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diff --git a/43830.txt b/43830.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c17ce7f..0000000 --- a/43830.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5946 +0,0 @@ - WHITE WINGS, VOLUME III - - - - -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 III - A Yachting Romance -Author: William Black -Release Date: September 27, 2013 [EBook #43830] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITE WINGS, VOLUME III (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. III. - - - - London: - MACMILLAN AND CO. - 1880. - - _The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved._ - - - - - LONDON: - R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR. - BREAD STREET HILL. - - - - - *CONTENTS.* - - - CHAPTER I. - -A CONFESSION - - CHAPTER II. - -ONLY A HEADACHE - - CHAPTER III. - -IN THE DARK - - CHAPTER IV. - -TO ABSENT FRIENDS! - - CHAPTER V. - -SUSPICIONS - - CHAPTER VI. - -CERTAINTY - - CHAPTER VII. - -A PARABLE - - CHAPTER VIII. - -A RELEASE - - CHAPTER IX. - -"WHILE THE RIPPLES FOLD UPON SANDS OF GOLD" - - CHAPTER X. - -BACKWARD THOUGHTS - - CHAPTER XI. - -A TOAST - - CHAPTER XII. - -EXPECTATIONS - - CHAPTER XIII. - -"YE ARE WELCOME, GLENOGIE!" - - CHAPTER XIV. - -THE EQUINOCTIALS AT LAST - - CHAPTER XV. - -"FLIEH! AUF! HINAUS!" - - CHAPTER XVI. - -AFTER THE GALE - - CHAPTER XVII. - -"A GOOD ONE FOR THE LAST" - - CHAPTER XVIII. - -ADIEU - - - - - *WHITE WINGS:* - - *A Yachting Romance.* - - - - *CHAPTER I.* - - *A CONFESSION.* - - -What could the solitary scouts, coming back from the various points of -the island, know of this quick, unwilling cry of pain, and of the forced -calm that followed it? They had their own sorrows. There was a gloom -upon their faces. One and all bore the same story--not a seal, not a -wild duck, not even a rock pigeon anywhere. - -"But it is a fine thing to be able to straighten one's back," says the -Laird, who always seizes on the cheerful side; "and we have not given up -hope of your getting the sealskin yet, Miss Mary--no, no. The Doctor -says they are away hunting just now; when the tide gets low again they -will come up on the rocks. So the best thing we can do is to spend -plenty of time over our luncheon, and cross the island again in the -afternoon. Aye; begun already?" adds the Laird, as he goes up to the -canvas, and regards the rough outlines in charcoal with a critical air. -"Very good! very good!" he says, following the lines with his thumb, and -apparently drawing in the air. "Excellent! The composeetion very -clever indeed--simple, bold, striking. And a fine blaze of colour ye'll -have on a day like this; and then the heavy black hull of the smack bang -in the foreground: excellent, excellent! But if I were you, I would -leave out that rock there; ye would get a better sweep of the sea. -Don't distract the eye in sea pieces; bold lines--firm, sound colour: -and there ye are. Well, my lass, ye have the skill of constructing a -picture. Tom Galbraith himself would admit that, I know----" - - -But here the Laird is called away by his hostess. - -"I would advise you, sir," says she, "to have some luncheon while you -can get it. It is a very strange thing, with all you gentlemen on -board, and with all those guns lying about, but we are drawing nearer -and nearer to starvation. I wish you would give up hunting seals, and -shoot something useful." - -Here our young Doctor appears with certain bottles that have been -cooling in the water. - -"There must be plenty of rock pigeons in the caves we passed this -morning, on the other island," he says. - -"Oh, not those beautiful birds!" says she of the empty larder. "We -cannot have Hurlingham transported to the Highlands." - -"Whoever trys to shoot those pigeons won't find it a Hurlingham -business," he remarks. - -But the Laird has a soul above luncheons, and larders, and -pigeon-shooting. He is still profoundly absorbed in thought. - -"No," he says, at length, to the young lady who, as usual, is by his -side. "I am wrong!" - -She looks up at him with some surprise. - -"Yes, I am wrong," he says, decisively. "Ye must keep in that island. -Ye must sacrifice picturesqueness to truth. Never mind the picture: -keep the faithful record. In after life ye will be able to get plenty -of pictures; but ye may not be able to get an exact record of the things -ye saw when ye were sailing with the _White Dove_." - -"Well, you know, sir," observes Miss Avon, with a somewhat embarrassed -smile, "you don't give me much encouragement. You always speak as if I -were to be compelled to keep those sketches. Am I to find nobody silly -enough to buy them?" - -Now, somehow or other of late, the Laird has been more and more inclined -to treat the sale of Mary Avon's pictures as a most irresistible joke. -He laughs and chuckles at the mere mention of such a thing, just as if -Homesh were somewhere about. - -"Sell them!" he says, with another deep chuckle. "Ye will never sell -them. Ye could not have the heart to part with them." - -"The heart has to be kept in proper subjection," says she, lightly, -"when one has to earn one's living." - -Queen Titania glances quickly at the girl; but apparently there is no -profound meaning concealed in this speech. Miss Avon has taken her seat -on a shelving piece of grey rock; and, if she is concerned about -anything, it is about the safety of certain plates and knives and such -things. Her hand is quite steady as she holds out her tumbler for the -Youth to pour some water into the claret. - -Luncheon over, she returns to her work; and the band of seal-hunters, -taking to cigars and pipes, sit and watch the tide slowly ebb away from -the golden-brown seaweed. Then, with many a caution as to patience and -silence, they rise and get their guns and set out. Already there is a -disposition to slouch the head and walk timidly; though as yet there is -no need of any precaution. - -"_Glueckliche Reise!_" says Miss Avon, pleasantly, as we pass. - -Angus Sutherland starts, and turns his head. But the salutation was not -for him; it was meant for the Youth, who is understood to be the most -eager of the seal-hunters. And Mr. Smith, not having his answer pat, -replies, "I hope so;" and then looks rather confused as he passes on, -carefully stooping his head though there is no occasion whatever. - -Then, by following deep gullies and crawling over open ledges, we reach -points commanding the various bays; and with the utmost caution peer -over or round the rocks. And whereas yesterday, being Sunday, the bays -were alive with seals, disporting themselves freely in full view of a -large party of people who were staring at them, to-day, being Monday, -finds not a seal visible anywhere, though every one is in hiding, and -absolute silence must have reigned in the island, ever since the lobster -fishers left in the morning. No matter; the tide is still ebbing; the -true hunter must possess his soul. - -And yet this lying prone for hours on a ledge of exceedingly rough rock -must have been monotonous work for our good friend the Laird. Under his -nose nothing to look at but scraps of orange lichen and the stray -feathers of sea birds; abroad nothing but the glassy blue sea, with the -pale mountains of Jura rising into the cloudless sky. At last it seemed -to become intolerable. We could see him undergoing all sorts of -contortions in the effort to wrest something out of his coat-pocket -without raising any portion of his body above the line of cover. He -himself was not unlike a grey seal in the shadow of the rock, especially -when he twisted and turned himself about without rising an inch from the -surface. And in time he succeeded. We could see him slowly and -carefully unfold that newspaper--probably not more than a week old--just -beneath his face. He had no need of spectacles: his eyes were almost -touching the page. And then we knew that he was at rest; and the hard -rock and the seals all forgotten. For we took it that this local paper -was one which had written a most important leading article about the -proposed public park for Strathgovan, calling upon the ratepayers to -arise and assert their rights and put a check on the reckless -extravagance of the Commissioners. The Laird himself was openly pointed -at as one who would introduce the luxury of the later Romans into a -sober Scotch community; and there were obscure references to those who -seemed to consider that a man's dwelling-house should become nothing -more nor less than a museum of pictures and statues, while they would -apply taxes raised from a hard-working population in the adornment of -places of recreation for the idle. But do you think that the Laird was -appalled by this fierce onslaught? Not a bit of it. He had read and -re-read it to us with delight. He had triumphantly refuted the writer's -sophistries; he had exposed his ignorance of the most elementary facts -in political economy; he was always rejoiced to appear before Tom -Galbraith and Mary Avon as one who was not afraid to suffer for his -championship of art. And then, when he had triumphed over his enemy, he -would fold the paper with a sort of contented sigh; and would say with a -compassionate air, "Poor crayture! poor crayture!" as if the poor -crayture could not be expected to know any better. - -At last--at last! The Laird makes frantic gestures with his -newspaper--all the more frantic that they have to be strictly lateral, -and that he dare not raise his hand. And behold! far away out there on -the still, blue surface, a smooth round knob, shining and black. -Without a muscle moving, eager eyes follow that distant object. The -seal is not alarmed or suspicious; he sails evenly onward, seldom -looking to right or left. And when he disappears there is no splash; he -has had enough of breathing; he is off for his hunting in the deep seas. - -What is more, he remains there. We catch no further trace of him, nor -of any other living thing around those deserted bays. Human nature -gives in. The Youth gets up, and boldly displays himself on a -promontory, his gun over his shoulder. Then the Laird, seeing that -everything is over, gets up too, yawning dreadfully, and folds his -newspaper, and puts it in his pocket. - -"Come along!" he calls out. "It is no use. The saints have taught the -seals tricks. They know better than to come near on a working day." - -And so presently the sombre party sets out again for the other side of -the island, where the gig awaits us. Not a word is said. Cartridges -are taken out; we pick our way through the long grass and the stones. -And when it is found that Miss Avon has roughed in all that she requires -of her present study, it is gloomily suggested that we might go back by -way of the other island, that so haply we might secure the materials for -a pigeon pie before returning to the yacht. - -The evening sun was shining ruddily along the face of the cliffs as we -drew near the other island; and there was no sign of life at all about -the lonely shores and the tall caves. But there was another story to -tell when, the various guns having been posted, the Youth boldly walked -up to the mouth of the largest of the caves, and shouted. Presently -there were certain flashes of blue things in the mellow evening light; -and the sharp bang! bang! of the gun, that echoed into the great -hollows. Hurlingham? That did not seem much of a Hurlingham -performance. There were no birds standing bewildered on the fallen -trap, wondering whether to rise or not; but there were things coming -whizzing through the air that resembled nothing so much as rifle bullets -with blue wings. The Youth, it is true, got one or two easy shots at -the mouth of the cave; but when the pigeons got outside and came -flashing over the heads of the others, the shooting was, on the whole, a -haphazard business. Nevertheless, we got a fair number for Master -Fred's larder, after two of the men had acted as retrievers for -three-quarters of an hour among the rocks and bushes. Then away again -for the solitary vessel lying in the silent loch, with the pale mists -stealing over the land, and the red sun sinking behind the Jura hills. - -Again, after dinner, amid the ghostly greys of the twilight, we went -forth on another commissariat excursion, to capture fish. Strange to -say, however, our Doctor, though he was learned on the subject of flies -and tackle, preferred to remain on board: he had some manuscript to send -off to London. And his hostess said she would remain too; she always has -plenty to do about the saloon. Then we left the _White Dove_ and rowed -away to the rocks. - -But the following conversation, as we afterwards heard, took place in -our absence:-- - -"I wished very much to speak to you," said Angus Sutherland, to his -hostess, without making any movement to bring out his desk. - -"I thought so," said she; not without a little nervous apprehension. - -And then she said quickly, before he could begin-- - -"Let me tell you at once, Angus, that I have spoken to Mary. Of course, -I don't wish to interfere; I wouldn't interfere for the world; but--but -I only asked her, lest there should be any unpleasant misapprehension, -whether she had any reason to be offended with you. 'None in the -least,' she said. She was most positive. She even seemed to be deeply -pained by the misunderstanding; and--and wished me to let you know; so -you must dismiss that from your mind any way." - -He listened thoughtfully, without saying anything. At last he said-- - -"I have determined to be quite frank with you. I am going to tell you a -secret--if it is a secret----" - -"I have guessed it," she said, quickly, to spare him pain. - -"I thought so," he said, quite quietly. "Well; I am not ashamed of it. -I have no reason to be ashamed of it. But, since you know, you will see -that it would be very embarrassing for me to remain longer on board the -yacht if--if there was no hope----" - -He turned over the leaves of a guide-book rapidly, without looking at -them; the hard-headed Doctor had not much command over himself at this -moment. - -"If you have guessed, why not she?" he said, in a somewhat hurried and -anxious manner. "And--and--if I am to go, better that I should know at -once. I--I have nothing to complain of--I mean I have nothing to -reproach her with--if it is a misfortune, it is a misfortune--but--but -she used to be more friendly towards me." - -These two were silent. What was passing before their minds? The long -summer nights in the far northern seas, with the glory dying in the -west; or the moonlight walks on the white deck, with the red star of -Ushinish lighthouse burning in the south; or the snug saloon below, with -its cards, and candles, and laughter, and Mary Avon singing to herself -the song of Ulva? She sang no song of Ulva now. - -"Mary and I are very intimate friends," says the other deliberately. "I -will say nothing against her. Girls have curious fancies about such -things sometimes. But I must admit--for you are my friend too--that I -am not surprised you should have been encouraged by her manner to you at -one time, or that you should wonder a little at the change." - -But even this mild possibility of Mary Avon's being in the wrong she -feels to be incompatible with her customary championship of her friend; -and so she instantly says-- - -"Mind, I am certain of this--that whatever Mary does, she believes to be -right. Her notion of duty is extraordinarily sensitive and firm. Once -she has put anything before her as the proper thing to be done, she goes -straight at it; and nothing will turn her aside. And although there is -something about it I can't quite understand, how am I to interfere? -Interference never does any good. Why do not you ask her yourself?" - -"I mean to do so, when I get the chance," said he, simply. "I merely -wished to tell you that, if her answer is 'No,' it will be better for me -to leave you. Already I fancy my being on board the yacht is a trouble -to her. I will not be a trouble to her. I can go. If it is a -misfortune, there is no one to blame." - -"But if she says '_Yes!_'" cried his friend; and there was a wonderful -joy in her eyes, and in her excess of sympathy she caught his hand for a -moment. "Oh, Angus, if Mary were to promise to be your wife! What a -trip we should have then--we should take the _White Dove_ to Stornoway!" - -That was her ultimate notion of human happiness--sailing the _White -Dove_ up to Stornoway! - -"I don't think there is much hope," said he, rather absently, "from her -manner of late. But anything is better than suspense. If it is a -misfortune, as I say, there is no one to blame. I had not the least -notion that she knew Mr. Howard Smith in London." - -"Nor did she." - -He stared rather. - -"They may have met at our house; but certainly not more than once. You -see, living in a country house, we have to have our friends down in a -_staccato_ fashion, and always by arrangement of a few at a time. There -is no general dropping in to afternoon tea." - -"He never met her in London?" he repeated. - -"I should think not." - -"His uncle, then: did she never see him before?" - -"Certainly not." - -"Then what does he mean by treating her as a sort of familiar friend who -was likely to turn up any time at Denny-mains?" - -His companion coloured somewhat; for she had no right to betray -confidences. - -"The Laird is very fond of Mary," she said, evasively. "It is quite -beautiful to see those two together." - -He sate for a little time in silence; and then begged to be excused--he -would go on deck to smoke. But when, some little time thereafter, we -returned from our brief fishing, the dark figure walking up and down the -deck was not smoking at all. He paused as the gig was hauled fast to -the gangway. - -"What luck?" - -"About two dozen." - -"All lithe?" - -"About half-a-dozen mackerel." - -And then he assisted Mary Avon to ascend the small wooden steps. She -said "Thank you!" as she withdrew her hand from his; but the words were -uttered in a low voice; and she instantly crossed to the companion and -went below. He stayed on deck, and helped to swing the gig up to the -davits. - -Now something had got into the head of our Admiral-in-chief that night. -She was very merry; and very affectionate towards Mary. She made light -of her foolish wish to go away to the south. She pointed out that this -continuous fine weather was only hoarding up electricity for the -equinoctials; and then we should have a spin! - -"We are not going to let you go, Mary; that is the long and the short of -it. And we are going to keep hold of Angus, too. He is not going away -yet--no, no. We have something for him to do. We shall not rest -satisfied until we see him sail the _White Dove_ into Stornoway -harbour!" - - - - - *CHAPTER II.* - - *ONLY A HEADACHE.* - - -Stornoway harbour, indeed! The weather was laughing at us. The glass -had steadily fallen until it had got about as low as it could go with -decency; and yet this next morning was more beautiful, and bright, and -calm than ever! Were we to be for ever confined in this remote Loch of -the Burying Place? - -"Angus! Angus! where are you?" the Admiral calls out, as she comes up -on deck. - -"Here I am," calls out a voice in return, from the cross-trees. - -She raises her head, and perceives the ruddy-faced Doctor hanging on by -the ratlines. - -"Where is the fine sailing weather you were to bring us--eh?" - -"I have been looking for it," he replies, as he comes down the rigging; -"and there is not a breath anywhere." - -"Very well," she says, promptly; "I'll tell you what you must do. You -must get everybody who can handle a gun into the gig and go away up to -the head of the loch there, and shoot every living thing you can see. -Do you understand? We are on the brink of starvation! We are -perishing! Do you want us to boil tarred rope into soup?" - -"No," he says, humbly. - -"Very well. Away you go. If you can't bring us any wind to take us -into a civilised place, you must provide us with food; is that clear -enough?" - -Here Captain John comes aft, touching his cap. - -"Good morning mem! I was never seeing the like of this weather, mem." - -"I don't want to see any more of it," she says, sharply. "Did you bring -us in here because there was a convenient place to bury us in? Do you -know that we are dying of starvation?" - -"Oh, no, mem!" says Captain John, with a grin; but looking rather -concerned all the same. - -However, her attention is quickly called away by the sound of oars. She -turns and regards this small boat approaching the yacht; and the more -she looks the more do her eyes fill with astonishment. - -"Well, I declare!" she says, "this is about the coolest thing I have -seen for ages." - -For it is Miss Mary Avon who is rowing the dingay back to the yacht; and -her only companion is the Youth, who is contentedly seated in the stern, -with his gun laid across his knees. - -"Good morning, Mr. Smith!" she says, with the most gracious sarcasm. -"Pray don't exert yourself too much. Severe exercise before breakfast -is very dangerous." - -The Youth lays hold of the rope; there is a fine blush on his handsome -face. - -"It is Miss Avon's fault," he says; "she would not let me row." - -"I suppose she expected you to shoot? Where are the duck, and the snipe, -and the golden plover? Hand them up!" - -"If you want to see anything in the shape of game about this coast, -you'd better wait till next Sunday," says he, somewhat gloomily. - -However, after breakfast, we set out for the shallow head of the loch; -and things do not turn out so badly after all. For we have only left -the yacht some few minutes when there is a sudden whirring of wings--a -call of "Duck! duck!"--and the Doctor, who is at the bow, and who is the -only one who is ready, fires a snap-shot at the birds. Much to -everybody's amazement, one drops, and instantly dives. Then begins an -exciting chase. The biorlinn is sent careering with a vengeance; the -men strain every muscle; and then another cry directs attention to the -point at which the duck has reappeared. It is but for a second. Though -he cannot fly, he can swim like a fish; and from time to time, as the -hard pulling enables us to overtake him, we can see him shooting this -way or that through the clear water. Then he bobs his head up, some -thirty or forty yards off; and there is another snap-shot--the charge -rattling on the water the fifth part of an instant _after_ he -disappears. - -"Dear me!" says the Laird; "that bird will cost us ten shillings in -cartridges." - -But at last he is bagged. A chance shot happens to catch him before he -dives; he is stretched on the water, with his black webbed feet in the -air; and a swoop of Captain John's arm brings him dripping into the gig. -And then our natural history is put to the test. This is no gay-plumaged -sheldrake, or blue-necked mallard, or saw-toothed merganser. It is a -broad-billed duck, of a sooty black and grey; we begin to regret our -expenditure of cartridges; experiments on the flavour of unknown sea -birds are rarely satisfactory. But Captain John's voice is -authoritative and definite. "It is a fine bird," he says. And Master -Fred has already marked him for his own. - -Then among the shallows at the head of the loch there is many a wild -pull after broods of flappers, and random firing at the circling curlew. -The air is filled with the calling of the birds; and each successive -shot rattles away with its echo among the silent hills. What is the -result of all this noise and scramble? Not much, indeed; for right in -the middle of it we are attracted by a strange appearance in the south. -That dark line beyond the yacht: is it a breeze coming up the loch? -Instantly the chase after mergansers ceases; cartridges are taken out; -the two or three birds we have got are put out of the way; and the -Laird, taking the tiller ropes, sits proud and erect. Away go the four -oars with the precision of machinery; and the long sweep sends the gig -ahead at a swinging pace. Behold! behold! the dark blue on the water -widening! Is it a race between the wind and the gig as to which will -reach the _White Dove_ first? "Give me your oar, Fred!" says the Doctor, -who is at the bow. - -There is but a momentary pause. Again the shapely boat swings along; -and with the measured beat of the oars comes the old familiar chorus-- - -_... Cheerily, and all together!_ - _Ho, ro, clansmen!_ -_A long, strong pull together!--_ - _Ho, ro, clansmen!_ -_Soon the flowing breeze will blow;_ -_We'll show the snowy canvas on her--_ - _Ho, ro, clansmen!_ -_A long, strong pull together!--_ - _Ho, ro, clansmen!_ -_Wafted by the breeze of morn_ -_We'll quaff the joyous horn together!--_ - _Ho, ro, clansmen!_ -_A long, strong pull together!--_ - _Ho, ro, clansmen!_ - - -"We'll beat! we'll beat!" cries the Laird, in great delight. "Give it -her, boys! Not one halfpennyworth o' that wind will we lose!" - -The bow cleaves the blue water; the foam hisses away from her rudder. -It is a race of the North against the South. Then the chorus again-- - - _Ho, ro, clansmen!_ -_A long, strong pull together!--_ - _Ho, ro, clansmen!_ - - -Hurrah! hurrah! As the gig is run alongside, and guns and birds handed -up, that spreading blue has not quite reached the yacht; there is no -appreciable stir of the lazy ensign. But there is little time to be -lost. The amateurs swing the gig to the davits, while the men are -getting in the slack of the anchor chain; the women are incontinently -bundled below, to be out of the way of flapping sheets. Then, all hands -at the halyards! And by the time the great White Wings are beginning to -spread, the breeze stirs the still air around us; and the peak sways -gently this way and that; and they who are hard at work at the windlass -are no doubt grateful for this cool blowing from the south. Then there -is a cessation of noise; we become vaguely aware that we are moving. At -last the _White Dove_ has spread her wings; her head is turned towards -the south. Good-bye! you lonely loch, with the silent shores and the -silent tombs--a hundred farewells to you, wherever we may be going! - -And slowly we beat down the loch, against this light southerly breeze. -But as we get further and further into the open, surely there is -something in the air and in the appearance of the southern sky that -suggests that the glass has not been falling for nothing. The sea is -smooth; but there is a strange gloom ahead of us; and beyond the islands -that we visited yesterday nothing is visible but a wan and sultry glare. -Then, afar, we can hear a noise as of the approach of some storm; but -perhaps it is only the low sound of the swirling of the tides round the -shores. Presently another sound attracts attention--a murmured hissing, -and it comes nearer and nearer; dark spots, about the size of a -threepenny-piece, appear on the white decks. The women have scarcely -time to send below for their sunshades when the slight shower passes -by--the decks are not even left damp. Then further and further we creep -away towards the south; but where we expected to catch some far glimpse -of the Irish coast--the blue line of Rathlin or the Antrim cliffs--there -is only that dim, sultry haze. - -Then another sound--a dull _flop! flop!_--in the distance; and the -stragglers who have remained below after luncheon are hastily summoned -on deck. And there, far away in the haze, we can dimly descry the -successive curved forms of a school of dolphins, racing each other, and -springing twenty or thirty feet in the air before they come down with -that heavy thud on the water. Those of us who have watched the -beautiful lithe fish racing and chasing by the side of an Atlantic -vessel, would fain have been somewhat nearer; but we can only see the -dim forms springing into the haze. Then the dull pistol-shots in the -south slowly cease, and we are left alone on the low murmuring sea. - -"But where is Miss Mary?" says the Laird, suddenly becoming aware of the -absence of his chief companion. - -"Oh, she is in the saloon!" says his hostess, quickly and anxiously. -"She is doing something to one of her water-colours. I suppose we must -not disturb her." - -"No, no; certainly not," returns the Laird, lightly; and then he adds, -with a smile which is meant to be very significant, "There is never any -harm in hard work. Let her go on; she will have a fine collection of -sketches before she leaves the _White Dove_." - -But our Queen Tita does not respond to that careless joke. There is a -curious, constrained look on her face; and she quite peremptorily -negatives a suggestion of the Youth that he should go below for the -draught-board. Then one of us perceives that Angus Sutherland is not on -deck. - -Has the opportunity come at last, then, for the clearing away of all -secret troubles? What end is there to be to this momentous interview? -Is it Stornoway harbour? Is our frank-eyed young Doctor to come up with -a silent wonder and joy on his face--a message that needs no speech--a -message that only says, "About with the yacht, and let us run away to -the northern seas and Stornoway?" The friend of these two young people -can hardly conceal her anxiety. She has got hold of the case of an -opera glass, and opens and shuts it quickly and aimlessly. Then there -is a step on the companion way; she does not look; she only knows that -Angus Sutherland comes on deck, and then goes forward to the bow of the -gig, and stands by himself, and looks out to sea. - -There is silence on board; for a low rumble of thunder has been heard -once or twice, and we are listening. The mountains of Jura are dark -now, and the sultry mist in the south is deeper in its gloom. This -condition of the atmosphere produces a vague sense of something about to -happen, which is in itself uncomfortable; one would almost like to see a -flash of lightning, or hear the thunderous advance of a storm breaking -in upon the oppressive calm. - -The Laird goes forward to Angus Sutherland. - -"Well, Doctor, and what think ye of the weather now?" - -The younger man starts and turns round, and for a second looks at the -Laird as if he had not quite comprehended the question. - -"Oh, yes!" he says. "You are quite right. It does look as if we were -going to have a dirty night." - -And with that he turns to the sea again. - -"Aye," says the Laird, sententiously. "I am glad we are in a boat we -need have no fear of--none! Keep her away from the shore, and we are -all right. But--but I suppose we will get into some harbour to-night, -after all?" - -"It does not matter," he says, absently; and then he goes away up to the -bow. He is alone there; for the men have gone below for dinner--with -the exception of John of Skye, who is at the helm. - -Presently the special friend of the young man puts aside that -opera-glass case, and walks timidly forward to the bow of the yacht. -She regards him somewhat anxiously; but his face is turned away from -her--looking over to the gloomy Jura hills. - -"Angus," she says, briskly, "are we not going very near Jura, if it is -West Loch Tarbert we are making for?" - -He turned to her then, and she saw by his face that something had -happened. - -"You have spoken to her, Angus?" she said, in a low voice; and her -earnest, kind eyes regarded the young man as if to anticipate his -answer. - -"Yes." - -For a second or so he seemed disinclined to say more; but presently he -added, scarcely looking at her-- - -"I am sorry that I must leave you the first time we get near land." - -"Oh, Angus!" - -It was almost a cry--uttered in that low, piteous voice. Then he looked -at her. - -"You have been very kind to me," said he, so that no one should hear. -"It is only a misfortune. But I wish I had never seen the _White -Dove_." - -"Oh, Angus; don't say that!" - -"It is my own fault. I should never have come from Edinburgh. I knew -that. I knew I was hazarding everything. And she is not to blame----" - -He could say no more, for one or two of the men now came up from the -forecastle. His hostess left him and went aft, with a hurt and -indignant look on her face. When the Laird asked why Miss Mary did not -come on deck, she said, "I don't know," with an air which said she had -ceased to take any further care in Mary Avon's actions. And at dinner, -what heed did she pay to the fact that Mary Avon was rather white, and -silent, and pained-looking? She had been disappointed. She had not -expected the friend of her bosom to act in this heartless manner. And -as for Howard Smith, she treated that young gentleman with a cold -courtesy which rather astonished him. - -After dinner, when the men folk had gone on deck, and when she was -preparing to go too, a timid, appealing hand was laid on her arm. - -"I would like to speak to you," said the low voice of Mary Avon. - -Then she turned--only for a second. - -"I think I know enough of what has happened, Mary," said she; "and it -would not be right for me to intermeddle. Young people are the best -judges of their own affairs." - -The appealing hand was withdrawn; the girl retired to the saloon, and -sate down alone. - -But here, on deck, an eager council of war was being held; and Angus -Sutherland was as busy as any one with the extended chart--the soundings -barely visible in the waning light--and proposals and counter proposals -were being freely bandied about. Night was coming on; dirty-looking -weather seemed to be coming up from the south; and the mouth of West -Loch Tarbert is narrow and shallow in parts, and studded with rocks--a -nasty place to enter in the dark. Moreover, when should we get there, -beating against this south-easterly wind? What if we were to put her -head round, and run for some improvised harbour among the small islands -under the shadow of the Jura hills, and wait there for daylight to show -us across the Sound? - -There was but one dissentient. Angus Sutherland seemed oddly anxious to -get to West Loch Tarbert. He would himself take the helm all night; if -only the men would take their turn at the look-out, one at a time. He -was sure he could make the channel, if we reached the mouth of the loch -before daylight. What! with nothing shallower on the chart than four -fathoms! How could there be any danger? - -But the more prudent counsels of John of Skye at length prevail, and -there is a call to the men forward to stand by. Then down goes the -helm; her head slews round with a rattling of blocks and cordage; the -sheets of the head-sails are belayed to leeward; and then, with the boom -away over the starboard davits, we are running free before this -freshening breeze. - -But the night is dark as we cautiously creep in under the vast shadows -of the Jura hills. Fortunately in here the wind is light; the _White -Dove_ seems to feel her way through the gloom. All eyes are on the -look-out; and there is a general shout as we nearly run on a buoy set to -mark a sunken ship. But we glide by in safety; and in due course of -time the roar of the anchor chain tells us that we are snug for the -night. - -"But where is Miss Mary?" says the Laird, in the cheerfully-lit saloon. -He looks around him in an uncomfortable and unsettled way. The saloon is -not the saloon when Mary Avon is out of it; here is her chair next to -his as usual, but it is vacant. How are we to spend the last happy hour -of chatting and joking without the pleased, bright face, and the timid, -gentle, shy, dark eyes? - -"Mary has gone to her cabin," says her hostess. "I suppose she has a -headache." - -She supposes the girl has a headache, and has not asked! And can it be -really Mary Avon that she is speaking of in that cold, hurt, offended -way? - - - - - *CHAPTER III.* - - *IN THE DARK.* - - -And then the next morning the Laird is infinitely distressed. - -"What! not better yet?" he says. "Dear me! I wish I could be a woman -for a while, to take some tea in to her, and read to her, and coax her -into better spirits. What a bad headache it must be!" - -But this generous sympathy on the part of one who is little more than an -acquaintance touches the heart of Mary Avon's particular friend. She -reproaches herself for her cruelty. She not only gets the tea and takes -it into the cabin, but she adopts a domineering tone, and declares that -until the young lady begins her breakfast she will not leave the place. -And then she looks at the timid, worn face; and her hand is placed -gently on the hand of her friend, and she says in a lower voice-- - -"Mary, don't think I am angry. I am only a little bit disappointed. -But I don't blame you--you could not help it. It is a pity; that is -all." - -The girl's face remains rather sad; but she is quite self-possessed. - -"You will let me go away," she says, looking down, "when we get to some -harbour?" - -"There is no need," says her friend, regarding her. "Angus will leave -us to-day, as soon as we get across to Cantyre." - -"Oh!" she said, quickly, and looking tip with a brief appeal in her -eyes. "I hope not! Why should he go away? I must go; I would rather -go." - -"Oh, no, Mary!" her friend said. "If there is any 'must' in the matter, -it is on his side; for you know his time is very valuable, and you must -have guessed why he has already far exceeded what he proposed to himself -as his holiday. No, no, Mary; let us forget what has happened as soon -as we can, and make the best of the rest of our sailing. The Laird -would have a fit if you seriously threatened to go. And I am sure you -are not to blame." - -So she kissed her on the cheek, by way of reconciliation, and left. And -she told the Laird that Mary had been dutiful, and had taken some -breakfast, and would be up on deck in course of time. - -Meanwhile, those who had gone on deck had found the _White Dove_ lying -in a dead calm, some three miles away from her anchorage of the previous -night; her sails hanging limp; a scorching sun on the white decks, and a -glare of light coming from the blue sky and the glassy blue sea. - -"Well, Angus," says his hostess, very merrily--for she does not wish to -let the others guess the reason of his sudden departure; "you see the -weather does not approve of your leaving us. What has become of your -thunderstorm? Where is the gale from the south, John?" - -"I was never seeing the like of this weather, mem," said the bearded -skipper. Then he added, anxiously, "And is Dr. Sutherland himself going -away from the yat?" - -"He would like to," she says; "but how is he ever to see land again if -you banish the wind so?" - -"But it will no be like this long!" says Captain John, eagerly--for he -appears to think that Dr. Sutherland has got tired of the fine weather. -"Oh, no, mem! I will answer for it. If Dr. Sutherland will wait -another day, or two days, I am sure there will be plenty of wind. And -we can lie in West Loch Tarbert for one day, or two days----" - -"And starve?" she says, abruptly. - -But now it appears that one or two of the men have heard of a mysterious -village lying somewhere inland from the mouth of the loch; and from a -comparison of these vague rumours we gather that we may not be so far -from - -civilisation after all. Perhaps we may once again behold loaf-bread. -Visions of cutlets, fowls, grouse, and hares arise. We shall once more -hear some echo of the distant world if perchance there be in the place a -worn and ancient newspaper. - -"Ay," said the Laird, hastily. "I would like to see a Glasgow -newspaper! I'm thinking they must have got the steam fire-engine by -now; and fine games the bairns will have when they begin to practise -with it, skelping about in the water. It would be a grand thing to try -it in the public garden when we get it; it would keep the shrubs and the -borders fine and wet--eh?" - -"And it would be quite as interesting as any plaster fountain," says his -hostess, encouragingly. - -"As handsome every bit," says the Laird, laughing heartily at his play -of imagination, "as any bit laddie done up in stucco, standing on one -leg, and holding up a pipe! It's a utilitarian age, ma'am--a -utilitarian age; we will have instead of a fountain a steam -fire-engine--very good! very good!--and they bodies who are always -crying out against expenditure on decoration will be disappointed for -once." - -The Laird had at last discovered the whereabouts of the mysterious -village on the Admiralty chart. - -"But what newspaper will we get in a place hidden away like that?--out -of the reach of all communication wi' the world. They'll be a century -behind, mark my words. It is when ye live within a reasonable distance -of a great centre of ceevilisation, like Glasgow, that ye feel the life -of it stirring your own place too; and ye must keep up with the times; -ye must be moving. Conservative as I am, there is no supersteetious -obstinacy about me; moving--moving--that's the word. The more important -the matter in the interest of the public, the more necessary is it that -we should have an impartial mind. If ye show me a new sort of asphalte, -do ye think I would not examine it, jist because I recommended Jamieson -and MacGregor's patent?" - -He appealed boldly to his hostess. - -"Oh, certainly; certainly you would!" she says, with an earnestness that -might have made Jamieson and MacGregor quail. - -"For three weeks," says the Laird, solemnly, "I was on that committee, -until it seemed that my breakfast, and my dinner, and my supper every -day was nothing but tar-smoke. What wi' the experiments without and -within, I was just filled with tar-smoke. And would ye believe it, -ma'am, one o' they Radical newspapers went as far as to say there were -secret influences at work when Jamieson and MacGregor was decided on. -My friends said, 'Prosecute the man for libel;' but I said, 'No; let the -poor crayture alone; he has got to earn his living!'" - -That was very wise of you, sir," says his hostess. - -"Bless me! If a man in public life were to heed everything that's said -about him," observes the Laird, with a fine air of unconcern, "what -would become of his time? No, no; that is not the principle on which a -public man should found his life. Do your best for your -fellow-creatures, and let the squabblers say what they like. As ah say, -the poor wretches have to earn their living." - -Here Mary Avon appeared, somewhat pale and tired-looking; and the Laird -instantly went to condole with her, and to get her a deck chair, and -what not. At the same moment, too, our young Doctor came along--perhaps -with a brave desire to put an end to her embarrassment at once--and -shook hands with her, and said "Good morning; I hope your headache is -better." Her hand was trembling as it fell away from his; and her " -Yes, thank you," was almost inaudible. Then she sate down, and the -Laird resumed his discourse. - -"I was once taken," said he, "by a fellow commissioner of mine to a sort -of singing place, or music hall, in Glasgow." - -"What?" - -"They wanted to have some such place in Strathgovan," continued the -Laird, paying no heed; "and I was asked to go and see what sort of -entertainment was provided in such places. It was a sorrowful sight, -ma'am--a sorrowful sight; the wretched craytures on the stage laughing -at their own songs, and the people not laughing at all, but given over -to tobacco smoking, and whisky, and talking amongst themselves. No -glint of humour--stupid, senseless stuff. But there was one young man -sung a song that had a better sound in it--I cannot remember the -words--but I sometimes think there was common sense in them: it was -about minding your own business, and doing your own work, and letting -fools say or think of ye what they please. Aye, I think there was -something in that young man; though I doubt, by the look of his eyes, -but he was a drinker." - -He turned to Mary Avon, who had been content to be a mute and unobserved -listener. - -"Well, Miss Mary," said he, brightly, "and the headache is going? And -are ye looking forward to getting letters and newspapers when we get -back to the world? There is a post-office at that village of Clachan, -John?" - -"Oh, aye, sir!" said John; "there will be a post-office." - -The Laird looked up at him reproachfully. - -"But why cannot ye learn the English pronunciation, man? What's the -necessity for ye to say _posht offus_? Cannot ye pronounce the plain -English--_post oafficc_?" - -"I am not very good at the English, sir," said Captain John, with a -grin. - -"Ye'll never learn younger." - -Then he went to Mary Avon, and suggested that a walk up and down the -deck might do her headache good; and when she rose he put her hand on -his arm. - -"Now," said he, as they started off, "I do not like headaches in young -people; they are not natural. And ye may think I am very inqueesitive; -but it is the privilege of old men to be talkative and inqueesitive--and -I am going to ask you a question." - -There was certainly no effort at keeping a secret on the part of the -Laird; every one might have heard these two talking as they quietly -walked up and down. - -"I am going to ask ye, plump and plain, if ye are not anxious about -going to London, and worrying yourself about the selling of your -pictures? There now; answer me that." - -"Not very much, sir," she says, in a low voice. - -"Listen to me," he said, speaking in a remarkably emphatic way. "If -that is on your mind, dismiss it. I tell you what: I will undertake, on -my own responsibeelity, that every painting in oil, and every sketch in -oil, and every water-colour drawing, and every sketch in water-colour -that ye have on board this yacht, will be sold within one fortnight of -your leaving the yacht. Do ye understand that?" - -"You are very kind, sir." - -"I am not bletherin'," said he; "no man ever knew me draw back from my -word. So put that anxiety away from your mind altogether, and let us -have no more troubles. I could sell--I could sell four times as many -for ye in a fortnight! Bless ye, lassie, ye do not know the people in -the West of Scotland yet--ye'll know them better by and by. If there's -one thino- thev understand better than another it is a good picture; and -they are ready to put their hand in their pocket. Oh! they Edinburgh -bodies are very fine creetics--they have what they believe to be an -elegant society in Edinburgh--and they talk a great deal about pictures; -but do they put their hand in their pocket? Ask Tom Galbraith. Ask him -where he sets three-fourths of his income. He lives in Edinburgh; but -he gets his income from the West of Scotland. Tom's a wise lad. He -knows how to feather his nest. And when he has become independent of -the picture-dealers, then he'll go to London, and fight the men there on -their own ground." - -"I should like to see some of Mr. Galbraith s work," she said, "before I -return to England." - -"You will have plenty of leisure to look at them by and by," replied the -Laird, quite simply. "I have some of Tom's very best things at -Denny-mains." - -It was not until the cool of the afternoon that a light breeze sprung up -to fill the sails of the _White Dove_, and press her gently on towards -the coast of Cantyre. By this time every one on board knew that Angus -Sutherland was leaving, and leaving for good. - -"I hope ye will come and see me at Denny-mains, Dr. Sutherland," said -the Laird, good-naturedly, "when ye happen to be in Scotland. I have a -neighbour there ye would be glad to meet--a man who could talk to ye on -your own subjects--Mr. Stoney." - -Our Doctor paid but little heed. He was silent, and distraught. His -eyes had an absent and heavy look in them. - -"A most distinguished man," the Laird continued. "I am told his -reputation in England is just as great as it is in this country. A very -distinguished man indeed. He read a paper before the British Association -not many years ago." - -"About what, do you remember?" said the other, at last. - -"H'm!" said the Laird, apparently puzzling his memory. "Ye see, a man -in my poseetion has so much to do with the practical business of life, -that perhaps he does not pay just attention to the speculations of -others. But Mr. Stoney is a remarkable man; I am astonished ye should -have forgotten what the paper was about. A most able man, and a fine, -logical mind; it is just beautiful to hear him point out the close -fitness between the charges in the major proposeetion in the Semple -case, and the averments and extracts in the minor. Ye would be greatly -delighted and instructed by him, Doctor. And there's another thing." - -Here the Laird looked slyly at Mary Avon. - -"There's a young leddy here who has a secret of mine; and I'm thinking -she has not said much about it. But I will make a public confession -now: it has been on my mind for some time back that I might buy a screw -yacht." - -The Laird looked triumphantly around; he had forgotten that it was a -very open secret. - -"And wouldn't it be a strange thing if this very party, just as we are -sitting now, were to be up at this very spot next year, on board that -yacht?--wouldn't that be a strange thing?" - -"It would be a jolly pleasant thing," said the Youth. - -"You are very kind to include me in the invitation," said Angus -Sutherland; "but I doubt whether I shall ever be in Scotland again. My -father is a very old man now; that is the only thing that would call me -north. But I think I could q-et on better with my own work by going -abroad for some years to Naples, probably. I have to go to Italy before -long, any way." - -He spoke in a matter-of-fact way; we did not doubt that he might pursue -his researches better in Naples. - -It was in the dusk of the evening that we slowly sailed into West Loch -Tarbert--past a series of rocks and islands on which, as we were given -to understand, seals were more abundant than limpets. But whereas the -last haunt of the seals we had visited had introduced us to a solitary -and desolate loch, with sterile shores and lonely ruins, this loch, so -far as we could see, was a cheerful and in- habited place, with one or -two houses shining palely white amid the dark woods. And when v/e had -come to anchor, and sent ashore, although there were no provisions to be -got, the men returned with all the necessary information for Angus -Sutherland. By getting up very early next morning, and walking a -certain distance, he would catch a certain coach, which would take him -on to Tarbert on Loch Fyne in time to catch the steamer. And so that -nicrht, before we turned in to our respective cabins, the Doctor bade us -all formally good-bye; and Mary Avon among the rest. No one could have -noticed the least difference in his manner. - -But in the middle of the night, in the ladies' cabin, a sound of stifled -sobbing. And the other woman goes over to the berth of her companion, -and bends her head down, and whispers-- - -"Mary, why are you crying? Tell me!" - -She cannot speak for a time; her whole frame is shaken with the -bitter-sobs. And then she says, in a low, trembling, broken voice-- - -"He has not forgiven me. I saw it in his face." - - - - - *CHAPTER IV.* - - *TO ABSENT FRIENDS!* - - -Next morning, however, every one perceived an extraordinary change in -the appearance and manner of the girl. Mary Avon had come back to us -again, with all the light and life of her face, and the contented -gentleness of the soft black eyes. What had wrought the transformation? -Certain confidential assurances in the silence of the night that Angus -Sutherland, so far from not forgiving her, had insisted that she was not -to blame at all. Or the natural reaction after a long strain of -anxiety? Or merely the welcome fresh breeze of the morning, with the -cheerful, wooded shores, and the white houses shining in the sunlight? -Any how there was quite a new expression in her face; and we heard the -low, sweet laugh again. It is true that, once or twice, as she walked -up and down the deck with the Laird, her eyes grew pensive as she looked -away along the hills on the southern shores of the loch. That was the -direction in which Angus had left in the morning. And these hills were -somewhat overcast; it seemed to be raining inland. - -Moreover, there was something else to make our breakfast party a glad -one. The two men who had rowed our young Doctor across the loch at -break of day had had the curiosity to pierce inland as far as the -village of Clachan; and the scouts had brought back the most glowing -accounts of the Promised Land which they had discovered. They had -penetrated a fertile and deeply-wooded valley; and they had at length -come upon a centre of the highest civilisation. There was a -post-office. There was a telegraph-office. There was a church, the -clock of which struck the hours. - -"Just fancy that!" exclaimed our hostess. "A clock that strikes the -hours!--and a telegraph-office! We might send a telegram to ask whether -the country has been invaded anywhere, or whether the Prime Minister has -committed suicide." - -"I would like to hear about the steam fire-engine," said the Laird -almost to himself. - -"However, breeze or no breeze, seals or no seals," she says, with -decision, "we must stay over a day here, to have the yacht thoroughly -provisioned. We cannot go on skating on the edge of tinned meats. We -must have a plentiful supply of fresh vegetables, and fresh milk, and -eggs and butter; and then two or three joints are always so -serviceable--cold, I mean, for luncheon; and if Fred cannot get any -game, at least he must get us some fowls. What do you say, Mary? Shall -we walk over to this place, and clear the way for Fred?" - -"Oh, no!" says the other, lightly; "you and I are going with the seal -shooters. They never get near anything; so we cannot be in the way. I -assure you, sir, we shall be as quiet as mice," she adds, addressing the -Laird. - -"Ye will come with us, and ye will speak just as much as ye please," -said the Laird, dogmatically. "What signifies a seal? The crayture is -good for nothing! And the idea of you two going away by yourselves into -the country! No--no; come away and get ready, Howard. If ye cannot -shoot a seal with the two leddies in the boat, ye will never do it -without. And the sea breezes, Miss Mary," he added, with an approving -air, "are better for ye than the land breezes. Oh, aye; ye are looking -just fine this morning." - -A short time thereafter he was on deck, looking around him at the -pleasant trees and the blue waters, when Miss Avon joined him, fully -equipped for the expedition; and just at this moment they began to hear -a sound of music in the stillness of the morning air. And then they -perceived a rude old rowing-boat, pulled by a small boy of twelve or so, -coming nearer and nearer; while another small boy of about the same age -was peacefully reclining in the stern, his head thrown back so that it -met the full glare of the morning sun, while he played vigorously but -rather inaccurately "The Campbells are coming" on a tin whistle. - -"Look at that!" said the Laird with delight; "is not that perfect -happiness? Look at his pride and laziness--having another boy to pull -him about, while he shows off on the penny whistle. Dear me, I wish I -was that young rascal!" - -"He seems happy enough," she said, with a sigh. - -"That is because he does not know it," remarked the Laird, profoundly. -"If you proved to him that he was happy, it would immediately vanish." - -"You cannot be consciously happy; but you may be consciously -unhappy--that is rather hard," said she, absently. - -However, these two philosophers were withdrawn from this occult point by -a summons from the Youth, who had already got the rifles and cartridges -into the bow of the gig. And, indeed, as we rowed away from the yacht, -in the direction of the rocks at the mouth of the loch, Miss Avon seemed -determined to prove that, consciously or unconsciously, she was happy -enough. She would not even allow that Angus Sutherland could have felt -any pang of regret at leaving the _White Dove_ and his friends. - -"Poor chap!" said the Laird, with some compassion, as he turned his head -and looked away towards those gloomy hills; "it must have been a -lonesome journey for him this morning. And he so fond of sailing too; -I'm thinking when he saw what a nice breeze there was, he was rather -sorry to go away. I should not wonder if it was wi' a heavy heart that -he went on board the steamer." - -"Oh, no, sir! why should you think that?" said Mary Avon, quickly and -anxiously. "If Dr. Sutherland had nothing to consider but yachting, he -might have been sorry to go away. But think what lies before him; think -what calls him! Look at the position he has won for himself already, -and what is expected of him! and you would have him throw away his -splendid opportunities in yachting? There is not a University in Europe -where he is not known; there is not a man of science in Europe who does -not expect great things of him; and--and--how proud his father must be -of him!" - -She spoke eagerly and almost breathlessly; there was a pink flush in her -cheek, but it was not from shamefacedness. She seemed desperately -anxious to convince the Laird that our Doctor ought to have left the -yacht, and must have left the yacht, and could not do anything else but -leave the yacht. Meanwhile, her friend and hostess regarded her -curiously. - -"A man with such capacities as he has," continued the girl, warmly, -"with such a great future before him, owes it to himself that he should -not give way to mere sentiment. The world could not get on at all if -people--I mean if the great people, from whom we expect much--were -always to be consulting their feelings. Perhaps he was sorry to leave -the yacht. He does like sailing; and--and I think he liked to be among -friends. But what is that when he knows there is work in the world for -him to do? If he was sorry at leaving the yacht, you may depend on it -that that had passed away before he stepped on board the steamer. For -what was that trifling sentiment compared with the consciousness that he -had acted rightly?" - -Something about the precision of these phrases--for the girl but rarely -gave way to such a fit of earnest talking--seemed to suggest to the -silent person who was watching her, that this was not the first time the -girl had thought of these things. - -"Idle people," said this youthful controversialist, "can afford to -indulge in sentiment; but not those who have to do great things in the -world. And it is not as if--Dr. Sutherland"--she always faltered the -least bit just before pronouncing the name--"were only working for his -own fame or his own wealth. It is for the good of mankind that he is -working; and if he has to make this or that sacrifice, he knows that he -is doing right. What other reward does a man need to have?" - -"I am thinking of the poor old man in Banffshire," said her friend to -her, thoughtfully. "If Angus goes away to Italy for some years, they may -not see each other again." - -At this the girl turned strangely pale, and remained silent; but she was -unnoticed, for at this moment all attention was attracted towards the -seals. - -There they were, no doubt, and in large numbers. We could see the -occasionally moving forms, scarcely distinguishable from the brown -sea-weed, on the long projecting points of the low rocks; while here and -there one of the animals could be made out, poising himself in a -semi-circle--head and tail in the air--like a letter O with the upper -four-fifths cut off. But the problem was, how to get anywhere within -shot. The rocks, or small islands, had no doubt certain eminences in -the middle; but they were low and shallow all round. Obviously it was -no use bearing straight down on them from our present position; so it -was resolved to give them a wide berth, to pull away from the islands -altogether, and then approach them from the south, if haply there might -in this wise be some possibility of shelter. It was observed that Queen -Titania, during these whispered and eager consultations, smiled gravely -and was silent. She had been in the Highlands before. - -Seals are foolish animals. We were half a mile away from them; and we -were going still farther away. The rocking of the water made it -impossible for us to try a haphazard shot even if we had had a rifle -that would have carried anything like 800 yards with precision. There -was not the least reason for their being alarmed. But all the same, as -we silently and slowly paddled away from them--actually away from -them--the huge bodies one by one flopped and waddled and dropped into -the water with a splash. In about a minute or so there was not a seal -visible through our best binoculars. And Queen Titania calmly smiled. - -But, as everybody knows, there are two sides to an island, as to -everything else. So we boldly bore down on the shores nearest us, and -resolved, on getting close, on a cautious and silent landing. After -many a trial we found a creek where the stern of the gig could be backed -into fairly deep water, along a ledge of rock, and then two of us got -out. The ladies produced their knitting materials. - -With much painful stooping and crawling, we at length reached the middle -ridge, and there laid down our rifles to have a preliminary peep round. -That stealthy glance revealed the fact that, on the other side also, the -seals had been alarmed and had left the rocks; but still they were not -far away. We could see here and there a black and glistening head -moving among the lapping waters. Of course it would have been madness -to have risked our all on a random shot at sea. Hit or miss, the -chances were about equal we should not get the seal; so we quietly -retired again behind the ridge, and sate down. We could see the gig and -its occupants. It seemed to one of us at least that Queen Titania was -still amused. - -A dead silence: while we idly regard the washed-up stores of sea-shells -around us, and patiently await the return of the seals to the rocks. -Then a sudden noise that makes one's heart jump: a couple of terns have -discovered us, and the irate birds go wheeling and shrieking overhead -with screams that would have aroused the Sleeping Beauty and all her -household. In their fright and wrath they come nearer and nearer; at -times they remain motionless overhead; but ever continues the shrill and -piercing shriek. The face of the Youth is awful to see. Again and -again he puts up his rifle; and there is no doubt that, if he were to -fire, he might accomplish that feat which is more frequently heard of in -novels than elsewhere--shooting a bird on the wing with a rifle. But -then he is loth to throw away his last chance. With a gesture of -despair, he lowers his weapon, and glances towards the gig. Queen -Titania has caught his eye, and he hers. She is laughing. - -At length we venture to hazard everything. Furtively each rifle is -protruded over the ledge of rock; and furtively each head creeps up by -the stock, the hand on the trigger-guard. The caution is unnecessary. -There is not a sign of any living thing all around the shores. Even the -two sea-swallows, alarmed by our moving, have wheeled away into the -distance; we are left in undisturbed possession of the island. Then the -Youth clambers up to the top of the rocks and looks around. A skart, -perched on a far ledge, immediately takes flight--striking the water -with his heavy wings before he can get well on his way: thereafter a -dead silence. - -"It was the tern that did that," says the Youth, moodily, as we return -to the gig. "The seals must have known well enough." - -"They generally do contrive to know somehow," is the answer of one who -is not much disappointed, and who is still less surprised. - -But this wicked woman all a-laughing, when we return to the gig! - -"Come, children," says she, "we shall barely be back in time for lunch; -and we shall be all the longer that Angus is not here to sing his '_Ho, -ro, clansmen!_' But the quicker the sooner, as the Highlandman said. -Jump in!" - -"It was all owing to those sea-swallows," remarks the Youth, gloomily. - -"Never mind," says she, with great equanimity. "Mary and I knew you -would not shoot anything, or we should not have come. Let us hasten back -to see what Fred has shot for us, with his silver sixpences." - -And so we tumble into the gig; and push away, and have a long swinging -pull back to the _White Dove_. - -There is still some measure of justice meted out upon the earth. The -face of this fiend who has been laughing at us all the morning becomes a -trifle more anxious when she draws near the yacht. For there is Master -Fred idling up at the bow, instead of being below looking after the vast -stores he has got on board; and moreover as we draw near, and as he -comes along to the gangway, any one can perceive that our good Frederick -d'or is not in a facetious frame of mind. - -"Well, Fred, have you got a good supply at last?" she cries, taking hold -of the rope, and putting her foot on the step. - -Fred mumbles something in reply. - -"What have you got?" she says, when she is on deck. "Any game?" - -"No, mem." - -"Oh, never mind; the fowls will do very well." - -Fred is rather silent, until he explains that he could not get any -fowls. - -"No fowls? What butcher's meat, then?" says she, somewhat indignantly. - -"None? Nothing?" says she; and a low titter begins to prevail among the -assembled crowd. "Have you not got a joint of any sort?" - -Fred is almost unwilling to confess--he is ashamed, angry, disconcerted. -At last he blurts out-- - -"I could get nothing at all, mem, but fower loaves." - -At this there was a roar of laughter. What had become of all her fresh -milk, and butter, and eggs; her mutton, and fowls, and cutlets; her -grouse, and snipe, and hares? We did not care for our privation; we -only rejoiced in her discomfiture. - -"That is just like a Scotch village," says she, savagely; "spending all -its money on a church bell, and not able to keep a decent shop open! Do -you mean to say you could not get a carrot, or a cabbage, or a -pennyworth of milk?" - -"No, mem." - -"John," she says, in a domineering way, "why _don't_ you get the sails -up? What is the use of staying in a place like this?" - -John comes forward timidly, and stroking his great beard: he half -believes in these furious rages of hers. - -"Oh, yes, mem, if ye please, mem, I will get the sail set--but--but the -tide will be turning soon, mem, and the wind, she will be against us as -soon as we get out of the loch; and it will be a long, long time before -we get to Crinan. I not well aquent with this place, mem: if we were up -in our own part of the Highlands, do you think the people would let the -_White Dove_ be so long without the fresh cabbage and the milk? No; I -not think that, mem." - -"But we are not in our own part of the Highlands," says she, -querulously; "and do you think we are going to starve? However, I -suppose Fred can give us a biscuit. Let us go below." - -Our lunch was, in truth, simple enough; but perhaps it was this indirect -appeal to Fred that determined that worthy to surprise us at dinner that -evening. First of all, after we had returned from another ineffectual -seal-hunt, we found he had decorated the dinner-table in an elaborate -manner. There was a clean cloth, shining with the starch in it. There -was a great dish of scarlet rowans in the middle of the table; and the -rowans had a border of white heather--fathered at Loch-na-Chill: the -rowans were for lovely colour, the heather was for luck. Then, not -content with that, he had put all our available silver on the table, -including the candlesticks and the snuffer-tray, though the sun had not -yet sunk behind the Jura hills. But the banquet defies description. The -vast basin of steaming kidney soup, the boiled lithe, the fried -mackerel, the round of tongue, the corned beef, the tomatoes, the -pickles, the sardines, the convolutions of pudding and apricot jam: what -Fishmonger or Drysalter or Gunmaker could have wanted more? Nor was -there any Apemantus at the feast; there was the smiling and benign -countenance of the Laird, who again and again made facetious remarks -about the kirk bell of Clachan. Then he said more formally-- - -"Ladies and gentlemen, I am going to ask ye to drink a toast." - -"Oh, uncle!" said the Youth deprecatingly; "we are not at a -commissioners' meeting at Strathgovan." - -"And I will thank ye to fill your glasses," said the Laird, taking no -heed of Young England and his modern want of manners. "I have to ask -ye, ladies and gentlemen, to drink the health of one who is an old and -valued friend of some of us, who is admired and respected by us all. It -would ill become us, now that he has been separated from us but by a -day, that we should forget him in his absence. We have come in close -contact with him; we have seen his fine qualities of temper and -character; and I am sure no one present will contradict me when I say -that, great as are his abeelities, they are not more remarkable than his -modesty, and his good humour, and his simple, plain, frank ways. With a -man of less solid judgment, I might be afraid of certain dangerous -tendencies of these times; but our friend has a Scotch head on his -shoulders; he may be dazzled by their newfangled speculations, but not -convinced--not convinced. It is a rare thing--I will say it, though I -am but a recent acquaintance, and do not know him as well as some now at -this hospitable board--to find such powers of intellect united with such -a quiet and unassuming manliness. Ladies and gentlemen, I give ye the -health of Dr. Angus Sutherland. We regret that he has gone from us; but -we know that duty calls, and we honour the man who stands to his guns. -It may be that we may see him in these waters once more; it may be that -we may not; but whatever may be in store for him or for us, we know he -will be worthy of the hopes we build on him, and we drink his health now -in his absence, and wish him God-speed!" - -"Hear! hear!" cried the Youth, who was greatly amused by this burst of -old-fashioned eloquence. But Mary Avon sate white and trembling, and -quite forgot to put the glass to her lips. It was her hostess who spoke -next, with a laugh. - -"I think, sir," said she, "I might give you a hint. If you were to go -up on deck and ask the men whether they would like to drink Angus's -health, I don't think they would refuse." - -"It is a most capital suggestion," said the Laird, rising to take down -his wideawake. - - - - - *CHAPTER V.* - - *SUSPICIONS.* - - -It was handsomely done on the part of the Laird to pay that tribute to -his vanquished and departed enemy. But next morning, as we were getting -under weigh, he got a chance of speaking to his hostess alone; and he -could not quite forego a little bit of boasting over his superior -astuteness and prescience. - -"What did I say, ma'am," he asked, with a confident chuckle, "when ye -made a communication to me on the subject of our friend who has just -left us? Did I not offer to make ye a wager, though I am but little of -a gambler? A gold ring, a sixpence, and a silver thimble: did I not -offer to wager ye these three articles that your guesses were not quite -correct? And what has become of Dr. Sutherland now?" - -His hostess is not in this gay humour. She answers with a touch of -reserve-- - -"If I made any mistake, it was about Mary. And I had no right to suspect -anything, for she never took me into her confidence; and I do not -approve of elderly people prying into the affairs of young people." - -"Pry?" says the Laird, loftily and graciously. "No, no; no prying. But -judgment?--is there any harm in one keeping one's eyes open? And did -not I tell ye, ma'am, to be of good heart--that everything would go -properly and smoothly?" - -"And has it?" she says, sharply, and looking up with a glance of -indignation. - -The Laird, however, is so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he does -not notice this protest. - -"She is a fine lass, that," he says, with decision. "Did ye ever hear a -young girl speak such clear common sense as she spoke yesterday, about -that very Doctor? There is no affected sentiment--there is nothing of -your Clarinda and Philander noavel-writing--about that lass: did ye ever -hear such good, sound, clear common sense?" - -"I heard her," says his hostess, shortly. - -By this time we had weighed anchor, and the _White Dove_ was slowly -sailing down the loch, before a light northerly breeze. Then Mary Avon -came on deck, followed by the attentive Youth. And while everybody on -board was eagerly noticing things ahead--the seals on the rocks at the -mouth of the loch, the windy grey sea beyond, and the blue mountains of -Jura--Mary Avon alone looked backward, to the low lines of hills we were -leaving. She sate silent and apart. - -The Laird stepped over to her. - -"We have just been talking about the Doctor," says he, cheerfully. "And -we were saying there was plenty of good common sense in what ye said -yesterday about his duties and his prospects. Oh, ay! But then ye ken, -Miss Mary, even the busiest and the wisest of men must have their -holiday at times; and I have just been thinking that, if we can get Dr. -Sutherland to come with us next year, we will, maybe, surprise him by -what ye can do wi' a steam yacht. Why, during the time we have been -lying here, we might have run across to Ireland and back in a steam -yacht! It is true there would be less enjoyment for him in the sailing; -but still there are compensations." - -His hostess has overheard all this. She says, in her gentle way, but -with a cold and cruel clearness-- - -"You know, sir, that is quite impossible. Angus will not be in Scotland -for many a day to come." - -The girl's face is hidden; apparently she is still gazing back on those -slowly receding hills. - -"Toots! toots!" says the Laird, briskly. "The lad is not a fool. He -will make an occasion if he considers it desirable: there is no -compulsion that he must remain in Eetaly. I think I would even lay a -wager that we will have just the same party, and the Doctor included, on -that steam yacht next year, and in this very place: is it a wager, -ma'am?" - -"I am afraid you must leave us out," she remarks, "at all events. And -as for Angus Sutherland, I shall be surprised if ever he sees West Loch -Tarbert again." - -Why had not Mary Avon spoken? The Laird went a step nearer her, and put -his hand gently on her shoulder. - -"Well, Miss Mary," said he; "what are we to do to show these people -their lolly and wickedness--eh? I think I will leave it to you." - -"Oh, no, sir!" This, or something like this, she was understood to say, -in a low voice; but at the same moment she rose quickly, crossed the -deck, put a trembling hand on the companion way, and went below. Just as -she disappeared, she could not quite conceal her face; and there was a -look on it that startled the Laird. Had the girl been stealthily crying -all the time she had been looking back at those distant hills? - -The Laird was greatly disturbed. He said nothing, for he would not have -it understood that anything had happened; but any one could see by his -preoccupied manner that he was seriously troubled. He had directed a -quick, sharp glance of surprise and inquiry at his hostess; but just -then she was stepping aside to get out of the way of Captain John. The -Laird sate down by himself, and remained in a profound silence. He -seemed to pay no attention to what was going on. - -But there was brisk work enough all over the yacht. For now we had got -clear of the long promontory and its islands; and out here in the open -there was a pretty heavy sea running, while the wind began to freshen up -a bit. There was a squally look about the sea and sky; it was -considered prudent to lower the topsail. Now and again there was a -heavy shock at the bows, and then a dipping of heads to dodge the flying -shreds of spray. In the midst of all this Miss Avon appeared again. - -"I thought we should catch it," said she, in the blithest of tones; and -she addressed herself particularly to the Laird. "And it is better to -be prepared. But, oh dear me! what a nuisance a waterproof is!" - -And indeed the wind was blowing that hooded and caped garment all about -her head, so that her dark hair was becoming considerably dishevelled. -The Youth came to her assistance; put a cushion and a shawl for her just -beside her hostess, under the lee of the weather bulwarks; then she -snugly ensconced herself there, and seemed to be very merry and happy -indeed. - -"Don't you often wish you were a fish, when the weather is wet?" she -says, gaily, to her friend; "so that you might be perfectly -indifferent?" And here she cries "Oh!" again, because a drop or two of -spray has come flying past the keel of the gig and just caught her on -the crown of her waterproof. - -Nothing can exceed her talk, her laughter, her cheerfulness. She -nestles close to her friend; she is like a spoiled child; she makes fun -of the Youth's attempts to steer. And the Laird is regarding her with a -grave wonder--perhaps with some dark suspicion--when she lightly -addresses herself to him again: - -"But what about that strong man, sir? You were going to tell us the -story yesterday, when you were interrupted." - -It was a cunning device. How could a professed story-teller refuse to -rise to the bait? The watchfulness disappeared from the face of the -Laird: in its place a sort of anticipatory laughter began to shine. - -"But it was Tom Galbraith heard of that man," said he, in a deprecating -way. "Did I not tell ye? Oh, ay! it was Tom Galbraith heard of him -when he was in Rossshire; and it was he told me of the wonderful things -that man could do, according to the natives. Did not I tell ye of his -rolling an enormous stone up a hill, and of the stone being split into -nine pieces; yet not any one man could roll up one of the nine pieces? -But I was going to tell ye of his being in Prince's Street, Edinburgh; -and a coach and four was coming whirling along; the horses had run away, -and no one could stop them. M'Kinlay was walking along the street, when -the people called to him to look out, for the four horses were running -mad; but the Rossshire Samson was not afraid. No, no----" - -Here a wisp of spray somewhat disconcerted the Laird; but only for a -moment. He wiped the salt water from the side of his neck, and -continued, with suppressed laughter bubbling up in his eyes. - -"The man that told Tom Galbraith," said he, "was a solemn believer, and -spoke with reverence. 'M'Kinlay,' says he, 'he will turn to the street, -and he will grab at the four horses and the coach, and he will took them -up in his two hands--_shist like a mice_.'" - -"_Shist like a mice._" The Laird preserved a stern silence. The humour -of this story was so desperately occult that he would leave the coarse -applause to us. Only there was an odd light in his eyes; and we knew -that it was all he could do to prevent his bursting out into a roar of -laughter. But Mary Avon laughed--until John of Skye, who had not heard -a word, grinned out of pure sympathy. - -"He must have been the man," said Miss Avon, diffidently--for she did -not like to encroach on the Laird's province--"whom Captain John told me -about, who could drink whisky so strong that a drop of it would burn a -white mark on a tarred rope." - -But the Laird was not jealous. - -"Very good--very good!" he cried, with extreme delight. "Excellent--a -real good one! 'Deed I'll tell that to Tom Galbraith!" - -And the high spirits and the facetiousness of these two children -continued through lunch. That was rather a wild meal, considering that -we were still sawing across the boisterous Sound of Jura, in the teeth -of a fresh northerly breeze. However, nothing could exceed the devotion -of the Youth, who got scarcely any luncheon at all in his efforts to -control the antics of pickle jars and to bolster up bottles. Then when -everything was secure, there would be an ominous call overhead, "_Stand -by forrard, boys!_" followed by a period of frantic revolution and -panic. - -"Yes," continued the Laird, when we got on deck again; "a sense of -humour is a great power in human affairs. A man in public life without -it is like a ship without a helm: he is sure to go and do something -redeeclous that a smaller man would have avoided altogether. Ay, my -father's sense of humour was often said by people to be quite -extraordinar'--quite extraordinar'. I make no pretensions that way -myself." - -Here the Laird waved his hand, as if to deprecate any courteous protest. - -"No, no; I have no pretensions that way; but sometimes a bit joke comes -in verra well when ye are dealing with solemn and pretentious asses. -There is one man in Strathgovan----" - -But here the Laird's contempt of this dull person could not find vent in -words. He put up both hands, palm outwards, and shook them, and -shrugged his shoulders. - -"A most desperately stupid ass, and as loquacious as a parrot. I mind -fine when I was giving my earnest attention to the subject of our police -system. I may tell ye, ma'am, that our burgh stretches over about a -mile each way, and that it has a population of over 8,000 souls, with a -vast quantity of valuable property. And up till that time we had but -two policemen on duty at the same time during the night. It was my -opeenion that that number was quite inahdequate; and I stated my -opeenion at a meeting of the commissioners convened for that purpose. -Well, would ye believe it, this meddlesome body, Johnny Guthrie, got up -on his legs and preached and preached away; and all that he had to tell -us was that we could not add to the number of police without the consent -of the Commissioners of Supply and the Home Secretary. Bless me! what -bairn is there but knows that? I'll be bound Miss Mary there, though -she comes from England, would know as much about public affairs as -that?" - -"I--I am afraid not, sir," said she. - -"No matter--no matter. Live and learn. When ye come to Strathgovan, -we'll begin and teach ye. However, as I was saying, this bletherin' -poor crayture went on and on, and it was all about the one point, until -I got up and, 'Mr. Provost,' says I, 'there are some human beings it -would be idle to answer. Their loquacity is a sort of function; they -perspire through their tongue--like a doag.' Ye should have seen Johnny -Guthrie's face after that!" - -And here the Laird laughed and laughed again at Johnny Guthrie's -discomfiture. - -"But he is a poor bletherin' crayture," he continued, with a kind of -compassion. "Providence made him what he is: but sometimes I think -Johnny tries to make himself even more rideeklous than Providence could -fairly and honestly have intended. He attacked me most bitterly because -I got a committee appointed to represent to the Postmaster that we -should have a later delivery at night. He attacked me most bitterly; -and yet I think it was one of the greatest reforms ever introduced into -our Burgh." - -"Oh, indeed, sir?" says his hostess, with earnest attention. - -"Yes, indeed. The Postmaster is a most civil, worthy, and respectable -man, though it was a sore blow to him when his daughter took to going to -the Episcopal Church in Glasgow. However, with his assistance we now get -the letters that used to be delivered in the forenoon delivered late the -night before; and we have a mail made up at 10 P.M., which is a great -convenience. And that man Johnny Guthrie gabbling away as if the French -Revolution were coming back on us! I am a Conservative myself, as ye -know, ma'am; but I say that we must march with the times. No standing -still in these days. However, ye will get Johnny Guthries everywhere; -poor bletherin' craytures who have no capacity for taking a large view -of public affairs--bats and blindworms as it were: I suppose there is a -use for them, as it has pleased Providence to create them; but it would -puzzle an ordinary person to find it out." - -With much of the like wise discourse did the Laird beguile our northward -voyage; and apparently he had forgotten that little incident about Mary -Avon in the morning. The girl was as much interested as any one; -laughed at the "good ones;" was ready to pour her contempt on the Johnny -Guthries who opposed the projects of the Laird's statesmanship. And in -this manner we fought our way against the stiff northerly breeze, until -evening found us off the mouth of Loch Crinan. Here we proposed to run -in for the night, so that we should have daylight and a favourable tide -to enable us to pass through the Dorus Mor. - -It was a beautiful, quiet evening in this sheltered bay; and after -dinner we were all on deck, reading, smoking, and what not. The Laird -and Mary Avon were playing chess together. The glow of the sunset was -still in the western sky, and reflected on the smooth water around us; -though Jura and Scarba were of a dark, soft, luminous rose-purple. - -Chess is a silent game; the Laird was not surprised that his companion -did not speak to him. And so absorbed was he with his knights and -bishops that he did not notice that, in the absolute silence of this -still evening, one of the men forward was idly whistling to himself the -sad air of Lochaber. - -_Lochaber no more! And Lochaber no more!_ -_We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more!_ - -It was the old and familiar refrain: Hector of Moidart was probably not -thinking of Lochaber at all. - -But suddenly the Laird, staring down at the board, perceived some little -tiny thing drop on the farther edge from him; and he quickly looked up. -The girl was crying. Instantly he put out his great hand and took hers, -and said, in a low voice, full of gentleness and a tender sympathy-- - -"Dear me, lassie, what is the matter?" - -But Mary Avon hastily pulled out her handkerchief, and passed it across -her eyes, and said hurriedly-- - -"Oh, I beg your pardon! it is nothing: I--I was thinking of something -else. And is it your move or mine, sir?----" - -The Laird looked at her; but her eyes were cast down. He did not pay so -much attention to the game after that. - - - - - *CHAPTER VI.* - - *CERTAINTY.* - - -Next morning there is a lively commotion on board. The squally, -blustering-looking skies, the glimpses of the white horses out there on -the driven green sea, and the fresh northerly breeze that comes in gusts -and swirls about the rigging--all tell us that we shall have some hard -work before we pierce the Dorus Mor. - -"You won't want for wind to-day, Captain John," says the Youth, who is -waiting to give the men a hand at the windlass. - -"'Deed, no," says John of Skye, with a grim smile. "This is the kind of -day that Dr. Sutherland would like, and the _White Dove_ through the -Dorus Mor too!" - -However, the Laird seems to take no interest in what is going forward. -All the morning he has been silent and preoccupied; occasionally -approaching his hostess, but never getting an opportunity of speaking -with her alone. At last, when he observes that every one is on deck, -and eagerly watching the _White Dove_ getting under weigh, he covertly -and quietly touches our Admiral on the arm. - -"I would speak to ye below for a moment, ma'am," he says, in a whisper. - -And so, unnoticed amid all this bustle, she follows him down into the -saloon, wondering not a little. And as soon as he has shut the door, he -plunges _in medias res_. - -"I beg your pardon, ma'am; but I must speak to ye. It is about your -friend, Miss Mary: have ye not observed that she is sorely troubled -about something--though she puts a brave face on it and will not -acknowledge it? Have ye not seen it--have ye not guessed that she is -grievously troubled about some matter or other?" - -"I have guessed it," said the other. - -"Poor lass! poor lass!" said the Laird; and then he added, thoughtfully, -"It is no small matter that can affect so light-hearted a creature: that -is what I want to ask ye. Do ye know? Have ye guessed? Surely it is -something that some of us can help her wi'. Indeed, it just distresses -me beyond measure to see that trouble in her face; and when I see her -try to conceal it--and to make believe that everything is well with -her--I feel as if there was nothing I would not do for the poor lass." - -"But I don't think either you or I can help. Young people must manage -their affairs for themselves," says his hostess, somewhat coldly. - -"But what is it?--what is it? What is troubling her?" - -Queen Titania regards him for a moment, apparently uncertain as to how -far she should go. At last she says-- - -"Well; I am not revealing any confidence of Mary's; for she has told me -nothing about it. But I may as well say at once that when we were in -West Loch Tarbert, Dr. Sutherland asked her to be his wife; and she -refused him. And now I suppose she is breaking her heart about it." - -"Dear me! dear me!" says the Laird, with eyes opened wide. - -"It is always the way with girls," says the other, with a cruel -cynicism. "Whether they say 'Yes' or 'No' they are sure to cry over it. -And naturally; for whether they say 'Yes' or 'No,' they are sure to have -made an irretrievable blunder." - -The Laird is slowly recovering from his first shock of surprise. - -"But if she did refuse him, surely that is what any one would have -expected? There is nothing singular in that." - -"Pardon me; I think there is something very singular," she says, warmly. -"I don't see how any one could have been with these two up in the north, -and not perceived that there was an understanding between them. If any -girl ever encouraged a man, she did. Why, sir, when you proposed that -your nephew should come with us, and make love to Mary, I said 'Yes' -because I thought it would be merely a joke! I thought he would please -you by consenting, and not harm anybody else. But now it has turned out -quite different; and Angus Sutherland has gone away." - -And at this there was a return of the proud and hurt look into her eyes: -Angus was her friend; she had not expected this idle boy would have -supplanted him. - -The Laird was greatly disturbed. The beautiful picture that he had been -painting for himself during this summer idleness of ours--filling in the -details with a lingering and loving care--seemed to fade away into -impalpable mist; and he was confronted by blank chaos. And this, too, -just at the moment when the departure of the Doctor appeared to render -all his plans doubly secure.--He rose. - -"I will think over it, ma'am," he said, slowly. "I am obliged to ye for -your information: perhaps I was not as observant as I should have been." - -Then she sought to stay him for a moment. - -"Don't you think, sir," said she, timidly, "it would be better for -neither you nor me to interfere?" - -The Laird turned. - -"I made a promise to the lass," said he, quite simply, "one night we -were in Loch Leven, and she and I were walking on the deck, that when -she was in trouble I would try to help her; and I will not break my -promise through any fear of being called an intermeddler. I will go to -the girl myself--when I have the opportunity; and if she prefers to keep -her own counsel--if she thinks I am only an old Scotch fool who should -be minding my own business--I will not grumble." - -And again he was going away, when again she detained him. - -"I hope you do not think I spoke harshly of Mary," said she, -penitentially. "I own that I was a little disappointed. And it seemed -so certain. But I am sure she has sufficient reason for whatever she -has done--and that she believes she is acting rightly----" - -"Of that there is no doubt," said he, promptly. "The girl has just a -wonderful clear notion of doing what she ought to do; and nothing would -make her flinch." Then he added, after a second, "But I will think over -it; and then go to herself. Perhaps she feels lonely, and does not know -that there is a home awaiting her at Denny-mains." - -So both of them went on deck again; and found that the _White Dove_ was -already sailing away from the Trossachs-like shore of Loch Crinan, and -getting farther out into this squally green sea. There were bursts of -sunlight flying across the rocks and the white-tipped waves; but -ordinarily the sky was overcast, masses of grey and silvery cloud coming -swinging along from the north. - -Then the Laird showed himself discreet "before folk." He would not -appear to have any designs on Mary Avon's confidences. He talked in a -loud and confident fashion to John of Skye, about the weather, and the -Dorus Mor, and Corrievrechan. Finally, he suggested, in a facetious -way, that as the younger men had occasionally had their turn at the -helm, he might have his now, for the first time. - -"If ye please, sir," said Captain John, relinquishing the tiller to him -with a smile of thanks, and going forward to have a quiet pipe. - -But the Laird seemed a little bit confused by the rope which John had -confided to him. In a light breeze, and with his hand on the tiller, he -might have done very well; but this looped rope, to which he had to -cling so as to steady himself, seemed puzzling. And almost at the same -time the _White Dove_ began to creep up to the wind; and presently the -sails showed an ominous quiver. - -"Keep her full, sir!" called John of Skye, turning round. - -But instead of that the sails flapped more and more; there was a -rattling of blocks; two men came tumbling up from the forecastle, -thinking the yacht was being put about. - -"Shove your hand from ye, sir!" called out the skipper to the distressed -steersman; and this somewhat infantine direction soon put the vessel on -her course again. - -In a few minutes thereafter John of Skye put his pipe in his waistcoat -pocket. - -"We'll let her about now, sir," he called to the Laird. - -The two men who happened to be on deck went to the jib-sheets; John -himself leisurely proceeding to stand by the weather fore-sheet. Then, -as the Laird seemed still to await further orders, he called out-- - -"Helm hard down, sir, if ye please!" - -But this rope bothered the Laird. He angrily untwisted it, let it drop -on the deck, and then with both hands endeavoured to jam the tiller -towards the weather bulwarks, which were certainly nearer to him than -the lee bulwarks. - -"The other way, sir!" Mary Avon cried to him, anxiously. - -"Bless me! bless me! Of course!" he cried, in return; and then he let -the tiller go, and just managed to get out of its way as it swung to -leeward. And then as the bow sheered round, and the _White Dove_ made -away for the mouth of Loch Craignish on the port tack, he soon -discovered the use of the weather tiller rope, for the wind was now -blowing hard, and the yacht pitching a good deal. - -"We are getting on, Miss Mary!" he cried to her, crushing his wideawake -down over his forehead. "Have ye not got a bit song for us? What about -the two sailors that pitied all the poor folk in London?" - -She only cast down her eyes, and a faint colour suffused her cheeks: our -singing-bird had left us. - -"Howard, lad!" the Laird called out again, in his facetious manner, "ye -are not looking well, man. Is the pitching too much for you?" - -The Youth was certainly not looking very brilliant; but he managed to -conjure up a ghastly smile. - -"If I get ill," said he, "I will blame it on the steering." - -"'Deed, ye will not," said the Laird, who seemed to have been satisfied -with his performances. "I am not going to steer this boat through the -Dorus Mor. Here, John, come back to your post!" - -John of Skye came promptly aft; in no case would he have allowed an -amateur to pilot the _White Dove_ through this narrow strait with its -swirling currents. However, when the proper time came we got through -the Dorus Mor very easily, there being a strong flood tide to help us; -and the brief respite under the lee of the land allowed the Youth to -summon back his colour and his cheerfulness. - -The Laird had ensconced himself beside Mary Avon; he had a little circle -of admiring listeners; he was telling us, amid great shouts of laughter, -how Homesh had replied to one tourist, who had asked for something to -eat, that that was impossible, "bekass ahl the plates was cleaned;" and -how Homesh had answered another tourist, who represented that the towel -in the lavatory was not as it should be, that "more than fifty or sixty -people was using that towel this very day, and not a complaint from any -one of them;" and how Homesh, when his assistant stumbled and threw a -leg of mutton on to the deck, called out to him in his rage, "Ye young -teffle, I will knock the stairs down your head!" We were more and more -delighted with Homesh and his apocryphal adventures. - -But now other things than Homesh were claiming our attention. Once -through the Dorus, we found the wind blowing harder than ever, and a -heavy sea running. The day had cleared, and the sun was gleaming on the -white crests of the waves; but the air was thick with whirled spray, and -the decks were running wet. The _White Dove_ listed over before the -heavy wind, so that her scuppers were a foot deep in water; while -opening the gangway only relieved the pressure for a second or two; the -next moment a wave would surge in on the deck. The jib and -fore-staysail were soaked half-mast high. When we were on the port tack -the keel of the gig ploughed the crests of those massive and rolling -waves. This would, indeed, have been a day for Angus Sutherland. - -On one tack we ran right over to Corrievrechan; but we could see no -waterspouts or other symptoms of the whirling currents; we could only -hear the low roar all along the Scarba coast, and watch the darting of -the white foam up the face of the rocks. And then away again on the -port tack; with the women clinging desperately to the weather bulwarks, -lest perchance they should swiftly glide down the gleaming decks into -the hissing water that rolled along the lee scuppers. Despite the fact -of their being clad from top to toe in waterproofs, their faces were -streaming with the salt water; but they were warm enough, for the sun -was blazing hot, and the showers of spray were like showers of gleaming -diamonds. - -Luncheon was of an extremely pantomimic character; until, in the midst -of it, we were alarmed by hearing quick tramping overhead, and noise and -shouting. The Youth was hastily bidden to leave his pickle jars, and go -on deck to see what was happening. In a second or two he -returned--somewhat grueful--his hair wild--his face wet. - -"They are only taking in the mizen," says he; "but my cap has been -knocked overboard, and I have got about a quart of water down my neck." - -"It will do ye good, lad," observed the Laird, in the most heartless -manner; "and I will now trouble ye to pass me the marmalade." - -Patiently, all day long, we beat up against that inexorable north wind, -until, in the afternoon, it veered a point or two to the east, which -made an appreciable difference in our rate of progress. Then, the -farther the wind veered, the more it became a land wind; and the sea -abated considerably: so that long before we could make out Castle Osprey -on the face of the hill, we were in fairly calm waters, with a light -breeze on our starboard beam. The hot sun had dried the decks; there was -a possibility of walking; some went below to prepare for going ashore. - -We were returning to the world of telegrams, and letters, and -newspapers; we should soon know what the Commissioners of Strathgovan -were doing, and whether Johnny Guthrie had been fomenting sedition. But -it was not these things that troubled the Laird. He had been somewhat -meditative during the afternoon. At last, finding an occasion on which -nearly everybody was below but his hostess, he said to her, in a low -voice-- - -"The more I reflect on that matter we spoke of this morning, the more I -am driven to a conclusion that I would fain avoid. It would be a sad -blow to me. I have built much on the scheme I was telling ye of: -perhaps it was but a toy; but old people have a fondness for their toys -as well as young people." - -"I don't quite understand you, sir," said the other. - -"We will soon learn whether I am right," said the old Laird, with a -sigh; and then he turned to her and regarded her. - -"I doubt whether ye see this girl's character as clearly as I do," said -he. "Gentle, and soft, and delicate as she seems to be, she is of the -stuff the martyrs in former days were made of: if she believes a thing -to be right, she will do it, at any cost or sacrifice. Do ye mind the -first evening I met her at your house--how she sate and talked, and -laughed, with her sprained ankle swollen and black all the time, just -that she might not interfere with the pleasure of others?" - -The Laird paused for a moment or two. - -"I have been putting things together," he continued--but he did not seem -proud or boastful of his perspicacity: perhaps he would rather have -fought against the conclusion forced on him. "When she was up in the -north, it seemed to you as if she would have married the young man -Sutherland?" - -"Most undoubtedly." - -"The lass had her bit fortune then," said the Laird, thoughtfully. "Not -much, as ye say; but it would have been an independence. It would have -helped him in the world; it would have left him free. And she is proud -of what he has done, and as ambeetious as himself that he should become -a great man. Ay?" - -The Laird seemed very anxious about the varnishing of the gig; he kept -smoothing it with his forefinger. - -"And when he came to her the other day--it is but a guess of mine, -ma'am--she may have said to herself beforehand that she would not be a -drag on him, that she would leave him free to become great and famous, -that the sentiment of the moment was a trifling thing compared to what -the world expected from Dr. Sutherland. Ye will not forget what she -said on that point only the other day. And she may have sent him -away--with her own heart just like to break. I have just been putting -one or two possibeelities together, ma'am----" - -The colour had forsaken the cheeks of the woman who stood by his side. - -"And--and--if she was so cruel--and, and heartless--and, and -monstrous--she ought to be horsewhipped!" she exclaimed quite -breathlessly, and apparently not knowing what she was saying. - -But the Laird shook his head. - -"Poor lass! poor lass!" he said, gently; "she has had her troubles. No -doubt the loss of her bit fortune seemed a desperate thing to her; and -you know her first anxiety is conteenually for other -people--particularly them that have been kind to her--and that she -thinks no more of herself than if she had no feelings at all. Well, -ma'am, if what I am guessing at is true--it is only a speculation o' -mine, and I am far from sure; but if that is all that has to be put -right, I'm thinking it might be put right. We should thank God that we -are now and again able to put some small matter straight in the world." - -The Laird was more busy than ever with the varnish, and he went nearer -the boat. His fingers were nervous, and there was a strange, sad look -in the sunken grey eyes. - -"Poor lass! if that is all her trouble, it might not be difficult to -help her," said he; and then he added slowly--and the woman beside him -knew, rather than saw, that the sad grey eyes were somehow wet--"But I -had thought to see her living at Denny-mains: it was--it was a sort of -toy of my old age." - - - - - *CHAPTER VII.* - - *A PARABLE.* - - -Now we had not been five minutes within the walls of Castle Osprey when -great shouts of laughter were heard in the direction of the library; and -presently the Laird came quickly into the room where the two women were -standing at the open window. He was flourishing a newspaper in his -hand; delight, sarcasm, and desperate humour shone in his face. He -would not notice that Queen Titania looked very much inclined to cry, as -she gazed out on the forlorn remains of what had once been a -rose-garden; he would pay no heed to Mary Avon's wan cheek and pensive -eyes. - -"Just listen to this, ma'am, just listen to this," he called out -briskly; and all the atmosphere of the room seemed to wake up into -cheerfulness and life. "Have I not told ye often about that -extraordinary body, Johnny Guthrie? Now just listen!" - -It appeared that the Laird, without even bestowing a glance on the pile -of letters lying waiting for him, had at once dived into the mass of -newspapers, and had succeeded in fishing out the report of the last -meeting of the Strathgovan Police Commissioners. With a solemnity that -scarcely veiled his suppressed mirth, he said-- - -"Just listen, ma'am: 'The fortnightly meeting of the Strathgovan Police -Commissioners was held on Monday, Provost McKendrick in the chair. Mr. -Robert Johnstone said he had much pleasure in congratulating the -chairman and the other gentlemen assembled on the signal and able manner -in which the fire brigade had done their duty on the previous Saturday -at the great conflagration in Coulterside buildings; and he referred -especially to the immense assistance given by the new fire engine -recently purchased by the commissioners. (Hear! hear!) He could assure -the meeting that but for the zealous and patriotic ardour of the -brigade--aided, no doubt, by the efficient working of the -steam-engine--a most valuable property would have been devoted _holus -bolus_ to the flames.'" - -The Laird frowned at this phrase. - -"Does the crayture think he is talking Latin?" he asked, apparently of -himself. - -However, he continued his reading of the report-- - -"'Provost McKendrick, replying to these observations, observed that it -was certainly a matter for congratulation that the fire brigade should -have proved their efficiency in so distinct a manner, considering the -outlay that had been incurred; and that now the inhabitants of the Burgh -would perceive the necessity of having more plugs. So far all the money -had been well spent. Mr. J. Guthrie'"--but here the Laird could not -contain his laughter any longer. - -"That's the Johnny, ma'am," he cried, in explanation, "that's the Johnny -Guthrie I was telling ye about--the poor, yaumering, pernickity, -querulous crayture! 'Mr. J. Guthrie begged to say he could not join in -these general felicitations. They were making a great deal of noise -about nothing. The fire was no fire at all; a servant-girl could have -put it out with a pail. He had come from Glasgow by the eleven o'clock -'bus, and there was then not a trace of a fire to be seen. The real -damage done to the property was not done by the fire, but by the dirty -water drawn by the fire brigade from the Coulter-burn, which dirty water -had entirely destroyed Mrs. MacInnes's best bedroom furniture." - -The Laird flourished the newspaper, and laughed aloud in his joy; the -mere reading of the extract had so thoroughly discomfited his enemy. - -"Did ye ever hear the like o' that body?" he cried. "A snarlin', -quarlin', gruntin', growlin', fashious crayture! He thinks there could -not be any fire, just because he was not in time to see it. Oh, Johnny, -Johnny, Johnny, I'm just fair ashamed o' ye." - -But at this point the Laird seemed to become aware that he had given way -too much to his love of pure and pithy English. He immediately said, in -a more formal manner-- - -"I am glad to perceive, ma'am, that the meeting paid no heed to these -strictures, but went on to consider whether the insurance companies -should not share the expense of maintaining the fire brigade. That was -most proper--most judeecious. I'm thinking that after dinner I could -not do better than express my views upon that subject, in a letter -addressed to the Provost. It would be in time to be read at the monthly -sederunt." - -"Come along, then, Mary, and let us get through our letters," said his -hostess, turning away with a sigh from the dilapidated rose-garden. - -As she passed the piano, she opened it. - -"How strange it will sound!" she said. - -She played a few bars of Mary Avon's favourite song; somehow the chords -seemed singularly rich and full and beautiful after our long listening -to the monotonous rush of the sea. Then she put her hand within the -girl's arm and gently led her away, and said to her as they passed -through the hall - - "'Oh, little did my mither think - When first she cradled me' - -that ever I should have come back to such a picture of desolation. But -we must put a brave face on it. If the autumn kills the garden, it -glorifies the hills. You will want all your colour-tubes when we show -you Loch Hourn." - -"That was the place the Doctor was anxious to veesit," said the Laird, -who was immediately behind them. "Ay. Oh, yes, we will show Miss Mary -Loch Hourn; she will get some material for sketches there, depend on't. -Just the finest loch in the whole of the Highlands. When I can get Tom -Galbraith first of all persuaded to see Bunessan----" - -But we heard no more about Tom Galbraith. Queen Titania had uttered a -slight exclamation as she glanced over the addresses of the letters -directed to her. - -"From Angus!" she said, as she hurriedly opened one of the envelopes, -and ran her eye over the contents. - -Then her face grew grave, and inadvertently she turned to the Laird. - -"In three days," she said, "he was to start for Italy." - -She looked at the date. - -"He must have left London already!" said she, and then she examined the -letter further. "And he does not say where he is going." - -The Laird looked grave too--for a second. But he was an excellent actor. -He began whistling the air that his hostess had been playing. He turned -over his letters and papers carelessly. At length he said, with an air -of fine indifference-- - -"The grand thing of being away at sea is to teach ye the comparateevely -trifling importance of anything that can happen on land." - -He tossed the unopened letters about, only regarding the addresses. - -"What care I what the people may have been saying about me in my -absence?--the real thing is that we got food to eat and were not swept -into Corrievrechan. Come, Miss Mary, I will just ask ye to go for a -stroll through the garden wi' me, until dinner-time; our good friends -will not ask us to dress on an evening like this, just before we have -got everything on shore. Twenty-five meenutes, ma'am? Very well. If -anybody has been abusing me in my absence, we'll listen to the poor -fellow after dinner, when we can get the laugh made general, and so make -some good out of him; but just now we'll have the quiet of the sunset to -ourselves. Dear, dear me! we used to have the sunset after dinner when -we were away up about Canna and Uist." - -Mary Avon seemed to hesitate. - -"What! not a single letter for ye? That shows very bad taste on the -pairt of the young men about England. But I never thought much o' them. -From what I hear, they are mostly given over to riding horses, and -shooting pheasants, and what not. But never mind. I want ye to come out -for a stroll wi' me, my lass: ye'll see some fine colour about the -Morven hills presently, or I'm mistaken." - -"Very well, sir," said she, obediently; and together they went out into -the garden. - -Now it was not until some minutes after the dinner-gong had sounded that -we again saw these two, and then there was nothing in the manner of -either of them to suggest to any one that anything had happened. It was -not until many days afterwards that we obtained, bit by bit, an account -of what had occurred, and even then it was but a stammering, and -disjointed, and shy account. However, such as it was, it had better -appear here, if only to keep the narrative straight. - -The Laird, walking up and down the gravel path with his companion, said -that he did not so much regret the disappearance of the roses, for there -were plenty of other flowers to take their place. Then he thought he -and she might go and sit on a seat which was placed under a drooping ash -in the centre of the lawn, for from this point they commanded a fine -view of the western seas and hills. They had just sat down there when -he said-- - -"My girl, I am going to take the privilege of an old man, and speak -frankly to ye. I have been watching ye, as it were--and your mind is -not at ease." - -Miss Avon hastily assured him that it was quite, and begged to draw his -attention to the yacht in the bay, where the men were just lowering the -ensign, at sunset. - -The Laird returned to the subject; entreated her not to take it ill that -he should interfere; and then reminded her of a certain night on Loch -Leven, and of a promise he had then made her. Would he be fulfilling -that solemn undertaking if he did not, at some risk of vexing her, and -of being considered a prying, foolish person, endeavour to help her if -she was in trouble? - -Miss Avon said how grateful she was to him for all his kindness to her; -and how his promise had already been amply fulfilled. She was not in -trouble. She hoped no one thought that. Everything that had happened -was for the best. And here--as was afterwards admitted--she burst into -a fit of crying, and was very much mortified, and ashamed of herself. - -But at this point the Laird would appear to have taken matters into his -own hand. First of all he began to speak of his nephew--of his bright -good nature, and so forth--of his professed esteem for her--of certain -possibilities that he, the Laird, had been dreaming about with the fond -fancy of an old man. And rather timidly he asked her--if it were true -that she thought everything had happened for the best--whether, after -all, his nephew Howard might not speak to her? It had been the dream of -his old age to see these two together at Denny-mains, or on board that -steam yacht he would buy for them on the Clyde. Was that not possible? - -Here, at least, the girl was honest and earnest enough--even anxiously -earnest. She assured him that that was quite impossible. It was -hopeless. The Laird remained silent for some minutes, holding her hand. - -"Then," said he, rather sadly, but with an affectation of grave humour, -"I am going to tell you a story. It is about a young lass, who was very -proud, and who kept her thoughts very much to herself, and would not -give her friends a chance of helping her. And she was very fond of a--a -young Prince we will call him--who wanted to go away to the wars, and -make a great name for himself. No one was prouder of the Prince than -the girl, mind ye, and she encouraged him in everything, and they were -great friends, and she was to give him all her diamonds, and pearls, and -necklaces--she would throw them into his treasury, like a Roman -matron--just that he might go away and conquer, and come back and marry -her. But lo, and behold! one night all her jewels and bracelets were -stolen! Then what does she do? Would ye believe it? She goes and -quarrels with that young Prince, and tells him to go away and fight his -battles for himself, and never to come back and see her any more--just -as if any one could fight a battle wi' a sore heart. Oh, she was a -wicked, wicked lass, to be so proud as that, when she had many friends -that would willingly have helped her.... Sit down, my girl, sit down, -my girl, never mind the dinner; they can wait for us.... Well, ye see, -the story goes on that there was an old man--a foolish old man--they -used to laugh at him, because of his fine fishing-tackle, and the very -few fish he caught wi' the tackle--and this doited old body was always -intermeddling in other people's business. And what do you think he does -but go and say to the young lass: 'Ha, have I found ye out? Is it left -for an old man like me--and me a bachelor too, who should know but -little of the quips and cranks of a young lass's ways--is it left for an -old man like me to find out that fine secret o' yours?' She could not -say a word. She was dumbfounded. She had not the face to deny it: he -_had_ found out what that wicked girl, with all her pride, and her -martyrdom, and her sprained ankles, had been about. And what do you -think he did then? Why, as sure as sure can be, he had got all the -young lass's property in his pocket; and before she could say Jack -Robinson, he tells her that he is going to send straight off for the -Prince--this very night--a telegram to London----" - -The girl had been trembling, and struggling with the hand that held -hers. At last she sprang to her feet, with a cry of entreaty. - -"Oh, no, no, no, sir! You will not do that! You will not degrade me!" - -And then--this is her own account, mind--the Laird rose too, and still -held her by the hand, and spoke sternly to her. - -"Degrade you?" said he. "Foolish lass! Come in to your dinner." - -When these two did come in to dinner--nearly a quarter of an hour -late--their hostess looked anxiously from one to the other. But what -could she perceive? Mary Avon was somewhat pale, and she was silent: -but that had been her way of late. As for the Laird, he came in -whistling the tune of the Queen's Maries, which was a strange grace -before meat, and he looked airily around him at the walls. - -"I would just like to know," said he lightly, "whether there is a single -house in all Scotland where ye will not find an engraving of one or -other of Mr. Thomas Faed's pictures in some one of the rooms?" - -And he preserved this careless and indifferent demeanour during dinner. -After dinner he strolled into the library. He would venture upon a -small cigar. His sole companion was the person whose humble duty in -this household is to look after financial matters, so that other folks -may enjoy themselves in idleness. - -The Laird lay back in an easy chair, stretched out his legs, lit his -cigar, and held it at arm's length, as if it were something that ought -to be looked at at a distance. - -"You had something to do with the purchase of Miss Mary's American -stock, eh?" said he, pretending to be concerned about the end of the -cigar. - -"Yes." - -"What was it?" - -"Funded Five per Cent." - -"What would be about the value of it now?" - -"Just now? Oh, perhaps 106, or 107." - -"No, no, no. I mean, if the bonds that that ill-faured scoondrel -carried away with him were to be sold the now, what money, what English -money, would they fetch?" - -But this required some calculation. - -"Probably about 7,300*l*." - -"I was asking," said the Laird, "because I was wondering whether there -was any chance of tracing them." - -"Not the least. They are like bank-notes--more useful indeed, to a -swindler than even bank-notes." - -"Ay, is that so?" said the Laird; and he seemed to be so charmed with -his whistling of the air of Queen's Maries that he returned to that -performance. Oddly enough, however, he never ventured beyond the first -line: perhaps he was afraid of missing the tune. - -"Seven thousand, three hundred," said he, meditatively. "Man, that's a -strong cigar--little, and black, and strong. Seven thousand, three -hundred. Girls are strange craytures. I remember what that young Doctor -was saying once about weemen being better able to bear pain than men, -and not so much afraid of it either----" - -And here the Queen's Maries came in again. - -"It would be a strange thing," said the Laird, with a sort of rueful -laugh, "if I were to have a steam yacht all to myself, and cruise about -in search of company, eh? No, no; that will not do. My neighbours in -Strathgovan will never say that I deserted them, just when great -improvements and serious work have to be looked forward to. I will not -have it said that I ran away, just to pleasure myself. Howard, my lad," -he added, imaginatively addressing his absent nephew, "I doubt but ye'll -have to whistle for that steam yacht." - -The Laird rose. - -"I think I will smoke in the garden now: it is a fine evening." - -He turned at the door, and seemed suddenly to perceive a pair of stag's -horns over the chimney-piece. - -"That's a grand set o' horns," said he; and then he added carelessly, -"What bank did ye say they American bonds were in?" - -"The London and Westminster." - -"They're just a noble pair o' horns," said he emphatically. "I wonder -ye do not take them with ye to London." And then he left. - - - - - *CHAPTER VIII.* - - *A RELEASE.* - - -We had a long spell ashore at this time, for we were meditating a -protracted voyage, and everything had to be left ship-shape behind us. -The Laird was busy from morning till night; but it would appear that all -his attention was not wholly given to the affairs of Strathgovan. -Occasionally he surprised his hostess by questions which had not the -least reference to asphalte pavements or gymnasium chains. He kept his -own counsel, nevertheless. - -By and by his mysterious silence so piqued and provoked her that she -seized a favourable opportunity for asking him, point-blank, whether he -had not spoken to Mary Avon. They were in the garden at the time, he -seated on an iron seat, with a bundle of papers beside him; she standing -on the gravel-path with some freshly-cut flowers in her hand. There was -a little colour in her face, for she feared that the question might be -deemed impertinent; yet, after all, it was no idle curiosity that -prompted her to ask it. Was she not as much interested in the girl's -happiness as any one could be? - -"I have," said he, looking up at her calmly. - -Well, she knew that. Was this all the answer she was to get? - -"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said he, after a second, "if I seem to be -making a mystery where there is no mystery. I hate all foolishness like -that. I do not myself believe there is anything of the kind; but I will -just ask ye to wait for a day or two before speaking to the lass -herself. After that, I will leave it all in your hands. I trust ye -will consider that I have done my part." - -"Oh, I am sure of that, sir," said she: though how could she be sure? - -"There is not much I would not do for that lass," said he, somewhat -absently. "She has a wonderful way of getting a grip of one's heart, as -it were. And if I could have wished that things had turned out -otherwise----" - -The Laird did not finish the sentence. He seemed to rouse himself. - -"Toots! toots!" said he, frowning. "When we are become men, we have to -put away childish things. What is the use of crying for the moon? -There, ma'am, is something serious and practical to consider--something -better worth considering than childish dreams and fancies." - -And then, with much lucidity and with a most dispassionate parade of -arguments on both sides, he put before her this knotty question: whether -it was a fit and proper thing for a body like the Strathgovan -Commissioners to own public-house property? That was the general -question. The immediate question was whether the "William Wallace" -public-house, situated in the Netherbiggins road, should be re-let or -summarily closed? On the one hand it was contended that the closing of -the "William Wallace" would only produce a greater run on the other -licensed houses; on the other hand, it was urged that a body like the -commissioners should set an example and refuse to encourage a -mischievous traffic. Now the Laird's own view of the liquor -question--which he always put forward modestly, as subject to the -opinion of those who had had a wider legislative and administrative -experience than himself--was, that the total suppression of the liquor -traffic was a chimera; and that a practical man should turn to see what -could be done in the way of stringent police regulations. He was -proceeding to expound these points when he suddenly caught sight of the -Youth, who had appeared at the gate, with two long fishing rods over his -shoulder. He dropped his voice. - -"That just reminds me, ma'am," said he. "I am greatly obliged to ye--my -nephew equally so--for your great kindness to him. I think it will not -be necessary for him to trespass on your forbearance any longer." - -"I don't quite understand you." - -"I think I will let him go back to his own pursuits now," said the -Laird. - -"Oh, no," she said. "By all means let him come with us to Stornoway. -He has been very good in not grumbling over any inconvenience. You -would not send him away--just as we are going to start on our longest -cruise?" - -She could not say anything further at the moment, for the Youth came up -the gravel-path and threw the two huge rods on to the lawn. - -"Look there, uncle!" he cried. "I don't care what size of lithe you get -on the line, I'll bet those rods won't break, any way. Sutherland used -to be lamenting over the big fish you lost up in the north: try them -with those things!" - -Here their hostess passed on and into the house with her flowers. Uncle -and nephew were left by themselves. - -"Howard, lad," said the elder of the two men, "bring that chair over, -and sit opposite me, I do not want my papers to be disturbed. There are -one or two matters of business I would like to put before ye." - -The Youth did as he was bid. The Laird paused for a second or two; then -he began-- - -"When I asked ye to come to the Highlands," said he, slowly, "I put an -alternative before ye, with certain consequences. There were two -things, one of which I wanted ye to do. Ye have done neither." - -Howard Smith looked somewhat alarmed: his hostess was not there to put a -jocular air over that bargain. - -"Well, sir," he stammered, "I--I could not do what was impossible. I--I -have done my best." - -"Nevertheless," said the Laird, in a matter-of-fact way, "neither has -been done. I will not say it has been altogether your fault. So far as -I have seen, ye have been on very good terms with the young leddy; -and--and--yes, paid her what attention was expected of ye; and----" - -"Well, you see, uncle," he interposed, eagerly, "what was the use of my -proposing to the girl only to be snubbed? Don't I know she cares no -more about me than about the man in the moon? Why, anybody could see -that. Of course, you know, if you insist on it--if you drive me to -it--if you want me to go in and get snubbed--I'll do it. I'll take my -chance. But I don't think it's fair. I mean," he added hastily, "I -don't think it is necessary." - -"I do not wish to drive ye to anything," said the Laird--on any other -occasion he might have laughed at the Youth's ingenuousness, but now he -had serious business on hand. "I am content to take things as they are. -Neither of the objects I had in view has been accomplished; perhaps both -were impossible; who can tell what lies in store for any of us, when we -begin to plan and scheme? However, I am not disposed to regard it as -your fault. I will impose no fine or punishment, as if we were playing -at theatre-acting. I have neither kith nor kin of my own; and it is my -wish that, at my death, Denny-mains should go to you----" - -The Youth's face turned red; yet he did not know how to express his -gratitude. It did not quite seem a time for sentiment; the Laird was -talking in such a matter-of-fact way. - -"--Subject to certain conditions," he continued. "First of all, I spoke -some time ago of spending a sum of 3,000*l.* on a steam yacht. Dismiss -that from your mind. I cannot afford it; neither will you be able." - -The young man stared at this. For although he cared very little about -the steam yacht--having a less liking for the sea than some of us--he -was surprised to hear that a sum like 3,000*l.* was even a matter for -consideration to a reputedly rich man like his uncle. - -"Oh, certainly, sir," said he. "I don't at all want a steam yacht." - -"Very well, we will now proceed." - -The Laird took up one of the documents beside him, and began to draw -certain lines on the back of it. - -"Ye will remember," said he, pointing with his pencil, "that where the -estate proper of Denny-mains runs out to the Coulter-burn Road, there is -a piece of land belonging to me, on which are two tenements, yielding -together, I should say, about 300*l.* a year. By and by, if a road -should be cut so--across to the Netherbiggins road--that land will be -more valuable; many a one will be wanting to feu that piece then, mark -my words. However, let that stand by. In the meantime I have occasion -for a sum of ten thousand three hundred pounds--" - -The Youth looked still more alarmed: had his uncle been speculating? - -"--and I have considered it my duty to ask you, as the future proprietor -of Denny-mains in all human probability, whether ye would rather have -these two tenements sold, with as much of the adjoining land as would -make up that sum, or whether ye would have the sum made a charge on the -estate generally, and take your chance of that land rising in value? -What say ye?" - -The Laird had been prepared for all this; but the Youth was not. He -looked rather frightened. - -"I should be sorry to hear, sir," he stammered, "that--that--you were -pressed for money----" - -"Pressed for money!" said the Laird severely; "I am not pressed for -money. There is not a square yard of Denny-mains with a farthing of -mortgage on it. Come, let's hear what ye have to say." - -"Then," said the young man, collecting his wits, "my opinion is, that a -man should do what he likes with his own." - -"That's well said," returned the Laird, much mollified. "And I'm no -sure but that if we were to roup[#] that land, that quarrelsome body -Johnny Guthrie might not be trying to buy it; and I would not have him -for a neighbour on any consideration. Well, I will write to Todd and -Buchanan about it at once." - - -[#] To roup, to sell by public auction. - - -The Laird rose and began to bundle his papers together. The Youth laid -hold of the fishing-rods, and was about to carry them off somewhere, -when he was suddenly called back. - -"Dear me!" said the Laird, "my memory's going. There was another thing -I was about to put before ye, lad. Our good friends here have been very -kind in asking ye to remain so long. I'm thinking ye might offer to -give up your state-room before they start on this long trip. Is there -any business or occupation ye would like to be after in the south?" - -The flash of light that leapt to the young man's face! - -"Why, uncle!" he exclaimed eagerly, diving his hand into his pocket, "I -have twice been asked by old Barnes to go to his place--the best -partridge shooting in Bedfordshire----" - -But the Youth recollected himself. - -"I mean," said he seriously, "Barnes, the swell solicitor, don't you -know--Hughes, Barnes, and Barnes. It would be an uncommonly good thing -for me to stand well with them. They are just the making of a young -fellow at the bar when they take him up. Old Barnes's son was at -Cambridge with me; but he doesn't do anything--an idle fellow--cares for -nothing but shooting and billiards. I really ought to cultivate old -Barnes." - -The Laird eyed him askance. - -"Off ye go to your pairtridge-shooting, and make no more pretence," said -he; and then he added, "And look here, my lad, when ye leave this house -I hope ye will express in a proper form your thanks for the kindness ye -have received. No, no; I do not like the way of you English in that -respect. Ye take no notice of anything. Ye receive a man's hospitality -for a week, a fortnight, a month; and then ye shake hands with him at -the door; and walk out--as if nothing had happened! These may be good -manners in England; they are not here." - -"I can't make a speech, uncle," said the Youth slyly. "They don't teach -us those things at the English public schools." - -"Ye gowk," said the Laird severely, "do ye think I want ye to make a -speech like Norval on the Grampian Hills? I want ye to express in -proper language your thankfulness for the attention and kindness that -have been bestowed on ye. What are ye afraid of? Have ye not got a -mouth? From all that I can hear the English have a wonderful fluency of -speech, when there is no occasion for it at all: bletherin' away like -twenty steam-engines, and not a grain of wheat to be found when a' the -stour is laid." - - - - - *CHAPTER IX.* - - *"WHILE THE RIPPLES FOLD UPON SANDS OF GOLD."* - - -The days passed, and still the Laird professed to be profoundly busy; -and our departure for the north was further and further postponed. The -Youth had at first expressed his intention of waiting to see us off; -which was very kind on his part, considering how anxious he was to -cultivate the acquaintance of that important solicitor. His patience, -however, at last gave out; and he begged to be allowed to start on a -certain morning. The evening before we walked down to the shore with -him, and got pulled out to the yacht, and sate on deck while he went -below to pack such things as had been left in his state-room. - -"It will be a strange thing," said our gentle Admiral-in-chief, "for us -to have a cabin empty. That has never happened to us in the Highlands, -all the time we have been here. It will be a sort of ghost's room; we -shall not dare to look into it for fear of seeing something to awaken -old memories." - -She put her hand in her pocket, and drew out some small object. - -"Look," said she, quite sentimentally. - -It was only a bit of pencil: if it had been the skull of Socrates she -could not have regarded it with a greater interest. - -"It is the pencil Angus used to mark our games with. I found it in the -saloon the day before yesterday;" and then she added, almost to herself, -"I wonder where he is now." - -The answer to this question startled us. - -"In Paris," said the Laird. - -But no sooner had he uttered the words than he seemed somewhat -embarrassed. - -"That is, I believe so," he said hastily. "I am not in correspondence -with him. I do not know for certain. I have heard--it has been stated -to me--that he might perhaps remain until the end of this week in Paris -before going on to Naples." - -He appeared rather anxious to avoid being further questioned. He began -to discourse upon certain poems of Burns, whom he had once or twice -somewhat slightingly treated. He was now bent on making ample amends. In -especial, he asked whether his hostess did not remember the beautiful -verse in "Mary Morison," which describes the lover looking on at the -dancing of a number of young people, and conscious only that his own -sweetheart is not there? - -"Do ye remember it, ma'am?" said he; and he proceeded to repeat it for -her-- - - 'Yestreen, when to the trembling string - The dance gaed through the lighted ha', - To thee my fancy took its wing, - I sat, but neither heard nor saw. - - 'Though this was fair, and that was braw, - And yon the toast of a' the town, - I sighed and said amang them a', - "Ye are na Mary Morison."' - ---Beautiful, beautiful, is it not? And that is an extraordinary -business--and as old as the hills too--of one young person waling[#] out -another as the object of all the hopes of his or her life; and nothing -will do but that one. Ye may show them people who are better to look -at, richer, cleverer; ye may reason and argue; ye may make plans, and -what not: it is all of no use. And people who have grown up, and who -forgot what they themselves were at twenty or twenty-five, may say what -they like about the foolishness of a piece of sentiment; and they may -prove to the young folks that this madness will not last, and that they -should marry for more substantial reasons; but ye are jist talking to -the wind! Madness or not madness, it is human nature; and ye might jist -as well try to fight against the tides. I will say this, too," -continued the Laird, and as he warmed to his subject, he rose, and began -to pace up and down the deck, "if a young man were to come and tell me -that he was ready to throw up a love-match for the sake of prudence and -worldly advantage, I would say to him: 'Man, ye are a poor crayture. Ye -have not got the backbone of a mouse in ye.' I have no respect for a -young man who has prudence beyond his years; not one bit. If it is -human nature for a man of fifty years to laugh at sentiment and romance, -it is human nature for a man at twenty-five to believe in it; and he who -does not believe in it then, I say is a poor crayture. He will never -come to anything. He may make money; but he will be a poor stupid ass -all his days, just without those experiences that make life a beautiful -thing to look back on." - - -[#] _Waling_--choosing. - - -He came and sate down by Mary Avon. - -"Perhaps a sad thing, too," said he, as he took her hand in his; "but -even that is better than a dull causeway, with an animal trudging along -and sorely burdened with the world's wealth. And now, my lass, have ye -got everything tight and trim for the grand voyage?" - -"She has been at it again, sir," says his hostess, interposing. "She -wants to set out for the south to-morrow morning." - -"It would be a convenient chance for me," said the girl simply. "Mr. -Smith might be good enough to see me as far as Greenock--though, indeed, -I don't at all mind travelling by myself. I must stop at Kendal--is -that where the junction is?--for I promised the poor old woman who died -in Edinburgh that I would call and see some relations of hers who live -near Windermere." - -"They can wait, surely?" said the Laird, with frowning eyebrows, as if -the poor people at Windermere had attempted to do him some deadly -injury. - -"Oh, there is no hurry for them," said she. "They do not even know I am -coming. But this chance of Mr. Smith going by the steamer to-morrow -would be convenient." - -"Put that fancy out of your head," said he with decision. "Ye are going -to no Greenock, and to no Kendal, at the present time. Ye are going -away with us to the north, to see such things as ye never saw before in -your life. And if ye are anxious to get on with your work, I'll tell ye -what I'll do. There's our Provost M'Kendrick has been many a time -telling me of the fine salmon-fishing he got at the west side of -Lewis--I think he said at a place called Gometra----" - -"Grimersta," is here suggested. - -"The very place. Ye shall paint a picture of Grimersta, my lass, on -commission for the Provost. I authorise ye: if he will not take it, I -will take it myself. Never mind what the place is like--the Provost has -no more imagination than a boiled lobster; but he knows when he has good -friends, and good fishing, and a good glass of whisky; and, depend on -it, he'll be proud to have a picture of the place, on your own terms. I -tell ye I authorise ye." - -Here the Youth came on deck, saying he was now ready to go ashore. - -"Do you know, sir," said his hostess, rising, "what Mary has been trying -to get me to believe?--that she is afraid of the equinoctials!" - -The Laird laughed aloud. - -"That _is_ a good one--that _is_ a good one!" he cried. "I never heard -a better story about Homesh." - -"I know the gales are very wild here when they begin," said Miss Avon -seriously. "Every one says so." - -But the Laird only laughs the more, and is still chuckling to himself as -he gets down into the gig: the notion of Mary Avon being afraid of -anything--of fifteen dozen of equinoctial gales, for example--was to him -simply ludicrous. - -But a marked and unusual change came over the Laird's manner when we got -back to Castle Osprey. During all the time he had been with us, -although he had had occasionally to administer rebukes, with more or -less of solemnity, he had never once lost his temper. We should have -imagined it impossible for anything to have disturbed his serene dignity -of demeanour. But now--when he discovered that there was no letter -awaiting any one of us--his impatience seemed dangerously akin to -vexation and anger. He would have the servants summoned and -cross-examined. Then he would not believe them; but must needs search -the various rooms for himself. The afternoon post had really brought -nothing but a newspaper--addressed to the Laird--and that he testily -threw into the waste-paper basket, without opening it. We had never -seen him give way like this before. - -At dinner, too, his temper was no better. He began to deride the -business habits of the English people--which was barely civil. He said -that the English feared the Scotch and the Germans just as the Americans -feared the Chinese--because the latter were the more indefatigable -workers. He declared that if the London men had less Amontillado sherry -and cigarettes in their private office-rooms, their business would be -conducted with much greater accuracy and dispatch. Then another thought -struck him: were the servants prepared to swear that no registered -letter had been presented in the afternoon, and taken away again because -there was no one in the house to sign the receipt? Inquiry being made, -it was found that no such letter had been presented. But finally, when -the turmoil about this wretched thing was at its height, the Laird was -pressed to say from which part of the country the missive was expected. -From London, he said. It was then pointed out to him that the London -letters were usually sent along in the evening--sometimes as late as -eight or nine o'clock. He went on with his dinner, grumbling. - -Sure enough, before he had finished dinner, a footstep was heard on the -gravel outside. The Laird, without any apology, jumped up and went to -the window. - -"There's the postman," said he, as he resumed his seat. "Ye might give -him a shilling, ma'am: it is a long climb up the hill." - -It was the postman, no doubt; and he had brought a letter, but it was -not for the Laird. We were all apprehensive of a violent storm when the -servant passed on and handed this letter to Mary Avon. But the Laird -said nothing. Miss Avon, like a properly-conducted school-girl, put the -letter in her pocket. - -There was no storm. On the contrary, the Laird got quite cheerful. -When his hostess hoped that no serious inconvenience would result from -the non-arrival of the letter, he said, "Not the least!" He began and -told us the story of the old lady who endeavoured to engage the -practical Homesh--while he was collecting tickets--in a disquisition on -the beauties of Highland scenery, and who was abruptly bidden to "mind -her own pussness"; we had heard the story not more than thirty-eight -times, perhaps, from various natives of Scotland. - -But the letter about which the Laird had been anxious had--as some of us -suspected--actually arrived, and was then in Mary Avon's pocket. After -dinner the two women went into the drawing-room. Miss Avon sate down to -the piano, and began to play, idly enough, the air called _Heimweh_. Of -what home was she thinking then--this waif and stray among the winds of -the world? - -Tea was brought in. At last the curiosity of the elder woman could no -longer be restrained. - -"Mary," said she, "are you not going to read that letter?" - -"Dear me!" said the girl, plunging into her pocket. "I had forgotten I -had a letter to read." - -She took it out and opened it, and began to read. Her face looked -puzzled at first, then alarmed. She turned to her friend. - -"What is it? What can it mean?" she said, in blank dismay; and the -trembling fingers handed her the letter. - -Her friend had less difficulty in understanding; although, to be sure, -before she had finished this perfectly plain and matter-of-fact -communication, there were tears in her eyes. It was merely a letter from -the manager of a bank in London, begging to inform Miss Avon that he had -just received, through Messrs. Todd and Buchanan, of Glasgow, a sum of -10,300*l.* to be placed to her credit. He was also desired to say, that -this sum was entirely at her own free disposal; but the donor would -prefer--if she had no objection--that it should be invested in some home -security, either in a good mortgage, or in the Metropolitan Board of -Works Stock. It was a plain and simple letter. - -"Oh, Mary, don't you understand--don't you understand?" said she. "He -meant to have given you a steam yacht, if--if you married Howard Smith. -He has given you all the money you lost; and the steam yacht too. And -there is not a word of regret about all his plans and schemes being -destroyed. And this is the man we have all been making fun of." - -In her conscious self-abasement she did not perceive how bewildered--how -absolutely frightened--this girl was. Mary Avon took back the letter -mechanically; she stood silent for a second or two; then she said, -almost in a whisper-- - -"Giving me all that money! Oh, I cannot take it--I cannot take it! I -should not have stayed here--I should not have told him -anything--I--I--wish to go away----" - -But the common sense of the elder woman came to her rescue. She took -the girl's hand firmly, and said-- - -"You shall not go away. And when it is your good fortune to meet with -such a friend as that, you shall not wound him and insult him by -refusing what he has given to you. No; but you will go at once and -thank him." - -"I cannot--I cannot," she said, with both her hands trembling. "What -shall I say? How can I thank him? If he were my own father or brother, -how could I thank him?----" - -Her friend left the room for a second, and returned. - -"He is in the library alone," said she. "Go to him. And do not be so -ungrateful as to even speak of refusing." - -The girl had no time to compose any speech. She walked to the library -door, timidly tapped at it, and entered. The Laird was seated in an -easy-chair, reading. - -When he saw her come in--he had been expecting a servant with coffee, -probably--he instantly put aside his book. - -"Well, Miss Mary?" said he cheerfully. - -She hesitated. She could not speak; her throat was choking. And then, -scarcely knowing what she did, she sank down before him, and put her -head and her hands on his knees, and burst out crying and sobbing. And -all that he could hear of any speech-making, or of any gratitude, or -thanks, was only two words-- - -"_My father!_" - -He put his hand gently on the soft black hair. - -"Child," said he, "it is nothing. I have kept my word." - - - - - *CHAPTER X.* - - *BACKWARD THOUGHTS.* - - -That was a beautiful morning on which we got up at an unearthly hour to -see the Youth depart--all of us, that is to say, except Mary Avon. And -yet she was not usually late. The Laird could not understand it. He -kept walking from one room to another, or hovering about the hall; and -when the breakfast-gong sounded, he refused to come in and take his -place without his accustomed companion. But just at this moment whom -should he behold entering by the open door but Mary Avon herself--laden -with her artistic impedimenta? He pounced on her at once, and seized -the canvas. - -"Bless me, lassie, what have ye been about? Have ye done all this this -morning? Ye must have got up in the middle of the night!" - -It was but a rough sketch, after all--or the beginnings of a sketch, -rather--of the wide, beautiful sea and mountain view from the garden of -Castle Osprey. - -"I thought, sir," said she, in a somewhat hesitating way, "that you -might perhaps be so kind as to accept from me those sketches I have made -on board the _White Dove_--and--and if they were at Denny-mains, I -should like to have the series complete--and--and it would naturally -begin with a sketch from the garden here----" - -He looked at her for a moment, with a grave, perhaps wistful, kindness -in his face. - -"My lass, I would rather have seen you at Denny-mains." - -That was the very last word he ever uttered concerning the dream that -had just been destroyed. And it was only about this time, I think, that -we began to recognise the simple, large, noble nature of this man. We -had been too much inclined to regard the mere husks and externals of his -character--to laugh at his assumption of parochial importance, his -solemn discussions of the Semple case, his idiotic stories about Homesh. -And it was not a mere freak of generosity that revealed to us something -of the finer nature of this old Scotchman. People as rich as he have -often paid bigger sums than 10,300*l.* for the furtherance of a hobby. -But it was to put away his hobby--it was to destroy for ever the "dream -of his old age"--that he had been thus munificent towards this girl. -And there was no complaint or regret. He had told us it was time for -him to put away childish things. And this was the last word said--"My -lass, I would rather have seen you at Denny-mains." - -The Laird was exceedingly facetious at this breakfast-party, and his -nephew had a bad time of it. There were mysterious questions about -Messrs. Hughes, Barnes, and Barnes; as to whether consultations were -best held in stubble or in turnips; or whether No. 5 shot was the best -for bringing down briefs; and so forth. - -"Never mind, uncle," said the Youth good-naturedly. "I will send you -some partridges for the larder of the yacht." - -"You need not do anything of the kind," said the Laird; "before you are -in Bedfordshire the _White Dove_ will be many a mile away from the -course of luggage steamers." - -"Oh, are you ready to start, then, sir?" said his hostess. - -"This very meenute, if it pleases you," said he. - -She looked rather alarmed, but said nothing. In the meantime the -waggonette had come to the door. - -By and by there was a small party assembled on the steps to see the -Youth drive off. And now the time had come for him to make that speech -of thanks which his uncle had pointed out was distinctly due from him. -The Laird, indeed, regarded his departure with a critical air; and no -doubt waited to see how his nephew would acquit himself. - -Perhaps the Youth had forgotten. At all events, having bidden good-bye -to the others, he shook hands last of all with his hostess, and said -lightly-- - -"Thank you very much. I have enjoyed the whole thing tremendously." - -Then he jumped into the waggonette, and took off his cap as a parting -salute; and away he went. The Laird frowned. When he was a young man -that was not the way in which hospitality was acknowledged. - -Then Mary Avon turned from regarding the departing waggonette. - -"Are we to get ready to start?" said she. - -"What do you say, sir?" asks the hostess of the Laird. - -"I am at your service," he replies. - -And so it appeared to be arranged. But still Queen Titania looked -irresolute and uneasy. She did not at once set the whole house in an -uproar; or send down for the men; or begin herself to harry the garden. -She kept loitering about the door; pretending to look at the signs of -the weather. At last Mary said-- - -"Well, in any case, you will be more than an hour in having the things -carried down; so I will do a little bit more to that sketch in the -meantime." - -The moment she was gone, her hostess says in a hurried whisper to the -Laird-- - -"Will you come into the library, sir, for a moment?" - -He obediently followed her; and she shut the door. - -"Are we to start without Angus Sutherland?" she asked, without -circumlocution. - -"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said the wily Laird. - -Then she was forced to explain, which she did in a somewhat nervous -manner. - -"Mary has told me, sir, of your very, very great generosity to her. I -hope you will let me thank you too." - -"There is not another word to be said about it," he said simply. "I -found a small matter wrong in the world that I thought I could put -right; and I did it; and now we start fresh and straight again. That is -all." - -"But about Angus Sutherland," said she still more timidly. "You were -quite right in your conjectures--at least, I imagine so--indeed, I am -sure of it. And now, don't you think we should send for him?" - -"The other day, ma'am," said he slowly, "I informed ye that when I -considered my part done I would leave the matter in your hands entirely. -I had to ask some questions of the lass, no doubt, to make sure of my -ground; though I felt it was not a business fit for an old bachelor like -me to intermeddle wi'. I am now of opinion that it would be better, as -I say, to leave the matter in your hands entirely." - -The woman looked rather bewildered. - -"But what am I to do?" said she. "Mary will never allow me to send for -him--and I have not his address in any case----" - -The Laird took a telegram from his breast-pocket. - -"There it is," said he, "until the end of this week, at all events." - -She looked at it hesitatingly; it was from the office of the magazine -that Angus Sutherland edited; and was in reply to a question of the -Laird's. Then she lifted her eyes. - -"Do you think I might ask Mary herself?" - -"That is for a woman to decide," said he; and again she was thrown back -on her own resources. - -Well, this midge of a woman has some courage too. She began to reflect -on what the Laird had adventured, and done, for the sake of this girl; -and was she not prepared to risk something also? After all, if these -two had been fostering a vain delusion, it would be better to have it -destroyed at once. - -And so she went out into the garden, where she found Miss Avon again -seated at her easel. She went gently over to her; she had the telegram -in her hand. For a second or two she stood irresolute; then she boldly -walked across the lawn, and put her hand on the girl's shoulder. With -the other hand she held the telegram before Mary Avon's eyes. - -"Mary," said she, in a very low and gentle voice, "will you write to him -now and ask him to come back?" - -The girl dropped the brush she had been holding on to the grass, and her -face got very pale. - -"Oh, how could I do that?" said she, in an equally low--and -frightened--voice. - -"You sent him away." - -There was no answer. The elder woman waited; she only saw that Mary -Avon's fingers were working nervously with the edge of the palette. - -"Mary," said she at length, "am I right in imagining the cause of your -sending him away? May I write and explain, if you will not?" - -"Oh, how can you explain?" the girl said, almost piteously. "It is -better as it is. Did you not hear what the kindest friend I ever found -in the world had to say of me yesterday, about young people who were too -prudent, and were mercenary; and how he had no respect for young people -who thought too much about money----" - -"Mary, Mary!" the other said, "he was not speaking about you. You -mercenary! He was speaking about a young man who would throw over his -sweetheart for the sake of money. You mercenary! Well, let me appeal -to Angus! When I explain to him, and ask him what he thinks of you, I -will abide by his answer." - -"Well, I did not think of myself; it was for his sake I did it," said -the girl, in a somewhat broken voice; and tears began to steal down her -cheeks, and she held her head away. - -"Well then, I won't bother you anymore, Mary," said the other, in her -kindliest way. "I won't ask you to do anything, except to get ready to -get down to the yacht." - -"At once?" said the girl, instantly getting up, and drying her eyes. -She seemed greatly relieved by this intimation of an immediate start. - -"As soon as the men have the luggage taken down." - -"Oh, that will be very pleasant," said she, immediately beginning to put -away her colours. "What a fine breeze! I am sure I shall be ready in -fifteen minutes." - -Then the usual bustle began; messages flying up and down, and the gig -and dingay racing each other to the shore and back again. By twelve -o'clock everything had been got on board. Then the _White Dove_ gently -glided away from her moorings; we had started on our last and longest -voyage. - -It seemed innumerable ages since we had been in our sea-home. And that -first glance round the saloon--as our absent friend the Doctor had -remarked--called up a multitude of recollections, mostly converging to a -general sense of snugness, and remoteness, and good fellowship. The -Laird sank down into a corner of one of the couches, and said-- - -"Well, I think I could spend the rest of my days in this yacht. It -seems as if I had lived in it for many, many years." - -But Miss Avon would not let him remain below; it was a fine sailing day; -and very soon we were all on deck. A familiar scene?--this expanse of -blue sea, curling with white here and there; with a dark blue sky -overhead, and all around the grand panorama of mountains in their rich -September hues? The sea is never familiar. In its constant and moving -change, its secret and slumbering power, its connection with the great -unknown beyond the visible horizon, you never become familiar with the -sea. We may recognise the well-known landmarks as we steal away to the -north--the long promontory and white lighthouse of Lismore, the ruins of -Duart, the woods of Scallasdale, the glimpse into Loch Aline--and we may -use these things only to calculate our progress; but always around us is -the strange life, and motion, and infinitude of the sea, which never -becomes familiar. - -We had started with a light favourable wind, of the sort that we had -come to call a Mary-Avon-steering breeze; but after luncheon this died -away, and we lay icily for a long time opposite the dark green woods of -Fuinary. However, there was a wan and spectral look about the sunshine -of this afternoon, and there were some long, ragged shreds of cloud in -the southern heavens--just over the huge round shoulders of the Mull -mountains--that told us we were not likely to be harassed by any -protracted calms. And, in fact, occasional puffs and squalls came over -from the south which, if they did not send us on much farther, at least -kept everybody on the alert. - -And at length we got it. The gloom over the mountains had deepened, and -the streaks of sunlit sky that were visible here and there had a curious -coppery tinge about them. Then we heard a hissing in towards the shore, -and the darkening band on the sea spread rapidly out to us; then there -was a violent shaking of blocks and spars, and, as the _White Dove_ bent -to the squall, a most frightful clatter was heard below, showing that -some careless people had been about. Then away went the yacht like an -arrow! We cared little for the gusts of rain that came whipping across -from time to time. We would not even go down to see what damage had -been done in the cabins. John of Skye, with his savage hatred of the -long calms we had endured, refused to lower his gaff topsail. At last -he was "letting her have it." - -We spun along, with the water hissing away from our wake; but the squall -had not had time to raise anything of a sea, so there was but little -need for the women to duck their heads to the spray. Promontory after -promontory, bay after bay was passed, until far ahead of us, through the -driving mists of rain, we could make out the white shaft of Ru-na-Gaul -lighthouse. But here another condition of affairs confronted us. When -we turned her nose to the south, to beat in to Tobermory harbour, the -squall was coming tearing out of that cup among the hills with an -exceeding violence. When the spray sprang high at the bows, the flying -shreds of it that reached us bore an uncommon resemblance to the thong -of a whip. The topsail was got down, the mizen taken in, and then we -proceeded to fight our way into the harbour in a series of tacks that -seemed to last only a quarter of a second. What with the howling of the -wind, that blew back his orders in his face; and what with the wet -decks, that caused the men to stumble now and again; and what with the -number of vessels in the bay, that cut short his tacks at every turn, -Captain John of Skye had an exciting time of it. But we knew him of -old. He "put on" an extra tack, when there was no need for it, and -slipped though between a fishing-smack and a large schooner, merely for -the sake of "showing off." And then the _White Dove_ was allowed to go -up to the wind, and slowly slackened her pace, and the anchor went out -with a roar. We were probably within a yard of the precise spot where -we had last anchored in the Tobermory bay. - -It blew and rained hard all that evening, and we did not even think of -going on deck after dinner. We were quite content as we were. Somehow -a new and secret spirit of cheerfulness had got possession of certain -members of this party, without any ostensible cause. There was no -longer the depression that had prevailed about West Loch Tarbert. When -Mary Avon played bezique with the Laird, it was to a scarcely audible -accompaniment of "The Queen's Maries." - -Nor did the evening pass without an incident worthy of some brief -mention. There is, in the _White Dove_, a state-room which really acts -as a passage, during the day, between the saloon and the forecastle; and -when this state-room is not in use, Master Fred is in the habit of -converting it into a sort of pantry, seeing that it adjoins his galley. -Now, on this evening, when our shifty Friedrich d'or came in with -soda-water and such like things, he took occasion to say to the -Rear-Admiral of the Fleet on board-- - -"I beg your pardon, mem, but there is no one now in this state-room, and -will I use it for a pantry?" - -"You will do nothing of the kind, Fred," said she quite sharply. - - - - - *CHAPTER XI.* - - *A TOAST.* - - -"I am almost afraid of what I have done; but it is past recall now:" -this is the mysterious sentence one hears on climbing up the companion -next morning. It is Queen Titania and the Laird who are talking; but as -soon as a third person appears they become consciously and guiltily -silent. What does it matter? We have other work on hand than prying -into twopenny-halfpenny secrets. - -For we have resolved on starting away for the north in spite of this -fractious weather. A more unpromising-looking morning indeed for -setting out could not well be imagined--windy, and wet, and squally; the -driven green sea outside springing white where it meets the line of the -coast; Loch Sunart and its mountains hidden away altogether behind the -mists of rain; wan flashes of sunlight here and there only serving to -show how swiftly the clouds are flying. But the _White Dove_ has been -drying her wings all the summer; she can afford to face a shower now. -And while the men are hoisting the sail and getting the anchor hove -short, our two women-folk array themselves in tightly-shaped ulsters, -with hoods drawn over their heads; and the Laird appears in a waterproof -reaching to his heels; and even the skylights have their tarpaulins -thrown over. Dirty weather or no, we mean to start. - -There are two or three yachts in the bay, the last of the summer-fleet -all hastening away to the south. There is no movement on the decks of -any one of them. Here and there, however, in sheltered places--under a -bit of awning, or standing by the doors of deck-saloons--we can make out -huddled groups of people, who are regarding, with a pardonable -curiosity, the operations of John of Skye and his merry men. - -"They take us for maniacs," says Queen Titania from out of her hood, "to -be setting out for the north in such weather." - -And we were nearly affording those amiable spectators a pretty sight. -The wind coming in variable gusts, the sails failed to fill at the -proper moment, and the _White Dove_ drifted right on to the bows of a -great schooner, whose bowsprit loomed portentous overhead. There was a -wild stampede for boat-hooks and oars; and then with arms, and feet, and -poles--aided by the swarming crew of the schooner--we managed to clear -her with nothing more serious than an ominous grating along the gig. -And then the wind catching her, she gradually came under the control of -Captain John; and away we went for the north, beating right in the teeth -of the gusts that came tearing over from the mouth of Loch Sunart. - -"It's a bad wind, mem, for getting up to Isle Ornsay," says John of Skye -to the Admiral. "Ay, and the sea pretty coorse, too, when we get -outside Ardnamurchan." - -"Now, listen to me, John," she says severely, and with an air of -authority--as much authority, that is to say, as can be assumed by a -midge enclosed in an ulster. "I am not going to have any of that. I -know you of old. As soon as you get out of Tobermory, you immediately -discover that the wind is against our going north; and we turn round and -run away down to Iona and the Bull-hole. I will not go to the -Bull-hole. If I have to sail this yacht myself, night and day, I will -go to Isle Ornsay." - -"If ye please, mem," says John of Skye, grinning with great delight over -her facetiousness. "Oh, I will tek the yat to Isle Ornsay very well, if -the leddies not afraid of a little coorse sea. And you will not need to -sail the yat at all, mem. But I not afraid to let you sail the yat. -You will know about the sailing now shist as much as Mr. Sutherland." - -At the mention of this name, Queen Titania glanced at Mary Avon, -perceived she was not listening, and went nearer to John of Skye, and -said something to him in a lower voice. There was a quick look of -surprise and pleasure on the handsome, brown-bearded face. - -"Oh, I ferry glad of that, mem," said he. - -"Hush, John! Not a word to anybody," said she. - -By this time we had beat out of the harbour, and were now getting longer -tacks; so that, when the sheets were properly coiled, it was possible -for the Laird and Miss Avon to attempt a series of short promenades on -the wet decks. It was an uncertain and unstable performance, to be -sure; for the sea was tumultuous; but it served. - -"Mutual help--that's the thing," said the Laird to his companion, as -together they staggered along, or stood steady to confront a -particularly fierce gust of wind. "We are independent of the -world--this solitary vessel out in the waste of waters--but we are not -independent of each other. It just reminds me of the small burghs -outside Glasgow; we wish to be independent of the great ceety lying near -us; we prefer to have a separate existence; but we can help each other -for all that in a most unmistakeable way----" - -Here the Laird was interrupted by the calling out of Captain -John--"_Ready about!_" and he and his companion had to get out of the -way of the boom. Then they resumed their promenade, and he his -discourse. - -"Do ye think, for example," said this profound philosopher, "that any -one burgh would have been competent to decide on a large question like -the clauses of the Police Act that refer to cleansing and lighting?" - -"I am not sure," Miss Avon admitted. - -"No, no," said he confidently, "large questions should be considered in -common council--with every opportunity of free discussion. I do not much -like to speak about local matters, or of my own share in them, but I -must take credit for this, that it was myself recommended to the -Commissioners to summon a public meeting. It was so, and the meeting -was quite unanimous. It was Provost McKendrick, ye must understand, who -formally made the proposal that the consideration of those clauses -should be remitted to the clerks of the various burghs, who were to -report; but the suggestion was really mine--I make no scruple in -claiming it. And then, see the result! When the six clerks were -agreed, and sent in their report, look at the authority of such a -document! Who but an ass would make freevolous objections?" - -The Laird laughed aloud. - -"It was that crayture, Johnny Guthrie," said he, "as usual! I am not -sure that I have mentioned his name to ye before?" - -"Oh, yes, I think so, sir," remarked Miss Avon. - -"It was that crayture, Johnny Guthrie--in the face of the unanimous -report of the whole six clerks! Why, what could be more reasonable than -that the lighting of closes and common stairs should fall on the -landlords, but with power to recover from the tenants; while the -cleansing of back-courts--being a larger and more general -measure--should be the work of the commissioners and chargeable in the -police rates? It is a great sanitary work that benefits every one; why -should not all have a hand in paying for it?" - -Miss Avon was understood to assent; but the fact was that the small -portion of her face left uncovered by her hood had just then received an -unexpected bath of salt water; and she had to halt for a moment to get -out a handkerchief from some sub-ulsterian recess. - -"Well," continued the Laird, as they resumed their walk, "what does this -body Guthrie do but rise and propose that the landlords--mind ye, the -landlords alone--should be rated for the expense of cleaning the -back-courts! I declare there are some folk seem to think that a -landlord is made of nothing but money, and that it is everybody's -business to harry him, and worry him, and screw every farthing out of -him. If Johnny Guthrie had half a dozen lands of houses himself, what -would he say about the back-courts then?" - -This triumphant question settled the matter; and we haled the Laird -below for luncheon. Our last glance round showed us the Atlantic of a -silvery grey, and looking particularly squally; with here and there a -gleam of pale sunshine falling on the long headland of Ardnamurchan. - -There was evidently some profound secret about. - -"Well, ma'am, and where will we get to the night, do ye think?" said the -Laird, cheerfully, as he proceeded to carve a cold fowl. - -"It is of no consequence," said the other, with equal carelessness. -"You know we must idle away a few days somewhere." - -Idle away a few days?--and this _White Dove_ bent on a voyage to the far -north when the very last of the yachts were fleeing south! - -"I mean," said she hastily, in order to retrieve her blunder, "that -Captain John is not likely to go far away from the chance of a harbour -until he sees whether this is the beginning of the equinoctials or not." - -"The equinoctials?" said the Laird, anxiously. - -"They sometimes begin as early as this; but not often. However, there -will always be some place where we can run in to." - -The equinoctials, indeed! When we went on deck again we found not only -that those angry squalls had ceased, but that the wind had veered very -considerably in our favour, and we were now running and plunging past -Ardnamurchan Point. The rain had ceased too; the clouds had gathered -themselves up in heavy folds; and their reflected blackness lay over the -dark and heaving Atlantic plain. Well was it for these two women that -luncheon had been taken in time. What one of them had dubbed the -Ardnamurchan Wobble--which she declared to be as good a name for a waltz -as the Liverpool Lurch--had begun in good earnest; and the _White Dove_ -was dipping, and rolling, and springing in the most lively fashion. -There was not much chance for the Laird and Mary Avon to resume their -promenade; when one of the men came aft to relieve John of Skye at the -wheel, he had to watch his chance, and come clambering along by holding -on to the shrouds, the rail of the gig, and so forth. But Dr. -Sutherland's prescription had its effect. Despite the Ardnamurchan -Wobble and all its deeds, there was no ghostly and silent disappearance. - -And so we ploughed on our way during the afternoon, the Atlantic -appearing to grow darker and darker, as the clouds overhead seemed to -get banked up more thickly. The only cheerful bit of light in this -gloomy picture was a streak or two of sand at the foot of the sheer and -rocky cliffs north of Ardnamurchan Light; and those we were rapidly -leaving behind as the brisk breeze--with a kindness to which we were -wholly strangers--kept steadily creeping round to the south. - -The dark evening wore on, and we were getting well up towards Eigg, when -a strange thing became visible along the western horizon. - -First the heavy purple clouds showed a tinge of crimson, and then a sort -of yellow smoke appeared close down at the sea. This golden vapour -widened, cleared, until there was a broad belt of lemon-coloured sky all -along the edge of the world; and in this wonder of shining light -appeared the island of Rum--to all appearance as transparent as a bit of -the thinnest gelatine, and in colour a light purple rose. It was really -a most extraordinary sight. The vast bulk of this mountainous island, -including the sombre giants Haleval and Haskeval, seemed to have less -than the consistency of a cathedral window; it resembled more a pale, -rose-coloured cloud; and the splendour of it, and the glow of the golden -sky beyond, were all the more bewildering by reason of the gloom of the -overhanging clouds that lay across like a black bar. - -"Well!" said the Laird--and here he paused, for the amazement in his -face could not at once find fitting words. "That beats a'!" - -And it was a cheerful and friendly light too, that now came streaming -over to us from beyond the horizon-line. It touched the sails and the -varnished spars with a pleasant colour. It seemed to warm and dry the -air, and tempted the women to put aside their ulsters. Then began a -series of wild endeavours to achieve a walk on deck, interrupted every -second or two by some one or other being thrown against the boom, or -having to grasp at the shrouds in passing. But it resulted in exercise, -at all events; and meanwhile we were still making our way northward, -with the yellow star of Isle Ornsay lighthouse beginning to be visible -in the gathering dusk. - -That evening at dinner the secret came out. There cannot be the -slightest doubt that the disclosure of it had been carefully planned by -these two conspirators; and that they considered themselves amazingly -profound in giving to it a careless and improvised air. - -"I never sit down to dinner now, ma'am," observed the Laird, in a light -and graceful manner, "without a feeling that there is something wanting -in the saloon. The table is not symmetrical. That should occur to Miss -Mary's eye at once. One at the head, one my side, two yours; no, that -is not as symmetrical as it used to be." - -"Do you think I do not feel that too?" says his hostess. "And that is -not the only time at which I wish that Angus were back with us." - -No one had a word to say for poor Howard Smith, who used to sit at the -foot of the table, in a meek and helpful capacity. No one thought of -summoning him back to make the arrangement symmetrical. Perhaps he was -being consoled by Messrs. Hughes, Barnes, and Barnes. - -"And the longer the nights are growing, I get to miss him more and -more," she says, with a beautiful pathos in her look. "He was always so -full of activity and cheerfulness--the way he enjoyed life on board the -yacht was quite infectious; and then his constant plans and suggestions. -And how he looked forward to this long trip! though, to be sure, he -struggled hard against the temptation. I know the least thing would -have turned the scale, Italy or no Italy." - -"Why, ma'am," says the Laird, laughing prodigiously, "I should not -wonder, if you sent him a message at this minute, to find him coming -along post-haste and joining us, after all. What is Eetaly? I have -been in Eetaly myself. Ye might live there a hundred years, and never -see anything so fine in colour as that sunset we saw this very evening. -And if it is business he is after, bless me! cannot a young man be a -young man sometimes, and have the courage to do something imprudent? -Come now, write to him at once! I will take the responsibility myself." - -"To tell you the truth, sir," said the other timidly--but she pretends -she is very anxious about the safety of a certain distant wine-glass--"I -took a sudden notion into my head yesterday morning, and sent him a -message." - -"Dear me!" he cries. The hypocrite! - -And Mary Avon all the while sits mute, dismayed, not daring to turn her -face to the light. And the small white hand that holds the knife: why -does it tremble so? - -"The fact is," says Queen Titania carelessly, just as if she were -reading a bit out of a newspaper, "I sent him a telegram, to save time. -And I thought it would be more impressive if I made it a sort of -round-robin, don't you know--as far as that can be done on a -telegraph-form--and I said that each and all of us demanded his instant -return, and that we should wait about Isle Ornsay or Loch Hourn until he -joined us. So you see, sir, we may have to try your patience for a day -or two." - -"Ye may try it, but ye will not find it wanting," said the Laird, with -serious courtesy. "I do not care how long I wait for the young man, so -long as I am in such pleasant society. Ye forget, ma'am, what life one -is obliged to live at Denny-mains, with public affairs worrying one from -the morning till the night. Patience? I have plenty of patience. But -all the same I would like to see the young man here. I have a great -respect for him, though I consider that some of his views may not be -quite sound--that will mend--that will mend; and now, my good friends, I -will take leave to propose a toast to ye." - -We knew the Laird's old-fashioned ways, and had grown to humour them. -There was a pretence of solemnly filling glasses. - -"I am going," said the Laird, in a formal manner, "to propose to ye the -quick and safe return of a friend. May all good fortune attend him on -his way, and may happiness await him at the end of his journey!" - -There was no dissentient; but there was one small white hand somewhat -unsteady, as the girl, abashed and trembling and silent, touched the -glass with her lips. - - - - - *CHAPTER XII.* - - *EXPECTATIONS.* - - -It was a fine piece of acting. These two continued to talk about the -coming of our young Doctor as if it were the most simple and ordinary -affair possible. All its bearings were discussed openly, to give you to -understand that Mary Avon had nothing in the world to do with it. It -was entirely a practical arrangement for the saving of time. By running -across to Paris he would jump over the interval between our leaving West -Loch Tarbert and this present setting-out for the north. Mary Avon was -asked about this point and that point: there was no reason why she -should not talk about Angus Sutherland just like any other. - -And, indeed, there was little call for any pale apprehension on the face -of the girl, or for any quick look round when a sudden sound was heard. -It was not possible for Angus to be anywhere in our neighbourhood as -yet. When we went on deck next morning, we found that we had been idly -drifting about all night, and that we were now far away from any land. -The morning sun was shining on the dark green woods of Armadale, and on -the little white sharp point of Isle Ornsay lighthouse, and on the vast -heather-purpled hills in the north; while over there the mountains above -Loch Hourn were steeped in a soft mysterious shadow. And then, by and -by, after breakfast, some light puffs of westerly wind began to ruffle -the glassy surface of the sea; and the _White Dove_ almost insensibly -drew nearer and nearer to the entrance of that winding loch that -disappeared away within the dusky shadows of those overhanging hills. -Late on as it was in the autumn, the sun was hot on the sails and the -deck; and these cool breezes were welcome in a double sense. - -We saw nothing of the accustomed gloom of Loch Hourn. The sheer sides -of the great mountains were mostly in shadow, it is true; but then the -ridges and plateaus were burning in the sunlight; and the waters of the -loch around us were blue, and lapping, and cheerful. We knew only that -the place was vast, and still, and silent; we could make out scarcely -any sign of habitation. - -Then, as the _White Dove_ still glided on her way, we opened out a -little indentation of the land behind an island; and there, nestled at -the foot of the hill, we descried a small fishing-village. The -cottages, the nets drying on the poles, the tiny patches of cultivated -ground behind, all seemed quite toy-like against the giant and -overhanging bulk of the hills. But again we drew away from Camus -Ban--that is, the White Bay--and got further and further into the -solitudes of the mountains, and away from any traces of human life. -When about mid-day we came to anchor, we found ourselves in a sort of -cup within the hills, apparently shut off from all the outer world, and -in a stillness so intense that the distant whistle of a curlew was quite -startling. A breath of wind that blew over from the shore brought us a -scent of honeysuckle. - -At luncheon we found to our amazement that a fifth seat had been placed -at table, and that plates, glasses, and what not had been laid for a -guest. A guest in these wilds?--there was not much chance of such a -thing, unless the King of the Seals or the Queen of the Mermaids were to -come on board. - -But when we had taken our seats, and were still regarding the vacant -chair with some curiosity, the Laird's hostess was pleased to explain. -She said to him, with a shy smile, - -"I have not forgotten what you said; and I quite agree with you that it -balances the table better." - -"But not an empty chair," said the Laird, severely; perhaps thinking it -was an evil omen. - -"You know the German song," said she, "and how the last remaining of the -comrades filled the glasses with wine, and how the ghosts rattled the -glasses. Would you kindly fill that glass, sir?" - -She passed the decanter. - -"I will not, begging your pardon," said the Laird, sternly, for he did -not approve of these superstitions. And forthwith he took the deck -chair and doubled it up, and threw it on the couch. "We want the young -man Sutherland here, and not any ghost. I doubt not but that he has -reached London by now." - -After that a dead silence. Were there any calculations about time; or -were we wondering whether, amid the roar and whirl and moving life of -the great city, he was thinking of the small floating-home far away, -amid the solitude of the seas and the hills? The deck-chair was put -aside, it is true, for the Laird shrank from superstition; but the empty -glass, and the plates and knives, and so forth, remained; and they -seemed to say that our expected guest was drawing nearer and nearer. - -"Well, John," said Queen Titania, getting on deck again, and looking -round, "I think we have got into Fairyland at last." - -John of Skye did not seem quite to understand, for his answer was-- - -"Oh, yes, mem, it is a fearful place for squahls." - -"For squalls!" said she. - -No wonder she was surprised. The sea around us was so smooth that the -only motion visible on it was caused by an exhausted wasp that had -fallen on the glassy surface and was making a series of small ripples in -trying to get free again. And then, could anything be more soft and -beautiful than the scene around us--the great mountains clad to the -summit with the light foliage of the birch; silver waterfalls that made -a vague murmur in the air; an island right ahead with picturesquely -wooded rocks; an absolutely cloudless sky above--altogether a wonder of -sunlight and fair colours? Squalls? The strange thing was, not that we -had ventured into a region of unruly winds, but that we had got enough -wind to bring us in at all. There was now not even enough to bring us -the scent of the honeysuckle from the shore. - -In the afternoon we set out on an expedition, nominally after wild-duck, -but in reality in exploration of the upper reaches of the loch. We found -a narrow channel between the island and the mainland, and penetrated -into the calm and silent waters of Loch Hourn Beg. And still less did -this offshoot of the larger loch accord with that gloomy name--the Lake -of Hell. Even where the mountains were bare and forbidding, the warm -evening light touched the granite with a soft rose-grey; and reflections -of this beautiful colour were here and there visible amid the clear blue -of the water. We followed the windings of the narrow and tortuous loch; -but found no wild-duck at all. Here and there a seal stared at us as we -passed. Then we found a crofter's cottage, and landed, to the -consternation of one or two handsome wild-eyed children. A purchase of -eggs ensued, after much voluble Gaelic. We returned to the yacht. - -That evening, as we sate on deck, watching the first stars beginning to -tremble in the blue, some one called attention to a singular light that -was beginning to appear along the summits of the mountains just over -us--a silvery-grey light that showed us the soft foliage of the birches, -while below the steep slopes grew more sombre as the night fell. And -then we guessed that the moon was somewhere on the other side of the -loch, as yet hidden from us by those black crags that pierced into the -calm blue vault of the sky. This the Lake of Hell, indeed! By and by -we saw the silver rim appear above the black line of the hills; and a -pale glory was presently shining around us, particularly noticeable -along the varnished spars. As the white moon sailed up, this solitary -cup in the mountains was filled with the clear radiance, and the silence -seemed to increase. We could hear more distinctly than ever the various -waterfalls. The two women were walking up and down the deck; and each -time that Mary Avon turned her profile to the light the dark eyebrows -and dark eyelashes seemed darker than ever against the pale, sensitive, -sweet face. - -But after a while she gently disengaged herself from her friend, and -came and sate down by the Laird: quite mutely, and waiting for him to -speak. It is not to be supposed that she had been in any way more -demonstrative towards him since his great act of kindness; or that there -was any need for him to have purchased her affection. That was of older -date. Perhaps, if the truth were told, she was rather less -demonstrative now; for we had all discovered that the Laird had a -nervous horror of anything that seemed to imply a recognition of what he -had done. It was merely, he had told us, a certain wrong thing he had -put right: there was no more to be said about it. - -However, her coming and sitting down by him was no unusual circumstance; -and she meekly left him his own choice, to speak to her or not as he -pleased. And he did speak--after a time. - -"I was thinking," said he, "what a strange feeling ye get in living on -board a yacht in these wilds: it is just as if ye were the only -craytures in the world. Would ye not think, now, that the moon there -belonged to this circle of hills, and could not be seen by any one -outside it? It looks as if it were coming close to the topmast; how can -ye believe that it is shining over Trafalgar Square in London?" - -"It seems very close to us on so clear a night," says Mary Avon. - -"And in a short time now," continued the Laird, "this little world of -ours--I mean the little company on board the yacht--must be dashed into -fragments, as it were; and ye will be away in London; and I will be at -Denny-mains: and who knows whether we may ever see each other again? We -must not grumble. It is the fate of the best friends. But there is one -grand consolation--think what a consolation it must have been to many of -the poor people who were driven away from these Highlands--to Canada, -and Australia, and elsewhere--that after all the partings and sorrows of -this world there is the great meeting-place at last. I would just ask -this favour frae ye, my lass, that when ye go back to London, ye would -get a book of our old Scotch psalm-tunes, and learn the tune that is -called _Comfort_. It begins 'Take comfort, Christians, when your -friends.' It is a grand tune that: I would like ye to learn it." - -"Oh, certainly I will," said the girl. - -"And I have been thinking," continued the Laird, "that I would get Tom -Galbraith to make ye a bit sketch of Denny-mains, that ye might hang up -in London, if ye were so minded. It would show ye what the place was -like; and after some years ye might begin to believe that ye really had -been there, and that ye were familiar with it, as the home of an old -friend o' yours." - -"But I hope to see Denny-mains for myself, sir," said she, with some -surprise. - -A quick, strange look appeared for a moment on the old Laird's face. -But presently he said-- - -"No, no, lass, ye will have other interest and other duties. That is -but proper and natural. How would the world get on at all if we were -not to be dragged here and there by diverse occupations?" - -Then the girl spoke, proudly and bravely-- - -"And if I have any duties in the world, I think I know to whom I owe -them. And it is not a duty at all, but a great pleasure; and you -promised me, sir, that I was to see Denny-mains; and I wish to pay you a -long, long, long visit." - -"A long, long, long visit?" said the Laird cheerfully. "No, no, lass. -I just couldna be bothered with ye. Ye would be in my way. What -interest could ye take in our parish meetings, and the church _soirees_, -and the like? No, no. But if ye like to pay me a short, short, short -visit--at your own convenience--at your own convenience, mind--I will -get Tom Galbraith through from Edinburgh, and I will get out some of the -younger Glasgowmen; and if we do not, you and me, show them something in -the way of landscape-sketching, that will just frighten them out of -their very wits, why then I will give ye leave to say that my name is -not Mary Avon." - -He rose then and took her hand, and began to walk with her up and down -the moonlit deck. We heard something about the Haughs o' Cromdale. The -Laird was obviously not ill-pleased that she had boldly claimed that -promised visit to Denny-mains. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIII.* - - *"YE ARE WELCOME, GLENOGIE!"* - - -When, after nearly three months of glowing summer weather, the heavens -begin to look as if they meditated revenge; when, in a dead calm, a -darkening gloom appears behind the further hills, and slight puffs of -wind, come down vertically, spreading themselves out on the glassy -water; when the air is sultry, and an occasional low rumble is heard, -and the sun looks white; then the reader of these pages may thank his -stars that he is not in Loch Hourn. And yet it was not altogether our -fault that we were nearly caught in this dangerous cup among the hills. -We had lain in these silent and beautiful waters for two or three days, -partly because of the exceeding loveliness of the place, partly because -we had to allow Angus time to get up to Isle Ornsay, but chiefly because -we had not the option of leaving. To get through the narrow and shallow -channel by which we had entered we wanted both wind and tide in our -favour; and there was scarcely a breath of air during the long, -peaceful, shining days. At length, when our sovereign mistress made -sure that the young Doctor must be waiting for us at Isle Ornsay, she -informed Captain John that he must get us out of this place somehow. - -"'Deed, I not sorry at all," said John of Skye, who had never ceased to -represent to us, that, in the event of bad weather coming on, we should -find ourselves in the lion's jaws. - -Well, on the afternoon of the third day, it became very obvious that -something serious was about to happen. Clouds began to bank up behind -the mountains that overhung the upper reaches of the loch, and an -intense purple gloom gradually spread along those sombre hills--all the -more intense that the little island in front of us, crossing the loch, -burned in the sunlight a vivid strip of green. Then little puffs of wind -fell here and there on the blue water, and broadened out in a silvery -grey. We noticed that all the men were on deck. - -As the strange darkness of the loch increased, as these vast mountains -overhanging the inner cup of the loch grew more and more awful in the -gloom, we began to understand why the Celtic imagination had called this -place the Lake of Hell. Captain John kept walking up and down somewhat -anxiously, and occasionally looking at his watch. The question was -whether we should get enough wind to take us through the narrows before -the tide turned. In the meantime mainsail and jib were set, and the -anchor hove short. - -At last the welcome flapping and creaking and rattling of blocks! What -although this brisk breeze came dead in our teeth? John of Skye, as he -called all hands to the windlass, crave us to understand that he would -rather beat through the neck of a bottle than lie in Loch Hourn that -night. - -And it was an exciting piece of business when we got further down the -loch, and approached this narrow passage. On the one side sharp and -sheer rocks; on the other shallow banks that shone through the water; -behind us the awful gloom of gathering thunder; ahead of us a breeze -that came tearing down from the hills in the most puzzling and varying -squalls. With a steady wind it would have been bad enough to beat -through those narrows; but this wind kept shifting about anyhow. Sharp -was the word indeed. It was a question of seconds as we sheered away -from the rocks on the one side, or from the shoals on the other. And -then, amidst it all, a sudden cry from the women-- - -"John! John!" - -John of Skye knows his business too well to attend to the squealing of -women. - -"Ready about!" he roars; and all hands are at the sheets, and even -Master Fred is leaning over the bows, to watch the shallowness of the -water. - -"John, John!" the women cry. - -"Haul up the main tack, Hector! Ay, that'll do. Ready about, boys!" - -But this starboard tack is a little bit longer, and John manages to cast -an impatient glance behind him. The sailor's eye in an instant detects -that distant object. What is it? Why, surely some one in the stern of -a rowing-boat, standing up and violently waving a white handkerchief, -and two men pulling like mad creatures. - -"John, John! Don't you see it is Angus Sutherland!" cries the older -woman pitifully. - -By this time we are going bang on to a sandbank; and the men, standing -by the sheets, are amazed that the skipper does not put his helm down. -Instead of that--and all this happens in an instant--he eases the helm -up, the bows of the yacht fall away from the wind, and just clear the -bank. Hector of Moidart jumps to the mainsheet and slacks it out, and -then, behold! the _White Dove_ is running free, and there is a sudden -silence on board. - -"Why, he must have come over from the Caledonian Canal!" says Queen -Titania, in great excitement. "Oh, how glad I am!" - -But John of Skye takes advantage of this breathing space to have another -glance at his watch. - -"We'll maybe beat the tide yet," he says confidently. - -And who is this who comes joyously clambering up, and hauls his -portmanteau after him, and throws a couple of half-crowns into the -bottom of the black boat? - -"Oh, Angus!" his hostess cries to him, "you will shake hands with us all -afterwards. We are in a dreadful strait. Never mind us--help John if -you can." - -Meanwhile Captain John has again put the nose of the _White Dove_ at -these perilous narrows; and the young Doctor--perhaps glad enough to -escape embarrassment among all this clamour--has thrown his coat off to -help; and the men have got plenty of anchor-chain on deck, to let go the -anchor if necessary; and then again begins that manoeuvring between the -shallows and the rocks. What is this new sense of completeness--of -added life--of briskness and gladness? Why do the men seem more alert? -and why this cheeriness in Captain John's shouted commands? The women -are no longer afraid of either banks or shoals; they rather enjoy the -danger; when John seems determined to run the yacht through a mass of -conglomerate, they know that with the precision of clock-work she will -be off on the other tack; and they are laughing at these narrow escapes. -Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that only one of them laughs. -Mary Avon is somewhat silent, and she holds her friend's hand tight. - -Tide or no tide, we get through the narrow channel at last; and every -one breathes more freely when we are in the open. But we are still far -from being out of Loch Hourn; and now the mountains in the south, -too--one of them apparently an extinct volcano--have grown black as -night; and the wind that comes down from them in jerks and squalls -threatens to plunge our bulwarks under water. How the _White Dove_ flees -away from this gathering gloom! Once or twice we hear behind us a roar, -and turning we can see a specially heavy squall tearing across the loch; -but here with us the wind continues to keep a little more steady, and we -go bowling along at a whirling pace. Angus Sutherland comes aft, puts -on his coat, and makes his formal entry into our society. - -"You have just got out in time," says he, laughing somewhat nervously, -to his hostess. "There will be a wild night in Loch Hourn to-night." - -"And the beautiful calm we have had in there!" she says. "We were -beginning to think that Loch Hourn was Fairyland." - -"Look!" he said. - -And indeed the spectacle behind us was of a nature to make us thankful -that we had slipped out of the lion's jaws. The waters of the loch were -being torn into spindrift by the squalls; and the black clouds overhead -were being dragged into shreds as if by invisible hands; and in the -hollows below appeared a darkness as if night had come on prematurely. -And still the _White Dove_ flew and flew, as if she knew of the danger -behind her; and by and by we were plunging and racing across the Sound -of Sleat. We had seen the last of Loch Hourn. - -The clear golden ray of Isle Ornsay lighthouse was shining through the -dusk as we made in for the sheltered harbour. We had ran the dozen -miles or so in a little over the hour; and now dinner-time had arrived; -and we were not sorry to be in comparatively smooth water. The men were -sent ashore with some telegram--the sending off of which was the main -object of our running in here; and then Master Fred's bell summoned us -below from the wild and windy night. - -How rich and warm and cheerful was this friendly glow of the candles, -and how compact the table seemed now, with the vacant space filled at -last! And every one appeared to be talking hard, in order to show that -Angus Sutherland's return was a quite ordinary and familiar thing; and -the Laird was making his jokes; and the young Doctor telling his hostess -how he had been sending telegrams here and there until he had learned of -the _White Dove_ having been seen going in to Loch Hourn. Even Miss -Avon, though she said but little, shared in this general excitement and -pleasure. We could hear her soft laughter from time to time. But her -eyes were kept away from the corner where Angus Sutherland sate. - -"Well, you _are_ lucky people," said he. "If you had missed getting out -of that hole by half an hour, you might have been shut up in it a -fortnight. I believe a regular gale from the south has begun." - -"It is you who have brought it then," said his hostess. "You are the -stormy petrel. And you did your best to make us miss the tide." - -"I think we shall have some sailing now," said he, rubbing his hands in -great delight--he pretends to be thinking only of the yacht. "John talks -of going on to-night, so as to slip through the Kyle Rhea narrows with -the first of the flood-tide in the morning." - -"Going out to-night!" she exclaimed. "Is it you who have put that -madness into his head? It must be pitch dark already. And a gale -blowing!" - -"Oh, no!" he said, laughing. "There is not much of a gale. And it -cannot be very dark with the moon behind the clouds." - -Here a noise above told us the men had come back from the small village. -They brought a telegram too; but it was of no consequence. -Presently--in fact, as soon as he decently could--Angus left the -dinner-table, and went on deck. He had scarcely dared to glance at the -pale sensitive face opposite him. - -By and by Queen Titania said, solemnly: - -"Listen!" - -There was no doubt about it; the men were weighing anchor. - -"That madman," said she, "has persuaded Captain John to go to sea -again--at this time of night!" - -"It was Captain John's own wish. He wishes to catch the tide in the -morning," observed Miss Avon, with her eyes cast down. - -"That's right, my lass," said the Laird. "Speak up for them who are -absent. But, indeed, I think I will go on deck myself now, to see -what's going on." - -We all went on deck, and there and then unanimously passed a vote of -approval on Captain John's proceedings, for the wind had moderated very -considerably; and there was a pale suffused light telling of the moon -being somewhere behind the fleecy clouds in the south-east. With much -content we perceived that the _White Dove_ was already moving out of the -dark little harbour. We heard the rush of the sea outside without much -concern. - -It was a pleasant sailing night after all. When we had stolen by the -glare of the solitary lighthouse, and got into the open, we found there -was no very heavy sea running, while there was a steady serviceable -breeze from the south. There was moonlight abroad too, though the moon -was mostly invisible behind the thin drifting clouds. The women, -wrapped up, sate hand-in-hand, and chatted to each other; the Doctor was -at the tiller; the Laird was taking an occasional turn up and down, -sometimes pausing to challenge general attention by some profound -remark. - -And very soon we began to perceive that Angus Sutherland had by some -inscrutable means got into the Laird's good graces in a most marked -degree. Denny-mains, on this particular night, as we sailed away -northward, was quite complimentary about the march of modern science, -and the service done to humanity by scientific men. He had not even an -ill word for the _Vestiges of Creation_. He went the length of saying -that he was not scholar enough to deny that there might be various ways -of interpreting the terms of the Mosaic chronology; and expressed a -great interest in the terribly remote people who must have lived in the -lake-dwellings. - -"Oh, don't you believe that!" said our steersman good-naturedly. "The -scientifics are only humbugging the public about those lake-dwellings. -They were only the bath-houses and wash-houses of a comparatively modern -and civilised race, just as you see them now on the Lake of a Thousand -Islands, and at the mouths of the Amazon, and even on the Rhine. Surely -you know the bath-houses built on piles on the Rhine?" - -"Dear me!" said the Laird, "that is extremely interesting. It is a -novel view--a most novel view. But then the remains--what of the -remains? The earthen cups and platters: they must have belonged to a -very preemitive race?" - -"Not a bit," said the profound scientific authority, with a laugh. -"They were the things the children amused themselves with, when their -nurses took them down there to be out of the heat and the dust. They -were a very advanced race indeed. Even the children could make earthen -cups and saucers, while the children now-a-days can only make mud-pies." - -"Don't believe him, sir!" their hostess called out; "he is only making a -fool of us all." - -"Ay, but there's something in it--there's something in it," said the -Laird seriously; and he took a step or two up and down the deck, in deep -meditation. "There's something in it. It's plausible. If it is not -sound, it is an argument. It would be a good stick to break over an -ignorant man's head." - -Suddenly the Laird began to laugh aloud. - -"Bless me," said he, "if I could only inveigle Johnny Guthrie into an -argument about that! I would give it him! I would give it him!" - -This was a shocking revelation. What had come over the Laird's -conscience that he actually proposed to inveigle a poor man into a -controversy and then to hit him over the head with a sophistical -argument? We could not have believed it. And here he was laughing and -chuckling to himself over that shameful scheme. - -Our attention, however, was at this moment suddenly drawn away from -moral questions. The rapidly driving clouds just over the wild mountains -of Loch Hourn parted, and the moon glared out on the tumbling waves. -But what a curious moon it was!--pale and watery, with a white halo -around it, and with another faintly-coloured halo outside that again -whenever the slight and vapoury clouds crossed. John of Skye came aft. - -"I not like the look of that moon," said John of Skye to the Doctor, but -in an undertone, so that the women should not hear. - -"Nor I either," said the other, in an equally low voice. "Do you think -we are going to have the equinoctials, John?" - -"Oh no, not yet. It is not the time for the equinoctials yet." - -And as we crept on through the night, now and again from amid the wild -and stormy clouds above Loch Hourn the wan moon still shone out; and -then we saw something of the silent shores we were passing, and of the -awful mountains overhead, stretching far into the darkness of the skies. -Then preparations were made for coming to anchor; and by and by the -_White Dove_ was brought round to the wind. We were in a bay--if bay it -could be called--just south of Kyle Rhea narrows. There was nothing -visible along the pale moonlit shore. - -"This is a very open place to anchor in, John," our young Doctor -ventured to remark. - -"But it is a good holding-ground; and we will be away early in the -morning whatever." - -And so, when the anchor was swung out, and quiet restored over the -vessel, we proceeded to get below. There were a great many things to be -handed down; and a careful search had to be made that nothing was -forgotten--we did not want to find soaked shawls or books lying on the -deck in the morning. But at length all this was settled too, and we -were assembled once more in the saloon. - -We were assembled--all but two. - -"Where is Miss Mary?" said the Laird cheerfully: he was always the first -to miss his companion. - -"Perhaps she is in her cabin," said his hostess somewhat nervously. - -"And your young Doctor--why does he not come down and have his glass of -toddy like a man?" said the Laird, getting his own tumbler. "The young -men now-a-days are just as frightened as children. What with their -chemistry, and their tubes, and their percentages of alcohol: there was -none of that nonsense when I was a young man. People took what they -liked, so long as it agreed with them; and will anybody tell me there is -any harm in a glass of good Scotch whisky?" - -She does not answer; she looks somewhat preoccupied and anxious. - -"Ay, ay," continues the Laird, reaching over for the sugar; "if people -would only stop there, there is nothing in the world makes such an -excellent night-cap as a single glass of good Scotch whisky. Now, -ma'am, I will just beg you to try half a glass of my brewing." - -She pays no attention to him. For first of all she now hears a light -step on the companion-way, and then the door of the ladies' cabin is -opened, and shut again. Then a heavy step on the companion-way, and Dr. -Sutherland comes into the saloon. There is a strange look on his -face--not of dejection; but he tries to be very reticent and modest, and -is inordinately eager in handing a knife to the Laird for the cutting of -a lemon. - -"Where is Mary, Angus?" said his hostess, looking at him. - -"She has gone into your cabin," said he, looking up with a sort of -wistful appeal in his eyes. As plainly as possible they said, "Won't -you go to her?" - -The unspoken request was instantly answered; she got up and quietly left -the saloon. - -"Come, lad," said the Laird. "Are ye afraid to try a glass of Scotch -whisky? You chemical men know too much: that is not wholesome; and you -a Scotchman too--take a glass, man!" - -"Twelve, if you like," said the Doctor, laughing; "but one will do for -my purpose. I'm going to follow your example, sir; I am going to propose -a toast. It is a good old custom." - -This was a proposal after the Laird's own heart. He insisted on the -women being summoned; and they came. He took no notice that Mary Avon -was rose-red, and downcast of face; and that the elder woman held her -hand tightly, and had obviously been crying a little bit--not tears of -sorrow. When they were seated, he handed each a glass. Then he called -for silence, waiting to hear our Doctor make a proper and courtly speech -about his hostess, or about the _White Dove_, or John of Skye, or -anything. - -But what must have been the Laird's surprise when he found that it was -his own health that was being proposed! And that not in the manner of -the formal oratory that the Laird admired, but in a very simple and -straightforward speech, that had just a touch of personal and earnest -feeling in it. For the young Doctor spoke of the long days and nights -we had spent together, far away from human ken; and how intimately -associated people became on board ship; and how thoroughly one could -learn to know and love a particular character through being brought into -such close relationship. And he said that friendships thus formed in a -week or a month might last for a lifetime. And he could not say much, -before the very face of the Laird, about all those qualities which had -gained for him something more than our esteem--qualities especially -valuable on board ship--good humour, patience, courtesy, -light-heartedness---- - -"Bless me," cried the Laird, interrupting the speaker in defiance of all -the laws that govern public oratory, "I maun stop this--I maun stop -this! Are ye all come together to make fun of me--eh? Have a -care--have a care!" - -He looked round threateningly; and his eye lighted with a darker warning -on Mary Avon. - -"That lass, too," said he; "and I thought her a friend of mine; and she -has come to make a fool of me like the rest! And so ye want to make me -the Homesh o' this boat? Well, I may be a foolish old man; but my eyes -are open. I know what is going on. Come here, my lass, until I tell ye -something." - -Mary Avon went and took the seat next him; and he put his hand gently on -her shoulder. - -"Young people will have their laugh and their joke," said he. - -"It was no joke at all!" said she warmly. - -"Whisht, now. I say young people will have their laugh and their joke -at a foolish old man; and who is to prevent them? Not me. But I'll tell -ye what: ye may have your sport of me, on one condition." - -He patted her once or twice on the shoulder, just as if she was a child. - -"And the condition is this, my lass--that ye have the wedding at -Denny-mains." - - - - - *CHAPTER XIV.* - - *THE EQUINOCTIALS AT LAST.* - - -There was no dreaming of weddings at Denny-mains, or elsewhere, for some -of us that night. It had been blowing pretty hard when we turned in; -but towards two or three o'clock the wind increased to half a gale, -while heavy showers kept rattling along the decks. Then there were other -sounds. One of the men was heard to clamber up the iron ladder of the -forecastle; and as soon as he had put his head out, his contented -exclamation was, "Oh, ferry well; go on!" Then he came below and roused -his companions. Presently there was a loud commotion on deck. This was -enough for our Doctor. One could hear him rapidly dressing in his -little state-room--then staggering through the saloon, for the wind was -knocking about the _White Dove_ considerably--then groping his way up -the dark companion. For some time there was a fine turmoil going on -above. Another anchor was thrown out. The gig and dingay were brought -in on deck. All the skylights were fastened down, and the tarpaulins -put over. Then a woman's voice-- - -"Angus! Angus!" - -The Doctor came tumbling down the companion; by this time we had got a -candle lit in the saloon. - -"What is it?" was heard from the partly opened door of the ladies' -cabin. - -"Nothing at all. A bit of a breeze has sprung up." - -"Mary says you must stay below. Never mind what it is. You are not to -go on deck again." - -"Very well." - -He came into the saloon--all wet and dripping, but exceedingly pleased -to have been thus thought of--and then he said in a tragic whisper: - -"We are in for it at last." - -"The equinoctials?" - -"Yes." - -So we turned in again, leaving the _White Dove_ to haul and strain at -her cables all through the night--swaying, pitching, groaning, creaking, -as if she would throw herself free of her anchors altogether, and sweep -away over to Glenelg. - -Then, in the early morning, the gale had apparently increased. While -the women-folk remained in their cabin, the others of us adventured up -the companion-way, and had a look out. It was not a cheerful sight. -All around the green sea was being torn along by the heavy wind; the -white crests of the waves being whirled up in smoke; the surge springing -high on the rocks over by Glenelg; the sky almost black overhead; the -mountains that ought to have been quite near us invisible behind the -flying mists of the rain. Then how the wind howled! Ordinarily the -sound was a low, moaning bass--even lower than the sound of the waves; -but then again it would increase and rise into a shrill whistle, mostly -heard, one would have said, from about the standing rigging and the -crosstrees. But our observation of these phenomena was brief, -intermittent, and somewhat ignominious. We had to huddle in the -companion-way like Jacks-in-the-box; for the incautiously protruded head -was liable to be hit by a blast of rain that came along like a charge of -No. 6 shot. Then we tumbled below for breakfast, and the scared -women-folk made their appearance. - -"The equinoctials, Angus?" said Queen Titania, with some solemnity of -face. - -"Oh, I suppose so," said he cheerfully. - -"Well, I have been through them two or three times before," said she, -"but never in an exposed place like this." - -"We shall fight through it first-rate," said he--and you should have -seen Mary Avon's eyes; she was clearly convinced that fifteen -equinoctial gales could not do us the slightest harm so long as this -young Doctor was on board. "It is a fine stroke of luck that the gale -is from the south-west. If it had come on from the east, we should have -been in a bad way. As it is, there is not a rock between here and the -opposite shore at Glenelg, and even if we drag our anchors, we shall -catch up somewhere at the other side." - -"I hope we shall not have to trust to that," says Queen Titania, who in -her time has seen something of the results of vessels dragging their -anchors. - -As the day wore on, the fury of the gale still increased: the wind -moaning and whistling by turns, the yacht straining at her cables, and -rolling and heaving about. Despite the tender entreaties of the women, -Dr. Angus would go on deck again; for now Captain John had resolved on -lowering the topmast, and also on getting the boom and mainsail from -their crutch down on to the deck. Being above in this weather was far -from pleasant. The showers occasionally took the form of hail; and so -fiercely were the pellets driven by the wind that they stung where they -hit the face. And the outlook around was dismal enough--the green sea -and its whirling spindrift; the heavy waves breaking all along the -Glenelg shores; the writhing of the gloomy sky. We had a companion, by -the way, in this exposed place--a great black schooner that heavily -rolled and pitched as she strained at her two anchors. The skipper of -her did not leave her bows for a moment the whole day, watching for the -first symptom of dragging. - -Then that night. As the darkness came over, the wind increased in -shrillness until it seemed to tear with a scream through the rigging; -and though we were fortunately under the lee of the Skye hills, we could -hear the water smashing on the bows of the yacht. As night fell that -shrill whistling and those recurrent shocks grew in violence, until we -began to wonder how long the cables would hold. - -"And if our anchors give, I wonder where we shall go to," said Queen -Titania, in rather a low voice. - -"I don't care," said Miss Avon, quite contentedly. - -She was seated at dinner; and had undertaken to cut up and mix some -salad that Master Fred had got at Loch Hourn. She seemed wholly -engrossed in that occupation. She offered some to the Laird, very -prettily; and he would have taken it if it had been hemlock. But when -she said she did not care where the _White Dove_ might drift to, we knew -very well what she meant. And some of us may have thought that a time -would perhaps arrive when the young lady would not be able to have -everything she cared for in the world within the compass of the saloon -of a yacht. - -Now it is perhaps not quite fair to tell tales out of school; but still -the truth is the truth. The two women were on the whole very brave -throughout this business; but on that particular night the storm grew -more and more violent, and it occurred to them that they would escape -the risk of being rolled out of their berths if they came along into the -saloon and got some rugs laid on the floor. This they did; and the -noise of the wind and the sea was so great that none of the occupants of -the adjoining state-rooms heard them. But then it appeared that no -sooner had they lain down on the floor--it is unnecessary to say that -they were dressed and ready for any emergency--than they were mightily -alarmed by the swishing of water below them. - -"Mary! Mary!" said the one, "the sea is rushing into the hold." - -The other, knowing less about yachts, said nothing; but no doubt, with -the admirable unselfishness of lovers, thought it was not of much -consequence, since Angus Sutherland and she would be drowned together. - -But what was to be clone? The only way to the forecastle was through -the Doctor's state-room. There was no help for it; they first knocked -at his door, and called to him that the sea was rushing into the hold; -and then he bawled into the forecastle until Master Fred, the first to -awake, made his appearance, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes and -saying, "Very well, sir; is it hot water or cold water ye want?" and -then there was a general commotion of the men getting on deck to try the -pumps. And all this brave uproar for nothing. There was scarcely a -gallon of water in the hold; but the women, by putting their heads close -to the floor of the saloon, had imagined that the sea was rushing in on -them. Such is the story of this night's adventures as it was -subsequently--and with some shamefacedness--related to the writer of -these pages. There are some people who, when they go to sleep, sleep, -and refuse to pay heed to twopenny-halfpenny tumults. - -Next morning the state of affairs was no better; but there was this -point in our favour, that the _White Dove_, having held on so long, was -not now likely to drag her anchors and precipitate us on the Glenelg -shore. Again we had to pass the day below, with the running -accompaniment of pitching and groaning on the part of the boat, and of -the shrill clamour of the wind, and the rattling of heavy showers. But -as we sat at luncheon, a strange thing occurred. A burst of sunlight -suddenly came through the skylight and filled the saloon, moving -backwards and forwards on the blue cushions as the yacht swayed, and -delighting everybody with the unexpected glory of colour. You may -suppose that there was little more thought of luncheon. There was an -instant stampede for waterproofs and a clambering up the companion-way. -Did not this brief burst of sunlight portend the passing over of the -gale? Alas! alas! when we got on deck, we found the scene around us as -wild and stormy as ever, with even a heavier sea now racing up the Sound -and thundering along Glenelg. Hopelessly we went below again. The only -cheerful feature of our imprisonment was the obvious content of those -two young people. They seemed perfectly satisfied with being shut up in -this saloon; and were always quite surprised when Master Fred's summons -interrupted their draughts or bezique. - -On the third day the wind came in intermittent squalls, which was -something; and occasionally there was a glorious burst of sunshine that -went flying across the grey-green driven sea. But for the most part it -rained heavily; and the Ferdinand and Miranda business was continued -with much content. The Laird had lost himself in Municipal London. Our -Admiral-in-chief was writing voluminous letters to two youths at school -in Surrey, which were to be posted if ever we reached land again. - -That night about ten o'clock a cheering incident occurred. We heard the -booming of a steam-whistle. Getting up on deck, we could make out the -lights of a steamer creeping along by the Glenelg shore. That was the -Clydesdale going north. Would she have faced Ardnamurchan if the -equinoctials had not moderated somewhat? These were friendly lights. - -Then on the fourth day it became quite certain that the gale was -moderating. The bursts of sunshine became more frequent; patches of -brilliant blue appeared in the sky; a rainbow from time to time appeared -between us and the black clouds in the east. With what an intoxication -of joy we got out at last from our long imprisonment, and felt the warm -sunlight around us, and watched the men get ready to lower the gig so as -to establish once more our communications with the land. Mary Avon -would boldly have adventured into that tumbling and rocking thing--she -implored to be allowed to go; if the Doctor were going to pull stroke, -why should she not be allowed to steer? But she was forcibly -restrained. Then away went the shapely boat through the plunging -waters--showers of spray sweeping her from stem to stern--until it -disappeared into the little bight of Kyle Rhea. - -The news brought back from the shore of the destruction wrought by this -gale--the worst that had visited these coasts for three-and-twenty -years--was terrible enough; and it was coupled with the most earnest -warnings that we should not set out. But the sunlight had got into the -brain of these long-imprisoned people, and sent them mad. They implored -the doubting John of Skye to get ready to start. They promised that if -only he would run up to Kyle Akin, they would not ask him to go further, -unless the weather was quite fine. To move--to move--that was their -only desire and cry. - -John of Skye shook his head; but so far humoured them as to weigh one of -the anchors. - -By and by, too, he had the topmast hoisted again: all this looked more -promising. Then, as the afternoon came on, and the tide would soon be -turning, they renewed their entreaties. John, still doubting, at length -yielded. - -Then the joyful uproar! All hands were summoned to the halyards, for -the mainsail, soaked through with the rain, was about as stiff as a -sheet of iron. And the weighing of the second anchor--that was a -cheerful sound indeed. We paid scarcely any heed to this white squall -that was coming tearing along from the south. It brought both rain and -sunlight with it: for a second or two we were enveloped in a sort of -glorified mist--then the next minute we found a rainbow shining between -us and the black hull of the smack; presently we were in glowing -sunshine again. And then at last the anchor was got up, and the sails -filled to the wind, and the mainsheet slackened out. The _White Dove_, -released once more, was flying away to the northern seas! - - - - - *CHAPTER XV.* - - *"FLIEH! AUF! HINAUS!"* - - -This splendid sense of life, and motion, and brisk excitement! We flew -through the narrows like a bolt from a bow; we had scarcely time to -regard the whirling eddies of the current. All hands were on the alert -too, for the wind came in gusts from the Skye hills, and this tortuous -strait is not a pleasant place to be taken unawares in. But the -watching and work were altogether delightful, after our long -imprisonment. Even the grave John of Skye was whistling "Fhir a bhata" -to himself--somewhat out of tune. - -The wild and stormy sunset was shining all along the shores of Loch Alsh -as we got out of the narrows and came in sight of Kyle Akin. And here -were a number of vessels all storm-stayed, one of them, in the distance, -with her sail set. We discovered afterwards that this schooner had -dragged her anchors and run ashore at Balmacara; she was more fortunate -than many others that suffered in this memorable gale, and was at the -moment we passed returning to her former anchorage. - -The sunlight and the delight of moving had certainly got into the heads -of these people. Nothing would do for them but that John of Skye should -go on sailing all night. Kyle Akin? they would not hear of Kyle Akin. -And it was of no avail that Captain John told them what he had heard -ashore--that the _Glencoe_ had to put back with her bulwarks smashed; -that here, there, and everywhere vessels were on the rocks; that -Stornoway harbour was full of foreign craft, not one of which would put -her nose out. They pointed to the sea, and the scene around them. It -was a lovely sunset. Would not the moon be up by eleven? - -"Well, mem," said John of Skye, with a humorous smile, "I think if we go -on the night, there not mich chance of our rinning against anything." - -And indeed he was not to be outbraved by a couple of women. When we got -to Kyle Akin, the dusk beginning to creep over land and sea, he showed -no signs of running in there for shelter. We pushed through the narrow -straits, and came in view of the darkening plain of the Atlantic, -opening away up there to the north, and as far as we could see there was -not a single vessel but ourselves on all this world of water. The gloom -deepened; in under the mountains of Skye there was a darkness as of -midnight. But one could still make out ahead of us the line of the -Scalpa shore, marked by the white breaking of the waves. Even when that -grew invisible we had Rona light to steer by. - -The stormy and unsettled look of the sunset had prepared us for -something of a dirty night, and as we went on both wind and sea -increased considerably. The south-westerly breeze that had brought us -so far at a spanking rate began to veer round to the north, and came in -violent squalls, while the long swell running down between Raasay and -Scalpa and the mainland caused the _White Dove_ to labour heavily. -Moreover, the night got as black as pitch, the moon had not arisen, and -it was lucky, in this laborious beating up against the northerly -squalls, that we had the distant Rona light by which to judge of our -whereabouts. - -The two women were huddled together in the companion-way; it was the -safest place for them; we could just make out the two dark figures in -the ruddy glow coming up from the saloon. - -"Isn't it splendid to be going like this," said Miss Avon, "after lying -at anchor so long?" - -Her friend did not answer. She had been chiefly instrumental in -persuading Captain John to keep on during the night, and she did not -quite like the look of things. For one thing, she had perceived that -the men were all now clad from head to foot in oilskins, though as yet -there was nothing but spray coming on board. - -Our young Doctor came aft, and tried to get down the companion-way -without disturbing the two women. - -"I am going below for my waterproof and leggings," said he, with a -slight laugh. "There will be some fun before this night is over." - -The tone of the girl altered in a moment. - -"Oh, Angus," said she, grasping him by the arm. "Pray don't do that! -Leave the men to work the boat. If there is any danger, why don't they -make away for the land somewhere?" - -"There is no danger," said he, "but there will be a little water by and -by." - -The volume of the great waves was certainly increasing, and a beautiful -sight it was to mark the red port-light shining on the rushing masses of -foam as they swept by the side of the vessel. Our whereabouts by this -time had become wholly a matter of conjecture with the amateurs, for the -night was quite black; however, Rona light still did us good service. - -When Angus Sutherland came on deck again, she was on the port tack, and -the wind had moderated somewhat. But this proved to be a lull of evil -omen. There was a low roar heard in the distance, and almost directly a -violent squall from the east struck the yacht, sending the boom flying -over before the skipper could get hold of the mainsheet. Away flew the -_White Dove_ like an arrow, with the unseen masses of water smashing -over her bows! - -"In with the mizen, boys!" called out John of Skye, and there was a -hurried clatter and stamping, and flapping of canvas. - -But that was not enough, for this unexpected squall from the east showed -permanence, and as we were making in for the Sound of Scalpa we were now -running free before the wind. - -"We'll tek the foresail off her, boys!" shouted John of Skye again, and -presently there was another rattle down on the deck. - -Onwards and onwards we flew, in absolute darkness but for that red light -that made the sea shine like a foaming sea of blood. And the pressure -of the wind behind increased until it seemed likely to tear the canvas -off her spars. - -"Down with the jib, then!" called out John of Skye; and we heard, but -could not see, the men at work forward. And still the _White Dove_ flew -onwards through the night, and the wind howled and whistled through the -rigging, and the boiling surges of foam swept away from her side. There -was no more of Rona light to guide us now; we were tearing through the -Sound of Scalpa; and still this hurricane seemed to increase in fury. -As a last resource, John of Skye had the peak lowered. We had now -nothing left but a mainsail about the size of a pocket-handkerchief. - -As the night wore on, we got into more sheltered waters, being under the -lee of Scalpa; and we crept away down between that island and Skye, -seeking for a safe anchorage. It was a business that needed a sharp -look-out, for the waters are shallow here, and we discovered one or two -smacks at anchor, with no lights up. They did not expect any vessel to -run in from the open on a night like this. - -And at last we chose our place for the night, letting go both anchors. -Then we went below, into the saloon. - -"And how do you like sailing in the equinoctials, Mary?" said our -hostess. - -"I am glad we are all round this table again, and alive," said the girl. - -"I thought you said the other day you did not care whether the yacht -went down or not?" - -"Of the two," remarked Miss Avon shyly, "it is perhaps better that she -should be afloat." - -Angus was passing at the moment. He put his hand lightly on her -shoulder, and said, in a kind way-- - -"It is better not to tempt the unknown, Mary. Remember what the French -proverb says, 'quand on est mort, c'est pour longtemps.' And you know -you have not nearly completed that great series of _White Dove_ sketches -for the smoking-room at Denny-mains." - -"The smoking-room!" exclaimed the Laird, indignantly. "There is not one -of her sketches that will not have a place--an honoured place--in my -dining-room: depend on that. Ye will see--both of ye--what I will do -with them; and the sooner ye come to see the better." - -We this evening resolved that if, by favour of the winds and the valour -of John of Skye, we got up to Portree next day, we should at once -telegraph to the island of Lewis (where we proposed to cease these -summer wanderings) to inquire about the safety of certain friends of -ours whom we meant to visit there, and who are much given to yachting; -for the equinoctials must have blown heavily into Loch Roag, and the -little harbour at Borva is somewhat exposed. However, it was not likely -that they would allow themselves to be caught. They know something -about the sea, and about boats, at Borva. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVI.* - - *AFTER THE GALE.* - - -"Well, indeed!" exclaimed the Laird, on putting his head out next -morning. "This is wonderful--wonderful!" - -Was it the long imprisonment in the darkness of the equinoctials that -made him welcome with so much delight this spectacle of fair skies and -sapphire seas, with the waves breaking white in Scalpa Sound, and the -sunlight shining along the Coolins? Or was it not rather our long -isolation from the ordinary affairs of the world that made him greet -with acclamation this picture of brisk and busy human life, now visible -from the deck of the yacht? We were no longer alone in the world. Over -there, around the big black smacks--that looked like so many hens with -broods of chickens--swarmed a fleet of fishing-boats; and as rapidly as -hands could manage it, both men and women were shaking out the brown -nets and securing the glittering silver treasure of the sea. It was a -picturesque sight--the stalwart brown-bearded men in their yellow -oilskins and huge boots; the bare-armed women in their scarlet -short-gowns; the masses of ruddy brown nets; the lowered sails. And -then the Laird perceived that he was not alone in regarding this busy -and cheerful scene. - -Along there by the bulwarks, with one hand on the shrouds and the other -on the gig, stood Mary Avon, apparently watching the boats passing to -and fro between the smacks and the shore. The Laird went gently up to -her, and put his hand on her shoulder. She started, turned round -suddenly, and then he saw, to his dismay, that her eyes were full of -tears. - -"What, what?" said he, with a quick doubt and fear coming over him. Had -all his plans failed, then? Was the girl still unhappy? - -"What is it, lass? What is the matter?" said he, gripping her hand so -as to get the truth from her. - -By this time she had dried her eyes. - -"Nothing--nothing," said she, rather shame-facedly. "I was only -thinking about the song of 'Caller Herring;' and how glad those women -must be to find their husbands come back this morning. Fancy their -being out on such a night as last night. What it must be to be a -fisherman's wife--and alone on shore----" - -"Toots, toots, lass!" cried the Laird, with a splendid cheerfulness; for -he was greatly relieved that this was all the cause of the wet eyes. -"Ye are jist giving way to a sentiment. I have observed that people are -apt to be sentimental in the morning, before they get their breakfast. -What! are ye peetying these folk? I can tell ye this is a proud day for -them, to judge by they heaps o' fish. They are jist as happy as kings; -and as for the risk o' their trade, they have to do what is appointed to -them. Why, does not that Doctor friend o' yours say that the happiest -people are they who are hardest worked?" - -This reference to the Doctor silenced the young lady at once. - -"Not that I have much right to talk about work," said the Laird, -penitently. "I believe I am becoming the idlest crayture on the face of -this world." - -At this point a very pretty little incident occurred. A boat was -passing to the shore; and in the stern of her was a young fisherman--a -handsome young fellow, with a sun-tanned face and yellow beard. As they -were going by the yacht, he caught a glimpse of Miss Avon; then when -they had passed, he said something in Gaelic to his two companions, who -immediately rested on their oars. Then he was seen rapidly to fill a -tin can with two or three dozen herrings; and his companions backed -their boat to the side of the yacht. The young fellow stood up in the -stern, and with a shy laugh--but with no speech, for he was doubtless -nervous about his English--offered this present to the young lady. She -was very much pleased; but she blushed quite as much as he did. And she -was confused, for she could not summon Master Fred to take charge of the -herrings, seeing this compliment was so directly paid to herself. -However, she boldly gripped the tin can, and said, "Oh, thank you very -much;" and by this time the Laird had fetched a bucket, into which the -glittering beauties were slipped. Then the can was handed back, with -further and profuse thanks, and the boat pushed off. - -Suddenly, and with great alarm, Miss Avon remembered that Angus had -taught her what Highland manners were. - -"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she called out to the bearded young fisherman, -who instantly turned round, and the oars were stopped. "I beg your -pardon," said she, with an extreme and anxious politeness, "but would -you take a glass of whisky?" - -"No, thank ye, mem," said the fisherman, with another laugh of -friendliness on the frank face; and then away they went. - -The girl was in despair. She was about to marry a Highlander, and -already she had forgotten the first of Highland customs. But unexpected -relief was at hand. Hearing something going on, John of Skye had -tumbled up from the forecastle, and instantly saw that the young lady -was sorely grieved that those friendly fishermen had not accepted this -return compliment. He called aloud, in Gaelic, and in a severe tone. -The three men came back, looking rather like schoolboys who would fain -escape from an embarrassing interview. And then at the same moment -Captain John, who had asked Fred to bring up the whisky-bottle, said in -a low voice to the young lady-- - -"They would think it ferry kind, mem, if you would pour out the whisky -with your own hand." - -And this was done, Miss Mary going through the ceremony without -flinching; and as each of the men was handed his glass, he rose up in -the boat, and took off his cap, and drank the health of the young lady, -in the Gaelic. And Angus Sutherland, when he came on deck, was greatly -pleased to hear of what she had done; though the Laird took occasion to -remark at breakfast that he hoped it was not a common custom among the -young ladies of England to get up early in the morning to have -clandestine flirtations with handsome young fishermen. - -Then all hands on deck: for now there are two anchors to be got in, and -we must not lose any of this pleasant sailing breeze. In these -sheltered and shining waters there are scarcely any traces of the recent -rough weather, except that the wind still comes in variable puffs, and -from all sorts of unexpected directions. In the main, however, it is N. -by E., and so we have to set to work to leisurely beat up the Sound of -Raasay. - -"Well, this is indeed like old times, Mary!" Queen Titania cries, as she -comfortably ensconces herself in a camp-chair: for Miss Avon is at the -helm, and the young Doctor, lying at full length on the sunlit deck, is -watching the sails and criticising her steering; and the Laird is -demonstrating to a humble listener the immeasurable advantages enjoyed -by the Scotch landscape-painters, in that they have within so small a -compass every variety of mountain, lake, woodland, and ocean scenery. -He becomes facetious, too, about Miss Mary's sketches. What if he were -to have a room set apart for them at Denny-mains, to be called the -_White Dove_ Gallery? He might have a skilled decorator out from -Glasgow to devise the furniture and ornamentation, so that both should -suggest the sea, and ships, and sailors. - -Here John of Skye comes aft. - -"I think," says he to Miss Avon, with a modest smile, "we might put the -gaff topsail on her." - -"Oh, yes, certainly," says this experienced mariner; and the Doctor, -seeing an opportunity for bestirring himself, jumps to his feet. - -And so, with the topsail shining white in the sun--a thing we have not -seen for some time--we leave behind us the gloomy opening into Loch -Sligachan, and beat up through the Raasay narrows, and steal by the -pleasant woods of Raasay House. The Laird has returned to that project -of the Marine Gallery, and he has secured an attentive listener in the -person of his hostess, who prides herself that she has a sure instinct -as to what is "right" in mural decoration. - -This is indeed like old times come back again. The light, cool breeze, -the warm decks, the pleasant lapping of the water, and our steerswoman -partly whistling and partly humming-- - - "They'll put a napkin round my e'en, - They'll no let me see to dee; - And they'll never let on to my faither and mither, - But I am awa' o'er the sea." - -And this she is abstractedly and contentedly doing, without any notice -of the fact that the song is supposed to be a pathetic one. - -Then our young Doctor: of what does he discourse to us during this -delightful daydreaming and idleness? Well, it has been remarked by more -than one of us that Dr. Angus has become tremendously practical of late. -You would scarcely have believed that this was the young F.R.S. who used -to startle the good Laird out of his wits by his wild speculations about -the origin of the world and similar trifles. Now his whole interest -seemed to be centred on the commonest things: all the Commissioners of -the Burgh of Strathgovan put together could not have been more fierce -than he was about the necessity of supplying houses with pure water, for -example. And the abuse that he heaped on the Water Companies of London, -more especially, and on the Government which did not interfere, was so -distinctly libellous that we are glad no alien overheard it. - -Then as to arsenic in wall-papers: he was equally dogmatic and indignant -about that; and here it was his hostess, rather than the Laird, who was -interested. She eagerly committed to her note-book a recipe for testing -the presence of that vile metal in wall-papers or anything else; and -some of us had mentally to thank Heaven that she was not likely to get -test-tubes, and zinc filings, and hydrochloric acid in Portree. The -woman would have blown up the ship. - -All this and much more was very different from the kind of conversation -that used so seriously to trouble the Laird. When he heard Angus talk -with great common sense and abundant information about the various -climates that suited particular constitutions, and about the best soils -for building houses on, and about the necessity for strict municipal -supervision of drainage, he was ready to believe that our young Doctor -had not only for his own part never handled that dangerous book the -_Vestiges of Creation_, but that he had never even known any one who had -glanced at its sophistical pages except with a smile of pity. Why, all -the time that we were shut up by the equinoctials, the only profound and -mysterious thing that Angus had said was this: "There is surely -something wrong when the man who takes on himself all the trouble of -drawing a bottle of ale is bound to give his friend the first tumbler, -which is clear, and keep the second tumbler, which is muddy, for -himself." But if you narrowly look into it, you will find that there is -really nothing dangerous or unsettling in this saying--no grumbling -against the ways of Providence whatsoever. It is mysterious, perhaps; -but then so would many of the nice points about the Semple case have -been, had we not had with us an able expositor. - -And on this occasion, as we were running along for Portree, our F.R.S. -was chiefly engaged in warning us against paying too serious heed to -certain extreme theories about food and drink which were then being put -put forward by a number of distinguished physicians. - -"For people in good health, the very worst adviser is the doctor," he -was saying; when he was gently reminded by his hostess that he must not -malign his own calling, or destroy a superstition that might in itself -have curative effects. - -"Oh, I scarcely call myself a doctor," he said, "for I have no practice -as yet. And I am not denying the power of a physician to help nature in -certain cases--of course not; but what I say is that for healthy people -the doctor is the worst adviser possible. Why, where does he get his -experience?--from the study of people who are ill. He lives in an -atmosphere of sickness; his conclusions about the human body are drawn -from bad specimens; the effects that he sees produced are produced on -too sensitive subjects. Very likely, too, if he is himself a -distinguished physician, he has gone through an immense amount of -training and subsequent hard work; his own system is not of the -strongest; and he considers that what he feels to be injurious to him -must be injurious to other people. Probably so it might be--to people -similarly sensitive; but not necessarily to people in sound health. -Fancy a man trying to terrify people by describing the awful appearance -produced on one's internal economy when one drinks half a glass of -sherry! And that," he added, "is a piece of pure scientific -sensationalism; for precisely the same appearance is produced if you -drink half a glass of milk." - -"I am of opinion," said the Laird, with the gravity befitting such a -topic, "that of all steemulants nothing is better or wholesomer than a -drop of sound, sterling whisky." - -"And where are you likely to get it?----" - -"I can assure ye, at Denny-mains----" - -"I mean where are the masses of the people to get it? What they get is -a cheap white spirit, reeking with fusel-oil, with just enough whisky -blended to hide the imposture. The decoction is a certain poison. If -the Government would stop tinkering at Irish franchises, and Irish -tenures, and Irish Universities, and would pass a law making it penal -for any distiller to sell spirits that he has not had in bond for at -least two years, they would do a good deal more service to Ireland, and -to this country too." - -"Still, these measures of amelioration must have their effect," observed -the Liard, sententiously. "I would not discourage wise legislation. We -will reconcile Ireland sooner or later, if we are prudent and -conseederate." - -"You may as well give them Home Rule at once," said Dr. Angus, bluntly. -"The Irish have no regard for the historical grandeur of England; how -could they?--they have lost their organ of veneration. The coronal -region of the skull has in time become depressed, through frequent -shillelagh practice." - -For a second the Laird glanced at him: there was a savour of George -Combe about this speech. Could it be that he believed in that monstrous -and atheistical theory? - -But no. The Laird only laughed; and said: - -"I would not like to have an Irishman hear ye say so." - -It was now abundantly clear to us that Denny-mains could no longer -suspect of anything heterodox and destructive this young man who was -sound on drainage, pure air, and a constant supply of water to the -tanks. - -Of course, we could not get into Portree without Ben Inivaig having a -tussle with us. This mountain is the most inveterate brewer of squalls -in the whole of the West Highlands, and it is his especial delight to -catch the unwary, when all their eyes are bent on the safe harbour -within. But we were equal with him. Although he tried to tear our -masts out and frighten us out of our senses, all that he really -succeeded in doing was to put us to a good deal of trouble and break a -tumbler or two below. We pointed the finger of scorn at Ben Inivaig. -We sailed past him, and took no more notice of him. With a favouring -breeze, and with our topsail still set, we glided into the open and -spacious harbour. - -But that first look round was a strange one. Was this really Portree -Harbour, or were we so many Rip Van Winkles? There were the shining -white houses, and the circular bay, and the wooded cliffs; but where -were the yachts that used to keep the place so bright and busy? There -was not an inch of white canvas visible. We got to anchor near a couple -of heavy smacks; the men looked at us as if we had dropped from the -skies. - -We went ashore and walked up to the telegraph office to see whether the -adjacent islands of great Britain and Ireland--as the Cumbrae minister -called them--had survived the equinoctials; and learned only too -accurately what serious mischief had been done all along these coasts by -the gale. From various points, moreover, we subsequently received -congratulations on our escape, until we almost began to believe that we -had really been in serious peril. For the rest, our friends at Borva -were safe enough; they had not been on board their yacht at all. - -That evening, in the silent and deserted bay, a council of war was held -on deck. We were not, as it turned out, quite alone; there had also -come in a steam yacht, the master of which informed our John of Skye -that such a gale he had not seen for three-and-twenty years. He also -told us that there was a heavy sea running in the Minch; and that no -vessel would try to cross. Stornoway Harbour, we already knew, was -filled with storm-stayed craft. So we had to decide. - -Like the very small and white-faced boy who stood forth to declaim -before a school-full of examiners and friends, and who raised his hand, -and announced in a trembling falsetto that his voice was still for war, -it was the women who spoke first, and they were for going right on the -next morning. - -"Mind," said Angus Sutherland, looking anxiously at certain dark eyes; -"there is generally a good sea in the Minch in the best of weathers; but -after a three or four days'--well----" - -"I, for one, don't care," said Miss Avon, frankly regarding him. - -"And I should like it," said the other woman, "so long as there is -plenty of wind. But if Captain John takes me out into the middle of the -Minch and keeps me rolling about on the Atlantic in a dead calm, then -something will befall him that his mother knew nothing about." - -Here Captain John was emboldened to step forward, and to say, with an -embarrassed politeness-- - -"I not afraid of anything for the leddies; for two better sailors I -never sah ahl my life lang." - -However, the final result of our confabulation that night was the -resolve to get under way next morning, and proceed a certain distance -until we should discover what the weather was like outside. With a fair -wind, we might run the sixty miles to Stornoway before night; without a -fair wind, there was little use in our adventuring out to be knocked -about in the North Minch, where the Atlantic finds itself jammed into -the neck of a bottle, and rebels in a somewhat frantic fashion. We must -do our good friends in Portree the justice to say that they endeavoured -to dissuade us; but then we had sailed in the _White Dove_ before, and -had no great fear of her leading us into any trouble. - -And so, good-night!--good-night! We can scarcely believe that this is -Portree Harbour, so still and quiet it is. All the summer fleet of -vessels have fled; the year has gone with them; soon we, too, must -betake ourselves to the south. Good-night!--good-night! The peace of -the darkness falls over us; if there is any sound, it is the sound of -singing in our dreams. - -[Illustration: Music fragment] - - - - - *CHAPTER XVII.* - - *"A GOOD ONE FOR THE LAST."* - - -"Ah, well, well," said the Laird, somewhat sadly, to his hostess, "I -suppose we may now conseeder that we have started on our last day's -sailing in the _White Dove_?" - -"I suppose so," said she; and this was before breakfast, so she may have -been inclined to be a bit sentimental too. - -"I'm thinking," said he, "that some of us may hereafter look back on -this sailing as the longest and grandest holiday of their life, and will -recall the name of the _White Dove_ with a certain amount of affection. -I, for one, feel that I can scarcely justify myself for withdrawing so -long from the duties that society demands from every man; and no doubt -there will be much to set right when one goes back to Strathgovan. But -perhaps one has been able to do something even in one's idleness----" - -He paused here, and remained silent for a moment or two. - -"What a fine thing," he continued, "it must be for a doctor to watch the -return of health to a patient's face--to watch the colour coming back, -and the eyes looking happy again, and the spirits rising; and to think -that maybe he has helped. And if he happens to know the patient, and to -be as anxious about her as if she were his own child, do not ye think he -must be a proud man when he sees the results of what he has done for -her, and when he hears her begin to laugh again?" - -Despite the Laird's profound ingenuity, we knew very well who that -doctor was. And we had learned something about the affection which this -mythical physician had acquired for this imaginary patient. - -"What a sensitive bit crayture she is!" said he, suddenly, as if he were -now talking of some quite different person. "Have ye seen the -difference the last few days have made on her face--have ye not observed -it?" - -"Yes, indeed I have." - -"Ye would imagine that her face was just singing a song from the morning -till the night--I have never seen any one with such expressive eyes as -that bit lass has--and--and--it is fairly a pleasure to any one to look -at the happiness of them." - -"Which she owes to you, sir." - -"To me?" said the Laird. "Dear me!--not to me. It was a fortunate -circumstance that I was with ye on board the yacht, that is all. What I -did no man who had the chance could have refused to do. No, no; if the -lass owes any gratitude to anybody or anything it is to the Semple -case." - -"What?" - -"Just so, ma'am," said the Laird composedly. "I will confess to ye that -a long holiday spent in sailing had not that attraction for me it might -have had for others--though I think I have come to enjoy it now with the -best of ye; but I thought, when ye pressed me to come, that it would be -a grand opportunity to get your husband to take up the Semple case, and -master it thoroughly, and put its merits in a just manner before the -public. That he does not appear to be as much interested in it as I had -reason to expect is a misfortune--perhaps he will grow to see the -importance of the principles involved in it in time; but I have ceased -to force it on his attention. In the meanwhile we have had a fine, long -holiday, which has at least given me leisure to consider many schemes -for the advantage of my brother pareeshioners. Ay; and where is Miss -Mary though?" - -"She and Angus have been up for hours, I believe," said his hostess. "I -heard them on deck before we started anyway." - -"I would not disturb them," said the Laird, with much consideration. -"They have plenty to talk about--all their life opening up before -them--like a road through a garden, as one might say. And whatever -befalls them hereafter I suppose they will always remember the present -time as the most beautiful of their existence--the wonder of it, the -newness, the hope. It is a strange thing that. Ye know, ma'am, that -our garden at Denny-mains, if I may say so, is far from insigneeficant. -It has been greatly commended by experienced landscape gardeners. Well, -now, that garden, when it is just at its fullest of summer colour--with -all its dahlias and hollyhocks and what not--I say ye cannot get half as -much delight from the whole show as ye get from the first glint o' a -primrose, as ye are walking through a wood, on a bleak March day, and -not expecting to see anything of the kind. Does not that make your heart -jump?" - -Here the Laird had to make way for Master Fred and the breakfast tray. - -"There is not a bairn about Strathgovan," he continued, with a laugh, -"knows better than myself where to find the first primroses and -bluebells and the red deadnettle, ye know, and so on. Would ye believe -it, that poor crayture, Johnny Guthrie was for cutting down the hedge in -the Coulterburn Road, and putting up a stone dyke!" Here the Laird's -face grew more and more stern, and he spoke with unnecessary vehemence. -"I make bold to say that the man who would cut down a hawthorn hedge -where the children go to gather their bits o' flowers, and would put in -its place a stone wall for no reason on the face of the earth, I say -that man is an ass--an intolerable and perneecious ass!" - -But this fierceness instantly vanished, for here was Mary Avon come in -to bid him good morning. And he rose and took both her hands in his -and regarded the upturned smiling face and the speaking eyes. - -"Ay, ay, lass," said he, with great satisfaction and approval, "ye have -got the roses into your cheeks at last. That is the morning air--the -'roses weet wi' dew'--it is a fine habit that of early rising. Dear me, -what a shilpit bit thing ye were when I first saw ye about three months -ago. And now I daresay ye are just as hungry as a hawk with walking up -and down the deck in the sea-air--we will not keep ye waiting a moment." - -The Laird got her a chair, next his own of course; and then rang Master -Fred's bell violently. - -"How's her head, skipper?" said Queen T., when the young Doctor made his -appearance--he had roses, too, in his cheeks, freshened by the morning -air. - -"Well," said he frankly, as he sate down, "I think it would be judicious -to have breakfast over as soon as possible; and get the things stowed -away. We are flying up the Sound of Raasay like a witch on a broom; and -there will be a roaring sea when we get beyond the shelter of Skye." - -"We have been in roaring seas before," said she, confidently. - -"We met a schooner coming into Portree Harbour this morning," said he, -with a dry smile. "She left yesterday afternoon just before we got in. -They were at it all night, but had to run back at last. They said they -had got quite enough of it." - -This was a little more serious, but the women were not to be daunted. -They had come to believe in the _White Dove_ being capable of anything, -especially when a certain aid to John of Skye was on board. For the -rest, the news was that the day was lovely, the wind fair for Stornoway, -and the yacht flying northward like an arrow. - -There was a certain solemnity, nevertheless, or perhaps only an unusual -elaborateness, about our preparations before going on deck. Gun-cases -were wedged in in front of canvases, so that Miss Avon's sketches should -not go rolling on to the floor; all such outlying skirmishers as -candlesticks, aneroids, draught-boards, and the like, were moved to the -rear of compact masses of rugs; and then the women were ordered to array -themselves in their waterproofs. Waterproofs?--and the sun flooding -through the skylight! But they obeyed. - -Certainly there did not seem to be any great need for waterproofs when -we got above and had the women placed in a secure corner of the -companion-way. It was a brilliant, breezy, blue-skied morning, with the -decks as yet quite white and dry, and with the long mountainous line of -Skye shining in the sun. The yacht was flying along at a famous pace -before a fresh and steady breeze; already we could make out, far away on -the northern horizon, a pale, low, faint-blue line, which we knew to be -the hills of southern Lewis. Of course, one had to observe that the -vast expanse of sea lying between us and that far line was of a stormy -black; moreover, the men had got on their oilskins, though not a drop of -spray was coming on board. - -As we spun along, however, before the freshening wind, the crashes of -the waves at the bows became somewhat more heavy, and occasionally some -jets of white foam would spring up into the sunlight. When it was -suggested to Captain John that he might set the gaff topsail, he very -respectfully and shyly shook his head. For one thing, it was rather -strange that on this wide expanse of sea not a solitary vessel was -visible. - -Farther and farther northward. And now one has to look out for the -white water springing over the bows, and there is a general ducking of -heads when the crash forward gives warning. The decks are beginning to -glisten now; and Miss Avon has received one sharp admonition to be more -careful, which has somewhat damped and disarranged her hair. And so the -_White Dove_ still flies to the north--like an arrow--like a witch on a -broom--like a hare, only that none of these things would groan so much -in getting into the deep troughs of the sea; and not even a witch on a -broom could perform such capers in the way of tumbling and tossing, and -pitching and rolling. - -However all this was mere child's play. We knew very well when and -where we should really "get it": and we got it. Once out of the shelter -of the Skye coast, we found a considerably heavy sea swinging along the -Minch, and the wind was still freshening up, insomuch that Captain John -had to take the mizen and foresail off her. How splendidly those -mountain masses of waves came heaving along--apparently quite black -until they came near, and then we could see the sunlight shining green -through the breaking crest; then there was a shock at the bows that -caused the yacht to shiver from stem to stern; then a high springing -into the air, followed by a heavy rattle and rush on the decks. The -scuppers were of no use at all; there was a foot and a half of hissing -and seething salt water all along the lee bulwarks, and when the gangway -was lifted to let it out the next rolling wave only spouted an equal -quantity up on deck, soaking Dr. Angus Sutherland to the shoulder. Then -a heavier sea than usual struck her, carrying off the cover of the fore -hatch and sending it spinning aft; while, at the same moment, a voice -from the forecastle informed Captain John in an injured tone that this -last invader had swamped the men's berths. What could he do but have -the main tack hauled up to lighten the pressure of the wind? The waters -of the Minch, when once they rise, are not to be stilled by a bottle of -salad oil. - -We had never before seen the ordinarily buoyant _White Dove_ take in -such masses of water over her bows; but we soon got accustomed to the -seething lake of water along the lee scuppers, and allowed it to subside -or increase as it liked. And the women were now seated a step lower on -the companion-way, so that the rags of the waves flew by them without -touching them; and there was a good deal of laughing and jesting going -on at the clinging and stumbling of any unfortunate person who had to -make his way along the deck. As for our indefatigable Doctor, his face -had been running wet with salt water for hours; twice he had slipped and -gone headlong to leeward; and now, with a rope double twisted round the -tiller, he was steering, his teeth set hard. - -"Well, Mary," shrieked Queen Titania into her companion's ear. "We are -having a good one for the last!" - -"Is he going up the mast?" cried the girl in great alarm. - -"I say we are having a good one for the last!" - -"Oh, yes!" was the shout in reply. "She is indeed going fast!" - -But about mid-day we passed within a few miles to the east of the Shiant -Islands, and here the sea was somewhat moderated, so we tumbled below -for a snack of lunch. The women wanted to devote the time to dressing -their hair and adorning themselves anew; but purser Sutherland objected -to this altogether. He compelled them to eat and drink while that was -possible; and several toasts were proposed--briefly, but with much -enthusiasm. Then we scrambled on deck again. We found that John had -hoisted his foresail again, but he had let the mizen alone. - -Northward and ever northward--and we are all alone on this wide, wide -sea. But that pale line of coast at the horizon is beginning to resolve -itself into definite form--into long, low headlands, some of which are -dark in shadow, others shining in the sun. And then the cloudlike -mountains beyond; can these be the far Suainabhal and Mealasabhal, and -the other giants that look down on Loch Roag and the western shores? -They seem to belong to a world beyond the sea. - -Northward and ever northward; and there is less water coming over now, -and less groaning and plunging, so that one can hear oneself speak. And -what is this wagering on the part of the Doctor that we shall do the -sixty miles between Portree and Stornoway within the six hours? John of -Skye shakes his head; but he has the main tack hauled down. - -Then, as the day wears on, behold! a small white object in that line of -blue. The cry goes abroad: it is Stornoway Light! - -"Come, now, John!" the Doctor calls aloud. "Within the six hours--for a -glass of whisky and a lucky sixpence!" - -"We not at Styornaway Light yet," answered the prudent John of Skye, who -is no gambler. But all the same, he called two of the men aft to set the -mizen again; and as for himself, he threw off his oilskins and appeared -in his proud uniform once more. This looked like business. - -Well, it was not within the six hours, but it was within the six hours -and a half, that we sailed past Stornoway lighthouse and its outstanding -perch; and past a floating target with a red flag, for artillery -practice; and past a barque which had been driven ashore two days -before, and now stuck there, with her back broken. And this was a -wonderful sight--after the lone, wide seas--to see such a mass of ships -of all sorts and sizes crowded in here for fear of the weather. We read -their names in the strange foreign type as we passed--_Die Heimath_, -_Georg Washington_, _Friedrich der Grosse_, and the like--and we saw the -yellow-haired Norsemen pulling between the vessels in their odd-looking -double-bowed boats. And was not John of Skye a proud man that day, as -he stood by the tiller in his splendour of blue and brass buttons, -knowing that he had brought the _White Dove_ across the wild waters of -the Minch, when not one of these foreigners would put his nose outside -the harbour? - -The evening light was shining over the quiet town, and the shadowed -castle, and the fir-tipped circle of hills, when the _White Dove_ -rattled out her anchor chain and came to rest. And as this was our last -night on board, there was a good deal of packing and other trouble. It -was nearly ten o'clock when we came together again. - -The Laird was in excellent spirits that night, and was more than -ordinarily facetious; but his hostess refused to be comforted. A -thousand Homeshes could not have called up a smile. For she had grown -to love this scrambling life on board; and she had acquired a great -affection for the yacht itself; and now she looked round this old and -familiar saloon, in which we had spent so many snug and merry evenings -together; and she knew she was looking at it for the last time. - -At length, however, the Laird bethought himself of arousing her from her -sentimental sadness, and set to work to joke her out of it. He told her -she was behaving like a school-girl come to the end of her holiday. -Well, she only further behaved like a schoolgirl by letting her lips -begin to tremble; and then she stealthily withdrew to her own cabin; and -doubtless had a good cry there. There was no help for it, however: the -child had to give up its plaything at last. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVIII.* - - *ADIEU.* - - -Next morning, also: why should this tender melancholy still dwell in the -soft and mournful eyes? The sunlight was shining cheerfully on the -sweep of wooded hill, on the grey castle, on the scattered town, and on -the busy quays. Busy was scarcely the word: there was a wild excitement -abroad, for a vast take of herring had just been brought in. There, -close in by the quays, were the splendidly-built luggers, with their -masts right at their bows; and standing up in them their stalwart crews, -bronze-faced, heavy-bearded, with oilskin caps, and boots up to their -thighs. Then on the quays above the picturesquely-costumed women busy -at the salting; and agents eagerly chaffering with the men; and empty -barrels coming down in unknown quantities. Bustle, life, excitement -pervaded the whole town; but our tender-hearted hostess, as we got -ashore, seemed to pay no heed to it. As she bade good-bye to the men, -shaking hands with each there were tears in her eyes; if she had wished -to cast a last glance in the direction of the _White Dove_, she could -scarcely have seen the now still and motionless craft. - -But by and by, when we had left our heavier luggage at the inn, and when -we set out to drive across the island to visit some friends of ours who -live on the western side, she grew somewhat more cheerful. Here and -there a whiff of the fragrant peat-smoke caught us as we passed, -bringing back recollections of other days. Then she had one or two -strangers to inform and instruct; and she was glad thai Mary Avon had a -bright day for her drive across the Lewis. - -"But what a desolate place it must be on a wet day," that young person -remarked, as she looked away across the undulating moors, vast, and -lonely, and silent. - -Now, at all events, the drive was pleasant enough: for the sunlight -brought out the soft ruddy browns of the bog-land, and ever and again -the blue and white surface of a small loch flashed back the daylight -from amid that desolation. Then occasionally the road crossed a -brawling stream, and the sound of it was grateful enough in the -oppressive silence. In due course of time we reached Garra na-hina. - -Our stay at the comfortable little hostelry was but brief, for the boat -to be sent by our friends had not arrived, and it was proposed that in -the meantime we should walk along the coast to show our companions the -famous stones of Callernish. By this time Queen Titania had quite -recovered her spirits, and eagerly assented, saying how pleasant a walk -would be after our long confinement on shipboard. - -It was indeed a pleasant walk, through a bright and cheerful piece of -country. And as we went along we sometimes turned to look around us--at -the waters of the Black River, a winding line of silver through the -yellow and brown of the morass; and at the placid blue waters of Loch -Roag, with the orange line of seaweed round the rocks; and at the far -blue bulk of Suainabhal. We did not walk very fast; and indeed we had -not got anywhere near the Callernish stones, when the sharp eye of our -young Doctor caught sight of two new objects that had come into this -shining picture. The first was a large brown boat, rowed by four -fishermen; the second was a long and shapely boat--like the pinnace of a -yacht--also pulled by four men, in blue jerseys and scarlet caps. There -was no one in the stern of the big boat; but in the stern of the gig -were three figures, as far as we could make out. - -Now no sooner had our attention been called to the two boats which had -just come round the point of an island out there, than our good Queen -Titania became greatly excited, and would have us all go out to the top -of a small headland and frantically wave our handkerchiefs there. Then -we perceived that the second boat instantly changed its course, and was -being steered for the point on which we stood. We descended to the -shore and went out on to some rocks, Queen Titania becoming quite -hysterical. - -"Oh, how kind of her! how kind of her!" she cried, "to come so far to -meet us!" - -For it now appeared that these three figures in the stern of the white -pinnace, were the figures of a young lady, who was obviously steering, -and of two small boys, one on each side of her, and both dressed as -young sailors. And the steerswoman--she had something of a sailor-look -about her too; for she was dressed in navy blue; and she wore a straw -hat with a blue ribbon and letters of gold. But you would scarcely have -looked at the smart straw hat when you saw the bright and laughing face, -and the beautiful eyes that seemed to speak to you long before she could -get to shore. - -And then the boat was run into a small creak; and the young lady stepped -lightly out--she certainly was young-looking, by the way, to be the -mother of those two small sailors--and she quickly and eagerly and -gladly caught Queen Titania with both her hands. - -"Oh, indeed I beg your pardon," said she--and her speech was exceedingly -pleasant to hear--"but I did not think you could be so soon over from -Styornaway." - - -[_Note by Queen Titania_.--It appears that now all our voyaging is over, -and we are about to retire into privacy again, I am expected, as on a -previous occasion, to come forward and address to you a kind of -epilogue, just as they do on the stage. This seems to me a sort of -strange performance at the end of a yachting cruise, for what if a -handful of salt water were to come over the bows and put out my trumpery -footlights? However, what must be must, as married women know: and so I -would first of all say a word to the many kind people who were so _very_ -good to us in these distant places in the north. You may think it -strange to associate such things as fresh vegetables, or a basket of -flowers, or a chicken, or a bottle of milk, or even a bunch of white -heather, with sentiment; but people who have been sailing in the West -Highlands do not think so--indeed, they know which is the most obliging -and friendly and hospitable place _in the whole world_. And then a word -to the reader. If I might hope that it is the same reader who has been -with us in other climes in other years--who may have driven with us -along the devious English lanes; and crossed the Atlantic, and seen the -big canons of the Rocky Mountains; and lived with us among those dear -old people in the Black Forest; and walked with us on Mickleham Downs in -the starlight, why, then, he may forgive us for taking him on such a -tremendous long holiday in these Scotch lochs. But we hope that if ever -he goes into these wilds for himself, he will get as good a skipper as -John of Skye, and have as pleasant and _true_ a friend on board as the -Laird of Denny-mains. Perhaps I may add, just to explain everything, -that we are all invited to Denny-mains to spend Christmas; and something -is going to happen there; and the Laird says that so far from objecting -to a ceremony in the Episcopal Church, he will himself be present and -give away the bride. It is even hinted that Mr. Tom Galbraith may come -from Edinburgh as a great compliment: and then no doubt we shall all be -introduced to him. And so--Good-bye!--Good-bye!--and another -message--_from the heart_--to all the kind people who befriended us in -those places far away!----T.] - - - - - THE END. - - - - - LONDON: R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITE WINGS, VOLUME III (OF 3) -*** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43830 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. 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