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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="White Wings, Volume I (of 3)" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="William Black" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1880" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="43828" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-09-27" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="White Wings, Volume I A Yachting Romance" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="White Wings, Volume I A Yachting Romance" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="wings1.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-09-28T00:08:22.641412+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43828" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="William Black" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2013-09-27" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a7 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="white-wings-volume-i"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: White Wings, Volume I -<br /> A Yachting Romance -<br /> -<br />Author: William Black -<br /> -<br />Release Date: September 27, 2013 [EBook #43828] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I (OF 3)</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">WHITE WINGS:</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">A Yachting Romance.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">WILLIAM BLACK,</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF "THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PHAETON," -<br />"GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY," ETC.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">IN THREE VOLUMES.</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">VOL. I.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">London: -<br />MACMILLAN AND CO. -<br />1880.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">LONDON: -<br />R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, -<br />BREAD STREET HILL.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container dedication"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">TO OUR</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">QUEEN MABS,</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">IN MEMORY OF HER FIRST CRUISE ON BOARD ANY -<br />YACHT, THIS RECORD OF OUR LONG SUMMER IDLENESS -<br />IN 1878 IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY HER -<br />OBLIGED AND HUMBLE SERVANT,</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics medium">THE AUTHOR.</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">BRIGHTON, </span><em class="italics small">June</em><span class="small"> 1880.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER I.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#on-the-quay">ON THE QUAY</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER II.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#mary-avon">MARY AVON</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER III.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#under-way">UNDER WAY</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER IV.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-message">A MESSAGE</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER V.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-brave-career">A BRAVE CAREER</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VI.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#our-new-guests">OUR NEW GUESTS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VII.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#northward">NORTHWARD</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VIII.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#plots-and-counter-plots">PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER IX.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-wild-studio">A WILD STUDIO</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER X.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#dunvegan-oh-dunvegan">"DUNVEGAN!—OH! DUNVEGAN!"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XI.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#drawing-nearer">DRAWING NEARER</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XII.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-old-school-and-the-new">THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XIII.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#ferdinand-and-miranda">FERDINAND AND MIRANDA</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XIV.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#evil-tidings">EVIL TIDINGS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XV.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#temptation">TEMPTATION</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XVI.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#through-the-dark">THROUGH THE DARK</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="on-the-quay"><span class="bold x-large">WHITE WINGS:</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Yachting Romance.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ON THE QUAY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A murmur runs through the crowd; the -various idlers grow alert; all eyes are suddenly -turned to the south. And there, far away over -the green headland, a small tuft of brown -smoke appears, rising into the golden glow of -the afternoon, and we know that by and by -we shall see the great steamer with her scarlet -funnels come sailing round the point. The -Laird of Denny-mains assumes an air of still -further importance; he pulls his frock-coat -tight at the waist; he adjusts his black satin -necktie; his tall, white, stiff collar seems more -rigid and white than ever. He has heard of -the wonderful stranger; and he knows that -now she is drawing near.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Heard of her? He has heard of nothing -else since ever he came to us in these northern -wilds. For the mistress of this household—with -all her domineering ways and her fits of -majestic temper—has a love for her intimate -girl-friends far passing the love of men; -especially when the young ladies are obedient, -and gentle, and ready to pay to her matronly -dignity the compliment of a respectful awe. -And this particular friend who is now coming -to us: what has not the Laird heard about -her during these past few days?—of her high -courage, her resolute unselfishness, her splendid -cheerfulness? "A singing-bird in the house," -that was one of the phrases used, "in wet -weather or fine." And then the enthusiastic -friend muddled her metaphors somehow, and -gave the puzzled Laird to understand that the -presence of this young lady in a house was -like having sweet-brier about the rooms. No -wonder he put on his highest and stiffest collar -before he marched grandly down with us to -the quay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And does she not deserve a long holiday -sir?" says the Laird's hostess to him, as -together they watch for the steamer coming -round the point. "Just fancy! Two months' -attendance on that old woman, who was her -mother's nurse. Two months in a sick-room, -without a soul to break the monotony of it. -And the girl living in a strange town all by -herself!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay; and in such a town as Edinburgh," -remarks the Laird, with great compassion. -His own property lies just outside Glasgow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me," says he, "what must a young -English leddy have thought of our Scotch way -of speech when she heard they poor Edinburgh -bodies and their yaumering sing-song? Not -that I quarrel with any people for having an -accent in their way of speaking; they have -that in all parts of England as well as in -Scotland—in Yorkshire, and Somersetshire, -and what not; and even in London itself there -is a way of speech that is quite recognisable -to a stranger. But I have often thought that -there was less trace of accent about Glesca -and the west of Scotland than in any other -part; in fact, ah have often been taken for an -Englishman maself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!" says this gentle creature standing -by him; and her upturned eyes are full of an -innocent belief. You would swear she was -meditating on summoning instantly her boys -from Epsom College that they might acquire -a pure accent—or get rid of all accent—on -the banks of the Clyde.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," say the Laird, with a decision almost -amounting to enthusiasm, "it is a grand -inheritance that we in the south of Scotland -are preserving for you English people; and -you know little of it. You do not know that -we are preserving the English language for you -as it was spoken centuries ago, and as you -find it in your oldest writings. Scotticisms! -Why, if ye were to read the prose of Mandeville -or Wyclif, or the poetry of Robert of -Brunne or Langdale, ye would find that our -Scotticisms were the very pith and marrow -of the English language. Ay; it is so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The innocent eyes express such profound -interest that the Laird of Denny-mains almost -forgets about the coming steamer, so anxious -is he to crush us with a display of his -erudition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is just remarkable," he says, "that your -dictionaries should put down, as obsolete, words -that are in common use all over the south of -Scotland, where, as I say, the old Northumbrian -English is preserved in its purity; and -that ye should have learned people hunting -up in Chaucer or Gower for the very speech -that they might hear among the bits o' weans -running about the Gallowgate or the -Broomielaw. '</span><em class="italics">Wha's acht ye?</em><span>' you say to one of -them; and you think you are talking Scotch. -No, no; </span><em class="italics">acht</em><span> is only the old English for -possession: isn't '</span><em class="italics">Wha's acht ye?</em><span>' shorter -and pithier than '</span><em class="italics">To whom do you belong?</em><span>'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, certainly!" says the meek disciple: the -recall of the boys from Surrey is obviously -decided on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And </span><em class="italics">speir</em><span> for </span><em class="italics">inquire</em><span>; and </span><em class="italics">ferly</em><span> for -</span><em class="italics">wonderful</em><span>; and </span><em class="italics">tyne</em><span> for </span><em class="italics">lose</em><span>; and </span><em class="italics">fey</em><span> for -</span><em class="italics">about to die</em><span>; and </span><em class="italics">reek</em><span> for </span><em class="italics">smoke</em><span>; and </span><em class="italics">menseful</em><span> -for </span><em class="italics">becoming</em><span>; and </span><em class="italics">belyve</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">fere</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">biggan</em><span>, -and such words. Ye call them Scotch? Oh, -no, ma'am; they are English; ye find them -in all the old English writers; and they are -the best of English too; a great deal better -than the Frenchified stuff that your southern -English has become."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not for worlds would the Laird have -wounded the patriotic sensitiveness of this -gentle friend of his from the South; but -indeed, she had surely nothing to complain -of in his insisting to an Englishwoman on -the value of thorough English?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought," says she, demurely, "that the -Scotch had a good many French words in it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird pretends not to hear: he is so -deeply interested in the steamer which is now -coming over the smooth waters of the bay. -But, having announced that there are a great -many people on board, he returns to his -discourse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah'm sure of this, too," says he, "that -in the matter of pronunciation the Lowland -Scotch have preserved the best English—you -can see that </span><em class="italics">faither</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">twelmonth</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">twa</em><span>, -and such words are nearer the original -Anglo-Saxon——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His hearers had been taught to shudder -at the phrase Anglo-Saxon—without exactly -knowing why. But who could withstand the -authority of the Laird? Moreover, we see -relief drawing near; the steamer's paddles -are throbbing in the still afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If ye turn to </span><em class="italics">Piers the Plowman</em><span>," -continues the indefatigable Denny-mains, "ye -will find Langdale writing—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And a fewe Cruddes and Crayme.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Why, it is the familiar phrase of our Scotch -children!—Do ye think they would say </span><em class="italics">curds</em><span>? -And then, </span><em class="italics">fewe</em><span>. I am not sure, but I imagine -we Scotch are only making use of old English -when we make certain forms of food plural. -We say 'a few broth;' we speak of porridge -as 'they.' Perhaps that is a survival, too, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, certainly. But please mind the -ropes, sir," observes his humble pupil, careful -of her master's physical safety. For at this -moment the steamer is slowing into the quay; -and the men have the ropes ready to fling -ashore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not," remarks the Laird, prudently backing -away from the edge of the pier, "that I would -say anything of these matters to your young -English friend; certainly not. No doubt she -prefers the southern English she has been -accustomed to. But, bless me! just to think -that she should judge of our Scotch tongue -by the way they Edinburgh bodies speak!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is sad, is it not?" remarks his companion—but -all her attention is now fixed on the -crowd of people swarming to the side of the -steamer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And, indeed," the Laird explains, to close -the subject, "it is only a hobby of mine—only -a hobby. Ye may have noticed that I do not -use those words in my own speech, though I -value them. No, I will not force any Scotch -on the young leddy. As ah say, ah have -often been taken for an Englishman maself, -both at home and abroad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now—and now—the great steamer is -in at the quay; the gangways are run over; -there is a thronging up the paddle-boxes; and -eager faces on shore scan equally eager faces -on board—each pair of eyes looking for that -other pair of eyes to flash a glad recognition. -And where is she—the flower of womankind—the -possessor of all virtue and grace and -courage—the wonder of the world? The -Laird shares in our excitement. He, too, -scans the crowd eagerly. He submits to be -hustled by the porters; he hears nothing of -the roaring of the steam; for is she not coming -ashore at last? And we know—or guess—that -he is looking out for some splendid creature—some -Boadicea, with stately tread and imperious -mien—some Jephtha's daughter, with proud -death in her eyes—some Rosamond of our -modern days, with a glory of loveliness on her -face and hair. And we know that the master -who has been lecturing us for half-an-hour on -our disgraceful neglect of pure English will not -shock the sensitive Southern ear by any harsh -accent of the North; but will address her in -beautiful and courtly strains, in tones such as -Edinburgh never knew. Where is the queen -of womankind, amid all this commonplace, -hurrying, loquacious crowd?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Forthwith the Laird, with a quick amazement -in his eyes, sees a small and insignificant -person—he only catches a glimpse of a black dress -and a white face—suddenly clasped round in -the warm embrace of her friend. He stares -for a second; and then he exclaims—apparently -to himself:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me! What a shilpit bit thing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Pale—slight—delicate—tiny</em><span>: surely such a -master of idiomatic English cannot have -forgotten the existence of these words. But this -is all he cries to himself, in his surprise and -wonder:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me! What a shilpit bit thing!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="mary-avon"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MARY AVON.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The bright, frank laugh of her face!—the -friendly, unhesitating, affectionate look in those -soft black eyes! He forgot all about -Rosamond and Boadicea when he was presented to -this "shilpit" person. And when, instead of -the usual ceremony of introduction, she bravely -put her hand in his, and said she had often -heard of him from their common friend, he -did not notice that she was rather plain. He -did not even stop to consider in what degree -her Southern accent might be improved by -residence amongst the preservers of pure -English. He was anxious to know if she -was not greatly tired. He hoped the sea -had been smooth as the steamer came past -Easdale. And her luggage—should he look -after her luggage for her?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Miss Avon was an expert traveller, and -quite competent to look after her own luggage. -Even as he spoke, it was being hoisted on to -the waggonette.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will let me drive?" says she, eying -critically the two shaggy, farm-looking animals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed I shall do nothing of the kind," -says her hostess, promptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there was no disappointment at all on -her face as we drove away through the golden -evening—by the side of the murmuring shore, -past the overhanging fir-wood, up and across -the high land commanding a view of the wide -western seas. There was instead a look of -such intense delight that we knew, however -silent the lips might be, that the bird-soul was -singing within. Everything charmed her—the -cool, sweet air, the scent of the sea-weed, -the glow on the mountains out there in the -west. And as she chattered her delight to -us—like a bird escaped from its prison and -glad to get into the sunlight and free air -again—the Laird sate mute and listened. He -watched the frank, bright, expressive face. -He followed and responded to her every mood—with -a sort of fond paternal indulgence that -almost prompted him to take her hand. When -she smiled, he laughed. When she talked -seriously, he looked concerned. He was -entirely forgetting that she was a "shilpit bit -thing;" and he would have admitted that the -Southern way of speaking English—although, -no doubt, fallen away from the traditions of -the Northumbrian dialect—had, after all, a -certain music in it that made it pleasant to -the ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up the hill, then, with a flourish for the -last!—the dust rolling away in clouds behind -us—the view over the Atlantic widening as -we ascend. And here is Castle Osprey, as -we have dubbed the place, with its wide open -door, and its walls half hidden with -tree-fuchsias, and its great rose-garden. Had Fair -Rosamond herself come to Castle Osprey that -evening, she could not have been waited on -with greater solicitude than the Laird showed -in assisting this "shilpit bit thing" to -alight—though, indeed there was a slight stumble, -of which no one took any notice at the time. -He busied himself with her luggage quite -unnecessarily. He suggested a cup of tea, -though it wanted but fifteen minutes to -dinner-time. He assured her that the glass was -rising—which was not the case. And when -she was being hurried off to her own room to -prepare for dinner—by one who rules her -household with a rod of iron—he had the -effrontery to tell her to take her own time: -dinner could wait. The man actually proposed -to keep dinner waiting—in Castle Osprey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That this was love at first sight, who could -doubt? And perhaps the nimble brain of one -who was at this moment hurriedly dressing in -her own room—and whom nature has constituted -an indefatigable matchmaker—may have -been considering whether this rich old bachelor -might not marry, after all. And if he were to -marry, why should not he marry the young -lady in whom he seemed to have taken so -sudden and warm an interest? As for her: -Mary Avon was now two or three-and-twenty; -she was not likely to prove attractive to -young men; her small fortune was scarcely -worth considering; she was almost alone in -the world. Older men had married younger -women. The Laird had no immediate -relative to inherit Denny-mains and his very -substantial fortune. And would they not see -plenty of each other on board the yacht?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in her heart of hearts the schemer knew -better. She knew that the romance-chapter in -the Laird's life—and a bitter chapter it -was—had been finished and closed and put away -many and many a year ago. She knew how -the great disappointment of his life had failed -to sour him; how he was ready to share among -friends and companions the large and generous -heart that had been for a time laid at the feet -of a jilt; how his keen and active interest, that -might have been confined to his children and -his children's children, was now devoted to a -hundred things—the planting at Denny-mains, -the great heresy case, the patronage of young -artists, even the preservation of pure English, -and what not. And that fortunate young -gentleman—ostensibly his nephew—whom he -had sent to Harrow and to Cambridge, who -was now living a very easy life in the Middle -Temple, and who would no doubt come in for -Denny-mains? Well, we knew a little about -that young man, too. We knew why the -Laird, when he found that both the boy's -father and mother were dead, adopted him, -and educated him, and got him to call him -uncle. He had taken under his care the son -of the woman who had jilted him five-and-thirty -years ago; the lad had his mother's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now we are assembled in the drawing-room—all -except the new guest; and the glow -of the sunset is shining in at the open windows. -The Laird is eagerly proving to us that the -change from the cold east winds of Edinburgh -to the warm westerly winds of the Highlands -must make an immediate change in the young -lady's face—and declaring that she ought to -go on board the yacht at once—-and asserting -that the ladies' cabin on board the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> -is the most beautiful little cabin he ever saw—when——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When, behold! at the open door—meeting -the glow of the sunshine—appears a -figure—dressed all in black velvet, plain and unadorned -but for a broad belt of gold fringe that comes -round the neck and crosses the bosom. And -above that again is a lot of white muslin stuff, -on which the small, shapely, smooth-dressed -head seems gently to rest. The plain black -velvet dress gives a certain importance and -substantiality to the otherwise slight figure; -the broad fringe of gold glints and gleams as -she moves towards us; but who can even think -of these things when he meets the brave -glance of Mary Avon's eyes? She was -humming, as she came down the stair—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">For I'll come and see ye, in spite o' them a',</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>—we might have known it was the bird-soul -come among us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now the manner in which the Laird of -Denny-mains set about capturing the affections -of this innocent young thing—as he sate -opposite her at dinner—would have merited severe -reproof in one of less mature age; and might, -indeed, have been followed by serious -consequences but for the very decided manner in -which Miss Avon showed that she could take -care of herself. Whoever heard Mary Avon -laugh would have been assured. And she did -laugh a good deal; for the Laird, determined -to amuse her, was relating a series of -anecdotes which he called "good ones," and which -seemed to have afforded great enjoyment to -the people of the south of Scotland during -the last century or so. There was in especial -a Highland steward of a steamer about whom -a vast number of these stories was told; and -if the point was at times rather difficult to -catch, who could fail to be tickled by the -Laird's own and obvious enjoyment? "There -was another good one, Miss Avon," he would -say; and then the bare memory of the great -facetiousness of the anecdote would break out -in such half-suppressed guffaws as altogether -to stop the current of the narrative. Miss -Avon laughed—we could not quite tell whether -it was at the Highland steward or the Laird—until -the tears ran down her checks. Dinner -was scarcely thought of. It was a disgraceful -exhibition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was another good one about Homesh," -said the Laird, vainly endeavouring to -suppress his laughter. "He came up on deck -one enormously hot day, and looked ashore, -and saw some cattle standing knee-deep in a -pool of water. Says he—ha! ha! ha!—ho! ho! ho!—says -he—-says he—'</span><em class="italics">A wish a wass -a stot!</em><span>'—he! he! he!—ho! ho! ho!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course we all laughed heartily, and Mary -Avon more than any of us; but if she had -gone down on her knees and sworn that she -knew what the point of the story was, we -should not have believed her. But the Laird -was delighted. He went on with his good -ones. The mythical Homesh and his idiotic -adventures became portentous. The very -servants could scarcely carry the dishes -straight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in the midst of it all the Laird suddenly -let his knife and fork drop on his plate, -and stared. Then he quickly exclaimed—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless me! lassie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We saw in a second what had occasioned -his alarm. The girl's face had become ghastly -white; and she was almost falling away from -her chair when her hostess, who happened to -spring to her feet first, caught her, and held -her, and called for water. What could it -mean? Mary Avon was not of the sighing -and fainting fraternity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And presently she came to herself—and -faintly making apologies, would go from the -room. It was her ankle, she murmured—with -the face still white from pain. But when she -tried to rise, she fell back again: the agony -was too great. And so we had to carry her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About ten minutes thereafter the mistress -of the house came back to the Laird, who -had been sitting by himself, in great concern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That girl! that girl!" she exclaims—and -one might almost imagine there are tears in -her eyes. "Can you fancy such a thing! She -twists her ankle in getting down from the -waggonette—brings back the old sprain—perhaps -lames herself for life—and, in spite of the -pain, sits here laughing and joking, so that -she may not spoil our first evening together! -Did you ever hear of such a thing! Sitting -here laughing, with her ankle swelled so that -I had to cut the boot off!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gracious me!" says the Laird; "is it as -bad as that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if she should become permanently -lame—why—why——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But was she going to make an appeal direct -to the owner of Denny-mains? If the younger -men were not likely to marry a lame little -white-faced girl, that was none of his business. -The Laird's marrying days had departed -five-and-thirty years before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, we had to finish our dinner, -somehow, in consideration to our elder guest. -And then the surgeon came; and bound up -the ankle hard and fast; and Miss Avon, -with a thousand meek apologies for being so -stupid, declared again and again that her foot -would be all right in the morning, and that we -must get ready to start. And when her friend -assured her that this preliminary canter of -the yacht might just as well be put off for a -few days—until, for example, that young -doctor from Edinburgh came who had been -invited to go a proper cruise with us—her -distress was so great that we had to promise -to start next day punctually at ten. So she -sent us down again to amuse the Laird.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But hark! what is this we hear just as Denny-mains -is having his whisky and hot water brought -in? It is a gay voice humming on the stairs—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">By the margin of fair Zürich's waters.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"That girl!" cries her hostess angrily, as -she jumps to her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door opens; and here is Mary -Avon, with calm self-possession, making her -way to a chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew you wouldn't believe me," she -says coolly, "if I did not come down. I tell -you my foot is as well as may be; and -Dot-and-carry-one will get down to the yacht in -the morning as easily as any of you. And -that last story about Homesh," she says to -the Laird, with a smile in the soft black eyes -that must have made his heart jump. "Really, -sir, you must tell me the ending of that story; -it was so stupid of me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shilpit" she may have been; but the Laird, -for one, was beginning to believe that this girl -had the courage and nerve of a dozen men.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="under-way"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">UNDER WAY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The first eager glance out on this brilliant -and beautiful morning; and behold! it is all a -wonder of blue seas and blue skies that we -find before us, with Lismore lying golden-green -in the sunlight, and the great mountains -of Mull and Morven shining with the pale -etherial colours of the dawn. And what are -the rhymes that are ringing through one's -brain—the echo perchance of something heard -far away among the islands—the islands that -await our coming in the west?—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O land of red heather!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O land of wild weather,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And the cry of the waves, and the laugh of the breeze!</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O love, now, together</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Through the wind and wild weather</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">We spread our while sails to encounter the seas!</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Up and out, laggards, now; and hoist this -big red and blue and white thing up to the -head of the tall pole that the lads far below -may know to send the gig ashore for us! And -there, on the ruffled blue waters of the bay, -behold! the noble </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, with her great -mainsail, and mizzen, and jib, all set and glowing -in the sun; and the scarlet caps of the men -are like points of fire in this fair blue picture; -and the red ensign is fluttering in the light -north-westerly breeze. Breakfast is hurried -over; and a small person who has a passion -for flowers is dashing hither and thither in -the garden until she has amassed an armful -of our old familiar friends—abundant roses, -fuchsias, heart's-ease, various coloured -columbine, and masses of southernwood to scent -our floating saloon; the waggonette is at the -door, to take our invalid down to the landing-slip; -and the Laird has discarded his dignified -costume, and appears in a shooting-coat and -a vast gray wide-awake. As for Mary Avon, -she is laughing, chatting, singing, here, there, -and everywhere—giving us to understand that -a sprained ankle is rather a pleasure than -otherwise, and a great assistance in walking; -until the Laird pounces upon her—as one might -pounce on a butterfly—and imprisons her in -the waggonette, with many a serious warning -about her imprudence. There let her sing to -herself as she likes—amid the wild confusion -of things forgotten till the last moment and -thrust upon us just as we start.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And here is the stalwart and brown-bearded -Captain John—John of Skye we call -him—himself come ashore in the gig, in all his -splendour of blue and brass buttons; and he -takes off his peaked cap to the mistress of our -household—whom some of her friends call -Queen Titania, because of her midge-like -size—and he says to her with a smile—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And will Mrs. —— herself be going with -us this time?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That is Captain John's chief concern: for -he has a great regard for this domineering small -woman; and shows his respect for her, and his -own high notions of courtesy, by invariably -addressing her in the third person.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, John!" says she—and she can -look pleasant enough when she likes—"and -this is a young friend of mine, Miss Avon, whom -you have to take great care of on board."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Captain John takes off his cap again; -and is understood to tell the young lady that -he will do his best, if she will excuse his not -knowing much English. Then, with great -care, and with some difficulty, Miss Avon is -assisted down from the waggonette, and -conducted along the rough little landing-slip, and -helped into the stern of the shapely and shining -gig. Away with her, boys! The splash of -the oars is heard in the still bay; the shore -recedes; the white sails seem to rise higher -into the blue sky as we near the yacht; here -is the black hull with its line of gold—the -gangway open—the ropes ready—the white -decks brilliant in the sun. We are on board -at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And where will Mr. —— himself be for -going?" asks John of Skye, as the men are -hauling the gig up to the davits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. —— briefly but seriously explains to -the captain that, from some slight experience -of the winds on this coast, he has found it of -about as much use to order the tides to be -changed as to settle upon any definite route. -But he suggests the circumnavigation of the -adjacent island of Mull as a sort of preliminary -canter for a few days, until a certain notable -guest shall arrive; and he would prefer going -by the south, if the honourable winds will -permit. Further, John of Skye is not to be -afraid of a bit of sea, on account of either -of those ladies; both are excellent sailors. -With these somewhat vague instructions, -Captain John is left to get the yacht under -way; and we go below to look after the -stowage of our things in the various staterooms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And what is this violent altercation going -on, in the saloon?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will not have a word said against my -captain," says Mary Avon. "I am in love -with him already. His English is perfectly -correct."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This impertinent minx talking about correct -English in the presence of the Laird of -Denny-mains!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. —— herself is perfectly correct; -it is only politeness; it is like saying 'Your -Grace' to a Duke."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But who was denying it? Surely not the -imperious little woman who was arranging her -flowers on the saloon table; nor yet Denny-mains, -who was examining a box of variegated -and recondite fishing-tackle?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is all very well for fine ladies to laugh -at the blunders of servant maids," continues -this audacious girl. "'Miss Brown presents -her compliments to Miss Smith; and would -you be so kind,' and so on. But don't they -often make the same blunder themselves?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, this was a discovery!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Doesn't Mrs. So-and-So request the -honour of the company of Mr. So-and-So or -Miss So-and-So for some purpose or other; -and then you find at one corner of the card -'</span><em class="italics">R.S.V.P.</em><span>?' 'Answer if YOU please'!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A painful silence prevailed. We began to -reflect. Whom did she mean to charge with -this deadly crime?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But her triumph makes her considerate. -She will not harry us with scorn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is becoming far less common now, -however," she remarks. "'An answer is -requested,' is much more sensible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is English," says the Laird, with -decision. "Surely it must be more sensible -for an English person to write English. Ah -never use a French word maself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But what is the English that we hear now—called -out on deck by the voice of John of Skye?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eachan, slack the lee topping-lift! Ay, -and the tackle, too. That'll do, boys. Down -with your main-tack, now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," exclaims our sovereign mistress, -who knows something of nautical matters, -"we must have started!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there is a tumbling up the companion-way; -and lo! the land is slowly leaving us; and -there is a lapping of the blue water along -the side of the boat; and the white sails of -the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> are filled with this gentle -breeze. Deck-stools are arranged; books and -field-glasses and what not scattered about; -Mary Avon is helped on deck, and ensconced -in a snug little camp-chair. The days of our -summer idleness have begun.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as yet these are but familiar scenes -that steal slowly by—the long green island -of Lismore—</span><em class="italics">Lios-mor</em><span>, the Great Garden; the -dark ruins of Duart, sombre as if the shadow -of nameless tragedies rested on the crumbling -walls; Loch Don, with its sea-bird-haunted -shallows, and Loch Speliv leading up to the -awful solitudes of Glen More; then, stretching -far into the wreathing clouds, the long -rampart of precipices, rugged and barren and -lonely, that form the eastern wall of Mull.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is no monotony on this beautiful -summer morning; the scene changes every -moment, as the light breeze bears us away -to the south. For there is the Sheep Island; -and Garveloch—which is the rough island; -and Eilean-na naomha—which is the island -of the Saints. But what are these to the -small transparent cloud resting on the -horizon?—smaller than any man's hand. The day is -still; and the seas are smooth: cannot we -hear the mermaiden singing on the far shores -of Colonsay?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Colonsay!" exclaims the Laird, seizing a -field-glass. "Dear me! Is that Colonsay? -And they telled me that Tom Galbraith was -going there this very year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The piece of news fails to startle us -altogether; though we have heard the Laird -speak of Mr. Galbraith before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay," says he, "the world will know -something o' Colonsay when Tom Galbraith gets -there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whom did you say?" Miss Avon asks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Galbraith!" says he. "Tom Galbraith!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird stares in amazement. Is it -possible she has not heard of Tom Galbraith? -And she herself an artist; and coming direct -from Edinburgh, where she has been living -for two whole months!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gracious me!" says the Laird. "Ye do -not say ye have never heard of Galbraith—he's -an Academeecian!—a Scottish Academeecian!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes; no doubt," she says, rather -bewildered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no one living has had such an -influence on our Scotch school of painters -as Galbraith—a man of great abeelity—a man -of great and uncommon abeelity—he is one -of the most famous landscape painters of our -day——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I scarcely met any one in Edinburgh," -she pleads.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But in London—in London!" exclaims -the astonished Laird. "Do ye mean to say -you never heard o' Tom Galbraith?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I think not," she confesses. "I—I -don't remember his name in the Academy -catalogue——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Royal Academy!" cries the Laird, -with scorn. "No, no! Ye need not expect -that. The English Academy is afraid of the -Scotchmen: their pictures are too strong: -you do not put good honest whisky beside -small beer. I say the English Academy is -afraid of the Scotch school——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But flesh and blood can stand this no -longer: we shall not have Mary Avon -trampled upon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Denny-mains: we always -thought there was a Scotchman or two in -the Royal Academy itself—and quite capable -of holding their own there, too. Why, the -President of the Academy is a Scotchman! -And as for the Academy exhibition, the very -walls are smothered with Scotch hills, Scotch -spates, Scotch peasants, to say nothing of -the thousand herring-smacks of Tarbert."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell ye they are afraid of Tom Galbraith; -they will not exhibit one of his -pictures," says the Laird, stubbornly; and -here the discussion is closed; for Master Fred -tinkles his bell below, and we have to go -down for luncheon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was most unfair of the wind to take -advantage of our absence, and to sneak off, -leaving us in a dead calm. It was all very -well, when we came on deck again, to watch -the terns darting about in their swallow-like -fashion, and swooping down to seize a fish; -and the strings of sea-pyots whirring by, with -their scarlet beaks and legs; and the sudden -shimmer and hissing of a part of the blue -plain, where a shoal of mackerel had come -to the surface; but where were we, now -in the open Atlantic, to pass the night? -We relinquished the doubling of the Ross -of Mull; we should have been content—more -than content, for the sake of auld -lang syne—to have put into Carsaig; we -were beginning even to have ignominious -thoughts of Loch Buy. And yet we let -the golden evening draw on with comparative -resignation; and we watched the colour -gathering in the west, and the Atlantic -taking darker hues, and a ruddy tinge -beginning to tell on the seamed ridges of -Garveloch and the isle of Saints. When -the wind sprung up again—it had backed to -due west, and we had to beat against it with -a series of long tacks, that took us down -within sight of Islay and back to Mull -apparently all for nothing—we were deeply -engaged in prophesying all manner of things -to be achieved by one Angus Sutherland, an -old friend of ours, though yet a young man -enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just fancy, sir!" says our hostess to the -Laird—the Laird, by the way, does not seem -so enthusiastic as the rest of us, when he hears -that this hero of modern days is about to join -our party. "What he has done beats all that I -ever heard about Scotch University students; -and you know what some of them have -accomplished in the face of difficulties. His -father is a minister in some small place in -Banffshire; perhaps he has 200*l.* a year at -the outside. This son of his has not cost him -a farthing for either his maintenance or his -education, since he was fourteen; he took -bursaries, scholarships, I don't know what, when -he was a mere lad; supported himself and -travelled all over Europe—but I think it was -at Leipsic and at Vienna he studied longest; -and the papers he has written—the lectures—and -the correspondence with all the great -scientific people—when they made him a -Fellow, all he said was, 'I wish my mother -was alive.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was rather an incoherent and jumbled -account of a young man's career.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A Fellow of what?" says the Laird.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A Fellow of the Royal Society! They -made him a Fellow of the Royal Society last -year! And he is only seven-and-twenty! I -do believe he was not over one-and-twenty -when he took his degree at Edinburgh. And -then—and then—there is really nothing that he -doesn't know: is there, Mary?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This sudden appeal causes Mary Avon to -flush slightly; but she says demurely, looking -down—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course I don't know anything that he -doesn't know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hm!" says the Laird, who does not seem -over pleased. "I have observed that young -men who are too brilliant at the first, seldom -come to much afterwards. Has he gained -anything substantial? Has he a good practice? -Does he keep his carriage yet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" says our hostess, with a fine -contempt for such things. "He has a higher -ambition than that. His practice is almost -nothing. He prefers to sacrifice that in the -meantime. But his reputation—among the -scientific—why—why, it is European!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hm!" says the Laird. "I have sometimes -seen that persons who gave themselves up -to erudeetion, lost the character of human -beings altogether. They become scientific -machines. The world is just made up of books -for them—and lectures—they would not give a -halfpenny to a beggar for fear of poleetical -economy——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how can you say such a thing of -Angus Sutherland!" says she—though he has -said no such thing of Angus Sutherland. -"Why, here is this girl who goes to Edinburgh—all -by herself—to nurse an old woman in her -last illness; and as Angus Sutherland is in -Edinburgh on some business—connected with -the University, I believe—I ask him to call -on her and see if he can give her any advice. -What does he do? He stops in Edinburgh -two months—editing that scientific magazine -there instead of in London—and all because -he has taken an interest in the old woman -and thinks that Mary should not have the -whole responsibility on her shoulders. Is that -like a scientific machine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," says the Laird, with a certain calm -grandeur; "you do not often find young men -doing that for the sake of an old woman." But -of course we don't know what he means.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I am so glad he is coming to us!" -she says, with real delight in her face. "We -shall take him away from his microscopes, and -his societies, and all that. Oh, and he is such -a delightful companion—so simple, and natural, -and straightforward! Don't you think so, Mary?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Avon is understood to assent: she -does not say much—she is so deeply interested -in a couple of porpoises that appear from time -to time on the smooth plain on the sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure a long holiday would do him a -world of good," says this eager hostess; "but -that is too much to expect. He is always too -busy. I think he has got to go over to Italy -soon, about some exhibition of surgical -instruments, or something of that sort."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We had plenty of further talk about -Dr. Sutherland, and of the wonderful future that -lay before him, that evening before we finally -put into Loch Buy. And there we dined; and -after dinner we found the wan, clear twilight -filling the northern heavens, over the black -range of mountains, and throwing a silver glare -on the smooth sea around us. We could have -read on deck at eleven at night—-had that -been necessary; but Mary Avon was humming -snatches of songs to us, and the Laird was -discoursing of the wonderful influence exerted -on Scotch landscape-art by Tom Galbraith. -Then in the south the yellow moon rose; -and a golden lane of light lay on the sea, from -the horizon across to the side of the yacht; -and there was a strange glory on the decks -and on the tall, smooth masts. The peace -of that night!—the soft air, the silence, the -dreamy lapping of the water!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And whatever lies before Angus Sutherland," -says one of us—"whether a baronetcy, -or a big fortune, or marriage with an Italian -princess—he won't find anything better than -sailing in the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> among the western -islands."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-message"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A MESSAGE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>What fierce commotion is this that awakes -us in the morning—what pandemonium broken -loose of wild storm-sounds—-with the stately -</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, ordinarily the most sedate and -gentle of her sex, apparently gone mad, and -flinging herself about as if bent on -somersaults? When one clambers up the -companion-way, clinging hard, and puts one's -head out into the gale, behold! there is not -a trace of land visible anywhere—nothing but -whirling clouds of mist and rain; and -mountain-masses of waves that toss the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> -about as if she were a plaything; and decks -all running wet with the driven spray. John -of Skye, clad from head to heel in black -oilskins—and at one moment up in the clouds, -the next moment descending into the great -trough of the sea—-hangs on to the rope that -is twisted round the tiller; and laughs a -good-morning; and shakes the salt water from his -shaggy eyebrows and beard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hallo! John—where on earth have we got to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I say WHERE ARE WE?" is shouted, for -the roar of the rushing Atlantic in deafening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Deed I not think we are far from Loch -Buy," says John of Skye, grimly. "The wind -is dead ahead of us—ay, shist dead ahead!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What made you come out against a headwind then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When we cam' out," says John—picking -his English, "the wind will be from the norse—ay, -a fine light breeze from the norse. And -will Mr. —— himself be for going on now? -it is a ferry bad sea for the leddies—a ferry -coorse sea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it appears that this conversation—bawled -aloud—has been overheard. There -are voices from below. The skylight of the -ladies' cabin is partly open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't mind us," calls Mary Avon. "Go -on by all means!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other voice calls—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why can't you keep this fool of a boat -straight? Ask him when we shall be into -the Sound of Iona."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One might as well ask him when we shall -be into the Sound of Jericho or Jerusalem. -With half a gale of wind right in our teeth, -and with the heavy Atlantic swell running, -we might labour here all day—and all the night -too—without getting round the Ross of Mull. -There is nothing for it but to turn and run, -that we may have our breakfast in peace. Let -her away, then, you brave John of Skye!—slack -out the main-sheet, and give her plenty -of it, too: then at the same moment Sandy -from Islay perceives that a haul at the weather -topping-lift will clear the boom from the davits; -and now—and now, good Master Fred—our -much-esteemed and shifty Friedrich d'or—if -you will but lay the cloth on the table, we -will help you to steady the dancing -phantasmagoria of plates and forks!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me!" says the Laird, when we are -assembled together, "it has been an awful -night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I hope you have not been ill!" says -his hostess, with a quick concern in the soft, -clear eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He does not look as if he had suffered -much. He is contentedly chipping an egg; -and withal keeping an eye on the things near -him, for the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, still plunging a good -deal, threatens at times to make of everything -on the table a movable feast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, ma'am, not ill," he says. "But -at my time of life, ye see, one is not as light -in weight as one used to be; and the way I -was flung about in that cabin last night was -just extraordinary. When I was trying to -put on my boots this morning, I am sure I -resembled nothing so much as a pea in a -bladder—indeed it was so—I was knocked -about like a pea in a bladder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course we expressed great sympathy, -and assured him that the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>—famed -all along this coast for her sober and steady-going -behaviour—would never act so any more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"However," said he thoughtfully, "the -wakefulness of the night is often of use to -people. Yes, I have come to a decision."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were somewhat alarmed: was he going -to leave us merely because of this bit of -tossing?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dare say ye know, ma'am," says he -slowly, "that I am one of the Commissioners -of the Burgh of Strathgovan. It is a poseetion -of grave responsibility. This very question -now—about our getting a steam fire-engine—has -been weighing on my mind for many a -day. Well, I have decided I will no longer -oppose it. They may have the steam -fire-engine as far as I am concerned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We felt greatly relieved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," continued the Laird, solemnly, "I -think I am doing my duty in this matter as a -public man should—laying aside his personal -prejudice. But the cost of it! Do ye know -that we shall want bigger nozzles to all the -fire-plugs?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Matters were looking grave again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"However," said the Laird cheerfully—for -he would not depress us too much, "it may -all turn out for the best; and I will telegraph -my decision to Strathgovan as soon as ever -the storm allows us to reach a port."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The storm, indeed! When we scramble -up on deck again, we find that it is only a -brisk sailing breeze we have; and the </span><em class="italics">White -Dove</em><span> is bowling merrily along, flinging high -the white spray from her bows. And then -we begin to see that, despite those driving -mists around us, there is really a fine clear -summer day shining far above this twopenny-halfpenny -tempest. The whirling mists break -here and there; and we catch glimpses of a -placid blue sky, flecked with lines of motionless -cirrhus cloud. The breaks increase; floods -of sunshine fall on the gleaming decks; clearer -and clearer become the vast precipices of -southern Mull; and then, when we get well -to the lee of Eilean-straid-ean, behold! the -blue seas around us once more; and the blue -skies overhead; and the red ensign fluttering -in the summer breeze. No wonder that Mary -Avon sings her delight—as a linnet sings after -the rain; and though the song is not meant -for us at all, but is really hummed to herself -as she clings on to the shrouds and watches -the flashing and dipping of the white-winged -gulls, we know that it is all about a jolly -young waterman. The audacious creature: -John of Skye has a wife and four children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Too quickly indeed does the fair summer -day go by—as we pass the old familiar Duart -and begin to beat up the Sound of Mull -against a fine light sailing breeze. By the -time we have reached Ardtornish, the Laird -has acquired some vague notion as to how -the gaff topsail is set. Opposite the -dark-green woods of Funeray, he tells us of the -extraordinary faculty possessed by Tom -Galbraith of representing the texture of foliage. -At Salen we have Master Fred's bell -summoning us down to lunch; and thereafter, on -deck, coffee, draughts, crochet, and a -profoundly interesting description of some of the -knotty points in the great Semple heresy case. -And here again, as we bear away over almost -to the mouth of Loch Sunart, is the open -Atlantic—of a breezy grey under the -lemon-colour and silver of the calm evening sky. -What is the use of going on against this -contrary wind, and missing, in the darkness -of the night, all the wonders of the western -islands that the Laird is anxious to see? We -resolve to run into Tobermory; and by and -by we find ourselves under the shadow of the -wooded rocks, with the little white town -shining along the semicircle of the bay. And -very cleverly indeed does John of Skye cut -in among the various craft—showing off a -little bit, perhaps—until the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> is -brought up to the wind, and the great -anchor-cable goes out with a roar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now it was by the merest accident that we -got at Tobermory a telegram that had been -forwarded that very day to meet us on our -return voyage. There was no need for any -one to go ashore, for we were scarcely in port -before a most praiseworthy gentleman was so -kind as to send us on board a consignment -of fresh flowers, vegetables, milk, eggs, and -so forth—the very things that become of -inestimable value to yachting people. However, -we had two women on board; and of course—despite -a certain bandaged ankle—they must -needs go shopping. And Mary Avon, when -we got ashore, would buy some tobacco for -her favourite Captain John; and went into -the post-office for that purpose, and was having -the black stuff measured out by the yard when -some mention was made of the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>. -Then a question was asked; there was a -telegram; it was handed to Miss Avon, who -opened it and read it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said she, looking rather concerned; -and then she regarded her friend with some -little hesitation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is my uncle," she says; "he wants to -see me on very urgent business. He is—coming—to -see me—the day after to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Blank consternation followed this announcement. -This person, even though he was -Mary Avon's sole surviving relative, was quite -intolerable to us. East Wind we had called -him in secret, on the few occasions on which -he had darkened our doors. And just as we -were making up our happy family party—with -the Laird, and Mary, and Angus -Sutherland—to sail away to the far Hebrides, -here was this insufferable creature—with his -raucous voice, his washed-out eyes, his pink -face, his uneasy manner, and general groom -or butler-like appearance—thrusting himself on us!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you know, Mary," says her hostess—entirely -concealing her dismay in her -anxious politeness—"we shall almost -certainly be home by the day after to-morrow, if -we get any wind at all. So you had better -telegraph to your uncle to come on to Castle -Osprey, and to wait for you if you are not -there; we cannot be much longer than that. -And Angus Sutherland will be there; he will -keep him company until we arrive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So that was done, and we went on board -again—one of us meanwhile vowing to -himself that ere ever Mr. Frederick Smethurst -set sail with us on board the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, a -rifle-bullet through her hull would send that -gallant vessel to the lobsters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now what do you think our Mary Avon -set to work to do—all during this beautiful -summer evening, as we sat on deck and eyed -curiously the other craft in the bay, or watched -the firs grow dark against the silver-yellow -twilight? We could not at first make out -what she was driving at. Her occupation in -the world, so far as she had any—beyond -being the pleasantest of companions and the -faithfullest of friends—was the painting of -landscapes in oil, not the construction of -Frankenstein monsters. But here she begins -by declaring to us that there is one type of -character that has never been described by -any satirist, or dramatist, or fictionist—a -common type, too, though only becoming -pronounced in rare instances. It is the moral -Tartuffe, she declares—the person who is -through and through a hypocrite, not to cloak -evil doings, but only that his eager love of -approbation may be gratified. Look now how -this creature of diseased vanity, of plausible -manners, of pretentious humbug, rises out of -the smoke like the figure summoned by a -wizard's wand! As she gives us little touches -here and there of the ways of this professor -of bonhomie—this bundle of affectations—we -begin to prefer the most diabolical villainy -that any thousand of the really wicked -Tartuffes could have committed. He grows and -grows. His scraps of learning, as long as -those more ignorant than himself are his -audience; his mock humility anxious for -praise; his parade of generous and sententious -sentiment; his pretence—pretence—pretence—all -arising from no evil machinations -whatever, but from a morbid and restless -craving for esteem. Hence, horrible shadow! -Let us put out the candles and get to bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But next morning, as we find ourselves out -on the blue Atlantic again, with Ru-na-Gaul -lighthouse left far behind, and the pale line -of Coll at the horizon, we begin to see why -the skill and patient assiduity of this amateur -psychologist should have raised that ghost for -us the night before. Her uncle is coming. -He is not one of the plausible kind. And if -it should be necessary to invite him on board, -might we not the more readily tolerate his -cynical bluntness and rudeness, after we have -been taught to abhor as the hatefullest of -mortals the well-meaning hypocrite whose -vanity makes his life a bundle of small lies? -Very clever indeed, Miss Avon—very clever. -But don't you raise any more ghosts; they -are unpleasant company—even as an antidote. -And now, John of Skye, if it must be that -we are to encounter this pestilent creature at -the end of our voyage, clap on all sail now, -and take us right royally down through these -far islands of the west. Ah! do we not know -them of old? Soon as we get round the -Cailleach Point we descry the nearest of them -amid the loneliness of the wide Atlantic sea. -For there is Carnaburg, with her spur of rock; -and Fladda, long and rugged, and bare; and -Lunga, with her peak; and the Dutchman's -Cap—a pale blue in the south. How bravely -the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> swings on her way—springing -like a bird over the western swell! And as -we get past Ru-Treshnish, behold! another -group of islands—Gometra and the green-shored -Ulva, that guard the entrance to Loch -Tua; and Colonsay, the haunt of the sea -birds; and the rock of Erisgeir—all shining -in the sun. And then we hear a strange -sound—different from the light rush of the -waves—a low, and sullen, and distant booming, -such as one faintly hears in a sea-shell. -As the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> ploughs on her way, we -come nearer and nearer to this wonder of the -deep—the ribbed and fantastic shores of Staffa; -and we see how the great Atlantic rollers, -making for the cliffs of Gribun and Burg, -are caught by those outer rocks and torn into -masses of white foam, and sent roaring and -thundering into the blackness of the caves. -We pass close by; the air trembles with the -shock of that mighty surge; there is a mist -of spray rising into the summer air. And -then we sail away again; and the day wears -on as the white-winged </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> bounds -over the heavy seas; and Mary Avon—as we -draw near the Ross of Mull, all glowing in the -golden evening—is singing a song of Ulva.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there is no time for romance, as the -</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> (drawing eight feet of water) -makes in for the shallow harbour outside -Bunessan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Down foresail!" calls out our John of -Skye; and by and by her head comes up to -the wind, the great mainsail flapping in the -breeze. And again, "Down chub, boys!" and -there is another rattle and roar amid the -silence of this solitary little bay. The herons -croak their fright and fly away on heavy -wing; the curlews whistle shrilly; the -sea-pyots whirr along the lonely shores. And -then our good Friedrich d'or sounds his -silver-toned bell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stillness of this summer evening on -deck; the glory deepening over the wide -Atlantic; the delightful laughter of the Laird -over those "good ones" about Homesh; the -sympathetic glance of Mary Avon's soft black -eyes: did we not value them all the more -that we knew we had something far different -to look forward to? Even as we idled away -the beautiful and lambent night, we had a -vague consciousness that our enemy was -stealthily drawing near. In a day or two at -the most we should find the grim spectre of -the East Wind in the rose-garden of Castle Osprey.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-brave-career"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A BRAVE CAREER.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Bur when we went on deck the next morning -we forgot all about the detestable person -who was about to break in upon our peace -(there was small chance that our faithful Angus -Sutherland might encounter the snake in this -summer paradise, and trample on him, and -pitch him out; for this easy way of getting -rid of disagreeable folk is not permitted in -the Highlands nowadays) as we looked on -the beautiful bay shining all around us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me!" said Denny-mains, "if Tom -Galbraith could only see that now! It is a -great peety he has never been to this place. -I'm thinking I must write to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird did not remember that we had -an artist on board—one who, if she was not -so great an artist as Mr. Galbraith, had at -least exhibited one or two small landscapes -in oil at the Royal Academy. But then the -Academicians, though they might dread the -contrast between their own work and that of -Tom Galbraith, could have no fear of Mary Avon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And even Mr. Galbraith himself might have -been puzzled to find among his pigments any -equivalent for the rare and clear colours of -this morning scene as now we sailed away -from Bunessan with a light topsail breeze. -How blue the day was—blue skies, blue seas, -a faint transparent blue along the cliffs of -Burg and Gribun, a darker blue where the -far Ru-Treshanish ran out into the sea, a -shadow of blue to mark where the caves of -Staffa retreated from the surface of the -sun-brown rocks! And here, nearer at hand, the -warmer colours of the shore—the soft, velvety -olive-greens of the moss and breckan; the -splashes of lilac where the rocks were bare -of herbage; the tender sunny reds where the -granite promontories ran out to the sea; the -beautiful cream-whites of the sandy bays!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here, too, are the islands again as we get -out into the open—Gometra, with its one white -house at the point; and Inch Kenneth, where -the seals show their shining black heads among -the shallows; and Erisgeir and Colonsay, where -the skarts alight to dry their wings on the -rocks; and Staffa, and Lunga, and the -Dutchman, lying peaceful enough now on the calm -blue seas. We have time to look at them, -for the wind is slight, and the broad-beamed -</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> is not a quick sailer in a light -breeze. The best part of the forenoon is -over before we find ourselves opposite to the -gleaming white sands of the northern bays -of Iona.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely both of us together will be able -to make him stay longer than ten days," says -the elder of the two women to the younger—and -you may be sure she was not speaking -of East Wind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Avon looks up with a start; then -looks down again—perhaps with the least -touch of colour in her face—as she says -hurriedly—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I think you will. He is your friend. -As for me—you see—I—I scarcely know him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Mary!" says the other reproachfully. -"You have been meeting him constantly all -these two months; you must know him better -than any of us. I am sure I wish he was on -board now—he could tell us all about the -geology of the islands, and what not. It will -be delightful to have somebody on board who -knows something."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such is the gratitude of women!—and the -Laird had just been describing to her some -further points of the famous heresy case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then he knows Gaelic!" says the -elder woman. "He will tell us what all the -names of the islands mean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," says the younger one, "he -understands Gaelic very well, though he cannot -speak much of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I think he is very fond of boats," -remarks our hostess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, exceedingly—exceedingly!" says the -other, who, if she does not know Angus -Sutherland, seems to have picked up some -information about him somehow. "You -cannot imagine how he has been looking forward -to sailing with you; he has scarcely had any -holiday for years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then he must stay longer than ten days," -says the elder woman; adding with a smile, -"you know, Mary, it is not the number of -his patients that will hurry him back to London."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but I assure you," says Miss Avon -seriously, "that he is not at all anxious to -have many patients—as yet! Oh, no!—I -never knew any one who was so indifferent -about money. I know he would live on bread -and water—if that were necessary—to go on -with his researches. He told me himself that -all the time he was at Leipsic his expenses -were never more than 1*l.* a week."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She seemed to know a good deal about the -circumstances of this young F.R.S.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at what he has done with those -anæsthetics," continues Miss Avon. "Isn't it -better to find out something that does good -to the whole world than give yourself up to -making money by wheedling a lot of old women?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This estimate of the physician's art was not -flattering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," she says warmly, "if the Government -had any sense, that is just the sort of man -they would put in a position to go on with -his invaluable work. And Oxford and Cambridge, -with all their wealth, they scarcely even -recognise the noblest profession that a man -can devote himself to—when even the poor -Scotch Universities and the Universities all -over Europe have always had their medical -and scientific chairs. I think it is perfectly -disgraceful!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Since when had she become so strenuous -an advocate of the endowment of research?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, look at Dr. Sutherland—when he is -burning to get on with his own proper -work—when his name is beginning to be known all -over Europe—he has to fritter away his time -in editing a scientific magazine and in those -hospital lectures. And that, I suppose, is -barely enough to live on. But I know," she -says, with decision, "that in spite of everything—I -know that before he is five-and-thirty, he -will be President of the British Association."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here, indeed, is a brave career for the Scotch -student: cannot one complete the sketch as it -roughly exists in the minds of those two women?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At twenty-one, B.M. of Edinburgh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At twenty-six, F.R.S.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At thirty, Professor of Biology at Oxford: -the chair founded through the intercession of -the women of Great Britain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At thirty-five, President of the British Association.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At forty, a baronetcy, for further discoveries -in the region of anæsthetics.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At forty-five, consulting physician to half the -gouty old gentlemen of England, and amassing -an immense fortune.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At fifty——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, at fifty, is it not time that "the poor -Scotch student," now become great and famous -and wealthy, should look around for some -beautiful princess to share his high estate with -him? He has not had time before to think -of such matters. But what is this now? Is -it that microscopes and test-tubes have dimmed -his eyes? Is it that honours and responsibilities -have silvered his hair? Or, is the -drinking deep of the Pactolus stream a deadly -poison? There is no beautiful princess awaiting -him anywhere. He is alone among his -honours. There was once a beautiful -princess—beautiful-souled and tender-eyed, if not -otherwise too lovely—awaiting him among the -Western Seas; but that time is over and gone -many a year ago. The opportunity has passed. -Ambition called him away, and he left her; -and the last he saw of her was when he bade -good-bye to the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What have we to do with these idle dreams? -We are getting within sight of Iona village -now; and the sun is shining on the green -shores, and on the ruins of the old cathedral, -and on that white house just above the -cornfield. And as there is no good anchorage -about the island, we have to make in for a -little creek on the Mull side of the Sound, -called Polterriv, or the Bull-hole; and this -creek is narrow, tortuous, and shallow; and -a yacht drawing eight feet of water has to be -guided with some circumspection—especially -if you go up to the inner harbour above the -rock called the Little Bull. And so we make -inquiries of John of Skye, who has not been -with us here before. It is even hinted, that -if he is not quite sure of the channel, we might -send the gig over to Iona for John Macdonald, -who is an excellent pilot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"John Macdonald!" exclaims John of Skye, -whose professional pride has been wounded. -"Will John Macdonald be doing anything -more than I wass do myself in the -Bull-hole—ay, last year—last year I will tek my own -smack out of the Bull-hole at the norse end, -and ferry near low water, too; and her -deep-loaded? Oh, yes, I will be knowing the -Bull-hole this many a year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And John of Skye is as good as his word. -Favoured by a flood-tide, we steal gently into -the unfrequented creek, behind the great rocks -of red granite; and so extraordinarily clear is -the water that, standing upright on the deck, -we can see the white sand of the bottom with -shoals of young saithe darting this way and -that. And then just as we get opposite an -opening in the rocks, through which we can -descry the northern shores of Iona, and above -those the blue peak of the Dutchman, away -goes the anchor with a short, quick rush; her -head swings round to meet the tide; the </span><em class="italics">White -Dove</em><span> is safe from all the winds that blow. Now -lower away the gig, boys, and bear us over -the blue waters of the Sound!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am really afraid to begin," Mary Avon -says, as we remonstrate with her for not -having touched a colour-tube since she started. -"Besides, you know, I scarcely look on it that -we have really set out yet. This is only a -sort of shaking ourselves into our places; I -am only getting accustomed to the ways of -our cabin now. I shall scarcely consider that -we have started on our real voyaging until——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh, yes, we know very well. Until we have -got Angus Sutherland on board. But what -she really said was, after slight hesitation:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"——until we set out for the Northern Hebrides."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, it's a good thing to feel nervous about -beginning," says the Laird, as the long sweep -of the four oars brings us nearer and nearer to -the Iona shores. "I have often heard Tom -Galbraith say that to the younger men. He -says if a young man is over confident, he'll come -to nothing. But there was a good one I once -heard Galbraith tell about a young man that -was pentin at Tarbert—that's Tarbert on Loch -Fyne, Miss Avon. Ay, well, he was pentin -away, and he was putting in the young lass -of the house as a fisher-lass; and he asked -her if she could not get a creel to strap on -her back, as a background for her head, ye -know. Well, says she——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here the fierce humour of the story began -to bubble up in the Laird's blue-grey eyes. -We were all half laughing already. It was -impossible to resist the glow of delight on the -Laird's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Says she—just as pat as ninepence—says -she, 'it's your ain head that wants a creel!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The explosion was inevitable. The roar of -laughter at this good one was so infectious -that a subdued smile played over the rugged -features of John of Skye. "</span><em class="italics">It's your ain head -that wants a creel:</em><span>" the Laird laughed, and -laughed again, until the last desperately -suppressed sounds were something like -</span><em class="italics">kee! kee! kee!</em><span> Even Mary Avon pretended to understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was a real good one," says he, -obviously overjoyed to have so appreciative -an audience, "that I mind of reading in the -Dean's </span><em class="italics">Reminiscences</em><span>. It was about an old -leddy in Edinburgh who met in a shop a -young officer she had seen before. He was -a tall young man, and she eyed him from head -to heel, and says she—ha! ha!—says she, -'</span><em class="italics">Od, ye're a lang lad: God gie ye grace.</em><span>' Dry—very -dry—wasn't it? There was real -humour in that—a pawky humour that people -in the South cannot understand at all. '</span><em class="italics">Od</em><span>', -says she, '</span><em class="italics">ye're a lang lad: God grant ye -grace.</em><span>' There was a great dale of character -in that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were sure of it; but still we preferred -the Laird's stories about Homesh. We -invariably liked best the stories at which the -Laird laughed most—whether we quite -understood their pawky humour or not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dr. Sutherland has a great many stories -about the Highlanders," says Miss Avon -timidly; "they are very amusing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As far as I have observed," remarked the -Laird—for how could he relish the notion of -having a rival anecdote-monger on -board?—"as far as I have observed, the Highland -character is entirely without humour. Ay, I -have heard Tom Galbraith say that very -often, and he has been everywhere in the -Highlands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then," says Mary Avon, with a quick -warmth of indignation in her face—how rapidly -those soft dark eyes could change their -expression!—"I hope Mr. Galbraith knows more -about painting than he knows about the -Highlanders! I thought that anybody who knows -anything knows that the Celtic nature is full -of imagination, and humour, and pathos, and -poetry; and the Saxon—the Saxon!—it is his -business to plod over ploughed fields, and be -as dull and commonplace as the other animals -he sees there!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gracious goodness!—here was a tempest! -The Laird was speechless; for, indeed, at this -moment we bumped against the sacred shores—that -is to say, the landing-slip—of Iona; and -had to scramble on to the big stones. Then -we walked up and past the cottages, and -through the potato-field, and past the white -inn, and so to the hallowed shrine and its -graves of the kings. We spent the whole of -the afternoon there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we got back to the yacht and to -dinner we discovered that a friend had visited -us in our absence, and had left of his largesse -behind him—nasturtiums and yellow-and-white -pansies, and what not—to say nothing of fresh -milk, and crisp, delightful lettuce. We drank -his health.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was it the fear of some one breaking -in on our domestic peace that made that -last evening among the western islands so -lovely to us? We went out in the gig after -dinner; the Laird put forth his engines of -destruction to encompass the innocent lythe; -we heard him humming the "Haughs o' Cromdale" -in the silence. The wonderful glory of -that evening!—Iona become an intense -olive-green against the gold and crimson of the -sunset; the warm light shining along the red -granite of western Mull. Then the yellow -moon rose in the south—into the calm -violet-hued vault of the heavens; and there was a -golden fire on the ripples and on the wet -blades of the oars as we rowed back with -laughter and singing.</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Sing tantara! sing tantara!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Sing tantara! sing tantara!</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Said he, the Highland army rues</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">That ere they came to Cromdale!</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And then, next morning, we were up at five -o'clock. If we were going to have a tooth -pulled, why not have the little interview over -at once? East Wind would be waiting for us -at Castle Osprey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Blow, soft westerly breeze, then, and bear us -down by Fion-phort, and round the granite -Ross—shining all a pale red in the early dawn. -And here is Ardalanish Point; and there, as -the morning goes by, are the Carsaig arches, -and then Loch Buy, and finally the blue Firth -of Lorn. Northward now, and still -northward—until, far away, the white house shining -amidst the firs, and the flag fluttering in the -summer air. Have they descried us, then? -Or is the bunting hoisted in honour of guests? -The pale cheek of Mary Avon tells a tale as -she descries that far signal; but that is no -business of ours. Perhaps it is only of her -uncle that she is thinking.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="our-new-guests"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">OUR NEW GUESTS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Behold, now!—this beautiful garden of -Castle Osprey all ablaze in the sun—the roses, -pansies, poppies, and what not bewildering our -eyes after the long looking at the blue water -and, in the midst of the brilliant paradise—just -as we had feared—the snake! He did not -scurry away at our approach, as snakes are -wont to do; or raise his horrent head, and -hiss. The fact is, we found him comfortably -seated under a drooping ash, smoking. He -rose and explained that he had strolled up -from the shore to await our coming. He did -not seem to notice that Mary Avon, as she -came along, had to walk slowly, and was -leaning on the arm of the Laird.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Certainly nature had not been bountiful to -this short, spare person who had now come -among us. He had closely-cropped, coarse grey -hair; an eagle beak; a certain pink and raw -appearance of the face, as if perpetual east winds -had chafed the skin; and a most pernicious -habit of loudly clearing his husky throat. -Then with the aggressive nose went a -well-defined pugilist's jaw and a general hang-dog -scowl about the mouth. For the rest -Mr. Smethurst seemed desirous of making up for -those unpleasant features which nature had -bestowed upon him by a studied air of -self-possession, and by an extreme precision of -dress. Alack, and well-a-day! these laudable -efforts were of little avail. Nature was too -strong for him. The assumption of a languid -air was not quite in consonance with the -ferrety grey eyes and the bull-dog mouth; -the precision of his costume only gave him -the look of a well-dressed groom, or a butler -gone on the turf. There was not much grateful -to the sight about Mr. Frederick Smethurst.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But were we to hate the man for being ugly? -Despite his raw face, he might have the white -soul of an angel. And in fact we knew -absolutely nothing against his public character or -private reputation, except that he had once -gone through the Bankruptcy Court; and -even of that little circumstance our -womenfolk were not aware. However, there was no -doubt at all that a certain coldness—apparent -to us who knew her well—marked the manner -of this small lady who now went up and shook -hands with him, and declared—unblushingly—that -she was so glad he had run up to -the Highlands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you know," said she, with that -charming politeness which she would show to the -arch-fiend himself if he were properly -introduced to her, "you know, Mr. Smethurst, that -yachting is such an uncertain thing, one never -knows when one may get back; but if you -could spare a few days to take a run with us, -you would see what a capital mariner Mary -has become, and I am sure it would be a -great pleasure to us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These were actually her words. She uttered -them without the least tremor of hesitation. -She looked him straight in the face with those -clear, innocent, confiding eyes of hers. How -could the man tell that she was wishing him -at Jericho?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it was in silence that we waited to -hear our doom pronounced. A yachting -trip with this intolerable Jonah on board! -The sunlight went out of the day; the blue -went out of the sky and the seas; the -world was filled with gloom, and chaos, and -East Wind!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Imagine, then, the sudden joy with which -we heard of our deliverance! Surely it was -not the raucous voice of Frederick Smethurst, -but a sound of summer bells.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, thank you," he said, in his affectedly -indifferent way; "but the fact is, I have run up -to see Mary only on a little matter of business, -and I must get back at once. Indeed, I -purpose leaving by the Dalmally coach in the -afternoon. Thank you very much, though; -perhaps some other time I may be more -fortunate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How we had wronged this poor man! We -hated him no longer. On the contrary, great -grief was expressed over his departure; and -he was begged at least to stay that one -evening. No doubt he had heard of Dr. Angus -Sutherland, who had made such -discoveries in the use of anæsthetics? -Dr. Sutherland was coming by the afternoon -steamer. Would not he stay and meet him -at dinner?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Our tears broke out afresh—metaphorically—when -East Wind persisted in his intention -of departure; but of course compulsion was -out of the question. And so we allowed him -to go into the house, to have that business -interview with his niece.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A poor crayture!" remarked the Laird -confidently, forgetting that he was talking of a -friend of ours. "Why does he not speak out -like a man, instead of drawling and dawdling? -His accent is jist insufferable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what business can he have with -Mary?" says our sovereign lady sharply—just -as if a man with a raw skin and an -eagle-beak must necessarily be a pickpocket. -"He was the trustee of that little fortune of -hers, I know; but that is all over. She got -the money when she came of age. What can -he want to see her about now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We concerned ourselves not with that. It -was enough for us that the snake was about -to retreat from our summer paradise of his -own free will and pleasure. And Angus -Sutherland was coming; and the provisioning -of the yacht had to be seen to; for -to-morrow—to-morrow we spread our white wings again -and take flight to the far north!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never was parting guest so warmly speeded. -We concealed our tears as the coach rolled -away. We waved a hand to him. And then, -when it was suggested that the wagonette -that had brought Mary Avon down from -Castle Osprey might just as well go along to the -quay—for the steamer bringing Dr. Sutherland -would be in shortly—and when we actually did -set out in that direction, there was so little grief -on our faces that you could not have told we -had been bidding farewell to a valued friend -and relative.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now if our good-hearted Laird had had a -grain of jealousy in his nature, he might well -have resented the manner in which these two -women spoke of the approaching guest. In -their talk the word "he" meant only one -person. "He" was sure to come by this -steamer. "He" was so punctual in his -engagements. Would he bring a gun or a rod; -or would the sailing be enough amusement for -him? What a capital thing it was for him to -be able to take an interest in some such -out-of-door exercise, as a distraction to the mind! -And so forth, and so forth. The Laird heard -all this, and his expectations were no doubt -rising and rising. Forgetful of his disappointment -on first seeing Mary Avon, he was in all -likelihood creating an imaginary figure of -Angus Sutherland—and, of course, this marvel -of erudition and intellectual power must be -a tall, wan, pale person, with the travail of -thinking written in lines across the spacious -brow. The Laird was not aware that for -many a day after we first made the -acquaintance of the young Scotch student he was -generally referred to in our private conversation -as "Brose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, indeed, the Laird did stare considerably -when he saw—elbowing his way through -the crowd and making for us with a laugh of -welcome on the fresh-coloured face—a -stout-set, muscular, blue-eyed, sandy-haired, -good-humoured-looking, youngish man; who, instead -of having anything Celtic about his appearance, -might have been taken for the son of a -south-country farmer. Our young Doctor was -carrying his own portmanteau, and sturdily shoving -his way through the porters who would fain -have seized it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am glad to see you, Angus," said our -queen regent, holding out her hand; and there -was no ceremonial politeness in that -reception—but you should have seen the look in her -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he went on to the waggonette.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you do, Miss Avon?" said he, -quite timidly, like a school-boy. He scarcely -glanced up at her face, which was regarding -him with a very pleasant welcome; he seemed -relieved when he had to turn and seize his -portmanteau again. Knowing that he was -rather fond of driving, our mistress and -admiral-in-chief offered him the reins, but he -declined the honour; Mary Avon was sitting -in front. "Oh, no, thank you," said he quite -hastily, and with something uncommonly like a -blush. The Laird, if he had been entertaining -any feeling of jealousy, must have been -reassured. This Doctor-fellow was no formidable -rival. He spoke very little—he only listened—as -we drove away to Castle Osprey. Mary -Avon was chatting briskly and cheerfully, and -it was to the Laird that she addressed that -running fire of nonsense and merry laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the young Doctor was greatly concerned -when, on our arrival at Castle Osprey, he saw -Mary Avon helped down with much care, and -heard the story of the sprain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who bandages your ankle?" said he at -once, and without any shyness now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do it myself," said she cheerfully. "I -can do it well enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, you cannot!" said he abruptly; "a -person stooping cannot. The bandage should -be as tight, and as smooth, as the skin of a -drum. You must let some one else do that -for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he was disposed to resent this walking -about in the garden before dinner. What -business had she to trifle with such a serious -matter as a sprain? And a sprain which was -the recall of an older sprain. "Did she wish -to be lame for life?" he asked sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Avon laughed, and said that worse -things than that had befallen people. He -asked her whether she found any pleasure in -voluntary martyrdom; she blushed a little, and -turned to the Laird.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird was at this moment laying before -us the details of a most gigantic scheme. It -appeared that the inhabitants of Strathgovan, -not content with a steam fire-engine, were -talking about having a public park—actually -proposing to have a public park, with beds of -flowers, and iron seats; and, to crown all, a -gymnasium, where the youths of the neighbourhood -might twirl themselves on the gay trapeze -to their hearts' content. And where the -subscriptions were to come from; and what were -the hardiest plants for borders; and whether -the gymnasium should be furnished with ropes -or with chains—these matters were weighing -heavily on the mind of our good friend of -Denny-mains. Angus Sutherland relapsed into -silence, and gazed absently at a tree-fuchsia -that stood by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a beautiful tree, is it not?" said a -voice beside him—that of our midge-like -empress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He started.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," he said cheerfully. "I was -thinking I should like to live the life of a -tree like that, dying in the winter, you know, -and being quite impervious to frost, and snow, -and hard weather; and then, as soon as the -fine warm spring and summer came round, -coming to life again and spreading yourself out -to feel all the sunlight and the warm winds. -That must be a capital life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But do you really think they can feel that? -Why, you must believe that those trees and -flowers are alive!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does anybody doubt it?" said he quite -simply. "They are certainly alive. Why——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And here he bethought himself for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I only had a good microscope now," said -he eagerly, "I would show you the life of a -plant directly—in every cell of it: did you -never see the constant life in each cell—the -motion of the chlorophyll granules circling and -circling night and day? Did no one ever show -you that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, no one had ever shown us that. We -may now and again have entertained angels -unawares; but we were not always stumbling -against Fellows of the Royal Society.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I must borrow one somewhere," said -he decisively, "and show you the secret life of -even the humblest plant that exists. And then -look what a long life it is, in the case of the -perennial plants. Did you ever think of that? -Those great trees in the Yosemite valley—they -were alive and feeling the warm sunlight and -the winds about them when Alfred was hiding -in the marshes; and they were living the same -undisturbed life when Charles the First had his -head chopped off; and they were living—in -peace and quietness—when all Europe had to -wake up to stamp out the Napoleonic pest; -and they are alive now and quite careless of -the little creatures that come to span out their -circumference, and ticket them, and give them -ridiculous names. Had any of the patriarchs a -life as long as that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird eyed this young man askance. -There was something uncanny about him. -What might not he say when—in the -northern solitudes to which we were going—the -great Semple heresy-case was brought on -for discussion?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at dinner the Laird got on very well -with our new guest; for the latter listened -most respectfully when Denny-mains was -demonstrating the exceeding purity, and strength, -and fitness of the speech used in the south of -Scotland. And indeed the Laird was generous. -He admitted that there were blemishes. He -deprecated the introduction of French words; -and gave us a much longer list of those aliens -than usually appears in books. What about -</span><em class="italics">conjee</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">que-vee</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">fracaw</em><span> as used by -Scotch children and old wives?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then after dinner—at nine o'clock the -wonderful glow of the summer evening was still -filling the drawing-room—the Laird must needs -have Mary Avon sing to him. It was not a -custom of hers. She rarely would sing a song -of set purpose. The linnet sings all day—when -you do not watch her; but she will not -sing if you go and ask.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, on this occasion, her hostess went -to the piano, and sat down to play the -accompaniment; and Mary Avon stood beside her -and sang, in rather a low voice—but it was -tender enough—some modern version of the -old ballad of the Queen's Maries. What were -the words? These were of them, any way:—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Yestreen the Queen had four Maries;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">This night she'll hae but three:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And Mary Carmichael, and me.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But indeed, if you had seen that graceful -slim figure—clad all in black velvet, with the -broad band of gold fringe round the neck—and -the small, shapely, smoothly-brushed head above -the soft swathes of white muslin—and if you -had caught a glimpse of the black eyelashes -drooping outward from the curve of the pale -cheek—and if you had heard the tender, low -voice of Mary Avon, you might have forgotten -about the Queen's Maries altogether.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then Dr. Sutherland: the Laird was -determined—in true Scotch fashion—that -everybody who could not sing should be -goaded to sing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well," said the young man, with a -laugh, "you know a student in Germany must -sing whether he can or not. And I learned -there to smash out something like an -accompaniment also."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he went to the piano without more ado -and did smash out an accompaniment. And if -his voice was rather harsh?—well, we should -have called it raucous in the case of East -Wind, but we only called it manly and -strenuous when it was Angus Sutherland who sang. -And it was a manly song, too—a fitting song -for our last night on shore, the words hailing -from the green woods of Fuinary, the air an -air that had many a time been heard among -the western seas. It was the song of the -Biorlinn[#] that he sang to us; we could hear -the brave chorus and the splash of the long oars:—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Send the biorlinn on careering!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Cheerily and all together—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Give her way and show her wake</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'Mid showering spray and curling eddies—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Do we not hear now the measured stroke in the -darkness of the morning? The water springs -from her bows; one by one the headlands are -passed. But lo! the day is breaking; the dawn -will surely bring a breeze with it; and then the -sail of the gallant craft will bear her over the -seas:—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Another cheer, our Isle appears!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Our biorlinn bears her on the faster—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ahead she goes! the land she knows!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Behold! the snowy shores of Canna—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A long, strong pull together indeed: who could -resist joining in the thunder of the chorus? -And we were bound for Canna, too: this was -our last night on shore.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] </span><em class="italics small">Biorlinn</em><span class="small">—that is, a rowing-boat. The word is pronounced -</span><em class="italics small">byurlen</em><span class="small">. The song, which in a measure imitates the rhythm -peculiar to Highland poetry—consisting in a certain repetition -of the same vowel sounds—is the production of Dr. Macleod, -of Morven. And here, for the benefit of any one who minds -such things, is a rough draft of the air, arranged by a most -charming young lady, who, however, says she would much -rather die than have her name mentioned:—</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 77%" id="figure-10"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Music fragments" src="images/img-092.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Music fragments</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Our last night on shore. In such circumstances -one naturally has a glance round at the -people with whom one is to be brought into -such close contact for many and many a day. -But in this particular case, what was the use -of speculating, or grumbling, or remonstrating? -There is a certain household that is ruled with -a rod of iron. And if the mistress of that -household chose to select as her summer companions -a "shilpit bit thing," and a hard-headed, -ambitious Scotch student, and a parochial -magnate haunted by a heresy-case, how dared one -object? There is such a thing as peace and -quietness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But however unpromising the outlook might -be, do we not know the remark that is usually -made by that hard-worked officer, the chief -mate, when, on the eve of a voyage, he finds -himself confronted by an unusually mongrel -crew? He regards those loafers and outcasts—from -the Bowery, and Ratcliffe Highway, -and the Broomielaw—Greeks, niggers, and -Mexicans—with a critical and perhaps scornful -air, and forthwith proceeds to address them in -the following highly polished manner:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By etcetera-etcetera, you are an etceteraed -rum-looking lot; but etcetera-etcetera me </span><em class="italics">if I -don't lick you into shape before we get to Rio</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so—good-night!—and let all good -people pray for fair skies and a favouring -breeze! And if there is any song to be heard -in our dreams, let it be the song of the Queen's -Maries—in the low, tender voice of Mary Avon:—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And Mary Carmichael, and me.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="northward"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">NORTHWARD.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We have bidden good-bye to the land; the -woods and the green hills have become pale -in the haze of the summer light; we are out -here, alone, on the shining blue plain. And -if our young Doctor betrays a tendency to -keep forward—conversing with John of Skye -about blocks, and tackle, and winches; and -if the Laird—whose parental care and regard -for Mary Avon is becoming beautiful to -see—should have quite a monopoly of the young -lady, and be more bent than ever on amusing -her with his "good ones;" and if our queen -and governor should spend a large portion -of her time below, in decorating cabins with -flowers, in overhauling napery, and in earnest -consultation with Master Fred about certain -culinary mysteries; notwithstanding all these -divergences of place and occupation, our little -kingdom afloat is compact enough. There is -always, for example, a reassembling at meals. -There is an instant community of interest when -a sudden cry calls all hands on deck to regard -some new thing—the spouting of a whale or the -silvery splashing of a shoal of mackerel. But -now—but now—if only some cloud-compelling -Jove would break this insufferably fine weather, -and give us a tearing good gale!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is a strange little kingdom. It has no -postal service. Shilling telegrams are unknown -in it; there is no newspaper at breakfast. -There are no barrel-organs; nor rattling -hansoms raising the dust in windy streets; there -is no afternoon scandal; overheated rooms at -midnight are a thing of the past. Serene, -independent, self-centred, it minds its own -affairs; if the whole of Europe were roaring -for war, not even an echo of the cry would -reach us. We only hear the soft calling of -the sea-birds as we sit and read, or talk, -or smoke; from time to time watching the -shadows move on the blistering hot decks, -or guessing at the names of the blue mountains -that rise above Loch Etive and Lochaber. At -the present moment there is a faint summer -haze over these mountains; as yet we have -around us none of the dazzling light and -strangely intense colours that are peculiar to -this part of the world, and that are only -possible, in fact, in an atmosphere frequently -washed clear by squalls of rain. This question -of rain turns up at lunch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They prayed for rain in the churches last -Sunday—so Captain John says," Mary Avon -remarks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The distilleries are stopped: that's very -serious," continues the Laird.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," says Queen T., "people talk about -the rain in the West Highlands. It must be -true, as everybody says it is true. But -now—excepting the year we went to America with -Sylvia Balfour—we have been here for five -years running; and each year we made up -our mind for a deluge—thinking we had -deserved it, you know. Well, it never came. -Look at this now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the fact was that we were lying motionless -on the smooth bosom of the Atlantic, with -the sun so hot on the decks that we were glad -to get below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very strange—very strange, indeed," -remarked the Laird, with a profound air. "Now -what value are we to put on any historical -evidence if we find such a conflict of testimony -about what is at our own doors? How should -there be two opeenions about the weather in the -West Highlands? It is a matter of common -experience—dear me! I never heard the like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but I think we might try to reconcile -those diverse opinions!" said Angus Sutherland, -with an absolute gravity. "You hear mostly -the complaints of London people, who make -much of a passing shower. Then the tourist -and holiday folk, especially from the South, -come in the autumn, when the fine summer -weather has broken. And then," he added, -addressing himself with a frank smile to the -small creature who had been expressing her -wonder over the fine weather, "perhaps, if you -are pleased with your holiday on the whole, you -are not anxious to remember the wet days; and -then you are not afraid of a shower, I know; -and besides that, when one is yachting, one is -more anxious for wind than for fine weather."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I am sure that is it!" called out Mary -Avon quite eagerly. She did not care how -she destroyed the Laird's convictions about -the value of historical evidence. "That is an -explanation of the whole thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this, our young Doctor—-who had been -professing to treat this matter seriously merely -as a joke—quickly lowered his eyes. He -scarcely ever looked Mary Avon in the face -when she spoke to him, or when he had to -speak to her. And a little bit of shy -embarrassment in his manner towards her—perceivable -only at times—was all the more -singular in a man who was shrewd and -hard-headed enough, who had knocked about the -world and seen many persons and things, and -who had a fair amount of unassuming -self-confidence, mingled with a vein of sly and -reticent humour. He talked freely enough -when he was addressing our admiral-in-chief. -He was not afraid to meet </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> eyes. Indeed, -they were so familiar friends that she called -him by his Christian name—a practice which -in general she detested. But she would as -soon have thought of applying "Mr." to one -of her own boys at Epsom College as to -Angus Sutherland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you know, Angus," says she pleasantly, -"you have definitely promised to go -up to the Outer Hebrides with us, and back. -The longer the calms last, the longer we shall -have you. So we shall gladly put up with -the fine weather."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is very kind of you to say so; but I -have already had such a long holiday——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Mary Avon, with her eyes full -of wonder and indignation. She was too -surprised to say any more. She only stared -at him. She knew he had been working -night and day in Edinburgh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean," said he hastily, and looking down, -"I have been away so long from London. -Indeed, I was getting rather anxious about -my next month's number; but luckily, just -before I left Edinburgh, a kind friend sent -me a most valuable paper, so I am quite at -ease again. Would you like to read it, sir? -It is set up in type."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took the sheets from his pocket, and -handed them to the Laird. Denny-mains -looked at the title. It was </span><em class="italics">On the Radiolarians -of the Coal Measures</em><span>, and it was the -production of a well-known professor. The -Laird handed back the paper without opening it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thank you," said he, with some dignity. -"If I wished to be instructed, I would like a -safer guide than that man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We looked with dismay on this dangerous -thing that had been brought on board: might -it not explode and blow up the ship?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," said our Doctor, in unaffected -wonder, and entirely mistaking the Laird's -exclamation, "he is a perfect master of his subject."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a great deal too much speculation -nowadays on these matters, and parteecularly -among the younger men," remarked the Laird -severely. And he looked at Angus Sutherland. -"I suppose now ye are well acquainted -with the </span><em class="italics">Vestiges of Creation</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have heard of the book," said Brose—regretfully -confessing his ignorance, "but I -never happened to see it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird's countenance lightened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So much the better—so much the better. -A most mischievous and unsettling book. But -all the harm it can do is counteracted by a -noble work—a conclusive work that leaves -nothing to be said. Ye have read the -</span><em class="italics">Testimony of the Rocks</em><span>, no doubt?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, certainly," our Doctor was glad -to be able to say; "but—but it was a long -time ago—when I was a boy, in fact."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Boy, or man, you'll get no better book -on the history of the earth. I tell ye, sir, I -never read a book that placed such firm -conviction in my mind. Will ye get any of the -new men they are talking about as keen an -observer and as skilful in arguing as Hugh -Miller? No, no; not one of them dares to -try to upset the </span><em class="italics">Testimony of the Rocks</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Angus Sutherland appealed against this -sentence of finality only in a very humble way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, sir," said he meekly, "you know -that science is still moving forward——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Science?" repeated the Laird. "Science -may be moving forward or moving backward; -but can it upset the facts of the earth? -Science may say what it likes; but the facts -remain the same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now this point was so conclusive that we -unanimously hailed the Laird as victor. Our -young Doctor submitted with an excellent -good humour. He even promised to post -that paper on the Radiolarians at the very -first post-office we might reach: we did not -want any such explosive compounds on board.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That night we only got as far as Fishnish -Bay—a solitary little harbour probably down -on but few maps; and that we had to reach -by getting out the gig for a tow. There was -a strange bronze-red in the northern skies, long -after the sun had set; but in here the shadow -of the great mountains was on the water. We -could scarcely see the gig; but Angus Sutherland -had joined the men and was pulling -stroke; and along with the measured splash -of the oars, we heard something about "</span><em class="italics">Ho, -ro, clansmen!</em><span>" Then, in the cool night air, -there was a slight fragrance of peat-smoke; -we knew we were getting near the shore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a fine fellow, that," says the Laird, -generously, of his defeated antagonist. "A -fine fellow. His knowledge of different things -is just remarkable; and he's as modest as a -girl. Ay, and he can row, too; a while ago -when it was lighter, I could see him put his -shoulders into it. Ay, he's a fine, good-natured -fellow, and I am glad he has not been led -astray by that mischievous book, the </span><em class="italics">Vestiges -of Creation</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Come on board now, boys, and swing up -the gig to the davits! Twelve fathoms of -chain?—away with her then!—and there is a -roar in the silence of the lonely little bay. -And thereafter silence; and the sweet -fragrance of the peat in the night air, and the -appearance, above the black hills, of a clear, -shining, golden planet that sends a quivering -line of light across the water to us. And, -once more, good-night and pleasant dreams!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But what is this in the morning? There -have been no pleasant dreams for John of -Skye and his merry men during the last night; -for here we are already between Mingary Bay -and Ru-na-Gaul Lighthouse; and before us is -the open Atlantic, blue under the fair skies -of the morning. And here is Dr. Sutherland, -at the tiller, with a suspiciously negligent look -about his hair and shirt-collar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been up since four," says he, with a -laugh. "I heard them getting under way, -and did not wish to miss anything. You know -these places are not so familiar to me as -they are to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there going to be any wind to-day, John?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No mich," says John of Skye, looking at -the cloudless blue vault above the glassy -sweeps of the sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, as the morning goes by, we -get as much of a breeze as enables us to draw -away from the mainland—round Ardnamurchan -("the headland of the great sea") and out into -the open—with Muick Island, and the sharp -Scuir of Eigg, and the peaks of Rum lying over -there on the still Atlantic, and far away in the -north the vast and spectral mountains of Skye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now the work of the day begins. Mary -Avon, for mere shame's sake, is at last -compelled to produce one of her blank canvases -and open her box of tubes. And now it -would appear that Angus Sutherland—though -deprived of the authority of the sick-room—is -beginning to lose his fear of the English -young lady. He makes himself useful—not -with the elaborate and patronising courtesy of -the Laird, but in a sort of submissive, matter-of-fact -shifty fashion. He sheathes the spikes -of her easel with cork so that they shall not -mark the deck. He rigs up, to counterbalance -that lack of stability, a piece of cord with a -heavy weight. Then, with the easel fixed, he -fetches her a deck-chair to sit in, and a -deck-stool for her colours, and these and her he -places under the lee of the foresail, to be out -of the glare of the sun. Thus our artist is -started; she is going to make a sketch of the -after-part of the yacht with Hector of Moidart -at the tiller: beyond, the calm blue seas, and -a faint promontory of land.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the Laird—having confidentially -remarked to Miss Avon that Tom Galbraith, -than whom there is no greater authority living, -invariably moistens the fresh canvas with -megilp before beginning work—has turned to -the last report of the Semple case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," says he to our sovereign lady, -who is engaged in some mysterious work in -wool, "it does not look well for the Presbytery -to go over every one of the charges in the -major proposeetion—supported by the -averments in the minor—only to find them -irrelevant; and then bring home to him the part -of the libel that deals with tendency. No, no; -that shows a lamentable want of purpose. In -view of the great danger to be apprehended -from these secret assaults on the inspiration -of the Scriptures, they should have stuck to -each charge with tenahcity. Now, I will just -show ye where Dr. Carnegie, in defending -</span><em class="italics">Secundo</em><span>—illustrated as it was with the extracts -and averments in the minor—let the whole -thing slip through his fingers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But if any one were disposed to be absolutely -idle on this calm, shining, beautiful day—far -away from the cares and labours of the -land? Out on the taffrail, under shadow of -the mizen, there is a seat that is gratefully -cool. The Mare of the sea no longer bewilders -the eyes; one can watch with a lazy -enjoyment the teeming life of the open -Atlantic. The great skarts go whizzing by, -long-necked, rapid of flight. The gannets -poise in the air, and then there is a sudden -dart downwards, and a spout of water flashes -up where the bird has dived. The guillemots -fill the silence with their soft kurrooing—and -here they are on all sides of us—</span><em class="italics">Kirroo! -Kurroo!</em><span>—dipping their bills in the water, -hastening away from the vessel, and then -rising on the surface to flap their wings. But -this is a strange thing: they are all in -pairs—obviously mother and child—and the mother -calls </span><em class="italics">Kurroo! Kurroo!</em><span>—and the young one -unable as yet to dive or swim, answers -</span><em class="italics">Pe-yoo-it! Pe-yoo-it!</em><span> and flutters and paddles -after her. But where is the father? And has -the guillemot only one of a family? Over -that one, at all events, she exercises a valiant -protection. Even though the stem of the -yacht seems likely to run both of them down, -she will neither dive nor fly until she has -piloted the young one out of danger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then a sudden cry startles the Laird from -his heresy-case and Mary Avon from her -canvas. A sound far away has turned all -eyes to the north; though there is nothing -visible there, over the shining calm of the -sea, but a small cloud of white spray that -slowly sinks. In a second or two, however, -we see another jet of white water arise; and -then a great brown mass heave slowly over; -and then we hear the spouting of the whale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a huge animal!" cries one. "A -hundred feet!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eighty, any way!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The whale is sheering off to the north: -there is less and less chance of our forming -any correct estimate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I am sure it was a hundred! Don't -you think so, Angus?" says our admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," says the Doctor, slowly—pretending -to be very anxious about keeping the sails full -(when there was no wind)—"you know there -is a great difference between 'yacht -measurement' and 'registered tonnage.' A vessel of -fifty registered tons may become eighty or -ninety by yacht measurement. And I have -often noticed," continues this graceless young -man, who takes no thought how he is bringing -contempt on his elders, "that objects seen from -the deck of a yacht are naturally subject to -'yacht measurement.' I don't know what the -size of that whale may be. Its registered -tonnage, I suppose, would be the number of -Jonahs it could carry. But I should think that -if the apparent 'yacht measurement' was a -hundred feet, the whale was probably about -twenty feet long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was thus he tried to diminish the marvels -of the deep! But, however he might crush us -otherwise, we were his masters on one point. -The Semple heresy-case was too deep even -for him. What could he make of "</span><em class="italics">the first -alternative of the general major</em><span>"?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And see now, on this calm summer evening, -we pass between Muick and Eigg; and the -sea is like a plain of gold. As we draw near -the sombre mass of Rum, the sunset deepens, -and a strange lurid mist hangs around this -remote and mountainous island rising sheer -from the Atlantic. Gloomy and mysterious -are the vast peaks of Haleval and Haskeval; -we creep under them—favoured by a flood-tide—and -the silence of the desolate shores seems -to spread out from them and to encompass us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Avon has long ago put away her -canvas; she sits and watches; and her soft -black eyes are full of dreaming as she gazes -up at those thunder-dark mountains against the -rosy haze of the west.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haleval and Haskeval?" Angus Sutherland -repeats, in reply to his hostess; but he starts -all the same, for he has been covertly regarding -the dark and wistful eyes of the girl sitting -there. "Oh, these are Norse names. Scuir -na Gillean, on the other hand, is Gaelic—it is -</span><em class="italics">the peak of the young men</em><span>. Perhaps, the -Norsemen had the north of the island, and -the Celts the south."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whether they were named by Scandinavian -or by Celt, Haleval and Haskeval seemed to -overshadow us with their sultry gloom as we -slowly glided into the lonely loch lying at their -base. We were the only vessel there; and we -could make out no sign of life on shore, until -the glass revealed to us one or two half-ruined -cottages. The northern twilight shone in the -sky far into the night; but neither that clear -metallic glow, nor any radiance from moon, or -planet, or star, seemed to affect the thunder-darkness -of Haskeval and Haleval's silent peaks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was another tale to tell below—the -big saloon aglow with candles; the white table-cover -with its centre-piece of roses, nasturtiums, -and ferns; the delayed dinner, or supper, or -whatever it might be called, all artistically arranged; -our young Doctor most humbly solicitous -that Mary Avon should be comfortably seated, -and, in fact, quite usurping the office of the -Laird in that respect; and then a sudden sound -in the galley, a hissing as of a thousand squibs, -telling us that Master Fred had once more and -ineffectually tried to suppress the released genie -of the bottle by jamming down the cork. -Forthwith the Laird, with his old-fashioned -ways, must needs propose a health, which is -that of our most sovereign and midge-like -mistress; and this he does with an elaborate -and gracious and sonorous courtesy. And -surely there is no reason why Mary Avon -should not for once break her habit and join -in that simple ceremony; especially when it -is a real live Doctor—and not only a Doctor, -but an encyclopædia of scientific and all other -knowledge—who would fain fill her glass? -Angus Sutherland timidly but seriously pleads; -and he does not plead in vain; and you would -think from his look that she had conferred an -extraordinary favour on him. Then we—we -propose a health too—the health of the FOUR -WINDS! and we do not care which of them it -is who is coming to-morrow, so long as he -or she comes in force. Blow, breezes, blow!—from -the Coolins of Skye, or the shores of -Coll, or the glens of Arisaig and Moidart—for -to-morrow morning we shake out once more -the white wings of the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, and set -forth for the loneliness of the northern seas.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="plots-and-counter-plots"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Now the Laird has a habit—laudable or not—of -lingering over an additional half-cup at -breakfast, as an excuse for desultory talk; and -thus it is, on this particular morning, the young -people having gone on deck to see the yacht get -under way, that Denny-mains has a chance -of revealing to us certain secret schemes of his -over which he has apparently been brooding. -How could we have imagined that all this -plotting and planning had been going on -beneath the sedate exterior of the -Commissioner for the Burgh of Strathgovan?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's just a wonderful bit lass!" he says, -confidently, to his hostess; "as happy and -contented as the day is long; and when she's -not singing to herself, her way of speech has a -sort of—a sort of music in it that is quite new -to me. Yes, I must admit that; I did not -know that the southern English tongue was -so accurate and pleasant to the ear. Ay, -but what will become of her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What, indeed! The lady whom he was -addressing had often spoken to him of Mary -Avon's isolated position in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It fairly distresses me," continues the -good-hearted Laird, "when I think of her -condeetion—not at present, when she has, if I may be -allowed to say so, </span><em class="italics">several</em><span> friends near her -who would be glad to do what they could for -her; but by and by, when she is becoming -older——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird hesitated. Was it possible, after -all, that he was about to hint at the chance of -Mary Avon becoming the mistress of the -mansion and estate of Denny-mains? Then -he made a plunge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A young woman in her position should -have a husband to protect her, that is what -I am sure of. Have ye never thought of it, -ma'am?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like very well to see Mary -married," says the other, demurely. "And I -know she would make an excellent wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An excellent wife!" exclaims the Laird; -and then he adds, with a tone approaching to -severity, "I tell ye he will be a fortunate man -that gets her. Oh, ay; I have watched her. -I can keep my eyes open when there is need. -Did you hear her asking the captain about his -wife and children? I tell you there's </span><em class="italics">human -nature</em><span> in that lass."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no need for the Laird to be so -pugnacious; we were not contesting the point. -However, he resumed—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been thinking," said he, with a little -more shyness, "about my nephew. He's a -good lad. Well, ye know, ma'am, that I do -not approve of young men being brought up in -idleness, whatever their prospects must be; -and I have no doubt whatever that my nephew -Howard is working hard enough—what with the -reading of law-books, and attending the courts, -and all that—though as yet he has not had -much business. But then there is no necessity. -I do not think he is a lad of any great -ambeetion, like your friend Mr. Sutherland, who has -to fight his way in the world in any case. But -Howard—I have been thinking now that if he -was to get married and settled, he might give -up the law business altogether; and, if they -were content to live in Scotland, he might look -after Denny-mains. It will be his in any case, -ye know; he would have the interest of a man -looking after his own property. Now, I will -tell ye plainly, ma'am, what I have been -thinking about this day or two back; if Howard -would marry your young lady friend, that -would be agreeable to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The calm manner in which the Laird -announced his scheme showed that it had been -well matured. It was a natural, simple, feasible -arrangement, by which two persons in whom he -took a warm interest would be benefited at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But then, sir," said his hostess, with a -smile which she could not wholly repress, "you -know people never do marry to please a third -person—at least, very seldom."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there can be no forcing," said the Laird -with decision. "But I have done a great deal -for Howard; may I not expect that he will do -something for me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, doubtless, doubtless," says this amiable -lady, who has had some experience in match-making -herself; "but I have generally found -that marriages that would be in every way -suitable and pleasing to friends, and obviously -desirable, are precisely the marriages that never -come off. Young people, when they are flung -at each other's heads, to use the common -phrase, never will be sensible and please their -relatives. Now if you were to bring your -nephew here, do you think Mary would fall in -love with him because she ought? More -likely you would find that, out of pure -contrariety, she would fall in love with -Angus Sutherland, who cannot afford to -marry, and whose head is filled with other -things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not sure, I am not sure," said the -Laird, musingly. "Howard is a good-looking -young fellow, and a capital lad, too. I am not -so sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then, you know," said the other shyly, -for she will not plainly say anything to Mary's -disparagement, "young men have different -tastes in their choice of a wife. He might not -have the high opinion of her that you have."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this the Laird gave a look of surprise—even -of resentment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I'll tell ye what it is, ma'am," said -he, almost angrily; "if my nephew had the -chance of marrying such a girl, and did not do -so, I should consider him—I should consider -him </span><em class="italics">a fool</em><span>, and say so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then he added, sharply—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And do ye think I would let Denny-mains -pass into the hands of </span><em class="italics">a fool</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now this kind lady had had no intention of -rousing the wrath of the Laird in this manner; -and she instantly set about pacifying him. And -the Laird was easily pacified. In a minute or -two he was laughing good-naturedly at himself -for getting into a passion; he said it would not -do for one at his time of life to try to play the -part of the stern father as they played that in -theatre pieces—there was to be no forcing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he's a good lad, ma'am, a good lad," -said he, rising as his hostess rose; and he -added, significantly, "he is no fool, I assure ye, -ma'am; he has plenty of common sense."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we get up on deck again, we find that -the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> is gently gliding out of the -lonely Loch Scresorst, with its solitary house -among the trees, and its crofters' huts at the -base of the sombre hills. And as the light cool -breeze—gratefully cool after the blazing heat of -the last day or two—carries us away -northward, we see more and more of the awful -solitudes of Haleval and Haskeval, that are -still thunderous and dark under the hazy sky. -Above the great shoulders, and under the -purple peaks, we see the far-reaching corries -opening up, with here and there a white -waterfall just visible in the hollows. There is a -sense of escape as we draw away from that -overshadowing gloom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then we discover that we have a new -skipper to-day, </span><em class="italics">vice</em><span> John of Skye, deposed. -The fresh hand is Mary Avon, who is at the -tiller, and looking exceedingly business-like. -She has been promoted to this post by -Dr. Sutherland, who stands by; she receives -explanations about the procedure of Hector of -Moidart, who is up aloft, lacing the smaller -topsail to the mast; she watches the operations -of John of Skye and Sandy, who are at the sheets -below; and, like a wise and considerate captain, -she pretends not to notice Master Fred, who is -having a quiet smoke by the windlass. And -so, past those lonely shores sails the brave -vessel—the yawl </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, Captain Mary -Avon, bound for anywhere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But you must not imagine that the new -skipper is allowed to stand by the tiller. -Captain though she may be, she has to submit -civilly to dictation, in so far as her foot is -concerned, Our young Doctor has compelled her -to be seated, and he has passed a rope round -the tiller that so she can steer from her chair, -and from time to time he gives suggestions, -which she receives as orders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I had been with you when you first -sprained your foot," he says.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes?" she answers, with humble inquiry in -her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would have put it in plaster of Paris," he -says, in a matter-of-fact way, "and locked you -up in the house for a fortnight; at the end of -that time you would not know which ankle was -the sprained one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was neither "with your leave" nor -"by your leave" in this young man's manner -when he spoke of that accident. He would -have taken possession of her. He would have -discarded your bandages and hartshorn, and -what not; when it was Mary Avon's foot that -was concerned—it was intimated to us—he would -have had his own way in spite of all comers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I had known," she says, timidly, -meaning that it was the treatment she wished -she had known.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a more heroic remedy," said he, -with a smile; "and that is walking the sprain -off. I believe that can be done, but most -people would shrink from the pain. Of course, -if it were done at all, it would be done by a -woman; women can bear pain infinitely better -than men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do you think so!" she says, in mild -protest. "Oh, I am sure not. Men are so much -braver than women, so much stronger——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this gentle quarrel is suddenly stopped, -for some one calls attention to a deer that is -calmly browsing on one of the high slopes -above that rocky shore, and instantly all glasses -are in request. It is a hind, with a beautifully -shaped head and slender legs; she takes no -notice of the passing craft, but continues her -feeding, walking a few steps onward from time -to time. In this way she reaches the edge of a -gully in the rugged cliffs where there is some -brushwood, and probably a stream; into this -she sedately descends, and we see her no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there is another cry; what is this -cloud ahead, or waterspout resting on the -calm bosom of the sea? Glasses again in -request, amid many exclamations, reveal to -us that this is a dense cloud of birds; a flock -so vast that towards the water it seems black; -can it be the dead body of a whale that has -collected this world of wings from all the -Northern seas? Hurry on, </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>; for -the floating cloud with the black base is moving -and seething—in fantastic white fumes, as it -were—in the loveliness of this summer day. -And now, as we draw nearer, we can descry -that there is no dead body of a whale causing -that blackness; but only the density of the -mass of seafowl. And nearer and nearer as -we draw, behold! the great gannets swooping -down in such numbers that the sea is covered -with a mist of waterspouts; and the air is -filled with innumerable cries; and we do not -know what to make of this bewildering, fluttering, -swimming, screaming mass of terns, guillemots, -skarts, kittiwakes, razorbills, puffins, and -gulls. But they draw away again. The -herring-shoal is moving northward. The -murmur of cries becomes more remote, and -the seething cloud of the sea-birds is slowly -dispersing. When the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> sails up -to the spot at which this phenomenon was -first seen, there is nothing visible but a -scattered assemblage of guillemots—</span><em class="italics">kurroo! kurroo!</em><span> -answered by </span><em class="italics">pe-yoo-it! pe-yoo-it!</em><span>—and -great gannets—"as big as a sheep," says -John of Skye—apparently so gorged that they -lie on the water within stone's-throw of the -yacht, before spreading out their long, -snow-white, black-tipped wings to bear them away -over the sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now, as we are altering our course to -the west—far away to our right stand the vast -Coolins of Skye—we sail along the northern -shores of Rum. There is no trace of any -habitation visible; nothing but the precipitous -cliffs, and the sandy bays, and the outstanding -rocks dotted with rows of shining black skarts. -When Mary Avon asks why those sandy bays -should be so red, and why a certain ruddy -warmth of colour should shine through even -the patches of grass, our F.R.S. begins to -speak of powdered basalt rubbed down from -the rocks above. He would have her begin -another sketch, but she is too proud of her -newly acquired knowledge to forsake the tiller.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wind is now almost dead aft, and we -have a good deal of gybing. Other people -might think that all this gybing was an evidence -of bad steering on the part of our new skipper; -but Angus Sutherland—and we cannot -contradict an F.R.S.—assures Miss Avon that -she is doing remarkably well; and, as he -stands by to lay hold of the main sheet when -the boom swings over, we are not in much -danger of carrying away either port or -starboard davits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know," says he lightly, "I -sometimes think I ought to apply for the post of -surgeon on board a man-of-war? That would -just suit me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I hope you will not," she blurts out -quite inadvertently; and thereafter there is -a deep blush on her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should enjoy it immensely, I know," -says he, wholly ignorant of her embarrassment, -because he is keeping an eye on the sails. -"I believe I should have more pleasure in -life that way than any other——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you do not live for your own pleasure," -says she hastily, perhaps to cover her confusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no one else to live for, any way," -says he, with a laugh; and then he corrected -himself. "Oh, yes, I have. My father is a -sad heretic. He has fallen away from the -standards of his faith; he has set up -idols—the diplomas and medals I have got from -time to time. He has them all arranged in -his study, and I have heard that he positively -sits down before them and worships them. -When I sent him the medal from Vienna—it -was only bronze—he returned to me his -Greek Testament, that he had interleaved and -annotated when he was a student; I believe -it was his greatest possession."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you would give up all that he expects -from you to go away and be a doctor on board -a ship!" says Mary Avon, with some proud -emphasis. "That would not be my ambition -if I were a man, and—and—if I had—if——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, she could not quite say to Brose's face -what she thought of his powers and prospects; -so she suddenly broke away and said—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; you would go and do that for your -own amusement? And what would the -amusement be? Do you think they would let the -doctor interfere with the sailing of the ship?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said he, laughing, "that is a -practical objection. I don't suppose the -captain of a man-of-war or even of a merchant -vessel would be as accommodating as your -John of Skye. Captain John has his -compensation when he is relieved; he can go -forward, and light his pipe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I think for </span><em class="italics">your father's sake</em><span>," says -Miss Avon, with decision, "you had better -put that idea out of your head, once and -for all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now blow, breezes, blow! What is the -great headland that appears, striking out into -the wide Atlantic?</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ahead she goes! the land she knows!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Behold! the snowy shores of Canna!</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Tom Galbraith," the Laird is saying -solemnly to his hostess, "has assured me that -Rum is the most picturesque island on the -whole of the western coast of Scotland. That -is his deleeberate opinion. And indeed I would -not go so far as to say he was wrong. Arran! -They talk about Arran! Just look at those -splendid mountains coming sheer down to the -sea; and the light of the sun on them! Eh -me, what a sunset there will be this night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Canna?" says Dr. Sutherland, to his -interlocutor, who seems very anxious to be -instructed. "Oh, I don't know. </span><em class="italics">Canna</em><span> in -Gaelic is simply a can; but then </span><em class="italics">Cana</em><span> is -a whale; and the island in the distance -looks long and flat on the water. Or it -may be from </span><em class="italics">canach</em><span>—that is, the moss-cotton; -or from </span><em class="italics">cannach</em><span>—that is, the sweet-gale. -You see, Miss Avon, ignorant people have -an ample choice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Blow! breezes blow! as the yellow light of -the afternoon shines over the broad Atlantic. -Here are the eastern shores of Canna, high -and rugged, and dark with caves; and there -the western shores of Rum, the mighty -mountains aglow in the evening light. And this -remote and solitary little bay, with its green -headlands, and its awkward rocks at the mouth, -and the one house presiding over it amongst -that shining wilderness of shrubs and flowers? -Here is fair shelter for the night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After dinner, in the lambent twilight, we set -out with the gig; and there was much preparation -of elaborate contrivances for the entrapping -of fish. But the Laird's occult and intricate -tackle—the spinning minnows, and spoons, and -india-rubber sand-eels—proved no competitor -for the couple of big white flies that Angus -Sutherland had busked. And of course Mary -Avon had that rod; and when some huge -lithe dragged the end of the rod fairly under -water, and when she cried aloud, "Oh! oh! -I can't hold it; he'll break the rod!" then -arose our Doctor's word of command:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haul him in! Shove out the butt! No -scientific playing with a lithe! Well done!—well -done!—a five-pounder I'll bet ten farthings!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not scientific fishing; but we got big -fish—which is of more importance in the eyes -of Master Fred. And then, as the night fell, -we set out again for the yacht; and the Doctor -pulled stroke; and he sang some more verses -of the </span><em class="italics">biorlinn</em><span> song as the blades dashed fire -into the rushing sea:—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Proudly o'er the waves we'll bound her,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">As the staghound bounds the heather!</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Through the eddying tide we'll guide her,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Round each isle and breezy headland,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The yellow lamp at the bow of the yacht -grew larger and larger; the hull of the boat -looked black between us and the starlit -heavens; as we clambered on board there -was a golden glow from the saloon skylight. -And then, during the long and happy evening, -amid all the whist-playing and other amusements -going forward, what about certain timid -courtesies and an occasional shy glance between -those two young people? Some of us began -to think that if the Laird's scheme was to -come to anything, it was high time that -Mr. Howard Smith put in an appearance.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-wild-studio"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A WILD STUDIO.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There is a fine bustle of preparation next -morning—for the gig is waiting by the side -of the yacht; and Dr. Sutherland is carefully -getting our artist's materials into the stern; -and the Laird is busy with shawls and -waterproofs; and Master Fred brings along the -luncheon-basket. Our Admiral-in-chief prefers -to stay on board; she has letters to write; -there are enough of us to go and be tossed -on the Atlantic swell off the great caves of -Canna.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as the men strike their oars in the -water and we wave a last adieu, the Laird -catches a glimpse of our larder at the stern of -the yacht. Alas! there is but one remaining -piece of fresh meat hanging there, under the -white canvas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It reminds me," says he, beginning to laugh -already, "of a good one that Tom Galbraith -told me—a real good one that was. Tom -had a little bit yacht that his man and himself -sailed when he was painting, ye know; and -one day they got into a bay where Duncan—that -was the man's name—had some friends -ashore. Tom left him in charge of the yacht; -and—and—ha! ha! ha!—there was a leg of -mutton hanging at the stern. Well, Tom -was rowed ashore; and painted all day; and -came back to the yacht in the afternoon. -</span><em class="italics">There was no leg of mutton</em><span>! 'Duncan,' says -he, 'where is the leg of mutton?' Duncan -pretended to be vastly surprised. 'Iss it -away?' says he. 'Away?' says Tom. 'Don't -you see it is away? I want to know who -took it!' Duncan looked all round him—at -the sea and the sky—and then says he—then -says he, 'Maybe it wass a -dog!'—ha! ha! hee! hee! hee!—'maybe -it wass a dog,' says -he; and they were half a mile from the shore! -I never see the canvas at the stern of a yacht -without thinking o' Tom Galbraith and the -leg of mutton;" and here the Laird laughed -long and loud again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have heard you speak once or twice -about Tom Galbraith," remarked our young -Doctor, without meaning the least sarcasm; -"he is an artist, I suppose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird stopped laughing. There was a -look of indignant wonder—approaching to -horror—on his face. But when he proceeded, -with some dignity and even resentment, to -explain to this ignorant person the immense -importance of the school that Tom Galbraith -had been chiefly instrumental in forming; and -the high qualities of that artist's personal -work; and how the members of the Royal -Academy shook in their shoes at the mere -mention of Tom Galbraith's name, he -became more pacified; for Angus Sutherland -listened with great respect, and even promised -to look out for Mr. Galbraith's work if he -passed through Edinburgh on his way to the -south.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The long, swinging stroke of the men soon -took us round the successive headlands until -we were once more in the open, with the -mountains of Skye in the north, and, far -away at the horizon, a pale line which we -knew to be North Uist. And now the green -shores of Canna were becoming more -precipitous; and there was a roaring of the sea -along the spurs of black rock; and the long -Atlantic swell, breaking on the bows of the -gig, was sending a little more spray over us -than was at all desirable. Certainly no one -who could have seen the Doctor at this -moment—with his fresh-coloured face dripping with -the salt water and shining in the sunlight—would -have taken him for a hard-worked and -anxious student. His hard work was pulling -stroke-oar, and he certainly put his shoulders -into it, as the Laird had remarked; and his -sole anxiety was about Mary Avon's -art-materials. That young lady shook the water -from the two blank canvases, and declared -it did not matter a bit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These lonely cliffs!—becoming more grim -and awful every moment, as this mite of a boat -still wrestles with the great waves, and makes -its way along the coast. And yet there are -tender greens where the pasturage appears on -the high plateaus; and there is a soft ruddy -hue where the basalt shines. The gloom of -the picture appears below—in the caves washed -out of the conglomerate by the heavy seas; in -the spurs and fantastic pillars and arches of the -black rock; and in this leaden-hued Atlantic -springing high over every obstacle to go -roaring and booming into the caverns. And these -innumerable white specks on the sparse green -plateaus and on this high promontory: can -they be mushrooms in millions? Suddenly one -of the men lifts his oar from the rowlock, and -rattles it on the gunwale of the gig. At this -sound a cloud rises from the black rocks; it -spreads; the next moment the air is darkened -over our heads; and almost before we know -what has happened, this vast multitude of -puffins has wheeled by us, and wheeled again -further out to sea—a smoke of birds! And -as we watch them, behold! stragglers come -back—in thousands upon thousands—the air is -filled with them—some of them swooping so -near us that we can see the red parrot-like -beak and the orange-hued web-feet, and then -again the green shelves of grass and the -pinnacles of rock become dotted with those -white specks. The myriads of birds; the -black caverns; the arches and spurs of rock; -the leaden-hued Atlantic bounding and -springing in white foam: what says Mary Avon to -that? Has she the courage?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you can put me ashore?" says she.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, we will get you ashore, somehow," -Dr. Sutherland answers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, indeed, the nearer we approach that -ugly coast the less we like the look of it. -Again and again we make for what should be -a sheltered bit; but long before we can get to -land we can see through the plunging sea great -masses of yellow, which we know to be the -barnacled rock; and then ahead we find a shore -that, in this heavy surf, would make match-wood -of the gig in three seconds. Our Doctor, -however, will not give in. If he cannot get -the gig on to any beach or into any creek, he -will land our artist somehow. And at last—and -in spite of the remonstrances of John of -Skye—he insists on having the boat backed -in to a projecting mass of conglomerate, all -yellowed over with small shell-fish, against -which the sea is beating heavily. It is an ugly -landing-place; we can see the yellow rock go -sheer down in the clear green sea; and the -surf is spouting up the side in white jets. But -if she can watch a high wave, and put her -foot there—and there—will she not find herself -directly on a plateau of rock at least twelve -feet square?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back her, John!—back her!—" and therewith -the Doctor, watching his chance, scrambles -out and up to demonstrate the feasibility of the -thing. And the easel is handed out to him; -and the palette and canvases; and finally -Mary Avon herself. Nay, even the Laird will -adventure, sending on before him the luncheon-basket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is a strange studio—this projecting -shell-crusted rock, surrounded on three sides by the -sea, and on the fourth by an impassable cliff. -And the sounds beneath our feet—there must -be some subterranean passage or cave into -which the sea roars and booms. But Angus -Sutherland rigs up the easel rapidly; and -arranges the artist's camp-stool; and sets her -fairly agoing; then he proposes to leave the -Laird in charge of her. He and the humble -chronicler of the adventures of these people -mean to have some further exploration of this -wild coast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we had hardly gone a quarter of a mile -or so—it was hard work pulling in this heavy -sea—when the experienced eye of Sandy from -Islay saw that something was wrong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that?" he said, staring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We turned instantly, and strove to look -through the mists of spray. Where we had -left the Laird and Mary Avon there were now -visible only two mites, apparently not bigger -than puffins. But is not one of the puffins -gesticulating wildly?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Round with her, John!" the Doctor calls -out. "They want us—I'm sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And away the gig goes again—plunging into -the great troughs and then swinging up to the -giddy crests. And as we get nearer and -nearer, what is the meaning of the Laird's -frantic gestures? We cannot understand him; -and it is impossible to hear, for the booming -of the sea into the caves drowns his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has lost his hat," says Angus Sutherland; -and then, the next second, "Where's the easel?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then we understand those wild gestures. -Pull away, merry men! for has not a squall -swept the studio of its movables? And there, -sure enough, tossing high and low on the -waves, we descry a variety of things—an easel, -two canvases, a hat, a veil, and what not. Up -with the boat-hook to the bow; and gently -with those plunges, you eager Hector of -Moidart!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so sorry," she says (or rather -shrieks), when her dripping property is -restored to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was my fault," our Doctor yells; "but -I will undertake to fasten your easel properly -this time"—and therewith he fetches a lump -of rock that might have moored a man-of-war.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We stay and have luncheon in this gusty -and thunderous studio—though Mary Avon -will scarcely turn from her canvas. And there -is no painting of pink geraniums about this -young woman's work. We see already that -she has got a thorough grip of this cold, hard -coast (the sun is obscured now, and the various -hues are more sombre than ever); and, -though she has not had time as yet to try to -catch the motion of the rolling sea, she has got -the colour of it—a leaden-grey, with glints of -blue and white, and with here and there a -sudden splash of deep, rich, glassy, bottle green, -where some wave for a moment catches, just -as it gets to the shore, a reflection from the -grass plateaus above. Very good, Miss Avon; -very good—but we pretend that we are not -looking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then away we go again, to leave the artist -to her work; and we go as near as possible—the -high sea will not allow us to enter—the -vast black caverns; and we watch through the -clear water for those masses of yellow rock. -And then the multitudes of white-breasted, -red-billed birds perched up there—close to the -small burrows in the scant grass; they jerk -their heads about in a watchful way just like -the prairie-dogs at the mouth of their sandy -habitations on the Colorado plains. And then -again a hundred or two of them come swooping -down from the rocky pinnacles and sail over -our heads—twinkling bits of colour between -the grey-green sea and the blue-and-white of -the sky. They resent the presence of strangers -in this far-home of the sea-birds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is a terrible business getting that young -lady and her paraphernalia back into the gig -again; for the sea is still heavy, and, of course, -additional care has now to be taken of the -precious canvas. But at last she, and the -Laird, and the luncheon-basket, and everything -else have been got on board; and away we go -for the yacht again, in the now clearing -afternoon. As we draw further away from the roar -of the caves, it is more feasible to talk; and -naturally we are all very complimentary about -Mary Avon's sketch in oils.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay," says the Laird, "and it wants but -one thing; and I am sure I could get Tom -Galbraith to put that in for you. A bit of a -yacht, ye know, or other sailing vessel, put -below the cliffs, would give people a notion of -the height of the cliffs, do ye see? I am -sure I could get Tom Galbraith to put that -in for ye."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope Miss Avon won't let Tom Galbraith -or anybody else meddle with the picture." -says Angus Sutherland, with some emphasis. -"Why, a yacht! Do you think anybody -would let a yacht come close to rocks like -these! As soon as you introduce any making-up -like that, the picture is a sham. It is the -real thing now, as it stands. Twenty years -hence you could take up that piece of canvas, -and there before you would be the very day -that you spent here—it would be like finding -your old life of twenty years before opened up -to you with a lightning-flash. The picture is—why -I should say it is invaluable, as it stands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this somewhat fierce praise, Mary Avon -colours a little. And then she says with a -gentle hypocrisy—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do you really think there is—there -is—some likeness to the place?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the place itself!" says he warmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because," she says, timidly, and yet with -a smile, "one likes to have one's work -appreciated, however stupid it may be. And—and—if -you think that—would you like to have -it? Because I should be so proud if you would -take it—only I am ashamed to offer my -sketches to anybody——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That!" said he, staring at the canvas as -if the mines of Golconda were suddenly opened -to him. But then he drew back. "Oh, no," -he said; "you are very kind—but—but, you -know, I cannot. You would think I had been -asking for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," says Miss Avon, still looking down, -"I never was treated like this before. You -won't take it? You don't think it is worth -putting in your portmanteau?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this the young Doctor's face grew very -red; but he said boldly—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, now, if you have been playing -fast and loose, you shall be punished. I </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> -take the picture, whether you grudge it me or -not. And I don't mean to give it up now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said she, very gently, "if it reminds -you of the place, I shall be very pleased—and—and -it may remind you too that I am not -likely to forget your kindness to poor Mrs. Thompson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so this little matter was amicably -settled—though the Laird looked with a covetous -eye on that rough sketch of the rocks of Canna, -and regretted that he was not to be allowed to -ask Tom Galbraith to put in a touch or two. -And so back to the yacht, and to dinner in the -silver clear evening; and how beautiful looked -this calm bay of Canna, with its glittering -waters and green shores, after the grim rocks -and the heavy Atlantic waves!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That evening we pursued the innocent lithe -again—our larder was becoming terribly -empty—and there was a fine take. But of more -interest to some of us than the big fish was -the extraordinary wonder of colour in sea and -sky when the sun had gone down; and there -was a wail on the part of the Laird that Mary -Avon had not her colours with her to put down -some jotting for further use. Or if on paper: -might not she write down something of what -she saw; and experiment thereafter? Well, -if any artist can make head or tail of words in -such a case as this, here they are for him—as -near as our combined forces of observation -could go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The vast plain of water around us a blaze of -salmon-red—with the waves (catching the -reflection of the zenith) marked in horizontal -lines of blue. The great headland of Canna, -between us and the western sky, a mass of -dark, intense olive-green. The sky over that -a pale, clear lemon-yellow. But the great -feature of this evening scene was a mass of -cloud that stretched all across the heavens—a -mass of flaming, thunderous, orange-red cloud -that began in the far pale mists in the east, -and came across the blue zenith overhead, -burning with a splendid glory there, and then -stretched over to the west, where it narrowed -down and was lost in the calm, clear gold of -the horizon. The splendour of this great -cloud was bewildering to the eyes; one turned -gratefully to the reflection of it in the sultry -red of the sea below, broken by the blue lines -of waves. Our attention was not wholly -given to the fishing or the boat on this lambent -evening; perhaps that was the reason we ran -on a rock, and with difficulty got off again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then back to the yacht again about eleven -o'clock. What is this terrible news from -Master Fred, who was sent off with instructions -to hunt up any stray crofter he might -find, and use such persuasions in the shape of -Gaelic friendliness and English money as would -enable us to replenish our larder? What! that -he had walked two miles and seen nothing -eatable or purchasable but an old hen? Canna -is a beautiful place; but we begin to think -it is time to be off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On this still night, with the stars coming -out, we cannot go below. We sit on deck and -listen to the musical whisper along the shore, -and watch one golden-yellow planet rising over -the dusky peaks of Rum, far in the east. And -our young Doctor is talking of the pathetic -notices that are common in the Scotch papers—in -the advertisements of deaths. "</span><em class="italics">New -Zealand papers, please copy.</em><span>" "</span><em class="italics">Canadian papers, -please copy.</em><span>" When you see this prayer -appended to the announcement of the death of -some old woman of seventy or seventy-five, -do you not know that it is a message to loved -ones in distant climes, wanderers who may -forget but who have not been forgotten? -They are messages that tell of a scattered -race—of a race that once filled the glens of -these now almost deserted islands. And surely, -when some birthday or other time of recollection -comes round, those far away,</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe,</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>must surely bethink themselves of the old -people left behind—living in Glasgow or -Greenock now, perhaps—and must bethink -themselves too of the land where last they -saw the bonny red heather, and where last -they heard the pipes playing the sad </span><em class="italics">Farewell, -MacCruimin</em><span> as the ship stood out to sea. -They cannot quite forget the scenes of their -youth—the rough seas and the red heather -and the islands; the wild dancing at the -weddings; the secret meetings in the glen, with -Ailasa, or Morag, or Mairi, come down from the -sheiling, all alone, a shawl round her head to -shelter her from the rain, her heart fluttering -like the heart of a timid fawn. They cannot -forget.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And we, too, we are going away; and it -may be that we shall never see this beautiful -bay or the island there again. But one of -us carries away with him a talisman for the -sudden revival of old memories. And twenty -years hence—that was his own phrase—what -will Angus Sutherland—perhaps a very great -and rich person by that time—what will he -think when he turns to a certain picture, and -recalls the long summer day when he rowed -with Mary Avon round the wild shores of Canna?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="dunvegan-oh-dunvegan"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"DUNVEGAN!—OH! DUNVEGAN!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Commander Mary Avon sends her orders -below: everything to be made snug in the -cabins, for there is a heavy sea running -outside, and the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> is already under way. -Farewell, then, you beautiful blue bay—all -rippled into silver now with the breeze—and -green shores and picturesque cliffs! We should -have lingered here another day or two, -perhaps, but for the report about that one old -hen. We cannot ration passengers and crew -on one old hen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And here, as we draw away from Canna, is -the vast panorama of the sea-world around us -once more—the mighty mountain range of -Skye shining faintly in the northern skies; -Haleval and Haskeval still of a gloomy purple -in the east; and away beyond these leagues of -rushing Atlantic the clear blue line of North -Uist. Whither are we bound, then, you small -captain with the pale face and the big, soft, -tender black eyes? Do you fear a shower of -spray that you have strapped that tightly-fitting -ulster round the graceful small figure? And -are you quite sure that you know whether the -wind is on the port or starboard beam?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look! look! look!" she calls, and our -F.R.S., who has been busy over the charts, -jumps to his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just at the bow of the vessel we see the -great shining black thing disappear. What if -there had been a collision?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You cannot call </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> a porpoise, any way," -says she. "Why, it must have been eighty -feet long!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yacht measurement," says he. "But -it had a back fin, which is suspicious, and it -did not blow. Now," he adds—for we have -been looking all round for the re-appearance -of the huge stranger—"if you want to see -real whales at work, just look over there, close -under Rum. I should say there was a whole -shoal of them in the Sound."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And there, sure enough, we see from time to -time the white spoutings—rising high into the -air in the form of the letter V, and slowly -falling again. They are too far away for us -to hear the sound of their blowing, nor can we -catch any glimpse, through the best of our -glasses, of their appearance at the surface. -Moreover, the solitary stranger that nearly -ran against our bows makes no reappearance; -he has had enough of the wonders of the -upper world for a time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is a fine sailing morning, and we pay but -little attention to the fact that the wind, as -usual, soon gets to be dead ahead. So long -as the breeze blows, and the sun shines, and -the white spray flies from the bows of the -</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>, what care we which harbour is -to shelter us for the night? And if we cannot -get into any harbour, what then? We carry -our own kingdom with us; and we are far from -being dependent on the one old hen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in the midst of much laughing at one -of the Laird's good ones—the inexhaustible -Homesh was again to the fore—a head appears -at the top of the companion-way; and there is -a respectful silence. Unseemly mirth dies away -before the awful dignity of this person.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Angus," she says, with a serious remonstrance -on her face, "do you believe what -scientific people tell you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Angus Sutherland starts, and looks up; he -has been deep in a chart of Loch Bracadaile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't they say that water finds its own -level? Now do you call this water finding -its own level?"—and as she propounds this -conundrum, she clings on tightly to the side -of the companion, for, in truth, the </span><em class="italics">White -Dove</em><span> is curveting a good deal among those -great masses of waves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Another tumbler broken!" she exclaims. -"Now who left that tumbler on the table?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," says Mary Avon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was it then?" says the occupant of -the companion-way; and we begin to tremble -for the culprit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you yourself!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mary Avon, how can you tell such a -story!" says the other, with a stern face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but that is so," calls out our Doctor, -"for I myself saw you bring the tumbler out -of the ladies' cabin with water for the flowers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The universal shout of laughter that -overwhelms Madame Dignity is too much for her. -A certain conscious, lurking smile begins to -break through the sternness of her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't believe a word of it," she declares, -firing a shot as she retreats. "Not a word -of it. You are two conspirators. To tell such -a story about a tumbler—-!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at this moment a further assault is made -on the majesty of this imperious small -personage. There is a thunder at the bows; a -rattling as of pistol-shots on the decks forward; -and at the same moment the fag-ends of the -spray come flying over the after part of the -yacht. What becomes of one's dignity when -one gets a shower of salt water over one's head -and neck? Go down below, madam!—retreat, -retreat, discomfited!—go, dry your face and -your bonny brown hair—and bother us no -more with your broken tumbler!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And despite those plunging seas and the -occasional showers of spray, Mary Avon still -clings bravely to the rope that is round the -tiller; and as we are bearing over for Skye on -one long tack, she has no need to change her -position. And if from time to time her face -gets wet with the salt water, is it not quickly -dried again in the warm sun and the breeze? -Sun and salt water and sea-air will soon chase -away the pallor from that gentle face: cannot -one observe already—after only a few days' -sailing—a touch of sun-brown on her cheeks?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now we are drawing nearer and nearer -to Skye, and before us lies the lonely Loch -Breatal, just under the splendid Coolins. See -how the vast slopes of the mountains appear -to come sheer down to the lake; and there is a -soft, sunny green on them—a beautiful, tender, -warm colour that befits a summer day. But far -above and beyond those sunny slopes a -different sight appears. All the clouds of this -fair day have gathered round the upper -portions of the mountains; and that solitary range -of black and jagged peaks is dark in shadow, -dark as if with the expectation of thunder. The -Coolins are not beloved of mariners. Those -beautiful sunlit ravines are the secret haunts -of hurricanes that suddenly come out to strike -the unwary yachtsman as with the blow of -a hammer. </span><em class="italics">Stand by, forward, then, lads! -About ship! Down with the helm, Captain -Avon!</em><span>—and behold! we are sailing away -from the black Coolins, and ahead of us there -is only the open sea, and the sunlight shining -on the far cliffs of Canna.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When your course is due north," remarks -Angus Sutherland, who has relieved Mary Avon -at the helm, "and when the wind is due north, -you get a good deal of sailing for your money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The profound truth of this remark becomes -more and more apparent as the day passes -in a series of long tacks which do not seem to -be bringing those far headlands of Skye much -nearer to us. And if we are beating in this -heavy sea all day and night, is there not a -chance of one or other of our women-folk -collapsing? They are excellent sailors, to be -sure—but—but—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Sutherland is consulted. Dr. Sutherland's -advice is prompt and emphatic. His -sole and only precaution against sea-sickness -is simple: resolute eating and drinking. Cure -for sea-sickness, after it has set in, he declares -there is none: to prevent it, eat and drink, -and let the drink be </span><em class="italics">brut</em><span> champagne. So our -two prisoners are ordered below to undergo -that punishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, perhaps, it is the </span><em class="italics">brut</em><span> champagne, or -perhaps it is merely the snugness of our little -luncheon-party that prompts Miss Avon to -remark on the exceeding selfishness of yachting -and to suggest a proposal that fairly takes away -our breath by its audacity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now," she says, cheerfully, "I could tell -you how you could occupy an idle day on -board a yacht so that you would give a great -deal of happiness—quite a shock of delight—to -a large number of people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, we are all attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At what cost?" says the financier of our party.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At no cost."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This is still more promising. Why should -not we instantly set about making all those -people happy?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All that you have got to do is to get a copy of -the </span><em class="italics">Field</em><span> or of the </span><em class="italics">Times</em><span> or some such paper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes; and how are we to get any such thing? -Rum has no post-office. No mail calls at -Canna. Newspapers do not grow on the rocks -of Loch Bracadaile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"However, let us suppose that we have the paper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well. All you have to do is to -sit down and take the advertisements, and -write to the people, accepting all their -offers on their own terms. The man who -wants 500*l.* for his shooting in the autumn; -the man who will sell his steam-yacht for -7,000*l,*; the curate who will take in another -youth to board at 200*l.* a year; the lady who -wants to let her country-house during the -London season; all the people who are anxious -to sell things. You offer to take them all. If a -man has a yacht to let on hire, you will pay for -new jerseys for the men. If a man has a house -to be let, you will take all the fixtures at his -own valuation. All you have to do is to write -two or three hundred letters—as an anonymous -person, of course—and you make two or three -hundred people quite delighted for perhaps a -whole week!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird stared at this young lady as if she -had gone mad; but there was only a look of -complacent friendliness on Mary Avon's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean that you write sham letters?" -says her hostess. "You gull those unfortunate -people into believing that all their wishes are -realised?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you make them happy!" says Mary -Avon, confidently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—and the disappointment afterwards!" -retorts her friend, almost with indignation. -"Imagine their disappointment when they find -they have been duped! Of course they would -write letters and discover that the anonymous -person had no existence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no!" says Mary Avon, eagerly. -"There could be no such great disappointment. -The happiness would be definite and real for -the time. The disappointment would only be -a slow and gradual thing when they found no -answer coming to their letter. You would -make them happy for a whole week or so by -accepting their offer; whereas by not answering -their letter or letters you would only puzzle -them, and the matter would drop away into -forgetfulness. Do you not think it would be -an excellent scheme?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Come on deck, you people; this girl has got -demented. And behold! as we emerge once -more into the sunlight and whirling spray and -wind, we find that we are nearing Skye again -on the port tack, and now it is the mouth of -Loch Bracadaile that we are approaching. And -these pillars of rock, outstanding from the cliffs, -and worn by the northern seas?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, these must be Macleod's Maidens!" -says Angus Sutherland, unrolling one of the -charts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then he discourses to us of the curious -fancies of sailors—passing the lonely coasts -from year to year—and recognising as old -friends, not any living thing, but the strange -conformations of the rocks—and giving to these -the names of persons and of animals. And he -thinks there is something more weird and -striking about these solitary and sea-worn rocks -fronting the great Atlantic than about any -comparatively modern Sphinx or Pyramid; until -we regard the sunlit pillars, and their fretted -surface and their sharp shadows, with a sort of -morbid imagination; and we discover how the -sailors have fancied them to be stone women; -and we see in the largest of them—her head -and shoulder tilted over a bit—some resemblance -to the position of the Venus discovered -at Milo. All this is very fine; but suddenly the -sea gets darkened over there; a squall comes -roaring out of Loch Bracadaile; John of Skye -orders the boat about; and presently we are -running free before this puff from the -north-east. Alas! alas! we have no sooner got -out of the reach of the squall than the wind -backs to the familiar north, and our laborious -beating has to be continued as before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we are not discontented. Is it not -enough, as the golden and glowing afternoon -wears on, to listen to the innocent prattle of -Denny-mains, whose mind has been fired by -the sight of those pillars of rock. He tells -us a great many remarkable things—about -the similarity between Gaelic and Irish, and -between Welsh and Armorican; and he discusses -the use of the Druidical stones, as to -whether the priests followed serpent-worship -or devoted those circles to human sacrifice. -He tells us about the Picts and Scots; about -Fingal and Ossian; about the doings of Arthur -in his kingdom of Strathclyde. It is a most -innocent sort of prattle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir," says our Doctor—quite gravely—though -we are not quite sure that he is not -making fun of our simple-hearted Laird, "there -can be no doubt that the Aryan race that first -swept over Europe spoke a Celtic language, -more or less akin to Gaelic, and that they were -pushed out, by successive waves of population, -into Brittany, and Wales, and Ireland, and the -Highlands. And I often wonder whether it -was they themselves that modestly call themselves -the foreigners or strangers, and affixed -that name to the land they laid hold of, from -Galicia and Gaul to Galloway and Galway? -The Gaelic word </span><em class="italics">gall</em><span>, a stranger, you find -everywhere. Fingal himself is only </span><em class="italics">Fionn-gall</em><span>—the -Fair Stranger; </span><em class="italics">Dubh-gall</em><span>—that is, the -familiar Dugald—or the Black Stranger—is -what the Islay people call a Lowlander. -</span><em class="italics">Ru-na-Gaul</em><span>, that we passed the other day—that -is the Foreigner's Point. I think there -can be no doubt that the tribes that first -brought Aryan civilisation through the west -of Europe spoke Gaelic or something like -Gaelic."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay," said the Laird, doubtfully. He was -not sure of this young man. He had heard -something about Gaelic being spoken in the -Garden of Eden, and suspected there might be -a joke lying about somewhere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, there was no joking about our -F.R.S. when he began to tell Mary Avon how, -if he had time and sufficient interest in such -things, he would set to work to study the -Basque people and their language—that -strange remnant of the old race who inhabited -the west of Europe long before Scot, or Briton, -or Roman, or Teuton had made his appearance -on the scene. Might they not have traditions, -or customs, or verbal survivals to tell us of -their pre-historic forefathers? The Laird -seemed quite shocked to hear that his favourite -Picts and Scots—and Fingal and Arthur and -all the rest of them—were mere modern -interlopers. What of the mysterious race that -occupied these islands before the great Aryan -tide swept over from the East?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, this was bad enough; but when the -Doctor proceeded to declare his conviction that -no one had the least foundation for the various -conjectures about the purposes of those so-called -Druidical stones—that it was all a matter -of guess-work whether as regarded council-halls, -grave-stones, altars, or serpent-worship—and -that it was quite possible these stones were -erected by the non-Aryan race who inhabited -Europe before either Gaul or Roman or -Teuton came west, the Laird interrupted him, -triumphantly—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," says he, "the very names of those -stones show they are of Celtic origin—will ye -dispute that? What is the meaning of </span><em class="italics">Carnac</em><span>, -that is in Brittany—eh? Ye know Gaelic?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I know that much," said Angus, -laughing. "Carnac means simply the place of -piled stones. But the Celts may have found -the stones there, and given them that name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think," says Miss Avon, profoundly, -"that when you go into a question of names, -you can prove anything. And I suppose -Gaelic is as accommodating as any other -language."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Angus Sutherland did not answer for a -moment; but at last he said, rather shyly—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gaelic is a very complimentary language, -at all events. Beau is 'a woman;' and -bean-nachd is 'a blessing.' </span><em class="italics">An ti a bheannaich -thu</em><span>—that is, 'the one who blessed you.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very pretty; only we did not know how -wildly the young man might not be falsifying -Gaelic grammar in order to say something nice -to Mary Avon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience works wonders. Dinner-time finds -us so far across the Minch that we can make -out the lighthouse of South Uist. And all -these outer Hebrides are now lying in a flood -of golden-red light; and on the cliffs of Canna, -far away in the south-east, and now dwarfed so -that they lie like a low wall on the sea, there is -a paler red, caught from the glare of the sunset. -And here is the silver tinkle of Master Fred's bell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On deck after dinner; and the night air is -cooler now; and there are cigars about; and -our young F.R.S. is at the tiller; and Mary -Avon is singing, apparently to herself, -something about a Berkshire farmer's daughter. -The darkness deepens, and the stars come out; -and there is one star—larger than the rest, and -low down, and burning a steady red—that we -know to be Ushinish lighthouse. And then -from time to time the silence is broken by, -"</span><em class="italics">Stand by, forrard! 'Bout ship!</em><span>" and there -is a rattling of blocks and cordage and then the -head-sails fill and away she goes again on the -other tack. We have got up to the long -headlands of Skye at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Clear as the night is, the wind still comes in -squalls, and we have the topsail down. Into -which indentation of that long, low line of dark -land shall we creep in the darkness?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But John of Skye keeps away from the land. -It is past midnight. There is nothing visible -but the black sea and the clear sky, and the -red star of the lighthouse; nothing audible but -Mary Avon's humming to herself and her -friend—the two women sit arm-in-arm under -half-a-dozen of rugs—some old-world ballad -to the monotonous accompaniment of the -passing seas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One o'clock: Ushinish light is smaller now, -a minute point of red fire, and the black line of -land on our right looms larger in the dusk. -Look at the splendour of the phosphorous-stars -on the rushing waves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And at last John of Skye says in an -undertone to Angus—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will the leddies be going below now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Going below!" he says in reply. "They -are waiting till we get to anchor. We must be -just off Dunvegan Loch now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then John of Skye makes his confession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes; I been into Dunvegan Loch more -as two or three times; but I not like the dark -to be with us in going in; and if we lie off till -the daylight comes, the leddies they can go -below to their peds. And if Dr. Sutherland -himself would like to see the channel in -going in, will I send below when the daylight -comes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, John; thank you," is the answer. -"When I turn in, I turn in for good. I will -leave you to find out the channel for yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so there is a clearance of the deck, and -rugs and camp-stools handed down the -companion. </span><em class="italics">Deoch-an-doruis</em><span> in the candle-lit -saloon? To bed—to bed!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is about five o'clock in the morning that -the swinging out of the anchor-chain causes the -yacht to tremble from stem to stern; and the -sleepers start in their sleep, but are vaguely -aware that they are at a safe anchorage at last. -And do you know where the brave </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> -is lying now? Surely if the new dawn brings -any stirring of wind—and if there is a sound -coming over to us from this far land of legend -and romance—it is the wild, sad wail of -Dunvegan! The mists are clearing from the hills; -the day breaks wan and fair; the great grey -castle, touched by the early sunlight, looks -down on the murmuring sea. And is it the -sea, or is it the cold wind of the morning, that -sings and sings to us in our dreams—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Dunvegan—oh! Dunvegan!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="drawing-nearer"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">DRAWING NEARER.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>She is all alone on deck. The morning -sun shines on the beautiful blue bay; on -the great castle perched on the rocks over -there; and on the wooded green hills beyond. -She has got a canvas fixed on her easel; she -sings to herself as she works.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now this English young lady must have -beguiled the tedium of her long nursing in -Edinburgh by making a particular acquaintance -with Scotch ballads; or how otherwise could -we account for her knowledge of the "Song of -Ulva," and now of the "Song of Dunvegan?"</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Macleod the faithful, and fearing none!</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Dunvegan—oh! Dunvegan!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>—she hums to herself as she is busy with this -rough sketch of sea and shore. How can she -be aware that Angus Sutherland is at this -very moment in the companion way, and not -daring to stir hand or foot lest he should -disturb her?</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Friends and foes had our passion thwarted,</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>she croons to herself, though, indeed, there is -no despair at all in her voice, but a perfect -contentment—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But true, tender, and lion-hearted,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Lived he on, and from life departed,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Macleod, whose rival is breathing none!</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Dunvegan—oh, Dunvegan!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>She is pleased with the rapidity of her work. -She tries to whistle a little bit. Or, perhaps -it is only the fresh morning air that has put -her in such good spirits?</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Yestreen the Queen had four Maries.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>What has that got to do with the sketch of -the shining grey castle? Among these tags -and ends of ballads, the young Doctor at last -becomes emboldened to put in an appearance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, Miss Avon," says he; "you -are busy at work again?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She is not in the least surprised. She has -got accustomed to his coming on deck before -the others; they have had a good deal of quiet -chatting while as yet the Laird was only adjusting -his high white collar and satin neckcloth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is only a sketch," said she, in a rapid -and highly business-like fashion, "but I think -I shall be able to sell it. You know most -people merely value pictures for their -association with things they are interested in -themselves. A Yorkshire farmer would rather have -a picture of his favourite cob than any Raphael -or Titian. And the ordinary English squire: -I am sure that you know in his own heart he -prefers one of Herring's farm yard pieces to -Leonardo's </span><em class="italics">Last Supper</em><span>. Well, if some -yachting gentleman, who has been in this loch, -should see this sketch, he will probably buy it, -however bad it is, just because it interests -him——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you don't really mean to sell it?" said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That depends," said she demurely, "on -whether I get any offer for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," he exclaimed, "the series of pictures -you are now making should be an invaluable -treasure to you all your life long: a permanent -record of a voyage that you seem to enjoy -very much. I almost shrink from robbing you -of that one of Canna; still, the temptation is -too great. And you propose to sell them all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What I can sell of them," she says; and -then she adds, rather shyly, "You know I -could not very well afford to keep them all -for myself. I—I have a good many almoners -in London; and I devote to them what I can -get for my scrawls—that is, I deduct the cost -of the frames, and keep the rest for them. It -is not a large sum."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Any other woman would spend it in jewellery -and dresses," says he bluntly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this, Miss Mary Avon flushes slightly, -and hastily draws his attention to a small boat -that is approaching. Dr. Sutherland does not -pay any heed to the boat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He is silent for a second or so; and then -he says, with an effort to talk in a cheerful -and matter-of-fact way—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have not sent ashore yet this morning: -don't you know there is a post-office at -Dunvegan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes; I heard so. But the men are -below at breakfast, I think, and I am in no -hurry to send, for there won't be any letters -for me, I know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, indeed," he says, with seeming carelessness, -"it must be a long time since you -have heard from your friends."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not many friends to hear from," she -answers, with a light laugh, "and those I have -don't trouble me with many letters. I -suppose they think I am in very good hands at -present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes—no doubt," says he, and suddenly -he begins to talk in warm terms of the -delightfulness of the voyage. He is quite charmed -with the appearance of Dunvegan Loch and -castle. A more beautiful morning he never -saw. And in the midst of all this enthusiasm -the small boat comes alongside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is an old man in the boat, and when -he has fastened his oars, he says a few words -to Angus Sutherland, and hands up a big black -bottle. Our young Doctor brings the bottle -over to Mary Avon. He seems to be very -much pleased with everything this morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, is not that good-natured?" says he. -"It is a bottle of fresh milk, with the -compliments of ——, of Uginish. Isn't it -good-natured?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, indeed it is," says she, plunging her -hand into her pocket. "You must let me give -the messenger half-a-crown."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no; that is not the Highland custom," -says the Doctor; and therewith he goes below, -and fetches up another black bottle, and pours -out a glass of whiskey with his own hand, and -presents it to the ancient boatman. You -should have seen the look of surprise in the -old man's face when Angus Sutherland said -something to him in the Gaelic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And alas! and alas!—as we go ashore on -this beautiful bright day, we have to give up -for ever the old Dunvegan of many a dream—the -dark and solitary keep that we had -imagined perched high above the Atlantic -breakers—the sheer precipices, the awful -sterility, the wail of lamentation along the lonely -shores. This is a different picture altogether -that Mary Avon has been trying to put down -on her canvas—a spacious, almost modern-looking, -but nevertheless picturesque castle, -sheltered from the winds by softly wooded -hills, a bit of smooth, blue water below, and -further along the shores the cheerful evidences -of fertility and cultivation. The wail of -Dunvegan? Why, here is a brisk and thriving -village, with a post-office, and a shop, and a -building that looks uncommonly like an inn; -and there, dotted all about, and encroaching -on the upper moorland, any number of those -small crofts that were once the pride of the -Highlands and that gave to England the most -stalwart of her regiments. Here are no ruined -huts and voiceless wastes; but a cheerful, busy -picture of peasant-life; the strapping wenches -at work in the small farm-yards, well-built and -frank of face; the men well clad; the children -well fed and merry enough. It is a scene that -delights the heart of our good friend of -Denny-mains. If we had but time, he would fain go -in among the tiny farms, and inquire about the -rent of the holdings, and the price paid for -those picturesque little beasts that the artists -are for ever painting—with a louring sky -beyond, and a dash of sunlight in front. But -our Doctor is obdurate. He will not have -Mary Avon walk further; she must return -to the yacht.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But on our way back, as she is walking -by the side of the road, he suddenly puts his -hand on her arm, apparently to stop her. -Slight as the touch is, she naturally looks -surprised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon," he says, hastily, "but -I thought you would rather not tread on it——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He is regarding a weed by the wayside—a -thing that looks like a snapdragon of some -sort. We did not expect to find a hard-headed -man of science betray this trumpery sentiment -about a weed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you would rather not tread upon -it when you knew it was a stranger," he says, -in explanation of that rude assault upon her -arm. "That is not an English plant at all; -it is the </span><em class="italics">Mimulus</em><span>, its real home is in America."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We began to look with more interest on -the audacious small foreigner that had boldly -adventured across the seas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," she says, looking back along the -road, "I hope I have not trampled any of -them down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it does not </span><em class="italics">much</em><span> matter," he admits, -"for the plant is becoming quite common now -in parts of the West Highlands; but I thought -as it was a stranger, and come all the way -across the Atlantic on a voyage of discovery, -you would be hospitable. I suppose the -Gulf-stream brought the first of them over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if they had any choice in the matter," -says Mary Avon, looking down, and speaking -with a little self-conscious deliberation, "and -if they wanted to be hospitably received, they -showed their good sense in coming to the -West Highlands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After that there was a dead silence on the -part of Angus Sutherland. But why should -he have been embarrassed? There was no -compliment levelled at him that he should -blush like a schoolboy. It was quite true that -Miss Avon's liking—even love—for the West -Highlands was becoming very apparent; but -Banffshire is not in the West Highlands. -What although Angus Sutherland could speak -a few words in the Gaelic tongue to an old -boatman? He came from Banff. Banffshire -is not in the West Highlands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then that afternoon at the great castle -itself: what have we but a confused recollection -of twelfth-century towers; and walls nine -feet thick; and ghost-chambers; and a certain -fairy-flag, that is called the </span><em class="italics">Bratach-Sith</em><span>; and -the wide view over the blue Atlantic; and of -a great kindness that made itself visible in the -way of hothouse flowers and baskets of fruit, -and what not? The portraits, too: the -various centuries got mixed up with the old -legends, until we did not know in which face -to look for some transmitted expression that -might tell of the Cave of Uig or the Uamh-na-Ceann. -But there was one portrait there, quite -modern, and beautiful, that set all the tourist-folk -a raving, so lovely were the life-like eyes -of it; and the Laird was bold enough to say -to the gentle lady who was so good as to be -our guide, that it would be one of the greatest -happinesses of his life if he might be allowed -to ask Mr. Galbraith, the well-known artist of -Edinburgh, to select a young painter to come -up to Dunvegan and make a copy of this -picture for him, Denny-mains. And -Dr. Sutherland could scarcely come away from -that beautiful face; and our good Queen T. was -quite charmed with it; and as for Mary -Avon, when one of us regarded her, behold! as -she looked up, there was a sort of moisture -in the soft black eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What was she thinking of? That it must -be a fine thing to be so beautiful a woman, and -charm the eyes of all men? But now—now -that we had had this singing-bird with us on -board the yacht for so long a time—would any -one of us have admitted that she was rather -plain? It would not have gone well with any -one who had ventured to say so to the Laird -of Denny-mains, at all events. And as for our -sovereign-lady and mistress, these were the -lines which she always said described Mary Avon:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Was never seen thing to be praised derre,[#]</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor under blacke cloud so bright a sterre,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As she was, as they saiden, every one</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That her behelden in her blacke weed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And yet she stood, full low and still, alone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Behind all other folk, in little brede,[#]</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And nigh the door, ay under shame's drede;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Simple of bearing, debonair of cheer,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a full surë[#] looking and mannere.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] </span><em class="italics small">derre</em><span class="small">, dearer.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">[#] </span><em class="italics small">in little brede</em><span class="small">, without display.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">[#] </span><em class="italics small">surë</em><span class="small">, frank.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>How smart the saloon of the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> -looked that evening at dinner, with those -geraniums, and roses, and fuchsias, and what -not, set amid the tender green of the maidenhair -fern! But all the same there was a serious -discussion. Fruit, flowers, vegetables, and -fresh milk, however welcome, fill no larder; -and Master Fred had returned with the doleful -tale that all his endeavours to purchase a sheep -at one of the neighbouring farms had been -of no avail. Forthwith we resolve to make -another effort. Far away, on the outer shores -of Dunvegan Loch, we can faintly descry, in -the glow of the evening, some crofter's huts -on the slopes of the hill. Down with the gig, -then, boys; in with the fishing-rods; and -away for the distant shores, where haply, some -tender ewe-lamb, or brace of quacking duck, -or some half-dozen half-starved fowls may be -withdrawn from the reluctant tiller of the -earth!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is a beautiful clear evening, with -lemon-gold glory in the north-west. And our -stout-sinewed Doctor is rowing stroke, and there is -a monotonous refrain of</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"We must give you a wage as one of the -hands, Angus," says Queen T.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am paid already," says he. "I would -work my passage through for the sketch of -Canna that Miss Avon gave me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you like to ask the other men -whether they would take the same payment?" -says Miss Avon, in modest depreciation of -her powers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not say anything against the landscape -ye gave to Dr. Sutherland," observes the -Laird. "No, no; there is great merit in it. -I have told ye before I would like to show -it to Tom Galbraith before it goes south; I -am sure he would approve of it. Indeed, he -is jist such a friend of mine that I would take -the leeberty of asking him to give it a bit -touch here and there—what an experienced -artist would see amiss ye know——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Galbraith may be an experienced -artist," says our Doctor friend with unnecessary -asperity, "but he is not going to touch -that picture."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah can tell ye," says the Laird, who is -rather hurt by this rejection, "that the advice -of Tom Galbraith has been taken by the -greatest artists in England. He was up in -London last year, and was at the studio of -one of the first of the Acadameecians, and that -very man was not ashamed to ask the opeenion -of Tom Galbraith. And says Tom to him, -'The face is very fine, but the right arm is out -of drawing.' You would think that impertinent? -The Acadameecian, I can tell you, -thought differently. Says he, 'That has been -my own opeenion, but no one would ever tell -me so; and I would have left it as it is had -ye no spoken.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no doubt the Academacian who did -not know when his picture was out of drawing -was quite right to take the advice of Tom -Galbraith," says our stroke-oar. "But Tom -Galbraith is not going to touch Miss Avon's -sketch of Canna——" and here the fierce -altercation is stopped, for stroke-oar puts a -fresh spurt on, and we hear another sound—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Soon the freshening breeze will blow.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Well show the snowy canvas on her,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Well, what was the result of our quest? -After we had landed Master Fred, and sent -him up the hills, and gone off fishing for lithe -for an hour or so, we returned to the shore -in the gathering dusk. We found our -messenger seated on a rock, contentedly singing -a Gaelic song, and plucking a couple of fowls -which was all the provender he had secured. -It was in vain that he tried to cheer us by -informing us that the animals in question had -cost only sixpence a-piece. We knew that -they were not much bigger than thrushes. -Awful visions of tinned meats began to rise -before us. In gloom we took the steward and -the microscopic fowls on board, and set out -for the yacht.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Laird did not lose his spirits. He -declared that self-preservation was the first law -of nature, and that, despite the injunctions of -the Wild Birds' Protection Act, he would get -out his gun and shoot the first brood of -"flappers" he saw about those lonely lochs. -And he told us such a "good one" about -Homesh that we laughed nearly all the way -back to the yacht. Provisions? We were -independent of provisions! With a handful -of rice a day we would cross the Atlantic—we -would cross twenty Atlantics—so long as -we were to be regaled and cheered by the -"good ones" of our friend of Denny-mains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Sutherland, too, seemed in no wise -depressed by the famine in the land. In the -lamp-lit saloon, as we gathered round the -table, and cards and things were brought out, -and the Laird began to brew his toddy, the -young Doctor maintained that no one on land -could imagine the snugness of life on board a -yacht. And now he had almost forgotten to -speak of leaving us; perhaps it was the -posting of the paper on Radiolarians, along with -other MSS., that had set his mind free. But -touching that matter of the Dunvegan -post-office: why had he been so particular in -asking Mary Avon if she were not expecting -letters; and why did he so suddenly grow -enthusiastic about the scenery on learning that -the young lady, on her travels, was not -pestered with correspondence? Miss Avon was -not a Cabinet Minister.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-old-school-and-the-new"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The last instructions given to John of Skye -that night were large and liberal. At break -of day he was to sail for any port he might -chance to encounter on the wide seas. So -long as Angus Sutherland did not speak of -returning, what did it matter to us?—Loch -Boisdale, Loch Seaforth, Stornaway, St. Kilda, -the North Pole were all the same. It is true -that of fresh meat we had on board only two -fowls about the size of wrens; but of all -varieties of tinned meats and fruit we had an -abundant store. And if perchance we were -forced to shoot a sheep on the Flannen Islands, -would not the foul deed be put down to the -discredit of those dastardly Frenchmen? -When you rise up as a nation and guillotine -all the respectable folk in the country, it is -only to be expected of you thereafter that you -should go about the seas shooting other -people's sheep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And indeed when we get on deck after breakfast, -we find that John of Skye has fulfilled -his instructions to the letter; that is to say, -he must have started at daybreak to get away -so far from Dunvegan and the headlands of -Skye. But as for going farther? There is -not a speck of cloud in the dome of blue; -there is not a ripple on the dazzling sea; there -is not a breath of wind to stir the great white -sails all aglow in the sunlight; nor is there -even enough of the Atlantic swell to move -the indolent tiller. How John of Skye has -managed to bring us so far on so calm a -morning remains a mystery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the glass shows no signs of falling," -says our young Doctor quite regretfully: does -he long for a hurricane, that so he may exhibit -his sailor-like capacities?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mary Avon, with a practical air, is -arranging her easel on deck, and fixing up a -canvas, and getting out the tubes she -wants—the while she absently sings to herself -something about</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Beauty lies</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In many eyes,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But love in yours, my Nora Creina.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And what will she attack now? Those long -headlands of Skye, dark in shadow, with a -glow of sunlight along their summits; or those -lonely hills of Uist set far amid the melancholy -main; or those vaster and paler mountains of -Harris, that rise on the north of the dreaded -Sound?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> courage," says Angus -Sutherland, admiringly, "to try to make a -picture out of </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," she says, modestly, though she is -obviously pleased, "that is a pet theory of -mine. I try for ordinary every-day effects, -without any theatrical business; and if I had -only the power to reach them, I know I -should surprise people. Because you know -most people go through the world with a sort -of mist before their eyes; and they are awfully -grateful to you when you suddenly clap a pair -of spectacles on their nose and make them see -things as they are. I cannot do it as yet, -you know; but there is no harm in trying."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you do it remarkably well," he -says; "but what are you to make of -that?—nothing but two great sheets of blue, with -a line of bluer hills between?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Miss Avon speedily presents us with -the desired pair of spectacles. Instead of the -cloudless blue day we had imagined it to be, -we find that there are low masses of white -cloud along the Skye cliffs, and these throw -long reflections on the glassy sea, and -moreover we begin to perceive that the calm -vault around us is not an uninterrupted blue, -but melts into a pale green as it nears the -eastern horizon. Angus Sutherland leaves the -artist to her work. He will not interrupt her -by idle talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is no idle talk going forward where -the Laird is concerned. He has got hold of -an attentive listener in the person of his -hostess, who is deep in needlework; and he -is expounding to her more clearly than ever -the merits of the great Semple case, pointing -out more particularly how the charges in the -major proposition are borne out by the -extracts in the minor. Yes; and he has caught -the critics, too, on the hip. What about -the discovery of those clever gentlemen that -Genesis X. and 10 was incorrect? They -thought they were exceedingly smart in -proving that the founders of Babel were the -descendants, not of Ham, but of Shem. But -when the ruins of Babel were examined, -what then?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, it was distinctly shown that the -founders were the descendants of Ham, after -all!" says Denny-mains, triumphantly. "What -do ye think of that, Dr. Sutherland?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Angus Sutherland starts from a reverie: he -has not been listening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of what?" he says. "The Semple case?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well," he says, rather carelessly, "all -that wrangling is as good an occupation as -any other—to keep people from thinking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird stares, as if he had not heard -aright. Angus Sutherland is not aware of -having said anything startling. He continues -quite innocently—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Any occupation is valuable enough that -diverts the mind—that is why hard work is -conducive to complete mental health; it does -not matter whether it is grouse-shooting, or -commanding an army, or wrangling about -major or minor propositions. If a man were -continually to be facing the awful mystery of -existence—asking the record of the earth and -the stars how he came to be here, and getting -no answer at all—he must inevitably go mad. -The brain could not stand it. If the human -race had not busied itself with wars and -commerce, and so forth, it must centuries ago -have committed suicide. That is the value -of hard work—to keep people from thinking -of the unknown around them; the more a -man is occupied, the happier he is—it does -not matter whether he occupies himself with -School Boards, or salmon-fishing, or the -prosecution of a heretic."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not remark the amazed look on the -Laird's face, nor yet that Mary Avon had -dropped her painting and was listening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fact is," he said, with a smile, "if you -are likely to fall to thinking about the real -mysteries of existence anywhere, it is among -solitudes like these, where you see what a -trivial little accident human life is in the -history of the earth. You can't think about such -things in Regent Street; the cigar-shops, the -cabs, the passing people occupy you. But -here you are brought back as it were to all -sorts of first principles; and commonplaces -appear somehow in their original freshness. -In Regent Street you no doubt know that -life is a strange thing, and that death is a -strange thing, because you have been told so, -and you believe it, and think no more about -it. But here—with the seas and skies round -you, and with the silence of the night making -you think, you </span><em class="italics">feel</em><span> the strangeness of these -things. Now just look over there; the blue -sea, and the blue sky, and the hills—it is a -curious thing to think that they will be shining -there just as they are now—on just such -another day as this—and you unable to see -them or anything else—passed away like a -ghost. And the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> will be sailing -up here; and John will be keeping an eye on -Ushinish lighthouse; but your eyes won't be -able to see anything——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Angus, I do declare," exclaims our -sovereign mistress, "you have chosen a -comforting thing to talk about this morning. Are -we to be always thinking about our coffin?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the contrary," says the young Doctor; -"I was only insisting on the wholesomeness of -people occupying themselves diligently with -some distraction or other, however trivial. And -how do you think the Semple case will end, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But our good friend of Denny-mains was far -too deeply shocked and astounded to reply. -The great Semple case a trivial thing—a -distraction—an occupation to keep people from -serious thinking! The public duties, too, of the -Commissioner for the Burgh of Strathgovan; -were these to be regarded as a mere plaything? -The new steam fire-engine was only a toy, -then? The proposed new park and the addition -to the rates were to be regarded as a piece -of amiable diversion?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird knew that Angus Sutherland had -not read the </span><em class="italics">Vestiges of Creation</em><span>, and that -was a hopeful sign. But, </span><em class="italics">Vestiges</em><span> or no -</span><em class="italics">Vestiges</em><span>, what were the young men of the day -coming to if their daring speculations led them -to regard the most serious and important -concerns of life as a pastime? The -Commissioners for the Burgh of Strathgoven were -but a parcel of children, then, playing on the -sea-shore, and unaware of the awful deeps -beyond?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am looking at these things only as a -doctor," says Dr. Sutherland, lightly—seeing -that the Laird is too dumbfounded to answer -his question, "and I sometimes think a doctor's -history of civilisation would be an odd thing, -if only you could get at the physiological facts -of the case. I should like to know, for example, -what Napoleon had for supper on the night -before Waterloo. Something indigestible, you -may be sure; if his brain had been clear on the -15th, he would have smashed the Allies, and -altered modern history. I should have greatly -liked, too, to make the acquaintance of the man -who first announced his belief that infants dying -unbaptised were to suffer eternal torture: I -think it must have been his liver. I should like -to have examined him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to have poisoned him," says -Mary Avon, with a flash of anger in the soft eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no; the poor wretch was only the -victim of some ailment," said our Doctor, -charitably. "There must have been something -very much the matter with Calvin, too. I -know I could have cured Schopenhauer of his -pessimism if he had let me put him on a -wholesome regimen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird probably did not know who -Schopenhauer was; but the audacity of the -new school was altogether too much for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I suppose," he said, stammering in his -amazement, "ye would have taken Joan of Arc, -and treated her as a lunatic?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no; not as a confirmed lunatic," he -answered, quite simply. "But the diagnosis of -that case is obvious; I think she could have -been cured. All that Joanna Southcote wanted -was a frank physician."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird rose and went forward to where -Mary Avon was standing at her easel. He -had had enough. The criticism of landscape -painting was more within his compass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very good—very good," says he, as if his -whole attention had been occupied by her -sketching. "The reflections on the water are -just fine. Ye must let me show all your -sketches to Tom Galbraith before ye go back -to the south."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hear you have been talking about the -mysteries of existence," she says, with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, ay, it is easy to talk," he says, sharply—and -not willing to confess that he has been -driven away from the field. "I am afraid there -is an unsettling tendency among the young -men of the present day—a want of respect for -things that have been established by the -common sense of the world. Not that I am -against all innovation. No, no. The world -cannot stand still. I myself, now; do ye know -that I was among the first in Glasgow to hold -that it might be permissible to have an organ -to lead the psalmody of a church?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, indeed," says she, with much respect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is true. No, no; I am not one of the -bigoted. Give me the Essentials, and I do not -care if ye put a stone cross on the top of the -church. I tell ye that honestly; I would not -object even to a cross on the building if all was -sound within."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure you are quite right, sir," says -Mary Avon, gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But no tampering with the Essentials. -And as for the millinery, and incense, and -crucifixes of they poor craytures that have not -the courage to go right over to Rome—who -stop on this side, and play-act at being -Romans—it is seeckening—perfectly seeckening. As -for the Romans themselves, I do not condemn -them. No, no. If they are in error, I doubt -not they believe with a good conscience. And -when I am in a foreign town, and one o' their -processions of priests and boys comes by, I -raise my hat. I do indeed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, naturally," says Mary Avon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," continues Denny-mains, warmly, -"there is none of the bigot about me. There -is a minister of the Episcopalian Church that I -know; and there is no one more welcome in -my house: I ask him to say grace just as I -would a minister of my own Church."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And which is that, sir?" she asked meekly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird stares at her. Is it possible that -she has heard him so elaborately expound -the Semple prosecution, and not be aware to -what denomination he belongs?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Free—the Free Church, of course," -he says, with some surprise. "Have ye not -seen the </span><em class="italics">Report of Proceedings</em><span> in the Semple -case?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I have not," she answers, timidly. -"You have been so kind in explaining it that—that -a printed report was quite unnecessary."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I will get ye one—I will get ye one -directly," says he. "I have several copies in -my portmanteau. And ye will see my name in -front as one of the elders who considered it fit -and proper that a full report should be -published, so as to warn the public against these -inseedious attacks against our faith. Don't -interrupt your work, my lass; but I will get -ye the pamphlet; and whenever you want to -sit down for a time, ye will find it most -interesting reading—most interesting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so the worthy Laird goes below to fetch -that valued report. And scarcely has he -disappeared than a sudden commotion rages -over the deck. Behold! a breeze coming swiftly -over the sea—ruffling the glassy deep as it -approaches! Angus Sutherland jumps to the -tiller. The head-sails fill; and the boat begins -to move. The lee-sheets are hauled taut; and -now the great mainsail is filled too. There is -a rippling and hissing of water; and a new -stir of life and motion throughout the vessel -from stem to stern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seems but the beginning of the day now, -though it is near lunch-time. Mary Avon puts -away her sketch of the dead calm, and sits -down just under the lee of the boom, where -the cool breeze is blowing along. The Laird, -having brought up the pamphlet, is vigorously -pacing the deck for his morning exercise; we -have all awakened from these idle reveries -about the mystery of life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha," he says, coming aft, "this is -fine—this is fine now. Why not give the men a -glass of whiskey all round for whistling up such a -fine breeze? Do ye think they would object?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better give them a couple of bottles of -beer for their dinner," suggests Queen T., who -is no lover of whiskey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But do you think the Laird is to be put off -his story by any such suggestion? We can -see by his face that he has an anecdote to fire -off; is it not apparent that his mention of -whiskey was made with a purpose?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was a real good one," says he—and -the laughter is already twinkling in his eyes, -"about the man that was apologising before -his family for having been drinking whiskey -with some friends. 'Ay,' says he, 'they just -held me and forced it down my throat.' Then -says his son—a little chap about ten—says he, -'I think I could ha' held ye mysel', -feyther'—ho! ho! ho!' says he, 'I think I could ha' -held ye mysel', feyther;'" and the Laird -laughed, and laughed again, till the tears came -into his eyes. We could see that he was still -internally laughing at that good one when we -went below for luncheon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At luncheon, too, the Laird quite made up his -feud with Angus Sutherland, for he had a great -many other good ones to tell about whiskey -and whiskey drinking; and he liked a -sympathetic audience. But this general merriment -was suddenly dashed by an ominous suggestion -coming from our young Doctor. Why, -he asked, should we go on fighting against -these northerly winds? Why not turn and run -before them?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you want to leave us, Angus," said -his hostess reproachfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no," he said, and with some colour in -his face. "I don't want to go, but I fear I -must very soon now. However, I did not -make that suggestion on my own account; if I -were pressed for time, I could get somewhere -where I could catch the </span><em class="italics">Clansman</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Avon looked down, saying nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would not leave the ship like that," -says his hostess. "You would not run away, -surely? Rather than that we will turn at once. -Where are we now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If the breeze lasts, we will get over to -Uist, to Loch na Maddy, this evening, but you -must not think of altering your plans on my -account. I made the suggestion because of -what Captain John was saying."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," says our Admiral of the Fleet, -taking no heed of properly constituted -authority. "Suppose we set out on our return -voyage to-morrow morning, going round the -other side of Skye for a change. But you -know, Angus, it is not fair of you to run -away when you say yourself there is nothing -particular calls you to London."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," says he, "I am not going to London -just yet. I am going to Banff, to see my -father. There is an uncle of mine, too, on a -visit to the manse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you will be coming south again?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why not come another cruise with us -on your way back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not like this hard-headed young -Doctor to appear so embarrassed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is what I should like very much -myself," he stammered, "if—if I were not in -the way of your other arrangements."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall make no other arrangements," -says the other definitely. "Now that is a -promise, mind. No drawing back. Mary will -put it down in writing, and hold you to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Avon had not looked up all this time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You should not press Dr. Sutherland too -much," she says shyly; "perhaps he has other -friends he would like to see before leaving -Scotland."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hypocrite! Did she want to make -Angus Sutherland burst a blood-vessel in -protesting that of all the excursions he had made -in his life this would be to him for ever the -most memorable; and that a repetition or -extension of it was a delight in the future -almost too great to think of? However, she -seemed pleased that he spoke so warmly, and -she did not attempt to contradict him. If he -had really enjoyed all this rambling idleness, it -would no doubt the better fit him for his work -in the great capital.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We beat in to Loch na Maddy—that is, the -Lake of the Dogs—in the quiet evening; and -the rather commonplace low-lying hills, and the -plain houses of the remote little village, looked -beautiful enough under the glow of the western -skies. And we went ashore, and walked -inland for a space, through an intricate -network of lagoons inbranching from the sea; -and we saw the trout leaping and making -circles on the gold-red pools, and watched the -herons rising from their fishing and winging -their slow flight across the silent lakes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it was a beautiful night, too, and we -had a little singing on deck. Perhaps there -was an under-current of regret in the knowledge -that now—for this voyage, at least—we -had touched our farthest point. To-morrow we -were to set out again for the south.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ferdinand-and-miranda"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">FERDINAND AND MIRANDA.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The wind was laughing at Angus Sutherland. -All the time we had been sailing north -it had blown from the north; how that we -turned our faces eastward, it wheeled round -to the east, as if it would imprison him for -ever in this floating home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">You would fain get away</em><span>"—this was the -mocking sound that one of us seemed to hear -in those light airs of the morning that blew -along the white canvas—"</span><em class="italics">the world calls; -ambition, fame, the eagerness of rivalry, the spell -that science throws over her disciples, all these -are powerful, and they draw you, and you -would fain get away. But the hand of the -wind is uplifted against you; you may fret as -you will, but you are not round Ru Hunish yet!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And perhaps the imaginative small creature -who heard these strange things in the light -breeze against which we were fighting our way -across the Minch may have been forming her -own plans. Angus Sutherland, she used often -to say, wanted humanising. He was too proud -and scornful in the pride of his knowledge; -the gentle hand of a woman was needed to -lead him into more tractable ways. And then -this Mary Avon, with her dexterous, nimble -woman's wit, and her indomitable courage, and -her life and spirit, and abounding cheerfulness; -would she not be a splendid companion for -him during his long and hard struggle? This -born match-maker had long ago thrown away -any notion about the Laird transferring our -singing-bird to Denny-mains. She had almost -forgotten about the project of bringing Howard -Smith, the Laird's nephew, and half-compelling -him to marry Mary Avon: that was preposterous -on the face of it. But she had grown -accustomed, during those long days of tranquil -idleness, to see our young Doctor and Mary -Avon together, cut off from all the distractions of -the world, a new Paul and Virginia. Why—she -may have asked herself—should not these two -solitary waifs, thus thrown by chance together -on the wide ocean of existence, why should -they not cling to each other and strengthen -each other in the coming days of trial and -storm? The strange, pathetic, phantasmal -farce of life is brief; they cannot seize it and -hold it, and shape it to their own ends; they -know not whence it comes, or whither it goes; -but while the brief, strange thing lasts, they -can grasp each other's hand, and make -sure—amid all the unknown things around them, -the mountains, and the wide seas, and the -stars—of some common, humble, human -sympathy. It is so natural to grasp the hand -of another in the presence of something -vast and unknown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rest of us, at all events, have no time -for such vague dreams and reveries. There -is no idleness on board the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> out -here on the shining deep. Dr. Sutherland -has rigged up for himself a sort of gymnasium -by putting a rope across the shrouds to the -peak halyards; and on this rather elastic -cross-bar he is taking his morning exercise by going -through a series of performances, no doubt -picked up in Germany. Miss Avon is busy -with a sketch of the long headland running -out to Vaternish Point; though, indeed, this -smooth Atlantic roll makes it difficult for her -to keep her feet, and introduces a certain -amount of haphazard into her handiwork. -The Laird has brought on deck a formidable -portfolio of papers, no doubt relating to the -public affairs of Strathgovan; and has put on -his gold spectacles; and has got his pencil in -hand. Master Fred is re-arranging the cabins; -the mistress of the yacht is looking after her -flowers. And then is heard the voice of John -of Skye—"</span><em class="italics">Stand by, boys!</em><span>" and "</span><em class="italics">Bout ship!</em><span>" -and the helm goes down, and the jib and -foresail flutter and tear at the blocks and -sheets, and then the sails gently fill, and the -</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> is away on another tack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I give in," says Mary Avon, at last, -as a heavier lurch than usual threatens to -throw her and her easel together into the -scuppers. "It </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> no use."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you never gave in, Mary," says -our Admiral, whose head has appeared again -at the top of the companion-stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder who could paint like this," says -Miss Avon, indignantly. And indeed she is -trussed up like a fowl, with one arm round -one of the gig davits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Turner was lashed to the mast of a vessel -in order to see a storm," says Queen T.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But not to paint," retorts the other. -"Besides, I am not Turner. Besides, I am tired."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time, of course, Angus Sutherland -has come to her help; and removes her easel -and what not for her; and fetches her a -deck-chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you like to play chess?" says he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," she answers dutifully, "if you -think the pieces will stay on the board."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Draughts will be safer," says he, and -therewith he plunges below, and fetches up -the squared board.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so, on this beautiful summer day, with -the shining seas around them, and a cool breeze -tempering the heat of the sun, Ferdinand and -Miranda set to work. And it was a pretty -sight to see them—her soft dark eyes so full -of an anxious care to acquit herself well; his -robust, hard, fresh-coloured face full of a sort -of good-natured forbearance. But nevertheless -it was a strange game. All Scotchmen are -supposed to play draughts; and one brought -up in a manse is almost of necessity a good -player. But one astonished onlooker began -to perceive that, whereas Mary Avon played -but indifferently, her opponent played with a -blindness that was quite remarkable. She -had a very pretty, small, white hand; was he -looking at that that he did not, on one occasion, -see how he could have taken three pieces and -crowned his man all at one fell swoop? And -then is it considered incumbent on a -draught-player to inform his opponent of what would -be a better move on the part of the latter? -However that may be, true it is that, by dint -of much advice, opportune blindness, and -atrocious bad play, the Doctor managed to -get the game ended in a draw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me," said Mary Avon, "I never -thought I should have had a chance. The -Scotch are such good draught-players."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you play remarkably well," said he—and -there was no blush of shame on his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Draughts and luncheon carry us on to the -afternoon; and still the light breeze holds out; -and we get nearer and nearer to the most -northerly points of Skye. And as the evening -draws on, we can now make out the hilly line -of Ross-shire—a pale rose-colour in the far -east; and nearer at hand is the Skye coast, -with the warm sunlight touching on the ruins -of Duntulme, where Donald Gorm Mor fed -his imprisoned nephew on salt beef, and then -lowered to him an empty cup—mocking him -before he died; and then in the west the -mountains of Harris, a dark purple against -the clear lemon-golden glow. But as night -draws on, behold! the wind dies away altogether; -and we lie becalmed on a lilac-and-silver -sea, with some rocky islands over there -grown into a strange intense green in the -clear twilight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down with the gig, then, John of Skye!—and -hurry in all our rods, and lines, and -the occult entrapping inventions of our -patriarch of Denny-mains. We have no scruple -about leaving the yacht in mid-ocean, in charge -of the steward only. The clear twilight shines -in the sky; there is not a ripple on the sea; -only the long Atlantic swell that we can hear -breaking far away on the rocks. And surely -such calms are infrequent in the Minch; and -surely these lonely rocks can have been visited -but seldom by passing voyagers?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet the great rollers—as we near the -forbidding shores—break with an ominous thunder -on the projecting points and reefs. The Doctor -insists on getting closer and closer—he knows -where the big lithe are likely to be found—and -the men, although they keep a watchful eye -about them, obey. And then—it is Mary Avon -who first calls out—and behold! her rod is -suddenly dragged down—the point is hauled below -the water—agony and alarm are on her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here—take it—take it!" she calls out. -"The rod will be broken."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a bit," the Doctor calls out. "Give -him the butt hard! Never mind the rod! -Haul away!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And indeed by this time everybody was -alternately calling and hauling; and John of -Skye, attending to the rods of the two ladies, -had scarcely time to disengage the big fish, -and smooth the flies again; and the Laird -was declaring that these lithe fight as hard -as a twenty-pound salmon. What did we care -about those needles and points of black rock -that every two or three seconds showed their -teeth through the breaking white surf?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep her close in, boys!" Angus Sutherland -cried. "We shall have a fine pickling -to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then one fish, stronger or bigger than his -fellows, pulls the rod clean out of Mary Avon's -hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I have done it this time," she says.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a bit!" her companion cries. "Up -all lines! Back now, lads—gently!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as the stern of the boat is shoved over -the great glassy billows, behold! a thin dark -line occasionally visible—the end of the lost -rod! Then there is a swoop on the part of -our Doctor; he has both his hands on the -butt; there elapses a minute or two of fighting -between man and fish; and then we can see -below the boat the wan gleam of the captured -animal as it comes to the surface in slow -circles. Hurrah! a seven-pounder! John of -Skye chuckles to himself as he grasps the -big lithe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, ay!" he says, "the young leddy knows -ferry well when to throw away the rod. It -is a gran' good thing to throw away the rod -when there will be a big fish. Ay, ay, it iss -a good fish."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the brutes that fought hardest of all -were the dog-fish—the snakes of the sea; and -there was a sort of holy Archangelic joy on -the face of John of Skye when he seized a -lump of stick to fell these hideous creatures -before flinging them back into the water again. -And yet why should they have been killed on -account of their snake-like eyes and their cruel -mouth? The human race did not rise and -extirpate Frederick Smethurst because he was -ill-favoured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By half-past ten we had secured a good -cargo of fish; and then we set out for the -yacht. The clear twilight was still shining -above the Harris hills; but there was a dusky -shadow along the Outer Hebrides, where the -orange ray of Scalpa light was shining; and -there was dusk in the south, so that the yacht -had become invisible altogether. It was a long -pull back; for the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> had been carried -far by the ebb tide. When we found her, she -looked like a tall grey ghost in the gathering -darkness; and no light had as yet been put -up; but all the same we had a laughing -welcome from Master Fred, who was glad to have -the fresh fish wherewith to supplement our -frugal meals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the next morning—when we got up -and looked around—we were in the same -place! And the glass would not fall; and the -blue skies kept blue; and we had to encounter -still another day of dreamy idleness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The weather is conspiring against you, -Angus," our sovereign lady said, with a smile. -"And you know you cannot run away from the -yacht: it would be so cowardly to take the -steamer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, indeed," said he, "it is the first time -in my life that I have found absolute idleness -enjoyable; and I am not so very anxious it -should end. Somehow, though, I fear we are -too well off. When we get back to the -region of letters and telegrams, don't you -think we shall have to pay for all this selfish -happiness?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why should we go back?" she says -lightly. "Why not make a compact to forsake -the world altogether, and live all our life on -board the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Somehow, his eyes wandered to Mary Avon; -and he said—rather absently—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I, for one, should like it well enough; if it -were only possible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," says the Laird, brusquely, "that -will no do at all. It was never intended that -people should go and live for themselves like -that. Ye have your duties to the nation and to -the laws that protect ye. When I left -Denny-mains I told my brother Commissioners that -what I could do when I was away to further -the business of the Burgh I would do; and I -have entered most minutely into several -matters of great importance. And that is why I -am anxious to get to Portree. I expect -most important letters there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Portree! Our whereabouts on the chart last -night was marked between 45 and 46 fathoms -W.S.W. from some nameless rocks; and here, -as far as we can make out, we are still between -these mystical numbers. What can we do but -chat, and read, and play draughts, and twirl -round a rope, and ascend to the cross-trees to -look out for a breeze, and watch and listen to -the animal-life around us?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do think," says Mary Avon to her hostess, -"the calling of those divers is the softest and -most musical sound I ever heard; perhaps -because it is associated with so many beautiful -places. Just fancy, now, if you were suddenly -to hear a diver symphony beginning in an -opera—if all the falsetto recitative and the -blare of the trumpets were to stop—and if you -were to hear the violins and flutes beginning, -quite low and soft, a diver symphony, would -you not think of the Hebrides, and the </span><em class="italics">White -Dove</em><span>, and the long summer days? In the -winter, you know, in London, I fancy we -should go once or twice to see </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> opera!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never been to an opera," remarks -the Laird, quite impervious to Mary Avon's -tender enthusiasm. "I am told it is a fantastic -exhibeetion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One incident of that day was the appearance -of a new monster of the deep, which approached -quite close to the hull of the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>. -Leaning over the rail we could see him clearly -in the clear water—a beautiful, golden, -submarine insect, with a conical body like that of a -land-spider, and six or eight slender legs, by -the incurving of which he slowly propelled -himself through the water. As we were -perfectly convinced that no one had ever been in -such dead calms in the Minch before, and had -lain for twenty-four hours in the neighbourhood -of 45 and 46, we took it for granted that this -was a new animal. In the temporary absence -of our F.R.S., the Laird was bold enough to -name it the </span><em class="italics">Arachne Mary-Avonensis</em><span>; but did -not seek to capture it. It went on its golden way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we were not to linger for ever in these -northern seas, surrounded by perpetual summer -calms—however beautiful the prospect might -be to a young man fallen away, for the moment, -from his high ambitions. Whatever summons -from the far world might be awaiting us at -Portree was soon to be served upon us. In -the afternoon a slight breeze sprung up that -gently carried us away past Ru Hunish, and -round by Eilean Trodda, and down by Altavaig. -The grey-green basaltic cliffs of the Skye coast -were now in shadow; but the strong sunlight -beat on the grassy ledges above; and there -was a distant roar of water along the rocks. -This other throbbing sound, too: surely that -must be some steamer far away on the other -side of Rona?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sunset deepened. Darker and darker -grew the shadows in the great mountains -above us. We heard the sea along the solitary -shores.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stars came out in the twilight: they -seemed clearest just over the black mountains. -In the silence there was the sound of a -waterfall somewhere—in among those dark cliffs. -Then our side-lights were put up; and we sate -on deck; and Mary Avon, nestling close to her -friend, was persuaded to sing for her</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Yestreen the Queen had four Maries</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>—just as if she had never heard the song -before. The hours went by; Angus Sutherland -was talking in a slow, earnest, desultory -fashion; and surely he must have been -conscious that one heart there at least was eagerly -and silently listening to him. The dawn was -near at hand when finally we consented to go -below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What time of the morning was it that we -heard John of Skye call out "</span><em class="italics">Six or seven -fathoms 'll do?</em><span>" We knew at least that we -had got into harbour; and that the first golden -glow of the daybreak was streaming through -the skylights of the saloon. We had returned -from the wilds to the claims and the cares of -civilisation; if there was any message to us, for -good or for evil, from the distant world we had -left for so long, it was now waiting for us on -shore.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="evil-tidings"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">EVIL TIDINGS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We had indeed returned to the world: the -first thing we saw on entering the saloon in -the morning was a number of letters—actual -letters, that had come through a post-office—lying -on the breakfast-table. We stared at -these strange things. Our good Queen T. was -the first to approach them. She took -them up as if she expected they would bite her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Mary," she says, "there is not one for -you—not one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Angus Sutherland glanced quickly at the -girl. But there was not the least trace of -disappointment on her face. On the contrary, -she said, with a cheerful indifference—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So much the better. They only bother people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But of course they had to be opened and -read—even the bulky parcel from Strathgovan. -The only bit of intelligence that came from that -quarter was to the effect that Tom Galbraith -had been jilted by his lady-love; but as the -rumour, it appeared, was in circulation among -the Glasgow artists, the Laird instantly and -indignantly refused to believe it. Envy is the -meanest of the passions; and we knew that the -Glasgow artists could scarcely sleep in their -bed at night for thinking of the great fame of -Mr. Galbraith of Edinburgh. However, amid -all these letters one of us stumbled upon one -little item that certainly concerned us. It was -a clipping from the advertisement column of a -newspaper. It was inclosed, without word or -comment, by a friend in London who knew -that we were slightly acquainted, perforce, with -Mr. Frederick Smethurst. And it appeared -that that gentleman, having got into difficulties -with his creditors, had taken himself off, in a -surreptitious and evil manner, insomuch that this -newspaper clipping was nothing more nor less -than a hue and cry after the fraudulent bankrupt. -That letter and its startling inclosure -were quickly whipped into the pocket of the -lady to whom they had been sent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By great good luck Mary Avon was the first -to go on deck. She was anxious to see this -new harbour into which we had got. And -then, with considerable dismay on her face, our -sovereign mistress showed us this ugly thing. -She was much excited. It was so shameful of -him to bring this disgrace on Mary Avon! -What would the poor girl say? And this -gentle lady would not for worlds have her told -while she was with us—until at least we got -back to some more definite channel of -information. She was, indeed, greatly distressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we had to order her to dismiss these idle -troubles. We formed ourselves into a -committee on the spot; and this committee -unanimously, if somewhat prematurely, and recklessly, -resolved—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>First, that it was not of the slightest -consequence to us or any human creature where -Mr. Frederick Smethurst was, or what he -might do with himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Secondly, that if Mr. Frederick Smethurst -were to put a string and a stone round his neck -and betake himself to the bottom of the sea, he -would earn our gratitude and in some measure -atone for his previous conduct.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thirdly, that nothing at all about the matter -should be said to Mary Avon: if the man had -escaped, there might probably be an end of the -whole business.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To these resolutions, carried swiftly and -unanimously, Angus Sutherland added a sort -of desultory rider, to the effect that moral or -immoral qualities do sometimes reveal -themselves in the face. He was also of opinion -that spare persons were more easy of detection -in this manner. He gave an instance of a -well-known character in London—a most -promising ruffian who had run through the whole -gamut of discreditable offences. Why was -there no record of this brave career written in -the man's face? Because nature had -obliterated the lines in fat. When a man attains -to the dimensions and appearance of a -scrofulous toad swollen to the size of an ox, moral -and mental traces get rubbed out. Therefore, -contended our F.R.S., all persons who set out -on a career of villany, and don't want to be -found out, should eat fat-producing foods. -Potatoes and sugar he especially mentioned as -being calculated to conceal crime.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, we had to banish Frederick -Smethurst and his evil deeds from our minds; -for the yacht from end to end was in a bustle -of commotion about our going ashore; and as -for us—why, we meant to run riot in all the -wonders and delights of civilisation. Innumerable -fowls, tons of potatoes and cabbage and -lettuce, fresh butter, new loaves, new milk: -there was no end to the visions that rose before -the excited brain of our chief commissariat -officer. And when the Laird, in the act of -stepping, with much dignity, into the gig, -expressed his firm conviction that somewhere -or other we should stumble upon a Glasgow -newspaper not more than a week old, so that -he might show us the reports of the meetings -of the Strathgovan Commissioners, we knew of -no further luxury that the mind could desire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as we were being rowed ashore, we -could not fail to be struck by the extraordinary -abundance of life and business and activity in -the world. Portree, with its wooded crags and -white houses shining in the sun, seemed a large -and populous city. The smooth waters of the -bay were crowded with craft of every -description; and the boats of the yachts were coming -and going with so many people on board of -them that we were quite stared out of -countenance. And then, when we landed, and walked -up the quay, and ascended the hill into the -town, we regarded the signs over the -shop-doors with the same curiosity that regards the -commonest features of a foreign street. There -was a peculiarity about Portree, however, that -is not met with in continental capitals. We -felt that the ground swayed lightly under our -feet. Perhaps these were the last oscillations -of the great volcanic disturbance that shot the -black Coolins into the sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the shops: such displays of beautiful -things, in silk, and wool, and cunning -woodwork; human ingenuity declaring itself in a -thousand ways, and appealing to our purses. -Our purses, to tell the truth, were gaping. A -craving for purchase possessed us. But, after -all, the Laird could not buy servant girls' -scarves as a present for Mary Avon; and Angus -Sutherland did not need a second waterproof -coat; and though we reached the telegraph -office, there would have been a certain monotony -in spending innumerable shillings on -unnecessary telegrams, even though we might be -rejoicing in one of the highest conveniences of -civilisation. The plain truth must be told. Our -purchases were limited to some tobacco and a -box or two of paper collars for the men; to -one or two shilling novels; and a flask of -eau-de-Cologne. We did not half avail ourselves -of all the luxuries spread out so temptingly -before us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think the men will have the water -on board yet?" Mary Avon says, as we walk -back. "I do not at all like being on land. -The sun scorches so, and the air is stifling."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In my opeenion," says the Laird, "the -authorities of Portree are deserving of great -credit for having fixed up the apparatus to let -boats get water on board at the quay. It was -a public-spirited project—it was that. And I -do not suppose that any one grumbles at -having to pay a shilling for the privilege. It is a -legeetimate tax. I am sure it would have been -a long time or we could have got such a thing -at Strathgovan, if there was need for it there; -ye would scarcely believe it, ma'am, what a -spirit of opposition there is among some o' the -Commissioners to any improvement, ye would -not believe it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed," she says, in innocent wonder; she -quite sympathises with this public-spirited -reformer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, it's true. Mind ye, I am a Conservative -myself; I will have nothing to do with -Radicals and their Republics; no, no, but a -wise Conservative knows how to march with -the age. Take my own poseetion: for -example, as soon as I saw that the steam -fire-engine was a necessity, I withdrew my -opposition at once. I am very thankful to you, -ma'am, for having given me an opportunity of -carefully considering the question. I will never -forget our trip round Mull. Dear me! it is -warm the day," added the Laird, as he raised -his broad felt hat, and wiped his face with his -voluminous silk handkerchief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here come two pedestrians—good-looking -young lads of an obviously English type—and -faultlessly equipped from head to heel. They -look neither to the left nor right; on they go -manfully through the dust, the sun scorching -their faces; there must be a trifle of heat -under these knapsacks. Well, we wish them -fine weather and whole heels. It is not the -way some of us would like to pass a holiday. -For what is this that Miss Avon is singing -lightly to herself as she walks carelessly on, -occasionally pausing to look in at a shop—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And often have we seamen heard how men are killed or undone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">By overturns of carriages, and thieves, and fires in London.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Here she turns aside to caress a small terrier; -but the animal, mistaking her intention, barks -furiously, and retreats, growling and ferocious, -into the shop. Miss Avon is not disturbed. -She walks on, and completes her nautical -ballad—all for her own benefit—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">We've heard what risk all landsmen run, from noblemen to tailors,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">So, Billy, let's thank Providence that you and I are sailors!</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"What on earth is that, Mary?" her friend -behind asks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl stops with a surprised look, as if -she had scarcely been listening to herself; then -she says lightly:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't you know the sailor's song—I -forget what they call it:—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A strong sou-wester's blowing, Billy, can't you hear it roar now,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Lord help 'em, how I pities all unhappy folks on shore now.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"You have become a thorough sailor, Miss -Avon," says Angus Sutherland, who has -overheard the last quotation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I like it better—I am more interested," -she says, timidly, "since you were so kind as -to show me the working of the ship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed," says he, "I wish you would take -command of her, and order her present captain -below. Don't you see how tired his eyes are -becoming? He won't take his turn of sleep -like the others; he has been scarcely off the -deck night or day since we left Canna; and I -find it is no use remonstrating with him. He -is too anxious; and he fancies I am in a hurry -to get back; and these continual calms prevent -his getting on. Now the whole difficulty would -be solved, if you let me go back by the steamer; -then you could lie at Portree here for a night -or two, and let him have some proper rest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do believe, Angus," says his hostess, -laughing in her gentle way, "that you threaten -to leave us just to see how anxious we are to -keep you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My position as ship's doctor," he retorts, -"is compromised. If Captain John falls ill on -my hands whom am I to blame but myself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am quite sure I can get him to go below," -says Mary Avon, with decision—"quite sure of -it. That is, especially," she adds, rather shyly, -"if you will take his place. I know he would -place more dependence on you than on any of -the men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This is a very pretty compliment to pay to -one who is rather proud of his nautical knowledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he says, laughing, "the responsibility -must rest on you. Order him below, -to-night, and see whether he obeys. If we -don't get to a proper anchorage, we will -manage to sail the yacht somehow among -us—you being captain, Miss Avon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I am captain," she says, lightly—though -she turns away her head somewhat, -"I shall forbid your deserting the ship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So long as you are captain, you need not fear -that," he answers. Surely he could say no less.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was still John of Skye who was -skipper when, on getting under way, we nearly -met with a serious accident. Fresh water and -all provisions having been got on board, we -weighed anchor only to find the breeze die -wholly down. Then the dingay was got out to -tow the yacht away from the sheltered harbour; -and our young Doctor, always anxious for -hard work, must needs jump in to join in this -service. But the little boat had been straining -at the cable for scarcely five minutes when a -squall of wind came over from the north-west -and suddenly filled the sails. "Look out there, -boys!" called Captain John, for we were -running full down on the dingay. "Let go the -rope! Let go!" he shouted: but they would -not let go, as the dingay came sweeping by. -In fact, she caught the yacht just below the -quarter, and seemed to disappear altogether. -Mary Avon uttered one brief cry; and then -stood pale—clasping one of the ropes—not -daring to look. And John of Skye uttered -some exclamation in the Gaelic; and jumped -on to the taffrail. But the next thing we saw, -just above the taffrail, was the red and shining -and laughing face of Angus Sutherland, who -was hoisting himself up by means of the mizen -boom; and directly afterwards appeared the -scarlet cap of Hector of Moidart. It was -upon this latter culprit that the full force of -John of Skye's wrath was expended.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you not let go the rope when I -wass call to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is all right, and if I wass put into the -water, I have been in the water before," was -the philosophic reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now it was, as we drew away from -Portree, that Captain Mary Avon endeavoured -to assume supreme command and would have -the deposed skipper go below and sleep. John -of Skye was very obedient, but he said:—"Oh, -ay. I will get plenty of sleep. But that -hill there, that is Ben Inivaig; and there is not -any hill in the West Highlands so bad for -squalls as that hill. By and by I will get -plenty of sleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ben Inivaig let us go past its great, gloomy, -forbidding shoulders and cliffs without visiting -us with anything worse than a few variable -puffs; and we got well down into the Raasay -Narrows. What a picture of still summer -loveliness was around us!—the rippling blue -seas, the green shores, and far over these the -black peaks of the Coolins now taking a purple -tint in the glow of the afternoon. The shallow -Sound of Scalpa we did not venture to attack, -especially as it was now low water; we went -outside Scalpa, by the rocks of Skier Dearg. -And still John of Skye evaded, with a gentle -Highland courtesy, the orders of the captain. -The silver bell of Master Fred summoned us -below for dinner, and still John of Skye was -gently obdurate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, John," says Mary Avon, seriously, to -him, "you want to make me angry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, mem; I not think that," says he, -deprecatingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why won't you go and have some -sleep? Do you want to be ill?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there iss plenty of sleep," says he. -"Maybe we will get to Kyle Akin to-night; -and there will be plenty of sleep for us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I am asking you as a favour to go and -get some sleep </span><em class="italics">now</em><span>. Surely the men can take -charge of the yacht!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, oh, yes!" says John of Skye. -"They can do that ferry well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then he paused—for he was great -friends with this young lady, and did not like -to disoblige her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will be having your dinner now. -After the dinner, if Mr. Sutherland himself -will be on deck, I will go below and turn in -for a time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course Dr. Sutherland will be on deck," -says the new captain, promptly; and she was so -sure of one member of her crew that she added, -"and he will not leave the tiller for a moment -until you come to relieve him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps it was this promise—perhaps it was -the wonderful beauty of the evening—that -made us hurry over dinner. Then we went -on deck again; and our young Doctor, having -got all his bearings and directions clear in his -head, took the tiller, and John of Skye at length -succumbed to the authority of Commander -Avon and disappeared into the forecastle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The splendour of colour around us on that -still evening!—away in the west the sea of -a pale yellow green, with each ripple a flash -of rose-flame, and over there in the south -the great mountains of Skye—the Coolins, -Blaven, and Ben-na-Cailleach—become of a -plum-purple in the clear and cloudless sky. -Angus Sutherland was at the tiller contemplatively -smoking an almost black meerschaum; -the Laird was discoursing to us about the -extraordinary pith and conciseness of the Scotch -phrases in the Northumbrian Psalter; while -ever and anon a certain young lady, linked -arm-in-arm with her friend, would break the -silence with some aimless fragment of ballad -or old-world air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And still we glided onwards in the beautiful -evening; and now ahead of us in the dusk -of the evening, the red star of Kyle Akin -lighthouse steadily gleamed. We might get -to anchor, after all, without awaking John of -Skye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In weather like this," remarked our -sovereign lady, "in the gathering darkness, -John might keep asleep for fifty years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like Rip Van Winkle," said the Laird, -proud of his erudition. "That is a wonderful -story that Washington Irving wrote—a verra -fine story."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Washington Irving!—the story is as old -as the Coolins," says Dr. Sutherland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird stared as if he had been Rip Van -Winkle himself: was he for ever to be -checkmated by the encyclopædic knowledge of -Young England—or Young Scotland rather—and -that knowledge only the gatherings and -sweepings of musty books that anybody with -a parrot-like habit might acquire?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, surely you know that the legend -belongs to that common stock of legends that -go through all literatures?" says our young -Doctor. "I have no doubt the Hindoos have -their Epimenides; and that Peter Klaus turns -up somewhere or other in the Gaelic stories. -However, that is of little importance; it is -of importance that Captain John should get -some sleep. Hector, come here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a brief consultation about the -length of anchor-chain wanted for the little -harbour opposite Kyle Akin; Hector's instructions -were on no account to disturb John of -Skye. But no sooner had they set about -getting the chain on deck than another figure -appeared, black among the rigging; and there -was a well-known voice heard forward. Then -Captain John came aft, and, despite all -remonstrances, would relieve his substitute. Rip -Van Winkle's sleep had lasted about an hour -and a half.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now we steal by the black shores; and -that solitary red star comes nearer and nearer -in the dusk; and at length we can make out -two or three other paler lights close down by -the water. Behold! the yellow ports of a -steam-yacht at anchor; we know, as our own -anchor goes rattling out in the dark, that -we shall have at least one neighbour and -companion through the still watches of the -night.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="temptation"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">TEMPTATION.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But the night, according to John of Skye's -chronology, lasts only until the tide turns or -until a breeze springs up. Long before the -wan glare in the east has arisen to touch the -highest peaks of the Coolins, we hear the -tread of the men on deck getting the yacht -under way. And then there is a shuffling -noise in Angus Sutherland's cabin; and we -guess that he is stealthily dressing in the -dark. Is he anxious to behold the wonders -of daybreak in the beautiful Loch Alsh, or -is he bound to take his share in the sailing -of the ship? Less perturbed spirits sink back -again into sleep, and contentedly let the </span><em class="italics">White -Dove</em><span> go on her own way through the expanding -blue-grey light of the dawn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hours afterwards there is a strident shouting -down the companion-way; everybody is -summoned on deck to watch the yacht shoot the -Narrows of Kyle Rhea. And the Laird is -the first to express his surprise: are these the -dreaded Narrows that have caused Captain -John to start before daybreak so as to shoot -them with the tide? All around is a dream -of summer beauty and quiet. A more perfect -picture of peace and loveliness could not be -imagined than the green crags of the mainland, -and the vast hills of Skye, and this placid -channel between shining in the fair light of -the morning. The only thing we notice is -that on the glassy green of the water—this -reflected, deep, almost opaque green is not -unlike the colour of Niagara below the -Falls—there are smooth circular lines here and -there; and now and again the bows of the -</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> slowly swerve away from her -course as if in obedience to some unseen and -mysterious pressure. There is not a breath -of wind; and it needs all the pulling of the -two men out there in the dingay and all the -watchful steering of Captain John to keep her -head straight. Then a light breeze comes -along the great gully; the red-capped men -are summoned on board; the dingay is left -astern; the danger of being caught in an -eddy and swirled ashore is over and gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the yacht stops as if she had run -against a wall. Then, just as she recovers, -there is an extraordinary hissing and roaring -in the dead silence around us, and close by -the yacht we find a great circle of boiling -and foaming water, forced up from below and -overlapping itself in ever-increasing folds. And -then, on the perfectly glassy sea, another and -another of those boiling and hissing circles -appears, until there is a low rumbling in the -summer air like the breaking of distant waves. -And the yacht—the wind having again died -down—is curiously compelled one way and then -another, insomuch that John of Skye quickly -orders the men out in the dingay again; and -once more the long cable is tugging at her bows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems to me," says Dr. Sutherland to our -skipper, "that we are in the middle of about a -thousand whirlpools."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it iss ferry quate this morning," says -Captain John, with a shrewd smile. "It iss not -often so quate as this. Ay, it iss sometimes -ferry bad here—quite so bad as Corrievreckan; -and when the flood-tide is rinnin, it will be -rinnin like—shist like a race-horse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, by dint of much hard pulling, and -judicious steering, we manage to keep the -</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> pretty well in mid-current; and -only once—and that but for a second or two—get -caught in one of those eddies circling in to -the shore. We pass the white ferry-house; a -slight breeze carries us by the green shores -and woods of Glenelg; we open out the -wider sea between Isle Ornsay and Loch -Hourn; and then a silver tinkle tells us -breakfast is ready.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That long, beautiful, calm summer day: -Ferdinand and Miranda playing draughts on -deck—he having rigged up an umbrella to -shelter her from the hot sun; the Laird busy -with papers referring to the Strathgovan Public -Park; the hostess of these people overhauling -the stores and meditating on something recondite -for dinner. At last the Doctor fairly burst -out a-laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said he, "I have been in many a -yacht; but never yet in one where everybody -on board was anxiously waiting for the glass -to fall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His hostess laughed too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When you come south again," she said, -"we may be able to give you a touch of -something different. I think that, even with all -your love of gales, a few days of the equinoctials -would quite satisfy you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The equinoctials!" he said, with a surprised look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said she boldly. "Why not have a -good holiday while you are about it? And a -yachting trip is nothing without a fight with the -equinoctials. Oh, you have no idea how -splendidly the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> behaves!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to try her," he said, with a -quick delight; but directly afterwards he -ruefully shook his head. "No, no," said he, "such -a tremendous spell of idleness is not for me. -I have not earned the right to it yet. Twenty -years hence I may be able to have three months' -continued yachting in the West Highlands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I were you," retorted this small person, -with a practical air, "I would take it when I -could get it. What do you know about twenty -years hence?—you may be physician to the -Emperor of China. And you have worked -very hard; and you ought to take as long a -holiday as you can get."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure," says Mary Avon very timidly, -"that is very wise advice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the meantime," says he, cheerfully, "I -am not physician to the Emperor of China, but -to the passengers and crew of the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span>. -The passengers don't do me the honour of -consulting me; but I am going to prescribe for -the crew on my own responsibility. All I want -is, that I shall have the assistance of Miss -Avon in making them take the dose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Avon looked up inquiringly with the -soft black eyes of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody has any control over them but -herself—they are like refractory children. -Now," said he, rather more seriously, "this -night-and-day work is telling on the men. -Another week of it and you would see </span><em class="italics">Insomnia</em><span> -written in large letters on their eyes. I want -you, Miss Avon, to get Captain John and the -men to have a complete night's rest to-night—a -sound night's sleep from the time we finish -dinner till daybreak. We can take charge of the yacht."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Avon promptly rose to her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"John!" she called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The big brown-bearded skipper from Skye -came aft—putting his pipe in his -waistcoat-pocket the while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"John," she said, "I want you to do me a -favour now. You and the men have not been -having enough sleep lately. You must all go -below to-night as soon as we come up from -dinner; and you must have a good sleep till -daybreak. The gentlemen will take charge of -the yacht."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was in vain that John of Skye protested -he was not tired. It was in vain that he -assured her that, if a good breeze sprung up, -we might get right back to Castle Osprey by -the next morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you know very well," she said, "this -calm weather means to last for ever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no! I not think that, mem," said John -of Skye, smiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At all events we shall be sailing all night; -and that is what I want you to do, as a favour -to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indeed, our skipper found it was of no use to -refuse. The young lady was peremptory. And -so, having settled that matter, she sate down to -her draught-board again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was the Laird she was playing with -now. And this was a remarkable circumstance -about the game: when Angus Sutherland -played with Denny-mains, the latter was -hopelessly and invariably beaten; and when -Denny-mains in his turn played with Mary Avon, he -was relentlessly and triumphantly the victor; -but when Angus Sutherland played with -Miss Avon, she, somehow or other, generally -managed to secure two out of three games. It -was a puzzling triangular duel: the chief -feature of it was the splendid joy of the Laird -when he had conquered the English young -lady. He rubbed his hands, he chuckled, he -laughed—just as if he had been repeating one -of his own "good ones."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, at luncheon the Laird was much -more serious; for he was showing to us how -remiss the Government was in not taking up -the great solan question. He had a newspaper -cutting which gave in figures—in rows of -figures—the probable number of millions of -herrings destroyed every year by the -solan-geese. The injuries done to the -herring-fisheries of this country, he proved to us, was -enormous. If a solan is known to eat on an -average fifty herrings a day, just think of the -millions on millions of fish that must go to feed -those nests on the Bass Rock! The Laird -waxed quite eloquent about it. The human -race were dearer to him far than any gannet or -family of gannets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What I wonder at is this," said our young -Doctor with a curious grim smile, that we had -learned to know, coming over his face, "that -the solan, with that extraordinary supply of -phosphorus to the brain, should have gone -on remaining only a bird, and a very ordinary -bird, too. Its brain-power should have been -developed; it should be able to speak by this -time. In fact, there ought to be solan -schoolboards and parochial boards on the Bass -Rock; and commissioners appointed to -inquire whether the building of nests might -not be conducted on more scientific principles. -When I was a boy—I am sorry to say—I -used often to catch a solan by floating out -a piece of wood with a dead herring on it: a -wise bird, with its brain full of phosphorus, ought -to have known that it would break its head -when it swooped down on a piece of wood."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird sate in dignified silence. There -was something occult and uncanny about many -of this young man's sayings—they savoured -too much of the dangerous and unsettling -tendencies of these modern days. Besides, he -did not see what good could come of likening -a lot of solan-geese to the Commissioners of -the Burgh of Strathgovan. His remarks on the -herring-fisheries had been practical and -intelligible; they had given no occasion for jibes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were suddenly startled by the rattling -out of the anchor-chain. What could it -mean?—were we caught in an eddy? There was -a scurrying up on deck, only to find that, -having drifted so far south with the tide, and -the tide beginning to turn, John of Skye -proposed to secure what advantage we had gained -by coming to anchor. There was a sort of -shamed laughter over this business. Was the -noble </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> only a river barge, then, that -she was thus dependent on the tides for her -progress? But it was no use either to laugh -or to grumble; two of us proposed to row the -Laird away to certain distant islands that lie -off the shore north of the mouth of Loch -Hourn; and for amusement's sake we took -some towels with us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Look now how this long and shapely gig -cuts the blue water. The Laird is very -dignified in the stern, with the tiller-ropes in -his hand; he keeps a straight course -enough—though he is mostly looking over the side. -And, indeed, this is a perfect wonder-hall over -which we are making our way—the water so -clear that we notice the fish darting here and -there among the great brown blades of the -tangle and the long green sea-grass. Then -there are stretches of yellow sand, with shells -and star-fish shining far below. The sun -burns on our hands; there is a dead -stillness of heat; the measured splash of the -oars startles the sea-birds in there among -the rocks.</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Send the biorlinn on careering,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Cheerily and all together,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long, strong pull together!</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Look out for the shallows, most dignified of -coxswains: what if we were to imbed her -bows in the silver sand?—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Another cheer! Our isle appears—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Our biorlinn bears her on the faster!</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A long strong pull together!</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ho, ro, clansmen!</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Hold hard!" calls Denny-mains; and -behold! we are in among a network of channels -and small islands lying out here in the calm -sea; and the birds are wildly calling and -screaming and swooping about our heads, -indignant at the approach of strangers. What -is our first duty, then, in coming to these -unknown islands and straits?—why, surely, -to name them in the interests of civilisation. -And we do so accordingly. Here—let it be -for ever known—is John Smith Bay. There, -Thorley's Food for Cattle Island. Beyond -that, on the south, Brown and Poison's Straits. -It is quite true that these islands and bays -may have been previously visited; but it was -no doubt a long time ago; and the people -did not stop to bestow names. The latitude -and longitude may be dealt with afterwards; -meanwhile the discoverers unanimously resolve -that the most beautiful of all the islands shall -hereafter, through all time, be known as the -Island of Mary Avon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was on this island that the Laird achieved -his memorable capture of a young sea-bird—a -huge creature of unknown species that -fluttered and scrambled over bush and over -scaur, while Denny-mains, quite forgetting his -dignity and the heat of the sun, clambered -after it over the rocks. And when he got -it in his hands, it lay as one dead. He was -sorry. He regarded the newly-fledged thing -with compassion; and laid it tenderly down -on the grass; and came away down again to -the shore. But he had scarcely turned his -back when the demon bird got on its legs, -and—with a succession of shrill and sarcastic -"yawps"—was off and away over the higher -ledges. No fasting girl had ever shammed -so completely as this scarcely-fledged bird.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We bathed in Brown and Poison's Straits, -to the great distress of certain sea-pyots that -kept screaming over our heads, resenting the -intrusion of the discoverers. But in the midst -of it, we were suddenly called to observe a -strange darkness on the sea, far away in the -north, between Glenelg and Skye. Behold! the -long-looked-for wind—a hurricane swooping -down from the northern hills! Our toilette -on the hot rocks was of brief duration; we -jumped into the gig; away we went through -the glassy water! It was a race between us -and the northerly breeze which should reach -the yacht first; and we could see that John -of Skye had remarked the coming wind, for -the men were hoisting the fore-staysail. The -dark blue on the water spreads; the reflections -of the hills and the clouds gradually disappear; -as we clamber on board the first puffs of the -breeze are touching the great sails. The -anchor has just been got up; the gig is hoisted -to the davits; slack out the main sheet, you -shifty Hector, and let the great boom go out! -Nor is it any mere squall that has come down -from the hills; but a fine, steady, northerly -breeze; and away we go with the white foam -in our wake. Farewell to the great mountains -over the gloomy Loch Hourn; and to the -lighthouse over there at Isle Ornsay; and to -the giant shoulders of Ard-na-Glishnich. Are -not these the dark green woods of Armadale -that we see in the west? And southward, -and still southward we go with the running -seas and the fresh brisk breeze from the -north: who knows where we may not be tonight -before Angus Sutherland's watch begins?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is but one thoughtful face on board. -It is that of Mary Avon. For the moment, at -least, she seems scarcely to rejoice that we have -at last got this grateful wind to bear us away to -the south and to Castle Osprey.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="through-the-dark"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THROUGH THE DARK.</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">Ahead she goes! the land she knows!</em></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>What though we see a sudden squall -come tearing over from the shores of Skye, -whitening the waves as it approaches us? The -</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> is not afraid of any squall. And -there are the green woods of Armadale, dusky -under the western glow; and here the sombre -heights of Dun Bane; and soon we will open -out the great gap of Loch Nevis. We are -running with the running waves; a general -excitement prevails; even the Laird has -dismissed for the moment certain dark suspicions -about Frederick Smethurst that have for the -last day or two been haunting his mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And here is a fine sight!—the great steamer -coming down from the north—and the sunset is -burning on her red funnels—and behold! she -has a line of flags from her stem to her -top-masts and down to her stern again. Who is -on board?—some great laird, or some gay -wedding-party?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now is your chance, Angus," says Queen -T., almost maliciously, as the steamer slowly -gains on us. "If you want to go on at once, I -know the captain would stop for a minute and -pick you up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her for a second in a quick, -hurt way; then he saw that she was only -laughing at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, thank you," he said, blushing like a -schoolboy; "unless you want to get rid of me. -I have been looking forward to sailing the -yacht to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And—and you said," remarked Miss Avon, -rather timidly, "that we should challenge them -again after dinner this evening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was a pretty combination: "we" -referred to Angus Sutherland and herself. Her -elders were disrespectfully described as -"them." So the younger people had not forgotten how -they were beaten by "them" on the previous -evening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Is there a sound of pipes amid the throbbing -of the paddles? What a crowd of people -swarm to the side of the great vessel! And -there is the captain on the paddle-box—out all -handkerchiefs to return the innumerable -salutations—and good-bye, you brave Glencoe!—you -have no need to rob us of any one of our -passengers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Where does the breeze come from on this -still evening?—there is not a cloud in the sky, -and there is a drowsy haze of heat all along the -land. But nevertheless it continues; and, as -the </span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> cleaves her way through the -tumbling sea, we gradually draw on to the -Point of Sleat, and open out the great plain of -the Atlantic, now a golden green, where the -tops of the waves catch the light of the sunset -skies. And there, too, are our old friends -Haleval and Haskeval; but they are so far -away, and set amid such a bewildering light, -that the whole island seems to be of a pale -transparent rose-purple. And a still stranger -thing now attracts the eyes of all on board. -The setting sun, as it nears the horizon-line of -the sea, appears to be assuming a distinctly -oblong shape. It is slowly sinking into a -purple haze, and becomes more and more oblong -as it nears the sea. There is a call for all the -glasses hung up in the companion-way; and -now what is it that we find out there by the aid -of the various binoculars? Why, apparently, -a wall of purple; and there is an oblong hole -in it, with a fire of gold light far away on the -other side. This apparent golden tunnel -through the haze grows redder and more red; -it becomes more and more elongated; then it -burns a deeper crimson until it is almost a line. -The next moment there is a sort of shock to -the eyes; for there is a sudden darkness -all along the horizon-line: the purple-black -Atlantic is barred against that lurid haze low -down in the west.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a merry enough dinner-party: perhaps -it was the consciousness that the </span><em class="italics">White -Dove</em><span> was still bowling along that brightened -up our spirits, and made the Laird of -Denny-mains more particularly loquacious. The -number of good ones that he told us was quite -remarkable—until his laughter might have -been heard through the whole ship. And to -whom now did he devote the narration -of those merry anecdotes—to whom but Miss -Mary Avon, who was his ready chorus on all -occasions, and who entered with a greater zest -than any one into the humours of them. Had -she been studying the Lowland dialect, then, -that she understood and laughed so lightly and -joyously at stories about a thousand years -of age?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, ay," the Laird was saying patronisingly -to her, "I see ye can enter into the peculiar -humour of our Scotch stories; it is not every -English person that can do that. And ye -understand the language fine.... Well," he -added, with an air of modest apology, "perhaps -I do not give the pronunciation as broad as I -might. I have got out of the way of talking -the provincial Scotch since I was a -boy—indeed, ah'm generally taken for an Englishman -maself—but I do my best to give ye the speerit -of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I am sure your imitation of the -provincial Scotch is most excellent—most -excellent—and it adds so much to the humour of the -stories," says this disgraceful young hypocrite.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, ay, oh, ay," says the Laird, greatly -delighted. "I will admit that some o' the -stories would not have so much humour but for -the language. But when ye have both! Did -ye ever hear of the laddie who was called in to -his porridge by his mother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We perceived by the twinkle in the Laird's -eyes that a real good one was coming. He -looked round to see that we were listening, but -it was Mary Avon whom he addressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A grumbling bit laddie—a philosopher, -too," said he. "His mother thought he would -come in the quicker if he knew there was a fly -in the milk. '</span><em class="italics">Johnny</em><span>,' she cried out, '</span><em class="italics">Johnny, -come in to your parritch; there's a flee in the -milk.</em><span>' '</span><em class="italics">It'll no droon,</em><span>' says he. '</span><em class="italics">What!</em><span>' she -says, '</span><em class="italics">grumblin again? Do ye think there's no -enough milk?' 'Plenty for the parritch</em><span>,' says -he—</span><em class="italics">kee! kee! kee!</em><span>—sharp, eh, wasn't eh?—'</span><em class="italics">Plenty -for the parritch</em><span>,' says he—ha! ha! ho! ho! ho!"—and -the Laird slapped his thigh, -and chuckled to himself. "Oh, ay, Miss Mary," -he added, approvingly, "I see you are beginning -to understand the Scotch humour fine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And if our good friend the Laird had been -but twenty years younger—with his battery of -irresistible jokes, and his great and obvious -affection for this stray guest of ours, to say -nothing of his dignity and importance as a -Commissioner of Strathgovan? What chance -would a poor Scotch student have had, with his -test-tubes and his scientific magazines, his -restless, audacious speculations and eager -ambitions? On the one side, wealth, ease, a pleasant -facetiousness, and a comfortable acceptance of -the obvious facts of the universe—including -water-rates and steam fire-engines; on the -other, poverty, unrest, the physical struggle -for existence, the mental struggle with the -mysteries of life: who could doubt what the -choice would be? However, there was no -thought of this rivalry now. The Laird had -abdicated in favour of his nephew, Howard, -about whom he had been speaking a good deal -to Mary Avon of late. And Angus—though -he was always very kind and timidly attentive -to Miss Avon—seemed nevertheless at times -almost a little afraid of her; or perhaps it was -only a vein of shyness that cropped up from -time to time through his hard mental -characteristics. In any case, he was at this moment -neither the shy lover nor the eager student; he -was full of the prospect of having sole command -of the ship during a long night on the Atlantic, -and he hurried us up on deck after dinner -without a word about that return-battle at bezique.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The night had come on apace, though there -was still a ruddy mist about the northern skies, -behind the dusky purple of the Coolin hills. -The stars were out overhead; the air around -us was full of the soft cries of the divers; -occasionally, amid the lapping of the water, we -could hear some whirring by of wings. Then -the red port light and the green starboard light -were brought up from the forecastle, and fixed -in their place; the men went below; Angus -Sutherland took the tiller; the Laird kept -walking backwards and forwards as a sort of -look-out; and the two women were as usual -seated on rugs together in some invisible -corner—crooning snatches of ballads, or making -impertinent remarks about people much wiser -and older than themselves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Angus," says the voice of one of -them—apparently from somewhere about the -companion, "show us that you can sail the -yacht properly, and we will give you complete -command during the equinoctials."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You speak of the equinoctials," said he, -laughing, "as if it was quite settled I should be -here in September."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" said she, promptly. "Mary is -my witness you promised. You wouldn't go -and desert two poor lone women?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I have got that most uncomfortable -thing, a conscience," he answered; "and I -know it would stare at me as if I were mad if I -proposed to spend such a long time in idleness. -It would be outraging all my theories, besides. -You know, for years and years back I have -been limiting myself in every way—living, for -example, on the smallest allowance of food and -drink, and that of the simplest and cheapest—so -that if any need arose, I should have no -luxurious habits to abandon——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what possible need can there be?" said -Mary Avon, warmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you expect to spend your life in a jail?" -said the other woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said he, quite simply. "But I will -give you an instance of what a man who -devotes himself to his profession may have to -do. A friend of mine, who is one of the highest -living authorities on </span><em class="italics">Materia Medica</em><span>, refused -all invitations for three months, and during the -whole of that time lived each day on precisely -the same food and drink, weighed out in exact -quantities, so as to determine the effect of -particular drugs on himself. Well, you know, -you should be ready to do that——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how wrong you are!" says Mary Avon, -with the same impetuosity. "A man who -works as hard as you do should not sacrifice -yourself to a theory. And what is it? It is -quite foolish!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mary!" her friend says.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is," she says, with generous warmth. "It -is like a man who goes through life with a -coffin on his back, so that he may be ready for -death. Don't you think that when death -comes it will be time enough to be getting the coffin?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was a poser.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know quite well," she says, "that when -the real occasion offered, like the one you -describe, you could deny yourself any luxuries -readily enough; why should you do so now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this there was a gentle sound of laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Luxuries—the luxuries of the </span><em class="italics">White -Dove</em><span>!" says her hostess, mindful of tinned -meats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed," says our young Doctor, -though he is laughing too. "There is far too -much luxury—the luxury of idleness—on board -this yacht to be wholesome for one like me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps you object to the effeminacy of the -downy couches and the feather pillows," says -his hostess, who is always grumbling about the -hardness of the beds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it appears that she has made an exceedingly -bad shot. The man at the wheel—one -can just make out his dark figure against the -clear starlit heavens, though occasionally he -gets before the yellow light of the binnacle—proceeds -to assure her that, of all the luxuries -of civilisation, he appreciates most a horse-hair -pillow; and that he attributes his sound sleeping -on board the yacht to the hardness of the -beds. He would rather lay his head on a -brick, he says, for a night's rest than sink it in -the softest feathers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you wonder," he says, "that Jacob -dreamed of angels when he had a stone for his -pillow? I don't. If I wanted to have a -pleasant sleep and fine dreams that is the sort of -pillow I should have."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some phrase of this catches the ear of our -look-out forward; he instantly comes aft.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is a singular piece of testimony," he -says. "There is no doubt of it; I have myself -seen the very place."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were not startled; we knew that the -Laird, under the guidance of a well-known -Free Church minister, had made a run through -Palestine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay," said he, "the further I went away -from my own country the more I saw nothing -but decadence and meesery. The poor -craytures!—living among ruins, and tombs, and -decay, without a trace of public spirit or private -energy. The disregard of sanitary laws was -something terrible to look at—as bad as their -universal beggary. That is what comes of -centralisation, of suppressing local government. -Would ye believe that there are a lot of silly -bodies actually working to get our Burgh of -Strathgovan annexed to Glasgow—swallowed -up in Glasgow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Impossible!" we exclaim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell ye it is true. But no, no! We are -not ripe yet for those Radical measures. We -are constituted under an Act of Parliament. -Before the House of Commons would dare to -annex the free and flourishing Burgh of Strathgovan -to Glasgow, I'm thinking the country far -and near would hear something of it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes; and we think so, too. And we think -it would be better if the hamlets and towns of -Palestine were governed by men of public -spirit like the Commissioners of Strathgovan; -then they would be properly looked after. Is -there a single steam fire-engine in Jericho?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, it is late; and presently the -women say good-night and retire. And the -Laird is persuaded to go below with them also; -for how otherwise could he have his final glass -of toddy in the saloon? There are but two of -us left on deck, in the darkness, under the stars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is a beautiful night, with those white and -quivering points overhead, and the other white -and burning points gleaming on the black -waves that whirl by the yacht. Beyond the -heaving plain of waters there is nothing visible -but the dusky gloom of the Island of Eigg, and -away in the south the golden eye of Ardnamurchan -lighthouse, for which we are steering. -Then the intense silence—broken only when -the wind, changing a little, gybes the sails and -sends the great boom swinging over on to the -lee tackle. It is so still that we are startled by -the sudden noise of the blowing of a whale; -and it sounds quite close to the yacht, though -it is more likely that the animal is miles away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is a wonderful creature—she is indeed," -says the man at the wheel; as if every one -must necessarily be thinking about the same -person.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your young English friend. Every minute -of her life seems to be an enjoyment to her; -she sings just as a bird sings, for her own -amusement, and without thinking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She can think, too; she is not a fool."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Though she does not look very strong," -continues the young Doctor, "she must have -a thoroughly healthy constitution, or how could -she have such a happy disposition? She is -always contented; she is never put out. If -you had only seen her patience and cheerfulness -when she was attending that old woman—many -a time I regretted it—the case was -hopeless—a hired nurse would have done -as well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hiring a nurse might not have satisfied -the young lady's notions of duty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I've seen women in sick-rooms, but -never any one like her," said he, and then he -added, with a sort of emphatic wonder, "I'm -hanged if she did not seem to enjoy that, too! -Then you never saw any one so particular -about following out instructions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is here suggested to our steersman that -he himself may be a little too particular about -following out instructions. For John of Skye's -last counsel was to keep Ardnamurchan light -on our port bow. That was all very well when -we were off the north of Eigg; but is -Dr. Sutherland aware that the south point of -Eigg—Eilean-na-Castle—juts pretty far out; and is -not that black line of land coming uncommonly -close on our starboard bow? With some -reluctance our new skipper consents to alter his -course by a couple of points; and we bear -away down for Ardnamurchan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And of what did he not talk during the long -starlit night—the person who ought to have -been lookout sitting contentedly aft, a mute -listener?—of the strange fears that must have -beset the people who first adventured out to sea; -of the vast expenditure of human life that must -have been thrown away in the discovery of -the most common facts about currents and -tides and rocks; and so forth, and so forth. -But ever and again his talk returned to -Mary Avon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What does the Laird mean by his -suspicions about her uncle?" he asked on one -occasion—just as we had been watching a -blue-white bolt flash down through the serene -heavens and expire in mid-air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Frederick Smethurst has an ugly face."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what does he mean about those relations -between the man with the ugly face and -his niece?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is idle speculation. Frederick -Smethurst was her trustee, and might have done her -some mischief—that is, if he is an out-and-out -scoundrel; but that is all over. Mary is -mistress of her own property now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here the boom came slowly swinging over; -and presently there were all the sheets of the -head-sails to be looked after—tedious work -enough for amateurs in the darkness of the -night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then further silence; and the monotonous -rush and murmur of the unseen sea; and the -dark topmast describing circles among the stars. -We get up one of the glasses to make astronomical -observations, but the heaving of the boat -somewhat interferes with this quest after -knowledge. Whoever wants to have a good idea of -forked lightning has only to take up a binocular -on board a pitching yacht, and try to fix it on -a particular planet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The calm, solemn night passes slowly; the -red and green lights shine on the black -rigging; afar in the south burns the guiding star -of Ardnamurchan. And we have drawn away -from Eigg now, and passed the open sound; -and there, beyond the murmuring sea, is the -doom of the Island of Muick. All the people -below are wrapped in slumber; the cabins are -dark; there is only a solitary candle burning in -the saloon. It is a strange thing to be -responsible for the lives of those sleeping -folk—out here on the lone Atlantic, in the stillness -of the night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Our young Doctor bears his responsibility -lightly. He has—for a wonder—laid aside his -pipe; and he is humming a song that he has -heard Mary Avon singing of late—something -about</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>O think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa',</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For I'll come and see ye in spite o' them a',</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>and he is wishing the breeze would blow a bit -harder—and wondering whether the wind will -die away altogether when we get under the lee -of Ardnamurchan Point.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But long before we have got down to Ardnamurchan, -there is a pale grey light beginning to -tell in the eastern skies; and the stars are -growing fainter; and the black line of the land -is growing clearer above the wrestling seas. Is -it a fancy that the first light airs of the morning -are a trifle cold? And then we suddenly see, -among the dark rigging forward, one or two -black figures; and presently John of Skye -comes aft, rubbing his eyes. He has had a -good sleep at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Go below, then, you stout-sinewed young -Doctor; you have had your desire of sailing the -</span><em class="italics">White Dove</em><span> through the still watches of the -night. And soon you will be asleep, with your -head on the hard pillow of that little state-room -and though the pillow is not as hard as a stone, -still the night and the sea and the stars are -quickening to the brain; and who knows that -you may not perchance after all dream of -angels, or hear some faint singing far away?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">There was Mary Beaton—and Mary Seaton——</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Or is it only a sound of the waves?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>END OF VOL. I.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">LONDON: R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, BREAD STREET HILL.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>WHITE WINGS, VOLUME I (OF 3)</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43828"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43828</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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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