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diff --git a/43829.txt b/43829.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7a1f0fd..0000000 --- a/43829.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5696 +0,0 @@ - WHITE WINGS, VOLUME II - - - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: White Wings, Volume II - A Yachting Romance -Author: William Black -Release Date: September 27, 2013 [EBook #43829] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITE WINGS, VOLUME II (OF 3) -*** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - - WHITE WINGS: - - A Yachting Romance. - - - BY - - *WILLIAM BLACK,* - - AUTHOR OF "THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PHAETON," - "GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY," ETC. - - - - _IN THREE VOLUMES_ - - VOL. II. - - - - London: - MACMILLAN AND CO. - 1880. - - _The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved._ - - - - - LONDON: - R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR. - BREAD STREET HILL. - - - - - *CONTENTS.* - - - CHAPTER I. - -VILLANY ABROAD - - CHAPTER II. - -AN ULTIMATUM - - CHAPTER III. - -THE NEW SUITOR - - CHAPTER IV. - -CHASING A THUNDERSTORM - - CHAPTER V. - -CHASING SEALS - - CHAPTER VI. - -"UNCERTAIN, COY, AND HARD TO PLEASE" - - CHAPTER VII. - -SECRET SCHEMES - - CHAPTER VIII. - -BEFORE BREAKFAST - - CHAPTER IX. - -A PROTECTOR - - CHAPTER X. - -"MARY, MARY!" - - CHAPTER XI. - -AN UNSPOKEN APPEAL - - CHAPTER XII. - -HIS LORDSHIP - - CHAPTER XIII. - -THE LAIRD'S PLANS - - CHAPTER XIV. - -A SUNDAY IN FAR SOLITUDES - - CHAPTER XV. - -HIDDEN SPRINGS - - - - - *WHITE WINGS:* - - *A Yachting Romance.* - - - - *CHAPTER I.* - - *VILLANY ABROAD.* - - -It is near mid-day; two late people are sitting at breakfast; the -skylight overhead has been lifted, and the cool sea-air fills the -saloon. - -"Dead calm again," says Angus Sutherland, for he can see the rose-red -ensign hanging limp from the mizen-mast, a blaze of colour against the -still blue. - -There is no doubt that the _White Dove_ is quite motionless; and that a -perfect silence reigns around her. That is why we can hear so -distinctly--through the open skylight--the gentle footsteps of two -people who are pacing up and down the deck, and the soft voice of one of -them as she speaks to her friend. What is all this wild enthusiasm -about, then? - -"It is the noblest profession in the world!" we can hear so much as she -passes the skylight. "One profession lives by fomenting quarrels; and -another studies the art of killing in every form; but this one lives -only to heal--only to relieve the suffering and help the miserable. That -is the profession I should belong to, if I were a man!" - -Our young Doctor says nothing as the voice recedes; but he is obviously -listening for the return walk along the deck. And here she comes again. - -"The patient drudgery of such a life is quite heroic--whether he is a -man of science, working day and night to find out things for the good of -the world, nobody thanking him or caring about him, or whether he is a -physician in practice with not a minute that can be called his -own--liable to be summoned at any hour----" - -The voice again becomes inaudible. It is remarked to this young man -that Mary Avon seems to have a pretty high opinion of the medical -profession. - -"She herself," he says hastily, with a touch of colour in his face, "has -the patience and fortitude of a dozen doctors." - -Once more the light tread on deck comes near the skylight. - -"If I were the Government," says Mary Avon, warmly, "I should be ashamed -to see so rich a country as England content to take her knowledge -second-hand from the German Universities; while such men as Dr. -Sutherland are harassed and hampered in their proper work by having to -write articles and do ordinary doctor's visiting. I should be ashamed. -If it is a want of money, why don't they pack off a dozen or two of the -young noodles who pass the day whittling quills in the Foreign -Office?----" - -Even when modified by the distance, and by the soft lapping of the water -outside, this seems rather strong language for a young lady. Why should -Miss Avon again insist in such a warm fashion on the necessity of -endowing research? - -But Angus Sutherland's face is burning red. Listeners are said to hear -ill of themselves. - -"However, Dr. Sutherland is not likely to complain," she says, proudly, -as she comes by again. "No; he is too proud of his profession. He does -his work; and leaves the appreciation of it to others. And when -everybody knows that he will one day be among the most famous men in the -country, is it not monstrous that he should be harassed by drudgery in -the meantime? If I were the Government----" - -But Angus Sutherland cannot suffer this to go on. He leaves his -breakfast unfinished, passes along the saloon, and ascends the -companion. - -"Good morning!" he says. - -"Why, are you up already?" his hostess says. "We have been walking as -lightly as we could, for we thought you were both asleep. And Mary has -been heaping maledictions on the head of the Government because it -doesn't subsidise all you microscope-men. The next thing she will want -is a licence for the whole of you to be allowed to vivisect criminals." - -"I heard something of what Miss Avon said," he admitted. - -The girl, looking rather aghast, glanced at the open skylight. - -"We thought you were asleep," she stammered, and with her face somewhat -flushed. - -"At least, I heard you say something about the Government," he said, -kindly. "Well, all I ask from the Government is to give me a trip like -this every summer." - -"What," says his hostess, "with a barometer that won't fall?" - -"I don't mind." - -"And seas like glass?" - -"I don't mind." - -"And the impossibility of getting back to land?" - -"So much the better," he says defiantly. - -"Why," she reminds him, laughing, "you were very anxious about getting -back some days ago. What has made you change your wishes?" - -He hesitates for a moment, and then he says-- - -"I believe a sort of madness of idleness has got possession of me. I -have dallied so long with that tempting invitation of yours to stay and -see the _White Dove_ through the equinoctials that--that I think I -really must give in----" - -"You cannot help yourself," his hostess says, promptly. "You have -already promised. Mary is my witness." - -The witness seems anxious to avoid being brought into this matter; she -turns to the Laird quickly, and asks him some question about Ru-na-Gaul -light over there. - -Ru-na-Gaul light no doubt it is--shining white in the sun at the point -of the great cliffs; and there is the entrance to Tobbermorry; and here -is Mingary Castle--brown ruins amid the brilliant greens of those -sloping shores--and there are the misty hills over Loch Sunart. For the -rest, blue seas around us, glassy and still; and blue skies overhead, -cloudless and pale. The barometer refuses to budge. - -But suddenly there is a brisk excitement. What though the breeze that is -darkening the water there is coming on right ahead?--we shall be moving -any way. And as the first puffs of it catch the sails, Angus Sutherland -places Mary Avon in command; and she is now--by the permission of her -travelling physician--allowed to stand as she guides the course of the -vessel. She has become an experienced pilot: the occasional glance at -the leach of the top-sail is all that is needed; she keeps as accurately -"full and by" as the master of one of the famous cuptakers. - -"Now, Mary," says her hostess, "it all depends on you as to whether -Angus will catch the steamer this evening." - -"Oh, does it?" she says, with apparent innocence. - -"Yes; we shall want very good steering to get within sight of Castle -Osprey before the evening." - -"Very well, then," says this audacious person. - -At the same instant she deliberately puts the helm down. Of course the -yacht directly runs up to the wind, her sails flapping helplessly. -Everybody looks surprised; and John of Skye, thinking that the new -skipper has only been a bit careless, calls out-- - -"Keep her full, mem, if you please." - -"What do you mean, Mary? What are you about?" cries Queen T. - -"I am not going to be responsible for sending Dr. Sutherland away," she -says, in a matter-of-fact manner, "since he says he is in no hurry to -go. If you wish to drive your guest away, I won't be a party to it. I -mean to steer as badly as I can." - -"Then I depose you," says Dr. Sutherland promptly. "I cannot have a -pilot who disobeys orders." - -"Very well," she says, "you may take the tiller yourself"--and she goes -away, and sits down in high dudgeon, by the Laird. - -So once more we get the vessel under way; and the breeze is beginning to -blow somewhat more briskly; and we notice with hopefulness that there is -rougher water further down the Sound. But with this slow process of -beating, how are we to get within sight of Castle Osprey before the -great steamer comes up from the South? - -The Laird is puzzling over the Admiralty Sailing Directions. The young -lady, deeply offended, who sits beside him, pays him great attention, -and talks "at" the rest of the passengers with undisguised contempt. - -"It is all haphazard, the sailing of a yacht," she says to him, though -we can all hear. "Anybody can do it. But they make a jargon about it to -puzzle other people, and pretend it is a science, and all that." - -"Well," says the Laird, who is quite unaware of the fury that fills her -brain, "there are some of the phrases in this book that are verra -extraordinary. In navigating this same Sound of Mull, they say you are -to keep the 'weather shore aboard.' How can ye keep the weather shore -aboard?" - -"Indeed, if we don't get into a port soon," remarks our hostess and -chief commissariat-officer, "it will be the only thing we shall have on -board. How would you like it cooked, Mary?" - -"I won't speak to any of you," says the disgraced skipper, with much -composure. - -"Will you sing to us, then?" - -"Will you behave properly if you are reinstated in command?" asks Angus -Sutherland. - -"Yes, I will," she says, quite humbly; and forthwith she is allowed to -have the tiller again. - -Brisker and brisker grows the breeze; it is veering to the south, too; -the sea is rising, and with it the spirits of everybody on board. The -ordinarily sedate and respectable _White Dove_ is showing herself a -trifle frisky, moreover; an occasional clatter below of hairbrushes or -candlesticks tells us that people accustomed to calms fall into the -habit of leaving their cabins ill-arranged. - -"There will be more wind, sir," says John of Skye, coming aft; and he is -looking at some long and streaky "mare's tails" in the south-western -sky. "And if there wass a gale o' wind, I would let her have it!" - -Why that grim ferocity of look, Captain John? Is the poor old _White -Dove_ responsible for the too fine weather, that you would like to see -her driven, all wet and bedraggled, before a south-westerly gale? If -you must quarrel with something, quarrel with the barometer; you may -admonish it with a belaying-pin if you please. - -Brisker and brisker grows the breeze. Now we hear the first -pistol-shots of the spray come rattling over the bows; and Hector of -Moidart has from time to time to duck his head, or shake the water from -his jersey. The _White Dove_ breasts these rushing waves and a foam of -white water goes hissing away from either side of her. Speine Mor and -Speine Beg we leave behind; in the distance we can descry the ruins of -Aros Castle and the deep indentation of Salen Bay; here we are passing -the thick woods of Funeray. "_Farewell, farewell, to Funeray!_" The -squally look in the south-west increases; the wind veers more and more. -Commander Mary Avon is glad to resign the helm, for it is not easy to -retain hold in these plunging seas. - -"Why, you will catch the steamer after all, Angus!" says his hostess, as -we go tearing by the mouth of Loch Aline. - -"This is a good one for the last!" he calls to her. "Give her some more -sheet, John; the wind is going round to the north!" - -Whence comes the whirling storm in the midst of the calm summer weather? -The blue heavens are as blue as the petal of a crane'sbill: surely such -a sky has nothing to do with a hurricane. But wherever it comes from, -it is welcome enough; and the brave _White Dove_ goes driving through -those heavy seas, sometimes cresting them buoyantly, at other times -meeting them with a dull shock, followed by a swish of water that rushes -along the lee scuppers. And those two women-folk--without ulsters or -other covering: it is a merry game to play jack-in-the-box, and duck -their heads under the shelter of the gig when the spray springs into the -air. But somehow the sea gets the best of it. Laugh as they may, they -must be feeling rather damp about their hair; and as for Mary Avon's -face--that has got a bath of salt-water at least a dozen times. She -cares not. Sun, wind and sea she allows to do their worst with her -complexion. Soon we shall have to call her the Nut-brown Maid. - -Brisker and brisker grows the breeze. Angus Sutherland, with a rope -round the tiller, has his teeth set hard: he is indeed letting the -_White Dove_ have it at last, for he absolutely refuses to have the -topsail down. The main tack, then: might not that be hauled up? No; he -will have none of John of Skye's counsels. The _White Dove_ tears her -way through the water--we raise a cloud of birds from the rocks opposite -Scallasdale--we see the white surf breaking in at Craignure--ahead of us -is Lismore Lighthouse, perched over the whirling and struggling tides, -shining white in the sunlight above the dark and driven sea. - - _Ahead she goes; the land she knows!_ - ---past the shadowy ruins of Duart, and out and through the turbulent -tides off the lighthouse rocks. The golden afternoon is not yet far -advanced; let but this brave breeze continue, and soon they will descry -the _White Dove_ from the far heights of Castle Osprey! - -But there was to be no Castle Osprey for Angus Sutherland that evening, -despite the splendid run the _White Dove_ had made. It was a race, -indeed, between the yacht and the steamer for the quay; and -notwithstanding that Mary Avon was counselling everybody to give it up -as impossible, John of Skye would hold to it in the hope of pleasing Dr. -Sutherland himself. And no sooner was the anchor let go in the bay, -than the gig was down from the davits; the men had jumped in; the -solitary portmanteau was tossed into the stern; and Angus Sutherland was -hurriedly bidding his adieux. The steamer was at this instant slowing -into the quay. - -"I forbid any one to say good-bye to him," says our Admiral-in-chief, -sternly. "_Au revoir--auf Wiedersehen_--anything you like--no -good-bye." - -Last of all he took Mary Avon's hand. - -"You have promised, you know," she said, with her eyes cast down. - -"Yes," said he, regarding her for an instant with a strange -look--earnest perhaps, and yet timid--as if it would ask a question, and -dared not--"I will keep my promise." Then he jumped into the boat. - -That was a hard pull away to the quay; and even in the bay the water was -rough, so that the back-sweep of the oars sometimes caught the waves and -sent the spray flying in the wind. The _Chevalier_ had rung her bells. -We made sure he would be too late. What was the reason of this -good-natured indulgence? We lost sight of the gig in at the -landing-slip. - -Then the great steamer slowly steamed away from the quay: who was that -on the paddle-box waving good-bye to us? - -"Oh, yes, I can see him plainly," calls out Queen T., looking through a -glass; and there is a general waving of handkerchiefs in reply to the -still visible signal. Mary Avon waves her handkerchief, too--in a limp -fashion. We do not look at her eyes. - -And when the gig came back, and we bade good-bye for the time to the -brave old _White Dove_, and set out for Castle Osprey, she was rather -silent. In vain did the Laird tell her some of the very best ones about -Homesh; she seemed anxious to get into the house and to reach the -solitude of her own room. - -But in the meantime there was a notable bundle of letters, newspapers, -and what not, lying on the hall-table. This was the first welcome that -civilisation gave us. And although we defied these claims--and -determined that not an envelope should be opened till after dinner--Mary -Avon, having only one letter awaiting her, was allowed to read that. She -did it mechanically, listlessly--she was not in very good spirits. But -suddenly we heard her utter some slight exclamation; and then we turned -and saw that there was a strange look on her face--of dismay and dread. -She was pale, too, and bewildered--like one stunned. Then without a -word, she handed the letter to her friend. - -"What is the matter, Mary?" - -But she read the letter--and, in her amazement, she repeated the reading -of it, aloud. It was a brief, business-like, and yet friendly letter, -from the manager of a certain bank in London. He said he was sorry to -refer to painful matters; but no doubt Miss Avon had seen in the papers -some mention of the absconding of Mr. Frederick Smethurst, of ----. He -hoped there was nothing wrong; but he thought it right to inform Miss -Avon that, a day or two before this disappearance, Mr. Smethurst had -called at the bank and received, in obedience to her written -instructions, the securities--U.S. Funded Stock--which the bank held in -her name. Mr. Smethurst had explained that these bonds were deliverable -to a certain broker; and that securities of a like value would be -deposited with the bank in a day or two afterwards. Since then nothing -had been heard of him till the Hue and Cry appeared in the newspapers. -Such was the substance of the letter. - -"But it isn't true!" said Mary Avon, almost wildly. "I cannot believe -it. I will not believe it. I saw no announcement in the papers. And I -did give him the letter--he was acting quite rightly. What do they want -me to believe?" - -"Oh, Mary!" cries her friend, "why did you not tell us? Have you parted -with everything?" - -"The money?" says the girl--with her white face, and frightened pathetic -eyes. "Oh, I do not care about the money! It has got nothing to do -with the money. But--but--he--was my mother's only brother." - -The lips tremble for a moment; but she collects herself. Her courage -fights through the stun of this sudden blow. - -"I will not believe it!" she says. "How dare they say such things of -him? How is it we have never seen anything of it in the papers?" - -But the Laird leaves these and other wild questions to be answered at -leisure. In the meantime, his eyes are burning like coals of fire; and -he is twisting his hands together in a vain endeavour to repress his -anger and indignation. - -"Tell them to put a horse to," he says in a voice the abruptness of -which startles every one. "I want to drive to the telegraph-office. -This is a thing for men to deal wi'--not weemen." - - - - - *CHAPTER II.* - - *AN ULTIMATUM.* - - -When our good friend the Laird of Denny-mains came back from the -post-office, he seemed quite beside himself with wrath. And yet his -rage was not of the furious and loquacious sort; it was reticent, and -deep, and dangerous. He kept pacing up and down the gravel-path in -front of the house, while as yet dinner was not ready. Occasionally he -would rub his hands vehemently, as if to get rid of some sort of -electricity; and once or twice we heard him ejaculate to himself, "The -scoondrel! The scoondrel!" It was in vain that our gentle Queen -Titania, always anxious to think the best of everybody, broke in on -these fierce meditations, and asked the Laird to suspend his judgment. -How could he be sure, she asked, that Frederick Smethurst had really run -away with his niece's little property? He had come to her and -represented that he was in serious difficulties; that this temporary -loan of seven thousand pounds or so would save him; that he would repay -her directly certain remittances came to him from abroad. How could he, -the Laird, know that Frederick Smethurst did not mean to keep his -promise? - -But Denny-mains would have none of these possibilities. He saw the -whole story clearly. He had telegraphed for confirmation; but already -he was convinced. As for Frederick Smethurst being a swindler--that did -not concern him, he said. As for the creditors, that was their own -look-out: men in business had to take their chance. But that this -miscreant, this ruffian, this mean hound should have robbed his own -niece of her last farthing--and left her absolutely without resources or -protection of any kind in the world--this it was that made the Laird's -eyes burn with a dark fire. "The scoondrel!--the scoondrel!" he said; -and he rubbed his hands as though he would wrench the fingers off. - -We should have been more surprised at this exhibition of rage on the -part of a person so ordinarily placid as Denny-mains, but that every one -had observed how strong had become his affection for Mary Avon during -our long days on the Atlantic. If she had been twenty times his own -daughter he could not have regarded her with a greater tenderness. He -had become at once her champion and her slave. When there was any -playful quarrel between the young lady and her hostess, he took the side -of Mary Avon with a seriousness that soon disposed of the contest. He -studied her convenience to the smallest particular when she wished to -paint on deck; and so far from hinting that he would like to have Tom -Galbraith revise and improve her work, he now said that he would have -pride in showing her productions to that famous artist. And perhaps it -was not quite so much the actual fact of the stealing of the money as -the manner and circumstance of it that now wholly upset his equilibrium, -and drove him into this passion of rage. "The scoondrel!--the -scoondrel!" he muttered to himself, in these angry pacings to and fro. - -Then he surprised his hostess by suddenly stopping short, and uttering -some brief chuckle of laughter. - -"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said he, "for the leeberty I have taken; but -I was at the telegraph-office in any case; and I thought ye would not -mind my sending for my nephew Howard. Ye were so good as to say----" - -"Oh, we shall be most pleased to see him," said she promptly. "I am -sure he must have heard us talking about the yacht; he will not mind a -little discomfort----" - -"He will have to take what is given him, and be thankful," said the -Laird, sharply. "In my opeenion the young people of the present day are -too much given to picking and choosing. They will not begin as their -parents began. Only the best of everything is good enough for them." - -But here the Laird checked himself. - -"No, no, ma'am," said he. "My nephew Howard is not like that. He is a -good lad--a sensible lad. And as for his comfort on board that yacht, -I'm thinking it's not that, but the opposite, he has to fear most. Ye -are spoiling us all--the crew included." - -"Now we must go in to dinner," is the practical answer. - -"Has she come down?" asks the Laird, in a whisper. - -"I suppose so." - -In the drawing-room we found Mary Avon. She was rather pale, and -silent--that was all; and she seemed to wish to avoid observation. But -when dinner was announced the Laird went over to her, and took her hand, -and led her into the dining-room, just as he might have led a child. -And he arranged her chair for her; and patted her on the back as he -passed on, and said cheerfully-- - -"Quite right--quite right--don't believe all the stories ye hear. _Nil -desperandum_--we're not beaten down yet!" - -She sate cold and white, with her eyes cast down. He did not know that -in the interval her hostess had been forced to show the girl that -paragraph of the Hue and Cry. - -"_Nil desperandum_--that's it," continued the good-hearted Laird, in his -blithest manner. "Keep your own conscience clear, and let other people -do as they please--that is the philosophy of life. That is what Dr. -Sutherland would say to ye, if he was here." - -This chance reference to Angus Sutherland was surely made with the best -intentions; but it produced a strange effect on the girl. For an instant -or two she tried to maintain her composure--though her lips trembled; -then she gave way, and bent her head, and burst out crying, and covered -her face with her hands. Of course her kind friend and hostess was with -her in a moment, and soothed her, and caressed her, and got her to dry -her eyes. Then the Laird said, after a second or two of inward -struggle-- - -"Oh, do you know that there is a steamer run on the rocks at the mouth -of Loch Etive?" - -"Oh, yes," his hostess--who had resumed her seat--said cheerfully. -"That is a good joke. They say the captain wanted to be very clever; -and would not have a pilot, though he knows nothing about the coast. So -he thought he would keep mid-channel in going into the Loch!". - -The Laird looked puzzled: where was the joke? - -"Oh," said she, noticing his bewilderment, "don't you know that at the -mouth of Loch Etive the rocks are right in the middle, and the channel -on each side? He chose precisely the straight line for bringing his -vessel full tilt on the rocks!" - -So this was the joke, then: that a valuable ship should be sunk? But it -soon became apparent that any topic was of profound interest--was -exceedingly facetious even--that could distract Mary Avon's attention. -They would not let her brood over this thing. They would have found a -joke in a coffin. And indeed amidst all this talking and laughing Mary -Avon brightened up considerably; and took her part bravely; and seemed -to have forgotten all about her uncle and his evil deeds. You could only -have guessed from a certain preoccupation that, from time to time, these -words must have been appearing before her mind, their commonplace and -matter-of-fact phraseology in no way detracting from their horrible -import: "_Police-officers and others are requested to make immediate -search and inquiry for the above named; and those stationed at seaport -towns are particularly requested to search outward-bound vessels._" The -description of Mr. Frederick Smethurst that preceded this injunction was -not very flattering. - -But among all the subjects, grave and gay, on which the Laird touched -during this repast, there was none he was so serious and pertinacious -about as the duty owed by young people to their parents and guardians. -It did not seem an opportune topic. He might, for example, have -enlarged upon the duties of guardians towards their helpless and -unprotected wards. However, on this matter he was most decided. He -even cross-examined his hostess, with an unusual sternness, on the -point. What was the limit--was there any limit--she would impose on the -duty which young folks owed to those who were their parents or who stood -to them in the relation of parents? Our sovereign mistress, a little -bit frightened, said she had always found her boys obedient enough. But -this would not do. Considering the care and affection bestowed on -them--considering the hardly-earned wealth spent on them--considering -the easy fortune offered to them--was it not bounden on young people to -consult and obey the wishes of those who had done so much for them? She -admitted that such was the case. Pressed to say where the limit of such -duty should lie, she said there was hardly any. So far good; and the -Laird was satisfied. - -It was not until two days afterwards that we obtained full information -by letter of what was known regarding the proceedings of Frederick -Smethurst, who, it appears, before he bolted, had laid hands on every -farthing of money he could touch, and borrowed from the credulous among -his friends; so that there remained no reasonable doubt that the story -he had told his niece was among his other deceptions, and that she was -left penniless. No one was surprised. It had been almost a foregone -conclusion. Mary Avon seemed to care little about it; the loss of her -fortune was less to her than the shame and dishonour that this scoundrel -had brought on her mother's name. - -But this further news only served to stir up once more the Laird's -slumbering wrath. He kept looking at his watch. - -"She'll be off Easdale now," said he to himself; and we knew he was -speaking of the steamer that was bringing his nephew from the south. - -By and by--"She'll be near Kerrara, now," he said, aloud. "Is it not -time to drive to the quay?" - -It was not time, but we set out. There was the usual crowd on the quay -when we got there; and far off we could descry the red funnels and the -smoke of the steamer. Mary Avon had not come with us. - -"What a beautiful day your nephew must have had for his sail from the -Crinan," said the Laird's gentle hostess to him. - -Did he not hear her? Or was he absorbed in his own thoughts? His -answer, at all events, was a strange one. - -"It is the first time I have asked anything of him," he said almost -gloomily. "I have a right to expect him to do something for me now." - -The steamer slows in; the ropes are thrown across; the gangways run up; -and the crowd begins to pour out. And here is a tall and handsome young -fellow who comes along with a pleasant smile of greeting on his face. - -"How do you do, Mr. Smith?" says Queen T., very graciously--but she does -not call him "Howard" as she calls Dr. Sutherland "Angus." - -"Well, uncle," says he, brightly, when he has shaken hands all round, -"what is the meaning of it all? Are you starting for Iceland in a -hurry? I have brought a rifle as well as my breechloader. But perhaps -I had better wait to be invited?" - -This young man with the clear, pale complexion, and the dark hair, and -dark grey eyes, had good looks and a pleasant smile in his favour; he -was accustomed to be made welcome; he was at ease with himself. He was -not embarrassed that his uncle did not immediately answer; he merely -turned and called out to the man who had got his luggage. And when we -had got him into the waggonette, and were driving off, what must he -needs talk about but the absconding of Mr. Frederick Smethurst, whom he -knew to be the uncle of a young lady he had once met at our house. - -"Catch him?" said he with a laugh. "They'll never catch him." - -His uncle said nothing at all. - -When we reached Castle Osprey, the Laird said in the hall, when he had -satisfied himself that there was no one within hearing-- - -"Howard, I wish to have a few meenutes' talk with ye; and perhaps our -good friends here will come into the room too----" - -We followed him into the dining-room; and shut the door. - -"--just to see whether there is anything unreasonable in what I have got -to say to ye." - -The young man looked rather alarmed; there was an unusual coldness and -austerity in the elder man's voice. - -"We may as well sit down," he said; "it wants a little explanation." - -We sate down in silence, Howard Smith looking more concerned than ever. -He had a real affection, as we knew, for this pseudo-uncle of his, and -was astounded that he should be spoken to in this formal and cold -manner. - -The Laird put one or two letters on the table before him. - -"I have asked our friends here," said he, in a calm and measured voice, -"to listen to what I have to say, and they will judge whether it is -unreasonable. I have a service to ask of ye. I will say nothing of the -relations between you and me before this time--but I may tell ye -frankly--what doubtless ye have understood--that I had intended to leave -ye Denny-mains at my death. I have neither kith nor kin of my own -blood; and it was my intention that ye should have Denny-mains--perhaps -even before I was called away." - -The young man said nothing; but the manner in which the Laird spoke of -his intentions in the past sense might have made the most disinterested -of heirs look frightened. After ali, he had certainly been brought up -on the understanding that he was to succeed to the property. - -"Now," said he, slowly, "I may say I have shown ye some kindness----" - -"Indeed you have, sir!" said the other warmly. - -"--and I have asked nothing from ye in return. I would ask nothing now, -if I was your age. If I was twenty years younger, I would not have -telegraphed for ye--indeed no, I would have taken the matter into my own -hands----" - -Here the Laird paused for a second or so to regain that coldness of -demeanour with which he had started. - -"Ay, just so. Well, ye were talking about the man Smethurst as we were -coming along. His niece, as ye may be aware, is in this house--a better -lass was never seen within any house." - -The Laird hesitated more and more as he came to the climax of his -discourse: it was obviously difficult for him to put this restraint on -himself. - -"Yes," said he, speaking a little more hurriedly, "and that -scoondrel--that scoondrel--has made off with every penny that the poor -lass had--every penny of it--and she is left an orphan--without a -farthing to maintain herself wi'--and that infernal scoondrel----" - -The Laird jumped from his seat; his anger was too much for him. - -"I mean to stand by her," said he, pacing up and down the room, and -speaking in short ejaculations. "She will not be left without a -farthing. I will reach him too, if I can. Ay, ay, if I was but twenty -years younger, and had that man before me!" - -He stopped short opposite his nephew, and controlled himself so as to -speak quite calmly. - -"I would like to see ye settled at Denny-mains, Howard," said he. "And -ye would want a wife. Now if ye were to marry this young leddy, it -would be the delight of my old age to see ye both comfortable and well -provided for. And a better wife ye would not get within this country. -Not a better!" - -Howard Smith stared. - -"Why, uncle!" said he, as if he thought some joke was going forward. -We, who had been aware of certain profound plans on the part of -Denny-mains, were less startled by this abrupt disclosure of them. - -"That is one of two things," said the Laird, with forced composure, -"that I wished to put before ye. If it is impossible, I am sorely -vexed. But there is another; and one or the other, as I have been -thinking, I am fairly entitled to ask of ye. So far I have not thought -of any return for what I have done; it has been a pleasure to me to look -after your up-bringing." - -"Well, uncle," said the young man, beginning to look a little less -frightened. "I would rather hear of the other thing. You -know--eh--that is--a girl does not take anybody who is flung at her, as -it were--it would be an insult--and--and people's inclinations and -affections----" - -"I know--I know--I know," said the Laird, impatiently. "I have gone -over all that. Do ye think I am a fool? If the lass will not have ye, -there is an end to it: do your best to get her, and that is enough for -me." - -"There was another thing--" the young man suggested timidly. - -"Yes, there is," said the Laird, with a sudden change in his manner. -"It is a duty, sir, ye owe not to me, but to humanity. Ye are young, -strong, have plenty of time, and I will give ye the money. Find out -that man Smethurst; get him face to face; and fell him! Fell him!"--the -Laird brought his fist down on the table with a bang that made -everything jump, and his eyes were like coals of fire. "None o' your -pistols or rapiers or trash like that!--no, no!--a mark on his face for -the rest of his life--the brand of a scoondrel between his eyes--there! -will ye do that for me?" - -"But, uncle," cried the young man, finding this alternative about as -startling as the other, "how on earth can I find him? He is off to -Brazil, or Mexico, or California, long ere now, you may depend on it." - -The Laird had pulled himself together again. - -"I have put two things before ye," said he, calmly. "It is the first -time I have asked ye for a service, after having brought ye up as few -lads have been brought up. If you think it is unfair of me to make a -bargain about such things, I will tell ye frankly that I have more -concern in that young thing left to herself than in any creature now -living on earth; and I will be a friend to her as well as an old man -can. I have asked our friends here to listen to what I had to say; they -will tell ye whether I am unreasonable. I will leave ye to talk it -over." - -He went to the door. Then he turned for a moment to his hostess. - -"I am going to see, ma'am, if Mary will go for a bit walk wi' me--down -to the shore, or the like; but we will be back before the hour for -denner." - - - - - *CHAPTER III.* - - *THE NEW SUITOR.* - - -It is only those who have lived with her for a number of years who can -tell when a certain person becomes possessed with the demon of mischief, -and allows sarcasm and malignant laughter and other unholy delights to -run riot in her brain. The chief symptom is the assumption of an -abnormal gravity, and a look of simple and confiding innocence that -appears in the eyes. The eyes tell most of all. The dark pupils seem -even clearer than is their wont, as if they would let you read them -through and through; and there is a sympathetic appeal in them; the -woman seems so anxious to be kind, and friendly, and considerate. And -all the time--especially if it be a man who is hopelessly -dumfoundered--she is revenging the many wrongs of her sex by covertly -laughing at him and enjoying his discomfiture. - -And no doubt the expression on Howard Smith's face, as he sat there in a -bewildered silence, was ludicrous enough. He was inclined to laugh the -thing away as a joke, but he knew that the Laird was not given to -practical jokes. And yet--and yet-- - -"Do you really think he is serious?" he blurted out at length, and he -spoke to this lady with the gentle innocent eyes. - -"Oh, undoubtedly," she answered, with perfect gravity. - -"Oh, no; it is impossible!" he said, as if arguing with himself. "Why, -my uncle, of all men in the world,--and pretending it was serious--of -course people often do wish their sons or daughters to marry a -particular person--for a sensible reason, to keep estates together, or -to join the fortunes of a family--but this--no, no; this is a joke, or -else he wants to drive me into giving that fellow a licking. And that, -you know, is quite absurd; you might as well drag the Atlantic for a -penknife." - -"I am afraid your uncle is quite serious," said she, demurely. - -"But it was to be left to you," he answered quickly. "You were to say -whether it was unreasonable. Surely you must see it is not reasonable. -Neither the one thing nor the other is possible--" - -Here the young man paused for a moment. - -"Surely," he said, "my uncle can't mean, by putting these impossible -things before me, to justify his leaving his property to somebody else? -There was no need for any such excuse; I have no claim on him; he has a -right to do what he pleases." - -"That has nothing to do with it," said Queen T. promptly. "Your uncle -is quite resolved, I know, that you should have Denny-mains." - -"Yes--and a wife," responded the young man, with a somewhat wry smile. -"Oh, but you know, it is quite absurd; you will reason him out of it, -won't you? He has such a high opinion of your judgment, I know." - -The ingenious youth! - -"Besides," said he warmly, "do you think it very complimentary to your -friend Miss Avon that any one should be asked to come and marry her?" - -This was better; it was an artful thrust. But the bland sympathetic eyes -only paid him a respectful attention. - -"I know my uncle is pretty firm when he has got a notion into his head," -said he, "and--and--no doubt he is quite right in thinking that the -young lady has been badly treated, and that somebody should give the -absconder a thrashing. All that is quite right; but why should I be -made responsible for it? I can't do impossible things." - -"Well, you see," said his sage adviser, with a highly matter-of-fact -air, "your uncle may not regard either the one thing or the other as -impossible." - -"But they are impossible," said he. - -"Then I am very sorry," said she, with great sweetness. "Because -Denny-mains is really a beautiful place. And the house would lend -itself splendidly to a thorough scheme of redecoration; the hall could -be made perfectly lovely. I would have the wooden dado painted a dark -bottle-green, and the wall over it a rich Pompeian red--I don't believe -the colours of a hall can be too bold if the tones are good in -themselves. Pompeian red is a capital background for pictures, too; and -I like to see pictures in the hall; the gentlemen can look at them while -they are waiting for their wives. Don't you think Indian matting makes a -very nice, serviceable, sober-coloured dado for a dining-room--so long -as it does not drive your pictures too high on the wall?" - -The fiendishness of this woman! Denny-mains was being withdrawn from -him at this very moment; and she was bothering him with questions about -its decoration. What did he think of Indian matting? - -"Well," said he, "if I am to lose my chance of Denny-mains through this -piece of absurdity, I can't help it." - -"I beg your pardon," said she most amiably; "but I don't think your -uncle's proposal so very absurd. It is the commonest thing in the world -for people to wish persons in whom they are interested to marry each -other; and very often they succeed by merely getting the young people to -meet, and so forth. You say yourself that it is reasonable in certain -cases. Well, in this case, you probably don't know how great an -interest your uncle takes in Miss Avon, and the affection that he has -for her. It is quite remarkable. And he has been dwelling on this -possibility of a match between you--of seeing you both settled at -Denny-mains--until he almost regards it as already arranged. 'Put -yourself in his place,' as Mr. Reade says. It seems to him the most -natural thing in the world, and I am afraid he will consider you very -ungrateful if you don't fall in with his plan." - -Deeper and deeper grew the shadow of perplexity on the young man's brow. -At first he had seemed inclined to laugh the whole matter aside, but the -gentle reasoning of this small person had a ghastly aspect of -seriousness about it. - -"Then his notion of my seeking out the man Smethurst and giving him a -thrashing: you would justify that, too?" he cried. - -"No, not quite," she answered, with a bit of a smile. "That is a little -absurd, I admit--it is merely an ebullition of anger. He won't think -any more of that in a day or two I am certain. But the other--the -other, I fear, is a fixed idea." - -At this point we heard some one calling outside: - -"Miss Mary! I have been searching for ye everywhere; are ye coming for -a walk down to the shore?" - -Then a voice, apparently overhead at an open window-- - -"All right, sir; I will be down in a moment." - -Another second or two, and we hear some one singing on the stair, with a -fine air of bravado-- - - _A strong sou-wester's blowing, Billy; can't you hear it roar, - now?_ - ---the gay voice passes through the hall-- - - _Lord help 'em, how I pities all un--_ - ---then the last phrase is heard outside-- - - _--folks on shore now--_ - - -Queen Titania darts to the open window of the dining-room. - -"Mary! Mary!" she calls. "Come here." - -The next instant a pretty enough picture is framed by the lower half of -the window, which is open. The background is a blaze of scarlet and -yellow and green--a mixture of sunlight and red poppies and nasturtiums -and glancing fuchsia leaves. Then this slight figure that has appeared -is dark in shadow; but there is a soft reflected light from the front of -the house, and that just shows you the smile on Mary Avon's face and the -friendliness of her dark soft eyes. - -"Oh, how do you do?" she says, reaching in her hand and shaking hands -with him. There is not any timidity in her manner. No one has been -whispering to her of the dark plots surrounding her. - -Nor was Mr. Smith much embarrassed, though he did not show himself as -grateful as a young man might have done for so frank and friendly a -welcome. - -"I scarcely thought you would have remembered me," said he modestly. -But at this moment Denny-mains interfered, and took the young lady by -the arm, and dragged her away. We heard their retreating footsteps on -the gravel walk. - -"So you remember her?" says our hostess, to break the awkward silence. - -"Oh, yes, well enough," said he; and then he goes on to say -stammeringly--"Of course, I--I have nothing to say against her----" - -"If you have," it is here interposed, as a wholesome warning, "you had -better not mention it here. Ten thousand hornets' nests would be a fool -compared to this house if you said anything in it against Mary Avon." - -"On the contrary," says he, "I suppose she is a very nice girl -indeed--very--I suppose there's no doubt of it. And if she has been -robbed like that, I am very sorry for her; and I don't wonder my uncle -should be interested in her, and concerned about her, and--and all -that's quite right. But it is too bad--it is too bad--that one should -be expected to--to ask her to be one's wife, and a sort of penalty -hanging over one's head, too. Why, it is enough to set anybody against -the whole thing; I thought everybody knew that you can't get people to -marry if you drive them to it--except in France, I suppose, where the -whole business is arranged for you by your relatives. This isn't -France; and I am quite sure Miss Avon would consider herself very -unfairly treated if she thought she was being made part and parcel of -any such arrangement. As for me--well, I am very grateful to my uncle -for his long kindness to me; he has been kindness itself to me; and it -is quite true, as he says, that he has asked for nothing in return. -Well, what he asks now is just a trifle too much. I won't sell myself -for any property. If he is really serious--if it is to be a compulsory -marriage like that--Denny-mains can go. I shall be able to earn my own -living somehow." - -There was a chord struck in this brief, hesitating, but emphatic speech -that went straight to his torturer's heart. A look of liking and -approval sprang to her eyes. She would no longer worry him. - -"Don't you think," said she gently, "that you are taking the matter too -seriously? Your uncle does not wish to force you into a marriage -against your will; he knows nothing about Adelphi melodramas. What he -asks is simple and natural enough. He is, as you see, very fond of Mary -Avon; he would like to see her well provided for; he would like to see -you settled and established at Denny-mains. But he does not ask the -impossible. If she does not agree, neither he nor you can help it. -Don't you think it would be a very simple matter for you to remain with -us for a time, pay her some ordinary friendly attention, and then show -your uncle that the arrangement he would like does not recommend itself -to either you or her? He asks no more than that; it is not much of a -sacrifice." - -There was no stammering about this lady's exposition of the case. Her -head is not very big, but its perceptive powers are remarkable. - -Then the young man's face brightened considerably. - -"Well," said he, "that would be more sensible, surely. If you take away -the threat, and the compulsion, and all that, there can be no harm in my -being civil to a girl, especially when she is, I am sure, just the sort -of girl one ought to be civil to. I am sure she has plenty of common -sense---" - -It is here suggested once more that, in this house, negative praise of -Mary Avon is likely to awake slumbering lions. - -"Oh, I have no doubt," says he readily, "that she is a very nice girl -indeed. One would not have to pretend to be civil to some creature -stuffed with affectation, or a ghoul. I don't object to this at all. -If my uncle thinks it enough, very well. And I am quite sure that a -girl you think so much of would have more self-respect than to expect -anybody to go and make love to her in the country-bumpkin style." - -Artful again; but it was a bad shot. There was just a little asperity -in Madame's manner when she said-- - -"I beg you not to forget that Mary does not wish to be made love to by -anybody. She is quite content as she is. Perhaps she has quite other -views, which you would not regret, I am sure. But don't imagine that she -is looking for a husband; or that a husband is necessary for her; or -that she won't find friends to look after her. It is your interests we -are considering, not hers." - -Was the snubbing sufficient? - -"Oh, of course, of course," said he, quite humbly. "But then, you know, -I was only thinking that--that--if I am to go in and make believe about -being civil to your young lady-friend, in order to please my uncle, too -much should not be expected. It isn't a very nice thing--at least, for -you it may be very nice--to look on at a comedy----" - -"And is it so very hard to be civil to a girl?" says his monitress -sharply. "Mary will not shock you with the surprise of her gratitude. -She might have been married ere now if she had chosen." - -"She--isn't--quite a school-girl, you know," he says timidly. - -"I was not aware that men preferred to marry school-girls," says the -other, with a gathering majesty of demeanour. - -Here a humble witness of this interview has once more to interpose to -save this daring young man from a thunderbolt. Will he not understand -that the remotest and most round-about reflection on Mary Avon is in -this house the unpardonable sin? - -"Well," said he frankly, "it is exceedingly kind of you to show me how I -am to get out of this troublesome affair; and I am afraid I must leave -it to you to convince my uncle that I have done sufficient. And it is -very kind of you to ask me to go yachting with you; I hope I shall not -be in the way. And--and--there is no reason at all why Miss Avon and I -should not become very good friends--in fact, I hope we shall become -such good friends that my uncle will see we could not be anything else." - -Could anything be fairer than this? His submission quite conquered his -hostess. She said she would show him some of Mary Avon's sketches in -oil, and led him away for that purpose. His warm admiration confirmed -her good opinion of him; henceforth he had nothing to fear. - -At dinner that evening he was at first a little shy; perhaps he had a -suspicion that there were present one or two spectators of a certain -comedy which he had to play all by himself. But, indeed, our eyes and -ears were not for him alone. Miss Avon was delighting the Laird with -stories of the suggestions she had got about her pictures from the -people who had seen them--even from the people who had bought them--in -London. - -"And you know," said she quite frankly, "I must study popular taste as -much as I fairly can now, for I have to live by it. If people will have -sea-pieces spoiled by having figures put in, I must put in figures. By -and by I may be in a position to do my own work in my own way." - -The Laird glanced at his nephew: was it not for him to emancipate this -great and original artist from the fear of critics, and dealers, and -purchasers? There was no response. - -"I mean to be in London soon myself," the Laird said abruptly; "ye must -tell me where I can see some of your pictures." - -"Oh, no," she said, laughing, "I shall not victimise my friends. I mean -to prey on the public--if possible. It is Mr. White, in King Street, -St. James's, however, who has taken most of my pictures hitherto; and so -if you know of anybody who would like to acquire immortal works for a -few guineas apiece, that is the address." - -"I am going to London myself soon," said he, with a serious air, as if -he had suddenly determined on buying the National Gallery. - -Then Howard Smith, perceiving that no one was watching him, or expecting -impossibilities of him, became quite cheerful and talkative; and told -some excellent stories of his experiences at various shooting quarters -the previous winter. Light-hearted, good-natured, fairly humorous, he -talked very well indeed. We gathered that during the last months of the -year the shooting of pheasants occupied a good deal more of his time and -attention than the study of law. And how could one wonder that so -pleasant-mannered a young man was a welcome guest at those various -country-houses in the south? - -But it appeared that, despite all this careless talk, he had been -keeping an eye on Mary Avon during dinner. Walking down to the yacht -afterwards--the blood-red not quite gone from the western skies, a cool -wind coming up from the sea--he said casually to his uncle-- - -"Well, sir, whatever trouble that young lady may have gone through has -not crushed her spirits yet. She is as merry as a lark." - -"She has more than cheerfulness--she has courage," said the Laird, -almost severely. "Oh, ay, plenty of courage. And I have no doubt she -could fight the world for herself just as well as any man I know. But I -mean to make it my business that she shall not have to fight the world -for herself--not as long as there is a stick standing on Denny-mains!" - - - - - *CHAPTER IV.* - - *CHASING A THUNDERSTORM.* - - -"_All on board then--all on board!_" the summons comes ringing through -the wonderland of dreams. And then, amid the general hurry and scurry -throughout the house, certain half-bewildered people turn first of all -to the windows of their rooms: a welcome sight! The glory of the summer -dawn is shining over the mountains; the _White Dove_, with nearly all -her sail set, is swinging there at her moorings; best of all, a strong -breeze--apparently from the north-east--is ruffling the dark blue seas -and driving a line of white surf on the further shores. The news comes -that Master Fred, by darting about in the dingay since ever daylight -began, has got the very last basket on board; the red caps are even now -bringing the gig in to the landing slip; John of Skye is all impatience -to take advantage of the favourable wind. There is but little time -lost; the happy-go-lucky procession--_dona ferentes_--set out for the -beach. And if the Laird is pleased to find his nephew apparently -falling into his scheme with a good grace; and if the nephew thinks he -is very lucky to get so easily out of an awkward predicament; and if -Mary Avon--unconscious of these secret designs--is full of an eager -delight at the prospect of being allowed to set to work again--may not -all this account for a certain indecorous gaiety that startles the -silence of the summer morning? Or is it that mythical hero Homesh who is -responsible for this laughter? We hear the Laird chuckling; we notice -the facetious wrinkles about his eyes; we make sure it must be Homesh. -Then the final consignment of books, shawls, gun-cases, and what not is -tossed into the gig; and away we go, with the measured dash of the oars. - -And what does the bearded John of Skye think of the new hand we have -brought him? Has he his own suspicions? Is his friend and sworn ally, -Dr. Sutherland, to be betrayed and supplanted in his absence? - -"Good morning, sir," he says obediently, at the gangway; and the quick -Celtic eyes glance at Howard Smith from top to toe. - -"Good morning, captain," the young man says lightly; and he springs too -quickly up the steps, making a little bit of a stumble. This is not an -auspicious omen. - -Then on deck: the handsome figure and pleasant manner of this young man -ought surely to prepossess people in his favour. What if his -tightly-fitting garments and his patent-leather boots and white gaiters -are not an orthodox yachting rig? John of Skye would not judge of a man -by his costume. And if he does not seem quite at home--in this first -look round--every one is not so familiar with boating life as Dr. -Sutherland. It is true, an umbrella used as a walking-stick looks -strange on board a yacht; and he need not have put it on the curved top -of the companion, for it immediately rolls over into the scuppers. Nor -does he seem to see the wickedness of placing a heavy bundle of canvases -on the raised skylight of the ladies' cabin; does he want to start the -glass? Dr. Sutherland, now, would have given the men a hand in hauling -up the gig. Dr. Sutherland would not have been in the way of the -tiller, as the yacht is released from her moorings. - -Unaware of this rapid criticism, and unconcerned by all the bustle going -on around, our new friend is carelessly and cheerfully chatting with his -hostess; admiring the yacht; praising the beauty of the summer morning; -delighted with the prospect of sailing in such weather. He does not -share in the profound curiosity of his uncle about the various duties of -the men. When John of Skye, wishing to leave the tiller for a minute to -overhaul the lee tackle, turns quite naturally to Mary Avon, who is -standing by him, and says with a grin of apology, "If ye please, mem," -the young man betrays but little surprise that this young lady should be -entrusted with the command of the vessel. - -"What!" he says, with a pleasant smile--they seem on very friendly terms -already--"can you steer, Miss Avon? Mind you don't run us against any -rocks." - -Miss Avon has her eye on the mainsail. She answers, with a -business-like air-- - -"Oh, there is no fear of that. What I have to mind, with this wind, is -not to let her gybe, or I should get into disgrace." - -"Then I hope you won't let her gybe, whatever that is," said he, with a -laugh. - -Never was any setting-out more auspicious. We seemed to have bade -farewell to those perpetual calms. Early as it was in the morning, -there was no still, dream-like haze about the mountains; there was a -clear greenish-yellow where the sunlight struck them; the great slopes -were dappled with the shadows of purple-brown; further away the tall -peaks were of a decided blue. And then the windy, fresh, brisk morning; -the _White Dove_ running races with the driven seas; the white foam -flying away from her sides. John of Skye seemed to have no fear of this -gentle skipper. He remained forward, superintending the setting of the -topsail; the _White Dove_ was to "have it" while the fresh breeze -continued to blow. - -And still the squally easterly wind bears her bravely onward, the puffs -darkening the water as they pass us and strike the rushing seas. Is that -a shadow of Colonsay on the far southern horizon? The lighthouse people -here have gone to bed; there is not a single figure along the -yellow-white walls. Look at the clouds of gulls on the rocks, resting -after their morning meal. By this time the deer have retreated into the -high slopes above Craignure; there is a white foam breaking along the -bay of Innismore. And still the _White Dove_ spins along, with -foam-diamonds glittering in the sunlight at her bows; and we hear the -calling of the sea-swallows, and the throbbing of a steamer somewhere in -among the shadows of Loch Aline. Surely now we are out of the reign of -calms; the great boom strains at the sheets; there is a whirl of blue -waters; the _White Dove_ has spread her wings at last. - -"Ay, ay," says John of Skye, who has relieved Miss Avon at the helm; "it -is a great peety." - -"Why, John?" says she, with some surprise; is he vexed that we should be -sailing well on this fine sailing day? - -"It iss a great peety that Mr. Sutherland not here," said John, "and he -wass know so much about a yacht, and day after day not a breeze at ahl. -There iss not many chentlemen will know so much about a yacht as Mr. -Sutherland." - -Miss Avon did not answer, though her face seemed conscious in its -colour. She was deeply engaged in a novel. - -"Oh, that is the Mr. Sutherland who has been with you," said Howard -Smith to his hostess, in a cheerful way. "A doctor, I think you said?" - -At this Miss Avon looked up quickly from her book. - -"I should have thought," said she with a certain dignity of manner, -"that most people had heard of Dr. Angus Sutherland." - -"Oh, yes, no doubt," said he, in the most good-natured fashion. "I know -about him myself--it must be the same man. A nephew of Lord Foyers, -isn't he? I met some friends of his at a house last winter; they had -his book with them--the book about tiger-hunting in Nepaul, don't you -know?--very interesting indeed it was, uncommonly interesting. I read -it right through one night when everybody else was in bed----" - -"Why, that is Captain Sutherland's book," said his hostess, with just a -trace of annoyance. "They are not even related. How can you imagine -that Angus Sutherland would write a book about tiger-hunting?--he is one -of the most distinguished men of science in England." - -"Oh, indeed," says the young man, with the most imperturbable good -humour. "Oh, yes, I am sure I have heard of him--the Geographical -Society, or something like that; really those evenings are most amusing. -The women are awfully bored, and yet they do keep their eyes open -somehow. But about those Indian fellows; it was only last winter that I -heard how the ---- ---- manages to make those enormous bags, all to his -own gun, that you see in the papers. Haven't you noticed them?" - -Well, some of us had been struck with amazement by the reports of the -enormous slaughter committed by a certain Indian prince; and had -wondered at one of the gentle natives of the East taking so thoroughly -and successfully to our robust English sports. - -"Why," said this young man, "he has every covert laid out with netting, -in small squares like a dice-board; and when he has done blazing away in -the air, the under-keepers come up and catch every pheasant, hare, and -rabbit that has run into the netting, and kill them, and put them down -to his bag. Ingenious, isn't it? But I'll tell you what I have seen -myself. I have seen Lord Justice ---- deliberately walk down a line of -netting and shoot every pheasant and rabbit that had got entangled. -'Safer not to let them get away,' says he. And when his host came up he -said, 'Very good shooting; capital. I have got four pheasants and seven -rabbits there; I suppose the beaters will pick them up.'" - -And so the Youth, as we had got to call him, rattled on, relating his -personal experiences, and telling such stories as occurred to him. -There was a good sprinkling of well-known names in this desultory talk; -how could Miss Avon fail to be interested, even if the subject-matter -was chiefly composed of pheasant-shooting, private theatricals, billiard -matches on wet days, and the other amusements of country life? - -The Laird, when he did turn aside from that huge volume of _Municipal -London_--which he had brought with him for purposes of edification--must -have seen and approved. If the young man's attentions to Mary Avon were -of a distinctly friendly sort, if they were characterised by an obvious -frankness, if they were quite as much at the disposal of Mr. Smith's -hostess, what more could be expected? Rome was not built in a day. -Meanwhile Miss Avon seemed very well pleased with her new companion. - -And if it may have occurred to one or other of us that Howard Smith's -talking, however pleasant and good-natured and bright, was on a somewhat -lower level than that of another of our friends, what then? Was it not -better fitted for idle sailing among summer seas? Now, indeed, our good -friend the Laird had no need to fear being startled by the sudden -propounding of conundrums. - -He was startled by something else. Coming up from luncheon, we found -that an extraordinary darkness prevailed in the western heavens--a -strange bronze-purple gloom that seemed to contain within it the promise -of a hundred thunderstorms. And as this fair wind had now brought us -within sight of the open Atlantic, the question was whether we should -make for Skye or run right under this lurid mass of cloud that appeared -to lie all along the western shores of Mull. Unanimously the vote was -for the latter course. Had not Angus Sutherland been anxious all along -to witness a thunderstorm at sea? Might it not be of inestimable value -to Miss Avon? John of Skye, not understanding these reasons, pointed -out that the wind had backed somewhat to the north, and that Mull would -give us surer shelter than Skye for the night. And so we bore away past -Quinish, the brisk breeze sending the _White Dove_ along in capital -style; past the mouth of Loch Cuan; past the wild Cailleach Point; past -the broad Calgary Bay; and past the long headland of Ru-Treshanish. It -was a strange afternoon. The sun was hidden; but in the south and west -there was a wan, clear, silver glow on the sea; and in this white light -the islands of Lunga, and Fladda, and Staffa, and the Dutchman were of -sombre purple. Darker still were the islands lying towards the -land--Gometra, and Ulva, and Inch Kenneth; while the great rampart of -cliff from Loch-na-Keal to Loch Scridain was so wrapped in gloom that -momentarily we watched for the first quivering flash of the lightning. -Then the wind died away. The sea grew calm. On the glassy grey surface -the first drops of the rain fell--striking black, and then widening out -in small circles. We were glad of the cool rain, but the whispering of -it sounded strangely in the silence. - -Then, as we are still watching for the first silver-blue flash of the -lightning, behold! the mighty black wall of the Bourg and Gribun cliffs -slowly, mysteriously disappears; and there is only before us a vague -mist of grey. Colonsay is gone; Inch Kenneth is gone; no longer can we -make out the dark rocks of Erisgeir. And then the whispering of the sea -increases; there is a deeper gloom over head; the rain-king is upon us! -There is a hasty retreat down stairs; the hatches are shoved over; after -dinner we shall see what this strange evening portends. - -"I hope we shall get into the Sound of Ulva before dark," says Miss -Avon. - -"I wish Angus was on board. It is a shame he should be cheated out of -his thunderstorm. But we shall have the equinoctials for him, at all -events," says Queen Titania--just as if she had a series of squalls and -tempests bottled, labelled, and put on a shelf. - -When we get on deck again we find that the evening, but not the _White -Dove_, has advanced. There is no wind; there is no rain; around us -there is the silent, glassy, lilac-grey sea, which, far away in the -west, has one or two gleams of a dull bronze on it, as if some afterglow -were struggling through the clouds at the horizon. Along the Gribun -cliffs, and over the islands, the gloom has surely increased; it were -better if we were in some shelter for this night. - -Then a noise is heard that seems to impose a sudden silence--thunder, -low, distant, and rumbling. But there is no splendid gleam through the -gathering gloom of the night: the Gribun cliffs have not spoken yet. - -John of Skye has carelessly seated himself on one of the deck-stools; -his arm hangs idly on the tiller; we guess, rather than hear, that he is -regaling himself with the sad, monotonous _Farewell to Fuineray_. He -has got on his black oilskins, though there is not a drop of rain. - -By and by, however, it being now quite dark, he jumps to his feet, and -appears to listen intently. - -"Ay, do ye hear it?" he says, with a short laugh. "And it iss off the -land it iss coming!" - -He calls aloud--"Look out boys! it is a squahl coming over, and we'll -hev the topsail down whatever!" - -Then we hear a distant roaring; and presently the headsails are -violently shaken, and the great boom swings over as John puts the helm -up to get way on her. The next instant we are racing in for the land, -as if we mean to challenge the heavy squall that is tearing across from -the unseen Gribun cliffs. And now the rain-clouds break in deluges; the -men in their black oilskins go staggering this way and that along the -slippery decks; the _White Dove_ is wrestling with the sudden storm; -another low murmur of thunder comes booming through the darkness. What -is that solitary light far in there towards the land?--dare any steamer -venture so near the shore on such a night? And we, too; would it not be -safer for us to turn and run out to sea rather than beat against a -squall into the narrow and shallow channels of Ulva's Sound? But John of -Skye is not afraid. The wind and sea cannot drown his strident voice; -the rain deluge cannot blind the trained eyes; the men on the -look-out--when the bow of the boat springs high on a wave, we can see -the black figures against the sombre sky--know the channels too; we are -not afraid to make for Ulva's Sound. - -There is a wild cry from one of the women; she has caught sight, through -the gloom, of white foam dashing on the rocks. - -"It is all right, mem!" John calls aloud, with a laugh; but all the same -the order is shouted, "_Ready about!_"--"_Ready about!_" is the call -coming back to us from the darkness. "_'Bout ship!_" and then away she -sheers from that ugly coast. - -We were after all cheated of our thunderstorm, but it was a wild and a -wet night nevertheless. Taking in the mizen was no joke amid this fury -of wind and rain, but that and the hauling up of the main-tack lessened -the pressure on her. John of Skye was in high spirits. He was proud of -his knowledge of the dangerous coast; where less familiar eyes saw only -vague black masses looming out of the darkness he recognised every rock -and headland. - -"No, no, mem," he was calling out in friendly tones; "we not hef to run -out to sea at ahl. We will get into the Sound of Ulva ferry well; and -there will not be any better anchorage as the Sound of Ulva, when you -are acquaint. But a stranger--I not ask a stranger to go into the Sound -of Ulva on so dark a night." - -What is this we hear?--"_Down foresail, boys!_" and there is a rattle on -to the decks. The head of the yacht seems to sway round; there is a loud -flapping of sails. "_Down chub!_"--and there are black figures -struggling up there at the bowsprit; but vaguely seen against the -blackness of the sky and the sea. Then, in a second or two, there is a -fiercer rattle than ever; the anchor is away with a roar. Some further -chain is paid out; then a strange silence ensues; we are anchored in -Ulva's Sound. - -Come down into the cabin, then, you women-folk, and dry your streaming -faces, and arrange your dishevelled hair. Is not this a wonderful -stillness and silence after the whirl and roar of the storm outside? -But then you must know that the waters are smooth in here; and the winds -become gentle--as gentle as the name of the island that is close to us -now in the dark. It is a green-shored island. The sailors call it -_Ool-a-va_. - - - - - *CHAPTER V.* - - *CHASING SEALS.* - - -Next morning found the Laird in a most excellent humour. All was going -well. Though nothing had been said or promised by the Youth, was not his -coming away with us into these remote solitudes--to say nothing of the -very pleasant manner in which he sought to entertain Miss Mary -Avon--sufficient evidence that he had at least no great repugnance to -his uncle's scheme? The Laird was disposed to chuckle privately over -the anxiety that Mary displayed about her work. The poor young thing: -she did not understand what higher powers were ordering her future for -her. - -"Let her work on," the Laird said, in great confidence, to his hostess, -and there was a fine secret humour in his eyes. "Ay, ay, let her work -on: hard work never harmed anybody. And if she brings her bit mailin to -the marriage--ye would call it her dowry in the south--in the shape of a -bundle of pictures--just as a young Scotch lass brings a chest of -drawers or a set of napery--she will not be empty-handed. She can hang -them up herself at Denny-mains." - -"You are looking too far ahead, sir," says Queen T., with a quiet smile. - -"Maybe--maybe," says the Laird, rubbing his hands with a certain proud -satisfaction. "We'll see who's right--we will see who is right, ma'am." - -Then, at breakfast, he was merry, complaisant, philosophical in turns. -He told us that the last vidimus of the affairs of the Burgh of -Strathgovan was most satisfactory: assets about 35,000*l.*; liabilities -not over 20,000*l.*; there was thus an estimated surplus of no less than -15,000*l*. Why, then, he asked, should certain poor creatures on the -Finance Committee make such a work about the merest trifles? Life was -not given to man that he should worry himself into a rage about a penny -farthing. - -"There is a great dale of right down common sense, ma'am," said he, "in -that verse that was written by my countryman, Welliam Dunbaur-- - - Be merry man, and tak not sair in mind - The wavering of this wretched world of sorrow; - To God be humble, to thy friend be kind, - And with thy neighbours gladly lend and borrow; - His chance to-night, it may be thine to-morrow; - Be blythe in heart for any aventure, - For oft with wise men it has been said aforow, - Without Gladnesse availeth no Treasure." - - -But we, who were in the secret, knew that this quotation had nothing in -the world to do with the Finance Committee of Strathgovan. The Laird had -been comforting himself with these lines. They were a sort of -philosophico-poetical justification of himself to himself for his -readiness to make these two young people happy by giving up to them -Denny-mains. - -And no doubt he was still chuckling over the simplicity of this poor -girl, when, after breakfast, he found her busily engaged in getting her -painting materials on deck. - -"Beautiful--beautiful," said he, glancing around. "Ye will make a fine -picture out of those mountains, and the mist, and the still sea. What -an extraordinary quiet after last night's rain!" - -And perhaps he was thinking how well this picture would look in the -dining-room at Denny-mains; and how a certain young hostess--no longer -pale and fragile, but robust and sun-browned with much driving in a -pony-carriage--would take her friends to the picture, and show them -Ulva, and Loch-na-Keal, and Ben-More; and tell them how this strange -quiet and beauty had followed on a wild night of storm and rain. The -world around us was at this moment so quiet that we could hear the -twittering of some small bird among the rocks in there at the shore. -And the pale, wan, dream-like sea was so perfect a mirror that an -absolutely double picture was produced--of the gloomy mountain-masses of -Ben-More, amid silver gleams of cloud and motionless wreaths of mist; of -the basaltic pillars of the coast nearer at hand--a pale reddish-brown, -with here and there a scant sprinkling of grass; of that broad belt of -rich orange-yellow seaweed that ran all along the rocks, marking the -junction of the world of the land with the water-world below. An -absolutely perfect mirror; except when some fish splashed; then the -small circles widened out and gradually disappeared; and the surface was -as glassy as before. - -The Laird was generous. He would leave the artist undisturbed at her -work. Would not his nephew be better amused if a bachelor expedition -were fitted out to go in search of the seals that abound in the channels -around Inch Kenneth? Our hostess declined to go; but provided us with -an ample lunch. The gig was lowered; and everything ready for the -start. - -"Bring your shot-gun, too, Howard," said the Laird. "I want ye to shoot -some skarts. I am told that the breasts of them are very close and fine -in the feathers; and I would like a muff or a bag made of them for a -leddy--for a young leddy." - -Mary Avon was busy with her work: how could she hear? - -"And if the skin of the seals about here is not very fine, we will make -something of it. Oh, ay, we will make something of it in the way of a -present. I know a man in Glasgow who is extraordinary clever at such -things." - -"We have first to get the seal, uncle," said his nephew, laughing. "I -know any number of men who assure you they have shot seals; but not -quite so many who have got the seals that were shot." - -"Oh, but we'll get the seal, and the skarts, too," said the Laird; and -then he added, grimly, "Man, if ye cannot do that, what can ye do? If -ye cannot shoot well, what else are ye fit for?" - -"I really don't know, uncle," the Youth confessed modestly, as he handed -down his rifle into the gig. "The London solicitors are a blind race. -If they only knew what a treasure of learning and sound judgment they -might have for the asking: but they don't. And I can't get any of the -Scotch business you were talking about; because my name doesn't begin -with Mac." - -"Well, well, we must wait, and hope for the best," said the Laird, -cheerfully, as he took his seat in the stern of the gig. "We are not -likely to run against a solicitor in the Sound of Ulva. Sufficient for -the day. As I was saying, there's great common sense in what Welliam -Dunbaur wrote-- - - Be blythe in heart for any aventure, - For oft with wise men it has been said aforow, - Without Gladnesse availeth no Treasure. - ---Bless me, look at that!" - -This sudden exclamation sent all eyes to the shore. A large heron, -startled by the rattling of the oars, had risen, with a sharp and loud -croak of alarm, from among the sea-weed, his legs hanging down, his long -neck, and wings, and body apparently a grey-white against the shadow of -the basaltic rocks. Then, lazily flapping, he rose higher and higher; he -tucked up his legs; the great wings went somewhat more swiftly; and -then, getting above the low cliffs, and appearing quite black against -the silver-clear sky, he slowly sailed away. - -The silence of this dream-like picture around us was soon broken. As -the men pulled away from the yacht, the lonely shores seemed to waken up -into life; and there were whistlings, and callings, and warnings all -along the cliffs; while the startled sea-birds whirred by in flashes of -colour, or slowly and heavily betook themselves to some further -promontory. And now, as we passed along the narrow Sound, and saw -through the translucent water the wonder-land of seaweed below--with the -patches of clear yellow sand intervening--we appreciated more and more -highly the skill of John of Skye in getting us into such a harbour on -the previous night. It is not every one who, in pitch darkness and in -the midst of squalls, can run a yacht into the neck of a bottle. - -We emerged from the narrow channel, and got out into the open; but even -the broad waters of Loch-na-Keal were pale and still: the reflection of -Eorsa was scarcely marred by a ripple. The long, measured throb of the -rowing was the only sound of life in this world of still water and -overhanging cloud. There was no stroke-oar now to give the chorus - - _A long strong pull together,_ - _Ho, ro, clansman._ - -But still we made good way. As we got further out, we came in sight of -Little Colonsay; and further off still, Staffa, lying like a dark cloud -on the grey sea. Inch Kenneth, for which we were making, seemed almost -black; although, among the mists that lay along the Gribun and Bourg -cliffs, there was a dull silver-yellow light, as though some sunlight -had got mixed up with the clouds. - -"No, no," the Laird was saying, as he studied a scrap of paper, "it is -not a great property to admeenister; but I am strong in favour of local -management. After reading that book on London, and its catalogue of the -enormous properties there, our little bit Burgh appears to be only a -toy; but the principle of sound and energetic self-government is the -same. And yet it is no so small, mind ye. The Burgh buildings are -estimated at nineteen thousand pounds odd; the furniture at twelve -hunderd pounds; lamps near on two thousand five hunderd; sewers nine -thousand pounds odd; and then debts not far from three thousand -pounds--that makes our assets just about thirty-five thousand. And if -the water-pipes in some places are rather too small for the steam -fire-engine, we maun have them bigger. It was quite rideeculous that a -thriving place like Strathgovan, when there was a big fire, should have -to run to Glesca for help. No, no; I believe in independence; and if ye -should ever live in our neighbourhood, Howard, I hope ye will stand out -against the policy of annexation. It is only a lot o' Radical bodies -that are for upsetting institutions that have been tried by time and not -found wanting." - -"Oh, certainly, sir," Howard Smith said blithely. "When you educate -people to take an interest in small parochial matters, they are better -fitted to give an opinion about the general affairs of the country." - -"Small?" said the Laird, eyeing him severely. "They are of as much -importance as human life; is there anything of greater importance in the -world? By abolishin' the Coulterburn nuisance, and insisting on greater -cleanliness and ventilation, we have reduced the number of deaths from -infectious diseases in a most extraordinar' manner; and there will be no -more fear of accidents in the Mitherdrum Road, for we are going to have -a conteenuous line of lamps that'll go right in to the Glesca lamps. I -do not call these small matters. As for the asphalting of the pavement -in front of John Anderson's line of houses," continued the Laird, as he -consulted the memorandum in his hand, "that is a small matter, if ye -like. I am not disposed to pronounce an opinion on that matter: they -can settle it without my voice. But it will make a great difference to -John Anderson; and I would like to see him come forward with a bigger -subscription for the new Park. Well, well; we must fight through as -best we can." - -It was here suggested to the Laird that he should not let these weighty -matters trouble him while he is away on a holiday. - -"Trouble me?" said he, lightly. "Not a bit, man! People who have to -meddle in public affairs must learn how to throw off their cares. I am -not troubled. I am going to give the men a dram; for better pulling I -never saw in a boat!" - -He was as good as his word, too. He had the luncheon-basket handed down -from the bow; he got out the whisky bottle; there was a glass filled out -for each of the men, which was drunk in solemn silence. - -"Now, boys," said he, as they took to their oars again, "haven't ye got -a song or a chorus to make the rowing easy?" - -But they were too shy for a bit. Presently, however, we heard at the -bow a low, plaintive, querulous voice; and the very oars seemed to -recognise the air as they gripped the water. Then there was a hum of a -chorus--not very musical--and it was in the Gaelic--but we knew what the -refrain meant. - - _O boatman, a farewell to you,_ - _O boatman, a farewell to you,_ - _Wherever you may be going._ - -That is something like the English of it: we had heard the _Fhir a -Bhata_ in other days. - -The long, heavy pull is nearly over. Here are the low-lying reefs of -rock outside Inch Kenneth; not a whisper is permissible as we creep into -the nearest bay. And then the men and the boat are left there; and the -Youth--perhaps dimly conscious that his uncle means the seal-skin for -Mary Avon--grasps his rifle and steals away over the undulating shelves -of rock; while his two companions, with more leisure but with not less -circumspection, follow to observe his operations. Fortunately there is -no screaming sea-pyot or whistling curlew to give warning; stealthily, -almost bent in two, occasionally crawling on all fours, he makes his way -along the crannies in the reef, until, as we see, he must be nearly -approaching the channel on his left. There he pauses to take breath. -He creeps behind a rock; and cautiously looks over. He continues his -progress. - -"This is terrible woark," says the Laird, in a stage-whisper, as he, -too--with a much heavier bulk to carry--worms along. From time to time -he has to stay to apply his handkerchief to his forehead; it is hot work -on this still, breathless day. - -And at last we, too, get down to the edge of a channel--some hundred -yards lower than Howard Smith's post--and from behind a rock we have a -pretty clear view of the scene of operations. Apparently there is no -sign of any living thing--except that a big fish leaps into the air, -some dozen yards off. Thereafter a dead silence. - -After waiting about a quarter of an hour or so, the Laird seemed to -become violently excited, though he would neither budge nor speak. And -there, between two islands right opposite young Smith, appeared two -shining black heads on the still water; and they were evidently coming -down this very channel. On they came--turning about one way and -another, as if to look that the coast was clear. Every moment we -expected to hear the crack of the rifle. Then the heads silently -disappeared. - -The Laird was beside himself with disappointment. - -"Why did he no shoot? Why did he no shoot?" he said, in an excited -whisper. - -He had scarcely spoken when he was startled by an apparition. Right -opposite to him--not more than twenty yards off--a black thing appeared -on the water--with a glistening smooth head, and large, soft eyes. Then -another. We dared not move. We waited for the whistle of the -rifle-bullet. The next instant the first seal caught sight of the -Laird; raised its head for an instant at least six inches higher; then -silently plunged along with its companion. They were gone, at all -events. - -The Youth came marching along the rocks, his rifle over his shoulder. - -"Why didn't you fire?" his uncle said, almost angrily. - -"I thought they were coming nearer," said he. "I was just about to fire -when they dived. Mind, it isn't very easy to get on to a thing that is -bobbing about like that, with a rifle. I propose we have luncheon, now, -until the tide ebbs a bit; then there may be a chance of catching one -lying on the rocks. That is the proper time for getting a shot at a -seal." - -We had luncheon: there was no difficulty about securing that. But as -for getting at the seals--whether we crawled over the rocks, or lay in -hiding, or allowed the boat to drift towards some island, on the chance -of one of them rising in our neighbourhood--it was no use at all. There -were plenty of seals about: a snap shot now and again served to break -the monotony of the day; but that present tor Mary Avon seemed as remote -as ever. And when one is determined on shooting a seal, one is not -likely to waste one's attention, and cartridges, on such inferior -animals as skarts. - -The silver-grey day became more golden; there was a touch of warm purple -about the shadows of Staffa. - -"Come," said the Laird at last. "We must go back. It is no use. I -have often heard people say that if you miss the first chance at a seal -it never gives ye another." - -"Better luck next time, uncle," said the Youth; but his uncle refused to -be comforted. And the first thing he said to Mary Avon when he got back -to the yacht was-- - -"We have not got it." - -"Got what?" said she. - -"The seal-skin I wanted to have dressed for ye. No, nor the skarts I -wanted to have made into a muff or a bag for ye." - -"Oh," said she, promptly, "I am very glad. I hope you won't shoot any of -those poor things on my account; I should be very sorry indeed." - -The Laird took this as one of the familiar protestations on the part of -women, who wouldn't for the world have poor things shot, but who don't -object to wearing any amount of furs and feathers, to say nothing of -having innocent sheep sheared and harmless silkworms robbed in order to -deck themselves out. She should have that dressed seal-skin, and that -muff of skarts' breasts, all the same. - -Nothing of stupendous importance happened that evening except -that--after we had caught three dozen of good-sized lithe and returned -to the yacht with this welcome addition to our stores--there was a -general discussion of our plans for the next few days. And our gentle -hostess was obviously looking forward to Angus Sutherland's coming back -to us with great pleasure; and we were to make our return to suit his -convenience; and she would write to him whenever we got near a -post-office again. - -Mary Avon had sate silent during all this. At last, she -said--apparently with some effort and yet very deliberately-- - -"I--I think you are a little cruel to Dr. Sutherland. You are forcing -him to come with you against his better judgment--for you know, with his -prospects, and the calls on his time, he cannot afford such long -idleness. Do you think it is quite fair?" - -The woman stared at this girl, who spoke with some earnestness, though -her eyes were downcast. - -"He would do anything to please you," Mary Avon continued, as if she -were determined to get through with some speech that she had prepared, -"and he is very fond of sailing: but do you think you should allow him -to injure his prospects in this way? Wouldn't it be a greater kindness -to write and say that, if he really feels he ought to return to London, -you would not hold him to his promise? I am sure he would not be -offended: he would understand you at once. And I am sure he would do -what is clearly right: he would go straight back to London, and resume -his work--for his own sake and for the sake of those who count on a -great future for him. I, for one, should be very sorry to see him come -back to idle away his time in sailing." - -And still Queen Tita stared at the girl, though their eyes did not meet. -And she could scarcely believe that it was Mary Avon who had counselled -this cold dismissal. - - - - - *CHAPTER VI.* - - *"UNCERTAIN, COY, AND HARD TO PLEASE."* - - -There are two people walking up and down the deck this beautiful -morning: the lazy ones are still below, dawdling over breakfast. And -now young Smith, though he is not much more than an acquaintance, talks -quite confidentially to his hostess. She has his secret; he looks to -her for aid. And when they do have a quiet moment like this together -there is usually but one person of whom they speak. - -"I must say she has an extraordinary spirit," he observes, with some -decision. "Why, I believe she is rather pleased than otherwise to have -lost that money. She is not a bit afraid of going up to London to -support herself by her work. It seems to amuse her on the whole!" - -"Mary has plenty of courage," says the other quietly. - -"I don't wonder at my uncle being so fond of her: he likes her -independent ways and her good humour. I shouldn't be surprised if he -were to adopt her as his daughter, and cut me out. There would be some -sense in that." - -"I am glad you take it so coolly," says our governor-general, in a -matter-of-fact way that rather startles him. "More unlikely things have -happened." - -But he recovers himself directly. - -"No, no," says he, laughing. "There is one objection. She could not -sit on any of the parochial Boards of Strathgovan. Now I know my uncle -looks forward to putting me on the Police Committee and the Lighting -Committee, and no end of other Committees. By the way, she might go on -the School Board. Do they have women on the School Boards in Scotland?" - -On this point his hostess was no better informed than himself. - -"Well," said he, after a bit, "I wouldn't call her pretty, you know; but -she has a singularly interesting face." - -"Oh, do you think so?" says the other, quite innocently. - -"I do, indeed," answers the ingenuous Youth. "And the more you see of -her the more interesting it becomes. You seem to get so well acquainted -with her somehow; and--and you have a sort of feeling that her presence -is sort of necessary." - -This was somewhat vague; but he made another wild effort to express -himself. - -"What I mean is--that--that suppose she were to leave the yacht, -wouldn't the saloon look quite different? And wouldn't the sailing be -quite different? You would know there was something wanting." - -"I should, indeed," is the emphatic reply. - -"I never knew any one," says the Youth, warming to his work of thorough -explanation, "about whose presence you seem so conscious--even when she -isn't here--I don't mean that exactly--I mean that at this moment now, -you know she is on board the yacht--and it would be quite different if -she were not. I suppose most people wouldn't call her pretty. There is -nothing of the Book of Beauty about her. But I call it a most -interesting face. And she has fine eyes. Anybody must admit that. -They have a beautiful, soft expression; and they can laugh even when she -is quite silent----" - -"My dear Mr. Smith," says his hostess, suddenly stopping short, and with -a kind of serious smile on her face, "let me talk frankly to you. You -acted very sensibly, I think, in coming with us to humour your uncle. -He will come to see that this scheme of his is impracticable; and in the -meantime, if you don't mind the discomfort of it, you have a holiday. -That is all quite well. But pray don't think it necessary that you -should argue yourself into falling in love with Mary. I am not in her -confidence on such a delicate matter; but one has eyes; and I think I -might almost safely say to you that, even if you persuaded yourself that -Mary would make an excellent wife--and be presentable to your friends--I -say even if you succeeded in persuading yourself, I am afraid you would -only have thrown that labour away. Please don't try to convince -yourself that you ought to fall in love with her." - -This was plain speaking. But then our admiral-in-chief was very quickly -sensitive where Mary Avon was concerned; and perhaps she did not quite -like her friend being spoken of as though she were a pill that had to be -swallowed. Of course the Youth instantly disclaimed any intention of -that kind. He had a very sincere regard for the girl, so far as he had -seen her; he was not persuading himself; he was only saying how much she -improved when you got better acquainted with her. - -"And if," said he, with just a touch of dignity, "if Miss Avon -is--is--engaged----" - -"Oh, I did not say that," his hostess quickly interposed. "Oh, -certainly not. It was only a guess on my part----" - -"----or likely to be engaged," he continued, with something of the same -reserve, "I am sure I am very glad for her sake; and whoever marries her -ought to have a cheerful home and a pleasant companion." - -This was a generous sentiment; but there was not much of a -"wish-you-may-be-happy" air about the young man. Moreover, where was -the relief he ought to have experienced on hearing that there was an -obstacle--or likelihood of an obstacle--to the execution of his uncle's -scheme which would absolve him from responsibility altogether? - -However, the subject could not be continued just then; for at this -moment a tightly-brushed small head, and a narrow-brimmed felt hat, and -a shapely neck surrounded by an upstanding collar and bit of ribbon of -navy-blue, appeared at the top of the companion, and Mary Avon, looking -up with her black eyes full of a cheerful friendliness, said-- - -"Weil, John, are you ready to start yet?" - -And the great, brown-bearded John of Skye, looking down at this small -Jack-in-the-box with a smile of welcome on his face, said-- - -"Oh, yes, mem, when the breakfast is over." - -"Do you think it is blowing outside, then?" - -"Oh, no, mem, but there is a good breeze; and maybe there will be a bit -of a rowl from the Atlantic. Will Mr. ---- himself be for going now?" - -"Oh, yes, certainly," she says, with a fine assumption of authority. -"We are quite ready when you are ready, John; Fred will have the things -off the table in a couple of minutes." - -"Very well, mem," says the obedient John of Skye, going forward to get -the men up to the windlass. - -Our young Doctor should have been there to see us getting under way. -The Sound of Ulva is an excellent harbour and anchorage when you are -once in it; but getting out of it, unless with both wind and tide in -your favour, is very like trying to manoeuvre a man-of-war in a tea-cup. -But we had long ago come to the conclusion that John of Skye could sail -the _White Dove_ through a gas-pipe, with half a gale of wind dead in -his teeth; and the manner in which he got us out of this narrow and -tortuous channel fully justified our confidence. - -"Very prettily done, Captain John!" said the Laird--who was beginning to -give himself airs on nautical matters--when we had got out into the -open. - -And here, as we soon discovered, was the brisk fresh breeze that John of -Skye had predicted; and the running swell, too, that came sweeping in to -the mouth of Loch-na-Keal. Black indeed looked that far-reaching loch on -this breezy, changeful morning--as dark as it was when the chief of -Ulva's Isle came down to the shore with his runaway bride; and all along -Ben-More and over the Gribun cliffs hung heavy masses of cloud, dark and -threatening as if with thunder. But far away in the south there was a -more cheerful outlook; the windy sea shimmering in light; some gleams of -blue in the sky; we knew that the sunshine must be shining on the green -clover and the beautiful sands of Iona. The _White Dove_ seemed to -understand what was required of her. Her head was set for the gleaming -south; her white wings outspread; as she sprang to meet those rushing -seas we knew we were escaping from the thunder-darkness that lay over -Loch-na-Keal. - -And Ulva: had we known that we were now leaving Ulva behind us for the -last time, should we not have taken another look back, even though it -now lay under a strange and mysterious gloom? Perhaps not. We had -grown to love the island in other days. And when one shuts one's eyes -in winter, it is not to see an Ulva of desolate rocks and leaden waves; -it is a fair and shining Ulva, with blue seas breaking whitely along its -shores; and magical still channels, with mermaid's halls of seaweed; and -an abundant, interesting life--all manner of sea-birds, black rabbits -running among the rocks, seals swimming in the silent bays. Then the -patch of civilisation under shelter of the hills; the yellow -corn-fields; the dots of human creatures and the red and tawny-grey -cattle visible afar in the meadow; the solitary house; the soft foliage -of trees and bushes; the wild-flowers along the cliffs. That is the -green-shored island: that is the _Ool-a-va_ of the sailors; we know it -only in sunlight and among blue summer seas: it shines for us for ever! - -The people who go yachting are a fickle folk. The scene changes--and -their interests change--every few minutes. Now it is the swooping down -of a solan; again it is the appearance of another island far away; -presently it is a shout of laughter forward, as some unlucky wight gets -drowned in a shower of sea-spray: anything catches their attention for -the moment. And so the _White Dove_ swings along; and the sea gets -heavier and heavier; and we watch the breakers springing high over the -black rocks of Colonsay. It is the Laird who is now instructing our new -guest; pointing out to him, as they come in view, Staffa, the Dutchman, -Fladda, and Lunga, and Cairnaburg. Tiree is invisible at the horizon: -there is too wild a whirl of wind and water. - -The gloom behind us increases; we know not what is about to happen to -our beloved but now distant Ulva--what sudden rumble of thunder is about -to startle the silence of the dark Loch-na-Keal. But ahead of us the -south is still shining clear: blow, winds, that we may gain the quiet -shelter of Polterriv before the evening falls! And is it not full moon -to-night?--to-night our new guest may see the yellow moon shining on the -still waters of Iona Sound. - -But the humiliating truth must be told. The heavy sea has been trying -to one unaccustomed to life on board. Howard Smith, though answering -questions well enough, and even joining voluntarily in conversation -occasionally, wears a preoccupied air. He does not take much interest -in the caves of Bourg. The bright look has gone from his face. - -His gentle hostess--who has herself had moments of gloom on the bosom of -the deep--recognises these signs instantly; and insists on immediate -luncheon. There is a double reason for this haste. We can now run -under the lee of the Erisgeir rocks, where there will be less danger to -Master Fred's plates and tumblers. So we are all bundled down into the -saloon; the swell sensibly subsides as we get to leeward of Erisgeir; -there is a scramble of helping and handing; and another explosion in the -galley tells us that Master Fred has not yet mastered the art of -releasing effervescing fluids. Half a tumblerful of that liquid puts -new life into our solemn friend. The colour returns to his face, and -brightness to his eyes. He admits that he was beginning to long for a -few minutes on firm land--but now--but now--he is even willing to join -us in an excursion that has been talked of to the far Dubhartach -lighthouse. - -"But we must really wait for Angus," our hostess says, "before going out -there. He was always so anxious to go to Dubhartach." - -"But surely you won't ask him to come away from his duties again?" Mary -Avon puts in hastily. "You know he ought to go back to London at once." - -"I know I have written him a letter," says the other demurely. "You can -read it if you like, Mary. It is in pencil, for I was afraid of the -ink-bottle going waltzing over the table." - -Miss Avon would not read the letter. She said we must be past Erisgeir -by this time; and proposed we should go on deck. This we did; and the -Youth was now so comfortable and assured in his mind that, by lying full -length on the deck, close to the weather bulwarks, he managed to light a -cigar. He smoked there in much content, almost safe from the spray. - -Mary Avon was seated at the top of the companion, reading. Her hostess -came and squeezed herself in beside her, and put her arm round her. - -"Mary," said she, "why don't you want Angus Sutherland to come back to -the yacht?" - -"I!" said she, in great surprise--though she did not meet the look of -the elder woman--"I--I--don't you see yourself that he ought to go back -to London? How can he look after that magazine while he is away in the -Highlands? And--and--he has so much to look forward to--so much to -do--that you should not encourage him in making light of his work." - -"Making light of his work!" said the other. "I am almost sure that you -yourself told him that he deserved and required a long--a very -long--holiday." - -"You did, certainly." - -"And didn't you?" - -The young lady looked rather embarrassed. - -"When you saw him," said she, with flushed cheeks, "so greatly enjoying -the sailing--absorbed in it--and--and gaining health and strength, -too--well, of course you naturally wished that he should come back and -go away with you again. But it is different on reflection. You should -not ask him." - -"Why, what evil is likely to happen to him through taking another six -weeks' holiday? Is he likely to fall out of the race of life because of -a sail in the _White Dove_? And doesn't he know his own business? He is -not a child." - -"He would do a great deal to please you." - -"I want him to please himself," said the other; and she added, with a -deadly frown gathering on her forehead, "and I won't have you, Miss -Dignity, interfering with the pleasures of my guests. And there is to -be no snubbing, and no grim looks, and no hints about work, and London, -and other nonsense, when Angus Sutherland comes back to us. You shall -stand by the gangway--do you hear?--and receive him with a smiling face; -and if you are not particularly kind, and civil, and attentive to him, -I'll have you lashed to the yard-arm and painted blue--keel-haul me if I -don't." - -Fairer and fairer grew the scene around us as the brave _White Dove_ -went breasting the heavy Atlantic rollers. Blue and white overhead; the -hot sunlight doing its best to dry the dripping decks; Iona shining -there over the smoother waters of the Sound; the sea breaking white, and -spouting up in columns, as it dashed against the pale red promontories -of the Ross of Mull. But then this stiff breeze had backed to the west; -and there was many a long tack to be got over before we left behind the -Atlantic swell and ran clear into the Sound. The evening was drawing on -apace as we slowly and cautiously steered into the little creek of -Polterriv. No sooner had the anchor rattled out than we heard the clear -tinkling of Master Fred's bell; how on earth had he managed to cook -dinner amid all that diving and rolling and pitching? - -And then, as we had hoped, it was a beautiful evening; and the long gig -was got out, and shawls for the women-folk flung into the stern. The -fishing did not claim our attention. Familiar as some of us were with -the wonderful twilights of the north, which of us had ever seen anything -more solemn, and still, and lovely than these colours of sea and shore? -Half-past nine at night on the 8th of August; and still the west and -north were flushed with a pale rose-red, behind the dark, rich, -olive-green of the shadowed Iona. But what was that to the magic world -that lay before us as we returned to the yacht? Now the moon had -arisen, and it seemed to be of a clear, lambent gold; and the cloudless -heavens and the still sea were of a violet hue--not imaginatively, or -relatively, but positively and literally violet. Then between the -violet-coloured sky and the violet-coloured sea, a long line of rock, -jet black as it appeared to us. That was all the picture: the yellow -moon, the violet sky, the violet sea, the line of black rock. No doubt -it was the intensity of the shadows along this line of rock that gave -that extraordinary luminousness to the still heavens and the still sea. - -When we got back to the yacht a telegram awaited us. It had been sent -to Bunessan, the nearest telegraph-station; but some kind friends there, -recognising the _White Dove_ as she came along by Erisgeir, and shrewdly -concluding that we must pass the night at Polterriv, had been so kind as -to forward it on to Fion-phort by a messenger. - -"I thought so!" says Queen T. with a fine delight in her face as she -reads the telegram. "It is from Angus. He is coming on Thursday. We -must go back to meet him at Ballahulish or Corpach." - -Then the discourtesy of this remark struck her. - -"I beg your pardon, Mr. Smith," said she, instantly. "Of course, I mean -if it is quite agreeable to you. He does not expect us, you see; he -would come on here----" - -"I assure you I would as soon go to Ballahulish as anywhere else," says -the Youth promptly. "It is quite the same to me--it is all new, you -see, and all equally charming." - -Mary Avon alone expressed no delight at this prospect of our going to -Ballahulish to meet Angus Sutherland; she sate silent; her eyes were -thoughtful and distant; it was not of anything around her that she was -thinking. - -The moon had got whiter now; the sea and the sky blue-black in place of -that soft warm violet colour. We sate on deck till a late hour; the -world was asleep around us; not a sound disturbed the absolute stillness -of land and sea. - -And where was the voice of our singing bird? Had the loss of a mere sum -of money made her forget all about Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton, "and -Mary Carmichael and me?" Or was the midnight silence too much for her; -and the thought of the dusky cathedral over there; with the gravestones -pale in the moonlight; and all around a whispering of the lonely sea? -She had nothing to fear. She might have crossed over to Iona and might -have walked all by herself through the ruins, and in calmness regarded -the sculptured stones. The dead sleep sound. - - - - - *CHAPTER VII.* - - *SECRET SCHEMES.* - - -The delight with which John of Skye heard that his friend Dr. Sutherland -was coming back to the yacht, and that we were now setting out for -Ballahulish or Corpach to meet him, found instant and practical -expression on this fine, breezy, sunlit morning. - -"Hector," says he, "we will put the gaff topsail on her!" - -What did he care though this squally breeze came blowing down the Sound -in awkward gusts? - -"It is a fine wind, mem," says he to the Admiral, as we slowly leave the -green waters and the pink rocks of Polterriv, and get into the open and -breezy channel. "Oh, we will mek a good run the day. And I beg your -pardon, mem, but it is a great pleasure to me that Mr. Sutherland -himself is coming back to the yat." - -"He understands your clever sailing, John: is that it?" - -"He knows more about a yat as any chentleman I will ever see, mem. And -we will try to get a good breeze for him this time, mem--and not to have -the calm weather." - -This is not likely to be a day of calm weather, at all events. Tide and -wind together take us away swiftly from the little harbour behind the -granite rocks. And is Iona over there all asleep; or are there some -friends in the small village watching the _White Dove_ bearing away to -the south? We wave our handkerchiefs on chance. We take a last look at -the gabled ruins over the sea; at the green corn-fields; and the -scattered houses; and the beaches of silver sand. Good-bye--good-bye! -It is a last look for this summer at least; perhaps it is a last look -for ever. But Iona too--as well as Ulva--remains in the memory a vision -of sunlight, and smooth seas, and summer days. - -Harder and harder blows this fresh breeze from the north; and we are -racing down the Sound with the driven waves. But for the rope round the -tiller, Miss Avon, who is steering, would find it difficult to keep her -feet; and her hair is blown all about her face. The salt water comes -swishing down the scuppers; the churned foam goes hissing and boiling -away from the sides of the vessel; the broad Atlantic widens out. And -that small grey thing at the horizon? Can that speck be a mass of -masonry a hundred and fifty feet in height, wedged into the lonely rock? - -"No, no," says our gentle Queen Titania with an involuntary shudder, -"not for worlds would I climb up that iron ladder, with the sea and the -rocks right below me. I should never get half-way up." - -"They will put a rope round your waist, if you like," it is pointed out -to her. - -"When we go out, then," says this coward. "I will see how Mary gets on. -If she does not die of fright, I may venture." - -"Oh, but I don't think I shall be with you," remarks the young lady -quite simply. - -At this there is a general stare. - -"I don't know what you mean," says her hostess, with an ominous -curtness. - -"Why, you know," says the girl, cheerfully--and disengaging one hand to -get her hair out of her eyes--"I can't afford to go idling much longer. -I must get back to London." - -"Don't talk nonsense," says the other woman, angrily. "You may try to -stop other people's holidays, if you like; but I am going to look after -yours. Holidays! How are you to work, if you don't work now? Will you -find many landscapes in Regent Street?" - -"I have a great many sketches," says Mary Avon, "and I must try to make -something out of them, where there is less distraction of amusement. -And really, you know, you have so many friends--would you like me to -become a fixture--like the mainmast--" - -"I would like you to talk a little common sense," is the sharp reply. -"You are not going back to London till the _White Dove_ is laid up for -the winter--that is what I know." - -"I am afraid I must ask you to let me off," she says, quite simply and -seriously. "Suppose I go up to London next week? Then, if I get on -pretty well, I may come back----" - -"You may come back!" says the other with a fine contempt. "Don't try to -impose on me. I am an older woman than you. And I have enough -provocations and worries from other quarters: I don't want you to begin -and bother." - -"Is your life so full of trouble?" says the girl, innocently. "What are -these fearful provocations?" - -"Never mind. You will find out in time. But when you get married, Mary, -don't forget to buy a copy of Doddridge on Patience. That should be -included in every bridal trousseau." - -"Poor thing--is it so awfully ill-used?" replies the steersman, with -much compassion. - -Here John of Skye comes forward. - -"If ye please, mem, I will tek the tiller until we get round the Ross. -The rocks are very bad here." - -"All right, John," says the young lady; and then, with much cautious -clinging to various objects, she goes below, saying that she means to do -a little more to a certain slight water-colour sketch of Polterriv. We -know why she wants to put some further work on that hasty production. -Yesterday the Laird expressed high approval of the sketch. She means -him to take it with him to Denny-mains, when she leaves for London. - -But this heavy sea: how is the artist getting on with her work amid such -pitching and diving? Now that we are round the Ross, the _White Dove_ -has shifted her course; the wind is more on her beam; the mainsheet has -been hauled in; and the noble ship goes ploughing along in splendid -style; but how about water-colour drawing? - -Suddenly, as the yacht gives a heavy lurch to leeward, an awful sound is -heard below. Queen T. clambers down the companion, and holds on by the -door of the saloon; the others following and looking over her shoulders. -There a fearful scene appears. At the head of the table, in the regal -recess usually occupied by the carver and chief president of our -banquets, sits Mary Avon, in mute and blank despair. Everything has -disappeared from before her. A tumbler rolls backwards and forwards on -the floor, empty. A dishevelled bundle of paper, hanging on to the edge -of a carpet-stool, represents what was once an orderly sketch-book. -Tubes, pencils, saucers, sponges--all have gone with the table-cloth. -And the artist sits quite hopeless and silent, staring before her like a -maniac in a cell. - -"Whatever have you been and done?" calls her hostess. - -There is no answer: only that tragic despair. - -"It was all bad steering," remarks the Youth. "I knew it would happen -as soon as Miss Avon left the helm." - -But the Laird, not confining his sympathy to words, presses by his -hostess; and, holding hard by the bare table, staggers along to the -scene of the wreck. The others timidly follow. One by one the various -objects are rescued, and placed for safety on the couch on the leeward -side of the saloon. Then the automaton in the presidential chair begins -to move. She recovers her powers of speech. She says--awaking from her -dream-- - -"Is my head on?" - -"And if it is, it is not of much use to you," says her hostess, angrily. -"Whatever made you have those things out in a sea like this? Come up on -deck at once; and let Fred get luncheon ready." - -The maniac only laughs. - -"Luncheon!" she says. "Luncheon in the middle of earthquakes!" - -But this sneer at the _White Dove_, because she has no swinging table, -is ungenerous. Besides, is not our Friedrich d'or able to battle any -pitching with his ingeniously bolstered couch--so that bottles, glasses, -plates, and what not, are as safe as they would be in a case in the -British Museum? A luncheon party on board the _White Dove_, when there -is a heavy Atlantic swell running, is not an imposing ceremony. It -would not look well as a coloured lithograph in the illustrated papers. -The figures crouching on the low stools to leeward; the narrow cushion -bolstered up so that the most enterprising of dishes cannot slide; the -table-cover plaited so as to afford receptacles for knives and spoons; -bottles and tumblers plunged into hollows and propped; Master Fred, -balancing himself behind these stooping figures, bottle in hand, and -ready to replenish any cautiously proffered wine-glass. But it serves. -And Dr. Sutherland has assured us that, the heavier the sea, the more -necessary is luncheon for the weaker vessels, who may be timid about the -effect of so much rolling and pitching. When we get on deck again, who -is afraid? It is all a question as to what signal may be visible to the -white house of Carsaig--shining afar there in the sunlight, among the -hanging woods, and under the soft purple of the hills. -Behold!--behold!--the red flag run up to the top of the white pole! Is -it a message to us, or only a summons to the _Pioneer_? For now, -through the whirl of wind and spray, we can make out the steamer that -daily encircles Mull, bringing with it white loaves, and newspapers, and -other luxuries of the mainland. - -She comes nearer and nearer; the throbbing of the paddles is heard among -the rush of the waves; the people crowd to the side of the boat to have -a look at the passing yacht; and one well-known figure, standing on the -hurricane deck, raises his gilt-braided cap,--for we happen to have on -board a gentle small creature who is a great friend of his. And she -waves her white handkerchief, of course; and you should see what a -fluttering of similar tokens there is all along the steamer's decks, and -on the paddle boxes. Farewell!--farewell!--may you have a smooth -landing at Staffa, and a pleasant sail down the Sound, in the quiet of -the afternoon! The day wears on, with puffs and squalls coming tearing -over from the high cliffs of southern Mull; and still the gallant _White -Dove_ meets and breasts those rolling waves, and sends the spray flying -from her bows. We have passed Loch Buy; Garveloch and the Island of -Saints are drawing nearer; soon we shall have to bend our course -northward, when we have got by Eilean-straid-ean. And whether it is -that Mary Avon is secretly comforting herself with the notion that she -will soon see her friends in London again, or whether it is that she is -proud of being again promoted to the tiller, she has quite recovered her -spirits. We hear our singing-bird once more--though it is difficult, -amid the rush and swirl of the waters, to do more than catch chance -phrases and refrains. And then she is being very merry with the Laird, -who is humorously decrying England and the English, and proving to her -that it is the Scotch migration to the south that is the very saving of -her native country. - -"The Lord Chief Justice of England, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the -President of the Royal Academy--the heads and leading men -everywhere--all Scotch--all Scotch," says he. - -"But the weak point about the Scotch, sir," says this philosopher in the -ulster, who is clinging on to the tiller rope, "is their modesty. They -are so distrustful of their own merits. And they are always running down -their own country." - -"Ha, ha!--ho! ho! ho!" roars the Laird. "Verra good! verra good! I owe -ye one for that. I owe ye one. Howard, have ye nothing to say in -defence of your native country?" - -"You are speaking of Scotland, sir?" - -"Ay." - -"That is not my native country, you know." - -"It was your mother's, then." - -Somehow, when by some accident--and it but rarely happened--the Laird -mentioned Howard Smith's mother, a brief silence fell on him. It lasted -but a second or two. Presently he was saying, with much cheerfulness-- - -"No, no, I am not one of those that would promote any rivalry between -Scotland and England. We are one country now. If the Scotch preserve -the best leeterary English--the most pithy and characteristic forms of -the language--the English that is talked in the south is the most -generally received throughout the world. I have even gone the -length--I'm no ashamed to admit it--of hinting to Tom Galbraith that he -should exheebit more in London: the influence of such work as his should -not be confined to Edinburgh. And jealous as they may be in the south -of the Scotch school, they could not refuse to recognise its -excellence--eh? No, no; when Galbraith likes to exheebit in London, -ye'll hear a stir, I'm thinking. The jealousy of English artists will -have no effect on public opeenion. They may keep him out o' the -Academy--there's many a good artist has never been within the walls--but -the public is the judge. I am told that when his picture of _Stonebyres -Falls_ was exheebited in Edinburgh, a dealer came all the way from -London to look at it." - -"Did he buy it?" asked Miss Avon, gently. - -"Buy it!" the Laird said, with a contemptuous laugh. "There are some of -us about Glasgow who know better than to let a picture like that get to -London. I bought it myself. Ye'll see it when ye come to Denny-mains. -Ye have heard of it, no doubt?" - -"N--no, I think not," she timidly answers. - -"No matter--no matter. Ye'll see it when ye come to Denny-mains." - -He seemed to take it for granted that she was going to pay a visit to -Denny-mains: had he not heard, then, of her intention of at once -returning to London? - -Once well round into the Frith of Lorn, the wind that had borne us down -the Sound of Iona was now right ahead; and our progress was but slow. -As the evening wore on, it was proposed that we should run into Loch -Speliv for the night. There was no dissentient voice. - -The sudden change from the plunging seas without to the quiet waters of -the solitary little loch was strange enough. And then, as we slowly -beat up against the northerly wind to the head of the loch--a beautiful, -quiet, sheltered little cup of a harbour among the hills--we found -before us, or rather over us, the splendours of a stormy sunset among -the mountains above Glen More. It was a striking spectacle--the vast -and silent gloom of the valleys below, which were of a cold and intense -green in the shadow; then above, among the great shoulders and peaks of -the hills, flashing gleams of golden light, and long swathes of purple -cloud touched with scarlet along their edges, and mists of rain that -came along with the wind, blotting out here and there those splendid -colours. There was an absolute silence in this overshadowed bay--but -for the cry of the startled wild-fowl. There was no sign of any -habitation, except perhaps a trace of pale blue smoke rising from behind -a mass of trees. Away went the anchor with a short, sharp rattle; we -were safe for the night. - -We knew, however, what that trace of smoke indicated behind the dark -trees. By and by, as soon as the gig had got to the land, there was a -procession along the solitary shore--in the wan twilight--and up the -rough path--and through the scattered patches of birch and fir. And were -you startled, Madam, by the apparition of people who were so -inconsiderate as to knock at your door in the middle of dinner, and -whose eyes, grown accustomed to the shadows of the valleys of Mull, must -have looked bewildered enough on meeting the glare of the lamps? And -what did you think of a particular pair of eyes--very soft and gentle in -their dark lustre--appealing, timid, friendly eyes, that had -nevertheless a quiet happiness and humour in them? It was at all events -most kind of you to tell the young lady that her notion of throwing up -her holiday and setting out for London was mere midsummer madness. How -could you--or any one else--guess at the origin of so strange a wish? - - - - - *CHAPTER VIII.* - - *BEFORE BREAKFAST.* - - -Who is this who slips through the saloon, while as yet all on board are -asleep--who noiselessly ascends the companion-way, and then finds -herself alone on deck? And all the world around her is asleep too, -though the gold and rose of the new day is shining along the eastern -heavens. There is not a sound in this silent little loch: the shores -and the woods are as still as the far peaks of the mountains, where the -mists are touched here and there with a dusky fire. - -She is not afraid to be alone in this silent world. There is a bright -and contented look on her face. Carefully and quietly, so as not to -disturb the people below, she gets a couple of deck stools, and puts -down the large sketch-book from under her arm, and opens out a certain -leather case. But do not think she is going to attack that blaze of -colour in the east, with the reflected glare on the water, and the bar -of dark land between. She knows better. She has a wholesome fear of -chromo-lithographs. She turns rather to those great mountain masses, -with their mysteriously moving clouds, and their shoulders touched here -and there with a sombre red, and their deep and silent glens a cold, -intense green in shadow. There is more workable material. - -And after all there is no ambitious effort to trouble her. It is only a -rough jotting of form and colour, for future use. It is a pleasant -occupation for this still, cool, beautiful morning; and perhaps she is -fairly well satisfied with it, for one listening intently might catch -snatches of songs and airs--of a somewhat incoherent and inappropriate -character. For what have the praises of Bonny Black Bess to do with -sunrise in Loch Speliv? Or the saucy Arethusa either? But all the same -the work goes quietly and dexterously on--no wild dashes and searchings -for theatrical effect, but a patient mosaic of touches precisely -reaching their end. She does not want to bewilder the world. She wants -to have trustworthy records for her own use. And she seems content with -the progress she is making. - - _Here's a health to the girls that we loved long ago,_ - -this is the last air into which she has wandered--half humming and half -whistling-- - - _Where the Shannon, and Liffey, and Blackwater flow._ - ---when she suddenly stops her work to listen. Can any one be up already? -The noise is not repeated; and she proceeds with her work. - - _Here's a health to old Ireland: may she ne'er be dismayed;_ - _Then pale grew the cheeks of the Irish Brigade!_ - - -The clouds are assuming substance now: they are no mere flat washes but -accurately drawn objects that have their fore-shortening like anything -else. And if Miss Avon may be vaguely conscious that had our young -Doctor been on board she would not have been left so long alone, that -had nothing to with her work. The mornings on which he used to join her -on deck, and chat to her while she painted, seem far away now. He and -she together would see Dunvegan no more. - -But who is this who most cautiously comes up the companion, bearing in -his hand a cup and saucer? - -"Miss Avon," says he, with a bright laugh, "here is the first cup of tea -I ever made; are you afraid to try it?" - -"Oh, dear me," said she, penitently, "did I make any noise in getting my -things below?" - -"Well," he says, "I thought I heard you; and I knew what you would be -after; and I got up and lit the spirit-lamp." - -"Oh, it is so very kind of you," she says--for it is really a pretty -little attention on the part of one who is not much given to shifting -for himself on board. - -Then he dives below again and fetches her up some biscuits. - -"By Jove," he says, coming closer to the sketch, "that is very good. -That is awfully good. Do you mean to say you have done all that this -morning?" - -"Oh, yes," she says, modestly. "It is only a sketch." - -"I think it uncommonly good," he says, staring at it as if he would -pierce the paper. - -Then there is a brief silence, during which Miss Avon boldly adventures -upon this amateur's tea. - -"I beg your pardon," he says, after a bit, "it is none of my business, -you know--but you don't really mean that you are going back to London?" - -"If I am allowed," she answers with a smile. - -"I am sure you will disappoint your friends most awfully," says he, in -quite an earnest manner. "I know they had quite made up their minds you -were to stay the whole time. It would be very unfair of you. And my -uncle: he would break his heart if you were to go." - -"They are all very kind to me," was her only answer. - -"Look here," he says, with a most friendly anxiety. "If--if--it is only -about business--about pictures I mean--I really beg your pardon for -intermeddling----" - -"Oh," said she, frankly, "there is no secret about it. In fact, I want -everybody to know that I am anxious to sell my pictures. You see, as I -have got to earn my own living, shouldn't I begin at once and find out -what it is like?" - -"But look here," he said eagerly, "if it is a question of selling -pictures, you should trust to my uncle. He is among a lot of men in the -West of Scotland, rich merchants and people of that sort, who haven't -inherited collections of pictures, and whose hobby is to make a -collection for themselves. And they have much too good sense to buy -spurious old masters, or bad examples for the sake of the name: they -prefer good modern art, and I can tell you they are prepared to pay for -it too. And they are not fools, mind you; they know good pictures. You -may think my uncle is very prejudiced--he has his favourite -artists--and--and believes in Tom Galbraith, don't you know--but I can -assure you, you won't find many men who know more about a good landscape -than he does; and you would say so if you saw his dining room at -Denny-mains." - -"I quite believe that," said she, beginning to put up her materials: she -had done her morning's work. - -"Well," he says, "you trust to him; there are lots of those Glasgow men -who would only be too glad to have the chance----" - -"Oh, no, no," she cried, laughing. "I am not going to coerce people -into buying my pictures for the sake of friendship. I think your uncle -would buy every sketch I have on board the yacht; but I cannot allow my -friends to be victimised." - -"Oh, victimised!" said he, scornfully. "They ought to be glad to have -the chance. And do you mean to go on giving away your work for nothing? -That sketch of the little creek we were in--opposite Iona, don't you -know--that you gave my uncle, is charming. And they tell me you have -given that picture of the rocks and sea-birds--where is the place?----" - -"Oh, do you mean the sketch in the saloon--of Canna?" - -"Yes; why it is one of the finest landscapes I ever saw. And they tell -me you gave it to that doctor who was on board!" - -"Dr. Sutherland," says she, hastily--and there is a quick colour in her -face--"seemed to like it as--as a sort of reminiscence, you know----" - -"But he should not have accepted a valuable picture," said the Youth, -with decision. "No doubt you offered it to him when you saw he admired -it. But now--when he must understand that--well, in fact, that -circumstances are altered--he will have the good sense to give it you -back again." - -"Oh, I hope not," she says, with her embarrassment not diminishing. -"I--I should not like that! I--I should be vexed." - -"A person of good tact and good taste," says this venturesome young man, -"would make a joke of it--would insist that you never meant it--and -would prefer to buy the picture." - -She answers, somewhat shortly-- - -"I think not. I think Dr. Sutherland has as good taste as any one. He -would know that that would vex me very much." - -"Oh, well," says he, with a sort of carelessness, "every one to his -liking. If he cares to accept so valuable a present, good and well." - -"You don't suppose he asked me for it?" she says, rather warmly. "I -gave it him. He would have been rude to have refused it. I was very -much pleased that he cared for the picture." - -"Oh, he is a judge of art, also? I am told he knows everything." - -"He was kind enough to say he liked the sketch; that was enough for me." - -"He is very lucky; that is all I have to say." - -"I dare say he has forgotten all about such a trifle. He has more -important things to think about." - -"Well," said he, with a good-natured laugh, "I should not consider such -a picture a trifle if any one presented it to me. But it is always the -people who get everything they want who value things least." - -"Do you think Dr. Sutherland such a fortunate person?" says she. "Well, -he is fortunate in having great abilities; and he is fortunate in having -chosen a profession that has already secured him great honour, and that -promises a splendid future to him. But that is the result of hard work; -and he has to work hard now. I don't think most men would like to -change places with him just at present." - -"He has one good friend and champion, at all events," he says, with a -pleasant smile. - -"Oh," says she, hastily and anxiously, "I am saying what I hear. My -acquaintance with Dr. Sutherland is--is quite recent, I may say; though -I have met him in London. I only got to know something about him when -he was in Edinburgh, and I happened to be there too." - -"He is coming back to the yacht," observes Mr. Smith. - -"He will be foolish to think of it," she answers, simply. - -At this stage the yacht begins to wake up. The head of Hector of -Moidart, much dishevelled, appears at the forecastle, and that wiry -mariner is rubbing his eyes; but no sooner does he perceive that one of -the ladies is on deck than he suddenly ducks down again--to get his face -washed, and his paper collar. Then there is a voice heard in the saloon -calling:-- - -"Who has left my spirit-lamp burning?" - -"Oh, good gracious!" says the Youth, and tumbles down the companion -incontinently. - -Then the Laird appears, bringing up with him a huge red volume entitled -_Municipal London_; but no sooner does he find that Miss Avon is on deck -than he puts aside that mighty compendium, and will have her walk up and -down with him before breakfast. - -"What?" he says, eyeing the cup and saucer, "have ye had your breakfast -already?" - -"Mr. Smith was so kind as to bring me a cup of tea." - -"What," he says again--and he is obviously greatly delighted. "Of his -own making? I did not think he had as much gumption." - -"I beg your pardon, sir?" said she. She had been startled by the -whistling of a curlew close by, and had not heard him distinctly. - -"I said he was a smart lad," said the Laird, unblushingly. "Oh, ay, a -good lad; ye will not find many better lads than Howard. Will I tell ye -a secret?" - -"Well, sir--if you like," said she. - -There was a mysterious, but humorous look about the Laird; and he spoke -in a whisper. - -"It is not good sometimes for young folk to know what is in store for -them. But I mean to give him Denny-mains. Whish! Not a word. I'll -surprise him some day." - -"He ought to be very grateful to you, sir," was her answer. - -"That he is--that he is," said the Laird; "he's an obedient lad. And I -should not wonder if he had Denny-mains long before he expects it; -though I must have my crust of bread, ye know. It would be a fine -occupation for him, looking after the estate; and what is the use of his -living in London, and swallowing smoke and fog? I can assure ye that -the air at Denny-mains, though it's no far from Glasgow, is as pure as -it is in this very Loch Speliv." - -"Oh, indeed, sir." - -They had another couple of turns in silence. - -"Ye're verra fond of sailing," says the Laird. - -"I am now," she says. "But I was very much afraid before I came; I have -suffered so terribly in crossing the Channel. Somehow one never thinks -of being ill here--with nice clean cabins--and no engines throbbing----" - -"I meant that ye like well enough to go sailing about these places?" - -"Oh yes," says she. "When shall I ever have such a beautiful holiday, -again?" - -The Laird laughed a little to himself. Then he said with a -business-like air: - -"I have been thinking that, when my nephew came to Denny-mains, I would -buy a yacht for him, that he could keep down the Clyde somewhere--at -Gourock, or Kilmun, or Dunoon, maybe. It is a splendid ground for -yachting--a splendid! Ye have never been through the Kyles of Bute?" - -"Oh, yes, sir; I have been through them in the steamer." - -"Ay, but a yacht; wouldn't that be better? And I am no sure I would not -advise him to have a steam-yacht--ye are so much more independent of -wind and tide; and I'm thinking ye could get a verra good little -steam-yacht for 3,000*l*." - -"Oh, indeed." - -"A great deal depends on the steward," he continues, seriously. "A good -steward that does not touch drink, is jist worth anything. If I could -get a first-class man, I would not mind giving him two pounds a week, -with his clothes and his keep, while the yacht was being used; and I -would not let him away in the winter--no, no. Ye could employ him at -Denny-mains, as a butler-creature, or something like that." - -She did not notice the peculiarity of the little pronoun: if she had, -how could she have imagined that the Laird was really addressing himself -to her? - -"I have none but weeman-servants indoors at Denny-mains," he continued, -"but when Howard comes, I would prefer him to keep the house like other -people, and I will not stint him as to means. Have I told ye what -Welliam Dunbaur says-- - - _Be merry, man, and tak not sair in mind--_" - - -"Oh, yes, I remember." - -"There's fine common sense in that. And do not you believe the people -who tell ye that the Scotch are a dour people, steeped in Calvinism, and -niggardly and grasping at the last farthing----" - -"I have found them exceedingly kind to me, and warm-hearted and -generous--" says she; but he interrupted her suddenly. - -"I'll tell ye what I'll do," said he, with decision. "When I buy that -yacht, I'll get Tom Galbraith to paint every panel in the saloon--no -matter what it costs!" - -"Your nephew will be very proud of it," she said. - -"And I would expect to take a trip in her myself, occasionally," he -added, in a facetious manner. "I would expect to be invited----" - -"Surely, sir, you cannot expect your nephew to be so ungrateful----" - -"Oh," he said, "I only expect reasonable things. Young people are young -people; they cannot like to be always hampered by grumbling old fogeys. -No, no; if I present any one wi' a yacht, I do not look on myself as a -piece of its furniture." - -The Laird seemed greatly delighted. His step on the deck was firmer. -In the pauses of the conversation she heard something about-- - - _tantara! Sing tantara!_ - - -"Will ye take your maid with ye?" he asked of her, abruptly. - -The girl looked up with a bewildered air--perhaps with a trifle of alarm -in her eyes. - -"I, sir?" - -"Ha, ha!" said he, laughing, "I forgot. Ye have not been invited yet. -No more have I. But--if the yacht were ready--and--and if ye were -going--ye would take your maid, no doubt, for comfort's sake?" - -The girl looked reassured. She said, cheerfully: - -"Well, sir, I don't suppose I shall ever go yachting again, after I -leave the _White Dove_. And if I were, I don't suppose I should be able -to afford to have a maid with me, unless the dealers in London should -suddenly begin to pay me a good deal more than they have done hitherto." - -At this point she was summoned below by her hostess calling. The Laird -was left alone on deck. He continued to pace up and down, muttering to -himself, with a proud look on his face. - -"A landscape in every panel, as I'm a living man! ... Tom 'll do it -well, when I tell him who it's for.... The leddies' cabin blue and -silver--cool in the summer--the skylight pented--she'll no be saying -that the Scotch are wanting in taste when she sees that cabin! - - Sing tantara! Sing tantara! - * * * The Highland army rues - That ere they came to Cromdale! - -And her maid--if she will not be able to afford a maid, who -will?--French, if she likes! Blue and silver--blue and silver--that's -it!" - -And then the Laird, still humming his lugubrious battle-song, comes down -into the saloon. - -"Good morning, ma'am; good morning! Breakfast ready? I'm just ravenous. -That wild lassie has walked me up and down until I am like to faint. A -beautiful morning again--splendid!--splendid! And do ye know where ye -will be this day next year?" - -"I am sure I don't," says his hostess, busy with the breakfast-things. - -"I will tell ye. Anchored in the Holy Loch, off Kilmun, in a -screw-yacht. Mark my words now: _this very day next year!_" - - - - - *CHAPTER IX.* - - *A PROTECTOR.* - - -"Oh, ay," says John of Skye, quite proudly, as we go on deck after -breakfast, "there will be no more o' the dead calms. We will give Mr. -Sutherland a good breeze or two when he comes back to the yat." - -It is all Mr. Sutherland and Mr. Sutherland now!--everything is to be -done because Mr. Sutherland is coming. Each belaying pin is polished so -that one might see to shave in it; Hector of Moidart has spent about two -hours in scraping and rubbing the brass and copper of the galley -stove-pipe; and Captain John, with many grins and apologies, has got -Miss Avon to sew up a rent that has begun to appear in the red ensign. -All that he wants now is to have the yacht beached for a couple of days, -to have the long slender sea-grass scraped from her hull: then Mr. -Sutherland will see how the _White Dove_ will sail! - -"I should imagine," says the Youth, in an undertone, to his hostess, as -we are working out the narrow entrance to Loch Speliv, "that your -doctor-friend must have given those men a liberal _pour-boire_ when he -left." - -"Oh, I am sure not," said she, quickly, as if that was a serious -imputation. "That is very unlikely." - -"They seem very anxious to have everything put right against his -coming," he says; "at all events, your captain seems to think that every -good breeze he gets is merely thrown away on us." - -"Dr. Sutherland and he," she says, laughing, "were very good friends. -And then Angus had very bad luck when he was on board: the glass -wouldn't fall. But I have promised to bottle up the equinoctials for -him--he will have plenty of winds before we have done with him. You must -stay too, you know, Mr. Smith, and see how the _White Dove_ rides out a -gale." - -He regarded her--with some suspicion. He was beginning to know that -this lady's speech--despite the great gentleness and innocence of her -eyes--sometimes concealed curious meanings. And was she now merely -giving him a kind and generous invitation to go yachting with us for -another month; or was she, with a cruel sarcasm, referring to the -probability of his having to remain a prisoner for that time, in order -to please his uncle? - -However, the conversation had to be dropped, for at this moment the -Laird and his _protegee_ made their appearance; and, of course, a -deck-chair had to be brought for her, and a foot-stool, and a sunshade, -and a book. But what were these attentions, on the part of her elderly -slave, compared with the fact that a young man, presumably enjoying a -sound and healthy sleep, should have unselfishly got up at an unholy -hour of the morning, and should have risked blowing up the yacht with -spirits of wine in order to get her a cup of tea? - -It was a fine sailing day. Running before a light topsail breeze from -the south-east, the _White Dove_ was making for the Lynn of Morven, and -bringing us more and more within view of the splendid circle of -mountains, from Ben Cruachan in the east to Ben Nevis in the north; from -Ben Nevis down to the successive waves of the Morven hills. And we knew -why, among all the sunlit yellows and greens--faint as they were in the -distance--there were here and there on slope and shoulder stains of a -beautiful rose-purple that were a new feature in the landscape. The -heather was coming into bloom--the knee-deep, honey-scented heather, the -haunt of the snipe, and the muircock, and the mountain hare. And if -there was to be for us this year no toiling over the high slopes and -crags--looking down from time to time on a spacious world of sunlit sea -and island--we were not averse from receiving friendly and substantial -messages from those altitudes. In a day or two now the first crack of -the breechloader would startle the silence of the morning air. And -Master Fred's larder was sorely in want of variety. - -Northward, and still northward, the light breeze tempering the scorching -sunlight that glares on the sails and the deck. Each long ripple of the -running blue sea flashes in diamonds; and when we look to the south, -those silver lines converge and converge, until at the horizon they -become a solid blaze of light unendurable to the eye. But it is to the -north we turn--to the land of Appin, and Kingairloch, and Lochaber: -blow, light wind; and carry us onward, gentle tide; we have an -appointment to keep within shadow of the mountains that guard Glencoe. - -The Laird has discovered that these two were up early this morning: he -becomes facetious. - -"Not sleepy yet, Miss Mary?" he says. - -"Oh, no--not at all," she says, looking up from her book. - -"It's the early bird that catches the first sketch. Fine and healthy is -that early rising, Howard. I'm thinking ye did not sleep sound last -night: what for were ye up before anybody was stirring?" - -But the Laird does not give him time to answer. Something has tickled -the fancy of this profound humourist. - -"_Kee! kee!_" he laughs; and he rubs his hands. "I mind a good one I -heard from Tom Galbraith, when he and I were at the Bridge of Allan; -room to room, ye know; and Tom did snore that night. 'What,' said I to -him in the morning, 'had ye nightmare, or _delirium tremens_, that ye -made such a noise in the night?' 'Did I snore?' said he--I'm thinking -somebody else must have complained before. 'Snore?' said I, 'twenty -grampuses was nothing to it.' And Tom--he burst out a-laughing. 'I'm -very glad,' says he. 'If I snored, I must have had a sound sleep!' A -_sound_ sleep--d'ye see? Very sharp--very smart--eh?"--and the Laird -laughed and chuckled over that portentous joke. - -"Oh, uncle, uncle, uncle!" his nephew cried. "You used never to do such -things. You must quit the society of those artists, if they have such a -corrupting influence on you." - -"I tell ye," he says, with a sudden seriousness, "I would just like to -show Tom Galbraith that picture o' Canna that's below. No; I would not -ask him to alter a thing. Very good--very good it is. And--and--I -think--I will admit it--for a plain man likes the truth to be -told--there is just a bit jealousy among them against any English person -that tries to paint Scotch scenery. No, no, Miss Mary--don't you be -afraid. Ye can hold your own. If I had that picture, now--if it -belonged to me--and if Tom was stopping wi' me at Denny-mains, I would -not allow him to alter it, not if he offered to spend a week's work on -it." - -After that--what? The Laird could say no more. - -Alas! alas! our wish to take a new route northward was all very well; -but we had got under the lee of Lismore, and slowly and slowly the wind -died away, until even the sea was as smooth as the surface of a mirror. -It was but little compensation that we could lean over the side of the -yacht, and watch the thousands of "sea-blubbers" far down in the water, -in all their hues of blue, and purple, and pale pink. The heat of the -sun was blistering; scorching with a sharp pain any nose or cheek that -was inadvertently turned towards it. As for the Laird, he could not -stand this oven-like business any longer; he declared the saloon was -ever so much cooler than the deck; and went down below, and lay at -length on one of the long blue cushions. - -"Why, John," says Queen T., "you are bringing on those dead calms again. -What will Dr. Sutherland say to you?" - -But John of Skye has his eye on the distant shore. - -"Oh, no, mem," he says, with a crafty smile, "there will not be a dead -calm very long." - -And there, in at the shore, we see a dark line on the water; and it -spreads and spreads; the air becomes gratefully cool to the face before -the breeze perceptibly fills the sails; then there is a cheerful swing -over of the boom and a fluttering of the as yet unreleased head-sails. -A welcome breeze, surely, from the far hills of Kingairloch. We thank -you, you beautiful Kingairloch, with your deep glens and your -rose-purple shoulders of hills: long may you continue to send fresh -westerly winds to the parched and passing voyager! - -We catch a distant glimpse of the white houses of Port Appin; we bid -adieu to the musically-named Eilean-na-Shuna; far ahead of us is the -small white lighthouse at the mouth of the narrows of Corran. But there -is to be no run up to Fort William for us to-night; the tide will turn -soon; we cannot get through the Corran narrows. And so there is a talk -of Ballahulish; and Captain John is trying hard to get Miss Avon to -pronounce this Bal-a-chaolish. It is not fair of Sandy from Islay--who -thinks he is hidden by the foresail--to grin to himself at these -innocent efforts. - -Grander and grander grow those ramparts of mountains ahead of us--with -their wine-coloured stains of heather on the soft and velvety -yellow-green. The wind from the Kingairloch shores still carries us on; -and Inversanda swells the breeze; soon we shall be running into that -wide channel that leads up to the beautiful Loch Leven. The Laird -reappears on deck. He is quite enchanted with the scene around him. He -says if an artist had placed that black cloud behind the great bulk of -Ben Nevis, it could not have been more artistically arranged. He -declares that this entrance to Loch Leven is one of the most beautiful -places he has ever seen. He calls attention to the soft green foliage -of the steep hills; and to that mighty peak of granite, right in the -middle of the landscape, that we discover to be called the Pap of -Glencoe. And here, in the mellow light of the afternoon, is the steamer -coming down from the north: is it to be a race between us for the -Bal-a-chaolish quay? - -It is an unfair race. We have to yield to brute strength and steam -kettles. - - _Four to one Argyle came on,_ - -as the dirge of Eric says. But we bear no malice. We salute our enemy -as he goes roaring and throbbing by; and there is many a return signal -waved to us from the paddle-boxes. - -"Mr. Sutherland is no there, mem, I think," says Captain John, who has -been scanning those groups of people with his keen eyes. - -"I should think not; he said he was coming to-morrow," is the answer. - -"Will he be coming down by the _Chevalier_ in the morning, or by the -_Mountaineer_ at night?" is the further question. - -"I don't know." - -"We will be ashore for him in the morning, whatever," says John of Skye -cheerfully; and you would have thought it was his guest, and not ours, -who was coming on board. - -The roaring out of the anchor chain was almost immediately followed by -Master Fred's bell. Mary Avon was silent and _distraite_ at dinner; but -nothing more was said of her return to London. It was understood that, -when Angus Sutherland came on board, we should go back to Castle Osprey, -and have a couple of days on shore, to let the _White Dove_ get rid of -her parasitic seaweed. - -Then, after dinner, a fishing excursion; but this was in a new loch, and -we were not very successful. Or was it that most of us were watching, -from this cup of water surrounded by the circle of great mountains, the -strange movings of the clouds in the gloomy and stormy twilight, long -after the sun had sunk? - -"It is not a very sheltered place," remarked the Laird, "if a squall -were to come down from the hills." - -But by and by something appeared that lent an air of stillness and peace -to this sombre scene around us. Over one of those eastern mountains a -faint, smoky, suffused yellow light began to show; then the outline of -the mountain--serrated with trees--grew dark; then the edge of the moon -appeared over the black line of trees; and by and by the world was -filled with this new, pale light, though the shadows on the hills were -deeper than ever. We did not hurry on our way back to the yacht. It was -a magical night--the black, overhanging hills, the white clouds crossing -the blue vaults of the heavens, the wan light on the sea. What need for -John of Skye to put up that golden lamp at the bow? But it guided us on -our way back--under the dusky shadows of the hills. - -Then below, in the orange-lit cabin, with cards and dominoes and chess -about, a curious thing overhead happens to catch the eye of one of the -gamblers. Through the skylight, with this yellow glare, we ought not to -see anything; but there, shining in the night, is a long bar of pale -phosphorescent green light. What can this be? Why green? And it is -Mary Avon who first suggests what this strangely luminous thing must -be--the boom, wet with the dew, shining in the moonlight. - -"Come," says the Laird to her, "put a shawl round ye, and we will go up -for another look round." - -And so, after a bit, they went on deck, these two, leaving the others to -their bezique. And the Laird was as careful about the wrapping up of -this girl as if she had been a child of five years of age; and when they -went out on to the white deck, he would give her his arm that she should -not trip over any stray rope; and they were such intimate friends now -that he did not feel called upon to talk to her. - -But by and by the heart of the Laird was lifted up within him because of -the wonderful beauty and silence of this moonlight night. - -"It is a great peety," said he, "that you in the south are not brought -up as children to be familiar with the Scotch version of the Psalms of -David. It is a fountain-head of poetry that ye can draw from all your -life long; and is there any poetry in the world can beat it? And many a -time I think that David had a great love for mountains--and that he must -have looked at the hills around Jerusalem--and seen them on many a night -like this. Ye cannot tell, lassie, what stirs in the heart of a -Scotchman or Scotchwoman when they repeat the 121st Psalm:-- - - I to the hills will lift mine eyes, - From whence doth come mine aid; - My safety cometh from the Lord - Who heaven and earth hath made. - Thy foot He'll not let slide, nor will - He slumber that thee keeps: - Behold, He that keeps Israel - He slumbers not nor sleeps. - -Ask your friend Dr. Sutherland--ask him whether he has found anything -among his philosophy, and science, and the new-fangled leeterature of -the day that comes so near to his heart as a verse of the old Psalms -that he learnt as a boy. I have heard of Scotch soldiers in distant -countries just bursting out crying, when they heard by chance a bit -repeated o' the Psalms of David. And the strength and reliance of them: -what grander source of consolation can ye have? 'As the mountains are -round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about His people from -henceforth, even for ever.' What are the trials of the hour to them -that believe and know and hope? They have a sure faith; the captivity -is not for ever. Do ye remember the beginning of the 126th Psalm--it -reminds me most of all of the Scotch phrase - - 'laughin' maist like to greet' - ---'When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them -that dream. Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue -with singing; then said they among the heathen, The Lord hath done great -things for them. The Lord hath done great things for us, whereof we are -glad. Turn again our captivity, O Lord, as the streams in the south!'" - -The Laird was silent for a minute or two; there was nothing but the -pacing up and down the moonlit deck. - -"And you have your troubles too, my lass," said he, at length. "Oh, I -know--though ye put so brave a face on it. But you need not be afraid; -you need not be afraid. Keep up your heart. I am an old man now; I may -have but few years to reckon on; but while I live ye will not want a -friend.... Ye will not want a friend.... If I forget, or refuse what I -promise ye this night, may God do so and more unto me!" - -But the good-hearted Laird will not have her go to sleep with this -solemnity weighing on her mind. - -"Come, come," he says cheerfully, "we will go below now; and you will -sing me a song--the Queen's Maries, if ye like--though I doubt but that -they were a lot o' wild hizzies." - - - - - *CHAPTER X.* - - *"MARY, MARY!"* - - -Is there any one awake and listening--perhaps with a tremor of the -heart--for the calling out of "_White Dove_, ahoy!" from the shore? Once -the ordinary loud noises of the morning are over--the brief working of -the pump, the washing down of the decks--silence reigns once more -throughout the yacht. One can only hear a whispering of the rain above. - -Then, in the distance, there is a muffled sound of the paddles of a -steamer; and that becomes fainter and fainter, while the _White Dove_ -gradually loses the motion caused by the passing waves. Again there is -an absolute stillness; with only that whispering of the rain. - -But this sudden sound of oars? and the slight shock against the side of -the vessel? The only person on board the yacht who is presentable whips -a shawl over her head, darts up the companion way, and boldly emerges -into the moist and dismal morning. - -"Oh, Angus!" she cries, to this streaming black figure that has just -stepped on deck, "what a day you have brought with you!" - -"Oh, it is nothing!" says a cheerful voice from out of the dripping -macintosh--perhaps it is this shining black garment that makes the wet -face and whiskers and hair glow redder than ever, and makes the blue -eyes look even bluer. "Nothing at all! John and I have agreed it is -going to clear. But this is a fine place to be in, with a falling -glass! If you get a squall down from Glencoe, you won't forget it." - -"A squall!" she says, looking round, in amazement. Well might she -exclaim; for the day is still, and grey, and sombre; the mountains are -swathed in mist; the smooth sea troubled only by the constant rain. - -However, the ruddy-faced Doctor, having divested himself of his dripping -garment, follows his hostess down the companion, and into the saloon, -and sits down on one of the couches. There is an odd, half pathetic -expression on his face, as he looks around. - -"It seems a long time ago," he says, apparently to himself. - -"What does?" asks his hostess, removing her head-gear. - -"The evenings we used to spend in this very saloon," says he--looking -with a strange interest on those commonplace objects, the draughts and -dominoes, the candlesticks and cigar-boxes, the cards and books--"away -up there in the north. It seems years since we were at Dunvegan, -doesn't it, and lying off Vaternish Point? There never was as snug a -cabin as this in any yacht. It is like returning to an old home to get -into it." - -"I am very glad to hear you say so," says his hostess, regarding him -with a great kindliness. "We will try to make you forget that you have -ever been away. Although," she added frankly, "I must tell you you have -been turned out of your state-room--for a time. I know you won't mind -having a berth made up for you on one of those couches." - -"Of course not," he said; "if I am not in your way at all. But----" - -And his face asked the question. - -"Oh! it is a nephew of Denny-mains who has come on board--a Mr. Smith, a -very nice young fellow; I am sure you will like him." - -There was nothing said in reply to this. - -Then the new-comer inquired, rather timidly, "You are all well, I hope?" - -"Oh, yes!" - -"And--and Miss Avon, too?" said he. - -"Oh, yes! But Mary has suffered a great misfortune since you left." - -She looked up quickly. Then she told him the story; and in telling him -her indignation awoke afresh. She spoke rapidly. The old injury had -touched her anew. - -But, strangely enough, although Angus Sutherland displayed a keen -interest in the matter, he was not at all moved to that passion of anger -and desire for vengeance that had shaken the Laird. Not at all. He was -very thoughtful for a time; but he only said, "You mean she has to -support herself now?" - -"Absolutely." - -"She will naturally prefer that to being dependent on her friends?" - -"She will not be dependent on her friends, I know," is the answer; -"though the Laird has taken such a great liking for her that I believe -he would give her half Denny-mains." - -He started a little bit at this; but immediately said-- - -"Of course she will prefer independence. And, as you say, she is quite -capable of earning her own living. Well, she does not worry about it? -It does not trouble her mind?" - -"That affair of her uncle wounded her very keenly, I imagine, though she -said little; but as for the loss of her little fortune, not at all! She -is as light-hearted as ever. The only thing is that she is possessed by -a mad notion that she should start away at once for London." - -"Why?" - -"To begin work; I tell her she must work here." - -"But she is not anxious? She is not troubled?" - -"Not a bit! The Laird says she has the courage of ten men; and I -believe him." - -"That is all right. I was going to prescribe a course of Marcus -Aurelius; but if you have got philosophy in your blood, it is better -than getting it through the brain." - -And so this talk ended; leaving on the mind of one of those two friends -a distinct sense of disappointment. She had been under the impression -that Angus Sutherland had a very warm regard for Mary Avon; and she had -formed certain other suspicions. She had made sure that he, more -quickly than any one else, would resent the injury done to this helpless -girl. And now he seemed to treat it as of no account. If she was not -troubling herself; if she was not giving herself headaches about it: -then, no matter! It was a professional view of the case. A dose of -Marcus Aurelius? It was not thus that the warm-hearted Laird had -espoused Mary Avon's cause. - -Then the people came one by one in to breakfast; and our young Doctor -was introduced to the stranger who had ousted him from his state-room. -Last of all came Mary Avon. - -How she managed to go along to him, and to shake hands with him, seeing -that her eyes were bent on the floor all the time, was a mystery. But -she did shake hands with him; and said, "How do you do?" in a somewhat -formal manner; and she seemed a little paler than usual. - -"I don't think you are looking quite as well as when I left," said he, -with a great interest and kindness in his look. - -"Thank you, I am very well," she said; and then she instantly turned to -the Laird and began chatting to him. Angus Sutherland's face burned -red; it was not thus she had been used to greet him in the morning, when -we were far away beyond the shores of Canna. - -And then, when we found that the rain was over, and that there was not a -breath of wind in this silent, grey, sombre world of mountain and mist, -and when we went ashore for a walk along the still lake, what must she -needs do but attach herself to the Laird, and take no notice of her -friend of former days? Angus walked behind with his hostess, but he -rarely took his eyes off the people in front. And when Miss Avon, -picking up a wild flower now and again, was puzzling over its name, he -did not, as once he would have done, come to her help with his -student-days' knowledge of botany. Howard Smith brought her a bit of -wall rue, and said he thought they called it _Asplenium marinum_: there -was no interference. The preoccupied Doctor behind only asked how far -Miss Avon was going to walk with her lame foot. - -The Laird of Denny-mains knew nothing of all this occult business. He -was rejoicing in his occupation of philosopher and guide. He was -assuring us all that this looked like a real Highland day--far more so -than the Algerian blue sky that had haunted us for so long. He pointed -out, as we walked along the winding shores of Loch Leven, by the path -that rose, and fell, and skirted small precipices all hanging in -foliage, how beautiful was that calm, slate-blue mirror beneath, showing -every outline of the sombre mountains, with their masses of Landseer -mist. He stopped his companion to ask her if she had ever seen anything -finer in colour than the big clusters of scarlet rowans among the -yellow-green leaves? Did she notice the scent of the meadow-sweet, in -the moist air of this patch of wood? He liked to see those white stars -of the grass-of-Parnassus; they reminded him of many a stroll among the -hills about Loch Katrine. - -"And this still Loch Leven," he said at length, and without the least -blush on his face, "with the Glencoe mountains at the end of it. I have -often heard say was as picturesque a loch as any in Scotland, on a -gloomy day like this. Gloomy I call it, but ye see there are fine -silver glints among the mist; and--and, in fact, there's a friend of -mine has often been wishing to have a water-colour sketch of it. If ye -had time, Miss Mary, to make a bit drawing from the deck of the yacht, -ye might name your own price--just name your own price. I will buy it -for him." - -A friend! Mary Avon knew very well who the friend was. - -"I should be afraid, sir," said she, laughing, "to meddle with anything -about Glencoe." - -"Toots! toots!" said he; "ye have not enough confidence. I know twenty -young men in Edinburgh and Glasgow who have painted every bit of -Glencoe, from the bridge to the King's House inn, and not one of them -able to come near ye. Mind, I'm looking forward to showing your -pictures to Tom Galbraith; I'm thinking he'll stare!" - -The Laird chuckled again. - -"Oh, ay! he does not know what a formidable rival has come from the -south; I'm thinking he'll stare when he comes to Denny-mains to meet ye. -Howard, what's that down there?" - -The Laird had caught sight of a pink flower on the side of a steep -little ravine, leading down to the shore. - -"Oh, I don't want it; I don't want it!" Mary Avon cried. - -But the Laird was obdurate. His nephew had to go scrambling down -through the alders and rowan-trees and wet bracken to get this bit of -pink crane's-bill for Miss Avon's bouquet. And of course she was much -pleased; and thanked him very prettily; and was it catch-fly, or herb -robert, or what was it? - -Then out of sheer common courtesy she had to turn to Angus Sutherland. - -"I am sure Dr. Sutherland can tell us." she says, timidly; and she does -not meet his eyes. - -"It is one of the crane's-bills, any way," he says, indifferently. -"Don't you think you had better return now, Miss Avon, or you will hurt -your foot?" - -"Oh, my foot is quite well now, thank you!" she says; and on she goes -again. - -We pass by the first cuttings of the slate-quarries; the men suspended -by ropes round their waists and hewing away at the face of the cliff. -We go through the long straggling village; and the Laird remarks that it -is not usual for a Celtic race to have such clean cottages, with pots of -flowers in the window. We saunter idly onwards, towards those great -mountain-masses, and there is apparently no thought of returning. - -"When we've gone so far, might we not go on to the mouth of the pass?" -she asks. "I should like to have a look even at the beginning of -Glencoe." - -"I thought so," said the Laird, with a shrewd smile. "Oh, ay! we may as -well go on." - -Past those straggling cottages, with the elder-bush at their doors to -frighten away witches; over the bridge that spans the brawling Cona; -along the valley down which the stream rushes; and this gloom overhead -deepens and deepens. The first of the great mountains appears on our -right, green to the summit, and yet so sheer from top to bottom that it -is difficult to understand how those dots of sheep maintain their -footing. Then the marks on him; he seems to be a huge Behemoth, with -great eyes, grand, complacent, even sardonic in his look. But the -further and further mountains have nothing of this mild, grand humour -about them; they are sullen and awful; they grasp the earth with their -mighty bulk below, but far away they lift their lurid peaks to the -threatening skies, up there where the thunder threatens to shake the -silence of the world. - -"Miss Avon," Dr. Sutherland again remonstrates, "you have come five or -six miles now. Suppose you have to walk back in the rain?" - -"I don't mind about that," she says, cheerfully. "But I am dreadfully, -dreadfully hungry." - -"Then we must push on to Clachaig," says the Laird; "there is no help -for it." - -"But wait a moment," she says. - -She goes to the side of the road, where the great grey boulders, and -ferns, and moist marsh-grass are, and begins to gather handfuls of -"sourocks;" that is to say, of the smaller sheep's sorrel. "Who will -partake of this feast to allay the pangs of hunger?" - -"Is thy servant a baa-lamb that she should do this thing?" her hostess -says, and drives the girl forward. - -The inn is reached but in time; for behold there is a grey "smurr" of -mist coming down the glen; and the rain is beginning to darken the grey -boulders. And very welcome are those chairs, and the bread and cheese -and beer, and the humble efforts in art around the walls. If the feast -is not as the feasting of the Fishmongers--if we have no pretty boxes to -carry home to the children--if we have no glimpses of the pale blue -river and shipping through the orange light of the room, at least we are -not amazed by the appearance of the Duke of Sussex in the garb of a -Highlander. And the frugal meal is substantial enough. Then the -question about getting back arises. - -"Now, Mary," says her hostess, "you have got to pay for your amusement. -How will you like walking seven or eight miles in a thunderstorm?" - -But here the Laird laughs. - -"No, no," he says, going to the window. "That waggonette that has just -come up I ordered at the inn on passing. Ye will not have to walk a -step, my lass; but I think we had better be going, as it looks black -overhead." - -Black enough, indeed, was it as we drove back in this silent afternoon, -with a thunderstorm apparently about to break over our heads. And it -was close and sultry when we got on board again, though there was as yet -no wind. Captain John did not like the look of the sky. - -"I said you were going to bring a gale with you, Angus," his hostess -remarked to him, cheerfully, at dinner. - -"It begins to look like it," he answered, gravely; "and it is getting -too late to run away from here if the wind rises. As soon as it begins -to blow, if I were John, I would put out the starboard anchor." - -"I know he will take your advice," she answers, promptly. - -We saw little of Angus Sutherland that evening; for it was raining hard -and blowing hard; and the cabin below, with its lit candles, and books -and cards, and what not, was cheerful enough; while he seemed very much -to prefer being on deck. We could hear the howling of the wind through -the rigging, and the gurgling of the water along the sides of the yacht; -and we knew by the way she was swaying that she was pulling hard at her -anchor chain. There was to be no beautiful moonlight for us that night, -with the black shadows on the hills, and the lane of silver on the -water. - -A dripping and glistening figure comes down the companion; a gleaming -red face appears at the door. Mary Avon looks up from her draughts, but -for an instant. - -"Well, Angus, what is the report?" says Queen Titania, brightly. "And -what is all the noise on deck? And why don't you come below?" - -"They have been paying out more anchor chain," says the rough voice from -out of the macintosh; "it is likely to be a nasty night, and we are -going to lower the topmast now. I want you to be so kind as to tell Fred -to leave out some whisky and some bread and cheese; for John thinks of -having an anchor watch." - -"The bread and cheese and whisky Fred can get at any time," says she; -and she adds with some warmth, "But you are not going to stay on deck on -such a night? Come in here at once. Leave your macintosh on the -steps." - -Is it that he looks at that draught-board? It is Mr. Howard Smith who is -playing with Mary Avon. The faithless Miranda has got another Ferdinand -now. - -"I think I would rather take my turn like the rest," he says, absently. -"There may be some amusement before the morning." - -And so the black figure turned away and disappeared; and a strange thing -was that the girl playing draughts seemed to have been so bewildered by -the apparition that she stared at the board, and could not be got to -understand how she had made a gross and gigantic blunder. - -"Oh, yes; oh, certainly!" she said, hurriedly; but she did not know how -to retrieve her obvious mistake. - - - - - *CHAPTER XI.* - - *AN UNSPOKEN APPEAL.* - - -"What have I done? Is she vexed? Have I offended her?" he asked the -next morning, in a rapid manner, when his hostess came on deck. The -gale had abated somewhat, but gloom overspread earth and sky. It was -nothing to the gloom that overspread his usually frank and cheerful -face. - -"You mean Mary?" she says, though she knows well enough. - -"Yes; haven't you seen? She seems to treat me as though we had never -met before--as though we were perfect strangers--and I know she is too -kind-hearted to cause any one pain----" - -Here he looks somewhat embarrassed for a moment; but his customary -straightforwardness comes to his rescue. - -"Yes; I will confess I am very much hurt by it. And--and I should like -to know if there is any cause. Surely you must have noticed it?" - -She had noticed it, sure enough; and, in contrast with that studied -coldness which Mary Avon had shown to her friend of former days, she had -remarked the exceeding friendliness the young lady was extending to the -Laird's nephew. But would she draw the obvious conclusion? Not likely; -she was too staunch a friend to believe any such thing. All the same -there remained in her mind a vague feeling of surprise, with perhaps a -touch of personal injury. - -"Well, Angus, you know," she said, evasively; "Mary is very much -preoccupied just at present. Her whole condition of life is changed, -and she has many things to think of----" - -"Yes; but she is frank enough with her other friends. What have I done, -that I should be made a stranger of?" - -A pathetic answer comes to these idle frettings of the hour. Far away -on the shore a number of small black figures emerge from the woods, and -slowly pass along the winding road that skirts the rocks. They are -following a cart--a common farmyard cart; but on the wooden planks is -placed a dark object that is touched here and there with silver--or -perhaps it is only the white cords. Between the overhanging gloom of -the mountains and the cold greys of the wind-swept sea the small black -line passes slowly on. And these two on board the yacht watch it in -silence. Are they listening for the wail of the pipes--the wild dirge -of Lord Lovat, or the cry of the _Cumhadh na Cloinne_? But the winds -are loud, and the rushing seas are loud; and now the rude farmyard cart, -with its solemn burden, is away out at the point; and presently the -whole simple pageant has disappeared. The lonely burying-ground lies far -away among the hills. - -Angus Sutherland turns round again, with a brief sigh. - -"It will be all the same in a few years," he says to his hostess; and -then he adds, indifferently, "What do you say about starting? The wind -is against us; but anything is better than lying here. There were some -bad squalls in the night." - -Very soon after this the silent loch is resounding with the rattle of -halyards, blocks, and chains; and Angus Sutherland is seeking -distraction from those secret cares of the moment in the excitement of -hard work. Nor is it any joke getting in that enormous quantity of -anchor chain. In the midst of all the noise and bustle Mary Avon -appears on deck to see what is going on, and she is immediately followed -by young Smith. - -"Why don't you help them?" she says, laughing. - -"So I would, if I knew what to do," he says, good-naturedly. "I'll go -and ask Dr. Sutherland." - -It was a fatal step. Angus Sutherland suggested, somewhat grimly, that, -if he liked, he might lend them a hand at the windlass. A muscular young -Englishman does not like to give in; and for a time he held his own with -the best of them; but long before the starboard anchor had been got up, -and the port one hove short, he had had enough of it. He did not -volunteer to assist at the throat halyards. To Miss Avon, who was -calmly looking on, he observed that it would take him about a fortnight -to get his back straight. - -"That," said she, finding an excuse for him instantly, "is because you -worked too hard at it at first. You should have watched the Islay man. -All he does is to call 'Heave!' and to make his shoulders go up as if he -were going to do the whole thing himself. But he does not help a bit. -I have watched him again and again." - -"Your friend, Dr. Sutherland," said he, regarding her for an instant as -he spoke, "seems to work as hard as any of them." - -"He is very fond of it," she said, simply, without any embarrassment; -nor did she appear to regard it as singular that Angus Sutherland should -have been spoken of specially as her friend. - -Angus Sutherland himself comes rapidly aft, loosens the tiller rope, and -jams the helm over. And now the anchor is hove right up; the reefed -mainsail and small jib quickly fill out before this fresh breeze; and, -presently, with a sudden cessation of noise, we are spinning away -through the leaden-coloured waters. We are not sorry to get away from -under the gloom of these giant hills; for the day still looks squally, -and occasionally a scud of rain comes whipping across, scarcely -sufficient to wet the decks. And there is more life and animation on -board now; a good deal of walking up and down in ulsters, with -inevitable collisions; and of remarks shouted against, or with, the -wind; and of joyful pointing towards certain silver gleams of light in -the west and south. There is hope in front; behind us nothing but -darkness and the threatenings of storm. The Pap of Glencoe has -disappeared in rain; the huge mountains on the right are as black as the -deeds of murder done in the glen below; Ardgour over there, and Lochaber -here, are steeped in gloom. And there is less sadness now in the old -refrain of Lochaber since there is a prospect of the South shining -before us. If Mary Avon is singing to herself about - - _Lochaber no more! And Lochaber no more!_ - _We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more!_ - ---it is with a light heart. - -But then if it is a fine thing to go bowling along with a brisk breeze -on our beam, it is very different when we get round Ardshiel and find -the southerly wind veering to meet us dead in the teeth. And there is a -good sea running up Loch Linnhe--a heavy grey-green sea that the _White -Dove_ meets and breaks, with spurts of spray forward, and a line of -hissing foam in our wake. The zig-zag beating takes us alternately to -Ardgour and Appin, until we can see here and there the cheerful patches -of yellow corn at the foot of the giant and gloomy hills; then "'Bout -ship" again, and away we go on the heaving and rushing grey-green sea. - -And is Mary Avon's oldest friend--the woman who is the staunchest of -champions--being at last driven to look askance at the girl? Is it fair -that the young lady should be so studiously silent when our faithful -Doctor is by, and instantly begin to talk again when he goes forward to -help at the jib or foresail sheets? And when he asks her, as in former -days, to take the tiller, she somewhat coldly declines the offer he has -so timidly and respectfully made. But as for Mr. Smith, that is a very -different matter. It is he whom she allows to go below for some wrapper -for her neck. It is he who stands by, ready to shove over the top of -the companion when she crouches to avoid a passing shower of rain. It -is he with whom she jokes and talks--when the Laird does not monopolise -her. - -"I would have believed it of any girl in the world rather than of her," -says her hostess, to another person, when these two happen to be alone -in the saloon below. "I don't believe it yet. It is impossible. Of -course a girl who is left as penniless as she is might be pardoned for -looking round and being friendly with rich people who are well inclined -towards her; but I don't believe--I say it is impossible--that she -should have thrown Angus over just because she saw a chance of marrying -the Laird's nephew. Why, there never was a girl we have ever known so -independent as she is!--not any one half as proud and as fearless. She -looks upon going to London and earning her own living as nothing at all! -She is the very last girl in the world to speculate on making a good -match--she has too much pride--she would not speak another word to -Howard Smith if such a monstrous thing were suggested to her." - -"Very well," says the meek listener. The possibility was not of his -suggesting, assuredly: he knows better. - -Then the Admiral-in-chief of the _White Dove_ sits silent and puzzled -for a time. - -"And yet her treatment of poor Angus is most unfair. He is deeply hurt -by it--he told me so this morning----" - -"If he is so fearfully sensitive that he cannot go yachting and enjoy -his holiday because a girl does not pay him attention----" - -"Why, what do you suppose he came back here for?" she says, warmly. "To -go sailing in the _White Dove_? No; not if twenty _White Doves_ were -waiting for him! He knows too well the value of his time to stay away -so long from London if it were merely to take the tiller of a yacht. He -came back here, at great personal sacrifice, because Mary was on board." - -"Has he told you so?" - -"He has not; but one has eyes." - -"Then suppose she has changed her mind: how can you help it?" - -She says nothing for a second. She is preparing the table for Master -Fred: perhaps she tosses the novels on to the couch with an impatience -they do not at all deserve. But at length she says-- - -"Well; I never thought Mary would have been so fickle as to go chopping -and changing about within the course of a few weeks. However, I won't -accuse her of being mercenary; I will not believe that. Howard Smith is -a most gentlemanly young man--good-looking, too, and pleasant tempered. -I can imagine any girl liking him." - -Here a volume of poems is pitched on to the top of the draught-board, as -if it had done her some personal injury. - -"And in any case she might be more civil to one who is a very old friend -of ours," she adds. - -Further discourse on this matter is impossible; for our Freidrich d'or -comes in to prepare for luncheon. But why the charge of incivility? -When we are once more assembled together, the girl is quite the reverse -of uncivil towards him. She shows him--when she is forced to speak to -him--an almost painful courtesy; and she turns her eyes down, as if she -were afraid to speak to him. This is no flaunting coquette, proud of -her wilful caprice. - -And as for poor Angus, he does his best to propitiate her. They begin -talking about the picturesqueness of various cities. Knowing that Miss -Avon has lived the most of her life, if she was not actually born, in -London, he strikes boldly for London. What is there in Venice, what is -there in the world, like London in moonlight--with the splendid sweep of -her river--and the long lines of gas-lamps--and the noble bridges? But -she is all for Edinburgh if Edinburgh had but the Moldau running through -that valley, and the bridges of Prague to span it, what city in Europe -could compare with it? And the Laird is so delighted with her approval -of the Scotch capital, that he forgets for the moment his Glaswegian -antipathy to the rival city, and enlarges no less on the picturesqueness -of it than on its wealth of historical traditions. There is not a stain -of blood on any floor that he does not believe in. Then the Sanctuary -of Holyrood: what stories has he not to tell about that famous refuse? - -"I believe the mysterious influence of that Sanctuary has gone out and -charmed all the country about Edinburgh," said our young Doctor. "I -suppose you know that there are several plants, poisonous elsewhere, -that are quite harmless in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh. You remember -I told you, Miss Avon, that evening we went out to Arthur's Seat?" - -It was well done, Queen Titania must have thought, to expose this -graceless flirt before her new friends. So she had been walking out to -Arthur's Seat with him, in the summer afternoons? - -"Y--yes," says the girl. - -"Ay; that is a most curious thing," says the Laird, not noticing her -downcast looks and flushed cheeks. "But what were they, did ye say?" - -"Umbelliferous plants," replies Angus Sutherland, in quite a -matter-of-fact manner. "The _OEnanthe crocata_ is one of them, I -remember; and I think the _Cicuta virosa_--that is, the Water Hemlock." - -"I would jist like to know," says the Laird, somewhat pompously, -"whether that does not hold good about the neighbourhood of Glesca also. -There's nothing so particular healthy about the climate of Edinburgh, as -far as ever I heard tell of. Quite the reverse--quite the reverse. -East winds--fogs--no wonder the people are shilpit-looking creatures as -a general rule--like a lot o' Paisley weavers. But the ceety is a fine -ceety, I will admit that; and many's the time I've said to Tom Galbraith -that he could get no finer thing to paint than the view of the High -Street at night from Prince's Street--especially on a moonlight night. -A fine ceety: but the people themselves!--" here the Laird shook his -head. "And their manner o' speech is most vexsome--a long, sing-song -kind o' yaumering as if they had not sufficient manliness to say -outright what they meant. If we are to have a Scotch accent, I prefer -the accent--the very slight accent--ye hear about Glesca. I would like -to hear what Miss Avon has to say upon that point." - -"I am not a very good judge, sir," says Miss Avon, prudently. - -Then on deck. The leaden-black waves are breaking in white foam along -the shores of Kingairloch and the opposite rocks of Eilean-na-Shuna; and -we are still laboriously beating against the southerly wind; but those -silver-yellow gleams in the south have increased, over the softly-purple -hills of Morvern and Duart. Black as night are the vast ranges of -mountains in the north; but they are far behind us; we have now no -longer any fear of a white shaft of lightning falling from the gloom -overhead. - -The decks are dry now; camp-stools are in requisition; there is to be a -consultation about our future plans, after the _White Dove_ has been -beached for a couple of days. The Laird admits that, if it had been -three days or four days, he would like to run through to Glasgow and to -Strathgovan, just to see how they are getting on with the gas-lamps in -the Mitherdrum Road; but, as it is, he will write for a detailed report; -hence he is free to go wherever we wish. Miss Avon, interrogated, -answers that she thinks she must leave us and set out for London; -whereupon she is bidden to hold her tongue and not talk foolishness. -Our Doctor, also interrogated, looks down on the sitting parliament--he -is standing at the tiller--and laughs. - -"Don't be too sure of getting to Castle Osprey to-night," he says, -"whatever your plans may be. The breeze is falling off a bit. But you -may put me down as willing to go anywhere with you, if you will let me -come." - -This decision seemed greatly to delight his hostess. She said we could -not do without him. She was herself ready to go anywhere now; she -eagerly embraced the Youth's suggestion that there were, according to -John of Skye's account, vast numbers of seals in the bays on the western -shores of Knapdale; and at once assured the Laird, who said he -particularly wanted a sealskin or two and some skarts' feathers for a -young lady, that he should not be disappointed. Knapdale, then, it was -to be. - -But in the meantime? Dinner found us in a dead calm. After dinner, -when we came on deck, the sun had gone down; and in the pale, tender -blue-grey of the twilight, the golden star of Lismore lighthouse was -already shining. Then we had our warning lights put up--the port red -light shedding a soft crimson glow on the bow of the dingay, the -starboard green light touching with a cold, wan colour the iron shrouds. -To crown all, as we were watching the dark shadows of Lismore island, a -thin, white, vivid line--like the edge of a shilling--appeared over the -low hill; and then the full moon rose into the partially clouded sky. -It was a beautiful night. - -But we gave up all hope of reaching Castle Osprey. The breeze had quite -gone; the calm sea slowly rolled. We went below--to books, draughts, -and what not; Angus Sutherland alone remaining on deck, having his pipe -for his companion. - -It was about an hour afterwards that we were startled by sounds on deck; -and presently we knew that the _White Dove_ was again flying through the -water. The women took some little time to get their shawls and things -ready; had they known what was awaiting them, they would have been more -alert. - -For no sooner were we on deck than we perceived that the _White Dove_ -was tearing through the water without the slightest landmark or light to -guide her. The breeze that had sprung up had swept before it a bank of -sea-fog--a most unusual thing in these windy and changeable latitudes; -and so dense was this fog that the land on all sides of us had -disappeared, while it was quite impossible to say where Lismore -light-house was. Angus Sutherland had promptly surrendered the helm to -John of Skye; and had gone forward. The men on the look out at the bow -were themselves invisible. - -"Oh, it is all right, mem!" called out John of Skye, through the dense -fog, in answer to a question. "I know the lay o' the land very well, -though I do not see it. And I will keep her down to Duart, bekass of -the tide." - -And then he calls out-- - -"Hector, do you not see any land yet?' - -"_Cha n'eil!_" answers Hector, in his native tongue. - -"We'll put a tack on her now. Ready about, boys!" - -"_Ready about!_" - -Round slews her head, with blocks and sails clattering and flapping; -there is a scuffle of making fast the lee sheets; then once more the -_White Dove_ goes plunging into the unknown. The non-experts see -nothing at all but the fog; they have not the least idea whether Lismore -lighthouse--which is a solid object to run against--is on port or -starboard bow, or right astern, for the matter of that. They are huddled -in a group about the top of the companion. They can only listen, and -wait. - -John of Skye's voice rings out again. - -"Hector, can you not mek out the land yet?" - -"_Cha n'eil!_" - -"What does he say?" the Laird asks, almost in a whisper: he is afraid to -distract attention at such a time. - -"He says 'No,'" Angus Sutherland answers. "He cannot make out the land. -It is very thick; and there are bad rocks between Lismore and Duart. I -think I will climb up to the cross-trees and have a look round." - -What was this? A girl's hand laid for an instant on his arm; a girl's -voice--low, quick, beseeching--saying "Oh, no!" - -It was the trifle of a moment. - -"There is not the least danger," says he, lightly. "Sometimes you can -see better at the cross-trees." - -Then the dim figure is seen going up the shrouds; but he is not quite up -at the cross-trees, when the voice of John of Skye is heard again. - -"Mr. Sutherland! - -"All right, John!" and the dusky figure comes stumbling down and across -the loose sheets on deck. - -"If ye please, sir," says John of Skye; and the well-known formula means -that Angus Sutherland is to take the helm. Captain John goes forward to -the bow: the only sound around us is the surging of the unseen waves. - -"I hope you are not frightened, Miss Avon," says Mr. Smith, quite -cheerfully; though he is probably listening, like the rest of us, for -the sullen roaring of breakers in the dark. - -"No--I am bewildered--I don't know what it is all about." - -"You need not be afraid," Angus Sutherland says to her, abruptly, for he -will not have the Youth interfere in such matters, "with Captain John on -board. He sees better in a fog than most men in daylight." - -"We are in the safe keeping of one greater than any Captain John," says -the Laird, simply and gravely: he is not in any alarm. - -Then a call from the bow. - -"Helm hard down, sir!" - -"Hard down it is, John!" - -Then the rattle again of sheets and sails; and as she swings round again -on the other tack, what is that vague, impalpable shadow one sees--or -fancies one sees--on the starboard bow? - -"Is that the land, John?" Angus Sutherland asks, as the skipper comes -aft. - -"Oh, ay!" says he, with a chuckle. "I was thinking to myself it wass -the loom of Duart I sah once or twice. And I wass saying to Hector if -it wass his sweetheart he will look, for he will see better in the -night." - -Then by and by this other object, to which all attention is summoned: -the fog grows thinner and thinner; some one catches sight of a pale, -glimmering light on our port quarter; and we know that we have left -Lismore lighthouse in our wake. And still the fog grows thinner, until -it is suffused with a pale blue radiance; then suddenly we sail out into -the beautiful moonlight, with the hills along the horizon all black -under the clear and solemn skies. - -It is a pleasant sail into the smooth harbour on this enchanted night: -the far windows of Castle Osprey are all aglow; the mariners are to rest -for a while from the travail of the sea. And as we go up the moonlit -road, the Laird is jocular enough; and asks Mary Avon, who is his -companion, whether she was prepared to sing "Lochaber no more!" when we -were going blindly through the mist. But our young Doctor remembers -that hour or so of mist for another reason. There was something in the -sound of the girl's voice he cannot forget. The touch of her hand was -slight; but his arm has not even yet parted with the thrill of it. - - - - - *CHAPTER XII.* - - *HIS LORDSHIP.* - - -Miss Avon is seated in the garden in front of Castle Osprey, under the -shade of a drooping ash. Her book lies neglected beside her, on the -iron seat; she is idly looking abroad on the sea and the mountains, now -all aglow in the warm light of the afternoon. - -There is a clanging of a gate below. Presently, up the steep gravel -path, comes a tall and handsome young fellow, in full shooting -accoutrement, with his gun over his shoulder. Her face instantly loses -its dreamy expression. She welcomes him with a cheerful "Good evening!" -and asks what sport he has had. For answer he comes across the -greensward; places his gun against the trunk of the ash; takes a seat -beside her; and puts his hands round one knee. - -"It is a long story," says the Youth. "Will it bore you to hear it? -I've seen how the women in a country house dread the beginning of the -talk at dinner about the day's shooting; and yet give themselves up, -like the martyrs and angels they are; and--and it is very different from -hunting, don't you know, for there the women can talk as much as -anybody." - -"Oh! but I should like to hear, really," says she. "It was so kind of -a stranger on board a steamer to offer you a day's shooting." - -"Well, it was," says he; "and the place has been shot over only once--on -the 12th. Very well; you shall hear the whole story. I met the keeper -by appointment, down at the quay. I don't know what sort of a fellow he -is--Highlander or Lowlander--I am not such a swell at those things as my -uncle is; but I should have said he talked a most promising mixture of -Devonshire, Yorkshire, and Westmoreland----" - -"What was his name?" - -"I don't know," says the other leisurely. "I called him Donald, on -chance; and he took to it well enough. I confess I thought it rather -odd he had only one dog with him--an old retriever; but then, don't you -know, the moor had been shot over only once; and I thought we might get -along. As we walked along to the hill, Donald says, 'Dinna tha mind, -sir, if a blackcock gets up; knock un ower, knock un ower, sir.'" - -At this point Miss Avon most unfairly bursts out laughing. - -"Why," she says, "what sort of countryman was he if he talked like that? -That is how they speak in plays about the colliery districts." - -"Oh, it's all the same!" says the young man, quite unabashed. "I gave -him my bag to carry, and put eight or ten cartridges in my pockets. 'A -few mower, sir; a few mower, sir,' says Donald; and crams my pockets -full. Then he would have me put cartridges in my gun even before we left -the road; and as soon as we began to ascend the hill I saw he was on the -outlook for a straggler or two, or perhaps a hare. But he warned me -that the shooting had been very bad in these districts this year; and -that on the 12th the rain was so persistent that scarcely anybody went -out. Where could we have been on the 12th? surely there was no such rain -with us?" - -"But when you are away from the hills you miss the rain," remarks this -profound meteorologist. - -"Ah! perhaps so. However, Donald said, 'His lordship went hout for an -hour, and got a brace and a alf. His lordship is no keen for a big bag, -ye ken; but is just satisfied if he can get a brace or a couple of brace -afore luncheon. It is the exerceez he likes.' I then discovered that -Lord ---- had had this moor as part of his shooting last year; and I -assured Donald I did not hunger after slaughter. So we climbed higher -and higher. I found Donald a most instructive companion. He was very -great on the ownership of the land about here; and the old families, -don't you know; and all that kind of thine. I heard a lot about the -MacDougalls, and how they had all their possessions confiscated in 1745; -and how, when the Government pardoned them, and ordered the land to be -restored, the Campbells and Breadalbane, into whose hands it had fallen, -kept all the best bits for themselves. I asked Donald why they did not -complain; he only grinned; I suppose they were afraid to make a row. -Then there was one MacDougall, an admiral or captain, don't you know; -and he sent a boat to rescue some shipwrecked men, and the boat was -swamped. Then he would send another; and that was swamped, too. The -Government, Donald informed me, wanted to hang him for his philanthropy; -but he had influential friends; and he was let off on the payment of a -large sum of money--I suppose out of what Argyll and Breadalbane had -left him." - -The Youth calmly shifted his hands to the other knee. - -"You see, Miss Avon, this was all very interesting; but I had to ask -Donald where the birds were. 'I'll let loose the doag now,' says he. -Well; he did so. You would have thought he had let loose a sky-rocket! -It was off and away--up hill and down dale--and all his whistling wasn't -of the slightest use. 'He's a bit wild,' Donald had to admit; 'but if I -had kent you were agoin' shootin' earlier in the morning, I would have -given him a run or two to take the freshness hoff. But on a day like -this, sir, there's no scent; we will just have to walk them up; they'll -lie as close as a water-hen.' So we left the dog to look after himself; -and on we pounded. Do you see that long ridge of rugged hill?" - -He pointed to the coast-line beyond the bay. - -"Yes." - -"We had to climb that, to start with; and not even a glimpse of a rabbit -all the way up. ''Ave a care, sir,' says Donald; and I took down my gun -from my shoulder, expecting to walk into a whole covey at least. 'His -lordship shot a brace and a alf of grouse on this wery knoll the last -day he shot over the moor last year.' And now there was less talking, -don't you know; and we went cautiously through the heather, working -every bit of it, until we got right to the end of the knoll. 'It's fine -heather,' says Donald; 'bees would dae well here.' On we went; and -Donald's information began again. He pointed out a house on some -distant island where Alexander III. was buried. 'But where are the -birds?' I asked of him, at last. 'Oh,' says he, 'his lordship was never -greedy after the shootin'! A brace or two afore luncheon was all he -wanted. He baint none o' your greedy ones, he baint. His lordship shot -a hare on this very side last year--a fine long shot.' We went on -again: you know what sort of morning it was, Miss Avon?" - -"It was hot enough even in the shelter of the trees." - -"Up there it was dreadful: not a breath of wind: the sun blistering. -And still we ploughed through that knee-deep heather, with the retriever -sometimes coming within a mile of us; and Donald back to his old -families. It was the MacDonnells now; he said they had no right to that -name; their proper name was MacAlister--Mack Mick Alister, I think he -said. 'But where the dickens are the birds?' I asked. 'If we get a -brace afore luncheon, we'll do fine,' said he; and then he added, -'There's a braw cold well down there that his lordship aye stopped at.' -The hint was enough; we had our dram. Then we went on, and on, and on, -and on, until I struck work, and sat down, and waited for the luncheon -basket." - -"We were so afraid Fred would be late," she said; "the men were all so -busy down at the yacht." - -"What did it matter?" the Youth said, resignedly. "I was being -instructed. He had got further back still now, to the Druids, don't you -know, and the antiquity of the Gaelic language. 'What was the river -that ran by Rome?' 'The Tiber,' I said. 'And what,' he asked, 'was -_Tober_ in Gaelic but a spring or fountain?' And the Tamar in -Devonshire was the same thing. And the various Usks--_uska_, it seems, -is the Gaelic for water. Well, I'm hanged if I know what that man did -_not_ talk about!" - -"But surely such a keeper must be invaluable," remarked the young lady, -innocently. - -"Perhaps. I confess I got a little bit tired of it; but no doubt the -poor fellow was doing his best to make up for the want of birds. -However, we started again after luncheon. And now we came to place -after place where his lordship had performed the most wonderful feats -last year. And, mind you, the dog wasn't ranging so wild now; if there -had been the ghost of a shadow of a feather in the whole district we -must have seen it. Then we came to another well where his lordship used -to stop for a drink. Then we arrived at a crest where no one who had -ever shot on the moor had ever failed to get a brace or two. A brace or -two! What we flushed was a covey of sheep that flew like mad things -down the hill. Well, Donald gave in at last. He could not find words -to express his astonishment. His lordship had never come along that -highest ridge without getting at least two or three shots. And when I -set out for home, he still stuck to it; he would not let me take the -cartridges out of my gun; he assured me his lordship never failed to get -a snipe or a blackcock on the way home. Confound his lordship!" - -"And is that all the story?" says the young lady, with her eyes wide -open. - -"Yes, it is," says he, with a tragic gloom on the handsome face. - -"You have not brought home a single bird?" - -"Not a feather!--never saw one." - -"Nor even a rabbit?' - -"Nary rabbit!" - -"Why, Fred was up here a short time ago, wanting a few birds for the -yacht." - -"Oh, indeed," says he, with a sombre contempt. "Perhaps he will go and -ask his lordship for them. In the meantime, I'm going in to dress for -dinner. I suppose his lordship would do that, too, after having shot -his thirty brace." - -"You must not, any way," she says. "There is to be no dressing for -dinner to-day; we are all going down to the yacht after." - -"At all events," he says, "I must get my shooting things off. Much good -I've done with 'em!" - -So he goes into the house, and leaves her alone. But this chat together -seems to have brightened her up somewhat; and with a careless and -cheerful air she goes over to the flower borders and begins culling an -assortment of various-hued blossoms. The evening is becoming cooler; -she is not so much afraid of the sun's glare; it is a pleasant task; and -she is singing, or humming, snatches of songs of the most heterogeneous -character. - - _Then fill up a bumper!--what can I do less_ - _Than drink to the health of my bonny Black Bess!_ - ---this is the point at which she has arrived when she suddenly becomes -silent, and for a second her face is suffused with a conscious colour. -It is our young Doctor who has appeared on the gravel path. She does -not rise from her stooping position; but she hurries with her work. - -"You are going to decorate the dinner-table, I suppose?" he says, -somewhat timidly. - -"Yes," she answers, without raising her head. The fingers work nimbly -enough: why so much hurry? - -"You will take some down to the yacht, too?" he says. "Everything is -quite ready now for the start to-morrow." - -"Oh, yes!" she says. "And I think I have enough now for the table. I -must go in." - -"Miss Avon," he says; and she stops--with her eyes downcast. "I wanted -to say a word to you. You have once or twice spoken about going away. -I wanted to ask you--you won't think it is any rudeness. But if the -reason was--if it was the presence of any one that was distasteful to -you----" - -"Oh, I hope no one will think that!" she answers, quickly; and for one -second the soft, black, pathetic eyes meet his. "I am very happy to be -amongst such good friends--too happy, I think--I, I must think of other -things----" - -And here she seems to force this embarrassment away from her; and she -says to him, with quite a pleasant air-- - -"I am so glad to hear that the _White Dove_ will sail so much better -now. It must be so much more pleasant for you, when you understand all -about it." - -And then she goes into the house to put the flowers on the table. He, -left alone, goes over to the iron seat beneath the ash tree; and takes -up the book she has been reading, and bends his eyes on the page. It is -not the book he is thinking about. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIII.* - - *THE LAIRD'S PLANS.* - - -Who is first up to thrust aside those delusive yellow blinds that -suggest sunshine whether the morning be fair or foul? But the first -glance through the panes removes all apprehensions: the ruffled bay, the -fluttering ensign, the shining white wings of the _White Dove_ are all a -summons to the slumbering house. And the mistress of Castle Osprey, as -soon as she is dressed, is up stairs and down stairs like a furred flash -of lightning. Her cry and potent command--a reminiscence of certain -transatlantic experiences--is, "_All aboard for Dan'ls!_" She will not -have so fine a sailing morning wasted, especially when Dr. Angus -Sutherland is with us. - -Strangely enough, when at last we stand on the white decks, and look -round on the shining brass and varnished wood, and help to stow away the -various articles needed for our cruise, he is the least excited of all -those chattering people. There is a certain conscious elation on -starting on a voyage, especially on a beautiful morning; but there also -may be some vague and dim apprehension. The beginning is here; but the -end? Angus walked about with Captain John, and was shown all that had -been done to the yacht, and listened in silence. - -But the rest were noisy enough, calling for this and that, handing -things down the companion, and generally getting in the way of the -steward. - -"Well, Fred," says our facetious Laird, "have ye hung up all the game -that Mr. Smith brought back from the moor yesterday?" and Master Fred -was so much tickled by this profound joke that he had to go down into -the forecastle to hide his grinning delight, and went covertly smiling -about his work for the next quarter of an hour. - -Then the hubbub gradually ceased; for the boats had been swung to the -davits, and the _White Dove_ was gently slipping away from her moorings. -A fine northerly breeze; a ruffled blue sea; and the south all shining -before her! How should we care whither the beautiful bird bore us? -Perhaps before the night fell we should be listening for the singing of -the mermaid of Colonsay. - -The wooded shores slowly drew away; the horizon widened; there was no -still blue, but a fine windy grey, on the vast plain of the sea that was -opening out before us. - -"Oh, yes, mem!" says John of Skye to Miss Avon. "I wass sure we would -get a good breeze for Mr. Sutherland when he will come back to the yat." - -Miss Avon does not answer: she is looking at the wide sea, and at the -far islands, with somewhat wistful eyes. - -"Would you like to tek the tiller, now, mem?" says the bearded skipper, -in his most courteous tones. "Mr. Sutherland was aye very proud to see -ye at the tiller." - -"No, thank you, John," she says. - -And then she becomes aware that she has--in her absent mood---spoken -somewhat curtly; so she turns and comes over to him, and says in a -confidential way-- - -"To tell you the truth, John, I never feel very safe in steering when -the yacht is going before the wind. When she is close-hauled I have -something to guide me; but with the wind coming behind I know I may make -a blunder without knowing why." - -"No, no, mem; you must not let Mr. Sutherland hear you say that: when he -was so prood o' learnin' ye; and there is no dancher at ahl of your -making a plunder." - -But at this moment our young Doctor himself comes on deck; and she -quickly moves away to her camp-stool, and plunges herself into a book; -while the attentive Mr. Smith provides her with a sunshade and a -footstool. Dr. Sutherland cannot, of course, interfere with her diligent -studies. - -Meanwhile our hostess is below, putting a few finishing touches to the -decoration of the saloon; while the Laird, in the blue-cushioned recess -at the head of the table, is poring over _Municipal London_. At length -he raises his eyes, and says to his sole companion-- - -"I told ye, ma'am, he was a good lad--a biddable lad--did I not?" - -"You are speaking of your nephew, of course," she says. "Well; it is -very kind of him to offer to turn out of his state-room in favour of Dr. -Sutherland; but there is really no need for it. Angus is much better -accustomed to roughing it on board a yacht." - -"I beg your pardon, ma'am," says the Laird, with judicial gravity. -"Howard is in the right there too. He must insist on it. Dr. -Sutherland is your oldest friend. Howard is here on a kind of -sufferance. I am sure we are both of us greatly obliged to ye." - -Here there was the usual deprecation. - -"And I will say," observes the Laird, with the same profound air, "that -his conduct since I sent for him has entirely my approval--entirely my -approval. Ye know what I mean. I would not say a word to him for the -world--no, no--after the first intimation of my wishes, no coercion. -Every one for himself: no coercion." - -She does not seem so overjoyed as might have been expected. - -"Oh, of course not!" she says. "It is only in plays and books that -anybody is forced into a marriage; at least you don't often find a man -driven to marry anybody against his will. And indeed, sir," she adds, -with a faint smile, "you rather frightened your nephew at first. He -thought you were going to play the part of a stage guardian, and -disinherit him if he did not marry the young lady. But I took the -liberty of saying to him that you could not possibly be so unreasonable. -Because, you know, if Mary refused to marry him, how could that be any -fault of his?" - -"Precisely so," said the Laird, in his grand manner. "A most judeecious -and sensible remark. Let him do his part, and I am satisfied. I would -not exact impossibeelities from any one, much less from one that I have -a particular regard for. And, as I was saying, Howard is a good lad." - -The Laird adopted a lighter tone. - -"Have ye observed, ma'am, that things are not at all unlikely to turn -out as we wished?" he said, in a half-whisper; and there was a secret -triumph in his look. "Have ye observed? Oh, yes! young folks are very -shy; but their elders are not blind. Did ye ever see two young people -that seemed to get on better together on so short an acquaintance?" - -"Oh, yes!" she says, rather gloomily; "they seem to be very good -friends." - -"Yachting is a famous thing for making people acquainted," says the -Laird, with increasing delight. "They know one another now as well as -though they had been friends for years on the land. Has that struck ye -now before?" - -"Oh, yes!" she says. There is no delight on _her_ face. - -"It will jist be the happiness of my old age, if the Lord spares me, to -see these two established at Denny-mains," says he, as if he were -looking at the picture before his very eyes. "And we have a fine soft -air in the west of Scotland; it's no like asking a young English leddy -to live in the bleaker parts of the north, or among the east winds of -Edinburgh. And I would not have the children sent to any public school, -to learn vulgar ways of speech and clipping of words. No, no; I would -wale out a young man from our Glasgow University--one familiar with the -proper tradeetions of the English language; and he will guard against -the clipping fashion of the South, just as against the yaumering of the -Edinburgh bodies. Ah will wale him out maself. But no too much -education: no, no; that is the worst gift ye can bestow upon bairns. A -sound constitution; that is first and foremost. I would rather see a -lad out and about shooting rabbits than shut up wi' a pale face among a -lot of books. And the boys will have their play, I can assure ye; I -will send that fellow Andrew about his business if he doesna stop -netting and snaring. What do I care about the snipping at the shrubs? I -will put out turnips on the verra lawn, jist to see the rabbits run -about in the morning. The boys shall have their play at Denny-mains, I -can assure ye; more play than school-hours, or I'm mistaken!" - -The Laird laughed to himself just as if he had been telling a good one -about Homesh. - -"And no muzzle-loaders," he continued, with a sudden seriousness. "Not -a muzzle-loader will I have put into their hands. Many's the time it -makes me grue to think of my loading a muzzle-loader when I was a -boy--loading one barrel, with the other barrel on full-cock, and jist -gaping to blow my fingers off. I'm thinking Miss Mary--though she'll no -be Miss Mary then--will be sore put to when the boys bring in thrushes -and blackbirds they have shot; for she's a sensitive bit thing; but what -I say is, better let them shoot thrushes and blackbirds than bring them -up to have white faces ower books. Ah tell ye this: I'll give them a -sovereign a-piece for every blackbird they shoot on the wing!" - -The Laird had got quite excited; he did not notice that _Municipal -London_ was dangerously near the edge of the table. - -"Andrew will not objeck to the shooting o' blackbirds," he said, with a -loud laugh--as if there was something of Homesh's vein in that gardener. -"The poor crayture is just daft about his cherries. That's another -thing; no interference with bairns in a garden. Let them steal what -they like. Green apples? bless ye, they're the life o' children! -Nature puts everything to rights. She kens better than books. If I -catched the schoolmaster lockin' up they boys in their play-hours, my -word but I'd send him fleein'!" - -He was most indignant with this school-master, although he was to be of -his own "waling." He was determined that the lads should have their -play, lessons or no lessons. Green apples he preferred to Greek. The -dominie would have to look out. - -"Do you think, ma'am," he says, in an insidious manner; "do ye think she -would like to have a furnished house in London for pairt of the year? -She might have her friends to see----" - -Now at last this is too much. The gentle, small creature has been -listening with a fine, proud, hurt air on her face, and with tears near -to her eyes. Is it thus that her Scotch student, of whom she is the -fierce champion, is to be thrust aside? - -"Why," she says, with an indignant warmth; "you take it all for granted! -I thought it was a joke. Do you really think your nephew is going to -marry Mary? And Angus Sutherland in love with her!" - -"God bless me!" exclaimed the Laird, with such a start that the bulky -_Municipal London_ banged down on the cabin floor. - -Was it the picking up of that huge tome, or the consciousness that he -had been betrayed into an unusual ejaculation, that crimsoned the -Laird's face? When he sate upright again, however, wonder was the chief -expression visible in his eyes. - -"Of course I have no right to say so," she instantly and hurriedly adds: -"it is only a guess--a suspicion. But haven't you seen it? And until -quite recently I had other suspicions, too. Why, what do you think -would induce a man in Angus Sutherland's position to spend such a long -time in idleness?" - -But by this time the Laird had recovered his equanimity. He was not to -be disturbed by any bogie. He smiled serenely. - -"We will see, ma'am; we will see. If it is so with the young man, it is -a peety. But you must admit yourself that ye see how things are likely -to turn out?" - -"I don't know," she said, with reluctance: she would not admit that she -had been grievously troubled during the past few days. "Very well, -ma'am, very well," said the Laird, blithely. "We will see who is right. -I am not a gambler, but I would wager ye a gold ring, a sixpence, and a -silver thimble that I am no so far out. I have my eyes open; oh, aye! -Now I am going on deck to see where we are." - -And so the Laird rose, and put the bulky volume by, and passed along the -saloon to the companion. We heard - - _Sing tantara! Sing tantara!_ - -as his head appeared. He was in a gay humour. - -Meanwhile the _White Dove_, with all sail set, had come along at a -spanking pace. The weather threatened change, it is true; there was a -deep gloom overhead; but along the southern horizon there was a blaze of -yellow light which had the odd appearance of being a sunset in the -middle of the day; and in this glare lay the long blue promontory known -as the Rhinns of Islay, within sight of the Irish coast. And so we went -down by Easdail, and past Colipoll and its slate-quarries; and we knew -this constant breeze would drive us through the swirls of the Dorus -Mohr--the "Great Gate." And were we listening, as we drew near in the -afternoon to the rose-purple bulk of Scarba, for the low roar of -Corrievrechan? We knew the old refrain:-- - - _As you pass through Jura's Sound_ - _Bend your course by Scarba's shore;_ - _Shun, oh, shun the gulf profound_ - _Where Corrievrechan's surges roar!_ - - -But now there is no ominous murmur along those distant shores. Silence -and a sombre gloom hang over the two islands. We are glad to shun this -desolate coast; and glad that the _White Dove_ is carrying us away to -the pleasanter south, when, behold! behold! another sight! As we open -out the dreaded gulf, Corrievrechan itself becomes but an open lane -leading out to the west; and there, beyond the gloom, amid the golden -seas, lies afar the music-haunted Colonsay! It is the calm of the -afternoon; the seas lie golden around the rocks; surely the sailors can -hear her singing now for the lover she lost so long ago! What is it -that thrills the brain so, and fills the eyes with tears, when we can -hear no sound at all coming over the sea? - -It is the Laird who summons us back to actualities. - -"It would be a strange thing," says he, "if Tom Galbraith were in that -island at this very meenit. Ah'm sure he was going there." - -And Captain John helps. - -"I not like to go near Corrievrechan," he says, with a grin, "when there -is a flood tide and half a gale from the sou'-west. It is an ahfu' -place," he adds, more seriously, "an ahfu' place." - -"I should like to go through," Angus Sutherland says, quite -inadvertently. - -"Aye, would ye, sir?" says Captain John, eagerly. "If there wass only -you and me on board, I would tek you through ferry well--with the wind -from the norrard and an ebb tide. Oh, yes! I would do that; and maybe -we will do it this year yet!" - -"I do not think I am likely to see Corrievrechan again this year," said -he, quite quietly--so quietly that scarcely any one heard. But Mary -Avon heard. - -Well, we managed, after all, to bore through the glassy swirls of the -Dorus Mohr--the outlying pickets, as it were, of the fiercer whirlpools -and currents of Corrievrechan--and the light breeze still continuing we -crept along in the evening past Crinan, and along the lonely coast of -Knapdale, with the giant Paps of Jura darkening in the west. Night -fell; the breeze almost died away; we turned the bow of the _White Dove_ -towards an opening in the land, and the flood tide gently bore her into -the wide, silent, empty loch. There did not seem to be any light on the -shores. Like a tall, grey phantom the yacht glided through the gloom; -we were somewhat silent on deck. - -But there was a radiant yellow glow coming through the skylight; and -Master Fred had done his best to make the saloon cheerful enough. And -where there is supper there ought to be other old-fashioned -institutions--singing, for example; and how long was it since we had -heard anything about the Queen's Maries, or "Ho, ro, clansmen!" or the -Irish Brigade? Nobody, however, appeared to think of these things. -This was a silent and lonely loch, and the gloom of night was over land -and water; but we still seemed to have before our eyes the far island -amid the golden seas. And was there not still lingering in the night -air some faint echo of the song of Colonsay? It is a heart-breaking -song; it is all about the parting of lovers. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIV.* - - *A SUNDAY IN FAR SOLITUDES.* - - -Mary Avon is seated all alone on deck, looking rather wistfully around -her at this solitary Loch-na-Chill--that is, the Loch of the Burying -Place. It is Sunday morning, and there is a more than Sabbath peace -dwelling over sea and shore. Not a ripple on the glassy sea; a pale -haze of sunshine on the islands in the south; a stillness as of death -along the low-lying coast. A seal rises to the surface of the calm sea, -and regards her for a moment with his soft black eyes; then slowly -subsides. She has not seen him; she is looking far away. - -Then a soft step is heard on the companion; and the manner of the girl -instantly changes. Are these tears that she hastily brushes aside? But -her face is all smiles to welcome her friend. She declares that she is -charmed with the still beauty of this remote and solitary loch. - -Then other figures appear; and at last we are all summoned on deck for -morning service. It is not an elaborate ceremony; there are no candles, -or genuflexions, or embroidered altar-cloths. But the Laird has put on -a black frock coat, and the men have put aside their scarlet cowls and -wear smart sailor-looking cloth caps. Then the Laird gravely rises, and -opens his book. - -Sometimes, it is true, our good friend has almost driven us to take -notice of his accent, and we have had our little jokes on board about -it; but you do not pay much heed to these peculiarities when the strong -and resonant voice--amid the strange silence of this Loch of the Burying -Place--reads out the 103rd Psalm: "Like as a father peetieth his -children," he may say; but one does not heed that. And who is to notice -that, as he comes to these words, he lifts his eyes from the book and -fixes them for a moment on Mary Avon's downcast face? "Like as a father -pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him. For He -knoweth our frame; He remembereth that we are dust. As for man, his days -are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind -passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no -more. But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon -them that fear Him, and His righteousness unto children's children." -Then, when he had finished the Psalm, he turned to the New Testament, -and read in the same slow and reverent manner the 6th chapter of -Matthew. This concluded the service; it was not an elaborate one. - -Then, about an hour afterwards, the Laird, on being appealed to by his -hostess, gave it as his opinion that there would be no Sabbath -desecration at all in our going ashore to examine the ruins of what -appeared to be an ancient chapel, which we could make out by the aid of -our glasses on the green slope above the rocks. And as our young -friends--Angus and the Youth--idly paddled us away from the yacht, the -Laird began to apologise to his hostess for not having lengthened the -service by the exposition of some chosen text. - -"Ye see, ma'am," he observed, "some are gifted in that way, and some -not. My father, now, had an amazing power of expounding and -explaining--I am sure there was nothing in _Hutcheson's Exposeetion_ he -had not in his memory. A very famous man he was in those days as an -Anti-Lifter--very famous; there were few who could argue with him on -that memorable point." - -"But what did you call him, sir?" asks his hostess, with some vague -notion that the Laird's father had lived in the days of body-snatchers. - -"An Anti-Lifter: it was a famous controversy; but ye are too young to -remember of it perhaps. And now in these days we are more tolerant, and -rightly so; I do not care whether the minister lifts the sacramental -bread before distribution or not, now that there is no chance of Popery -getting into our Presbyterian Church in disguise. It is the speerit, -not the form, that is of importance: our Church authoritatively declares -that the efficacy of the sacraments depends not 'upon any virtue in them -or in him that doth administer them.' Aye; that is the cardinal truth. -But in those days they considered it right to guard against Popery in -every manner; and my father was a prominent Anti-Lifter; and well would -he argue and expound on that and most other doctrinal subjects. But I -have not much gift that way," added the Laird, modestly; quite -forgetting with what clearness he had put before us the chief features -of the great Semple case. - -"I don't think you have anything to regret, sir," said our young Doctor, -as he carelessly worked the oar with one hand, "that you did not bother -the brains of John and his men with any exposition of the Sermon on the -Mount. Isn't it an odd thing that the common fishermen and boatmen of -the Sea of Galilee understood the message Christ brought them just at -once? and now a days, when we have millions of churches built, and -millions of money being spent, and tons upon tons of sermons being -written every year, we seem only to get further and further into -confusion and chaos. Fancy the great army of able-bodied men that go on -expounding and expounding; and the learning and time and trouble they -bestow on their work; and scarcely any two of them agreed; while the -people who listen to them are all in a fog. Simon Peter, and Andrew, and -the sons of Zebedee, must have been men of the most extraordinary -intellect. They understood at once; they were commissioned to teach; -and they had not even a Shorter Catechism to go by." - -The Laird looked at him doubtfully. He did not know whether to -recognise in him a true ally or not. However, the mention of the -Shorter Catechism seemed to suggest solid ground; and he was just about -entering into the question of the Subordinate Standards when an -exclamation of rage on the part of his nephew startled us. That -handsome lad, during all this theological discussion, had been keeping a -watchful and matter-of-fact eye on a number of birds on the shore; and -now that we were quite close to the sandy promontory, he had recognised -them. - -"Look! look!" he said, in tones of mingled eagerness and disappointment. -"Golden plovers, every one of them! Isn't it too bad? It's always like -this on Sunday. I will bet you won't get within half a mile of them -to-morrow!" - -And he refused to be consoled as we landed on the sandy shore; and found -the golden-dusted, long-legged birds running along before us, or -flitting from patch to patch of the moist greensward. We had to leave -him behind in moody contemplation as we left the shore and scrambled up -the rugged and rocky slope to the ruins of this solitary little chapel. - -There was an air of repose and silence about these crumbling walls and -rusted gates that was in consonance with a habitation of the dead. And -first of all, outside, we came upon an upright Iona cross, elaborately -carved with strange figures of men and beasts. But inside the small -building, lying prostrate among the grass and weeds, there was a -collection of those memorials that would have made an antiquarian's -heart leap for joy. It is to be feared that our guesses about the -meaning of the emblems on the tombstones were of a crude and superficial -character. Were these Irish chiefs, those stone figures with the long -sword and the harp beside them? Was the recurrent shamrock a national -or religious emblem? And why was the effigy of this ancient worthy -accompanied by a pair of pincers, an object that looked like a -tooth-comb, and a winged griffin? Again, outside but still within the -sacred walls, we came upon still further tombs of warriors, most of them -hidden among the long grass; and here and there we tried to brush the -weeds away. It was no bad occupation for a Sunday morning, in this -still and lonely burial-place above the wide seas. - -On going on board again we learned from John of Skye that there were -many traces of an ancient ecclesiastical colonisation about this coast; -and that in especial there were a ruined chapel and other remains on one -of a small group of islands that we could see on the southern horizon. -Accordingly, after luncheon, we fitted out an expedition to explore that -distant island. The Youth was particularly anxious to examine these -ecclesiastical remains; he did not explain to everybody that he had -received from Captain John a hint that the shores of this sainted island -swarmed with seals. - -And now the gig is shoved off; the four oars strike the glassy water; -and away we go in search of the summer isles in the south. The Laird -settles himself comfortably in the stern; it seems but natural that he -should take Mary Avon's hand in his, just as if she were a little child. - -"And ye must know, Miss Mary," he says, quite cheerfully, "that if ever -ye should come to live in Scotland, ye will not be persecuted with our -theology. No, no; far from it; we respect every one's religion, if it -is sincere; though we cling to our own. And why should we not cling to -it, and guard it from error? We have had to fight for our civil and -religious leeberties inch by inch, foot by foot; and we have won. The -blood of the saints has not been shed in vain. The cry of the dying and -wounded on many a Lanarkshire moor--when the cavalry were riding about, -and hewing and slaughtering--was not wasted on the air! The Lord heard, -and answered. And we do well to guard what we have gained; and, if need -were, there are plenty of Scotsmen alive at this day who would freely -spend their lives in defending their own releegion. But ye need not -fear. These are the days of great toleration. Ye might live in -Scotland all your life, and not hear an ill word said of the Episcopal -Church!" - -After having given this solemn assurance the Laird cast a glance of sly -humour at Angus Sutherland. - -"I will confess," said he, "when Dr. Sutherland brought that up this -morning about Peter and Andrew, and James and John, I was a bit put out. -But then," he added, triumphantly, "ye must remember that in those days -they had not the inseedious attacks of Prelacy to guard against. There -was no need for them to erect bulwarks of the faith. But in our time it -is different, or rather it has been different. I am glad to think that -we of the Scotch Church are emancipated from the fear of Rome; and I am -of opeenion that with the advancing times they are in the right who -advocate a little moderation in the way of applying and exacting the -Standards. No, no; I am not for bigotry. I assure ye, Miss Mary, ye -will find far fewer bigots in Scotland than people say." - -"I have not met any, sir," remarks Miss Mary. - -"I tell ye what," said he, solemnly; "I am told on good authority that -there is a movement among the U. P. Presbytery to send up to the Synod a -sort of memorial with regard to the Subordinate Standards--that is, ye -know, the Westminster Confession of Faith and the Larger and Shorter -Catechisms--just hinting, in a mild sort of way, that these are of human -composition, and necessarily imperfect; and that a little amount -of--of----" - -The Laird could not bring himself to pronounce the word "laxity." He -stammered and hesitated, and at last said-- - -"Well; a little judeecious liberality of construction--do ye see?--on -certain points is admissible, while clearly defining other points on -which the Church will not admit of question. However, as I was saying, -we have little fear of Popery in the Presbyterian Church now; and ye -would have no need to fear it in your English Church if the English -people were not so sorely wanting in humour. If they had any sense of -fun they would have laughed those millinery, play-acting people out o' -their Church long ago----" - -But at this moment it suddenly strikes the Laird that a fair proportion -of the people he is addressing are of the despised English race; and he -hastily puts in a disclaimer. - -"I meant the clergy, of course," says he, most unblushingly, "the -English clergy, as having no sense of humour at all--none at all. Dear -me, what a stupid man I met at Dunoon last year! There were some people -on board the steamer talking about Homesh--ye know, he was known to -every man who travelled up and down the Clyde--and they told the English -clergyman about Homesh wishing he was a stot. 'Wishing he was a what?' -says he. Would ye believe it, it took about ten meenutes to explain the -story to him bit by bit; and at the end of it his face was as blank as a -bannock before it is put on the girdle!" - -We could see the laughter brimming in the Laird's eyes; he was thinking -either of the stot or some other story about Homesh. But his reverence -for Sunday prevailed. He fell back on the Standards; and was most -anxious to assure Miss Avon that, if ever she were to live in Scotland, -she would suffer no persecution at all, even though she still determined -to belong to the Episcopal Church. - -"We have none in the neighbourhood of Strathgovan," he remarked, quite -simply; "but ye could easily drive in to Glasgow"--and he did not notice -the quick look of surprise and inquiry that Angus Sutherland immediately -directed from the one to the other. But Mary Avon was poking down. - -It was a long pull; but by and by the features of the distant island -became clearer; and we made out an indentation that probably meant a -creek of some sort. But what was our surprise, as we drew nearer and -nearer to what we supposed to be an uninhabited island, to find the -topmast of a vessel appearing over some rocks that guard the entrance to -the bay? As we pulled into the still waters, and passed the heavy black -smack lying at anchor, perhaps the two solitary creatures in charge of -her were no less surprised at the appearance of strangers in these -lonely waters. They came ashore just as we landed. They explained, in -more or less imperfect English, that they were lobster-fishers; and that -this was a convenient haven tor their smack, while they pulled in their -small boat round the shores to look after the traps. And if--when the -Laird was not looking--his hostess privately negotiated for the sale of -half-a-dozen live lobsters, and if young Smith also took a quiet -opportunity of inquiring about the favourite resorts of the seals; what -then? Mice will play when they get the chance. The Laird was walking -on with Mary Avon; and was telling her about the Culdees. - -And all the time we wandered about the deserted island, and explored its -ruins, and went round its bays, the girl kept almost exclusively with -the Laird, or with her other and gentle friend; and Angus had but little -chance of talking to her or walking with her. He was left pretty much -alone. Perhaps he was not greatly interested in the ecclesiastical -remains. But he elicited from the two lobster-fishers that the hay -scattered on the floor of the chapel was put there by fishermen, who -used the place to sleep in when they came to the island. And they -showed him the curious tombstone of the saint, with its sculptured -elephant and man on horseback. Then he went away by himself to trace -out the remains of a former civilisation on the island; the withered -stumps of a blackthorn hedge, and the abundant nettle. A big rat ran -out; the only visible tenant of the crumbled habitation. - -Meanwhile the others had climbed to the summit of the central hill; and -behold! all around the smooth bays were black and shining objects, like -the bladders used on fishermen's nets. But these moved this way and -that; sometimes there was a big splash as one disappeared. The Youth -sate and regarded this splendid hunting-ground with a breathless -interest. - -"I'm thinking ye ought to get your sealskin to-morrow, Miss Mary," says -the Laird, for once descending to worldly things. - -"Oh, I hope no one will be shot for me!" she said. "They are such -gentle creatures." - -"But young men will be young men, ye know," said he, cheerfully. "When -I was Howard's age, and knew I had a gun within reach, a sight like that -would have made my heart jump." - -"Yes," said the nephew; "but you never do have a sight like that when -you have a rifle within reach." - -"Wait till to-morrow--wait till to-morrow," said the Laird, cheerfully. -"And now we will go down to the boat. It is a long pull back to the -yacht." - -But the Laird's nephew got even more savage as we rowed back in the -calm, pale twilight. Those wild duck would go whirring by within easy -shot--apparently making away to the solitudes of Loch Swen. Then that -greyish-yellow thing on the rocks--could it be a sheep? We watched it -for several minutes, as the gig went by in the dusk; then, with a heavy -plunge or two, the seal floundered down and into the water. The splash -echoed through the silence. - -"Did you ever see the like of that?" the Youth exclaimed, mortified -beyond endurance. "Did you ever? As big as a cow! And as sure as you -get such a chance, it is Sunday!" - -"I am very glad," says Miss Avon. "I hope no one will shoot a seal on -my account." - -"The seal ought to be proud to have such a fate," said the Laird, -gallantly. "Ye are saving him from a miserable and lingering death of -cold, or hunger, or old age. And whereas in that case nobody would care -anything or see anything more about him, ye give him a sort of -immortality in your dining-room, and ye are never done admiring him. A -proud fellow he ought to be. And if the seals about here are no very -fine in their skins, still it would be a curiosity, and at present we -have not one at all at Denny-mains." - -Again this reference to Denny-mains: Angus Sutherland glanced from one -to the other; but what could he see in the dusk? - -Then we got back to the yacht: what a huge grey ghost she looked in the -gloom! And as we were all waiting to get down the companion, Angus -Sutherland put his hand on his hostess's arm, and stayed her. - -"You must be wrong," said he, simply. "I have offended her somehow. -She has not spoken ten words to me to-day." - - - - - *CHAPTER XV.* - - *HIDDEN SPRINGS.* - - -"Well, perhaps it is better, after all," says a certain person, during -one of those opportunities for brief conjugal confidences that are -somewhat rare on board ship. She sighs as she speaks. "I thought it -was going to be otherwise. But it will be all the better for Angus not -to marry for some years to come. He has a great future before him; and a -wife would really be an encumbrance. Young professional men should -never marry; their circumstances keep on improving, but they can't -improve their wives." - -All this is very clear and sensible. It is not always that this person -talks in so matter-of-fact a way. If, however, everything has turned -out for the best, why this sudden asperity with which she adds-- - -"But I did not expect it of Mary." - -And then again-- - -"She might at least be civil to him." - -"She is not uncivil to him. She only avoids him." - -"I consider that her open preference for Howard Smith is just a little -bit too ostentatious," she says, in rather an injured way. "Indeed, if -it comes to that, she would appear to prefer the Laird to either of -them. Any stranger would think she wanted to marry Denny-mains -himself." - -"Has it ever occurred to you," is the respectful question, "that a young -woman--say once in a century--may be in that state of mind in which she -would prefer not to marry anybody?" - -Abashed? Not a bit of it! There is a calm air of superiority on her -face: she is above trifles and taunts. - -"If unmarried women had any sense," she says, "that would be their -normal state of mind." - -And she might have gone on enlarging on this text, only that at this -moment Mary Avon comes along from the ladies' cabin; and the morning -greetings take place between the two women. Is it only a suspicion that -there is a touch of coldness in the elder woman's manner? Is it possible -that her love for Mary Avon may be decreasing by ever so little a bit? - -Then Angus comes down the companion: he has got some wild flowers; he -has been ashore. And surely he ought to give them to the younger of the -two women: she is of the age when such pretty compliments are a natural -thing. But no. The flowers are for his hostess--for the decoration of -her table; and Mary Avon does not look up as they are handed along. - -Then young Mr. Smith makes his appearance; he has been ashore too. And -his complaints and protests fill the air. - -"Didn't I tell you?" he says, appealing more especially to the -women-folk for sympathy. "Didn't I tell you? You saw all those golden -plover yesterday, and the wild duck further up the loch: there is not a -sign of one of them! I knew it would be so. As sure as Monday begins, -you never get a chance! I will undertake to say that when we get to -those islands where all the seals were yesterday, we sha'n't see one -to-day!" - -"But are we to stop here a whole day in order to let you go and shoot -seals?" says his hostess. - -"You can't help it," says he, laughing. "There isn't any wind." - -"Angus," she says--as if nobody knew anything about the wind but the -young Doctor--"is that so?" - -"Not a doubt of it," he says. "But it is a beautiful day. You might -make up a luncheon-party, and have a pic-nic by the side of the Saint's -Well--down in the hollow, you know." - -"Much chance I shall have with the seals, then!" remarks the other young -man, good-naturedly enough. - -However, it is enough that the suggestion has come from Angus -Sutherland. A pic-nic on the Island of the Saints is forthwith -commanded--seals or no seals. And while Master Fred, immediately after -breakfast, begins his preparations, the Laird helps by carefully putting -a corkscrew in his pocket. It is his invariable custom. We are ready -for any emergency. - -And if the golden plover, and mergansers, and seals appear to know that -the new, busy, brisk working-days have begun again, surely we ought to -know it too. Here are the same silent shores; and the calm blue seas -and blue sky; and the solitary islands in the south--all just as they -were yesterday; but we have a secret sense that the lassitude and -idleness of Sunday are over, and that there is something of freedom in -the air. The Laird has no longer any need to keep a check on his -tongue: those stories about Homesh may bubble up to the surface of his -mind just as they please. And indeed he is exceedingly merry and -facetious as the preparations go on for this excursion. When at length -he gets into the stern of the boat he says to his companion-- - - _"There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,_ - _And Mary Avon, and me._ - ---What ails ye, lass? I have not heard much of your singing of late." - -"You would not have me sing profane songs on Sunday?" she says, -demurely. - -"No; but I mean long before Sunday. However," he says, cheerfully, and -looking at her, "there is a wonderful change in ye--wonderful! Well do -I mind the day I first saw ye, on the quay; though it seems a long time -since then. Ye were a poor white bit thing then; I was astonished; and -the next day too, when ye were lame as well, I said to myself, 'Well; -it's high time that bit lass had a breath o' the sea air.' And now--why -ye just mind me o' the lasses in the Scotch songs--the country lasses, -ye know--with the fine colour on your face." - -And indeed this public statement did not tend to decrease the sun-brown -that now tinged Mary Avon's cheeks. - -"These lads," said he--no doubt referring to his nephew and to Angus -Sutherland, who were both labouring at the long oars--"are much too -attentive to ye, putting ye under the shadow of the sails, and bringing -ye parasols and things like that. No, no; don't you be afraid of -getting sun-burned; it is a comely and wholesome thing: is it not -reasonable that human beings need the sunlight as much as plants? Just -ask your friend Dr. Sutherland that; though a man can guess as much -without a microscope. Keep ye in the sun, Miss Mary; never mind the -brown on your cheeks, whatever the young men say: I can tell ye ye are -looking a great deal better now than when ye stepped on shore--a shilpit -pale bit thing--on that afternoon." - -Miss Avon had not been in the habit of receiving lectures like this -about her complexion, and she seemed rather confused; but fortunately -the measured noise of the rowlocks prevented the younger men from -overhearing. - - _"There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,_ - _And Mary Avon, and me."--_ - -continued the Laird, in his facetious way; and he contentedly patted the -hand of the girl beside him. "I fear I am growing very fond of -idleness." - -"I am sure, sir, you are so busy during the rest of the year," says this -base flatterer, "that you should be able to enjoy a holiday with a clear -conscience." - -"Well, perhaps so--perhaps so," said the Laird, who was greatly pleased. -"And yet, let one work as hard as one can, it is singular how little one -can do, and what little thanks ye get for doing it. I am sure those -people in Strathgovan spend half their lives in fault-finding; and -expect ye to do everything they can think of without asking them for a -farthing. At the last meeting of the ratepayers in the Burgh Hall I -heckled them, I can tell ye. I am not a good speaker--no, no; far from -it; but I can speak plain. I use words that can be driven into people's -heads; and I will say this, that some o' those people in Strathgovan -have a skull of most extraordinar' thickness. But said I to them, 'Do ye -expect us to work miracles? Are we to create things out of nothing? If -the rates are not to be increased, where are the new gas-lamps to come -from? Do ye think we can multiply gas-lamps as the loaves and fishes -were multiplied?' I'm thinking," added the Laird, with a burst of -hearty laughter, "that the thickest-skulled of them all understood -that--eh?" - -"I should hope so," remarked Miss Avon. - -Then the measured rattle of the oars: it wants hard pulling against this -fiercely running tide; indeed, to cheat it in a measure, we have to keep -working along the coast and across the mouth of Loch Swen. - - _"There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,_ - _And Mary Avon, and me"--_ - -says the Laird, as a playful introduction to another piece of talking. -"I have been asking myself once or twice whether I know any one in the -whole kingdom of Scotland better than you." - -"Than me, sir?" she says, with a start of surprise. - -"Yes," he says, sententiously. "That is so. And I have had to answer -myself in the naygative. It is wonderful how ye get to know a person on -board a yacht. I just feel as if I had spent years and years with ye; -so that there is not any one I know with whom I am better acquaint. -When ye come to Denny-mains, I shall be quite disappointed if ye look -surprised or strange to the place. I have got it into my head that ye -must have lived there all your life. Will ye undertake to say," he -continues, in the same airy manner, "that ye do not know the little -winding path that goes up through the trees to the flag-staff--eh?" - -"I'm afraid I don't remember it," she says, with a smile. - -"Wait till ye see the sunsets ye can see from there!" he says, proudly. -"We can see right across Glasgow to Tennants' Stalk; and in the -afternoon the smoke is all turning red and brown with the sunset--many's -and many's the time I have taken Tom Galbraith to the hill, and asked -him whether they have finer sunsets at Naples or Venice. No, no; give -me fire and smoke and meestery for a strong sunset. But just the best -time of the year, as ye'll find out"--and here he looked in a kindly way -at the girl--"where there is a bit wood near the house, is the -spring-time. When ye see the primroses and the blue-bells about the -roots of the trees--when ye see them so clear and bright among the red -of the withered leaves--well, ye cannot help thinking about some of our -old Scotch songs, and there's something in that that's just like to -bring the tears to your een. We have a wonderful and great inheritance -in these songs, as ye'll find out, my lass. You English know only of -Burns; but a Scotchman, who is familiar with the ways and the feelings -and the speech of the peasantry, has a sort o' uncomfortable impression -that Burns is at times just a bit artifeecial and leeterary--especially -when he is masquerading in fine English; though at other times ye get -the real lilt--what a man would sing to himself when he was all alone at -the plough, in the early morning, and listening to the birds around him. -But there are others that we are proud of, too--Tannahill, and John -Mayne, that wrote about _Logan Braes_; and Hogg, and Motherwell: I'm -sure o' this, that when ye read Motherwell's _Jeanie Morrison_, ye'll no -be able to go on for greetin'." - -"I beg your pardon?" said Miss Avon. - -But the Laird is too intent on recalling some of the lines to notice -that she has not quite understood him. - -"They were school-mates," he says, in an absent way. "When school was -over, they wandered away like lad and lass; and he writes the poem in -after-life, and speaks to her he has never seen since. - - _"Oh, mind ye, love, how oft we left_ - _The deavin' dinsome toun,_ - _To wander by the green burn-side,_ - _And hear its water croon?_ - _The simmer leaves hung ower our heads,_ - _The flowers burst round our feet;_ - _And in the gloamin' o the wood_ - _The throssil whistled sweet._ - - * * * * * - - _"And on the knowe aboon the burn_ - _For hours thegither sat_ - _In the silentness o' joy, till baith_ - _Wi' very gladness grat!_ - _Aye, aye, dear Jeanie Morrison,_ - _Tears trinkled down your cheek,_ - _Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane_ - _Had ony power to speak!"_ - -The Laird's voice faltered for a moment; but he pretended he had great -difficulty in remembering the poem, and confessed that he must have -mixed up the verses. However, he said he remembered the last one. - - _"O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,_ - _Since we were sundered young,_ - _I've never seen your face, nor heard_ - _The music of your tongue;_ - _But I could hug all wretchedness,_ - _And happy could I dee,_ - _Did I but ken your heart still dreamed_ - _O' bygane days and me!"_ - - -Just as he finished, the old Laird turned aside his head. He seemed to -be suddenly interested in something over at the mouth of Loch Swen. -Then he quickly passed his red silk handkerchief across his face, and -said, in a gay manner--though he was still looking in that alien -direction-- - -"This is a desperate hard pull. We had nothing like this yesterday. -But it will do the lads good; it will take the stiffness out of their -backs." - -However, one of the lads--to wit, the Laird's nephew--admitted at length -that he had had quite enough of it, and gave up his oar to the man he -had relieved. Then he came into the stern, and was very pleasant and -talkative; and said he had quite made up his mind to find all the seals -gone from the shores of the sacred island. - -So formidable, indeed, was the tide, that we had to keep well away to -the south of the island before venturing to make across for it; and when -at length we did put the bow straight for the little harbour, the -mid-channel current swept us away northward, as if the gig had been a -bit of cork. But the four oars kept manfully to their work; and by dint -of hard pulling and pertinacious steering we managed to run into the -little bay. - -We found it quite deserted. The two lobster-fishers had left in the -morning; we were in sole possession of this lonely island, set amid the -still summer seas. - -But by this time it was nearly noon; and so it was arranged that the men -of the party should content themselves with a preliminary expedition, to -find out, by stealthy crawlings out to the various bays, where the seals -were chiefly congregated; while the women were to remain by the Saints' -Well, to help Fred to get luncheon spread out and arranged. And this -was done; and thus it happened that, after Master Fred had finished his -work, and retired down to his mates in the gig, the two women-folk were -left alone. - -"Why, Mary," said the one of them, quite cheerfully (as we afterwards -heard), "it is quite a long time since you and I had a chat together." - -"Yes, it is." - -"One gets so often interfered with on board, you know. Aren't you going -to begin now and make a sketch?" - -She had brought with her her sketching materials; but they were lying -unopened on a rock hard by. - -"No, I think not," she said, listlessly. - -"What is the matter with you?" said her kind friend, pretending to laugh -at her. "I believe you are fretting over the loss of the money, after -all." - -"Oh, no: I hope you do not think I am fretting!" said she, anxiously. -"No one has said that? I am really quite content--I am very--happy." - -She managed to say the word. - -"I am very glad to hear it," said her friend; "but I have a great mind -to scold you all the same." - -The girl looked up. Her friend went over to her, and sate down beside -her, and took her hand in hers. - -"Don't be offended, Mary," she said, good-naturedly. "I have no right -to interfere; but Angus is an old friend of mine. Why do you treat him -like that?" - -The girl looked at her with a sort of quick, frightened, inquiring -glance; and then said--as if she were almost afraid to hear herself -speak-- - -"Has he spoken to you?" - -"Yes. Now don't make a mole-hill into a mountain, Mary. If he has -offended you, tell him. Be frank with him. He would not vex you for -the world: do you think he would?" - -The girl's hand was beginning to tremble a good deal; and her face was -white, and piteous. - -"If you only knew him as well as I do, you would know he is as gentle as -a child: he would not offend any one. Now, you will be friends with him -again, Mary?" - -The answer was a strange one. The girl broke into a fit of wild crying, -and hid her face in her friend's bosom, and sobbed there so that her -whole frame was shaken with the violence of her misery. - -"Mary, what is it?" said the other, in great alarm. - -Then, by and by, the girl rose, and went away over to her sketching -materials for a minute or two. Then she returned: her face still rather -white, but with a certain cold and determined look on it. - -"It is all a mistake," said she, speaking very distinctly. "Dr. -Sutherland has not offended me in the least: please tell him so if he -speaks again. I hope we shall always be good friends." - -She opened out her colour-box. - -"And then," said she, with an odd laugh, "before you think I have gone -crazed, please remember it isn't every day one loses such an enormous -fortune as mine." - -She began to get her other sketching things ready. And she was very -cheerful about it, and very busy; and she was heard to be singing to -herself-- - - _Then fill up a bumper: what can I do less_ - _Than drink to the health of my bonny Black Bess?_ - -But her friend, when by chance she turned her head a little bit, -perceived that the pale and piteous face was still wet with tears; and -the praises of Black Bess did not wholly deceive her. - - - - - END OF VOL. II. - - - - - LONDON: R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, BREAD STREET HILL. - - - - - * * * * * * * * - - - - - *NOVELS BY WILLIAM BLACK.* - - -MACLEOD OF DARE. -THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PHAETON. -A PRINCESS OF THULE. -MADCAP VIOLET. -GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. -THE MAID OF KILLEENA, and other Tales. - - - MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITE WINGS, VOLUME II (OF 3) -*** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43829 - -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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