olive-green against the gold and
+crimson of the sunset; the warm light shining along the red granite of
+western Mull.  Then the yellow moon rose in the south--into the calm
+violet-hued vault of the heavens; and there was a golden fire on the
+ripples and on the wet blades of the oars as we rowed back with laughter
+and singing.
+
+_Sing tantara! sing tantara!_
+_Sing tantara! sing tantara!_
+  _Said he, the Highland army rues_
+  _That ere they came to Cromdale!_
+
+
+And then, next morning, we were up at five o'clock.  If we were going to
+have a tooth pulled, why not have the little interview over at once?
+East Wind would be waiting for us at Castle Osprey.
+
+Blow, soft westerly breeze, then, and bear us down by Fion-phort, and
+round the granite Ross--shining all a pale red in the early dawn. And
+here is Ardalanish Point; and there, as the morning goes by, are the
+Carsaig arches, and then Loch Buy, and finally the blue Firth of Lorn.
+Northward now, and still northward--until, far away, the white house
+shining amidst the firs, and the flag fluttering in the summer air.
+Have they descried us, then? Or is the bunting hoisted in honour of
+guests? The pale cheek of Mary Avon tells a tale as she descries that
+far signal; but that is no business of ours.  Perhaps it is only of her
+uncle that she is thinking.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER VI.*
+
+                           *OUR NEW GUESTS.*
+
+
+Behold, now!--this beautiful garden of Castle Osprey all ablaze in the
+sun--the roses, pansies, poppies, and what not bewildering our eyes
+after the long looking at the blue water and, in the midst of the
+brilliant paradise--just as we had feared--the snake!  He did not scurry
+away at our approach, as snakes are wont to do; or raise his horrent
+head, and hiss.  The fact is, we found him comfortably seated under a
+drooping ash, smoking.  He rose and explained that he had strolled up
+from the shore to await our coming.  He did not seem to notice that Mary
+Avon, as she came along, had to walk slowly, and was leaning on the arm
+of the Laird.
+
+Certainly nature had not been bountiful to this short, spare person who
+had now come among us.  He had closely-cropped, coarse grey hair; an
+eagle beak; a certain pink and raw appearance of the face, as if
+perpetual east winds had chafed the skin; and a most pernicious habit of
+loudly clearing his husky throat. Then with the aggressive nose went a
+well-defined pugilist's jaw and a general hang-dog scowl about the
+mouth.  For the rest Mr. Smethurst seemed desirous of making up for
+those unpleasant features which nature had bestowed upon him by a
+studied air of self-possession, and by an extreme precision of dress.
+Alack, and well-a-day! these laudable efforts were of little avail.
+Nature was too strong for him.  The assumption of a languid air was not
+quite in consonance with the ferrety grey eyes and the bull-dog mouth;
+the precision of his costume only gave him the look of a well-dressed
+groom, or a butler gone on the turf.  There was not much grateful to the
+sight about Mr. Frederick Smethurst.
+
+But were we to hate the man for being ugly? Despite his raw face, he
+might have the white soul of an angel.  And in fact we knew absolutely
+nothing against his public character or private reputation, except that
+he had once gone through the Bankruptcy Court; and even of that little
+circumstance our womenfolk were not aware.  However, there was no doubt
+at all that a certain coldness--apparent to us who knew her well--marked
+the manner of this small lady who now went up and shook hands with him,
+and declared--unblushingly--that she was so glad he had run up to the
+Highlands.
+
+"And you know," said she, with that charming politeness which she would
+show to the arch-fiend himself if he were properly introduced to her,
+"you know, Mr. Smethurst, that yachting is such an uncertain thing, one
+never knows when one may get back; but if you could spare a few days to
+take a run with us, you would see what a capital mariner Mary has
+become, and I am sure it would be a great pleasure to us."
+
+These were actually her words.  She uttered them without the least
+tremor of hesitation. She looked him straight in the face with those
+clear, innocent, confiding eyes of hers.  How could the man tell that
+she was wishing him at Jericho?
+
+And it was in silence that we waited to hear our doom pronounced.  A
+yachting trip with this intolerable Jonah on board! The sunlight went
+out of the day; the blue went out of the sky and the seas; the world was
+filled with gloom, and chaos, and East Wind!
+
+Imagine, then, the sudden joy with which we heard of our deliverance!
+Surely it was not the raucous voice of Frederick Smethurst, but a sound
+of summer bells.
+
+"Oh, thank you," he said, in his affectedly indifferent way; "but the
+fact is, I have run up to see Mary only on a little matter of business,
+and I must get back at once.  Indeed, I purpose leaving by the Dalmally
+coach in the afternoon.  Thank you very much, though; perhaps some other
+time I may be more fortunate."
+
+How we had wronged this poor man!  We hated him no longer.  On the
+contrary, great grief was expressed over his departure; and he was
+begged at least to stay that one evening.  No doubt he had heard of Dr.
+Angus Sutherland, who had made such discoveries in the use of
+anaesthetics? Dr. Sutherland was coming by the afternoon steamer.  Would
+not he stay and meet him at dinner?
+
+Our tears broke out afresh--metaphorically--when East Wind persisted in
+his intention of departure; but of course compulsion was out of the
+question.  And so we allowed him to go into the house, to have that
+business interview with his niece.
+
+"A poor crayture!" remarked the Laird confidently, forgetting that he
+was talking of a friend of ours.  "Why does he not speak out like a man,
+instead of drawling and dawdling? His accent is jist insufferable."
+
+"And what business can he have with Mary?" says our sovereign lady
+sharply--just as if a man with a raw skin and an eagle-beak must
+necessarily be a pickpocket. "He was the trustee of that little fortune
+of hers, I know; but that is all over.  She got the money when she came
+of age.  What can he want to see her about now?"
+
+We concerned ourselves not with that.  It was enough for us that the
+snake was about to retreat from our summer paradise of his own free will
+and pleasure.  And Angus Sutherland was coming; and the provisioning of
+the yacht had to be seen to; for to-morrow--to-morrow we spread our
+white wings again and take flight to the far north!
+
+Never was parting guest so warmly speeded. We concealed our tears as the
+coach rolled away.  We waved a hand to him.  And then, when it was
+suggested that the wagonette that had brought Mary Avon down from Castle
+Osprey might just as well go along to the quay--for the steamer bringing
+Dr. Sutherland would be in shortly--and when we actually did set out in
+that direction, there was so little grief on our faces that you could
+not have told we had been bidding farewell to a valued friend and
+relative.
+
+Now if our good-hearted Laird had had a grain of jealousy in his nature,
+he might well have resented the manner in which these two women spoke of
+the approaching guest.  In their talk the word "he" meant only one
+person.  "He" was sure to come by this steamer.  "He" was so punctual in
+his engagements.  Would he bring a gun or a rod; or would the sailing be
+enough amusement for him?  What a capital thing it was for him to be
+able to take an interest in some such out-of-door exercise, as a
+distraction to the mind! And so forth, and so forth.  The Laird heard
+all this, and his expectations were no doubt rising and rising.
+Forgetful of his disappointment on first seeing Mary Avon, he was in all
+likelihood creating an imaginary figure of Angus Sutherland--and, of
+course, this marvel of erudition and intellectual power must be a tall,
+wan, pale person, with the travail of thinking written in lines across
+the spacious brow.  The Laird was not aware that for many a day after we
+first made the acquaintance of the young Scotch student he was generally
+referred to in our private conversation as "Brose."
+
+And, indeed, the Laird did stare considerably when he saw--elbowing his
+way through the crowd and making for us with a laugh of welcome on the
+fresh-coloured face--a stout-set, muscular, blue-eyed, sandy-haired,
+good-humoured-looking, youngish man; who, instead of having anything
+Celtic about his appearance, might have been taken for the son of a
+south-country farmer.  Our young Doctor was carrying his own
+portmanteau, and sturdily shoving his way through the porters who would
+fain have seized it.
+
+"I am glad to see you, Angus," said our queen regent, holding out her
+hand; and there was no ceremonial politeness in that reception--but you
+should have seen the look in her eyes.
+
+Then he went on to the waggonette.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Avon?" said he, quite timidly, like a school-boy.
+He scarcely glanced up at her face, which was regarding him with a very
+pleasant welcome; he seemed relieved when he had to turn and seize his
+portmanteau again.  Knowing that he was rather fond of driving, our
+mistress and admiral-in-chief offered him the reins, but he declined the
+honour; Mary Avon was sitting in front.  "Oh, no, thank you," said he
+quite hastily, and with something uncommonly like a blush.  The Laird,
+if he had been entertaining any feeling of jealousy, must have been
+reassured.  This Doctor-fellow was no formidable rival.  He spoke very
+little--he only listened--as we drove away to Castle Osprey.  Mary Avon
+was chatting briskly and cheerfully, and it was to the Laird that she
+addressed that running fire of nonsense and merry laughter.
+
+But the young Doctor was greatly concerned when, on our arrival at
+Castle Osprey, he saw Mary Avon helped down with much care, and heard
+the story of the sprain.
+
+"Who bandages your ankle?" said he at once, and without any shyness now.
+
+"I do it myself," said she cheerfully.  "I can do it well enough."
+
+"Oh, no, you cannot!" said he abruptly; "a person stooping cannot.  The
+bandage should be as tight, and as smooth, as the skin of a drum.  You
+must let some one else do that for you."
+
+And he was disposed to resent this walking about in the garden before
+dinner.  What business had she to trifle with such a serious matter as a
+sprain?  And a sprain which was the recall of an older sprain.  "Did she
+wish to be lame for life?" he asked sharply.
+
+Mary Avon laughed, and said that worse things than that had befallen
+people.  He asked her whether she found any pleasure in voluntary
+martyrdom; she blushed a little, and turned to the Laird.
+
+The Laird was at this moment laying before us the details of a most
+gigantic scheme.  It appeared that the inhabitants of Strathgovan, not
+content with a steam fire-engine, were talking about having a public
+park--actually proposing to have a public park, with beds of flowers,
+and iron seats; and, to crown all, a gymnasium, where the youths of the
+neighbourhood might twirl themselves on the gay trapeze to their hearts'
+content.  And where the subscriptions were to come from; and what were
+the hardiest plants for borders; and whether the gymnasium should be
+furnished with ropes or with chains--these matters were weighing heavily
+on the mind of our good friend of Denny-mains.  Angus Sutherland
+relapsed into silence, and gazed absently at a tree-fuchsia that stood
+by.
+
+"It is a beautiful tree, is it not?" said a voice beside him--that of
+our midge-like empress.
+
+He started.
+
+"Oh, yes," he said cheerfully.  "I was thinking I should like to live
+the life of a tree like that, dying in the winter, you know, and being
+quite impervious to frost, and snow, and hard weather; and then, as soon
+as the fine warm spring and summer came round, coming to life again and
+spreading yourself out to feel all the sunlight and the warm winds. That
+must be a capital life."
+
+"But do you really think they can feel that? Why, you must believe that
+those trees and flowers are alive!"
+
+"Does anybody doubt it?" said he quite simply.  "They are certainly
+alive.  Why----"
+
+And here he bethought himself for a moment.
+
+"If I only had a good microscope now," said he eagerly, "I would show
+you the life of a plant directly--in every cell of it: did you never see
+the constant life in each cell--the motion of the chlorophyll granules
+circling and circling night and day?  Did no one ever show you that?"
+
+Well, no one had ever shown us that.  We may now and again have
+entertained angels unawares; but we were not always stumbling against
+Fellows of the Royal Society.
+
+"Then I must borrow one somewhere," said he decisively, "and show you
+the secret life of even the humblest plant that exists.  And then look
+what a long life it is, in the case of the perennial plants.  Did you
+ever think of that? Those great trees in the Yosemite valley--they were
+alive and feeling the warm sunlight and the winds about them when Alfred
+was hiding in the marshes; and they were living the same undisturbed
+life when Charles the First had his head chopped off; and they were
+living--in peace and quietness--when all Europe had to wake up to stamp
+out the Napoleonic pest; and they are alive now and quite careless of
+the little creatures that come to span out their circumference, and
+ticket them, and give them ridiculous names.  Had any of the patriarchs
+a life as long as that?"
+
+The Laird eyed this young man askance. There was something uncanny about
+him. What might not he say when--in the northern solitudes to which we
+were going--the great Semple heresy-case was brought on for discussion?
+
+But at dinner the Laird got on very well with our new guest; for the
+latter listened most respectfully when Denny-mains was demonstrating the
+exceeding purity, and strength, and fitness of the speech used in the
+south of Scotland.  And indeed the Laird was generous. He admitted that
+there were blemishes.  He deprecated the introduction of French words;
+and gave us a much longer list of those aliens than usually appears in
+books.  What about _conjee_, and _que-vee_, and _fracaw_ as used by
+Scotch children and old wives?
+
+Then after dinner--at nine o'clock the wonderful glow of the summer
+evening was still filling the drawing-room--the Laird must needs have
+Mary Avon sing to him.  It was not a custom of hers.  She rarely would
+sing a song of set purpose.  The linnet sings all day--when you do not
+watch her; but she will not sing if you go and ask.
+
+However, on this occasion, her hostess went to the piano, and sat down
+to play the accompaniment; and Mary Avon stood beside her and sang, in
+rather a low voice--but it was tender enough--some modern version of the
+old ballad of the Queen's Maries.  What were the words?  These were of
+them, any way:--
+
+_Yestreen the Queen had four Maries;_
+_This night she'll hae but three:_
+_There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,_
+_And Mary Carmichael, and me._
+
+
+But indeed, if you had seen that graceful slim figure--clad all in black
+velvet, with the broad band of gold fringe round the neck--and the
+small, shapely, smoothly-brushed head above the soft swathes of white
+muslin--and if you had caught a glimpse of the black eyelashes drooping
+outward from the curve of the pale cheek--and if you had heard the
+tender, low voice of Mary Avon, you might have forgotten about the
+Queen's Maries altogether.
+
+And then Dr. Sutherland: the Laird was determined--in true Scotch
+fashion--that everybody who could not sing should be goaded to sing.
+
+"Oh, well," said the young man, with a laugh, "you know a student in
+Germany must sing whether he can or not.  And I learned there to smash
+out something like an accompaniment also."
+
+And he went to the piano without more ado and did smash out an
+accompaniment.  And if his voice was rather harsh?--well, we should have
+called it raucous in the case of East Wind, but we only called it manly
+and strenuous when it was Angus Sutherland who sang. And it was a manly
+song, too--a fitting song for our last night on shore, the words hailing
+from the green woods of Fuinary, the air an air that had many a time
+been heard among the western seas.  It was the song of the Biorlinn[#]
+that he sang to us; we could hear the brave chorus and the splash of the
+long oars:--
+
+_Send the biorlinn on careering!_
+_Cheerily and all together--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+_Give her way and show her wake_
+_'Mid showering spray and curling eddies--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+Do we not hear now the measured stroke in the darkness of the morning?
+The water springs from her bows; one by one the headlands are passed.
+But lo! the day is breaking; the dawn will surely bring a breeze with
+it; and then the sail of the gallant craft will bear her over the
+seas:--
+
+_Another cheer, our Isle appears!_
+_Our biorlinn bears her on the faster--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+_Ahead she goes! the land she knows!_
+_Behold! the snowy shores of Canna--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together--_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+A long, strong pull together indeed: who could resist joining in the
+thunder of the chorus? And we were bound for Canna, too: this was our
+last night on shore.
+
+
+[#] _Biorlinn_--that is, a rowing-boat.  The word is pronounced
+_byurlen_.  The song, which in a measure imitates the rhythm peculiar to
+Highland poetry--consisting in a certain repetition of the same vowel
+sounds--is the production of Dr. Macleod, of Morven.  And here, for the
+benefit of any one who minds such things, is a rough draft of the air,
+arranged by a most charming young lady, who, however, says she would
+much rather die than have her name mentioned:--
+
+[Illustration: Music fragments]
+
+
+Our last night on shore.  In such circumstances one naturally has a
+glance round at the people with whom one is to be brought into such
+close contact for many and many a day. But in this particular case, what
+was the use of speculating, or grumbling, or remonstrating? There is a
+certain household that is ruled with a rod of iron.  And if the mistress
+of that household chose to select as her summer companions a "shilpit
+bit thing," and a hard-headed, ambitious Scotch student, and a parochial
+magnate haunted by a heresy-case, how dared one object?  There is such a
+thing as peace and quietness.
+
+But however unpromising the outlook might be, do we not know the remark
+that is usually made by that hard-worked officer, the chief mate, when,
+on the eve of a voyage, he finds himself confronted by an unusually
+mongrel crew?  He regards those loafers and outcasts--from the Bowery,
+and Ratcliffe Highway, and the Broomielaw--Greeks, niggers, and
+Mexicans--with a critical and perhaps scornful air, and forthwith
+proceeds to address them in the following highly polished manner:--
+
+"By etcetera-etcetera, you are an etceteraed rum-looking lot; but
+etcetera-etcetera me _if I don't lick you into shape before we get to
+Rio_."
+
+And so--good-night!--and let all good people pray for fair skies and a
+favouring breeze!  And if there is any song to be heard in our dreams,
+let it be the song of the Queen's Maries--in the low, tender voice of
+Mary Avon:--
+
+_There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,_
+_And Mary Carmichael, and me._
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER VII.*
+
+                              *NORTHWARD.*
+
+
+We have bidden good-bye to the land; the woods and the green hills have
+become pale in the haze of the summer light; we are out here, alone, on
+the shining blue plain.  And if our young Doctor betrays a tendency to
+keep forward--conversing with John of Skye about blocks, and tackle, and
+winches; and if the Laird--whose parental care and regard for Mary Avon
+is becoming beautiful to see--should have quite a monopoly of the young
+lady, and be more bent than ever on amusing her with his "good ones;"
+and if our queen and governor should spend a large portion of her time
+below, in decorating cabins with flowers, in overhauling napery, and in
+earnest consultation with Master Fred about certain culinary mysteries;
+notwithstanding all these divergences of place and occupation, our
+little kingdom afloat is compact enough.  There is always, for example,
+a reassembling at meals. There is an instant community of interest when
+a sudden cry calls all hands on deck to regard some new thing--the
+spouting of a whale or the silvery splashing of a shoal of mackerel.
+But now--but now--if only some cloud-compelling Jove would break this
+insufferably fine weather, and give us a tearing good gale!
+
+It is a strange little kingdom.  It has no postal service.  Shilling
+telegrams are unknown in it; there is no newspaper at breakfast. There
+are no barrel-organs; nor rattling hansoms raising the dust in windy
+streets; there is no afternoon scandal; overheated rooms at midnight are
+a thing of the past.  Serene, independent, self-centred, it minds its
+own affairs; if the whole of Europe were roaring for war, not even an
+echo of the cry would reach us.  We only hear the soft calling of the
+sea-birds as we sit and read, or talk, or smoke; from time to time
+watching the shadows move on the blistering hot decks, or guessing at
+the names of the blue mountains that rise above Loch Etive and Lochaber.
+At the present moment there is a faint summer haze over these mountains;
+as yet we have around us none of the dazzling light and strangely
+intense colours that are peculiar to this part of the world, and that
+are only possible, in fact, in an atmosphere frequently washed clear by
+squalls of rain.  This question of rain turns up at lunch.
+
+"They prayed for rain in the churches last Sunday--so Captain John
+says," Mary Avon remarks.
+
+"The distilleries are stopped: that's very serious," continues the
+Laird.
+
+"Well," says Queen T., "people talk about the rain in the West
+Highlands.  It must be true, as everybody says it is true.  But
+now--excepting the year we went to America with Sylvia Balfour--we have
+been here for five years running; and each year we made up our mind for
+a deluge--thinking we had deserved it, you know.  Well, it never came.
+Look at this now."
+
+And the fact was that we were lying motionless on the smooth bosom of
+the Atlantic, with the sun so hot on the decks that we were glad to get
+below.
+
+"Very strange--very strange, indeed," remarked the Laird, with a
+profound air.  "Now what value are we to put on any historical evidence
+if we find such a conflict of testimony about what is at our own doors?
+How should there be two opeenions about the weather in the West
+Highlands?  It is a matter of common experience--dear me!  I never heard
+the like."
+
+"Oh, but I think we might try to reconcile those diverse opinions!" said
+Angus Sutherland, with an absolute gravity.  "You hear mostly the
+complaints of London people, who make much of a passing shower.  Then
+the tourist and holiday folk, especially from the South, come in the
+autumn, when the fine summer weather has broken.  And then," he added,
+addressing himself with a frank smile to the small creature who had been
+expressing her wonder over the fine weather, "perhaps, if you are
+pleased with your holiday on the whole, you are not anxious to remember
+the wet days; and then you are not afraid of a shower, I know; and
+besides that, when one is yachting, one is more anxious for wind than
+for fine weather."
+
+"Oh, I am sure that is it!" called out Mary Avon quite eagerly.  She did
+not care how she destroyed the Laird's convictions about the value of
+historical evidence.  "That is an explanation of the whole thing."
+
+At this, our young Doctor---who had been professing to treat this matter
+seriously merely as a joke--quickly lowered his eyes.  He scarcely ever
+looked Mary Avon in the face when she spoke to him, or when he had to
+speak to her.  And a little bit of shy embarrassment in his manner
+towards her--perceivable only at times--was all the more singular in a
+man who was shrewd and hard-headed enough, who had knocked about the
+world and seen many persons and things, and who had a fair amount of
+unassuming self-confidence, mingled with a vein of sly and reticent
+humour.  He talked freely enough when he was addressing our
+admiral-in-chief. He was not afraid to meet _her_ eyes.  Indeed, they
+were so familiar friends that she called him by his Christian name--a
+practice which in general she detested.  But she would as soon have
+thought of applying "Mr." to one of her own boys at Epsom College as to
+Angus Sutherland.
+
+"Well, you know, Angus," says she pleasantly, "you have definitely
+promised to go up to the Outer Hebrides with us, and back. The longer
+the calms last, the longer we shall have you.  So we shall gladly put up
+with the fine weather."
+
+"It is very kind of you to say so; but I have already had such a long
+holiday----"
+
+"Oh!" said Mary Avon, with her eyes full of wonder and indignation.  She
+was too surprised to say any more.  She only stared at him.  She knew he
+had been working night and day in Edinburgh.
+
+"I mean," said he hastily, and looking down, "I have been away so long
+from London. Indeed, I was getting rather anxious about my next month's
+number; but luckily, just before I left Edinburgh, a kind friend sent me
+a most valuable paper, so I am quite at ease again.  Would you like to
+read it, sir? It is set up in type."
+
+He took the sheets from his pocket, and handed them to the Laird.
+Denny-mains looked at the title.  It was _On the Radiolarians of the
+Coal Measures_, and it was the production of a well-known professor.
+The Laird handed back the paper without opening it.
+
+"No, thank you," said he, with some dignity. "If I wished to be
+instructed, I would like a safer guide than that man."
+
+We looked with dismay on this dangerous thing that had been brought on
+board: might it not explode and blow up the ship?
+
+"Why," said our Doctor, in unaffected wonder, and entirely mistaking the
+Laird's exclamation, "he is a perfect master of his subject."
+
+"There is a great deal too much speculation nowadays on these matters,
+and parteecularly among the younger men," remarked the Laird severely.
+And he looked at Angus Sutherland. "I suppose now ye are well acquainted
+with the _Vestiges of Creation_?"
+
+"I have heard of the book," said Brose--regretfully confessing his
+ignorance, "but I never happened to see it."
+
+The Laird's countenance lightened.
+
+"So much the better--so much the better. A most mischievous and
+unsettling book.  But all the harm it can do is counteracted by a noble
+work--a conclusive work that leaves nothing to be said.  Ye have read
+the _Testimony of the Rocks_, no doubt?"
+
+"Oh, yes, certainly," our Doctor was glad to be able to say; "but--but
+it was a long time ago--when I was a boy, in fact."
+
+"Boy, or man, you'll get no better book on the history of the earth.  I
+tell ye, sir, I never read a book that placed such firm conviction in my
+mind.  Will ye get any of the new men they are talking about as keen an
+observer and as skilful in arguing as Hugh Miller?  No, no; not one of
+them dares to try to upset the _Testimony of the Rocks_."
+
+Angus Sutherland appealed against this sentence of finality only in a
+very humble way.
+
+"Of course, sir," said he meekly, "you know that science is still moving
+forward----"
+
+"Science?" repeated the Laird.  "Science may be moving forward or moving
+backward; but can it upset the facts of the earth? Science may say what
+it likes; but the facts remain the same."
+
+Now this point was so conclusive that we unanimously hailed the Laird as
+victor.  Our young Doctor submitted with an excellent good humour.  He
+even promised to post that paper on the Radiolarians at the very first
+post-office we might reach: we did not want any such explosive compounds
+on board.
+
+That night we only got as far as Fishnish Bay--a solitary little harbour
+probably down on but few maps; and that we had to reach by getting out
+the gig for a tow.  There was a strange bronze-red in the northern
+skies, long after the sun had set; but in here the shadow of the great
+mountains was on the water.  We could scarcely see the gig; but Angus
+Sutherland had joined the men and was pulling stroke; and along with the
+measured splash of the oars, we heard something about "_Ho, ro,
+clansmen!_"  Then, in the cool night air, there was a slight fragrance
+of peat-smoke; we knew we were getting near the shore.
+
+"He's a fine fellow, that," says the Laird, generously, of his defeated
+antagonist.  "A fine fellow.  His knowledge of different things is just
+remarkable; and he's as modest as a girl.  Ay, and he can row, too; a
+while ago when it was lighter, I could see him put his shoulders into
+it.  Ay, he's a fine, good-natured fellow, and I am glad he has not been
+led astray by that mischievous book, the _Vestiges of Creation_."
+
+Come on board now, boys, and swing up the gig to the davits!  Twelve
+fathoms of chain?--away with her then!--and there is a roar in the
+silence of the lonely little bay. And thereafter silence; and the sweet
+fragrance of the peat in the night air, and the appearance, above the
+black hills, of a clear, shining, golden planet that sends a quivering
+line of light across the water to us.  And, once more, good-night and
+pleasant dreams!
+
+But what is this in the morning?  There have been no pleasant dreams for
+John of Skye and his merry men during the last night; for here we are
+already between Mingary Bay and Ru-na-Gaul Lighthouse; and before us is
+the open Atlantic, blue under the fair skies of the morning.  And here
+is Dr. Sutherland, at the tiller, with a suspiciously negligent look
+about his hair and shirt-collar.
+
+"I have been up since four," says he, with a laugh.  "I heard them
+getting under way, and did not wish to miss anything.  You know these
+places are not so familiar to me as they are to you."
+
+"Is there going to be any wind to-day, John?"
+
+"No mich," says John of Skye, looking at the cloudless blue vault above
+the glassy sweeps of the sea.
+
+Nevertheless, as the morning goes by, we get as much of a breeze as
+enables us to draw away from the mainland--round Ardnamurchan ("the
+headland of the great sea") and out into the open--with Muick Island,
+and the sharp Scuir of Eigg, and the peaks of Rum lying over there on
+the still Atlantic, and far away in the north the vast and spectral
+mountains of Skye.
+
+And now the work of the day begins.  Mary Avon, for mere shame's sake,
+is at last compelled to produce one of her blank canvases and open her
+box of tubes.  And now it would appear that Angus Sutherland--though
+deprived of the authority of the sick-room--is beginning to lose his
+fear of the English young lady.  He makes himself useful--not with the
+elaborate and patronising courtesy of the Laird, but in a sort of
+submissive, matter-of-fact shifty fashion.  He sheathes the spikes of
+her easel with cork so that they shall not mark the deck.  He rigs up,
+to counterbalance that lack of stability, a piece of cord with a heavy
+weight.  Then, with the easel fixed, he fetches her a deck-chair to sit
+in, and a deck-stool for her colours, and these and her he places under
+the lee of the foresail, to be out of the glare of the sun.  Thus our
+artist is started; she is going to make a sketch of the after-part of
+the yacht with Hector of Moidart at the tiller: beyond, the calm blue
+seas, and a faint promontory of land.
+
+Then the Laird--having confidentially remarked to Miss Avon that Tom
+Galbraith, than whom there is no greater authority living, invariably
+moistens the fresh canvas with megilp before beginning work--has turned
+to the last report of the Semple case.
+
+"No, no," says he to our sovereign lady, who is engaged in some
+mysterious work in wool, "it does not look well for the Presbytery to go
+over every one of the charges in the major proposeetion--supported by
+the averments in the minor--only to find them irrelevant; and then bring
+home to him the part of the libel that deals with tendency.  No, no;
+that shows a lamentable want of purpose.  In view of the great danger to
+be apprehended from these secret assaults on the inspiration of the
+Scriptures, they should have stuck to each charge with tenahcity.  Now,
+I will just show ye where Dr. Carnegie, in defending
+_Secundo_--illustrated as it was with the extracts and averments in the
+minor--let the whole thing slip through his fingers."
+
+But if any one were disposed to be absolutely idle on this calm,
+shining, beautiful day--far away from the cares and labours of the land?
+Out on the taffrail, under shadow of the mizen, there is a seat that is
+gratefully cool.  The Mare of the sea no longer bewilders the eyes; one
+can watch with a lazy enjoyment the teeming life of the open Atlantic.
+The great skarts go whizzing by, long-necked, rapid of flight.  The
+gannets poise in the air, and then there is a sudden dart downwards, and
+a spout of water flashes up where the bird has dived.  The guillemots
+fill the silence with their soft kurrooing--and here they are on all
+sides of us--_Kirroo! Kurroo!_--dipping their bills in the water,
+hastening away from the vessel, and then rising on the surface to flap
+their wings.  But this is a strange thing: they are all in
+pairs--obviously mother and child--and the mother calls _Kurroo!
+Kurroo!_--and the young one unable as yet to dive or swim, answers
+_Pe-yoo-it!  Pe-yoo-it!_ and flutters and paddles after her.  But where
+is the father?  And has the guillemot only one of a family?  Over that
+one, at all events, she exercises a valiant protection.  Even though the
+stem of the yacht seems likely to run both of them down, she will
+neither dive nor fly until she has piloted the young one out of danger.
+
+Then a sudden cry startles the Laird from his heresy-case and Mary Avon
+from her canvas.  A sound far away has turned all eyes to the north;
+though there is nothing visible there, over the shining calm of the sea,
+but a small cloud of white spray that slowly sinks.  In a second or two,
+however, we see another jet of white water arise; and then a great brown
+mass heave slowly over; and then we hear the spouting of the whale.
+
+"What a huge animal!" cries one.  "A hundred feet!"
+
+"Eighty, any way!"
+
+The whale is sheering off to the north: there is less and less chance of
+our forming any correct estimate.
+
+"Oh, I am sure it was a hundred!  Don't you think so, Angus?" says our
+admiral.
+
+"Well," says the Doctor, slowly--pretending to be very anxious about
+keeping the sails full (when there was no wind)--"you know there is a
+great difference between 'yacht measurement' and 'registered tonnage.'
+A vessel of fifty registered tons may become eighty or ninety by yacht
+measurement.  And I have often noticed," continues this graceless young
+man, who takes no thought how he is bringing contempt on his elders,
+"that objects seen from the deck of a yacht are naturally subject to
+'yacht measurement.'  I don't know what the size of that whale may be.
+Its registered tonnage, I suppose, would be the number of Jonahs it
+could carry.  But I should think that if the apparent 'yacht
+measurement' was a hundred feet, the whale was probably about twenty
+feet long."
+
+It was thus he tried to diminish the marvels of the deep!  But, however
+he might crush us otherwise, we were his masters on one point. The
+Semple heresy-case was too deep even for him.  What could he make of
+"_the first alternative of the general major_"?
+
+And see now, on this calm summer evening, we pass between Muick and
+Eigg; and the sea is like a plain of gold.  As we draw near the sombre
+mass of Rum, the sunset deepens, and a strange lurid mist hangs around
+this remote and mountainous island rising sheer from the Atlantic.
+Gloomy and mysterious are the vast peaks of Haleval and Haskeval; we
+creep under them--favoured by a flood-tide--and the silence of the
+desolate shores seems to spread out from them and to encompass us.
+
+Mary Avon has long ago put away her canvas; she sits and watches; and
+her soft black eyes are full of dreaming as she gazes up at those
+thunder-dark mountains against the rosy haze of the west.
+
+"Haleval and Haskeval?" Angus Sutherland repeats, in reply to his
+hostess; but he starts all the same, for he has been covertly regarding
+the dark and wistful eyes of the girl sitting there.  "Oh, these are
+Norse names.  Scuir na Gillean, on the other hand, is Gaelic--it is _the
+peak of the young men_.  Perhaps, the Norsemen had the north of the
+island, and the Celts the south."
+
+Whether they were named by Scandinavian or by Celt, Haleval and Haskeval
+seemed to overshadow us with their sultry gloom as we slowly glided into
+the lonely loch lying at their base.  We were the only vessel there; and
+we could make out no sign of life on shore, until the glass revealed to
+us one or two half-ruined cottages.  The northern twilight shone in the
+sky far into the night; but neither that clear metallic glow, nor any
+radiance from moon, or planet, or star, seemed to affect the
+thunder-darkness of Haskeval and Haleval's silent peaks.
+
+There was another tale to tell below--the big saloon aglow with candles;
+the white table-cover with its centre-piece of roses, nasturtiums, and
+ferns; the delayed dinner, or supper, or whatever it might be called,
+all artistically arranged; our young Doctor most humbly solicitous that
+Mary Avon should be comfortably seated, and, in fact, quite usurping the
+office of the Laird in that respect; and then a sudden sound in the
+galley, a hissing as of a thousand squibs, telling us that Master Fred
+had once more and ineffectually tried to suppress the released genie of
+the bottle by jamming down the cork. Forthwith the Laird, with his
+old-fashioned ways, must needs propose a health, which is that of our
+most sovereign and midge-like mistress; and this he does with an
+elaborate and gracious and sonorous courtesy.  And surely there is no
+reason why Mary Avon should not for once break her habit and join in
+that simple ceremony; especially when it is a real live Doctor--and not
+only a Doctor, but an encyclopaedia of scientific and all other
+knowledge--who would fain fill her glass? Angus Sutherland timidly but
+seriously pleads; and he does not plead in vain; and you would think
+from his look that she had conferred an extraordinary favour on him.
+Then we--we propose a health too--the health of the FOUR WINDS! and we
+do not care which of them it is who is coming to-morrow, so long as he
+or she comes in force.  Blow, breezes, blow!--from the Coolins of Skye,
+or the shores of Coll, or the glens of Arisaig and Moidart--for
+to-morrow morning we shake out once more the white wings of the _White
+Dove_, and set forth for the loneliness of the northern seas.
+
+
+
+
+                            *CHAPTER VIII.*
+
+                       *PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS.*
+
+
+Now the Laird has a habit--laudable or not--of lingering over an
+additional half-cup at breakfast, as an excuse for desultory talk; and
+thus it is, on this particular morning, the young people having gone on
+deck to see the yacht get under way, that Denny-mains has a chance of
+revealing to us certain secret schemes of his over which he has
+apparently been brooding. How could we have imagined that all this
+plotting and planning had been going on beneath the sedate exterior of
+the Commissioner for the Burgh of Strathgovan?
+
+"She's just a wonderful bit lass!" he says, confidently, to his hostess;
+"as happy and contented as the day is long; and when she's not singing
+to herself, her way of speech has a sort of--a sort of music in it that
+is quite new to me.  Yes, I must admit that; I did not know that the
+southern English tongue was so accurate and pleasant to the ear.  Ay,
+but what will become of her?"
+
+What, indeed!  The lady whom he was addressing had often spoken to him
+of Mary Avon's isolated position in the world.
+
+"It fairly distresses me," continues the good-hearted Laird, "when I
+think of her condeetion--not at present, when she has, if I may be
+allowed to say so, _several_ friends near her who would be glad to do
+what they could for her; but by and by, when she is becoming older----"
+
+The Laird hesitated.  Was it possible, after all, that he was about to
+hint at the chance of Mary Avon becoming the mistress of the mansion and
+estate of Denny-mains?  Then he made a plunge.
+
+"A young woman in her position should have a husband to protect her,
+that is what I am sure of.  Have ye never thought of it, ma'am?"
+
+"I should like very well to see Mary married," says the other, demurely.
+"And I know she would make an excellent wife."
+
+"An excellent wife!" exclaims the Laird; and then he adds, with a tone
+approaching to severity, "I tell ye he will be a fortunate man that gets
+her.  Oh, ay; I have watched her. I can keep my eyes open when there is
+need. Did you hear her asking the captain about his wife and children?
+I tell you there's _human nature_ in that lass."
+
+There was no need for the Laird to be so pugnacious; we were not
+contesting the point. However, he resumed--
+
+"I have been thinking," said he, with a little more shyness, "about my
+nephew.  He's a good lad.  Well, ye know, ma'am, that I do not approve
+of young men being brought up in idleness, whatever their prospects must
+be; and I have no doubt whatever that my nephew Howard is working hard
+enough--what with the reading of law-books, and attending the courts,
+and all that--though as yet he has not had much business.  But then
+there is no necessity. I do not think he is a lad of any great
+ambeetion, like your friend Mr. Sutherland, who has to fight his way in
+the world in any case.  But Howard--I have been thinking now that if he
+was to get married and settled, he might give up the law business
+altogether; and, if they were content to live in Scotland, he might look
+after Denny-mains.  It will be his in any case, ye know; he would have
+the interest of a man looking after his own property.  Now, I will tell
+ye plainly, ma'am, what I have been thinking about this day or two back;
+if Howard would marry your young lady friend, that would be agreeable to
+me."
+
+The calm manner in which the Laird announced his scheme showed that it
+had been well matured.  It was a natural, simple, feasible arrangement,
+by which two persons in whom he took a warm interest would be benefited
+at once.
+
+"But then, sir," said his hostess, with a smile which she could not
+wholly repress, "you know people never do marry to please a third
+person--at least, very seldom."
+
+"Oh, there can be no forcing," said the Laird with decision.  "But I
+have done a great deal for Howard; may I not expect that he will do
+something for me?"
+
+"Oh, doubtless, doubtless," says this amiable lady, who has had some
+experience in match-making herself; "but I have generally found that
+marriages that would be in every way suitable and pleasing to friends,
+and obviously desirable, are precisely the marriages that never come
+off.  Young people, when they are flung at each other's heads, to use
+the common phrase, never will be sensible and please their relatives.
+Now if you were to bring your nephew here, do you think Mary would fall
+in love with him because she ought?  More likely you would find that,
+out of pure contrariety, she would fall in love with Angus Sutherland,
+who cannot afford to marry, and whose head is filled with other things."
+
+"I am not sure, I am not sure," said the Laird, musingly.  "Howard is a
+good-looking young fellow, and a capital lad, too.  I am not so sure."
+
+"And then, you know," said the other shyly, for she will not plainly say
+anything to Mary's disparagement, "young men have different tastes in
+their choice of a wife.  He might not have the high opinion of her that
+you have."
+
+At this the Laird gave a look of surprise--even of resentment.
+
+"Then I'll tell ye what it is, ma'am," said he, almost angrily; "if my
+nephew had the chance of marrying such a girl, and did not do so, I
+should consider him--I should consider him _a fool_, and say so."
+
+And then he added, sharply--
+
+"And do ye think I would let Denny-mains pass into the hands of _a
+fool_?"
+
+Now this kind lady had had no intention of rousing the wrath of the
+Laird in this manner; and she instantly set about pacifying him.  And
+the Laird was easily pacified.  In a minute or two he was laughing
+good-naturedly at himself for getting into a passion; he said it would
+not do for one at his time of life to try to play the part of the stern
+father as they played that in theatre pieces--there was to be no
+forcing.
+
+"But he's a good lad, ma'am, a good lad," said he, rising as his hostess
+rose; and he added, significantly, "he is no fool, I assure ye, ma'am;
+he has plenty of common sense."
+
+When we get up on deck again, we find that the _White Dove_ is gently
+gliding out of the lonely Loch Scresorst, with its solitary house among
+the trees, and its crofters' huts at the base of the sombre hills.  And
+as the light cool breeze--gratefully cool after the blazing heat of the
+last day or two--carries us away northward, we see more and more of the
+awful solitudes of Haleval and Haskeval, that are still thunderous and
+dark under the hazy sky. Above the great shoulders, and under the purple
+peaks, we see the far-reaching corries opening up, with here and there a
+white waterfall just visible in the hollows.  There is a sense of escape
+as we draw away from that overshadowing gloom.
+
+Then we discover that we have a new skipper to-day, _vice_ John of Skye,
+deposed. The fresh hand is Mary Avon, who is at the tiller, and looking
+exceedingly business-like. She has been promoted to this post by Dr.
+Sutherland, who stands by; she receives explanations about the procedure
+of Hector of Moidart, who is up aloft, lacing the smaller topsail to the
+mast; she watches the operations of John of Skye and Sandy, who are at
+the sheets below; and, like a wise and considerate captain, she pretends
+not to notice Master Fred, who is having a quiet smoke by the windlass.
+And so, past those lonely shores sails the brave vessel--the yawl _White
+Dove_, Captain Mary Avon, bound for anywhere.
+
+But you must not imagine that the new skipper is allowed to stand by the
+tiller. Captain though she may be, she has to submit civilly to
+dictation, in so far as her foot is concerned, Our young Doctor has
+compelled her to be seated, and he has passed a rope round the tiller
+that so she can steer from her chair, and from time to time he gives
+suggestions, which she receives as orders.
+
+"I wish I had been with you when you first sprained your foot," he says.
+
+"Yes?" she answers, with humble inquiry in her eyes.
+
+"I would have put it in plaster of Paris," he says, in a matter-of-fact
+way, "and locked you up in the house for a fortnight; at the end of that
+time you would not know which ankle was the sprained one."
+
+There was neither "with your leave" nor "by your leave" in this young
+man's manner when he spoke of that accident.  He would have taken
+possession of her.  He would have discarded your bandages and hartshorn,
+and what not; when it was Mary Avon's foot that was concerned--it was
+intimated to us--he would have had his own way in spite of all comers.
+
+"I wish I had known," she says, timidly, meaning that it was the
+treatment she wished she had known.
+
+"There is a more heroic remedy," said he, with a smile; "and that is
+walking the sprain off.  I believe that can be done, but most people
+would shrink from the pain.  Of course, if it were done at all, it would
+be done by a woman; women can bear pain infinitely better than men."
+
+"Oh, do you think so!" she says, in mild protest.  "Oh, I am sure not.
+Men are so much braver than women, so much stronger----"
+
+But this gentle quarrel is suddenly stopped, for some one calls
+attention to a deer that is calmly browsing on one of the high slopes
+above that rocky shore, and instantly all glasses are in request.  It is
+a hind, with a beautifully shaped head and slender legs; she takes no
+notice of the passing craft, but continues her feeding, walking a few
+steps onward from time to time.  In this way she reaches the edge of a
+gully in the rugged cliffs where there is some brushwood, and probably a
+stream; into this she sedately descends, and we see her no more.
+
+Then there is another cry; what is this cloud ahead, or waterspout
+resting on the calm bosom of the sea?  Glasses again in request, amid
+many exclamations, reveal to us that this is a dense cloud of birds; a
+flock so vast that towards the water it seems black; can it be the dead
+body of a whale that has collected this world of wings from all the
+Northern seas?  Hurry on, _White Dove_; for the floating cloud with the
+black base is moving and seething--in fantastic white fumes, as it
+were--in the loveliness of this summer day. And now, as we draw nearer,
+we can descry that there is no dead body of a whale causing that
+blackness; but only the density of the mass of seafowl.  And nearer and
+nearer as we draw, behold! the great gannets swooping down in such
+numbers that the sea is covered with a mist of waterspouts; and the air
+is filled with innumerable cries; and we do not know what to make of
+this bewildering, fluttering, swimming, screaming mass of terns,
+guillemots, skarts, kittiwakes, razorbills, puffins, and gulls.  But
+they draw away again.  The herring-shoal is moving northward.  The
+murmur of cries becomes more remote, and the seething cloud of the
+sea-birds is slowly dispersing.  When the _White Dove_ sails up to the
+spot at which this phenomenon was first seen, there is nothing visible
+but a scattered assemblage of guillemots--_kurroo! kurroo!_ answered by
+_pe-yoo-it! pe-yoo-it!_--and great gannets--"as big as a sheep," says
+John of Skye--apparently so gorged that they lie on the water within
+stone's-throw of the yacht, before spreading out their long, snow-white,
+black-tipped wings to bear them away over the sea.
+
+And now, as we are altering our course to the west--far away to our
+right stand the vast Coolins of Skye--we sail along the northern shores
+of Rum.  There is no trace of any habitation visible; nothing but the
+precipitous cliffs, and the sandy bays, and the outstanding rocks dotted
+with rows of shining black skarts. When Mary Avon asks why those sandy
+bays should be so red, and why a certain ruddy warmth of colour should
+shine through even the patches of grass, our F.R.S. begins to speak of
+powdered basalt rubbed down from the rocks above.  He would have her
+begin another sketch, but she is too proud of her newly acquired
+knowledge to forsake the tiller.
+
+The wind is now almost dead aft, and we have a good deal of gybing.
+Other people might think that all this gybing was an evidence of bad
+steering on the part of our new skipper; but Angus Sutherland--and we
+cannot contradict an F.R.S.--assures Miss Avon that she is doing
+remarkably well; and, as he stands by to lay hold of the main sheet when
+the boom swings over, we are not in much danger of carrying away either
+port or starboard davits.
+
+"Do you know," says he lightly, "I sometimes think I ought to apply for
+the post of surgeon on board a man-of-war?  That would just suit me----"
+
+"Oh, I hope you will not," she blurts out quite inadvertently; and
+thereafter there is a deep blush on her face.
+
+"I should enjoy it immensely, I know," says he, wholly ignorant of her
+embarrassment, because he is keeping an eye on the sails. "I believe I
+should have more pleasure in life that way than any other----"
+
+"But you do not live for your own pleasure," says she hastily, perhaps
+to cover her confusion.
+
+"I have no one else to live for, any way," says he, with a laugh; and
+then he corrected himself.  "Oh, yes, I have.  My father is a sad
+heretic.  He has fallen away from the standards of his faith; he has set
+up idols--the diplomas and medals I have got from time to time.  He has
+them all arranged in his study, and I have heard that he positively sits
+down before them and worships them. When I sent him the medal from
+Vienna--it was only bronze--he returned to me his Greek Testament, that
+he had interleaved and annotated when he was a student; I believe it was
+his greatest possession."
+
+"And you would give up all that he expects from you to go away and be a
+doctor on board a ship!" says Mary Avon, with some proud emphasis.
+"That would not be my ambition if I were a man, and--and--if I
+had--if----"
+
+Well, she could not quite say to Brose's face what she thought of his
+powers and prospects; so she suddenly broke away and said--
+
+"Yes; you would go and do that for your own amusement?  And what would
+the amusement be?  Do you think they would let the doctor interfere with
+the sailing of the ship?"
+
+"Well," said he, laughing, "that is a practical objection.  I don't
+suppose the captain of a man-of-war or even of a merchant vessel would
+be as accommodating as your John of Skye.  Captain John has his
+compensation when he is relieved; he can go forward, and light his
+pipe."
+
+"Well, I think for _your father's sake_," says Miss Avon, with decision,
+"you had better put that idea out of your head, once and for all."
+
+Now blow, breezes, blow!  What is the great headland that appears,
+striking out into the wide Atlantic?
+
+_Ahead she goes! the land she knows!_
+_Behold! the snowy shores of Canna!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+
+"Tom Galbraith," the Laird is saying solemnly to his hostess, "has
+assured me that Rum is the most picturesque island on the whole of the
+western coast of Scotland.  That is his deleeberate opinion.  And indeed
+I would not go so far as to say he was wrong.  Arran! They talk about
+Arran!  Just look at those splendid mountains coming sheer down to the
+sea; and the light of the sun on them!  Eh me, what a sunset there will
+be this night!"
+
+"Canna?" says Dr. Sutherland, to his interlocutor, who seems very
+anxious to be instructed.  "Oh, I don't know.  _Canna_ in Gaelic is
+simply a can; but then _Cana_ is a whale; and the island in the distance
+looks long and flat on the water.  Or it may be from _canach_--that is,
+the moss-cotton; or from _cannach_--that is, the sweet-gale. You see,
+Miss Avon, ignorant people have an ample choice."
+
+Blow! breezes blow! as the yellow light of the afternoon shines over the
+broad Atlantic. Here are the eastern shores of Canna, high and rugged,
+and dark with caves; and there the western shores of Rum, the mighty
+mountains aglow in the evening light.  And this remote and solitary
+little bay, with its green headlands, and its awkward rocks at the
+mouth, and the one house presiding over it amongst that shining
+wilderness of shrubs and flowers? Here is fair shelter for the night.
+
+After dinner, in the lambent twilight, we set out with the gig; and
+there was much preparation of elaborate contrivances for the entrapping
+of fish.  But the Laird's occult and intricate tackle--the spinning
+minnows, and spoons, and india-rubber sand-eels--proved no competitor
+for the couple of big white flies that Angus Sutherland had busked.  And
+of course Mary Avon had that rod; and when some huge lithe dragged the
+end of the rod fairly under water, and when she cried aloud, "Oh! oh! I
+can't hold it; he'll break the rod!" then arose our Doctor's word of
+command:--
+
+"Haul him in!  Shove out the butt!  No scientific playing with a lithe!
+Well done!--well done!--a five-pounder I'll bet ten farthings!"
+
+It was not scientific fishing; but we got big fish--which is of more
+importance in the eyes of Master Fred.  And then, as the night fell, we
+set out again for the yacht; and the Doctor pulled stroke; and he sang
+some more verses of the _biorlinn_ song as the blades dashed fire into
+the rushing sea:--
+
+_Proudly o'er the waves we'll bound her,_
+_As the staghound bounds the heather!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+_Through the eddying tide we'll guide her,_
+_Round each isle and breezy headland,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+The yellow lamp at the bow of the yacht grew larger and larger; the hull
+of the boat looked black between us and the starlit heavens; as we
+clambered on board there was a golden glow from the saloon skylight. And
+then, during the long and happy evening, amid all the whist-playing and
+other amusements going forward, what about certain timid courtesies and
+an occasional shy glance between those two young people?  Some of us
+began to think that if the Laird's scheme was to come to anything, it
+was high time that Mr. Howard Smith put in an appearance.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER IX.*
+
+                            *A WILD STUDIO.*
+
+
+There is a fine bustle of preparation next morning--for the gig is
+waiting by the side of the yacht; and Dr. Sutherland is carefully
+getting our artist's materials into the stern; and the Laird is busy
+with shawls and waterproofs; and Master Fred brings along the
+luncheon-basket.  Our Admiral-in-chief prefers to stay on board; she has
+letters to write; there are enough of us to go and be tossed on the
+Atlantic swell off the great caves of Canna.
+
+And as the men strike their oars in the water and we wave a last adieu,
+the Laird catches a glimpse of our larder at the stern of the yacht.
+Alas! there is but one remaining piece of fresh meat hanging there,
+under the white canvas.
+
+"It reminds me," says he, beginning to laugh already, "of a good one
+that Tom Galbraith told me--a real good one that was.  Tom had a little
+bit yacht that his man and himself sailed when he was painting, ye know;
+and one day they got into a bay where Duncan--that was the man's
+name--had some friends ashore.  Tom left him in charge of the yacht;
+and--and--ha! ha! ha!--there was a leg of mutton hanging at the stern.
+Well, Tom was rowed ashore; and painted all day; and came back to the
+yacht in the afternoon. _There was no leg of mutton_!  'Duncan,' says
+he, 'where is the leg of mutton?'  Duncan pretended to be vastly
+surprised.  'Iss it away?' says he.  'Away?' says Tom.  'Don't you see
+it is away?  I want to know who took it!'  Duncan looked all round
+him--at the sea and the sky--and then says he--then says he, 'Maybe it
+wass a dog!'--ha! ha! hee! hee! hee!--'maybe it wass a dog,' says he;
+and they were half a mile from the shore! I never see the canvas at the
+stern of a yacht without thinking o' Tom Galbraith and the leg of
+mutton;" and here the Laird laughed long and loud again.
+
+"I have heard you speak once or twice about Tom Galbraith," remarked our
+young Doctor, without meaning the least sarcasm; "he is an artist, I
+suppose?"
+
+The Laird stopped laughing.  There was a look of indignant
+wonder--approaching to horror--on his face.  But when he proceeded, with
+some dignity and even resentment, to explain to this ignorant person the
+immense importance of the school that Tom Galbraith had been chiefly
+instrumental in forming; and the high qualities of that artist's
+personal work; and how the members of the Royal Academy shook in their
+shoes at the mere mention of Tom Galbraith's name, he became more
+pacified; for Angus Sutherland listened with great respect, and even
+promised to look out for Mr. Galbraith's work if he passed through
+Edinburgh on his way to the south.
+
+The long, swinging stroke of the men soon took us round the successive
+headlands until we were once more in the open, with the mountains of
+Skye in the north, and, far away at the horizon, a pale line which we
+knew to be North Uist.  And now the green shores of Canna were becoming
+more precipitous; and there was a roaring of the sea along the spurs of
+black rock; and the long Atlantic swell, breaking on the bows of the
+gig, was sending a little more spray over us than was at all desirable.
+Certainly no one who could have seen the Doctor at this moment--with his
+fresh-coloured face dripping with the salt water and shining in the
+sunlight--would have taken him for a hard-worked and anxious student.
+His hard work was pulling stroke-oar, and he certainly put his shoulders
+into it, as the Laird had remarked; and his sole anxiety was about Mary
+Avon's art-materials.  That young lady shook the water from the two
+blank canvases, and declared it did not matter a bit.
+
+These lonely cliffs!--becoming more grim and awful every moment, as this
+mite of a boat still wrestles with the great waves, and makes its way
+along the coast.  And yet there are tender greens where the pasturage
+appears on the high plateaus; and there is a soft ruddy hue where the
+basalt shines.  The gloom of the picture appears below--in the caves
+washed out of the conglomerate by the heavy seas; in the spurs and
+fantastic pillars and arches of the black rock; and in this leaden-hued
+Atlantic springing high over every obstacle to go roaring and booming
+into the caverns.  And these innumerable white specks on the sparse
+green plateaus and on this high promontory: can they be mushrooms in
+millions?  Suddenly one of the men lifts his oar from the rowlock, and
+rattles it on the gunwale of the gig.  At this sound a cloud rises from
+the black rocks; it spreads; the next moment the air is darkened over
+our heads; and almost before we know what has happened, this vast
+multitude of puffins has wheeled by us, and wheeled again further out to
+sea--a smoke of birds!  And as we watch them, behold! stragglers come
+back--in thousands upon thousands--the air is filled with them--some of
+them swooping so near us that we can see the red parrot-like beak and
+the orange-hued web-feet, and then again the green shelves of grass and
+the pinnacles of rock become dotted with those white specks.  The
+myriads of birds; the black caverns; the arches and spurs of rock; the
+leaden-hued Atlantic bounding and springing in white foam: what says
+Mary Avon to that?  Has she the courage?
+
+"If you can put me ashore?" says she.
+
+"Oh, we will get you ashore, somehow," Dr. Sutherland answers.
+
+But, indeed, the nearer we approach that ugly coast the less we like the
+look of it. Again and again we make for what should be a sheltered bit;
+but long before we can get to land we can see through the plunging sea
+great masses of yellow, which we know to be the barnacled rock; and then
+ahead we find a shore that, in this heavy surf, would make match-wood of
+the gig in three seconds.  Our Doctor, however, will not give in.  If he
+cannot get the gig on to any beach or into any creek, he will land our
+artist somehow.  And at last--and in spite of the remonstrances of John
+of Skye--he insists on having the boat backed in to a projecting mass of
+conglomerate, all yellowed over with small shell-fish, against which the
+sea is beating heavily.  It is an ugly landing-place; we can see the
+yellow rock go sheer down in the clear green sea; and the surf is
+spouting up the side in white jets.  But if she can watch a high wave,
+and put her foot there--and there--will she not find herself directly on
+a plateau of rock at least twelve feet square?
+
+"Back her, John!--back her!--" and therewith the Doctor, watching his
+chance, scrambles out and up to demonstrate the feasibility of the
+thing.  And the easel is handed out to him; and the palette and
+canvases; and finally Mary Avon herself.  Nay, even the Laird will
+adventure, sending on before him the luncheon-basket.
+
+It is a strange studio--this projecting shell-crusted rock, surrounded
+on three sides by the sea, and on the fourth by an impassable cliff. And
+the sounds beneath our feet--there must be some subterranean passage or
+cave into which the sea roars and booms.  But Angus Sutherland rigs up
+the easel rapidly; and arranges the artist's camp-stool; and sets her
+fairly agoing; then he proposes to leave the Laird in charge of her.  He
+and the humble chronicler of the adventures of these people mean to have
+some further exploration of this wild coast.
+
+But we had hardly gone a quarter of a mile or so--it was hard work
+pulling in this heavy sea--when the experienced eye of Sandy from Islay
+saw that something was wrong.
+
+"What's that?" he said, staring.
+
+We turned instantly, and strove to look through the mists of spray.
+Where we had left the Laird and Mary Avon there were now visible only
+two mites, apparently not bigger than puffins.  But is not one of the
+puffins gesticulating wildly?
+
+"Round with her, John!" the Doctor calls out.  "They want us--I'm sure."
+
+And away the gig goes again--plunging into the great troughs and then
+swinging up to the giddy crests.  And as we get nearer and nearer, what
+is the meaning of the Laird's frantic gestures?  We cannot understand
+him; and it is impossible to hear, for the booming of the sea into the
+caves drowns his voice.
+
+"He has lost his hat," says Angus Sutherland; and then, the next second,
+"Where's the easel?"
+
+Then we understand those wild gestures. Pull away, merry men! for has
+not a squall swept the studio of its movables?  And there, sure enough,
+tossing high and low on the waves, we descry a variety of things--an
+easel, two canvases, a hat, a veil, and what not.  Up with the boat-hook
+to the bow; and gently with those plunges, you eager Hector of Moidart!
+
+"I am so sorry," she says (or rather shrieks), when her dripping
+property is restored to her.
+
+"It was my fault," our Doctor yells; "but I will undertake to fasten
+your easel properly this time"--and therewith he fetches a lump of rock
+that might have moored a man-of-war.
+
+We stay and have luncheon in this gusty and thunderous studio--though
+Mary Avon will scarcely turn from her canvas.  And there is no painting
+of pink geraniums about this young woman's work.  We see already that
+she has got a thorough grip of this cold, hard coast (the sun is
+obscured now, and the various hues are more sombre than ever); and,
+though she has not had time as yet to try to catch the motion of the
+rolling sea, she has got the colour of it--a leaden-grey, with glints of
+blue and white, and with here and there a sudden splash of deep, rich,
+glassy, bottle green, where some wave for a moment catches, just as it
+gets to the shore, a reflection from the grass plateaus above.  Very
+good, Miss Avon; very good--but we pretend that we are not looking.
+
+Then away we go again, to leave the artist to her work; and we go as
+near as possible--the high sea will not allow us to enter--the vast
+black caverns; and we watch through the clear water for those masses of
+yellow rock. And then the multitudes of white-breasted, red-billed birds
+perched up there--close to the small burrows in the scant grass; they
+jerk their heads about in a watchful way just like the prairie-dogs at
+the mouth of their sandy habitations on the Colorado plains.  And then
+again a hundred or two of them come swooping down from the rocky
+pinnacles and sail over our heads--twinkling bits of colour between the
+grey-green sea and the blue-and-white of the sky.  They resent the
+presence of strangers in this far-home of the sea-birds.
+
+It is a terrible business getting that young lady and her paraphernalia
+back into the gig again; for the sea is still heavy, and, of course,
+additional care has now to be taken of the precious canvas.  But at last
+she, and the Laird, and the luncheon-basket, and everything else have
+been got on board; and away we go for the yacht again, in the now
+clearing afternoon.  As we draw further away from the roar of the caves,
+it is more feasible to talk; and naturally we are all very complimentary
+about Mary Avon's sketch in oils.
+
+"Ay," says the Laird, "and it wants but one thing; and I am sure I could
+get Tom Galbraith to put that in for you.  A bit of a yacht, ye know, or
+other sailing vessel, put below the cliffs, would give people a notion
+of the height of the cliffs, do ye see?  I am sure I could get Tom
+Galbraith to put that in for ye."
+
+"I hope Miss Avon won't let Tom Galbraith or anybody else meddle with
+the picture." says Angus Sutherland, with some emphasis. "Why, a yacht!
+Do you think anybody would let a yacht come close to rocks like these!
+As soon as you introduce any making-up like that, the picture is a sham.
+It is the real thing now, as it stands.  Twenty years hence you could
+take up that piece of canvas, and there before you would be the very day
+that you spent here--it would be like finding your old life of twenty
+years before opened up to you with a lightning-flash.  The picture
+is--why I should say it is invaluable, as it stands."
+
+At this somewhat fierce praise, Mary Avon colours a little.  And then
+she says with a gentle hypocrisy--
+
+"Oh, do you really think there is--there is--some likeness to the
+place?"
+
+"It is the place itself!" says he warmly.
+
+"Because," she says, timidly, and yet with a smile, "one likes to have
+one's work appreciated, however stupid it may be.  And--and--if you
+think that--would you like to have it?  Because I should be so proud if
+you would take it--only I am ashamed to offer my sketches to
+anybody----"
+
+"That!" said he, staring at the canvas as if the mines of Golconda were
+suddenly opened to him.  But then he drew back.  "Oh, no," he said; "you
+are very kind--but--but, you know, I cannot.  You would think I had been
+asking for it."
+
+"Well," says Miss Avon, still looking down, "I never was treated like
+this before.  You won't take it?  You don't think it is worth putting in
+your portmanteau?"
+
+At this the young Doctor's face grew very red; but he said boldly--
+
+"Very well, now, if you have been playing fast and loose, you shall be
+punished.  I _will_ take the picture, whether you grudge it me or not.
+And I don't mean to give it up now."
+
+"Oh," said she, very gently, "if it reminds you of the place, I shall be
+very pleased--and--and it may remind you too that I am not likely to
+forget your kindness to poor Mrs. Thompson."
+
+And so this little matter was amicably settled--though the Laird looked
+with a covetous eye on that rough sketch of the rocks of Canna, and
+regretted that he was not to be allowed to ask Tom Galbraith to put in a
+touch or two. And so back to the yacht, and to dinner in the silver
+clear evening; and how beautiful looked this calm bay of Canna, with its
+glittering waters and green shores, after the grim rocks and the heavy
+Atlantic waves!
+
+That evening we pursued the innocent lithe again--our larder was
+becoming terribly empty--and there was a fine take.  But of more
+interest to some of us than the big fish was the extraordinary wonder of
+colour in sea and sky when the sun had gone down; and there was a wail
+on the part of the Laird that Mary Avon had not her colours with her to
+put down some jotting for further use.  Or if on paper: might not she
+write down something of what she saw; and experiment thereafter?  Well,
+if any artist can make head or tail of words in such a case as this,
+here they are for him--as near as our combined forces of observation
+could go.
+
+The vast plain of water around us a blaze of salmon-red--with the waves
+(catching the reflection of the zenith) marked in horizontal lines of
+blue.  The great headland of Canna, between us and the western sky, a
+mass of dark, intense olive-green.  The sky over that a pale, clear
+lemon-yellow.  But the great feature of this evening scene was a mass of
+cloud that stretched all across the heavens--a mass of flaming,
+thunderous, orange-red cloud that began in the far pale mists in the
+east, and came across the blue zenith overhead, burning with a splendid
+glory there, and then stretched over to the west, where it narrowed down
+and was lost in the calm, clear gold of the horizon.  The splendour of
+this great cloud was bewildering to the eyes; one turned gratefully to
+the reflection of it in the sultry red of the sea below, broken by the
+blue lines of waves.  Our attention was not wholly given to the fishing
+or the boat on this lambent evening; perhaps that was the reason we ran
+on a rock, and with difficulty got off again.
+
+Then back to the yacht again about eleven o'clock.  What is this
+terrible news from Master Fred, who was sent off with instructions to
+hunt up any stray crofter he might find, and use such persuasions in the
+shape of Gaelic friendliness and English money as would enable us to
+replenish our larder?  What! that he had walked two miles and seen
+nothing eatable or purchasable but an old hen?  Canna is a beautiful
+place; but we begin to think it is time to be off.
+
+On this still night, with the stars coming out, we cannot go below.  We
+sit on deck and listen to the musical whisper along the shore, and watch
+one golden-yellow planet rising over the dusky peaks of Rum, far in the
+east.  And our young Doctor is talking of the pathetic notices that are
+common in the Scotch papers--in the advertisements of deaths.  "_New
+Zealand papers, please copy._"  "_Canadian papers, please copy._"  When
+you see this prayer appended to the announcement of the death of some
+old woman of seventy or seventy-five, do you not know that it is a
+message to loved ones in distant climes, wanderers who may forget but
+who have not been forgotten? They are messages that tell of a scattered
+race--of a race that once filled the glens of these now almost deserted
+islands.  And surely, when some birthday or other time of recollection
+comes round, those far away,
+
+_Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe,_
+
+must surely bethink themselves of the old people left behind--living in
+Glasgow or Greenock now, perhaps--and must bethink themselves too of the
+land where last they saw the bonny red heather, and where last they
+heard the pipes playing the sad _Farewell, MacCruimin_ as the ship stood
+out to sea. They cannot quite forget the scenes of their youth--the
+rough seas and the red heather and the islands; the wild dancing at the
+weddings; the secret meetings in the glen, with Ailasa, or Morag, or
+Mairi, come down from the sheiling, all alone, a shawl round her head to
+shelter her from the rain, her heart fluttering like the heart of a
+timid fawn.  They cannot forget.
+
+And we, too, we are going away; and it may be that we shall never see
+this beautiful bay or the island there again.  But one of us carries
+away with him a talisman for the sudden revival of old memories.  And
+twenty years hence--that was his own phrase--what will Angus
+Sutherland--perhaps a very great and rich person by that time--what will
+he think when he turns to a certain picture, and recalls the long summer
+day when he rowed with Mary Avon round the wild shores of Canna?
+
+
+
+
+                              *CHAPTER X.*
+
+                     *"DUNVEGAN!--OH!  DUNVEGAN!"*
+
+
+Commander Mary Avon sends her orders below: everything to be made snug
+in the cabins, for there is a heavy sea running outside, and the _White
+Dove_ is already under way. Farewell, then, you beautiful blue bay--all
+rippled into silver now with the breeze--and green shores and
+picturesque cliffs!  We should have lingered here another day or two,
+perhaps, but for the report about that one old hen.  We cannot ration
+passengers and crew on one old hen.
+
+And here, as we draw away from Canna, is the vast panorama of the
+sea-world around us once more--the mighty mountain range of Skye shining
+faintly in the northern skies; Haleval and Haskeval still of a gloomy
+purple in the east; and away beyond these leagues of rushing Atlantic
+the clear blue line of North Uist.  Whither are we bound, then, you
+small captain with the pale face and the big, soft, tender black eyes?
+Do you fear a shower of spray that you have strapped that
+tightly-fitting ulster round the graceful small figure?  And are you
+quite sure that you know whether the wind is on the port or starboard
+beam?
+
+"Look! look! look!" she calls, and our F.R.S., who has been busy over
+the charts, jumps to his feet.
+
+Just at the bow of the vessel we see the great shining black thing
+disappear.  What if there had been a collision?
+
+"You cannot call _that_ a porpoise, any way," says she.  "Why, it must
+have been eighty feet long!"
+
+"Yes, yacht measurement," says he.  "But it had a back fin, which is
+suspicious, and it did not blow.  Now," he adds--for we have been
+looking all round for the re-appearance of the huge stranger--"if you
+want to see real whales at work, just look over there, close under Rum.
+I should say there was a whole shoal of them in the Sound."
+
+And there, sure enough, we see from time to time the white
+spoutings--rising high into the air in the form of the letter V, and
+slowly falling again.  They are too far away for us to hear the sound of
+their blowing, nor can we catch any glimpse, through the best of our
+glasses, of their appearance at the surface. Moreover, the solitary
+stranger that nearly ran against our bows makes no reappearance; he has
+had enough of the wonders of the upper world for a time.
+
+It is a fine sailing morning, and we pay but little attention to the
+fact that the wind, as usual, soon gets to be dead ahead.  So long as
+the breeze blows, and the sun shines, and the white spray flies from the
+bows of the _White Dove_, what care we which harbour is to shelter us
+for the night?  And if we cannot get into any harbour, what then?  We
+carry our own kingdom with us; and we are far from being dependent on
+the one old hen.
+
+But in the midst of much laughing at one of the Laird's good ones--the
+inexhaustible Homesh was again to the fore--a head appears at the top of
+the companion-way; and there is a respectful silence.  Unseemly mirth
+dies away before the awful dignity of this person.
+
+"Angus," she says, with a serious remonstrance on her face, "do you
+believe what scientific people tell you?"
+
+Angus Sutherland starts, and looks up; he has been deep in a chart of
+Loch Bracadaile.
+
+"Don't they say that water finds its own level?  Now do you call this
+water finding its own level?"--and as she propounds this conundrum, she
+clings on tightly to the side of the companion, for, in truth, the
+_White Dove_ is curveting a good deal among those great masses of waves.
+
+"Another tumbler broken!" she exclaims. "Now who left that tumbler on
+the table?"
+
+"I know," says Mary Avon.
+
+"Who was it then?" says the occupant of the companion-way; and we begin
+to tremble for the culprit.
+
+"Why, you yourself!"
+
+"Mary Avon, how can you tell such a story!" says the other, with a stern
+face.
+
+"Oh, but that is so," calls out our Doctor, "for I myself saw you bring
+the tumbler out of the ladies' cabin with water for the flowers."
+
+The universal shout of laughter that overwhelms Madame Dignity is too
+much for her. A certain conscious, lurking smile begins to break through
+the sternness of her face.
+
+"I don't believe a word of it," she declares, firing a shot as she
+retreats.  "Not a word of it.  You are two conspirators.  To tell such a
+story about a tumbler---!"
+
+But at this moment a further assault is made on the majesty of this
+imperious small personage.  There is a thunder at the bows; a rattling
+as of pistol-shots on the decks forward; and at the same moment the
+fag-ends of the spray come flying over the after part of the yacht.
+What becomes of one's dignity when one gets a shower of salt water over
+one's head and neck?  Go down below, madam!--retreat, retreat,
+discomfited!--go, dry your face and your bonny brown hair--and bother us
+no more with your broken tumbler!
+
+And despite those plunging seas and the occasional showers of spray,
+Mary Avon still clings bravely to the rope that is round the tiller; and
+as we are bearing over for Skye on one long tack, she has no need to
+change her position.  And if from time to time her face gets wet with
+the salt water, is it not quickly dried again in the warm sun and the
+breeze? Sun and salt water and sea-air will soon chase away the pallor
+from that gentle face: cannot one observe already--after only a few
+days' sailing--a touch of sun-brown on her cheeks?
+
+And now we are drawing nearer and nearer to Skye, and before us lies the
+lonely Loch Breatal, just under the splendid Coolins.  See how the vast
+slopes of the mountains appear to come sheer down to the lake; and there
+is a soft, sunny green on them--a beautiful, tender, warm colour that
+befits a summer day.  But far above and beyond those sunny slopes a
+different sight appears.  All the clouds of this fair day have gathered
+round the upper portions of the mountains; and that solitary range of
+black and jagged peaks is dark in shadow, dark as if with the
+expectation of thunder.  The Coolins are not beloved of mariners.  Those
+beautiful sunlit ravines are the secret haunts of hurricanes that
+suddenly come out to strike the unwary yachtsman as with the blow of a
+hammer.  _Stand by, forward, then, lads! About ship!  Down with the
+helm, Captain Avon!_--and behold! we are sailing away from the black
+Coolins, and ahead of us there is only the open sea, and the sunlight
+shining on the far cliffs of Canna.
+
+"When your course is due north," remarks Angus Sutherland, who has
+relieved Mary Avon at the helm, "and when the wind is due north, you get
+a good deal of sailing for your money."
+
+The profound truth of this remark becomes more and more apparent as the
+day passes in a series of long tacks which do not seem to be bringing
+those far headlands of Skye much nearer to us.  And if we are beating in
+this heavy sea all day and night, is there not a chance of one or other
+of our women-folk collapsing?  They are excellent sailors, to be
+sure--but--but--
+
+Dr. Sutherland is consulted.  Dr. Sutherland's advice is prompt and
+emphatic.  His sole and only precaution against sea-sickness is simple:
+resolute eating and drinking.  Cure for sea-sickness, after it has set
+in, he declares there is none: to prevent it, eat and drink, and let the
+drink be _brut_ champagne.  So our two prisoners are ordered below to
+undergo that punishment.
+
+And, perhaps, it is the _brut_ champagne, or perhaps it is merely the
+snugness of our little luncheon-party that prompts Miss Avon to remark
+on the exceeding selfishness of yachting and to suggest a proposal that
+fairly takes away our breath by its audacity.
+
+"Now," she says, cheerfully, "I could tell you how you could occupy an
+idle day on board a yacht so that you would give a great deal of
+happiness--quite a shock of delight--to a large number of people."
+
+Well, we are all attention.
+
+"At what cost?" says the financier of our party.
+
+"At no cost."
+
+This is still more promising.  Why should not we instantly set about
+making all those people happy?
+
+"All that you have got to do is to get a copy of the _Field_ or of the
+_Times_ or some such paper."
+
+Yes; and how are we to get any such thing? Rum has no post-office.  No
+mail calls at Canna.  Newspapers do not grow on the rocks of Loch
+Bracadaile.
+
+"However, let us suppose that we have the paper."
+
+"Very well.  All you have to do is to sit down and take the
+advertisements, and write to the people, accepting all their offers on
+their own terms.  The man who wants 500*l.* for his shooting in the
+autumn; the man who will sell his steam-yacht for 7,000*l,*; the curate
+who will take in another youth to board at 200*l.* a year; the lady who
+wants to let her country-house during the London season; all the people
+who are anxious to sell things.  You offer to take them all.  If a man
+has a yacht to let on hire, you will pay for new jerseys for the men.
+If a man has a house to be let, you will take all the fixtures at his
+own valuation.  All you have to do is to write two or three hundred
+letters--as an anonymous person, of course--and you make two or three
+hundred people quite delighted for perhaps a whole week!"
+
+The Laird stared at this young lady as if she had gone mad; but there
+was only a look of complacent friendliness on Mary Avon's face.
+
+"You mean that you write sham letters?" says her hostess.  "You gull
+those unfortunate people into believing that all their wishes are
+realised?"
+
+"But you make them happy!" says Mary Avon, confidently.
+
+"Yes--and the disappointment afterwards!" retorts her friend, almost
+with indignation. "Imagine their disappointment when they find they have
+been duped!  Of course they would write letters and discover that the
+anonymous person had no existence."
+
+"Oh, no!" says Mary Avon, eagerly. "There could be no such great
+disappointment. The happiness would be definite and real for the time.
+The disappointment would only be a slow and gradual thing when they
+found no answer coming to their letter.  You would make them happy for a
+whole week or so by accepting their offer; whereas by not answering
+their letter or letters you would only puzzle them, and the matter would
+drop away into forgetfulness.  Do you not think it would be an excellent
+scheme?"
+
+Come on deck, you people; this girl has got demented.  And behold! as we
+emerge once more into the sunlight and whirling spray and wind, we find
+that we are nearing Skye again on the port tack, and now it is the mouth
+of Loch Bracadaile that we are approaching.  And these pillars of rock,
+outstanding from the cliffs, and worn by the northern seas?
+
+"Why, these must be Macleod's Maidens!" says Angus Sutherland, unrolling
+one of the charts.
+
+And then he discourses to us of the curious fancies of sailors--passing
+the lonely coasts from year to year--and recognising as old friends, not
+any living thing, but the strange conformations of the rocks--and giving
+to these the names of persons and of animals.  And he thinks there is
+something more weird and striking about these solitary and sea-worn
+rocks fronting the great Atlantic than about any comparatively modern
+Sphinx or Pyramid; until we regard the sunlit pillars, and their fretted
+surface and their sharp shadows, with a sort of morbid imagination; and
+we discover how the sailors have fancied them to be stone women; and we
+see in the largest of them--her head and shoulder tilted over a
+bit--some resemblance to the position of the Venus discovered at Milo.
+All this is very fine; but suddenly the sea gets darkened over there; a
+squall comes roaring out of Loch Bracadaile; John of Skye orders the
+boat about; and presently we are running free before this puff from the
+north-east.  Alas! alas! we have no sooner got out of the reach of the
+squall than the wind backs to the familiar north, and our laborious
+beating has to be continued as before.
+
+But we are not discontented.  Is it not enough, as the golden and
+glowing afternoon wears on, to listen to the innocent prattle of
+Denny-mains, whose mind has been fired by the sight of those pillars of
+rock.  He tells us a great many remarkable things--about the similarity
+between Gaelic and Irish, and between Welsh and Armorican; and he
+discusses the use of the Druidical stones, as to whether the priests
+followed serpent-worship or devoted those circles to human sacrifice. He
+tells us about the Picts and Scots; about Fingal and Ossian; about the
+doings of Arthur in his kingdom of Strathclyde.  It is a most innocent
+sort of prattle.
+
+"Yes, sir," says our Doctor--quite gravely--though we are not quite sure
+that he is not making fun of our simple-hearted Laird, "there can be no
+doubt that the Aryan race that first swept over Europe spoke a Celtic
+language, more or less akin to Gaelic, and that they were pushed out, by
+successive waves of population, into Brittany, and Wales, and Ireland,
+and the Highlands.  And I often wonder whether it was they themselves
+that modestly call themselves the foreigners or strangers, and affixed
+that name to the land they laid hold of, from Galicia and Gaul to
+Galloway and Galway? The Gaelic word _gall_, a stranger, you find
+everywhere.  Fingal himself is only _Fionn-gall_--the Fair Stranger;
+_Dubh-gall_--that is, the familiar Dugald--or the Black Stranger--is
+what the Islay people call a Lowlander. _Ru-na-Gaul_, that we passed the
+other day--that is the Foreigner's Point.  I think there can be no doubt
+that the tribes that first brought Aryan civilisation through the west
+of Europe spoke Gaelic or something like Gaelic."
+
+"Ay," said the Laird, doubtfully.  He was not sure of this young man.
+He had heard something about Gaelic being spoken in the Garden of Eden,
+and suspected there might be a joke lying about somewhere.
+
+However, there was no joking about our F.R.S. when he began to tell Mary
+Avon how, if he had time and sufficient interest in such things, he
+would set to work to study the Basque people and their language--that
+strange remnant of the old race who inhabited the west of Europe long
+before Scot, or Briton, or Roman, or Teuton had made his appearance on
+the scene.  Might they not have traditions, or customs, or verbal
+survivals to tell us of their pre-historic forefathers?  The Laird
+seemed quite shocked to hear that his favourite Picts and Scots--and
+Fingal and Arthur and all the rest of them--were mere modern
+interlopers.  What of the mysterious race that occupied these islands
+before the great Aryan tide swept over from the East?
+
+Well, this was bad enough; but when the Doctor proceeded to declare his
+conviction that no one had the least foundation for the various
+conjectures about the purposes of those so-called Druidical stones--that
+it was all a matter of guess-work whether as regarded council-halls,
+grave-stones, altars, or serpent-worship--and that it was quite possible
+these stones were erected by the non-Aryan race who inhabited Europe
+before either Gaul or Roman or Teuton came west, the Laird interrupted
+him, triumphantly--
+
+"But," says he, "the very names of those stones show they are of Celtic
+origin--will ye dispute that?  What is the meaning of _Carnac_, that is
+in Brittany--eh?  Ye know Gaelic?"
+
+"Well, I know that much," said Angus, laughing.  "Carnac means simply
+the place of piled stones.  But the Celts may have found the stones
+there, and given them that name."
+
+"I think," says Miss Avon, profoundly, "that when you go into a question
+of names, you can prove anything.  And I suppose Gaelic is as
+accommodating as any other language."
+
+Angus Sutherland did not answer for a moment; but at last he said,
+rather shyly--
+
+"Gaelic is a very complimentary language, at all events.  Beau is 'a
+woman;' and bean-nachd is 'a blessing.'  _An ti a bheannaich thu_--that
+is, 'the one who blessed you.'"
+
+Very pretty; only we did not know how wildly the young man might not be
+falsifying Gaelic grammar in order to say something nice to Mary Avon.
+
+Patience works wonders.  Dinner-time finds us so far across the Minch
+that we can make out the lighthouse of South Uist.  And all these outer
+Hebrides are now lying in a flood of golden-red light; and on the cliffs
+of Canna, far away in the south-east, and now dwarfed so that they lie
+like a low wall on the sea, there is a paler red, caught from the glare
+of the sunset. And here is the silver tinkle of Master Fred's bell.
+
+On deck after dinner; and the night air is cooler now; and there are
+cigars about; and our young F.R.S. is at the tiller; and Mary Avon is
+singing, apparently to herself, something about a Berkshire farmer's
+daughter. The darkness deepens, and the stars come out; and there is one
+star--larger than the rest, and low down, and burning a steady red--that
+we know to be Ushinish lighthouse.  And then from time to time the
+silence is broken by, "_Stand by, forrard!  'Bout ship!_" and there is a
+rattling of blocks and cordage and then the head-sails fill and away she
+goes again on the other tack.  We have got up to the long headlands of
+Skye at last.
+
+Clear as the night is, the wind still comes in squalls, and we have the
+topsail down.  Into which indentation of that long, low line of dark
+land shall we creep in the darkness?
+
+But John of Skye keeps away from the land. It is past midnight.  There
+is nothing visible but the black sea and the clear sky, and the red star
+of the lighthouse; nothing audible but Mary Avon's humming to herself
+and her friend--the two women sit arm-in-arm under half-a-dozen of
+rugs--some old-world ballad to the monotonous accompaniment of the
+passing seas.
+
+One o'clock: Ushinish light is smaller now, a minute point of red fire,
+and the black line of land on our right looms larger in the dusk. Look
+at the splendour of the phosphorous-stars on the rushing waves.
+
+And at last John of Skye says in an undertone to Angus--
+
+"Will the leddies be going below now?"
+
+"Going below!" he says in reply.  "They are waiting till we get to
+anchor.  We must be just off Dunvegan Loch now."
+
+Then John of Skye makes his confession.
+
+"Oh, yes; I been into Dunvegan Loch more as two or three times; but I
+not like the dark to be with us in going in; and if we lie off till the
+daylight comes, the leddies they can go below to their peds.  And if Dr.
+Sutherland himself would like to see the channel in going in, will I
+send below when the daylight comes?"
+
+"No, no, John; thank you," is the answer. "When I turn in, I turn in for
+good.  I will leave you to find out the channel for yourself."
+
+And so there is a clearance of the deck, and rugs and camp-stools handed
+down the companion.  _Deoch-an-doruis_ in the candle-lit saloon?  To
+bed--to bed!
+
+It is about five o'clock in the morning that the swinging out of the
+anchor-chain causes the yacht to tremble from stem to stern; and the
+sleepers start in their sleep, but are vaguely aware that they are at a
+safe anchorage at last. And do you know where the brave _White Dove_ is
+lying now?  Surely if the new dawn brings any stirring of wind--and if
+there is a sound coming over to us from this far land of legend and
+romance--it is the wild, sad wail of Dunvegan!  The mists are clearing
+from the hills; the day breaks wan and fair; the great grey castle,
+touched by the early sunlight, looks down on the murmuring sea.  And is
+it the sea, or is it the cold wind of the morning, that sings and sings
+to us in our dreams--
+
+_Dunvegan--oh!  Dunvegan!_
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XI.*
+
+                           *DRAWING NEARER.*
+
+
+She is all alone on deck.  The morning sun shines on the beautiful blue
+bay; on the great castle perched on the rocks over there; and on the
+wooded green hills beyond. She has got a canvas fixed on her easel; she
+sings to herself as she works.
+
+Now this English young lady must have beguiled the tedium of her long
+nursing in Edinburgh by making a particular acquaintance with Scotch
+ballads; or how otherwise could we account for her knowledge of the
+"Song of Ulva," and now of the "Song of Dunvegan?"
+
+_Macleod the faithful, and fearing none!_
+  _Dunvegan--oh!  Dunvegan!_
+
+--she hums to herself as she is busy with this rough sketch of sea and
+shore.  How can she be aware that Angus Sutherland is at this very
+moment in the companion way, and not daring to stir hand or foot lest he
+should disturb her?
+
+_Friends and foes had our passion thwarted,_
+
+she croons to herself, though, indeed, there is no despair at all in her
+voice, but a perfect contentment--
+
+_But true, tender, and lion-hearted,_
+_Lived he on, and from life departed,_
+  _Macleod, whose rival is breathing none!_
+    _Dunvegan--oh, Dunvegan!_
+
+She is pleased with the rapidity of her work. She tries to whistle a
+little bit.  Or, perhaps it is only the fresh morning air that has put
+her in such good spirits?
+
+_Yestreen the Queen had four Maries._
+
+What has that got to do with the sketch of the shining grey castle?
+Among these tags and ends of ballads, the young Doctor at last becomes
+emboldened to put in an appearance.
+
+"Good morning, Miss Avon," says he; "you are busy at work again?"
+
+She is not in the least surprised.  She has got accustomed to his coming
+on deck before the others; they have had a good deal of quiet chatting
+while as yet the Laird was only adjusting his high white collar and
+satin neckcloth.
+
+"It is only a sketch," said she, in a rapid and highly business-like
+fashion, "but I think I shall be able to sell it.  You know most people
+merely value pictures for their association with things they are
+interested in themselves.  A Yorkshire farmer would rather have a
+picture of his favourite cob than any Raphael or Titian.  And the
+ordinary English squire: I am sure that you know in his own heart he
+prefers one of Herring's farm yard pieces to Leonardo's _Last Supper_.
+Well, if some yachting gentleman, who has been in this loch, should see
+this sketch, he will probably buy it, however bad it is, just because it
+interests him----"
+
+"But you don't really mean to sell it?" said he.
+
+"That depends," said she demurely, "on whether I get any offer for it."
+
+"Why," he exclaimed, "the series of pictures you are now making should
+be an invaluable treasure to you all your life long: a permanent record
+of a voyage that you seem to enjoy very much.  I almost shrink from
+robbing you of that one of Canna; still, the temptation is too great.
+And you propose to sell them all?"
+
+"What I can sell of them," she says; and then she adds, rather shyly,
+"You know I could not very well afford to keep them all for myself.
+I--I have a good many almoners in London; and I devote to them what I
+can get for my scrawls--that is, I deduct the cost of the frames, and
+keep the rest for them.  It is not a large sum."
+
+"Any other woman would spend it in jewellery and dresses," says he
+bluntly.
+
+At this, Miss Mary Avon flushes slightly, and hastily draws his
+attention to a small boat that is approaching.  Dr. Sutherland does not
+pay any heed to the boat.
+
+He is silent for a second or so; and then he says, with an effort to
+talk in a cheerful and matter-of-fact way--
+
+"You have not sent ashore yet this morning: don't you know there is a
+post-office at Dunvegan?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I heard so.  But the men are below at breakfast, I think, and
+I am in no hurry to send, for there won't be any letters for me, I
+know."
+
+"Oh, indeed," he says, with seeming carelessness, "it must be a long
+time since you have heard from your friends."
+
+"I have not many friends to hear from," she answers, with a light laugh,
+"and those I have don't trouble me with many letters.  I suppose they
+think I am in very good hands at present."
+
+"Oh, yes--no doubt," says he, and suddenly he begins to talk in warm
+terms of the delightfulness of the voyage.  He is quite charmed with the
+appearance of Dunvegan Loch and castle.  A more beautiful morning he
+never saw.  And in the midst of all this enthusiasm the small boat comes
+alongside.
+
+There is an old man in the boat, and when he has fastened his oars, he
+says a few words to Angus Sutherland, and hands up a big black bottle.
+Our young Doctor brings the bottle over to Mary Avon.  He seems to be
+very much pleased with everything this morning.
+
+"Now, is not that good-natured?" says he. "It is a bottle of fresh milk,
+with the compliments of ----, of Uginish.  Isn't it good-natured?"
+
+"Oh, indeed it is," says she, plunging her hand into her pocket.  "You
+must let me give the messenger half-a-crown."
+
+"No, no; that is not the Highland custom," says the Doctor; and
+therewith he goes below, and fetches up another black bottle, and pours
+out a glass of whiskey with his own hand, and presents it to the ancient
+boatman.  You should have seen the look of surprise in the old man's
+face when Angus Sutherland said something to him in the Gaelic.
+
+And alas! and alas!--as we go ashore on this beautiful bright day, we
+have to give up for ever the old Dunvegan of many a dream--the dark and
+solitary keep that we had imagined perched high above the Atlantic
+breakers--the sheer precipices, the awful sterility, the wail of
+lamentation along the lonely shores.  This is a different picture
+altogether that Mary Avon has been trying to put down on her canvas--a
+spacious, almost modern-looking, but nevertheless picturesque castle,
+sheltered from the winds by softly wooded hills, a bit of smooth, blue
+water below, and further along the shores the cheerful evidences of
+fertility and cultivation.  The wail of Dunvegan?  Why, here is a brisk
+and thriving village, with a post-office, and a shop, and a building
+that looks uncommonly like an inn; and there, dotted all about, and
+encroaching on the upper moorland, any number of those small crofts that
+were once the pride of the Highlands and that gave to England the most
+stalwart of her regiments.  Here are no ruined huts and voiceless
+wastes; but a cheerful, busy picture of peasant-life; the strapping
+wenches at work in the small farm-yards, well-built and frank of face;
+the men well clad; the children well fed and merry enough.  It is a
+scene that delights the heart of our good friend of Denny-mains.  If we
+had but time, he would fain go in among the tiny farms, and inquire
+about the rent of the holdings, and the price paid for those picturesque
+little beasts that the artists are for ever painting--with a louring sky
+beyond, and a dash of sunlight in front.  But our Doctor is obdurate.
+He will not have Mary Avon walk further; she must return to the yacht.
+
+But on our way back, as she is walking by the side of the road, he
+suddenly puts his hand on her arm, apparently to stop her. Slight as the
+touch is, she naturally looks surprised.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he says, hastily, "but I thought you would rather
+not tread on it----"
+
+He is regarding a weed by the wayside--a thing that looks like a
+snapdragon of some sort.  We did not expect to find a hard-headed man of
+science betray this trumpery sentiment about a weed.
+
+"I thought you would rather not tread upon it when you knew it was a
+stranger," he says, in explanation of that rude assault upon her arm.
+"That is not an English plant at all; it is the _Mimulus_, its real home
+is in America."
+
+We began to look with more interest on the audacious small foreigner
+that had boldly adventured across the seas.
+
+"Oh," she says, looking back along the road, "I hope I have not trampled
+any of them down."
+
+"Well, it does not _much_ matter," he admits, "for the plant is becoming
+quite common now in parts of the West Highlands; but I thought as it was
+a stranger, and come all the way across the Atlantic on a voyage of
+discovery, you would be hospitable.  I suppose the Gulf-stream brought
+the first of them over."
+
+"And if they had any choice in the matter," says Mary Avon, looking
+down, and speaking with a little self-conscious deliberation, "and if
+they wanted to be hospitably received, they showed their good sense in
+coming to the West Highlands."
+
+After that there was a dead silence on the part of Angus Sutherland.
+But why should he have been embarrassed?  There was no compliment
+levelled at him that he should blush like a schoolboy.  It was quite
+true that Miss Avon's liking--even love--for the West Highlands was
+becoming very apparent; but Banffshire is not in the West Highlands.
+What although Angus Sutherland could speak a few words in the Gaelic
+tongue to an old boatman?  He came from Banff.  Banffshire is not in the
+West Highlands.
+
+Then that afternoon at the great castle itself: what have we but a
+confused recollection of twelfth-century towers; and walls nine feet
+thick; and ghost-chambers; and a certain fairy-flag, that is called the
+_Bratach-Sith_; and the wide view over the blue Atlantic; and of a great
+kindness that made itself visible in the way of hothouse flowers and
+baskets of fruit, and what not?  The portraits, too: the various
+centuries got mixed up with the old legends, until we did not know in
+which face to look for some transmitted expression that might tell of
+the Cave of Uig or the Uamh-na-Ceann. But there was one portrait there,
+quite modern, and beautiful, that set all the tourist-folk a raving, so
+lovely were the life-like eyes of it; and the Laird was bold enough to
+say to the gentle lady who was so good as to be our guide, that it would
+be one of the greatest happinesses of his life if he might be allowed to
+ask Mr. Galbraith, the well-known artist of Edinburgh, to select a young
+painter to come up to Dunvegan and make a copy of this picture for him,
+Denny-mains.  And Dr. Sutherland could scarcely come away from that
+beautiful face; and our good Queen T. was quite charmed with it; and as
+for Mary Avon, when one of us regarded her, behold! as she looked up,
+there was a sort of moisture in the soft black eyes.
+
+What was she thinking of?  That it must be a fine thing to be so
+beautiful a woman, and charm the eyes of all men?  But now--now that we
+had had this singing-bird with us on board the yacht for so long a
+time--would any one of us have admitted that she was rather plain?  It
+would not have gone well with any one who had ventured to say so to the
+Laird of Denny-mains, at all events.  And as for our sovereign-lady and
+mistress, these were the lines which she always said described Mary
+Avon:--
+
+    Was never seen thing to be praised derre,[#]
+    Nor under blacke cloud so bright a sterre,
+    As she was, as they saiden, every one
+    That her behelden in her blacke weed;
+    And yet she stood, full low and still, alone,
+    Behind all other folk, in little brede,[#]
+    And nigh the door, ay under shame's drede;
+    Simple of bearing, debonair of cheer,
+    With a full sure[#] looking and mannere.
+
+[#] _derre_, dearer.
+
+[#] _in little brede_, without display.
+
+[#] _sure_, frank.
+
+
+How smart the saloon of the _White Dove_ looked that evening at dinner,
+with those geraniums, and roses, and fuchsias, and what not, set amid
+the tender green of the maidenhair fern!  But all the same there was a
+serious discussion.  Fruit, flowers, vegetables, and fresh milk, however
+welcome, fill no larder; and Master Fred had returned with the doleful
+tale that all his endeavours to purchase a sheep at one of the
+neighbouring farms had been of no avail.  Forthwith we resolve to make
+another effort.  Far away, on the outer shores of Dunvegan Loch, we can
+faintly descry, in the glow of the evening, some crofter's huts on the
+slopes of the hill.  Down with the gig, then, boys; in with the
+fishing-rods; and away for the distant shores, where haply, some tender
+ewe-lamb, or brace of quacking duck, or some half-dozen half-starved
+fowls may be withdrawn from the reluctant tiller of the earth!
+
+It is a beautiful clear evening, with lemon-gold glory in the
+north-west.  And our stout-sinewed Doctor is rowing stroke, and there is
+a monotonous refrain of
+
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+
+"We must give you a wage as one of the hands, Angus," says Queen T.
+
+"I am paid already," says he.  "I would work my passage through for the
+sketch of Canna that Miss Avon gave me."
+
+"Would you like to ask the other men whether they would take the same
+payment?" says Miss Avon, in modest depreciation of her powers.
+
+"Do not say anything against the landscape ye gave to Dr. Sutherland,"
+observes the Laird.  "No, no; there is great merit in it. I have told ye
+before I would like to show it to Tom Galbraith before it goes south; I
+am sure he would approve of it.  Indeed, he is jist such a friend of
+mine that I would take the leeberty of asking him to give it a bit touch
+here and there--what an experienced artist would see amiss ye know----"
+
+"Mr. Galbraith may be an experienced artist," says our Doctor friend
+with unnecessary asperity, "but he is not going to touch that picture."
+
+"Ah can tell ye," says the Laird, who is rather hurt by this rejection,
+"that the advice of Tom Galbraith has been taken by the greatest artists
+in England.  He was up in London last year, and was at the studio of one
+of the first of the Acadameecians, and that very man was not ashamed to
+ask the opeenion of Tom Galbraith.  And says Tom to him, 'The face is
+very fine, but the right arm is out of drawing.'  You would think that
+impertinent? The Acadameecian, I can tell you, thought differently.
+Says he, 'That has been my own opeenion, but no one would ever tell me
+so; and I would have left it as it is had ye no spoken.'"
+
+"I have no doubt the Academacian who did not know when his picture was
+out of drawing was quite right to take the advice of Tom Galbraith,"
+says our stroke-oar.  "But Tom Galbraith is not going to touch Miss
+Avon's sketch of Canna----" and here the fierce altercation is stopped,
+for stroke-oar puts a fresh spurt on, and we hear another sound--
+
+_Soon the freshening breeze will blow._
+_Well show the snowy canvas on her,_
+    _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+  _A long, strong pull together,_
+    _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+
+Well, what was the result of our quest? After we had landed Master Fred,
+and sent him up the hills, and gone off fishing for lithe for an hour or
+so, we returned to the shore in the gathering dusk.  We found our
+messenger seated on a rock, contentedly singing a Gaelic song, and
+plucking a couple of fowls which was all the provender he had secured.
+It was in vain that he tried to cheer us by informing us that the
+animals in question had cost only sixpence a-piece.  We knew that they
+were not much bigger than thrushes. Awful visions of tinned meats began
+to rise before us.  In gloom we took the steward and the microscopic
+fowls on board, and set out for the yacht.
+
+But the Laird did not lose his spirits.  He declared that
+self-preservation was the first law of nature, and that, despite the
+injunctions of the Wild Birds' Protection Act, he would get out his gun
+and shoot the first brood of "flappers" he saw about those lonely lochs.
+And he told us such a "good one" about Homesh that we laughed nearly all
+the way back to the yacht.  Provisions?  We were independent of
+provisions!  With a handful of rice a day we would cross the
+Atlantic--we would cross twenty Atlantics--so long as we were to be
+regaled and cheered by the "good ones" of our friend of Denny-mains.
+
+Dr. Sutherland, too, seemed in no wise depressed by the famine in the
+land.  In the lamp-lit saloon, as we gathered round the table, and cards
+and things were brought out, and the Laird began to brew his toddy, the
+young Doctor maintained that no one on land could imagine the snugness
+of life on board a yacht.  And now he had almost forgotten to speak of
+leaving us; perhaps it was the posting of the paper on Radiolarians,
+along with other MSS., that had set his mind free.  But touching that
+matter of the Dunvegan post-office: why had he been so particular in
+asking Mary Avon if she were not expecting letters; and why did he so
+suddenly grow enthusiastic about the scenery on learning that the young
+lady, on her travels, was not pestered with correspondence?  Miss Avon
+was not a Cabinet Minister.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XII.*
+
+                     *THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW.*
+
+
+The last instructions given to John of Skye that night were large and
+liberal.  At break of day he was to sail for any port he might chance to
+encounter on the wide seas.  So long as Angus Sutherland did not speak
+of returning, what did it matter to us?--Loch Boisdale, Loch Seaforth,
+Stornaway, St. Kilda, the North Pole were all the same.  It is true that
+of fresh meat we had on board only two fowls about the size of wrens;
+but of all varieties of tinned meats and fruit we had an abundant store.
+And if perchance we were forced to shoot a sheep on the Flannen Islands,
+would not the foul deed be put down to the discredit of those dastardly
+Frenchmen? When you rise up as a nation and guillotine all the
+respectable folk in the country, it is only to be expected of you
+thereafter that you should go about the seas shooting other people's
+sheep.
+
+And indeed when we get on deck after breakfast, we find that John of
+Skye has fulfilled his instructions to the letter; that is to say, he
+must have started at daybreak to get away so far from Dunvegan and the
+headlands of Skye.  But as for going farther?  There is not a speck of
+cloud in the dome of blue; there is not a ripple on the dazzling sea;
+there is not a breath of wind to stir the great white sails all aglow in
+the sunlight; nor is there even enough of the Atlantic swell to move the
+indolent tiller.  How John of Skye has managed to bring us so far on so
+calm a morning remains a mystery.
+
+"And the glass shows no signs of falling," says our young Doctor quite
+regretfully: does he long for a hurricane, that so he may exhibit his
+sailor-like capacities?
+
+But Mary Avon, with a practical air, is arranging her easel on deck, and
+fixing up a canvas, and getting out the tubes she wants--the while she
+absently sings to herself something about
+
+  _Beauty lies_
+  _In many eyes,_
+_But love in yours, my Nora Creina._
+
+And what will she attack now?  Those long headlands of Skye, dark in
+shadow, with a glow of sunlight along their summits; or those lonely
+hills of Uist set far amid the melancholy main; or those vaster and
+paler mountains of Harris, that rise on the north of the dreaded Sound?
+
+"Well, you _have_ courage," says Angus Sutherland, admiringly, "to try
+to make a picture out of _that_!"
+
+"Oh," she says, modestly, though she is obviously pleased, "that is a
+pet theory of mine.  I try for ordinary every-day effects, without any
+theatrical business; and if I had only the power to reach them, I know I
+should surprise people.  Because you know most people go through the
+world with a sort of mist before their eyes; and they are awfully
+grateful to you when you suddenly clap a pair of spectacles on their
+nose and make them see things as they are.  I cannot do it as yet, you
+know; but there is no harm in trying."
+
+"I think you do it remarkably well," he says; "but what are you to make
+of that?--nothing but two great sheets of blue, with a line of bluer
+hills between?"
+
+But Miss Avon speedily presents us with the desired pair of spectacles.
+Instead of the cloudless blue day we had imagined it to be, we find that
+there are low masses of white cloud along the Skye cliffs, and these
+throw long reflections on the glassy sea, and moreover we begin to
+perceive that the calm vault around us is not an uninterrupted blue, but
+melts into a pale green as it nears the eastern horizon.  Angus
+Sutherland leaves the artist to her work.  He will not interrupt her by
+idle talk.
+
+There is no idle talk going forward where the Laird is concerned.  He
+has got hold of an attentive listener in the person of his hostess, who
+is deep in needlework; and he is expounding to her more clearly than
+ever the merits of the great Semple case, pointing out more particularly
+how the charges in the major proposition are borne out by the extracts
+in the minor.  Yes; and he has caught the critics, too, on the hip.
+What about the discovery of those clever gentlemen that Genesis X. and
+10 was incorrect?  They thought they were exceedingly smart in proving
+that the founders of Babel were the descendants, not of Ham, but of
+Shem.  But when the ruins of Babel were examined, what then?
+
+"Why, it was distinctly shown that the founders were the descendants of
+Ham, after all!" says Denny-mains, triumphantly.  "What do ye think of
+that, Dr. Sutherland?"
+
+Angus Sutherland starts from a reverie: he has not been listening.
+
+"Of what?" he says.  "The Semple case?"
+
+"Ay."
+
+"Oh, well," he says, rather carelessly, "all that wrangling is as good
+an occupation as any other--to keep people from thinking."
+
+The Laird stares, as if he had not heard aright.  Angus Sutherland is
+not aware of having said anything startling.  He continues quite
+innocently--
+
+"Any occupation is valuable enough that diverts the mind--that is why
+hard work is conducive to complete mental health; it does not matter
+whether it is grouse-shooting, or commanding an army, or wrangling about
+major or minor propositions.  If a man were continually to be facing the
+awful mystery of existence--asking the record of the earth and the stars
+how he came to be here, and getting no answer at all--he must inevitably
+go mad. The brain could not stand it.  If the human race had not busied
+itself with wars and commerce, and so forth, it must centuries ago have
+committed suicide.  That is the value of hard work--to keep people from
+thinking of the unknown around them; the more a man is occupied, the
+happier he is--it does not matter whether he occupies himself with
+School Boards, or salmon-fishing, or the prosecution of a heretic."
+
+He did not remark the amazed look on the Laird's face, nor yet that Mary
+Avon had dropped her painting and was listening.
+
+"The fact is," he said, with a smile, "if you are likely to fall to
+thinking about the real mysteries of existence anywhere, it is among
+solitudes like these, where you see what a trivial little accident human
+life is in the history of the earth.  You can't think about such things
+in Regent Street; the cigar-shops, the cabs, the passing people occupy
+you.  But here you are brought back as it were to all sorts of first
+principles; and commonplaces appear somehow in their original freshness.
+In Regent Street you no doubt know that life is a strange thing, and
+that death is a strange thing, because you have been told so, and you
+believe it, and think no more about it.  But here--with the seas and
+skies round you, and with the silence of the night making you think, you
+_feel_ the strangeness of these things.  Now just look over there; the
+blue sea, and the blue sky, and the hills--it is a curious thing to
+think that they will be shining there just as they are now--on just such
+another day as this--and you unable to see them or anything else--passed
+away like a ghost.  And the _White Dove_ will be sailing up here; and
+John will be keeping an eye on Ushinish lighthouse; but your eyes won't
+be able to see anything----"
+
+"Well, Angus, I do declare," exclaims our sovereign mistress, "you have
+chosen a comforting thing to talk about this morning.  Are we to be
+always thinking about our coffin?"
+
+"On the contrary," says the young Doctor; "I was only insisting on the
+wholesomeness of people occupying themselves diligently with some
+distraction or other, however trivial.  And how do you think the Semple
+case will end, sir?"
+
+But our good friend of Denny-mains was far too deeply shocked and
+astounded to reply. The great Semple case a trivial thing--a
+distraction--an occupation to keep people from serious thinking!  The
+public duties, too, of the Commissioner for the Burgh of Strathgovan;
+were these to be regarded as a mere plaything? The new steam fire-engine
+was only a toy, then?  The proposed new park and the addition to the
+rates were to be regarded as a piece of amiable diversion?
+
+The Laird knew that Angus Sutherland had not read the _Vestiges of
+Creation_, and that was a hopeful sign.  But, _Vestiges_ or no
+_Vestiges_, what were the young men of the day coming to if their daring
+speculations led them to regard the most serious and important concerns
+of life as a pastime?  The Commissioners for the Burgh of Strathgoven
+were but a parcel of children, then, playing on the sea-shore, and
+unaware of the awful deeps beyond?
+
+"I am looking at these things only as a doctor," says Dr. Sutherland,
+lightly--seeing that the Laird is too dumbfounded to answer his
+question, "and I sometimes think a doctor's history of civilisation
+would be an odd thing, if only you could get at the physiological facts
+of the case.  I should like to know, for example, what Napoleon had for
+supper on the night before Waterloo.  Something indigestible, you may be
+sure; if his brain had been clear on the 15th, he would have smashed the
+Allies, and altered modern history.  I should have greatly liked, too,
+to make the acquaintance of the man who first announced his belief that
+infants dying unbaptised were to suffer eternal torture: I think it must
+have been his liver.  I should like to have examined him."
+
+"I should like to have poisoned him," says Mary Avon, with a flash of
+anger in the soft eyes.
+
+"Oh, no; the poor wretch was only the victim of some ailment," said our
+Doctor, charitably.  "There must have been something very much the
+matter with Calvin, too.  I know I could have cured Schopenhauer of his
+pessimism if he had let me put him on a wholesome regimen."
+
+The Laird probably did not know who Schopenhauer was; but the audacity
+of the new school was altogether too much for him.
+
+"I--I suppose," he said, stammering in his amazement, "ye would have
+taken Joan of Arc, and treated her as a lunatic?"
+
+"Oh, no; not as a confirmed lunatic," he answered, quite simply.  "But
+the diagnosis of that case is obvious; I think she could have been
+cured.  All that Joanna Southcote wanted was a frank physician."
+
+The Laird rose and went forward to where Mary Avon was standing at her
+easel.  He had had enough.  The criticism of landscape painting was more
+within his compass.
+
+"Very good--very good," says he, as if his whole attention had been
+occupied by her sketching.  "The reflections on the water are just fine.
+Ye must let me show all your sketches to Tom Galbraith before ye go back
+to the south."
+
+"I hear you have been talking about the mysteries of existence," she
+says, with a smile.
+
+"Oh, ay, it is easy to talk," he says, sharply--and not willing to
+confess that he has been driven away from the field.  "I am afraid there
+is an unsettling tendency among the young men of the present day--a want
+of respect for things that have been established by the common sense of
+the world.  Not that I am against all innovation.  No, no.  The world
+cannot stand still.  I myself, now; do ye know that I was among the
+first in Glasgow to hold that it might be permissible to have an organ
+to lead the psalmody of a church?"
+
+"Oh, indeed," says she, with much respect.
+
+"That is true.  No, no; I am not one of the bigoted.  Give me the
+Essentials, and I do not care if ye put a stone cross on the top of the
+church.  I tell ye that honestly; I would not object even to a cross on
+the building if all was sound within."
+
+"I am sure you are quite right, sir," says Mary Avon, gently.
+
+"But no tampering with the Essentials. And as for the millinery, and
+incense, and crucifixes of they poor craytures that have not the courage
+to go right over to Rome--who stop on this side, and play-act at being
+Romans--it is seeckening--perfectly seeckening.  As for the Romans
+themselves, I do not condemn them.  No, no.  If they are in error, I
+doubt not they believe with a good conscience.  And when I am in a
+foreign town, and one o' their processions of priests and boys comes by,
+I raise my hat.  I do indeed."
+
+"Oh, naturally," says Mary Avon.
+
+"No, no," continues Denny-mains, warmly, "there is none of the bigot
+about me.  There is a minister of the Episcopalian Church that I know;
+and there is no one more welcome in my house: I ask him to say grace
+just as I would a minister of my own Church."
+
+"And which is that, sir?" she asked meekly.
+
+The Laird stares at her.  Is it possible that she has heard him so
+elaborately expound the Semple prosecution, and not be aware to what
+denomination he belongs?
+
+"The Free--the Free Church, of course," he says, with some surprise.
+"Have ye not seen the _Report of Proceedings_ in the Semple case?"
+
+"No, I have not," she answers, timidly. "You have been so kind in
+explaining it that--that a printed report was quite unnecessary."
+
+"But I will get ye one--I will get ye one directly," says he.  "I have
+several copies in my portmanteau.  And ye will see my name in front as
+one of the elders who considered it fit and proper that a full report
+should be published, so as to warn the public against these inseedious
+attacks against our faith.  Don't interrupt your work, my lass; but I
+will get ye the pamphlet; and whenever you want to sit down for a time,
+ye will find it most interesting reading--most interesting."
+
+And so the worthy Laird goes below to fetch that valued report.  And
+scarcely has he disappeared than a sudden commotion rages over the deck.
+Behold! a breeze coming swiftly over the sea--ruffling the glassy deep
+as it approaches!  Angus Sutherland jumps to the tiller.  The head-sails
+fill; and the boat begins to move.  The lee-sheets are hauled taut; and
+now the great mainsail is filled too.  There is a rippling and hissing
+of water; and a new stir of life and motion throughout the vessel from
+stem to stern.
+
+It seems but the beginning of the day now, though it is near lunch-time.
+Mary Avon puts away her sketch of the dead calm, and sits down just
+under the lee of the boom, where the cool breeze is blowing along.  The
+Laird, having brought up the pamphlet, is vigorously pacing the deck for
+his morning exercise; we have all awakened from these idle reveries
+about the mystery of life.
+
+"Ha, ha," he says, coming aft, "this is fine--this is fine now.  Why not
+give the men a glass of whiskey all round for whistling up such a fine
+breeze?  Do ye think they would object?"
+
+"Better give them a couple of bottles of beer for their dinner,"
+suggests Queen T., who is no lover of whiskey.
+
+But do you think the Laird is to be put off his story by any such
+suggestion?  We can see by his face that he has an anecdote to fire off;
+is it not apparent that his mention of whiskey was made with a purpose?
+
+"There was a real good one," says he--and the laughter is already
+twinkling in his eyes, "about the man that was apologising before his
+family for having been drinking whiskey with some friends.  'Ay,' says
+he, 'they just held me and forced it down my throat.'  Then says his
+son--a little chap about ten--says he, 'I think I could ha' held ye
+mysel', feyther'--ho! ho! ho!' says he, 'I think I could ha' held ye
+mysel', feyther;'" and the Laird laughed, and laughed again, till the
+tears came into his eyes.  We could see that he was still internally
+laughing at that good one when we went below for luncheon.
+
+At luncheon, too, the Laird quite made up his feud with Angus
+Sutherland, for he had a great many other good ones to tell about
+whiskey and whiskey drinking; and he liked a sympathetic audience.  But
+this general merriment was suddenly dashed by an ominous suggestion
+coming from our young Doctor.  Why, he asked, should we go on fighting
+against these northerly winds?  Why not turn and run before them?
+
+"Then you want to leave us, Angus," said his hostess reproachfully.
+
+"Oh, no," he said, and with some colour in his face.  "I don't want to
+go, but I fear I must very soon now.  However, I did not make that
+suggestion on my own account; if I were pressed for time, I could get
+somewhere where I could catch the _Clansman_."
+
+Mary Avon looked down, saying nothing.
+
+"You would not leave the ship like that," says his hostess.  "You would
+not run away, surely?  Rather than that we will turn at once. Where are
+we now?"
+
+"If the breeze lasts, we will get over to Uist, to Loch na Maddy, this
+evening, but you must not think of altering your plans on my account.  I
+made the suggestion because of what Captain John was saying."
+
+"Very well," says our Admiral of the Fleet, taking no heed of properly
+constituted authority.  "Suppose we set out on our return voyage
+to-morrow morning, going round the other side of Skye for a change.  But
+you know, Angus, it is not fair of you to run away when you say yourself
+there is nothing particular calls you to London."
+
+"Oh," says he, "I am not going to London just yet.  I am going to Banff,
+to see my father.  There is an uncle of mine, too, on a visit to the
+manse."
+
+"Then you will be coming south again?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then why not come another cruise with us on your way back?"
+
+It was not like this hard-headed young Doctor to appear so embarrassed.
+
+"That is what I should like very much myself," he stammered, "if--if I
+were not in the way of your other arrangements."
+
+"We shall make no other arrangements," says the other definitely.  "Now
+that is a promise, mind.  No drawing back.  Mary will put it down in
+writing, and hold you to it."
+
+Mary Avon had not looked up all this time.
+
+"You should not press Dr. Sutherland too much," she says shyly; "perhaps
+he has other friends he would like to see before leaving Scotland."
+
+The hypocrite!  Did she want to make Angus Sutherland burst a
+blood-vessel in protesting that of all the excursions he had made in his
+life this would be to him for ever the most memorable; and that a
+repetition or extension of it was a delight in the future almost too
+great to think of?  However, she seemed pleased that he spoke so warmly,
+and she did not attempt to contradict him.  If he had really enjoyed all
+this rambling idleness, it would no doubt the better fit him for his
+work in the great capital.
+
+We beat in to Loch na Maddy--that is, the Lake of the Dogs--in the quiet
+evening; and the rather commonplace low-lying hills, and the plain
+houses of the remote little village, looked beautiful enough under the
+glow of the western skies.  And we went ashore, and walked inland for a
+space, through an intricate network of lagoons inbranching from the sea;
+and we saw the trout leaping and making circles on the gold-red pools,
+and watched the herons rising from their fishing and winging their slow
+flight across the silent lakes.
+
+And it was a beautiful night, too, and we had a little singing on deck.
+Perhaps there was an under-current of regret in the knowledge that
+now--for this voyage, at least--we had touched our farthest point.
+To-morrow we were to set out again for the south.
+
+
+
+
+                            *CHAPTER XIII.*
+
+                        *FERDINAND AND MIRANDA.*
+
+
+The wind was laughing at Angus Sutherland. All the time we had been
+sailing north it had blown from the north; how that we turned our faces
+eastward, it wheeled round to the east, as if it would imprison him for
+ever in this floating home.
+
+"_You would fain get away_"--this was the mocking sound that one of us
+seemed to hear in those light airs of the morning that blew along the
+white canvas--"_the world calls; ambition, fame, the eagerness of
+rivalry, the spell that science throws over her disciples, all these are
+powerful, and they draw you, and you would fain get away.  But the hand
+of the wind is uplifted against you; you may fret as you will, but you
+are not round Ru Hunish yet!_"
+
+And perhaps the imaginative small creature who heard these strange
+things in the light breeze against which we were fighting our way across
+the Minch may have been forming her own plans.  Angus Sutherland, she
+used often to say, wanted humanising.  He was too proud and scornful in
+the pride of his knowledge; the gentle hand of a woman was needed to
+lead him into more tractable ways.  And then this Mary Avon, with her
+dexterous, nimble woman's wit, and her indomitable courage, and her life
+and spirit, and abounding cheerfulness; would she not be a splendid
+companion for him during his long and hard struggle?  This born
+match-maker had long ago thrown away any notion about the Laird
+transferring our singing-bird to Denny-mains.  She had almost forgotten
+about the project of bringing Howard Smith, the Laird's nephew, and
+half-compelling him to marry Mary Avon: that was preposterous on the
+face of it.  But she had grown accustomed, during those long days of
+tranquil idleness, to see our young Doctor and Mary Avon together, cut
+off from all the distractions of the world, a new Paul and Virginia.
+Why--she may have asked herself--should not these two solitary waifs,
+thus thrown by chance together on the wide ocean of existence, why
+should they not cling to each other and strengthen each other in the
+coming days of trial and storm?  The strange, pathetic, phantasmal farce
+of life is brief; they cannot seize it and hold it, and shape it to
+their own ends; they know not whence it comes, or whither it goes; but
+while the brief, strange thing lasts, they can grasp each other's hand,
+and make sure--amid all the unknown things around them, the mountains,
+and the wide seas, and the stars--of some common, humble, human
+sympathy.  It is so natural to grasp the hand of another in the presence
+of something vast and unknown.
+
+The rest of us, at all events, have no time for such vague dreams and
+reveries.  There is no idleness on board the _White Dove_ out here on
+the shining deep.  Dr. Sutherland has rigged up for himself a sort of
+gymnasium by putting a rope across the shrouds to the peak halyards; and
+on this rather elastic cross-bar he is taking his morning exercise by
+going through a series of performances, no doubt picked up in Germany.
+Miss Avon is busy with a sketch of the long headland running out to
+Vaternish Point; though, indeed, this smooth Atlantic roll makes it
+difficult for her to keep her feet, and introduces a certain amount of
+haphazard into her handiwork. The Laird has brought on deck a formidable
+portfolio of papers, no doubt relating to the public affairs of
+Strathgovan; and has put on his gold spectacles; and has got his pencil
+in hand.  Master Fred is re-arranging the cabins; the mistress of the
+yacht is looking after her flowers.  And then is heard the voice of John
+of Skye--"_Stand by, boys!_" and "_Bout ship!_" and the helm goes down,
+and the jib and foresail flutter and tear at the blocks and sheets, and
+then the sails gently fill, and the _White Dove_ is away on another
+tack.
+
+"Well, I give in," says Mary Avon, at last, as a heavier lurch than
+usual threatens to throw her and her easel together into the scuppers.
+"It _is_ no use."
+
+"I thought you never gave in, Mary," says our Admiral, whose head has
+appeared again at the top of the companion-stairs.
+
+"I wonder who could paint like this," says Miss Avon, indignantly.  And
+indeed she is trussed up like a fowl, with one arm round one of the gig
+davits.
+
+"Turner was lashed to the mast of a vessel in order to see a storm,"
+says Queen T.
+
+"But not to paint," retorts the other. "Besides, I am not Turner.
+Besides, I am tired."
+
+By this time, of course, Angus Sutherland has come to her help; and
+removes her easel and what not for her; and fetches her a deck-chair.
+
+"Would you like to play chess?" says he.
+
+"Oh, yes," she answers dutifully, "if you think the pieces will stay on
+the board."
+
+"Draughts will be safer," says he, and therewith he plunges below, and
+fetches up the squared board.
+
+And so, on this beautiful summer day, with the shining seas around them,
+and a cool breeze tempering the heat of the sun, Ferdinand and Miranda
+set to work.  And it was a pretty sight to see them--her soft dark eyes
+so full of an anxious care to acquit herself well; his robust, hard,
+fresh-coloured face full of a sort of good-natured forbearance.  But
+nevertheless it was a strange game.  All Scotchmen are supposed to play
+draughts; and one brought up in a manse is almost of necessity a good
+player.  But one astonished onlooker began to perceive that, whereas
+Mary Avon played but indifferently, her opponent played with a blindness
+that was quite remarkable.  She had a very pretty, small, white hand;
+was he looking at that that he did not, on one occasion, see how he
+could have taken three pieces and crowned his man all at one fell swoop?
+And then is it considered incumbent on a draught-player to inform his
+opponent of what would be a better move on the part of the latter?
+However that may be, true it is that, by dint of much advice, opportune
+blindness, and atrocious bad play, the Doctor managed to get the game
+ended in a draw.
+
+"Dear me," said Mary Avon, "I never thought I should have had a chance.
+The Scotch are such good draught-players."
+
+"But you play remarkably well," said he--and there was no blush of shame
+on his face.
+
+Draughts and luncheon carry us on to the afternoon; and still the light
+breeze holds out; and we get nearer and nearer to the most northerly
+points of Skye.  And as the evening draws on, we can now make out the
+hilly line of Ross-shire--a pale rose-colour in the far east; and nearer
+at hand is the Skye coast, with the warm sunlight touching on the ruins
+of Duntulme, where Donald Gorm Mor fed his imprisoned nephew on salt
+beef, and then lowered to him an empty cup--mocking him before he died;
+and then in the west the mountains of Harris, a dark purple against the
+clear lemon-golden glow.  But as night draws on, behold! the wind dies
+away altogether; and we lie becalmed on a lilac-and-silver sea, with
+some rocky islands over there grown into a strange intense green in the
+clear twilight.
+
+Down with the gig, then, John of Skye!--and hurry in all our rods, and
+lines, and the occult entrapping inventions of our patriarch of
+Denny-mains.  We have no scruple about leaving the yacht in mid-ocean,
+in charge of the steward only.  The clear twilight shines in the sky;
+there is not a ripple on the sea; only the long Atlantic swell that we
+can hear breaking far away on the rocks.  And surely such calms are
+infrequent in the Minch; and surely these lonely rocks can have been
+visited but seldom by passing voyagers?
+
+Yet the great rollers--as we near the forbidding shores--break with an
+ominous thunder on the projecting points and reefs.  The Doctor insists
+on getting closer and closer--he knows where the big lithe are likely to
+be found--and the men, although they keep a watchful eye about them,
+obey.  And then--it is Mary Avon who first calls out--and behold!  her
+rod is suddenly dragged down--the point is hauled below the water--agony
+and alarm are on her face.
+
+"Here--take it--take it!" she calls out. "The rod will be broken."
+
+"Not a bit," the Doctor calls out.  "Give him the butt hard!  Never mind
+the rod! Haul away!"
+
+And indeed by this time everybody was alternately calling and hauling;
+and John of Skye, attending to the rods of the two ladies, had scarcely
+time to disengage the big fish, and smooth the flies again; and the
+Laird was declaring that these lithe fight as hard as a twenty-pound
+salmon.  What did we care about those needles and points of black rock
+that every two or three seconds showed their teeth through the breaking
+white surf?
+
+"Keep her close in, boys!" Angus Sutherland cried.  "We shall have a
+fine pickling to-morrow."
+
+Then one fish, stronger or bigger than his fellows, pulls the rod clean
+out of Mary Avon's hands.
+
+"Well, I have done it this time," she says.
+
+"Not a bit!" her companion cries.  "Up all lines!  Back now,
+lads--gently!"
+
+And as the stern of the boat is shoved over the great glassy billows,
+behold! a thin dark line occasionally visible--the end of the lost rod!
+Then there is a swoop on the part of our Doctor; he has both his hands
+on the butt; there elapses a minute or two of fighting between man and
+fish; and then we can see below the boat the wan gleam of the captured
+animal as it comes to the surface in slow circles.  Hurrah! a
+seven-pounder!  John of Skye chuckles to himself as he grasps the big
+lithe.
+
+"Oh, ay!" he says, "the young leddy knows ferry well when to throw away
+the rod.  It is a gran' good thing to throw away the rod when there will
+be a big fish.  Ay, ay, it iss a good fish."
+
+But the brutes that fought hardest of all were the dog-fish--the snakes
+of the sea; and there was a sort of holy Archangelic joy on the face of
+John of Skye when he seized a lump of stick to fell these hideous
+creatures before flinging them back into the water again. And yet why
+should they have been killed on account of their snake-like eyes and
+their cruel mouth?  The human race did not rise and extirpate Frederick
+Smethurst because he was ill-favoured.
+
+By half-past ten we had secured a good cargo of fish; and then we set
+out for the yacht.  The clear twilight was still shining above the
+Harris hills; but there was a dusky shadow along the Outer Hebrides,
+where the orange ray of Scalpa light was shining; and there was dusk in
+the south, so that the yacht had become invisible altogether.  It was a
+long pull back; for the _White Dove_ had been carried far by the ebb
+tide.  When we found her, she looked like a tall grey ghost in the
+gathering darkness; and no light had as yet been put up; but all the
+same we had a laughing welcome from Master Fred, who was glad to have
+the fresh fish wherewith to supplement our frugal meals.
+
+Then the next morning--when we got up and looked around--we were in the
+same place!  And the glass would not fall; and the blue skies kept blue;
+and we had to encounter still another day of dreamy idleness.
+
+"The weather is conspiring against you, Angus," our sovereign lady said,
+with a smile. "And you know you cannot run away from the yacht: it would
+be so cowardly to take the steamer."
+
+"Well, indeed," said he, "it is the first time in my life that I have
+found absolute idleness enjoyable; and I am not so very anxious it
+should end.  Somehow, though, I fear we are too well off.  When we get
+back to the region of letters and telegrams, don't you think we shall
+have to pay for all this selfish happiness?"
+
+"Then why should we go back?" she says lightly.  "Why not make a compact
+to forsake the world altogether, and live all our life on board the
+_White Dove_?"
+
+Somehow, his eyes wandered to Mary Avon; and he said--rather absently--
+
+"I, for one, should like it well enough; if it were only possible."
+
+"No, no," says the Laird, brusquely, "that will no do at all.  It was
+never intended that people should go and live for themselves like that.
+Ye have your duties to the nation and to the laws that protect ye.  When
+I left Denny-mains I told my brother Commissioners that what I could do
+when I was away to further the business of the Burgh I would do; and I
+have entered most minutely into several matters of great importance.
+And that is why I am anxious to get to Portree.  I expect most important
+letters there."
+
+Portree!  Our whereabouts on the chart last night was marked between 45
+and 46 fathoms W.S.W. from some nameless rocks; and here, as far as we
+can make out, we are still between these mystical numbers.  What can we
+do but chat, and read, and play draughts, and twirl round a rope, and
+ascend to the cross-trees to look out for a breeze, and watch and listen
+to the animal-life around us?
+
+"I do think," says Mary Avon to her hostess, "the calling of those
+divers is the softest and most musical sound I ever heard; perhaps
+because it is associated with so many beautiful places.  Just fancy,
+now, if you were suddenly to hear a diver symphony beginning in an
+opera--if all the falsetto recitative and the blare of the trumpets were
+to stop--and if you were to hear the violins and flutes beginning, quite
+low and soft, a diver symphony, would you not think of the Hebrides, and
+the _White Dove_, and the long summer days?  In the winter, you know, in
+London, I fancy we should go once or twice to see _that_ opera!"
+
+"I have never been to an opera," remarks the Laird, quite impervious to
+Mary Avon's tender enthusiasm.  "I am told it is a fantastic
+exhibeetion."
+
+One incident of that day was the appearance of a new monster of the
+deep, which approached quite close to the hull of the _White Dove_.
+Leaning over the rail we could see him clearly in the clear water--a
+beautiful, golden, submarine insect, with a conical body like that of a
+land-spider, and six or eight slender legs, by the incurving of which he
+slowly propelled himself through the water.  As we were perfectly
+convinced that no one had ever been in such dead calms in the Minch
+before, and had lain for twenty-four hours in the neighbourhood of 45
+and 46, we took it for granted that this was a new animal.  In the
+temporary absence of our F.R.S., the Laird was bold enough to name it
+the _Arachne Mary-Avonensis_; but did not seek to capture it.  It went
+on its golden way.
+
+But we were not to linger for ever in these northern seas, surrounded by
+perpetual summer calms--however beautiful the prospect might be to a
+young man fallen away, for the moment, from his high ambitions.
+Whatever summons from the far world might be awaiting us at Portree was
+soon to be served upon us.  In the afternoon a slight breeze sprung up
+that gently carried us away past Ru Hunish, and round by Eilean Trodda,
+and down by Altavaig. The grey-green basaltic cliffs of the Skye coast
+were now in shadow; but the strong sunlight beat on the grassy ledges
+above; and there was a distant roar of water along the rocks. This other
+throbbing sound, too: surely that must be some steamer far away on the
+other side of Rona?
+
+The sunset deepened.  Darker and darker grew the shadows in the great
+mountains above us.  We heard the sea along the solitary shores.
+
+The stars came out in the twilight: they seemed clearest just over the
+black mountains. In the silence there was the sound of a waterfall
+somewhere--in among those dark cliffs. Then our side-lights were put up;
+and we sate on deck; and Mary Avon, nestling close to her friend, was
+persuaded to sing for her
+
+_Yestreen the Queen had four Maries_
+
+--just as if she had never heard the song before.  The hours went by;
+Angus Sutherland was talking in a slow, earnest, desultory fashion; and
+surely he must have been conscious that one heart there at least was
+eagerly and silently listening to him.  The dawn was near at hand when
+finally we consented to go below.
+
+What time of the morning was it that we heard John of Skye call out
+"_Six or seven fathoms 'll do?_"  We knew at least that we had got into
+harbour; and that the first golden glow of the daybreak was streaming
+through the skylights of the saloon.  We had returned from the wilds to
+the claims and the cares of civilisation; if there was any message to
+us, for good or for evil, from the distant world we had left for so
+long, it was now waiting for us on shore.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XIV.*
+
+                            *EVIL TIDINGS.*
+
+
+We had indeed returned to the world: the first thing we saw on entering
+the saloon in the morning was a number of letters--actual letters, that
+had come through a post-office--lying on the breakfast-table.  We stared
+at these strange things.  Our good Queen T. was the first to approach
+them.  She took them up as if she expected they would bite her.
+
+"Oh, Mary," she says, "there is not one for you--not one."
+
+Angus Sutherland glanced quickly at the girl.  But there was not the
+least trace of disappointment on her face.  On the contrary, she said,
+with a cheerful indifference--
+
+"So much the better.  They only bother people."
+
+But of course they had to be opened and read--even the bulky parcel from
+Strathgovan. The only bit of intelligence that came from that quarter
+was to the effect that Tom Galbraith had been jilted by his lady-love;
+but as the rumour, it appeared, was in circulation among the Glasgow
+artists, the Laird instantly and indignantly refused to believe it.
+Envy is the meanest of the passions; and we knew that the Glasgow
+artists could scarcely sleep in their bed at night for thinking of the
+great fame of Mr. Galbraith of Edinburgh.  However, amid all these
+letters one of us stumbled upon one little item that certainly concerned
+us.  It was a clipping from the advertisement column of a newspaper.  It
+was inclosed, without word or comment, by a friend in London who knew
+that we were slightly acquainted, perforce, with Mr. Frederick
+Smethurst.  And it appeared that that gentleman, having got into
+difficulties with his creditors, had taken himself off, in a
+surreptitious and evil manner, insomuch that this newspaper clipping was
+nothing more nor less than a hue and cry after the fraudulent bankrupt.
+That letter and its startling inclosure were quickly whipped into the
+pocket of the lady to whom they had been sent.
+
+By great good luck Mary Avon was the first to go on deck.  She was
+anxious to see this new harbour into which we had got.  And then, with
+considerable dismay on her face, our sovereign mistress showed us this
+ugly thing. She was much excited.  It was so shameful of him to bring
+this disgrace on Mary Avon! What would the poor girl say?  And this
+gentle lady would not for worlds have her told while she was with
+us--until at least we got back to some more definite channel of
+information.  She was, indeed, greatly distressed.
+
+But we had to order her to dismiss these idle troubles.  We formed
+ourselves into a committee on the spot; and this committee unanimously,
+if somewhat prematurely, and recklessly, resolved--
+
+First, that it was not of the slightest consequence to us or any human
+creature where Mr. Frederick Smethurst was, or what he might do with
+himself.
+
+Secondly, that if Mr. Frederick Smethurst were to put a string and a
+stone round his neck and betake himself to the bottom of the sea, he
+would earn our gratitude and in some measure atone for his previous
+conduct.
+
+Thirdly, that nothing at all about the matter should be said to Mary
+Avon: if the man had escaped, there might probably be an end of the
+whole business.
+
+To these resolutions, carried swiftly and unanimously, Angus Sutherland
+added a sort of desultory rider, to the effect that moral or immoral
+qualities do sometimes reveal themselves in the face.  He was also of
+opinion that spare persons were more easy of detection in this manner.
+He gave an instance of a well-known character in London--a most
+promising ruffian who had run through the whole gamut of discreditable
+offences.  Why was there no record of this brave career written in the
+man's face?  Because nature had obliterated the lines in fat.  When a
+man attains to the dimensions and appearance of a scrofulous toad
+swollen to the size of an ox, moral and mental traces get rubbed out.
+Therefore, contended our F.R.S., all persons who set out on a career of
+villany, and don't want to be found out, should eat fat-producing foods.
+Potatoes and sugar he especially mentioned as being calculated to
+conceal crime.
+
+However, we had to banish Frederick Smethurst and his evil deeds from
+our minds; for the yacht from end to end was in a bustle of commotion
+about our going ashore; and as for us--why, we meant to run riot in all
+the wonders and delights of civilisation.  Innumerable fowls, tons of
+potatoes and cabbage and lettuce, fresh butter, new loaves, new milk:
+there was no end to the visions that rose before the excited brain of
+our chief commissariat officer.  And when the Laird, in the act of
+stepping, with much dignity, into the gig, expressed his firm conviction
+that somewhere or other we should stumble upon a Glasgow newspaper not
+more than a week old, so that he might show us the reports of the
+meetings of the Strathgovan Commissioners, we knew of no further luxury
+that the mind could desire.
+
+And as we were being rowed ashore, we could not fail to be struck by the
+extraordinary abundance of life and business and activity in the world.
+Portree, with its wooded crags and white houses shining in the sun,
+seemed a large and populous city.  The smooth waters of the bay were
+crowded with craft of every description; and the boats of the yachts
+were coming and going with so many people on board of them that we were
+quite stared out of countenance.  And then, when we landed, and walked
+up the quay, and ascended the hill into the town, we regarded the signs
+over the shop-doors with the same curiosity that regards the commonest
+features of a foreign street.  There was a peculiarity about Portree,
+however, that is not met with in continental capitals.  We felt that the
+ground swayed lightly under our feet.  Perhaps these were the last
+oscillations of the great volcanic disturbance that shot the black
+Coolins into the sky.
+
+Then the shops: such displays of beautiful things, in silk, and wool,
+and cunning woodwork; human ingenuity declaring itself in a thousand
+ways, and appealing to our purses. Our purses, to tell the truth, were
+gaping.  A craving for purchase possessed us.  But, after all, the Laird
+could not buy servant girls' scarves as a present for Mary Avon; and
+Angus Sutherland did not need a second waterproof coat; and though we
+reached the telegraph office, there would have been a certain monotony
+in spending innumerable shillings on unnecessary telegrams, even though
+we might be rejoicing in one of the highest conveniences of
+civilisation.  The plain truth must be told.  Our purchases were limited
+to some tobacco and a box or two of paper collars for the men; to one or
+two shilling novels; and a flask of eau-de-Cologne.  We did not half
+avail ourselves of all the luxuries spread out so temptingly before us.
+
+"Do you think the men will have the water on board yet?" Mary Avon says,
+as we walk back.  "I do not at all like being on land. The sun scorches
+so, and the air is stifling."
+
+"In my opeenion," says the Laird, "the authorities of Portree are
+deserving of great credit for having fixed up the apparatus to let boats
+get water on board at the quay.  It was a public-spirited project--it
+was that.  And I do not suppose that any one grumbles at having to pay a
+shilling for the privilege.  It is a legeetimate tax.  I am sure it
+would have been a long time or we could have got such a thing at
+Strathgovan, if there was need for it there; ye would scarcely believe
+it, ma'am, what a spirit of opposition there is among some o' the
+Commissioners to any improvement, ye would not believe it."
+
+"Indeed," she says, in innocent wonder; she quite sympathises with this
+public-spirited reformer.
+
+"Ay, it's true.  Mind ye, I am a Conservative myself; I will have
+nothing to do with Radicals and their Republics; no, no, but a wise
+Conservative knows how to march with the age.  Take my own poseetion:
+for example, as soon as I saw that the steam fire-engine was a
+necessity, I withdrew my opposition at once.  I am very thankful to you,
+ma'am, for having given me an opportunity of carefully considering the
+question.  I will never forget our trip round Mull.  Dear me! it is warm
+the day," added the Laird, as he raised his broad felt hat, and wiped
+his face with his voluminous silk handkerchief.
+
+Here come two pedestrians--good-looking young lads of an obviously
+English type--and faultlessly equipped from head to heel.  They look
+neither to the left nor right; on they go manfully through the dust, the
+sun scorching their faces; there must be a trifle of heat under these
+knapsacks.  Well, we wish them fine weather and whole heels.  It is not
+the way some of us would like to pass a holiday. For what is this that
+Miss Avon is singing lightly to herself as she walks carelessly on,
+occasionally pausing to look in at a shop--
+
+_And often have we seamen heard how men are killed or undone,_
+_By overturns of carriages, and thieves, and fires in London._
+
+Here she turns aside to caress a small terrier; but the animal,
+mistaking her intention, barks furiously, and retreats, growling and
+ferocious, into the shop.  Miss Avon is not disturbed. She walks on, and
+completes her nautical ballad--all for her own benefit--
+
+_We've heard what risk all landsmen run, from noblemen to tailors,_
+_So, Billy, let's thank Providence that you and I are sailors!_
+
+
+"What on earth is that, Mary?" her friend behind asks.
+
+The girl stops with a surprised look, as if she had scarcely been
+listening to herself; then she says lightly:--
+
+"Oh, don't you know the sailor's song--I forget what they call it:--
+
+_A strong sou-wester's blowing, Billy, can't you hear it roar now,_
+_Lord help 'em, how I pities all unhappy folks on shore now._
+
+
+"You have become a thorough sailor, Miss Avon," says Angus Sutherland,
+who has overheard the last quotation.
+
+"I--I like it better--I am more interested," she says, timidly, "since
+you were so kind as to show me the working of the ship."
+
+"Indeed," says he, "I wish you would take command of her, and order her
+present captain below.  Don't you see how tired his eyes are becoming?
+He won't take his turn of sleep like the others; he has been scarcely
+off the deck night or day since we left Canna; and I find it is no use
+remonstrating with him.  He is too anxious; and he fancies I am in a
+hurry to get back; and these continual calms prevent his getting on.
+Now the whole difficulty would be solved, if you let me go back by the
+steamer; then you could lie at Portree here for a night or two, and let
+him have some proper rest."
+
+"I do believe, Angus," says his hostess, laughing in her gentle way,
+"that you threaten to leave us just to see how anxious we are to keep
+you."
+
+"My position as ship's doctor," he retorts, "is compromised.  If Captain
+John falls ill on my hands whom am I to blame but myself?"
+
+"I am quite sure I can get him to go below," says Mary Avon, with
+decision--"quite sure of it.  That is, especially," she adds, rather
+shyly, "if you will take his place.  I know he would place more
+dependence on you than on any of the men."
+
+This is a very pretty compliment to pay to one who is rather proud of
+his nautical knowledge.
+
+"Well," he says, laughing, "the responsibility must rest on you.  Order
+him below, to-night, and see whether he obeys.  If we don't get to a
+proper anchorage, we will manage to sail the yacht somehow among us--you
+being captain, Miss Avon."
+
+"If I am captain," she says, lightly--though she turns away her head
+somewhat, "I shall forbid your deserting the ship."
+
+"So long as you are captain, you need not fear that," he answers.
+Surely he could say no less.
+
+But it was still John of Skye who was skipper when, on getting under
+way, we nearly met with a serious accident.  Fresh water and all
+provisions having been got on board, we weighed anchor only to find the
+breeze die wholly down.  Then the dingay was got out to tow the yacht
+away from the sheltered harbour; and our young Doctor, always anxious
+for hard work, must needs jump in to join in this service.  But the
+little boat had been straining at the cable for scarcely five minutes
+when a squall of wind came over from the north-west and suddenly filled
+the sails.  "Look out there, boys!" called Captain John, for we were
+running full down on the dingay.  "Let go the rope!  Let go!" he
+shouted: but they would not let go, as the dingay came sweeping by. In
+fact, she caught the yacht just below the quarter, and seemed to
+disappear altogether. Mary Avon uttered one brief cry; and then stood
+pale--clasping one of the ropes--not daring to look.  And John of Skye
+uttered some exclamation in the Gaelic; and jumped on to the taffrail.
+But the next thing we saw, just above the taffrail, was the red and
+shining and laughing face of Angus Sutherland, who was hoisting himself
+up by means of the mizen boom; and directly afterwards appeared the
+scarlet cap of Hector of Moidart.  It was upon this latter culprit that
+the full force of John of Skye's wrath was expended.
+
+"Why did you not let go the rope when I wass call to you?"
+
+"It is all right, and if I wass put into the water, I have been in the
+water before," was the philosophic reply.
+
+And now it was, as we drew away from Portree, that Captain Mary Avon
+endeavoured to assume supreme command and would have the deposed skipper
+go below and sleep.  John of Skye was very obedient, but he said:--"Oh,
+ay.  I will get plenty of sleep.  But that hill there, that is Ben
+Inivaig; and there is not any hill in the West Highlands so bad for
+squalls as that hill.  By and by I will get plenty of sleep."
+
+Ben Inivaig let us go past its great, gloomy, forbidding shoulders and
+cliffs without visiting us with anything worse than a few variable
+puffs; and we got well down into the Raasay Narrows.  What a picture of
+still summer loveliness was around us!--the rippling blue seas, the
+green shores, and far over these the black peaks of the Coolins now
+taking a purple tint in the glow of the afternoon.  The shallow Sound of
+Scalpa we did not venture to attack, especially as it was now low water;
+we went outside Scalpa, by the rocks of Skier Dearg. And still John of
+Skye evaded, with a gentle Highland courtesy, the orders of the captain.
+The silver bell of Master Fred summoned us below for dinner, and still
+John of Skye was gently obdurate.
+
+"Now, John," says Mary Avon, seriously, to him, "you want to make me
+angry."
+
+"Oh, no, mem; I not think that," says he, deprecatingly.
+
+"Then why won't you go and have some sleep?  Do you want to be ill?"
+
+"Oh, there iss plenty of sleep," says he. "Maybe we will get to Kyle
+Akin to-night; and there will be plenty of sleep for us."
+
+"But I am asking you as a favour to go and get some sleep _now_.  Surely
+the men can take charge of the yacht!"
+
+"Oh, yes, oh, yes!" says John of Skye. "They can do that ferry well."
+
+And then he paused--for he was great friends with this young lady, and
+did not like to disoblige her.
+
+"You will be having your dinner now. After the dinner, if Mr. Sutherland
+himself will be on deck, I will go below and turn in for a time."
+
+"Of course Dr. Sutherland will be on deck," says the new captain,
+promptly; and she was so sure of one member of her crew that she added,
+"and he will not leave the tiller for a moment until you come to relieve
+him."
+
+Perhaps it was this promise--perhaps it was the wonderful beauty of the
+evening--that made us hurry over dinner.  Then we went on deck again;
+and our young Doctor, having got all his bearings and directions clear
+in his head, took the tiller, and John of Skye at length succumbed to
+the authority of Commander Avon and disappeared into the forecastle.
+
+The splendour of colour around us on that still evening!--away in the
+west the sea of a pale yellow green, with each ripple a flash of
+rose-flame, and over there in the south the great mountains of Skye--the
+Coolins, Blaven, and Ben-na-Cailleach--become of a plum-purple in the
+clear and cloudless sky. Angus Sutherland was at the tiller
+contemplatively smoking an almost black meerschaum; the Laird was
+discoursing to us about the extraordinary pith and conciseness of the
+Scotch phrases in the Northumbrian Psalter; while ever and anon a
+certain young lady, linked arm-in-arm with her friend, would break the
+silence with some aimless fragment of ballad or old-world air.
+
+And still we glided onwards in the beautiful evening; and now ahead of
+us in the dusk of the evening, the red star of Kyle Akin lighthouse
+steadily gleamed.  We might get to anchor, after all, without awaking
+John of Skye.
+
+"In weather like this," remarked our sovereign lady, "in the gathering
+darkness, John might keep asleep for fifty years."
+
+"Like Rip Van Winkle," said the Laird, proud of his erudition.  "That is
+a wonderful story that Washington Irving wrote--a verra fine story."
+
+"Washington Irving!--the story is as old as the Coolins," says Dr.
+Sutherland.
+
+The Laird stared as if he had been Rip Van Winkle himself: was he for
+ever to be checkmated by the encyclopaedic knowledge of Young
+England--or Young Scotland rather--and that knowledge only the
+gatherings and sweepings of musty books that anybody with a parrot-like
+habit might acquire?
+
+"Why, surely you know that the legend belongs to that common stock of
+legends that go through all literatures?" says our young Doctor.  "I
+have no doubt the Hindoos have their Epimenides; and that Peter Klaus
+turns up somewhere or other in the Gaelic stories. However, that is of
+little importance; it is of importance that Captain John should get some
+sleep.  Hector, come here!"
+
+There was a brief consultation about the length of anchor-chain wanted
+for the little harbour opposite Kyle Akin; Hector's instructions were on
+no account to disturb John of Skye.  But no sooner had they set about
+getting the chain on deck than another figure appeared, black among the
+rigging; and there was a well-known voice heard forward.  Then Captain
+John came aft, and, despite all remonstrances, would relieve his
+substitute.  Rip Van Winkle's sleep had lasted about an hour and a half.
+
+And now we steal by the black shores; and that solitary red star comes
+nearer and nearer in the dusk; and at length we can make out two or
+three other paler lights close down by the water.  Behold! the yellow
+ports of a steam-yacht at anchor; we know, as our own anchor goes
+rattling out in the dark, that we shall have at least one neighbour and
+companion through the still watches of the night.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XV.*
+
+                             *TEMPTATION.*
+
+
+But the night, according to John of Skye's chronology, lasts only until
+the tide turns or until a breeze springs up.  Long before the wan glare
+in the east has arisen to touch the highest peaks of the Coolins, we
+hear the tread of the men on deck getting the yacht under way.  And then
+there is a shuffling noise in Angus Sutherland's cabin; and we guess
+that he is stealthily dressing in the dark.  Is he anxious to behold the
+wonders of daybreak in the beautiful Loch Alsh, or is he bound to take
+his share in the sailing of the ship?  Less perturbed spirits sink back
+again into sleep, and contentedly let the _White Dove_ go on her own way
+through the expanding blue-grey light of the dawn.
+
+Hours afterwards there is a strident shouting down the companion-way;
+everybody is summoned on deck to watch the yacht shoot the Narrows of
+Kyle Rhea.  And the Laird is the first to express his surprise: are
+these the dreaded Narrows that have caused Captain John to start before
+daybreak so as to shoot them with the tide?  All around is a dream of
+summer beauty and quiet.  A more perfect picture of peace and loveliness
+could not be imagined than the green crags of the mainland, and the vast
+hills of Skye, and this placid channel between shining in the fair light
+of the morning.  The only thing we notice is that on the glassy green of
+the water--this reflected, deep, almost opaque green is not unlike the
+colour of Niagara below the Falls--there are smooth circular lines here
+and there; and now and again the bows of the _White Dove_ slowly swerve
+away from her course as if in obedience to some unseen and mysterious
+pressure.  There is not a breath of wind; and it needs all the pulling
+of the two men out there in the dingay and all the watchful steering of
+Captain John to keep her head straight.  Then a light breeze comes along
+the great gully; the red-capped men are summoned on board; the dingay is
+left astern; the danger of being caught in an eddy and swirled ashore is
+over and gone.
+
+Suddenly the yacht stops as if she had run against a wall.  Then, just
+as she recovers, there is an extraordinary hissing and roaring in the
+dead silence around us, and close by the yacht we find a great circle of
+boiling and foaming water, forced up from below and overlapping itself
+in ever-increasing folds.  And then, on the perfectly glassy sea,
+another and another of those boiling and hissing circles appears, until
+there is a low rumbling in the summer air like the breaking of distant
+waves. And the yacht--the wind having again died down--is curiously
+compelled one way and then another, insomuch that John of Skye quickly
+orders the men out in the dingay again; and once more the long cable is
+tugging at her bows.
+
+"It seems to me," says Dr. Sutherland to our skipper, "that we are in
+the middle of about a thousand whirlpools."
+
+"Oh, it iss ferry quate this morning," says Captain John, with a shrewd
+smile.  "It iss not often so quate as this.  Ay, it iss sometimes ferry
+bad here--quite so bad as Corrievreckan; and when the flood-tide is
+rinnin, it will be rinnin like--shist like a race-horse."
+
+However, by dint of much hard pulling, and judicious steering, we manage
+to keep the _White Dove_ pretty well in mid-current; and only once--and
+that but for a second or two--get caught in one of those eddies circling
+in to the shore.  We pass the white ferry-house; a slight breeze carries
+us by the green shores and woods of Glenelg; we open out the wider sea
+between Isle Ornsay and Loch Hourn; and then a silver tinkle tells us
+breakfast is ready.
+
+That long, beautiful, calm summer day: Ferdinand and Miranda playing
+draughts on deck--he having rigged up an umbrella to shelter her from
+the hot sun; the Laird busy with papers referring to the Strathgovan
+Public Park; the hostess of these people overhauling the stores and
+meditating on something recondite for dinner.  At last the Doctor fairly
+burst out a-laughing.
+
+"Well," said he, "I have been in many a yacht; but never yet in one
+where everybody on board was anxiously waiting for the glass to fall."
+
+His hostess laughed too.
+
+"When you come south again," she said, "we may be able to give you a
+touch of something different.  I think that, even with all your love of
+gales, a few days of the equinoctials would quite satisfy you."
+
+"The equinoctials!" he said, with a surprised look.
+
+"Yes," said she boldly.  "Why not have a good holiday while you are
+about it?  And a yachting trip is nothing without a fight with the
+equinoctials.  Oh, you have no idea how splendidly the _White Dove_
+behaves!"
+
+"I should like to try her," he said, with a quick delight; but directly
+afterwards he ruefully shook his head.  "No, no," said he, "such a
+tremendous spell of idleness is not for me. I have not earned the right
+to it yet.  Twenty years hence I may be able to have three months'
+continued yachting in the West Highlands."
+
+"If I were you," retorted this small person, with a practical air, "I
+would take it when I could get it.  What do you know about twenty years
+hence?--you may be physician to the Emperor of China.  And you have
+worked very hard; and you ought to take as long a holiday as you can
+get."
+
+"I am sure," says Mary Avon very timidly, "that is very wise advice."
+
+"In the meantime," says he, cheerfully, "I am not physician to the
+Emperor of China, but to the passengers and crew of the _White Dove_.
+The passengers don't do me the honour of consulting me; but I am going
+to prescribe for the crew on my own responsibility.  All I want is, that
+I shall have the assistance of Miss Avon in making them take the dose."
+
+Miss Avon looked up inquiringly with the soft black eyes of her.
+
+"Nobody has any control over them but herself--they are like refractory
+children. Now," said he, rather more seriously, "this night-and-day work
+is telling on the men. Another week of it and you would see _Insomnia_
+written in large letters on their eyes.  I want you, Miss Avon, to get
+Captain John and the men to have a complete night's rest to-night--a
+sound night's sleep from the time we finish dinner till daybreak.  We
+can take charge of the yacht."
+
+Miss Avon promptly rose to her feet.
+
+"John!" she called.
+
+The big brown-bearded skipper from Skye came aft--putting his pipe in
+his waistcoat-pocket the while.
+
+"John," she said, "I want you to do me a favour now.  You and the men
+have not been having enough sleep lately.  You must all go below
+to-night as soon as we come up from dinner; and you must have a good
+sleep till daybreak.  The gentlemen will take charge of the yacht."
+
+It was in vain that John of Skye protested he was not tired.  It was in
+vain that he assured her that, if a good breeze sprung up, we might get
+right back to Castle Osprey by the next morning.
+
+"Why, you know very well," she said, "this calm weather means to last
+for ever."
+
+"Oh, no!  I not think that, mem," said John of Skye, smiling.
+
+"At all events we shall be sailing all night; and that is what I want
+you to do, as a favour to me."
+
+Indeed, our skipper found it was of no use to refuse.  The young lady
+was peremptory.  And so, having settled that matter, she sate down to
+her draught-board again.
+
+But it was the Laird she was playing with now.  And this was a
+remarkable circumstance about the game: when Angus Sutherland played
+with Denny-mains, the latter was hopelessly and invariably beaten; and
+when Denny-mains in his turn played with Mary Avon, he was relentlessly
+and triumphantly the victor; but when Angus Sutherland played with Miss
+Avon, she, somehow or other, generally managed to secure two out of
+three games.  It was a puzzling triangular duel: the chief feature of it
+was the splendid joy of the Laird when he had conquered the English
+young lady.  He rubbed his hands, he chuckled, he laughed--just as if he
+had been repeating one of his own "good ones."
+
+However, at luncheon the Laird was much more serious; for he was showing
+to us how remiss the Government was in not taking up the great solan
+question.  He had a newspaper cutting which gave in figures--in rows of
+figures--the probable number of millions of herrings destroyed every
+year by the solan-geese.  The injuries done to the herring-fisheries of
+this country, he proved to us, was enormous.  If a solan is known to eat
+on an average fifty herrings a day, just think of the millions on
+millions of fish that must go to feed those nests on the Bass Rock!  The
+Laird waxed quite eloquent about it.  The human race were dearer to him
+far than any gannet or family of gannets.
+
+"What I wonder at is this," said our young Doctor with a curious grim
+smile, that we had learned to know, coming over his face, "that the
+solan, with that extraordinary supply of phosphorus to the brain, should
+have gone on remaining only a bird, and a very ordinary bird, too.  Its
+brain-power should have been developed; it should be able to speak by
+this time.  In fact, there ought to be solan schoolboards and parochial
+boards on the Bass Rock; and commissioners appointed to inquire whether
+the building of nests might not be conducted on more scientific
+principles. When I was a boy--I am sorry to say--I used often to catch a
+solan by floating out a piece of wood with a dead herring on it: a wise
+bird, with its brain full of phosphorus, ought to have known that it
+would break its head when it swooped down on a piece of wood."
+
+The Laird sate in dignified silence.  There was something occult and
+uncanny about many of this young man's sayings--they savoured too much
+of the dangerous and unsettling tendencies of these modern days.
+Besides, he did not see what good could come of likening a lot of
+solan-geese to the Commissioners of the Burgh of Strathgovan.  His
+remarks on the herring-fisheries had been practical and intelligible;
+they had given no occasion for jibes.
+
+We were suddenly startled by the rattling out of the anchor-chain.  What
+could it mean?--were we caught in an eddy?  There was a scurrying up on
+deck, only to find that, having drifted so far south with the tide, and
+the tide beginning to turn, John of Skye proposed to secure what
+advantage we had gained by coming to anchor.  There was a sort of shamed
+laughter over this business.  Was the noble _White Dove_ only a river
+barge, then, that she was thus dependent on the tides for her progress?
+But it was no use either to laugh or to grumble; two of us proposed to
+row the Laird away to certain distant islands that lie off the shore
+north of the mouth of Loch Hourn; and for amusement's sake we took some
+towels with us.
+
+Look now how this long and shapely gig cuts the blue water.  The Laird
+is very dignified in the stern, with the tiller-ropes in his hand; he
+keeps a straight course enough--though he is mostly looking over the
+side. And, indeed, this is a perfect wonder-hall over which we are
+making our way--the water so clear that we notice the fish darting here
+and there among the great brown blades of the tangle and the long green
+sea-grass.  Then there are stretches of yellow sand, with shells and
+star-fish shining far below.  The sun burns on our hands; there is a
+dead stillness of heat; the measured splash of the oars startles the
+sea-birds in there among the rocks.
+
+_Send the biorlinn on careering,_
+_Cheerily and all together,_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long, strong pull together!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+Look out for the shallows, most dignified of coxswains: what if we were
+to imbed her bows in the silver sand?--
+
+_Another cheer!  Our isle appears--_
+_Our biorlinn bears her on the faster!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+_A long strong pull together!_
+  _Ho, ro, clansmen!_
+
+
+"Hold hard!" calls Denny-mains; and behold! we are in among a network of
+channels and small islands lying out here in the calm sea; and the birds
+are wildly calling and screaming and swooping about our heads, indignant
+at the approach of strangers.  What is our first duty, then, in coming
+to these unknown islands and straits?--why, surely, to name them in the
+interests of civilisation. And we do so accordingly.  Here--let it be
+for ever known--is John Smith Bay.  There, Thorley's Food for Cattle
+Island.  Beyond that, on the south, Brown and Poison's Straits. It is
+quite true that these islands and bays may have been previously visited;
+but it was no doubt a long time ago; and the people did not stop to
+bestow names.  The latitude and longitude may be dealt with afterwards;
+meanwhile the discoverers unanimously resolve that the most beautiful of
+all the islands shall hereafter, through all time, be known as the
+Island of Mary Avon.
+
+It was on this island that the Laird achieved his memorable capture of a
+young sea-bird--a huge creature of unknown species that fluttered and
+scrambled over bush and over scaur, while Denny-mains, quite forgetting
+his dignity and the heat of the sun, clambered after it over the rocks.
+And when he got it in his hands, it lay as one dead.  He was sorry.  He
+regarded the newly-fledged thing with compassion; and laid it tenderly
+down on the grass; and came away down again to the shore.  But he had
+scarcely turned his back when the demon bird got on its legs, and--with
+a succession of shrill and sarcastic "yawps"--was off and away over the
+higher ledges.  No fasting girl had ever shammed so completely as this
+scarcely-fledged bird.
+
+We bathed in Brown and Poison's Straits, to the great distress of
+certain sea-pyots that kept screaming over our heads, resenting the
+intrusion of the discoverers.  But in the midst of it, we were suddenly
+called to observe a strange darkness on the sea, far away in the north,
+between Glenelg and Skye.  Behold! the long-looked-for wind--a hurricane
+swooping down from the northern hills!  Our toilette on the hot rocks
+was of brief duration; we jumped into the gig; away we went through the
+glassy water!  It was a race between us and the northerly breeze which
+should reach the yacht first; and we could see that John of Skye had
+remarked the coming wind, for the men were hoisting the fore-staysail.
+The dark blue on the water spreads; the reflections of the hills and the
+clouds gradually disappear; as we clamber on board the first puffs of
+the breeze are touching the great sails.  The anchor has just been got
+up; the gig is hoisted to the davits; slack out the main sheet, you
+shifty Hector, and let the great boom go out! Nor is it any mere squall
+that has come down from the hills; but a fine, steady, northerly breeze;
+and away we go with the white foam in our wake.  Farewell to the great
+mountains over the gloomy Loch Hourn; and to the lighthouse over there
+at Isle Ornsay; and to the giant shoulders of Ard-na-Glishnich.  Are not
+these the dark green woods of Armadale that we see in the west?  And
+southward, and still southward we go with the running seas and the fresh
+brisk breeze from the north: who knows where we may not be tonight
+before Angus Sutherland's watch begins?
+
+There is but one thoughtful face on board. It is that of Mary Avon.  For
+the moment, at least, she seems scarcely to rejoice that we have at last
+got this grateful wind to bear us away to the south and to Castle
+Osprey.
+
+
+
+
+                             *CHAPTER XVI.*
+
+                          *THROUGH THE DARK.*
+
+_Ahead she goes! the land she knows!_
+
+
+What though we see a sudden squall come tearing over from the shores of
+Skye, whitening the waves as it approaches us?  The _White Dove_ is not
+afraid of any squall.  And there are the green woods of Armadale, dusky
+under the western glow; and here the sombre heights of Dun Bane; and
+soon we will open out the great gap of Loch Nevis.  We are running with
+the running waves; a general excitement prevails; even the Laird has
+dismissed for the moment certain dark suspicions about Frederick
+Smethurst that have for the last day or two been haunting his mind.
+
+And here is a fine sight!--the great steamer coming down from the
+north--and the sunset is burning on her red funnels--and behold! she has
+a line of flags from her stem to her top-masts and down to her stern
+again.  Who is on board?--some great laird, or some gay wedding-party?
+
+"Now is your chance, Angus," says Queen T., almost maliciously, as the
+steamer slowly gains on us.  "If you want to go on at once, I know the
+captain would stop for a minute and pick you up."
+
+He looked at her for a second in a quick, hurt way; then he saw that she
+was only laughing at him.
+
+"Oh, no, thank you," he said, blushing like a schoolboy; "unless you
+want to get rid of me. I have been looking forward to sailing the yacht
+to-night."
+
+"And--and you said," remarked Miss Avon, rather timidly, "that we should
+challenge them again after dinner this evening."
+
+This was a pretty combination: "we" referred to Angus Sutherland and
+herself.  Her elders were disrespectfully described as "them."  So the
+younger people had not forgotten how they were beaten by "them" on the
+previous evening.
+
+Is there a sound of pipes amid the throbbing of the paddles?  What a
+crowd of people swarm to the side of the great vessel!  And there is the
+captain on the paddle-box--out all handkerchiefs to return the
+innumerable salutations--and good-bye, you brave Glencoe!--you have no
+need to rob us of any one of our passengers.
+
+Where does the breeze come from on this still evening?--there is not a
+cloud in the sky, and there is a drowsy haze of heat all along the land.
+But nevertheless it continues; and, as the _White Dove_ cleaves her way
+through the tumbling sea, we gradually draw on to the Point of Sleat,
+and open out the great plain of the Atlantic, now a golden green, where
+the tops of the waves catch the light of the sunset skies.  And there,
+too, are our old friends Haleval and Haskeval; but they are so far away,
+and set amid such a bewildering light, that the whole island seems to be
+of a pale transparent rose-purple.  And a still stranger thing now
+attracts the eyes of all on board. The setting sun, as it nears the
+horizon-line of the sea, appears to be assuming a distinctly oblong
+shape.  It is slowly sinking into a purple haze, and becomes more and
+more oblong as it nears the sea.  There is a call for all the glasses
+hung up in the companion-way; and now what is it that we find out there
+by the aid of the various binoculars?  Why, apparently, a wall of
+purple; and there is an oblong hole in it, with a fire of gold light far
+away on the other side.  This apparent golden tunnel through the haze
+grows redder and more red; it becomes more and more elongated; then it
+burns a deeper crimson until it is almost a line. The next moment there
+is a sort of shock to the eyes; for there is a sudden darkness all along
+the horizon-line: the purple-black Atlantic is barred against that lurid
+haze low down in the west.
+
+It was a merry enough dinner-party: perhaps it was the consciousness
+that the _White Dove_ was still bowling along that brightened up our
+spirits, and made the Laird of Denny-mains more particularly loquacious.
+The number of good ones that he told us was quite remarkable--until his
+laughter might have been heard through the whole ship.  And to whom now
+did he devote the narration of those merry anecdotes--to whom but Miss
+Mary Avon, who was his ready chorus on all occasions, and who entered
+with a greater zest than any one into the humours of them.  Had she been
+studying the Lowland dialect, then, that she understood and laughed so
+lightly and joyously at stories about a thousand years of age?
+
+"Oh, ay," the Laird was saying patronisingly to her, "I see ye can enter
+into the peculiar humour of our Scotch stories; it is not every English
+person that can do that.  And ye understand the language fine....
+Well," he added, with an air of modest apology, "perhaps I do not give
+the pronunciation as broad as I might.  I have got out of the way of
+talking the provincial Scotch since I was a boy--indeed, ah'm generally
+taken for an Englishman maself--but I do my best to give ye the speerit
+of it."
+
+"Oh, I am sure your imitation of the provincial Scotch is most
+excellent--most excellent--and it adds so much to the humour of the
+stories," says this disgraceful young hypocrite.
+
+"Oh, ay, oh, ay," says the Laird, greatly delighted.  "I will admit that
+some o' the stories would not have so much humour but for the language.
+But when ye have both!  Did ye ever hear of the laddie who was called in
+to his porridge by his mother?"
+
+We perceived by the twinkle in the Laird's eyes that a real good one was
+coming.  He looked round to see that we were listening, but it was Mary
+Avon whom he addressed.
+
+"A grumbling bit laddie--a philosopher, too," said he.  "His mother
+thought he would come in the quicker if he knew there was a fly in the
+milk.  '_Johnny_,' she cried out, '_Johnny, come in to your parritch;
+there's a flee in the milk._'  '_It'll no droon,_' says he.  '_What!_'
+she says, '_grumblin again?  Do ye think there's no enough milk?'
+'Plenty for the parritch_,' says he--_kee! kee! kee!_--sharp, eh, wasn't
+eh?--'_Plenty for the parritch_,' says he--ha! ha! ho! ho! ho!"--and the
+Laird slapped his thigh, and chuckled to himself.  "Oh, ay, Miss Mary,"
+he added, approvingly, "I see you are beginning to understand the Scotch
+humour fine."
+
+And if our good friend the Laird had been but twenty years younger--with
+his battery of irresistible jokes, and his great and obvious affection
+for this stray guest of ours, to say nothing of his dignity and
+importance as a Commissioner of Strathgovan?  What chance would a poor
+Scotch student have had, with his test-tubes and his scientific
+magazines, his restless, audacious speculations and eager ambitions?  On
+the one side, wealth, ease, a pleasant facetiousness, and a comfortable
+acceptance of the obvious facts of the universe--including water-rates
+and steam fire-engines; on the other, poverty, unrest, the physical
+struggle for existence, the mental struggle with the mysteries of life:
+who could doubt what the choice would be?  However, there was no thought
+of this rivalry now.  The Laird had abdicated in favour of his nephew,
+Howard, about whom he had been speaking a good deal to Mary Avon of
+late.  And Angus--though he was always very kind and timidly attentive
+to Miss Avon--seemed nevertheless at times almost a little afraid of
+her; or perhaps it was only a vein of shyness that cropped up from time
+to time through his hard mental characteristics.  In any case, he was at
+this moment neither the shy lover nor the eager student; he was full of
+the prospect of having sole command of the ship during a long night on
+the Atlantic, and he hurried us up on deck after dinner without a word
+about that return-battle at bezique.
+
+The night had come on apace, though there was still a ruddy mist about
+the northern skies, behind the dusky purple of the Coolin hills. The
+stars were out overhead; the air around us was full of the soft cries of
+the divers; occasionally, amid the lapping of the water, we could hear
+some whirring by of wings.  Then the red port light and the green
+starboard light were brought up from the forecastle, and fixed in their
+place; the men went below; Angus Sutherland took the tiller; the Laird
+kept walking backwards and forwards as a sort of look-out; and the two
+women were as usual seated on rugs together in some invisible
+corner--crooning snatches of ballads, or making impertinent remarks
+about people much wiser and older than themselves.
+
+"Now, Angus," says the voice of one of them--apparently from somewhere
+about the companion, "show us that you can sail the yacht properly, and
+we will give you complete command during the equinoctials."
+
+"You speak of the equinoctials," said he, laughing, "as if it was quite
+settled I should be here in September."
+
+"Why not?" said she, promptly.  "Mary is my witness you promised.  You
+wouldn't go and desert two poor lone women?"
+
+"But I have got that most uncomfortable thing, a conscience," he
+answered; "and I know it would stare at me as if I were mad if I
+proposed to spend such a long time in idleness. It would be outraging
+all my theories, besides. You know, for years and years back I have been
+limiting myself in every way--living, for example, on the smallest
+allowance of food and drink, and that of the simplest and cheapest--so
+that if any need arose, I should have no luxurious habits to
+abandon----"
+
+"But what possible need can there be?" said Mary Avon, warmly.
+
+"Do you expect to spend your life in a jail?" said the other woman.
+
+"No," said he, quite simply.  "But I will give you an instance of what a
+man who devotes himself to his profession may have to do.  A friend of
+mine, who is one of the highest living authorities on _Materia Medica_,
+refused all invitations for three months, and during the whole of that
+time lived each day on precisely the same food and drink, weighed out in
+exact quantities, so as to determine the effect of particular drugs on
+himself.  Well, you know, you should be ready to do that----"
+
+"Oh, how wrong you are!" says Mary Avon, with the same impetuosity.  "A
+man who works as hard as you do should not sacrifice yourself to a
+theory.  And what is it?  It is quite foolish!"
+
+"Mary!" her friend says.
+
+"It is," she says, with generous warmth.  "It is like a man who goes
+through life with a coffin on his back, so that he may be ready for
+death.  Don't you think that when death comes it will be time enough to
+be getting the coffin?"
+
+This was a poser.
+
+"You know quite well," she says, "that when the real occasion offered,
+like the one you describe, you could deny yourself any luxuries readily
+enough; why should you do so now?"
+
+At this there was a gentle sound of laughter.
+
+"Luxuries--the luxuries of the _White Dove_!" says her hostess, mindful
+of tinned meats.
+
+"Yes, indeed," says our young Doctor, though he is laughing too.  "There
+is far too much luxury--the luxury of idleness--on board this yacht to
+be wholesome for one like me."
+
+"Perhaps you object to the effeminacy of the downy couches and the
+feather pillows," says his hostess, who is always grumbling about the
+hardness of the beds.
+
+But it appears that she has made an exceedingly bad shot.  The man at
+the wheel--one can just make out his dark figure against the clear
+starlit heavens, though occasionally he gets before the yellow light of
+the binnacle--proceeds to assure her that, of all the luxuries of
+civilisation, he appreciates most a horse-hair pillow; and that he
+attributes his sound sleeping on board the yacht to the hardness of the
+beds.  He would rather lay his head on a brick, he says, for a night's
+rest than sink it in the softest feathers.
+
+"Do you wonder," he says, "that Jacob dreamed of angels when he had a
+stone for his pillow?  I don't.  If I wanted to have a pleasant sleep
+and fine dreams that is the sort of pillow I should have."
+
+Some phrase of this catches the ear of our look-out forward; he
+instantly comes aft.
+
+"Yes, it is a singular piece of testimony," he says.  "There is no doubt
+of it; I have myself seen the very place."
+
+We were not startled; we knew that the Laird, under the guidance of a
+well-known Free Church minister, had made a run through Palestine.
+
+"Ay," said he, "the further I went away from my own country the more I
+saw nothing but decadence and meesery.  The poor craytures!--living
+among ruins, and tombs, and decay, without a trace of public spirit or
+private energy.  The disregard of sanitary laws was something terrible
+to look at--as bad as their universal beggary.  That is what comes of
+centralisation, of suppressing local government. Would ye believe that
+there are a lot of silly bodies actually working to get our Burgh of
+Strathgovan annexed to Glasgow--swallowed up in Glasgow!"
+
+"Impossible!" we exclaim.
+
+"I tell ye it is true.  But no, no!  We are not ripe yet for those
+Radical measures.  We are constituted under an Act of Parliament. Before
+the House of Commons would dare to annex the free and flourishing Burgh
+of Strathgovan to Glasgow, I'm thinking the country far and near would
+hear something of it!"
+
+Yes; and we think so, too.  And we think it would be better if the
+hamlets and towns of Palestine were governed by men of public spirit
+like the Commissioners of Strathgovan; then they would be properly
+looked after.  Is there a single steam fire-engine in Jericho?
+
+However, it is late; and presently the women say good-night and retire.
+And the Laird is persuaded to go below with them also; for how otherwise
+could he have his final glass of toddy in the saloon?  There are but two
+of us left on deck, in the darkness, under the stars.
+
+It is a beautiful night, with those white and quivering points overhead,
+and the other white and burning points gleaming on the black waves that
+whirl by the yacht.  Beyond the heaving plain of waters there is nothing
+visible but the dusky gloom of the Island of Eigg, and away in the south
+the golden eye of Ardnamurchan lighthouse, for which we are steering.
+Then the intense silence--broken only when the wind, changing a little,
+gybes the sails and sends the great boom swinging over on to the lee
+tackle.  It is so still that we are startled by the sudden noise of the
+blowing of a whale; and it sounds quite close to the yacht, though it is
+more likely that the animal is miles away.
+
+"She is a wonderful creature--she is indeed," says the man at the wheel;
+as if every one must necessarily be thinking about the same person.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Your young English friend.  Every minute of her life seems to be an
+enjoyment to her; she sings just as a bird sings, for her own amusement,
+and without thinking."
+
+"She can think, too; she is not a fool."
+
+"Though she does not look very strong," continues the young Doctor, "she
+must have a thoroughly healthy constitution, or how could she have such
+a happy disposition?  She is always contented; she is never put out.  If
+you had only seen her patience and cheerfulness when she was attending
+that old woman--many a time I regretted it--the case was hopeless--a
+hired nurse would have done as well."
+
+"Hiring a nurse might not have satisfied the young lady's notions of
+duty."
+
+"Well, I've seen women in sick-rooms, but never any one like her," said
+he, and then he added, with a sort of emphatic wonder, "I'm hanged if
+she did not seem to enjoy that, too! Then you never saw any one so
+particular about following out instructions."
+
+It is here suggested to our steersman that he himself may be a little
+too particular about following out instructions.  For John of Skye's
+last counsel was to keep Ardnamurchan light on our port bow.  That was
+all very well when we were off the north of Eigg; but is Dr. Sutherland
+aware that the south point of Eigg--Eilean-na-Castle--juts pretty far
+out; and is not that black line of land coming uncommonly close on our
+starboard bow?  With some reluctance our new skipper consents to alter
+his course by a couple of points; and we bear away down for
+Ardnamurchan.
+
+And of what did he not talk during the long starlit night--the person
+who ought to have been lookout sitting contentedly aft, a mute
+listener?--of the strange fears that must have beset the people who
+first adventured out to sea; of the vast expenditure of human life that
+must have been thrown away in the discovery of the most common facts
+about currents and tides and rocks; and so forth, and so forth. But ever
+and again his talk returned to Mary Avon.
+
+"What does the Laird mean by his suspicions about her uncle?" he asked
+on one occasion--just as we had been watching a blue-white bolt flash
+down through the serene heavens and expire in mid-air.
+
+"Mr. Frederick Smethurst has an ugly face."
+
+"But what does he mean about those relations between the man with the
+ugly face and his niece?"
+
+"That is idle speculation.  Frederick Smethurst was her trustee, and
+might have done her some mischief--that is, if he is an out-and-out
+scoundrel; but that is all over.  Mary is mistress of her own property
+now."
+
+Here the boom came slowly swinging over; and presently there were all
+the sheets of the head-sails to be looked after--tedious work enough for
+amateurs in the darkness of the night.
+
+Then further silence; and the monotonous rush and murmur of the unseen
+sea; and the dark topmast describing circles among the stars. We get up
+one of the glasses to make astronomical observations, but the heaving of
+the boat somewhat interferes with this quest after knowledge.  Whoever
+wants to have a good idea of forked lightning has only to take up a
+binocular on board a pitching yacht, and try to fix it on a particular
+planet.
+
+The calm, solemn night passes slowly; the red and green lights shine on
+the black rigging; afar in the south burns the guiding star of
+Ardnamurchan.  And we have drawn away from Eigg now, and passed the open
+sound; and there, beyond the murmuring sea, is the doom of the Island of
+Muick.  All the people below are wrapped in slumber; the cabins are
+dark; there is only a solitary candle burning in the saloon.  It is a
+strange thing to be responsible for the lives of those sleeping
+folk--out here on the lone Atlantic, in the stillness of the night.
+
+Our young Doctor bears his responsibility lightly.  He has--for a
+wonder--laid aside his pipe; and he is humming a song that he has heard
+Mary Avon singing of late--something about
+
+    O think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa',
+    For I'll come and see ye in spite o' them a',
+
+and he is wishing the breeze would blow a bit harder--and wondering
+whether the wind will die away altogether when we get under the lee of
+Ardnamurchan Point.
+
+But long before we have got down to Ardnamurchan, there is a pale grey
+light beginning to tell in the eastern skies; and the stars are growing
+fainter; and the black line of the land is growing clearer above the
+wrestling seas.  Is it a fancy that the first light airs of the morning
+are a trifle cold?  And then we suddenly see, among the dark rigging
+forward, one or two black figures; and presently John of Skye comes aft,
+rubbing his eyes.  He has had a good sleep at last.
+
+Go below, then, you stout-sinewed young Doctor; you have had your desire
+of sailing the _White Dove_ through the still watches of the night.  And
+soon you will be asleep, with your head on the hard pillow of that
+little state-room and though the pillow is not as hard as a stone, still
+the night and the sea and the stars are quickening to the brain; and who
+knows that you may not perchance after all dream of angels, or hear some
+faint singing far away?
+
+                     *      *      *      *      *
+
+_There was Mary Beaton--and Mary Seaton----_
+
+                     *      *      *      *      *
+
+Or is it only a sound of the waves?
+
+
+
+
+                             END OF VOL. I.
+
+
+
+
+         LONDON: R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, BREAD STREET HILL.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I (OF 3) ***
+
+
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