^-■C^C 

 
 "WHITE WINGS 
 
 3. SJacljUug llomance 
 
 By WILLIAM BLACK 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A PRINCESS OF THULE " "THE STRANGE ADTENTURES OP A PHAETON" 
 "MACLEOD OF DARE" "A DAUGHTER OF HETH " " JIADCAP VIOLET" 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY W. SMALL 
 
 NEW YORK 
 HAKPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 
 
 1880
 
 WILLIAM BLACK'S NOVELS. 
 
 LIBRARY EDITION. 
 
 MACLEOD OF DARE. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, 
 $1 25. 
 
 GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. 12mo, 
 Cloth, *l 25. 
 
 MADCAP VIOLET. 12mo, Cloth, |1 25. 
 
 THREE FEATHERS. Ill's. 12mo, Cloth, |1 25. 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF HETH. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25. 
 
 A PRINCESS OF THULE. 12mo, Cloth, |I 25. 
 IN SILK ATTIRE. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25. 
 KILMENY. 12mo,Cloth, $1 25. 
 
 THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PHAETON. 
 
 12mo, Cloth, |1 25. 
 
 WHITE WINGS. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25. 
 
 POPULAR EDITIONS. 
 
 MACLEOD OF DARE. 8vo, Paper, Illustrated, 60 
 
 cents ; 4lo, Paper, 10 cents. 
 GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. 8vo, 
 
 Paper, 50 rents. 
 
 MADCAP VIOLET. 8vo, Paper, 511 cents. 
 THREE FEATHERS. Ill's. 8vo, Paper, .M cents. 
 A DAUGHTER OF HETH. 8vo, Paper, .■i5 cents. 
 A PRINCESS OF THULE. 8vo, Paper, 50 cents. 
 IN SILK ATTIRE. 8vo, Paper, 35 cents. 
 
 WHITE WINGS. 
 
 KILMENY. 8vo, Paper, 35 cents. 
 
 LOVE OR MARRIAGE t 8vo, Paper, 30 cents. 
 
 THE MAID OK KILLEENA, THE MARRIAGE 
 OF MiiIRA FERGUS, and Other Stories. 8vo, 
 Paper, 40 cents. 
 
 THE MONARCH OF MINCING LANE. 8vo, Pa- 
 per, 50 tents. 
 
 THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OFA PHAETON. 
 
 8vo, Paper, 50 cents. 
 4to, Paper, 10 cents. 
 
 Published by IIAIIPER k BROTHERS, New York. 
 
 ty Any of the above volume* will be atnt by maily postage prepaidj to any part of the United States, an 
 recfi/t of the price.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 OUAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. ON THE QUAY 5 
 
 II. MARY AVON 9 
 
 ni. UNDER WAY 15 
 
 IV. A MESSAGE 22 
 
 V. A BRAVE CAREER 29 
 
 VI. "brose" 36 
 
 ^^I. NORTHWARD 45 
 
 VIII. PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS 53 
 
 IX. A AVILD STUDIO 61 
 
 X. "dutjvegan! — oh! dunvegan !" 69 
 
 XI. DRAWING NEARER 78 
 
 XIL THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW 86 
 
 XIII. FERDINAND AND MIRANDA 94 
 
 XIV. EVIL TIDINGS 101 
 
 XV. TEMPTATION 109 
 
 XVI. THROUGH THE DARK 116 
 
 XVIL \aLLANY ABROAD 125 
 
 XVIII. AN ULTIMATION 133 
 
 XIX. THE NEW SUITOR 141 
 
 XX. CHASING A THUNDER-STORM 148 
 
 XXL CHASING SEALS 156 
 
 XXII. " UNCERTAIN, COY, AND HARD TO PLEASE" 164 
 
 XXIII. SECRET SCHEMES 172 
 
 XXIV. BEFORE BREAKFAST 179 
 
 XXV. A PROTECTOR 187 
 
 XXVI. "MARY! MARY !" 194 
 
 XXVIL AN UNSPOKEN APPEAL 202 
 
 XXVIII. HIS LORDSHIP 211 
 
 XXIX. THE laird's PLANS 217 
 
 XXX. A SUNDAY IN FAR SOLITUDES 224 
 
 XXXI. HIDDEN SPRINGS 231 
 
 XXXII. A CONFESSION 239 
 
 XXXllI. ONLY A HEADACHE 247
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAOE 
 
 XXXIV. IN THE DARK 255 
 
 XXXV. TO ABSENT FRIENDS 262 
 
 xxx^^. SUSPICIONS 271 
 
 XXXVII. CERTAINTY 278 
 
 XXXVIII. A PARABLE 286 
 
 XXXIX. A RELEASE 293 
 
 XL. "while the RIPPLES FOLD UPON SANDS OF GOLD" 299 
 
 XLI. BACKWARD THOUGHTS 305 
 
 XLII. SAILING NORTHWARD 312 
 
 XLUI. IN FAIRY-LAND 319 
 
 XLiv. "ye are welcome, GLENOGIE " 325 
 
 XLV. THE EQUINOCTIALS AT LAST. 334 
 
 XLVi. "flieh! auf! hinaus!" , 340 
 
 XX\ai. AFTER THE GALE 344 
 
 XL\aiI. "a good ONE FOR THE LAST" 352 
 
 XLix. adieu! 359
 
 AVHEITE ^WT1S[GS 
 
 A Yachting Romance. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON THE QUAY. 
 
 A MURMUR rntis tlarougli the crowd ; the various idlers grow 
 alert ; all eyes are suddenly turned to the south. And there, far 
 away, over the green headland, a small tuft of brown smoke 
 appears, rising into the golden glow of the afternoon, and we 
 know that by -and -by we shall see the great steamer with her 
 scarlet funnels come sailing round the point. The Laird of 
 Denny-mains assumes an air of still further importance ; he pulls 
 his frock-coat tight at the waist ; he adjusts his black satin neck- 
 tie ; his tall, white, stiff collar seems more rigid and white than 
 ever. He has heard of the wonderful stranger ; and he knows 
 that now she is drawing near. 
 
 Heard of her ? He has heard of nothing else since ever he 
 came to us in these Northern wilds. For the mistress of this 
 household — with all her domineering ways and her fits of majes- 
 tic temper — has a love for her intimate girl-friends far passing 
 the love of men ; especially when the young ladies are obedient 
 and gentle, and ready to pay to her matronly dignity the com- 
 pliment of a respectful awe. And this particular friend who is 
 now coming to us : what has not the Laird heard about her dur- 
 ing these past few days ? — of her high courage, her resolute un- 
 selfishness, her splendid cheerfulness? "A singing -bird in the 
 house," that was one of the phrases used, " in wet weather or 
 fine." And then the enthusiastic friend muddled her metaphors 
 somehow, and gave the puzzled Laird to understand that the
 
 6 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 presence of this young lady in a house was like having sweet- 
 brier about the rooms. No wonder he put on his highest and 
 stiffest collar before he marched grandly down with us to the 
 quay. 
 
 "And does she not deserve a long holiday, sir?" says the 
 Laird's hostess to him, as together they watch for the steamer 
 coming round the point. " Just fancy ! Two months' attend- 
 ance on that old woman, who was her mother's nurse. Two 
 months in a sick-room, without a soul to break the monotony of 
 it. And the girl living in a strange town all by herself." 
 
 " Ay ; and in such a town as Edinburgh," remarks the Laird, 
 with great compassion. His own propei'ty lies just outside 
 Glasgow. 
 
 " Dear me !" says he, " what must a young English leddy have 
 thought of our Scotch way of speech when she heard they poor 
 Edinburgh bodies and their yaumering sing-song? Not that I 
 quarrel with any people for having an accent in their way of 
 speaking; they have that in all parts of England as well as in 
 Scotland — in Yorkshire, and Somersetshire, and what not ; and 
 even in London itself there is a way of speech that is quite 
 recognizable to a stranger. But I have often thought that there 
 was less trace of accent about Glesca and the west of Scotland 
 than in any other part; in fact, ah have often been taken for an 
 Enii'lislinian maself." 
 
 '' Indeed !" says this gentle creature standing by him ; and her 
 upturned eyes are full of an innocent belief. You would swear 
 she was meditating on summoning instantly her boys from Ep- 
 som College that they might acquire a pure accent — or get rid 
 of all accent — on the banks of the Clyde. 
 
 " Yes," says the Laird, with a decision almost amounting to 
 enthusiasm, " it is a grand inheritance that we in the south of 
 Scotland are preserving for yon English people ; and you know 
 little of it. You do not know that we are preserving the Eng- 
 lish language for you as it was spoken centuries ago, and as you 
 find it in your oldest writings. Scotticisms ! Why, if ye were 
 to road the prose of Mandeville or Wyclif, or the poetry of 
 Uobert of Brunne or Langdale, ye would find that our Scotticisms 
 were the very pith and marrow of the English language. Ay, 
 it is so." 
 
 The innocent eyes express such profound interest that the
 
 ON THE QUAY. 7 
 
 Laird of Denny-mains almost forgets about tlie coming steamer, 
 so anxious is he to crusli us with a display of liis erudition. 
 
 "It is just remarkable," he says, "that your dictionaries should 
 put down as obsolete words that are in common use all over the 
 south of Scotland, where, as I say, the old Northumbrian English 
 is preserved in its purity ; and that ye should have learned people 
 hunting up in Chaucer or Gower for the very speech that they 
 can hear among the bits o' weans running about the Gallowgate 
 or the Broomielaw. ^Whcis add yeV you say to one of them ; 
 and you think you are talking Scotch. No, no ; acht is only the 
 old English for possession : isn't ' Who's acht ye ?'' shorter and 
 pithier than ' To whoni do you belong ^ " 
 
 " Oh, certainly !" says the meek disciple : the recall of the boys 
 from Surrey is obviously decided on. 
 
 "And speir for inquire ; and ferly for luonderful; and tyne 
 for lose; and /cy for about to die; and reek for smoke; and 
 menseful for becoming ; and belyve, and /ere, and biggan, and 
 such words. Ye call them Scotch? Oh no, ma'am; they are 
 English ; ye find them in all the old English writers, and they 
 are the best of English, too ; a great deal better than the Frenchi- 
 fied stuff that your Southern English has become." 
 
 Not for worlds would the Laird have wounded the patriotic 
 sensitiveness of this gentle friend of his from the South ; but, 
 indeed, she had surely nothing to complain of in his insisting to 
 an Englishwoman on the value of thorough English. 
 
 " I thought," says she, demurely, " that the Scotch had a good 
 many French words in it." 
 
 The Laird pretends not to hear : he is so deeply interested in 
 the steamer which is now coming over the smooth waters of the 
 bay. But, having announced that there are a great many people 
 on board, he returns to his discourse. 
 
 " Ah'm sure of thi?, too," says he, " that in the matter of pro- 
 nunciation the Lowland Scotch have preserved the best Eng- 
 lish: you can see that /a /^Ae?-, and twebnonth, and twa, and such 
 words, are nearer the original Anglo-Saxon — " 
 
 His hearers had been taught to shudder at the phrase Anglo- 
 Saxon — without exactly knowing why. But who could with- 
 stand the authority of the Laird ? Moreover, we see relief draw- 
 ing near ; the steamer's paddles are throbbing in the still after- 
 noon. 
 
 1*
 
 8 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " If ye turn to ' Piers the Plougliman,' " continues the inde- 
 fatigahle Denny-mains, " ye will find Langdale writing — 
 
 ' And a fewe Cruddes and Crayme.' 
 
 AVhy, it is the familiar phrase of our Scotch children ! — Do ye 
 think they would say curds — and then, fewe ? I am not sure, 
 but I imagine we Scotch are only making use of old English 
 when we make certain forms of food plural. We say ' a few 
 broth ;' we speak of porridge as ' they,' Perhaps that is a sur- 
 vival, too, eh ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, certainly. But please mind the ropes, sir," ob- 
 serves his humble pupil, careful of her master's physical safety. 
 For at this moment the steamer is slowing in the quay, and the 
 men have the ropes ready to fling ashore. 
 
 " Not," remarks the Laird, prudently backing away from the 
 edge of the pier, " that I would say anything of these matters 
 to your young English friend ; certainly not. No doubt she pre- 
 fers the Southern English she has been accustomed to. But, 
 bless me ! just to think that she should judge of our Scotch 
 tongue by the way they Edinburgh bodies speak !" 
 
 "It is sad, is it not?" remarks his companion — but all her 
 attention is now fixed on the crowd of people swarming to the 
 side of the steamer. 
 
 "And, indeed," the Laird explains, to close the subject, "it is 
 only a hobby of mine — only a hobby. Ye may have noticed 
 that I do not use those words in my own speech, though I value 
 them. No, I will not force any Scotch on the young leddy. 
 As ah say, ah have often been taken for an Englishman maself, 
 both at home and abroad." 
 
 And now — and now — the great steamer is in at the quay; 
 the gangways are run over ; there is a thronging up the paddle- 
 boxes, 'and eager faces on shore scan equally eager faces on 
 board — each pair of eyes looking for that other pair of eyes to 
 flash a glad recognition. And where is she — the flower of wom- 
 ankind, the possessor of all virtue and grace and courage, the 
 wonder of the world? The Laird shares in our excitement. lie, 
 too, scans the crowd eagerly. He submits to be hustled by the 
 porters ; he hears nothing of the roaring of the steam ; for is she 
 not coming ashore at last ? And we know — or guess — that he 
 is looking out for some splendid creature, some Boadicea with
 
 MARY AVON, 9 
 
 stately tread and imperious mien, some Jeplitlia's daughter with 
 proud death in her eyes, some Rosamond of our modern days 
 with a glory of loveliness on her face and hair. And we know 
 that the master who has been lecturing us for half an hour on 
 our disgraceful neglect of pure English will not shock the sensi- 
 tive Southern ear by any harsh accent of the North, but will ad- 
 dress her in beautiful and courtly strains, in tones such as Edin- 
 burgh never knew. Where is the queen of womankind, amidst 
 all this commonplace, hurrying, loquacious crowd ? 
 
 And then the Laird, with a quick amazement in his eyes, sees 
 a small and insignificant person — he only catches a glimpse of 
 a black dress and a white face — suddenly clasped round in the 
 warm embrace of her friend. He stares for a second, and then 
 exclaims — apparently to himself : 
 
 " Dear me ! What a shilpit bit thing 1" 
 
 Pale — slight — delicate — tiny : surely such a master of idio- 
 matic English cannot have forgotten the existence of these words. 
 But this is all he cries to himself, in his surprise and wonder : 
 
 " Dear me ! What a shilpit bit thing !" 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MARY AVON. 
 
 The bright, frank laugh of her face ! the friendly, unhesitating, 
 affectionate look in those soft black eyes ! He forgot all about 
 Rosamond and Boadicea when he was presented to this "shilpit" 
 person. And when, instead of the usual ceremony of introduction, 
 she bravely put her hand in his, and said she had often heard of 
 him from their common friend, he did not notice that she was 
 rather plain. He did not even stop to consider in what degree 
 her Southern accent might be improved by residence among the 
 preservers of pure English, He was anxious to know if she was 
 not greatly tired. He hoped the sea had been smooth as the 
 steamer came past Easdale, And her luggage — should he look 
 after her luggage for her? 
 
 But Miss Avon was an expert traveller, and quite competent 
 to look after her own luggage. Even as he spoke, it was being 
 hoisted on to the wasonette.
 
 10 WHITE wings: a vachting romance. 
 
 " You will let me drive," says she, eying critically tlie two 
 shaggy, farm-looking animals. 
 
 " Indeed I shall do nothing of the kind," says her hostess, 
 promptly. 
 
 But there was no disappointment at all on her face as wc 
 drove away through the golden evening — by the side of the mur- 
 muring shore, past the overhanging fir-wood, up and across the 
 high land commanding a view of the wide western seas. There 
 was instead a look of such intense delight that we knew, how- 
 ever silent the lips might be, that the bird-soul was singing with- 
 in. Everything charmed her — the cool sweet air, the scent of 
 the sea-weed, the glow on the mountains out there in the west. 
 And as she chattered her delight to us, like a bird escaped from 
 its prison, and glad to get into the sunlight and free air again, 
 the Laird sat mute, and listened. He watched the frank, bright, 
 expressive face. He followed and responded to her every mood, 
 with a sort of fond paternal indulgence that almost prompted 
 him to take her hand. When she smiled, he laughed. When she 
 talked seriously, he looked concerned. He was entirely forgetting 
 that she was a " shilpit bit thing;" and he would have admitted 
 that the Southern way of speaking English — although, no doubt, 
 fallen away from the traditions of the Northumbrian dialect — had, 
 after all, a certain music in it that made it pleasant to the ear. 
 
 Up the hill, then, with a flourish for the last ! — the dust rolling 
 away in clouds behind us, the view over the Atlantic widening 
 as we ascend. And here is Castle Osprey, as wc have dubbed 
 the place, with its wide-open door, and its walls half hidden with 
 tree-fuchsias, and its great rose garden. Had fair Rosamond her- 
 self come to Castle Osprey that evening, she could not have been 
 waited on with greater solicitude than the Laird showed in as- 
 sisting this "shilpit bit thing" to alight — though, indeed, there 
 was a slight stumble, of which no one took any notice at the 
 time. He busied himself with her luggage quite unnecessarily. 
 He suggested a cup of tea, though it wanted but fifteen minutes 
 to dinner-time. He assured her that the glass was rising — which 
 was not the case. And wlien she was being hurried off to her 
 own room to prepare for diimer — by one who rules lier house- 
 hold with a rod of iron — he liad the effrontery to tell her to take 
 her own time : dinner could wait. The man actually proposed 
 to keep dinner waiting — in Castle Osprey !
 
 MARY AVON. 11 
 
 That this was love at first sight, who could doubt ? And per- 
 haps the nunble brain of one who was at this moment hurriedly 
 dressing in her own room — and whom nature has constituted an 
 indefatigable match-maker — may have been considering whether 
 this rich old bachelor might not marry, after all. And if he were 
 to marry, why should not he marry the young lady in whom he 
 seemed to have taken so sudden and warm an interest? And as 
 for her : Mary Avon was now two or three and twenty ; she was 
 not likely to prove attractive to young men ; her small fortune 
 was scarcely worth considering ; she was almost alone in the 
 world. Older men had married younger women. The Laird had 
 neither kith nor kin to inherit Denny-mains and his very sub- 
 stantial fortune. And would they not see plenty of each other 
 on board the yacht ? 
 
 But in her heart of hearts the schemer knew better. She knew 
 that the romance chapter in the Laird's life — and a bitter chapter 
 it was — had been finished and closed and put away many and 
 many a year ago. She knew how the great disappointment of 
 his life had failed to sour him ; how he was ready to share among 
 friends and companions the large and generous heart that should 
 never have been laid at the feet of a jilt ; how his keen and ac- 
 tive interest, that might have been confined to his children and 
 his children's children, was now devoted to a hundred things — 
 the planting at Denny-mains, the great heresy case, the patronage 
 of young artists, even the preservation of pure English, and what 
 not. And that fortunate young gentleman — ostensibly his neph- 
 ew — whom he had sent to Harrow and to Cambridge, who was 
 now living a very easy life in the Middle Temple, and who w'ould 
 no doubt come in for Denny -mains? AVellj we knew a little 
 about that young man, too. We knew why the Laird, when he 
 found that both the boy's father and mother were dead, adopted 
 him, and educated him, and got him to call him uncle. He had 
 taken under his care the son of the woman who had jilted him 
 five-and-thirty years ago : the lad had his mother's eyes. 
 
 And now we are assembled in the drawing-room — all except 
 the new guest; and the glow of the sunset is shining in at the 
 open windows. The Laird is eagerly proving to us that the 
 change from the cold east winds of Edinburgh to the warm w^est- 
 erly winds of the Highlands must make an immediate change in 
 the young lady's face, and declaring that she ought to go on
 
 12 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 board the yacht at once, and asserting that the ladies' cabin on 
 board the White Dove is the most beautiful little cabin he ever 
 saw, when — 
 
 When, behold ! at the open door, meeting the glow of the sun- 
 shine, appears a figure, dressed all in black velvet, plain and un- 
 adorned but for a broad belt of gold fringe that comes round the 
 neck and crosses the bosom. And above that again is a lot of 
 white muslin stuS, on which the small, shapely, smooth-dressed 
 head seems gently to rest. The plain black velvet dress gives a 
 certain importance and substantiality to the otherwise slight fig- 
 ure ; the broad fringe of gold glints and gleams as she moves to- 
 ward us ; but who can even think of these things when he meets 
 the brave glance of Mary Avon's eyes? She was humming, as 
 she came down the stair: 
 
 " think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa ; 
 For I'll come and see ye, in spite o' them a'." 
 
 We might have known it was the bird-soul come among us. 
 
 Now the manner in which the Laird of Denny-mains set about 
 capturing the affections of this innocent young thing, as he sat 
 opposite her at dinner, would have merited severe reproof in one 
 of less mature age, and might, indeed, have been followed by se- 
 rious consequences but for the very decided manner in which 
 Miss Avon showed that she could take care of herself. Whoever 
 heard Mary Avon laugh would have been assured. And she did 
 laugh a good deal ; for the Laird, determined to amuse her, was 
 relating a series of anecdotes, which he called "good ones," and 
 which seemed to have afforded great enjoyment to the people of 
 the south of Scotland during the last century or so. There was 
 in especial a Highland steward of a steamer about whom a vast 
 number of these stories was told ; and if the point was at times 
 rather difficult to catch, who could fail to be tickled by the 
 Laird's own and obvious enjoyment? "There was another good 
 one. Miss Avon," he would say ; and. then the bare memory of 
 the great facetiousness of the anecdote would break out in such 
 half-suppressed guffaws as altogether to stop the current of the 
 narrative. Miss Avon laughed — we could not quite toll whether 
 it was at the Highland steward or the Laird — until the tears ran 
 down her cheeks. Dinner was scarcely thought of. It was a 
 disrrraceful exhibition.
 
 MARY AVON. 13 
 
 " There was another good one about Homesh," said the Laird, 
 vainly endeavoring to suppress his huighter. " lie came up on 
 deck one enormously hot day, and looked ashore, and saw some 
 cattle standing knee-deep in a pool of water. Says he — ha ! ha ! 
 ha! — ho ! ho ! ho ! — says he — says he, ^Ah wish ah wass a stott /' 
 —he! he! he!— ho! ho! ho!" 
 
 Of course we all laughed heartily, and Mary Avon more than 
 any of us ; but if she had gone down on her knees and sworn 
 that she knew what the point of the story was, we should not 
 have believed her. But the Laird was delighted. He went on 
 Avith his good ones. The mythical Ilomesh and his idiotic ad- 
 ventures became portentous. The very serv'ants could scarcely 
 carry the dishes straight. 
 
 But in the midst of it all the Laird suddenly let his knife and 
 fork drop on his plate, and stared. Then he quickly exclaimed : 
 
 " Bless me, lassie !" 
 
 We saw in a second what had occasioned his alarm. The girl's 
 face had become ghastly white ; and she was almost falling away 
 from her chair, when her hostess, who happened to spring to her 
 feet first, caught her, and held her, and called for water. What 
 could it mean ? Mary Avon was not of the sighing and fainting 
 fraternity. 
 
 And presently she came to herself, and faintly making apolor 
 gies, would go from the room. It was her ankle, she murmured, 
 with the face still white from pain. But when she tried to rise, 
 she fell back again : the agony was too great. And so we had 
 to carry her. 
 
 About ten minutes thereafter the mistress of the house came 
 back to the Laird, who had been sitting by himself, in great con- 
 cern. 
 
 " That girl ! that girl !" she exclaims, and one might almost 
 imagine there are tears in her eyes. " Can you fancy such a 
 thing ! She twists her ankle in getting down from the wagonette, 
 brings back the old sprain — perhaps lames herself for life — and, 
 in spite of the pain, sits here laughing and joking, so that she 
 may not spoil our first evening together ! Did you ever hear of 
 such a thing ! Sitting here laughing, with her ankle swelled so 
 that I had to cut the boot off !" 
 
 " Gracious me !" says the Laird ; " is it as bad as that ?" 
 
 "And if she should become permanently lame, why — why — "
 
 14 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 But was she going to make an appeal direct to the owner of 
 Denny-mains? If the younger men were not likely to marry a 
 lame little white-faced girl, that was none of his business. The 
 Laird's marrying days had departed five-and-thirty years before. 
 
 However, we had to finish our dinner somehow, in considera- 
 tion to our guest. And then the surgeon came, and bound up 
 the foot and ankle hard and fast ; and Miss Avon, with a thousand 
 meek apologies for being so stupid, declared again and again that 
 her foot would be all right in the morning, and that we must get 
 ready to start. And when her friend assured her that this pre- 
 liminary canter of the yacht might just as well be put off for a 
 few days — until, for example, that young doctor from Edinburgh 
 came who had been invited to -go a proper cruise with us — her 
 distress was so great that we had to promise to start next day 
 punctually at ten. And so she sent us down again to amuse the 
 Laird. 
 
 But, hark ! what is this we hear, just as Denny-mains is having 
 his whiskey and hot water brought in ? It is a gay voice hum- 
 ming on the stairs : 
 
 " By the margin of fair Ziirich's waters." 
 
 "That girl!" cries her hostess, angrily, as she jumps to her 
 feet. 
 
 But the door opens, and here is Mary Avon, with calm self- 
 possession, making her way to a chair. 
 
 "I knew you wouldn't beHeve me," says she, coolly, "if I did 
 not come down, I tell you my foot is as well as may be ; and 
 Dot-and-carry-one will get down to the yacht in the morning as 
 easily as any of you. And that last story about Ilomesh," she 
 says to the Laird, with a smile in the soft black eyes that must 
 have made his heart jump — "really, sir, you must tell me the 
 ending of that story; it was so stupid of me !" 
 
 "Sliilpit" she may have been; but the Laird, for one, was be- 
 ginning to believe that this girl had the courage and nerve of a 
 dozen men.
 
 UNDER WAY. 15 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 rXDER WAY. 
 
 The first eager glance out on this brilliant and beautiful morn- 
 ing ; and behold ! it is all a wonder of blue seas and blue skies 
 that we find before us, with Lismore lying golden green in the 
 sunlight, and the great mountains of Mull and Morven shining 
 with the pale ethereal colors of the dawn. And what are the 
 rhymes that are ringing through one's brain — the echo of some- 
 thing heard far away among the islands — the islands that await 
 our coming in the west ? 
 
 " land of red heather ! 
 
 land of wild weather, 
 And the cry of the waves, and the laugh of the breeze ! 
 
 love, now, together 
 
 Through the wmd and wild weather 
 We spread our white wings to encounter the seas I" 
 
 Up and out, laggards, now ; and hoist this big red and blue 
 and white thing up to the head of the tall pole, that the lads far 
 below may know to send the gig ashore for us ! And there, on the 
 rufiled blue waters of the bay, behold ! the noble White Dove, 
 with her great main-sail and mizzen and jib all set and glowing 
 in the sun ; and the scarlet caps of the men are like points of 
 fire in this fair blue picture ; and the red ensign is fluttering in 
 the light north-westerly breeze. Breakfast is hurried over; and 
 a small person who has a passion for flowers is dashing hither 
 and thither in the garden until she has amassed an armful of 
 our old familiar friends — abundant roses, fuchsias, heart's -ease, 
 various colored columbine, and masses of southernwood to scent 
 our floating saloon ; the wagonette is at the door, to take our in- 
 valid down to the landing-slip ; and the Laird has discarded his 
 dignified costume, and appears in a shooting-coat and a vast gray 
 wide-awake. As for Mary Avon, she is laughing, chatting, sing- 
 ing, here, there, and everywhere — giving us to understand that a 
 sprained ankle is rather a pleasure than otherwise, and a great as-
 
 16 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 sistance in walking ; until the Laird pounces upon her — as one 
 might pounce on a butterfly — and imprisons her in the wagon- 
 ette, with many a serious warning about her imprudence. There 
 let her sing to herself as she likes, amidst the wild confusion of 
 things forgotten till the last moment, and thrust upon us just as 
 we start. 
 
 And here is the stalwart and brown-bearded Captain John — 
 John of Skye we call him — himself come ashore in the gig, in 
 all his splendor of blue and brass buttons ; and he takes off his 
 peaked cap to the mistress of our household — whom some of her 
 friends call Queen Titania, because of her midge-like size — and 
 he says to her, with a smile, 
 
 "And will Mrs. herself be going with us this time?" 
 
 That is Captain John's chief concern ; for he has a great re- 
 gard for this domineering small woman ; and shows his respect 
 for her, and his own high notions of courtesy, by invariably ad- 
 dressing her in the third person. 
 
 " Oh yes, John !" says she — and she can look pleasant enough 
 when she likes — " and this is a young friend of mine, Miss Avon, 
 whom you have to take great care of on board." 
 
 And Captain John takes off his cap again, and is understood 
 to tell the young lady that he will do his best, if she will excuse 
 his not knowing much English. Then, with great care, and with 
 some difficulty, Miss Avon is assisted down from the wagonette, 
 and conducted along the rough little landing -slip, and helped 
 into the stern of the shapely and shining gig. Away with her, 
 boys ! The splash of the oars is heard in the still bay ; the 
 shore recedes ; the white sails seem to rise higher into the blue 
 sky as we near the yacht : here is the black hull with its line of 
 gold — the gangway open — the ropes ready — the white decks 
 clear and shining. We are on board at last. 
 
 "And where will Mr. himself be for going?" asks John 
 
 of Skye, as the men arc hauling the gig up to the davits. 
 
 Mr. briefly but seriously explains to the captain that, 
 
 from some slight experience of the winds on this coast, he has 
 found it of about as much use to order the tides to be clianged 
 as to settle upon any definite route. But lie suggests the cir- 
 cumnavigation of Mull as a sort of preliminary canter for a few 
 day.s, until a certain notable guest shall arrive ; and he would 
 prefer going by the south, if the honorable winds will permit.
 
 UNDER WAV. 1 ( 
 
 Further, John of Skye is not to be afraid of a bit of sea, on ac- 
 count of either of those ladies ; both are excellent sailors. With 
 these somewhat vague instructions. Captain John is left to get 
 the yacht under way ; and we go below to look after the stowage 
 of our things in the various state-rooms. 
 
 And what is this violent altercation going on in the saloon ? 
 
 " I will not have a word said against my captain," says Mary 
 Avon, " I am in love with him already. His English is per- 
 fectly correct." 
 
 This impertinent minx talking about correct English in the 
 pi'esence of the Laird of Denny-mains ! 
 
 " ' Mrs. herself ' is perfectly correct ; it is only polite- 
 ness ; it is like saying 'Your Grace ' to a duke." 
 
 But who was denying it ? Surely not the imperious little 
 woman who was arranging her flowers on the saloon table ; nor 
 yet Denny-mains, who was examining a box of variegated and 
 recondite fishing-tackle ? 
 
 " It is all very well for fine ladies to laugh at the blunders of 
 servant - maids," continues this audacious girl, "'Miss Brown 
 presents her compliments to Miss Smith ; and would you be so 
 kind,' and so on. But don't they often make the same blunder 
 themselves ?" 
 
 Well, this was a discovery ! 
 
 " Doesn't Mrs. So-and-So or Lady So-and-So request the honor 
 of the company of Mr. So-and-So or Miss So-and-So ; and then 
 you find at the corner of the card ''R. S. V. P. ? Answer, if you 
 please !" 
 
 The darkness of a stricken conscience fell on us. This girl 
 was right. 
 
 But her triumph makes her considerate. She will not harry 
 us with scorn. 
 
 " It is becoming far less common now, however," she remarks, 
 " 'An answer is requested,' is much more sensible." 
 
 " It is English," says the Laird, with decision. " Surely it 
 must be more sensible for an English person to write English, 
 Ah never use a French word maself." 
 
 But what is the English that we hear now — called out on deck 
 by the voice of John of Skye ? 
 
 " Eachan, slack the lee topping-lift ! Ay, and the tackle, too. 
 That '11 do, boys. Down with your main tack now !"
 
 18 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 " Why," exclaims our sovereign mistresa^ who knows some- 
 thing of nautical matters, " we must have started !" 
 
 Then there is a tumbling up the companion-way ; and lo ! the 
 land is slowly leaving us, and there is a lapping of the blue water 
 along the side of the boat, and the white sails of the White Dove 
 are tilled with this gentle breeze. Deck -stools are arranged, 
 books and field-glasses and what not scattered about; Mary 
 Avon is helped on deck, and ensconced in a snug little camp- 
 chair. The days of our summer idleness have begun. 
 
 And as yet these are but familiar scenes that steal slowly by : 
 the long green island of Lismore — Lios-mor, the Great Garden ; 
 the dark ruins of Daart, sombre as if the shadow of nameless 
 tragedies rested on the crumbling walls ; Loch Don, with its sea- 
 bird-haunted shallows, and Loch Speliv, leading up to the awful 
 solitudes of Glen More ; and then, stretching far into the wreath- 
 ing clouds, the long rampart of precipices, rugged and barren 
 and lonely, that form the eastern wall of Mull. 
 
 There is no monotony ; the scene changes every moment, as 
 the light breeze bears us away to the south. For there is the 
 Sheep Island ; and Garveloch — which is the rough island ; and 
 Eilean-na-naomha — which is the island of the Saints. But what 
 are these to the small transparent cloud resting on the horizon? 
 — smaller than any man's hand. And the day is still, and the 
 seas are smooth : cannot we hear the mermaiden singing on the 
 far shores of Colonsay ? 
 
 " Colonsay !" exclaims the Laird, seizing a field-glass. " Dear 
 me ! Is that Colonsay ? And they telled me that Tom Galbraith 
 was going there this very year." 
 
 The piece of news fails to startle us altogether, though we 
 have heard the Laird speak of Mi-. Galbraith before. 
 
 "Ay," says he, "the world will know something o' Colonsay 
 when Tom Galbraith gets there." 
 
 " Whom did you say ?" Miss Avon asks. 
 
 " Why, Galbraith," says he. " Tom Galbraith." 
 
 The Laird stares in amazement. Is it possible she has not heard 
 of Tom Galbraith? And she herself an artist, and coming direct 
 from Edinburgh, where she has been living for two whole months! 
 
 "Gracious me!" says the Laird. "Ye do not say ye have 
 never heard of Galbraith? He's an Acadcmeccian — a Scottish 
 Acaderaeccian 1"
 
 UNDER WAY. 19 
 
 " Oh yes ; no doubt," she says, rather bewildered. 
 
 " There is no one living has had such an influence on our 
 Scotch school of painters as Galbraith — a man of great abcclity 
 — a man of great and uncommon abeclity ; he is one of the most 
 famous painters of our day." 
 
 " I scarcely met any one in Edinburgh," she pleads. 
 
 " But in London — in London !" exclaims the astonished Laird. 
 " Do ye mean to say you never heard o' Tom Galbraith ?" 
 
 " I — I think not," she confesses. " I — I don't remember his 
 name in the Academy catalogue — " 
 
 " The Royal Academy !" cries the Laird, with scorn. " No, 
 no. Ye need not expect that. The English Academy is afraid 
 of the Scotchmen : their pictures are too strong : you do not put 
 good honest whiskey beside small - beer. I say the English 
 Academy is afraid of the Scotch school — " 
 
 But flesh and blood can stand this no longer: we shall not 
 have Mary Avon trampled upon. 
 
 "Look here, Denny -mains: we always thought there was a 
 Scotchman or two in the Royal Academy itself — and quite capable 
 of holding their own there, too. Why, the President of the Acad- 
 emy is a Scotchman 1 And^as for the Academy exhibition, the very 
 walls are smothered with Scotch hills, Scotch spates, Scotch peas- 
 ants, to say nothing of the thousand herring-smacks of Tarbert." 
 
 " I tell ye they are afraid of Tom Galbraith ; they will not ex- 
 hibit one of his pictures," says the Laird, stubbornly. And here 
 the discussion is closed ; for Master Fred tinkles his bell below, 
 and we have to go down for luncheon. 
 
 It was most unfair of the wind to take advantage of our ab- 
 sence, and to sneak oS, leaving us in a dead calm. It was all 
 very well, when we came on deck again, to watch the terns dart- 
 ing about in their swallow-like fashion, and swooping down to 
 seize a fish ; and the strings of sea-pyots whirring by, with their 
 scarlet beaks and legs ; and the sudden shimmer and hissing of a 
 part of the blue plain, where a shoal of mackerel had come to the 
 surface ; but where were we, now in the open Atlantic, to pass 
 the night? We reUnquished the doubling of the Ross of Mull ; we 
 should have been content — more than content, for certain reasons* 
 
 * A health to you, madam ! — and to the Laird, tqp ; and may you live long 
 and prosper ! But, alas ! alas ! those rocks ! We were always afraid.
 
 20 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 — to have put into Carsaig; we were beginning even to liave 
 ignominious thoughts of Loch Buy. And yet we let the golden 
 evening draw on with comparative resignation ; and we watched 
 the color gathering in the west, and the Atlantic taking darker 
 hues, and a ruddy tinge beginning to tell on the seamed ridges 
 of Garveloch and the isle of Saints. AA'hen the wind sprung up 
 again — it had backed to due west, and we had to beat against it 
 with a series of long tacks, that took us down within sight of 
 Islay and back to Mull apparently all for nothing — we were deep- 
 ly engaged in prophesying all manner of things to be achieved 
 by one Angus Sutherland, an old friend of ours, though yet a 
 young man enough. 
 
 " Just fancy, sir !" says our hostess to the Laird — the Laird, 
 by-the-way, does not seem so enthusiastic as the rest of us when 
 he hears that this hero of modern days is about to join our party. 
 " What he has done beats all that I ever heard about Scotch Uni- 
 versity students ; and you know what some of them have done in 
 the face of difficulties. His father is a minister in some small 
 place in Banffshire ; perhaps he has £200 a year at the outside. 
 This son of his has not cost him a farthing for either his main- 
 tenance or his education since he was fourteen ; he took bursaries, 
 scholarships, I don't know what, when he was a mere lad ; sup- 
 ported himself and travelled all over Europe ; but I think it was 
 at Lcipsic and at Vienna he studied longest ; and the papers he 
 has written, the lectures, and the correspondence with all the great 
 scientific people ! When they made him a Fellow, all he said was, 
 " I wish my mother was alive." 
 
 This was rather an incoherent and jumbled account of a young 
 man's career. 
 
 "A Fellow of what!" says tlie Laird. 
 
 "A Fellow of the Royal Society! They made him a Fellow 
 of the Royal Society last year I And he is only seven-and-fwen- 
 ty ! I do believe he was not over one-and-twenty when he took 
 his degree at lidinburgh. And then — and then — there is really 
 nothing that he doesn't know : is there, Mary ?" 
 
 This sudden appeal causes Mary Avon to flush slightly ; but 
 she says, demurely, looking down, 
 
 " Of course I don't know anything that he doesn't know." 
 
 " IFm !" says the Laird, who docs not seem ovcrpleased. " I 
 have observed that young men who are too brilliant at the first
 
 UNDEK WAY. 21 
 
 seldom come to much afterward. Has he gained anything sub- 
 stantial? Has ho a good practice? Does he keep his carriage 
 yet?" 
 
 " No, no !" says our hostess, with a fine contempt for such 
 things. " He has a higher ambition than that. His practice is 
 almost nothing. He prefers to sacrifice that in the mean time. 
 But his reputation — among the scientific — why — why, it is Euro- 
 pean !" 
 
 " H'm !" says the Laird. " I have sometimes seen that persons 
 who gave themselves up to erudeetion lost the character of human 
 beings altogether. They become scientific machines. The world 
 is just made up of books for them — and lectures ; they would not 
 give a half-penny to a beggar for fear of poleetical economy — " 
 
 " Oh, how can you say such a thing of Angus Sutherland !" 
 says she, though he has said no such thing of Angus Sutherland. 
 " Why, here is this girl who goes to Edinburgh — all by herself — 
 to nurse an old woman in her last illness ; and as Angus Suther- 
 land is in Edinburgh on some business — connected with the Uni- 
 versity, I believe — I ask him to call on her and see if he can give 
 her any advice. What does he do ? He stops in Edinburgh two 
 months — editing that scientific magazine there instead of in Lon- 
 don — and all because he has taken an interest in the old woman, 
 and thinks that Mary should not have the whole responsibility on 
 her shoulders. Is that like a scientific machine?" 
 
 "No," says the Laird, with a certain calm grandeur; "you do 
 not often find young men doing that for the sake of an old w^om- 
 an." But of course we don't know what he means. 
 
 "And I am so glad he is coming to us!" says she, with real 
 delight in her face. " We sliall take him away from his micro- 
 scopes, and his societies, and all that. Oh, and he is such a de- 
 lightful companion — so simple, and natural, and straightforward ! 
 Don't you think so, Mary ?" 
 
 Mary Avon is understood to assent : she does not say much — 
 she is so deeply interested in a couple of porpoises that appear 
 from time to time on the smooth plain of the sea. 
 
 " I am sure a long holiday would do him a world of good," 
 says this eager hostess ; " but that is too much to expect. He is 
 always too busy. I think he has got to go over to Italy soon, 
 about some exhibition of surgical instruments, or something of 
 
 that sort." 
 
 2
 
 22 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 We tad plenty of further talk about Angus Sutherland, and of 
 the wonderful future that lay before him, that evening before we 
 tinally put into Loch Buy. And there we dined ; and after din- 
 ner we found the wan, clear twilight filling the northern heavens, 
 over the black range of mountains, and throwing a silver glare on 
 the smooth sea around us. We could have read on deck at elev- 
 en at night, had that been necessary ; but Mary Avon was hum- 
 ming snatches of songs to us, and the Laird was discoursing of 
 the wonderful influence exerted on Scotch landscape art by Tom 
 Galbraith. Then in the south the yellow moon rose ; and a gold- 
 en lane of light lay on the sea, from the horizon across to the 
 side of the yacht; and there was a strange glory on the decks 
 and on the tall, smooth masts. The peace of that night! — the 
 soft air, the silence, the dreamy lapping of the water ! 
 
 "And whatever lies before Angus Sutherland," says one of us 
 — " whether a baronetcy, or a big fortune, or a marriage with an 
 Italian princess, he won't find anything better than a cruise in 
 the White DoveP 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A MESSAGE. 
 
 What fierce commotion is this that awakes us in the morning 
 — what pandemonium broken loose of wild storm-sounds — with 
 the stately White Dove, ordinarily the most sedate and gentle of 
 her sex, apparently gone mad, and flinging herself about as if 
 bent -on somersaults? When one clambers up the companion- 
 way, clinging hard, and puts one's head out into the gale, be- 
 hold 1 there is not a trace of land visible anywhere — nothing but 
 whirling clouds of mist and rain ; and mountain masses of waves 
 that toss the White Dove about as if she were a plaything ; and 
 decks all running wet with the driven spray. John of Skye, clad 
 from head to heel in black oil-skins — and at one moment up in 
 the clouds, the next moment descending into the great trough of 
 the sea — hangs on to the rope that is twisted round the tiller, and 
 laughs a good-morning, and shakes the salt-water from his shaggy 
 eyebrows and beard. 
 
 " llalloo ! John — where on earth have we got to ?"
 
 A MESSAGE. 23 
 
 "Ay, ay, sir." 
 
 " I say, WHERE ARE WE ?" is shoutcd, for the roar of the rusli- 
 ing Atlantic is deafening. 
 
 " 'Deed I not think we are far from Loch Buy," says John 
 of Skye, grimly. " The wind is dead ahead of us — ay, shist dead 
 ahead !" 
 
 " What made you come out against a head-wind, then ?" 
 
 "When we cam' out," says John, picking his English, "the 
 wind will be from the norse — ay, a fine light breeze from the 
 
 norse. And will Mr. himself be for going on now ? — it is 
 
 a ferry bad sea for the leddies — a ferry coorse sea." 
 
 But it appears that this conversation — bawled aloud — has been 
 overheard. There are voices from below. The skylight of the 
 ladies' cabin is partly open. 
 
 " Don't mind us," calls Mary Avon. " Go on, by all means !" 
 
 The other voice calls : 
 
 " Why can't you keep this fool of a boat straight ? Ask him 
 when we shall be into the Sound of lona." 
 
 One might as well ask him when we shall be into the Sound of 
 Jericho or Jerusalem. With half a gale of wind right in our teeth, 
 and with the heavy Atlantic swell running, we might labor here 
 all day — and all the night too — without getting round the Ross 
 of Mull. There is nothing for it but to turn and run, that we 
 may have our breakfast in peace. Let her away, then, you brave 
 John of Skye ! — slack out the main-sheet, and give her plenty of 
 it, too : then at the same moment Sandy from Islay perceives that 
 a haul at the weather topping-lift will clear the boom from the 
 davits; and now, good Master Fred — our much -esteemed and 
 shifty Fricdrich d'or — if you will but lay the cloth on the table, 
 we will help you to steady the dancing phantasmagoria of plates 
 and forks ! 
 
 " Dear me !" says the Laird, when we are assembled together, 
 " it has been an awful night !" 
 
 " Oh, I hope you have not been ill !" says his hostess, with a 
 quick concern in the soft, clear eyes. 
 
 He does not look as if he had suffered much. He is content- 
 edly chipping an egg, and withal keeping an eye on the things 
 near him ; for the White Dove, still plunging a good deal, threat- 
 ens at times to make of everything on the table a movable feast. 
 
 " Oh no, ma'am, not ill," he says ; " but at my time of life, ye
 
 24 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 see, one is not as light in weight as one used to be ; and the way 
 I was flung about in that cabin last night was just extraordinary. 
 When I was trying to put on my boots this morning, I am sure 
 I resembled nothing so much as a pea in a bladder — indeed, it 
 was so — I was knocked about like a pea in a bladder." 
 
 Of course we expressed great sympathy, and assured him that 
 the White Dove — famed all along this coast for her sober and 
 steady-going behavior — would never act so any more. 
 
 "However," said he, thoughtfully, "the wakefulness of the 
 night is often of use to people. Yes, I have come to a decision." 
 
 We were somewhat alarmed. AVas he going to leave us merely 
 because of this bit of tossing ? 
 
 " I dare say ye know, ma'am," says he, slowly, "that I am one 
 of the Commissioners of the Burgh of Strathgovan. It is a posee- 
 tion of grave responsibility. This very question now — about our 
 getting a steam fire-engine — has been weighing on my mind for 
 many a day. Well, I have decided I will no longer oppose it. 
 They may have the same fire-engine, as far as I am concerned." 
 
 We felt greatly relieved. 
 
 " Yes," continued the Laird, solemnly ; " I think I am doing 
 my duty in this matter as a public man should — laying aside his 
 personal prejudice. But the cost of it ! Do ye know that we 
 shall want bigger nozzles to all the fire-plugs ?" 
 
 Matters were looking grave again. 
 
 "However," said the Laird, cheerfully — for he would not de- 
 press us too much — " it may all turn out for the best ; and I will 
 telegraph my decision to Strathgovan as soon as ever the storm 
 allows us to reach a port." 
 
 The storm, indeed ! WHicn we scramble up on deck again, we 
 find that it is only a brisk sailing breeze we have ; and the White 
 Dove is bowling merrily along, flinging high the white spray from 
 her bows. And then we begin to see that, despite those driving 
 mists around us, there is really a fine, clear summer day shining 
 far above this twopenny-halfpenny tempest. The whirling mists 
 break here and there, and we catch glimpses of a placid blue sky, 
 flecked with lines of motionless cirrhus cloud. The breaks in- 
 crease; floods of sunshine fall on the gleaming decks; clearer and 
 clearer become the vast precipices of southern Mull ; and then, 
 when we get well to the lee of Eilean-straid-can, behold ! the blue 
 seas around us once more, and the blue skies overhead, and the
 
 A MESSAGE. 25 
 
 red ensign fluttering in the summer breeze. No wonder that Mary 
 Avon sings her delight — as a linnet sings after the rain; and 
 though the song is not meant for us at all, but is really hummed 
 to herself as she clings on to the shrouds and watches the flash- 
 ing and dipping of the white-wingod gulls, we know that it is all 
 about a jolly young waterman. The audacious creature : John of 
 Skye has a wife and four children. 
 
 Too quickly, indeed, does the fair summer day go by — as we 
 pass the old familiar Duart, and begin to beat up the Sound of 
 Mull against a fine, light sailing breeze. B}' the time we have 
 reached Ardtornish, the Laird has acquired some vague notion as 
 to how the gaff top-sail is set. Opposite the dark green woods 
 of Funeray, he tells us of the extraordinary faculty possessed by 
 Tom Galbraith of representing the texture of foliage. At Salen 
 we have Master Fred's bell summoning us down to lunch ; and 
 thereafter, on deck, coffee, draughts, crochet, and a profoundly 
 interesting description of some of the knotty points in the great 
 Semple heresy case. And here, again, as we bear away over al- 
 most to the mouth of Loch Sunart, is the open Atlantic — of a 
 breezy gray under the lemon-color and silver of the calm evening 
 sky. What is the use of going on against this contrary wind, 
 and missing, in the darkness of the night, all the wonders of the 
 western islands that the Laird is anxious to see ? We resolve to 
 run into Tobermory ; and by-and-by we find ourselves under the 
 shadow of the wooded rocks, with the little white town shining 
 along the semicircle of the bay. And very cleverly indeed does 
 John of Skye cut in among the various craft — showing off a little 
 bit, perhaps — until the White Dove is brought up to the wind, 
 and the great anchor cable goes out with a roar. 
 
 Now it was by the merest accident that we got at Tobermory 
 a telegram that had been forwarded that very day to meet us on 
 our return voyage. There was no need for any one to go ashore, 
 for we were scarcely in port before a most praiseworthy gentle- 
 man was so kind as to send us on board a consignment of fresh 
 flowers, vegetables, milk, eggs, and so forth — the very things tliat 
 become of inestimable value to yachting people. However, we 
 had two women on board ; and of course — despite a certain ban- 
 daged ankle — they must needs go shopping. And Mary Avon, 
 when we got ashore, would buy some tobacco for her favorite 
 Captain John, and went into the post-oflice for that purpose, and
 
 26 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 was having tlie black stuflE measured out by tlie yard, when some 
 mention was made of the White Dove. Then a question Avas 
 asked ; there was a telegram ; it was handed to Miss Avon, who 
 opened it and read it. 
 
 " Oh !" said she, looking rather concerned ; and then she re- 
 garded her friend with some little hesitation. 
 
 " It is my uncle," she says ; " he wants to see me on very ur- 
 gent business. He is — coming — to see me — the day after to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Blank consternation followed this announcement. This person, 
 even though he was Mary Avon's sole surviving relative, was quite 
 intolerable to us. East Wind we had called him in secret, on the 
 few occasions on which he had darkened our doors. And just as 
 we were making up our happy family party — with the Laird, and 
 Mary, and Angus Sutherland — to sail away to the far Hebrides, 
 here was this insufferable creature — with his raucous voice, his 
 washed-out eyes, his cropped yellow-white hair, his supercilious 
 manner, his bull-dog face, and general groom or butler-like ap- 
 pearance — thrusting himself on us ! 
 
 " Well, you know, Mary," says her hostess, entirely concealing 
 her dismay in her anxious politeness, *' we shall almost certainly 
 be home by the day after to-morrow, if we get any wind at all. 
 So you had better telegraph to your uncle to come on to Castle 
 Osprey, and to wait for you if you are not there ; we cannot be 
 much longer than that. And Angus Sutherland will be there; he 
 will keep him company until we arrive." 
 
 So that was done, and we went on board again — one of us 
 meanwhile vowing to himself that ere ever Mr. Frederick Sme- 
 thurst set sail with us on board the White Dove, a rifle -bullet 
 through her hull would send that gallant vessel to the lobsters. 
 
 Now what do you think our Mary Avon set to work to do — all 
 during this beautiful summer evening, as we sat on deck and eyed 
 curiously the other craft in the bay, or watched the firs grow dark 
 against the silver-yellow twilight? We could not at first make 
 out what she was driving at. Her occupation in the world, so far 
 as she had any — beyond being the pleasantest of companions and 
 the faithfullcst of friends — was the painting of landscapes in oil, 
 not the construction of Frankenstein monsters. But here she be- 
 gins by declaring to us that there is one type of character that 
 has never been described by any satirist, or dramatist, or fictionist
 
 A MESSAGE. 27 
 
 — a common typo, too, though only becoming pronounced in rare 
 instances. It is the moral Tartuffc, she declares — the person who 
 is through and through a hypocrite, not to cloak evil doings, but 
 only that his eager love of approbation may be gratified. Look 
 now how this creature of diseased vanity, of plausible manners, of 
 pretentious humbug, rises out of the smoke like the figure sum- 
 moned by a wizard's wand ! As she gives us little touches here 
 and there of the ways of this professor of bonhomie — this bundle 
 of affectations — we begin to prefer the most diabolical villany 
 that any thousand of the really wicked Tartuffes could have com- 
 mitted. He grows and grows. His scraps of learning, as long 
 as those more ignorant than himself are his audience ; his mock 
 humility anxious for praise ; his parade of generous and senten- 
 tious sentiment; his pretence — pretence — pretence — all arising 
 from no evil machinations whatever, but from a pitiable, and mor- 
 bid, and restless craving for esteem. Hence, horrible shadow ! 
 Let us put out the candles and get to bed. 
 
 But next morning, as we find ourselves out on the blue Atlantic 
 again, with Ru-na-Gaul light-house left far behind, and the pale 
 line of Coll at the horizon, we begin to see why the skill and 
 patient assiduity of this amateur psychologist should have raised 
 that ghost for us the night before. Her uncle is coming. He 
 is not one of the plausible kind. And if it should be necessary 
 to invite him on board, might we not the more readily tolerate 
 his cynical rudeness, after we have been taught to abhor as the 
 hatefullest of mortals the wxll-meaning hypocrite whose vanity 
 makes his life a bundle of small lies ? Very clever indeed, Miss 
 Avon — very clever. But don't you raise any more ghosts ; they 
 are unpleasant company, even as an antidote. 
 
 And now, John of Skye, if it must be that we are to encounter 
 this pestilent creature at the end of our voyage, clap on all sail 
 now, and take us right royally down through these far islands of 
 the west. Ah ! do we not know them of old ? Soon as we get 
 round the Cailleach Point we descry the nearest of them amidst 
 the loneliness of the wide Atlantic sea. For there is Carnaburg, 
 with her spur of rock ; and Fladda, long, and rugged, and bare ; 
 and Lunga, with her peak ; and the Dutchman's Cap — a pale 
 blue in the south. How bravely the White Dove swings on her 
 way — springing like a bird over the western swell ! And as we 
 get past Ru-Treshnish, behold ! another group of islands — Gome-
 
 28 M^HITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCK. 
 
 tra and the green-shored Ulva, that guard tlie entrance to Loch 
 Tua ; and Colonsay, the haunt of the sea-birds ; and the rock of 
 Erisgeir — all shining in the sun. And then we hear a strange 
 sound, different from the light rush of the waves — a low, and 
 sullen, and distant booming, such as one hears in a sea-shell. As 
 the White Dove ploughs on her way we come nearer and nearer 
 to this wonder of the deep — the ribbed and fantastic shores of 
 Staffa; and we see how the great Atlantic rollers, making for the 
 giant cliffs of Gribun and Burg, are caught by those outer rocks 
 and torn into masses of white foam, and sent roaring and thunder- 
 ing into the blackness of the caves. We pass close by ; the air 
 trembles with the shock of that mighty surge ; there is a mist of 
 spray rising into the summer air. And then we sail away again ; 
 and the day wears on as the white-winged White Dove bounds 
 over the heavy seas ; and Mary Avon — as we draw near the Ross 
 of Mull, all glowing in the golden evening — is singing a song of 
 Ulva. 
 
 But there is no time for romance, as the White Dove (draw- 
 ing eight feet of water) makes in for the shallow harbor outside 
 Bunessan. 
 
 " Down foresail !" calls out our John of Skye ; and by-and-by 
 her head comes up to the wind, the great main-sail flapping in 
 the breeze. And again, " Down chub, boys !" and there is an- 
 other rattle and roar amidst the silence of this solitary little bay. 
 The herons croak their fright and fly away on heavy wing; the 
 curlews whistle shrilly; the sea-pyots whir along the lonely 
 shores. And then our good Friedrich d'or sounds his silver- 
 toned bell. 
 
 The stillness of this summer evening on deck ; tlie glory deep- 
 ening over the wide Atlantic ; the delightful laughter of the 
 Laird over those " good ones " about Iloincsh ; the sympathetic 
 glance of Mary Avon's soft black eyes: did we not value them 
 all the more that we knew we liad something far different to 
 look forward to ? Even as we idled away the beautiful and 
 lambent night, we had a vague consciousness that our enemy was 
 stealthily drawing near. In a day or two at the most we should 
 find the grim spectre of the East Wind in the rose-garden of 
 Castle Osprey.
 
 A BRAVE CAREER. 29 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A BRAVE CAREER. 
 
 But when we got on deck tlie next morning we forgot all 
 about the detestable person who was about to break in upon 
 our peace (there was small chance that our faithful Angus 
 Sutherland might encounter the snake in this summer paradise, 
 and trample on him, and pitch him out ; for this easy way of 
 getting rid of disagreeable folk is not permitted in the High- 
 lands nowadays) as we looked on the beautiful bay shining all 
 around us. 
 
 " Dear me !" said Denny-mains, " if Tom Galbraith could only 
 see that now ! It is a great peety he has never been to this 
 coast. I'm thinking I must write to him." 
 
 The Laird did not remember that we had an artist on board — 
 one who, if she was not so great an artist as Mr. Galbraith, had 
 at least exhibited one or two small landscapes in oil at the Royal 
 Academy. But then the Academicians, though they might dread 
 the contrast between their own work and that of Tom Galbraith, 
 could have no fear of Mary Avon. 
 
 And even Mr. Galbraith himself might have been puzzled to 
 find among his pigments any equivalent for the rare and clear 
 colors of this morning scene as now we sailed away from Bunes- 
 san with a light top-sail breeze. How blue the day was — blue 
 skies, blue seas, a faint transparent blue along the cliffs of 
 Bourg and Gribun, a darker blue where the far Ru-Treshanish 
 ran out into the sea, a shadow of blue to mark where the caves 
 of Staffa retreated from the surface of the sun -brown rocks! 
 And here, nearer at hand, the warmer colors of the shore — the 
 soft, velvety olive-greens of the moss and breckan ; the splashes 
 of lilac where the rocks were bare of herbage ; the tender sunny 
 reds where the granite promontories ran out to the sea ; the 
 beautiful cream whites of the sandy bays ! Here, too, are the 
 islands again as we get out into the open — Gometra, with its one 
 white house at the point ; and Inch Kenneth, where the seals
 
 30 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 stow their shining black heads among the shallows ; and Eris- 
 geii" and Colonsay, where the skarts alight to dry their wings on 
 the rocks ; and Stafia, and Lunga, and the Dutchman lying 
 peaceful enough now on the calm blue seas. We have time to 
 look at them, for the wind is slight, and the broad -beamed 
 White Dove is not a quick sailer in a light breeze. The best 
 part of the forenoon is over before we find ourselves opposite to 
 the gleaming white sands of the northern bays of lona. 
 
 "But surely both of us together will be able to make him 
 stay longer than ten days," says the elder of the two women to 
 the younger-^ and you may be sure she was not speaking of 
 East Wind. 
 
 Mary Avon looks up with a start; then looks down again — 
 perhaps with the least touch of color in her face — as she says, 
 hurriedly, " Oh, I think you will. He is your friend. As for 
 me — you see — I — I scarcely know him." 
 
 " Oh, Mary !" says the other, reproachfully. " You have been 
 meeting him constantly all these two months : you must know 
 him better than any of us. I am sure I wish he was on board 
 now — he could tell us all about the geology of the islands, and 
 what not. It will be delightful to have somebody on board who 
 knows something." 
 
 Such is the gratitude of women! — and the Laird had just 
 been describing to her some further points of the famous heresy 
 case. 
 
 "And then he knows Gaelic!" says the elder woman. "He 
 will tell us what all the names of the islands moan." 
 
 " Oh yes," says the younger one, " he understands Gaelic very 
 well, though he cannot speak much of it." 
 
 "And I think he is very fond of boats," remarks our hostess. 
 
 "Oh, exceedingly — exceedingly!" says the other, who, if she 
 does not know Angus .Sutherland, seems to have picked up some 
 information about him somehow. " You cannot imagine how he 
 has been looking forward to sailing with you; he has scarcely 
 had any holiday for years." 
 
 "Then he must stay longer than ten days," says the elder 
 woman ; adding, with a smile, " you know, Mary, it is not the 
 number of his patients that will hurry him back to London." 
 
 " Oh, but I assure you," says Miss Avon, seriously, " that he 
 is not at all anxious to have many patients — as yet. Oh no — I
 
 A BRAVE CAREER. 31 
 
 never knew any one wlio was so indifferent about money. I 
 know he would live on bread and water — if that were necessary 
 — to go on with his researches. He told me himself that all the 
 time he was at Leipsic his expenses were never more than one 
 pound a week." 
 
 She seemed to know a good deal about the circumstances of 
 this young F.R.S. 
 
 " Look at what he has done with those ana3sthetics," continues 
 Miss Avon. " Isn't it better to find out something that does 
 good to the whole world than give yourself up to making money 
 by wheedling a lot of old women ?" 
 
 This estimate of the physician's art was not flattering. 
 
 " But," she says, warmly, " if the Government had any sense, 
 that is just the sort of man they would put in a position to go 
 on with his invaluable work. And Oxford and Cambridge, with 
 all their wealth, they scarcely even recognize the noblest profes- 
 sion that a man can devote himself to — when even the poor 
 Scotch universities and the universities all over Europe have al- 
 ways had their medical and scientific chairs. I think it is per- 
 fectly disgraceful." 
 
 Since when had she become so strenuous an advocate of the 
 endowment of research ? 
 
 " Why, look at Dr. Sutherland — when he is burning to get on 
 with his own proper work, when his name is beginning to be 
 known all over Europe — he has to fritter away his time in edit- 
 ing a scientific magazine and in those hospital lectures. And 
 that, I suppose, is barely enough to live on. But I know," she 
 says, with decision, "that in spite of everything — I know that 
 before he is five-and-thirty he will be President of the British 
 Association." 
 
 Here, indeed, is a brave career for the Scotch student : cannot 
 one complete the sketch as it roughly exists in the minds of 
 those two women ? 
 
 At twenty-one, B.M. of Edinburgh. 
 
 At twenty-six, F.R.S. 
 
 At thirty, Professor of Biology at Oxford : the chair founded 
 through the intercession of the women of Great Britain. 
 
 At thirty-five, President of the British Association. 
 
 At forty, a baronetcy, for further discoveries in the region of 
 anaesthetics.
 
 32 AvniTE WINGS : a yachting romance. 
 
 At forty -five, consulting physician to half the gouty gentle- 
 men of England, and amassing an immense fortune. 
 At fifty- 
 Well, at fifty, is it not time that " the poor Scotch student," 
 now become great and Jamous and wealthy, should look around 
 for some beautiful princess to share his high estate with him ? 
 He has not had time before to think of such matters. But what 
 is this now ? Is it that microscopes and test-tubes have dimmed 
 his eyes? Is it that honors and responsibilities have silvered his 
 hair? Or is the drinking deep of the Pactolus stream a deadly 
 poison ? There is no beautiful princess awaiting him anywhere. 
 He is alone among his honors. There was once a beautiful prin- 
 cess — beautiful-souled and tender-eyed, if not otherwise too love- 
 ly — awaiting him among the Western seas; but that time is 
 over and gone man}'^ a year ago. The opportunity has passed. 
 Ambition called him away, and he left her ; and the last he saw 
 of her was when he bade good-bye to the White Dove. 
 
 AVhat have we to do with these idle dreams ? We are getting 
 within sight of lona village now ; and the sun is shining on the 
 green shores, and on the ruins of the old cathedral, and on that 
 white house just above the cornfield.* And as there is no good 
 anchorage about the island, we have to make in for a little creek 
 on the Mull side of the Sound, called Polterriv, or the Bull-hole ; 
 and this creek is narrow, tortuous, and shalloAv ; and a yacht 
 drawing eight feet of water has to be guided with some circum- 
 spection, especially if you go up to the inner harbor above the 
 rock called the Little Bull. And so we make inquiries of John 
 of Skye, who has not been with us here before. It is even hint- 
 ed that if he is not quite sure of the channel, we might send 
 the gig over to lona for John Macdonald, who is an excellent 
 pilot. 
 
 "John Macdonald!" exclaims John of Skye, whose professional 
 pride has been wounded. "Will John Macdonald be doing any- 
 thing more than I wass do myself in the Bull-hole — ay, last year 
 — last year I will tek my own smack out of the Bull-hole at the 
 
 * How do you do, captain? And is the deck-liouse still in the garden, 
 and do you sleep on board when you slei'p ashore? And the charming 
 young hostess, too: has she got a spirit license yet from the Duke? We 
 wave a handkerchief to vou !
 
 A BRAVE CAREER. 33 
 
 norse end, and ferry near low water, too ; and her deep-loaded? 
 Oh yes, I will be knowing the Bull-hole this many a year." 
 
 And John of Skye is as good as his word. Favored by a 
 flood-tide, -we steal gently into the unfrequented creek, behind 
 the great rocks of red granite; and so extraordinarily clear is 
 the water that, standing upright on the deck, we can see the 
 white sand of the bottom, with shoals of young saithc darting 
 this way and that. And then just as we get opposite an opening 
 in the rocks, through which we can descry the northern shores of 
 lona, and above those the blue peak of the Dutchman, away goes 
 the anchor with a short, quick rush ; her head swings round to 
 meet the tide; the White Dove is safe from all the winds that 
 blow. Now lower away the gig, boys, and bear us over the blue 
 waters of the Sound ! 
 
 "I am really afraid to begin," Mary Avon says, as we remon- 
 strate with her for not having touched a color -tube since she 
 started. " Besides, you know, I scarcely look on it that we have 
 really set out yet. This is only a sort of shaking ourselves into 
 our places. I am only getting accustomed to the ways of our 
 cabin now. I shall scarcely consider that we have started on our 
 real voyaging until — " 
 
 Oh yes ! we know very well. Until we have got Angus Suther- 
 land on board. But what she really said was, after slight hesitation : 
 
 " — Until we set out for the Northern Hebrides." 
 
 " Ay, it's a good thing to feel nervous about beginning," says 
 the Laird, as the long sweep of the four oars brings us nearer 
 and nearer to the lona shores. " I have often heard Tom Gal- 
 braith say that to the younger men. He says if a young man is 
 over-confident he'll come to nothing. But there was a good one 
 I once heard Galbraith tell about a young man that was pentin at 
 Tarbert — that's Tarbert on Loch Fyne, Miss Avon. Ay, well, he 
 was pentin away, and he was putting in the young lass of the 
 house as a fisher-lass ; and he asked her if she could not get a 
 creel to strap on her back, as a background for her head, ye know. 
 Well, says she — " 
 
 Here the fierce humor of the story began to bubble up in the 
 Laird's blue-gray eyes. We were all half laughing already. It 
 was impossible to resist the glow of delight on the Laird's face, 
 
 " Says she — just as pat as ninepence — says she, ' It's your ain 
 head that wants a creel !' "
 
 34 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTINa ROMANCE. 
 
 The explosion was inevitable. The roar of laughter at this 
 good one was so infectious that a subdued smile played over the 
 rugged features of John of Skje. " ' Ifs your ain head that wants 
 a creel P" The Laird laughed, and laughed again, until the last 
 desperately suppressed sounds were something like kee ! kee ! kee ! 
 Even Mary Avon pretended to understand. 
 
 " There was a real good one," says he, obviously overjoyed to 
 have so appreciative an audience, " that I mind of reading in the 
 Dean's Reminiscences. It was about an old leddy in Edinburgh 
 who met in a shop a young officer she had seen before. He was 
 a tall young man, and she eyed him from head to heel, and says 
 she — ha ! ha ! — says she, ' Od, ye' re a lang lad : God gie ye grace.'' 
 Dry, very dry, wasn't it? There was real humor in that — a 
 pawky humor that people in the South cannot understand at all. 
 'Of/,' says she, ''ye're a lang lad: God grant ye grace.'' There 
 was a great dale of character in that." 
 
 We were sure of it; but still we preferred the Laird's stories 
 about Ilomesh. We invariably liked best the stories at which 
 the Laird laughed most, whether wc quitic understood their pawky 
 humor or not. 
 
 " Dr. Sutherland has a great many stories about the Highland- 
 ers," says Miss Avon, timidly : "they are very amusing." 
 
 "As far as I have observed," remarked the Laird — for how 
 could he relish the notion of having a rival anecdote-monger on 
 board? — "as far as I have observed, the Highland character is 
 entirely without humor. Ay, I have heard Tom Galbraith say 
 that very often, and he has been everywhere in the Highlands." 
 
 " Well, then," says Mary Avon, with a quick warmth of indig- 
 nation in her face — how rapidly those soft dark eyes could change 
 their expression ! — "I hope Mr. Galbraith knows more about 
 painting than he knows about the Highlanders ! I thought that 
 anybody wlio knows anything knows that the Celtic nature is full 
 of imagination, and humor, and j)ath()s, and poetry ; and the Saxon 
 — the Saxon ! — it is his business to plod over ploughed fields, and 
 be as dull and commonplace as the other animals he sees there !" 
 
 Gracious goodness! — here was a tempest! The Laird was 
 speechless ; for, indeed, at this moment we bumped against the 
 sacred shores — that is to say, the landing-slip of Tona — and had 
 to scramble on to the big stones. Then we walked up and past 
 the cottages, and through the potato field, and past the white inn,
 
 A BRAVE CAREER. 35 
 
 and so to the hallowed shrine and its graves of the kings. AVe 
 spent the whole of the afternoon there. 
 
 When we got back to the yacht and to dinner, we discovered 
 that a friend had visited us in our absence, and had left of his 
 largesse behind him — nasturtiums and yellow-and-white pansies, 
 and what not — to say nothing of fresh milk, and crisp, delightful 
 lettuce. We drank his health. 
 
 Was it the fear of some one breaking in on our domestic peace 
 that made that last evening among the Western islands so lovely 
 to us ? We went out in the gig after dinner ; the Laird put forth 
 his engines of destruction to encompass the innocent lythe ; we 
 heard him humming the " Haughs o' Cromdale" in the silence. 
 The wonderful glory of that evening ! — lona become an intense 
 olive-green against the gold and crimson of the sunset, the warm 
 flight shining along the red granite of western Mull. Then the 
 yellow moon rose in the south — into the calm violet-hued vault 
 of the heavens ; and there was a golden fire on the ripples and 
 on the wet blades of the oars as we rowed back with laughter 
 
 and singing. 
 
 "Sing tantara! singtautara! 
 Sing tantara ! sing tantara ! 
 
 Said he, the Highland army rues 
 That e'er they came to Cromdale 1" 
 
 And then, next morning, we were up at five o'clock. If we 
 were going to have a tooth pulled, why not have the little inter- 
 view over at once ? East W' ind would be waiting for us at Cas- 
 tle Osprey. 
 
 Blow, soft westerly breeze, then, and bear us down by Fion- 
 phort, and round the granite Ross — shining all a pale red in the 
 early dawn. And here is Ardalanish Point ; and there, as the 
 morning goes by, are the Carsaig arches, and then Loch Buy, and 
 finally the blue Firth of Lorn. Northward, now, and still north- 
 ward, until, far away, the white house shining amidst the firs, and 
 the flag fluttering in the summer air. Have they descried us, 
 then ? Or is the bunting hoisted in honor of guests ? The pale 
 cheek of Mary Avon tells a tale as she descries that far signal ; 
 but that is no business of ours. Perhaps it is only of her uncle 
 that she is thinking.
 
 30 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING KOMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 Behold, now ! tliis beautiful garden of Castle Osprey all ablaze 
 in tbe sun ; the roses, pausies, poppies, and what not bewildering 
 our eyes after the loug looking at the blue water ; and in the 
 midst of the brilliant paradise — just as we had feared — the snake ! 
 He did not scurry away at our approach, as snakes are wont to 
 do, or raise his horrent head and hiss. The fact is, we found him 
 comfortably seated under a drooping ash, smoking. He rose and 
 explained that he had strolled up from the shore to await our 
 coming. He did not seem to notice that Mary Avon, as she 
 came along, had to walk slowly, and was leaning on the arm of 
 the Laird. 
 
 Certainly nature had not been bountiful to this tall, spare per- 
 son who had now come among us. At first sight he looked al- 
 most like an albino — his yellow-white, closely cropped head, a 
 certain raw appearance of the face, as if perpetual east winds had 
 chafed the skin, and weak gray eyes that seemed to fear the light. 
 But the albino look had nothing to do with the pugilist's jaw, 
 and the broken nose, and the general hangdog scowl about the 
 mouth. For the rest Mr. Sinethurst seemed desirous of making 
 up for those unpleasant features which nature had bestowed upon 
 him by a studied air of self-possession, and by an extreme preci- 
 sion of dress. Alack and well-a-day ! these laudable efforts were 
 of little avail. Nature was too strong for him. The assumption 
 of a languid and indifferent air was not quite in consonance with 
 the ferrety gray eyes ; the precision of his costume only gave 
 him the look of a well-dressed groom, or a butler gone on the 
 turf. There was not much grateful to the sight about Mr. Fred- 
 crick Smethurst. 
 
 liut were we to hate the man for being ugly ? Despite liis raw 
 face, he might have -the white soul of an angel. And in fact we 
 knew absolutely nothing against his private character or private 
 reputation, except that he had been blackballed at a London club
 
 " BROSE." 37 
 
 in by-gone days ; and even of that little circumstance our women- 
 folk were not aware. However, there was no doubt at all that a 
 certain coldness — apparent to us who knew her well — character- 
 ized the manner of this small lady who now went up and shook 
 hands with him, and dcchu-ed — unblushingly — that she was so 
 glad he had run up to the Highlands. 
 
 "And you know," said she, with that charming politeness 
 which she would show to the archfiend himself if he were prop- 
 erly introduced to her — " you know, Mr. Smethurst, that yacht- 
 ing is such an uncertain thing, one never knows when one may 
 get back ; but if you could spare a few days to take a run with 
 us, you would see what a capital mariner Mary has become, and I 
 am sure it would be a great pleasure to us." 
 
 These were actually her words. She uttered them without 
 the least tremor of hesitation. She looked him straight in the 
 face with those clear, innocent, confiding eyes of hers. How 
 could the man tell that she was wishing him at Jericho ? 
 
 And it was in silence that we waited to hear our doom pro- 
 nounced. A yachting trip with this intolerable Jonah on board ! 
 The sunlight went out of the day ; the blue went out of the sky 
 and the seas ; the world was filled with gloom, and chaos, and 
 East Wind. 
 
 Imagine, then, the sudden joy with which we heard of our 
 deliverance ! Surely it was not the raucous voice of Frederick 
 Smethurst, but a sound of sunmier bells. 
 
 " Oh, thank you," he said, in his affectedly indifferent waj''. 
 " But the fact is, I have run up to see Mary only on a little mat- 
 ter of business, and I must get back at once. Indeed, I purpose 
 leaving by the Dalmally coach in the afternoon. Thank you 
 very much, though ; perhaps some other time I may be more 
 fortunate." 
 
 How we had wronged this poor man ! We hated him no 
 longer. On the contrary, great grief was expressed over his 
 departure ; and he was begged at least to stay that one evening. 
 No doubt he had heard of Dr. Angus Sutherland, who had made 
 such discoveries in the use of anaesthetics ? Dr. Sutherland was 
 coming by the afternoon steamer. Would not he stay and meet 
 him at dinner ? 
 
 Our tears broke out afresh — metaphorically — when East Wind 
 persisted in his intention of departure ; but of course compulsion
 
 38 WHITE WINGS : a yachting romance. 
 
 was out of the question. And so we allowed liira to go into the 
 house to have that business interview with his niece. 
 
 "A poor crayture !" remarked the Laird, confidently, forgetting 
 that he was talking of a friend of ours. " Why does he not 
 speak out like a man, instead of drawling and dawdling? His 
 accent is jist insufferable." 
 
 "And what business can he have with Mary?" says our sover- 
 eign lady, sharply — just as if a man with a raw skin and yellow- 
 white hair must necessarily be a pick-pocket. "He was the 
 trustee of that little fortune of hers, I know ; but that is all over. 
 She got the money when she came of age. What can he want 
 to see her about now ?" 
 
 We concerned ourselves not with that. It was enough for us 
 that the snake was about to retreat from our summer paradise of 
 his own free-will and pleasure. And Angus Sutlierland was com- 
 ing, and the provisioning of the yacht had to be seen to ; for to- 
 morrow — to-morrow we spread our white wings again, and take 
 flight to the far north. 
 
 Never was parting guest so warmly speeded. We concealed 
 our tears as the coacli rolled away. We waved a hand to him. 
 And then, when it was suggested that the wagonette that liad 
 brought Mary Avon down from Castle Osprey might just as well 
 go along to the quay — for the steamer bringing Angus Sutlier- 
 land would be in shortly — and when we actually did set out in 
 that direction, there was so little grief on our faces that you could 
 not have told we had been bidding farewell to a valued friend 
 and relative. 
 
 Now, if our good-hcartcd Laird had had a grain of jealousy in 
 his nature, he might well have resented the manner in which 
 these two women spoke of the approaching guest. In their talk 
 the word " he " meant only one person. " He " was sure to come 
 by this steamer. "lie" was so punctual in his engagements. 
 AVould he bring a gun or a rod ; or would the sailing be enough 
 amusement for him ? What a capital thing it was for liim to be 
 able to take an interest in some such out-of-door exercise, as a 
 distraction to the mind ! And so forth, and so forth. The Laird 
 lieard all this, and his expectations were no doubt rising and ris- 
 ing. Forgetful of his disappointment on first seeing Mary Avon, 
 he was in all likelihood creating an imaginary figure of Angus 
 Sutherland — and, of course, tliis marvel of erudition and intel-
 
 " BROSE. 39 
 
 lectual power must be a tall, wan, pale person, with the travail of 
 thinking written in lines across the spacious brow. The Laird 
 was not aware that for many a day after we first made the ac- 
 quaintance of the young Scotch stndcnt he was generally referred 
 to in our private conversation as " Brosc." 
 
 And, indeed, the Laird did stare considerably when he saw — 
 elbowing his way through the crowd, and making for us with a 
 laugh of welcome on the fresh - colored face — a stout -set, mus- 
 cular, blue-eyed, sandy-haired, good-humored-looking, youngish 
 man, who, instead of having anything Celtic about his appear- 
 ance, might have been taken for the son of a south -country 
 farmer. " Brose " was carrying his own portmanteau, and stur- 
 dily shoving his way through the porters who would fain have 
 seized it. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Angus," said our queen - regent, hold- 
 ing out her hand; and there was no ceremonial politeness in that 
 reception — but you should have seen the look in her eyes. 
 
 Then he went on to the wagonette. 
 
 " How do you do. Miss Avon ?" said he, quite timidly, like a 
 school-boy. He scarcely glanced up at her face, which was re- 
 garding him with a very pleasant welcome; he seemed relieved 
 when he had to turn and seize his portmanteau again. Know- 
 ing that he was rather fond of driving, our mistress and admiral- 
 in-chief offered him the reins, but he declined the honor ; Mary 
 Avon was sitting in front. " Oh no, thank you," said he, quite 
 hastily, and with something uncommonly like a blush. The 
 Laird, if he had been entertaining any feeling of jealousy, must 
 have been reassured, " Brose " was no formidable rival. He 
 spoke very little — he only listened — as we drove away to Castle 
 Osprey. Mary Avon was chatting briskly and cheerfully, and 
 it was to the Laird that she addressed that running fire of non- 
 sense and merry laughter. 
 
 But the young doctor was greatly concerned when, on our 
 arrival at Castle Osprey, he saw iSLiry Avon helped down with 
 much care, and heard the story of the sprain. 
 
 " Who bandages your ankle ?" said he at once, and without 
 any shyness now. 
 
 " I do it myself," said she, cheerfully. " I can do it well 
 enough." 
 
 " Oh no, you cannot !" said he, abruptly ; " a person stoop-
 
 40 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 ing cannot. The bandage should be as tiglit and as smooth as 
 the skin of a drum. You must let some one else do that for 
 you." 
 
 And he was disposed to resent this walking about in the gar- 
 den before dinner. What business had she to trifle with such 
 a serious matter as a sprain ? And a sprain which was the re- 
 call of an older sprain. " Did she wish to be lame for life ?" 
 he asked, sharply. 
 
 Mary Avon laughed, and said that worse things than that had 
 befallen people. He asked her whether she found any pleasure 
 in voluntary martyrdom. She blushed a little, and turned to the 
 Laird. 
 
 The Laird was at this moment laying before us the details of 
 a most gigantic scheme. It appeared that the inhabitants of 
 Strathgovan, not content with a steam fire-engine, were talking 
 about having a public park — actually proposing to have a public 
 park, with beds of flowers, and iron seats ; and, to crown all, a 
 gymnasium, where the youths of the neighborhood might twirl 
 themselves ou the gay trapeze to their hearts' content. And 
 where the subscriptions were to come from, and what were the 
 hardiest plants for borders, and whether the gymnasium should 
 be furnished with ropes or with chains — these matters were 
 weighing heavily on the mind of our good friend of Denny- 
 mains. Angus Sutherland relapsed into silence, and gazed ab- 
 sently at a tree-fuchsia that stood by. 
 
 " It is a beautiful plant, is it not ?" said a voice beside him — 
 that of our empress and liege lady. 
 
 He started. 
 
 " Oh yes," he said, cheerfully. " I was thinking I should like 
 to live the life of a tree like that, dying in the winter, you know, 
 and being quite impervious to frost and snow and hard weather ; 
 and then, as soon as the fine warm spring and summer came 
 round, coming to life again and spreading yourself out to feel 
 all the sunlight and the warm winds. That must be a capital 
 life." 
 
 " But do you really think they can feel that ? Why, you 
 must believe that those trees and flowers are alive !" 
 
 " Docs anybody doubt it ?" said he, quite simply. " They arc 
 certainly aUvc. Why — " 
 
 And here he bctliought himself for a moment.
 
 " BROSE." 41 
 
 " If I only had a good microscope now," said Lc, eagerly, " I 
 would show you the life of a plant directly — in every cell of it : 
 did you never see the constant life in each cell, the motion of 
 the chlorophyl granules circling and circling night and day ? 
 Did no one ever show you that ?'' 
 
 Well, no one had ever shown us that. We may now and 
 again have entertained angels unawares ; but we were not always 
 stumbling against Fellows of the Royal Society. 
 
 " Then I must borrow one somewhere," said he, decisively, " and 
 show you the secret life of even the humblest plant that exists. 
 And then look what a long life it is, in the case of the perennial 
 plants. Did you ever think of that? Those great trees in the 
 Yoseraite Valley — they were alive and feeling the warm sunlight 
 and the winds about them when Alfred was hiding in the marshes ; 
 and they were living the same undisturbed life when Charles the 
 First had his head chopped off; and they were living — in peace 
 and quietness — when all Europe had to wake up to stamp out the 
 Napoleonic pest ; and they are alive now and quite careless of the 
 little creatures that come to span out their circumference, and 
 ticket them, and give them ridiculous names. Had any of the 
 patriarchs a life as long as that?" 
 
 The Laird eyed this young man askance. There was something 
 uncanny about him. What might not he say when — in the North- 
 ern solitudes to which we were going — the great Semple heresy 
 case was brought on for discussion ? 
 
 But at dinner the Laird got on very well with our new guest ; 
 for the latter listened most respectfully when Denny-mains was 
 demonstrating the exceeding purity, and strength, and fitness of 
 the speech used in the south of Scotland. And indeed the Laird 
 was generous. He admitted that there were blemishes. He dep- 
 recated the introduction of French words, and gave us a much 
 longer list of those aliens than usually appears in books. What 
 about conjee, and que-vee, and fracaw, as used by Scotch children 
 and old wives? 
 
 Then after dinner — at nine o'clock the wonderful glow of the 
 summer evening was still filling the drawing-room — the Laird 
 must needs have Mary Avon sing to him. It was not a custom 
 of hers. She rarely would sing a song of set purpose. The lin- 
 net sings all day — when you do not watch her ; but she will not 
 sing if you go and ask.
 
 42 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 However, on this occasion, her hostess went to the piano, and 
 sat down to play the accompaniment ; and Mary Avon stood be- 
 side her, and sang, in rather a low voice — but it was tender enough 
 — some modern version of the old ballad of the Queen's Maries. 
 What were the words? These were of them, anyway: 
 
 " Yestreen the Queen had four Maries ; 
 This night she'll hae but three : 
 There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton, 
 And Mary Carmichael, and me." 
 
 But, indeed, if you had seen that graceful slim figure, clad all in 
 black velvet, with the broad band of gold fringe round the neck, 
 and the small, shapely, smoothly brushed head above the soft 
 swathes of white muslin; and if you had caught a glimpse of 
 the black eyelashes drooping outward from the curve of the 
 pale cheek, and if yon had heard the tender, low voice of Mary 
 Avon, you might have forgotten about the Queen's Maries alto- 
 gether. 
 
 And then Angus Sutherland : the Laird Avas determined — in 
 true Scotch fashion — that everybody who could not sing should 
 be goaded to sing. 
 
 " Oh, well," said the young man, with a laugh, " you know a 
 student in Germany must sing whether he can or not. And I 
 learned there to smash out something like an accompaniment, 
 also." 
 
 And he went to the piano without more ado, and did smash out 
 an accompaniment. And if his voice was rather harsh — well, we 
 should have called it raucous in the case of East Wind, but we 
 only called it manly and strenuous when it was Angus Sutherland 
 who sang. And it was a manly song, too — a fitting song for our 
 last night on shore, the words hailing from the green woods of 
 Fuinary, the air an air that had many a time been heard among 
 the Western seas. It was the song of the Biorlinn* that he sang 
 
 * Biorlinn, that Is, a rowinpt-boat. Tlie word is pronoiinood hiurlen. The 
 song, which in a measure imitates tlie ihythiu peculiar to lligliland poetry — 
 consisting in a certain repetition of the same vowel sounds — is the produc- 
 tion of Dr. Maeleod, of Morven. And here, for the benefit of any one who 
 minds such things, is a rough draft of tlie air, arranged by a most charm-
 
 BROSE. 
 
 43 
 
 to us ; wc could hear the brave chorus and the splash of the long 
 
 oars : 
 
 " Send the biorlinn on careering ! 
 Cheerily and all together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 
 A long, strong pull together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 
 " Give her way and show her wake 
 'Mid showering spray and curling eddies — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 A long, strong pull together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen !" 
 
 Do we not hear now the measured stroke in the darkness of the 
 morning ? The water springs from her bows ; one by one the 
 
 ing young lady, who, however, says she would rather die than have her name 
 mentioned : 
 
 ^-::^- 
 
 ±-±n 
 
 
 -»-. —0 •-7- 
 
 -0—0- 
 
 :-Nzi 
 
 
 Seud the bior-liim ou careeinug ! Cheer-i-ly and all to-geth-er. 
 
 t — ^ — ^r*-^V 
 
 ^ 0~ ^^^-0-^ 
 
 -j y — P— t^f-' 
 
 meii 
 
 -0—W—0- 
 
 V V 
 
 :^ 
 
 ^zil^z^ 
 
 -N-- 
 
 Chouus. 
 
 ' ' ': -j^ — S -iy 
 
 — — ^ — ^ ^■■ 
 
 =:s---1:=^:-q=u 
 
 -0—0- 
 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen! A long, strong pull together. Ho, ro, claus-men! 
 
 P ff 
 
 ^^i-'f • 
 
 ■I — — I — #-h — V-^ 
 
 3 

 
 44 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 headlands are passed. But lo ! the day is breaking ; the dawn 
 will surely bring a breeze with it; and then the sail of the gal- 
 lant craft will bear her over the seas. 
 
 "Another cheer, our Isle appears ! 
 Our biorUnn bears her on the faster — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 A long, strong pull together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 
 "Ahead she goes! the land she knows! 
 Behold! the snowy shores of Canua — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 A long, strong pull together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen !" 
 
 A long, strong pull together, indeed : who could resist joining in 
 the thunder of the chorus ? And we were bound for Canna, too : 
 this was our last night on shore. 
 
 Our last night on shore. In such circumstances one naturally 
 has a glance round at the people with whom one is to be brought 
 into such close contact for many and many a day. But in this 
 particular case what was the use of speculating, or grumbling, or 
 remonstrating? There is a certain household that is I'uled with 
 a rod of iron. And if the mistress of that household chose to 
 select as her summer companions a " shilpit bit thing," and a 
 hard-headed, ambitious Scotch student, and a parocliial magnate 
 haunted by a heresy case, how dared one object ? There is such 
 a thing as peace and quietness. 
 
 But however unpromising the outlook might be, do we not 
 know the remark that is usually made by that hard-worked of- 
 ficer, the chief mate, when on the eve of a voyage he finds him- 
 self confronted by an unusually mongrel crew? He regards 
 those loafers and outcasts, from the Bowery, and Ratcliflfe High- 
 way, and the Broomielaw — Greeks, niggers, and Mexicans — with 
 a critical and perhaps scornful air, and forthwith proceeds to ad- 
 dress them in the following highly polished manner: 
 
 "By etcetera-etcetera, you are an ctceteraed rum-looking lot; 
 but etcetera-etcetera me if I doii't lick yoit, into shape before ive 
 get to liio /" 
 
 And so — good-night! — and let all good people pray for fair 
 skies and a favoring breeze ! And if there is any song to be
 
 NORTHWARD. 45 
 
 heard in our dreams, let it be the song of the Queen's Maries — 
 in the low, tender voice of Mary Avon : 
 
 " There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton, 
 And Mary Carmichael, and me." 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 NORTHWARD. 
 
 "We have bidden good-bye to the land; the woods and the 
 green hills have become pale in the haze of the summer light ; 
 we are out here, alone, on the shining blue plain. And if Angus 
 Sutherland betrays a tendency to keep forward, conversing with 
 John of Skye about blocks, and tackle, and winches ; and if the 
 Laird — whose parental cai-e and regard for Mary Avon is becom- 
 ing beautiful to see — should have quite a monopoly of the young 
 lady, and be more bent than ever on amusing her with his " good 
 ones ;" and if our queen and governor should spend a large por- 
 tion of her time below, in decorating cabins with flowers, in 
 overhauling napery, and in earnest consultation with Master Fred 
 about certain culinary mysteries ; notwithstanding all these di- 
 vergences of place and occupation, our little kingdom afloat is 
 compact enough. There is always, for example, a reassembling 
 at meals. There is an instant community of interest when a 
 sudden cry calls all hands on deck to regard some new thing — 
 the spouting of a whale or the silvery splashing of a shoal of 
 mackerel. But now — but now — if only some cloud-compelling 
 Jove would break this insufferably fine weather, and give us a 
 rattling good gale ! 
 
 It is a strange little kingdom. It has no postal service. Shil- 
 ling telegrams are unknown in it; there is no newspaper at 
 breakfast. Serene, independent, self-centred, it minds its own af- 
 fairs: if the whole of Europe were roaring for war, not even an 
 echo of the cry would reach us. We only hear the soft calling 
 of the sea-birds as we sit and read, or talk, or smoke, from time 
 to time watching the shadows move on the blistering hot decks, 
 or guessing at the names of the great mountains that rise above 
 Loch Etive and Lochaber. But oh ! for the swift gale to tear 
 this calm to pieces ! Is there no one of you giants secretly brew-
 
 46 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 ing a storm for us, far up there among the lonely chasms, to 
 spring down on these glassy seas ? 
 
 " They prayed for rain in the churches last Sunday — so Cap- 
 tain John says," Mary Avon remarks, when we assemble together 
 at lunch. 
 
 " The distilleries are stopped : that's very serious," continues 
 the Laird. 
 
 " Well," says our liege lady, " people talk about the rain in the 
 West Highlands. It must be true, as everybody says it is true. 
 But now — excepting the year we went to America with Sylvia 
 Balfour — we have been here for five years running; and each 
 year we made up our mind for a deluge, thinking we had deserved 
 it, you know. Well, it never came. Look at this now." 
 
 And the fact was that we were lying motionless on the smooth 
 bosom of the Atlantic, with the sun so hot on the decks that we 
 were glad to get below. 
 
 " Very strange — very strange, indeed," remarked the Laird, 
 with a profound air. " Now, what value are we to put on any 
 historical evidence if we find such a conflict of testimony about 
 what is at our own doors? How should there be two opeenions 
 about the weather in the West Highlands. It is a matter of com- 
 mon experience — dear me ! I never heard the like." 
 
 "Oh, but I think we might try to reconcile those diverse opin- 
 ions !" said Angus Sutherland, with an absolute gravity. " You 
 hear mostly the complaints of London people, who make much 
 of a passing shower. Then the tourist and holiday folk, espe- 
 cially from the South, come in the autumn, when the fine summer 
 weather has broken. And then," he added, addressing himself 
 with a frank smile to the small creature who had been expressing 
 her Avonder over the fine weather, " perhaps, if you are pleased 
 with your holiday on the whole, you are not anxious to remem- 
 ber the wet days ; and then you are not afraid of a shower, I 
 know ; and besides that, when one is yachting, one is more anx- 
 ious for wind than for fine weather." 
 
 " Oh, I am sure that is it !" called out Mary Avon, quite eager- 
 ly. She did not care how she destroyed the Laird's convictions 
 about the value of historical evidence, " That is an explanation 
 of the whole thing." 
 
 At this, Angus Sutherland — who had been professing to treat 
 this matter seriously merely as a joke — quickly lowered his eyes.
 
 NORTHWARD. 47 
 
 He scarcely ever looked Mary Avon in tlie face when she spoke 
 to him, or when he had to speak to her. And a little bit of shy 
 embarrassment in his manner toward her — perceivable only at 
 times — was all the more singular in a man who was shrewd and 
 hard -headed enough, who had knocked about the world, and 
 seen many persons and things, and who had a fair amount of 
 unassuming self-confidence, mingled with a vein of sly and reti- 
 cent humor. lie talked freely enough when he was addressing 
 our admiral-in-chief. He was not afraid to meet her eyes. In- 
 deed, they were so familiar friends that she called him by his 
 Christian name — a practice which in general she detested. But 
 she would as soon have thought of applying " Mr." to one of her 
 own boys at Epsom College as to Angus Sutherland. 
 
 " Well, you know, Angus," says she, pleasantly, " you have 
 definitely promised to go up to the Outer Hebrides with us, and 
 back. The longer the calms last, the longer we shall have you. 
 So we shall gladly put up with the fine weather." 
 
 " It is very kind of you to say so ; but I have already had such 
 a long holiday — " 
 
 " Oh !" said Mary Avon, with her eyes full of wonder and in- 
 dignation. She was too surprised to say any more. She only 
 stared at him. She knew he had been working night and day 
 in Edinburgh. 
 
 " I mean," said he, hastily, and looking down, " I have been 
 away so long from London. Indeed, I was getting rather anxious 
 about my next month's number ; but luckily, just before I left 
 Edinburgh, a kind friend sent me a most valuable paper, so I am 
 quite at ease again. Would you like to read it, sir? It is set 
 up in type." 
 
 He took the sheets from his pocket, and handed them to the 
 Laird. Denny-mains looked at the title. It was " On the Ea- 
 diolarians of the Coal Measures," and it was the production of a 
 well-known professor. The Laird handed back the paper with- 
 out opening it. 
 
 " No, thank you," said he, with some dignity. " If I wished 
 to be instructed, I would like a safer guide than that man." 
 
 We looked with dismay on this dangerous thing that had 
 been brought on board : might it not explode, and blow up the 
 ship? 
 
 " Why," said our doctor, in unafiected wonder, and entirely
 
 48 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 mistaking the Laird's exclamation, " he is a perfect master of his 
 subject." 
 
 "There is a great deal too much speculation nowadays on these 
 matters, and parteecularly among the younger men," remarked the 
 Laird, severely. And he looked at Angus Sutherland. " I sup- 
 pose now ye are well acquainted with the ' Vestiges of Creation V " 
 
 " I have heard of the book," said Brose, regretfully confessing 
 his ignorance, " but I never happened to see it." 
 
 The Laird's countenance lightened. 
 
 " So much the better — so much the better. . A most mischiev- 
 ous and unsettling book. But all the harm it can do is counter- 
 acted by a noble work, a conclusive work, that leaves nothing to 
 be said. Ye have read the ' Testimony of the Rocks,' no doubt ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, certainly," our doctor was glad to be able to say ; 
 " but — but it was a long time ago — when I was a boy, in fact." 
 
 " Boy or man, you'll get no better book on the history of the 
 earth. I tell ye, sir, I never read a book that placed such firm 
 conviction in my mind. Will ye get any of the new men they 
 are talking about as keen an observer and as skilful in arguing as 
 Hugh Miller ? No, no ; not one of them dares to try to upset the 
 ' Testimony of the Rocks.' " 
 
 Angus Sutherland appealed against this sentence of finality only 
 in a very humble way. 
 
 " Of course, sir," said, he meekly, " you know that science is 
 still moving forward — " 
 
 *' Science ?" repeated the Laird. " Science may be moving for- 
 ward or moving backward ; but can it upset the facts of the 
 earth? Science may say what it likes; but the facts remain the 
 same." 
 
 Now this point was so conclusive that we unanimously hailed 
 the Laird as victor. Our doctor submitted with an excellent good- 
 humor, lie even promised to post that paper on the Radiolarians 
 at the very first office we might reach : we did not want any such 
 explosive compounds on board. 
 
 That night we only got as far as Fishnish Bay — a solitary lit- 
 tle harbor probably down on but few maps; and that we had to 
 reach by getting out the gig for a tow. There was a strange 
 bronze-red in the northern skies, long after the sun had set ; but 
 in here the shadow of the great mountains was on the water. We 
 could scarcely see the gig; but Angus Sutherland had joined the
 
 NORTUWARD. 49 
 
 men, and was pulling stroke; and along with the measured splash 
 of the oars we heard something about "^o, ro, clansmen /" Then, 
 in the cool night air, there was a slight fragrance of peat smoke ; 
 we knew we were getting near the shore. 
 
 "He's a fine fellow that," says the Laird, generously, of his 
 defeated antagonist. "A fine fellow. His knowledge of different 
 things is just remarkable ; and he's as modest as a girl. Ay, and 
 he can row, too ; a while ago, when it was lighter, I could see 
 him put his shoulders into it. Ay, he's a fine good-natured fel- 
 low, and I am glad he has not been led astray by that mischievous 
 book, the 'Vestiges of Creation.' " 
 
 Come on board now, boys, and swing up the gig to the davits. 
 Twelve fathoms of chain ? — away with her, then ! — and there is a 
 roar in the silence of the lonely little bay. And thereafter si- 
 lence ; and the sweet fragrance of the peat in the night air, and 
 the appearance, above the black hills, of a clear, shining, golden 
 planet that sends a quivering line of light across the water to us. 
 And, once more, good-night, and pleasant dreams ! 
 
 But what is this in the morning? There have been no pleasant 
 dreams for John of Skye and his merry men during the last night ; 
 for here we are already between Mingary Bay and Ru-na-Gaul 
 Light-house; and before us is the open Atlantic, blue under the 
 fair skies of the morning. And here is Dr. Sutherland, at the 
 tiller, with a suspiciously negligent look about his hair and shirt- 
 collar. 
 
 " I have been up since four," says he, with a laugh. " I heard 
 them getting under way, and did not wish to miss anything. 
 You know these places are not so familiar to me as they are to 
 you." 
 
 " Is there going to be any wind to-day, John ?" 
 
 "No mich," says John of Skye, looking at the cloudless blue 
 vault above and the glassy sweeps of the sea. 
 
 Nevertheless, as the morning goes by, we get as much of a 
 breeze as enables us to draw away from the main-land — round 
 Ardnaraurchan (" the headland of the great sea ") and out into 
 the open — with Muick Island, and the sharp Scuir of Eigg, and 
 the peaks of Rum lying over there on the still Atlantic, and far 
 away in the north the vast and spectral mountains of Skye. 
 
 And now the work of the day begins. Mary Avon, for mere 
 shame's sake, is at last compelled to produce one of her blank
 
 50 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 canvases, and open her box of tubes. And now it would appear 
 that Angus Sutherland — though deprived of the authority of the 
 sick-room — is beginning to lose his fear of the English young 
 lady. He makes himself useful — not with the elaborate and pat- 
 ronizing courtesy of the Laird, but in a sort of submissive, mat- 
 ter-of-fact shifty fashion. He sheathes the spikes of her easel 
 with cork, so that they shall not mark the deck. He rigs up, to 
 counterbalance that lack of stability, a piece of cord with a heavy 
 weight. Then, with the easel fixed, he fetches her a deck chair 
 to sit in, and a deck stool for her colors, and these and her he 
 places under the lee of the foresail, to be out of the glare of the 
 sun. Thus our artist is started ; she is going to make a sketch 
 of the after-part of the yacht, with Hector of Moidart at the til- 
 ler : beyond, the calm blue seas, and a faint promontory of land. 
 
 Then the Laird — having confidentially remarked to Miss Avon 
 that Tom Galbraith, than whom there is no greater authority liv- 
 ing, invariably moistens the fresh canvas with megilp before be- 
 ginning work — has turned to the last report of the Semple case. 
 
 " No, no," says he to our sovereign lady, who is engaged in 
 some mysterious work in wool, " it does not look well for the 
 Presbytery to go over every one of the charges in the major prop- 
 oseetion — supported by the averments in the minor — only to find 
 them irrelevant ; and then bring home to him the part of the li- 
 bel that deals with tendency. No, no ; that shows a lamentable 
 want of purpose. In view of the great danger to be apprehend- 
 ed from these secret assaults on the inspiration of the Scriptures, 
 they should have stuck to each charge with tenahcity. Now I 
 will just show ye where Dr. Carnegie, in defending Sectindo — 
 illustrated as it was with the extracts and averments in the minor 
 — let the whole thing slip through his fingers." 
 
 But if any one were disposed to be absolutely idle on this calm, 
 shining, beautiful day — far away from the cares and labors of the 
 land ? Out on the talfrail, under shadow of the mizzen, there is a 
 scat that is gratefully cool. The glare of the sea no longer be- 
 wilders the eyes ; one can watch with a lazy enjoyment the teem- 
 ing life of the open Atlantic. The great skarts go whizzing by, 
 long-necked, rapid of flight. The gannets poise in the air, and 
 then there is a sudden dart downward, and a spout of water flash- 
 es up where the bird has dived. The guillemots fill the silence 
 with their soft kurrooing — and here they are on all sides of us —
 
 NORTHWARD. 61 
 
 Kurroo! Kiirroo ! — dipping their bills in the water, hastening 
 away from the vessel, and then rising on the surface to flap their 
 wings. But this is a strange thing: they are all in pairs — ob- 
 viously mother and child — and the mother calls Kurroo! Kur- 
 roo! — and the young one, unable as yet to dive or swim, answers 
 Pe-yoo-it! Pe-tjoo-it! and flutters and paddles after her. But 
 where is the father? And has the guillemot only one of a fami- 
 ly ? Over that one, at all events, she exercises a valiant protec- 
 tion. Even though the stem of the yacht seems likely to run 
 both of them down, she will neither dive nor fly until she has 
 piloted the young one out of danger. 
 
 Then a sudden cry startles the Laird from his heresy case, and 
 Mary Avon from her canvas. A sound far away has turned all 
 eyes to the north ; though there is nothing visible there, over the 
 shining calm o^ the sea, but a small cloud of white spray that 
 slowly sinks. In a second or two, however, we see another jet of 
 white water arise ; and then a great brown mass heave slowly 
 over; and then we hear the spouting of the whale. 
 
 " What a huge animal !" cries one. "A hundred feet !" 
 
 " Eighty, anyway !" 
 
 The whale is sheering off to the north : there is less and less 
 chance of our forming any correct estimate. 
 
 " Oh, I am sure it was a hundred I Don't you think so, An- 
 gus?" says our admiral. 
 
 " Well," says the doctor, slowly — pretending to be very anxious 
 about keeping the sails full (when there was no wind) — *' you 
 know there is a great difference between ' yacht measurement ' 
 and ' registered tonnage.' A vessel of fifty registered tons may 
 become eighty or ninety by yacht measurement. And I have 
 often noticed," continues this graceless young man, who takes no 
 thought how he is bringing contempt on his elders, " that objects 
 seen from the deck of a yacht are naturally subject to 'yacht 
 measurement.' I don't know what the size of that whale may 
 be. Its registered tonnage, I suppose, Avould be the number of 
 Jonahs it could carry. But I should think that if the apparent 
 'yacht measurement' was a hundred feet, the whale was probably 
 about twenty feet long." 
 
 It was thus he tried to diminish the marvels of the deep. But, 
 however he might crush us otherwise, we were his masters on 
 one point. The Semple heresy case was too deep even for hira. 
 
 3*
 
 52 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 What could he make of " the first alternative of the general 
 major f 
 
 And see now, on this beautiful summer evening, we pass be- 
 tween Muick and Eigg ; and the sea is like a plain of gold. As 
 we draw near the sombre mass of Rum the sunset deepens, and 
 a strange lurid mist hangs around this remote and mountainous 
 island rising sheer from the Atlantic. Gloomy and mysterious 
 are the vast peaks of Haleval and Haskeval ; we creep under 
 them — favored by a flood tide — and the silence of the desolate 
 shores seems to spread out from them and to encompass us. 
 
 Mary Avon has long ago put away her canvas ; she sits and 
 watches ; and her soft black eyes are full of dreaming as she 
 gazes up at tliose thunder-dark mountains against the rosy haze 
 of the west. 
 
 " Haleval and Haskeval ?" Angus Sutherland repeats, in reply 
 to his hostess ; but he starts all the same, for he has been covert- 
 ly regarding the dark and wistful eyes of the girl sitting there. 
 " Oh, these are Norse names. Scuir na Gillean, on the other 
 hand, is Gaelic — it is the peak of the young men. Perhaps the 
 Norsemen had the north of the island, and the Celts the south." 
 
 Whether they were named by Scandinavian or by Celt, Hale- 
 val and Haskeval seemed to overshadow us with their sultry 
 gloom as we slowly glided into the lonely loch lying at their 
 base. We were the only vessel there ; and we could make out 
 no sign of life on shore, until the glass revealed to us one or two 
 half-ruined cottages. The Northern twilight shone in the sky 
 far into the night ; but neither that clear metallic glow, nor any 
 radiance from moon, or planet, or stars, seemed to affect the 
 thunder-darkness of Haskeval and Haleval's silent peaks. 
 
 There was another tale to tell below : the big saloon all lit 
 up ; the white table-cover with its centre piece of roses, nastur- 
 tiums, and ferns ; the delayed dinner, or supper, or whatever it 
 might be called, all artistically arranged ; Angus Sutherland most 
 humbly solicitous that Mary Avon should be comfortably seated, 
 and, in fact, quite usurping the oftice of the Laird in that re- 
 spect ; and then a sudden sound in the galley, a hissing as of a 
 thousand squibs, telling us that Master Fred had once more, and 
 ineffectually, tried to suppress the released genie of the bottle by 
 jamming down the cork. And now the Laird, with his old- 
 fashioned ways, must needs propose a health, which is that of
 
 PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS. 53 
 
 our most sovereign mistress and lady ; and this he does with an 
 elaborate and gracious and sonorous courtesy. And surely there 
 is no reason why Mary Avon should not for once break her habit 
 and join in that simple ceremony ; especially when it is a real 
 live doctor — and not only a doctor, but an encyclopedia of scien- 
 tific and all other knowledge — who would fain fill her glass ? 
 Angus Sutherland modestly but seriously pleads; and he does 
 not plead in vain ; and you would think from his look that she 
 had conferred an extraordinary favor on him. Then we — we 
 propose a health too — the health of the Four Winds! — and 
 we do not care which of them it is who is coming to-morrow, so 
 long as he or she comes in force. Blow, breezes, blow ! — from 
 the Coolins of Skye, or the shores of Coll, or the glens of Ari- 
 saig and Moidart — for to-morrow morning we shake out once 
 more the white wino-s of the White Dove ! 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS. 
 
 Now the Laird has a habit — laudable or not — of lingerino- 
 over an additional half cup at breakfast, as an excuse for desul- 
 tory talk ; and thus it is, on this particular morning, the young 
 people having gone on deck to see the yacht get under way, that 
 Denny -mains has a chance of revealing to us certain secret 
 schemes of his over which he has apparently been brooding. 
 How could we have imagined that all this plotting and planning 
 had been going on beneath the sedate exterior of the Conmiis- 
 sioner for the Burgh of Strathgovan ? 
 
 " She's just a wonderful bit lass !" he says, confidently, to his 
 hostess ; " as happy and contented as the day is long ; and when 
 she's not singing to herself, her way of speech has a sort of — a 
 sort of music in it that is quite new to me. Yes, I must admit 
 that; I did not know that the Southern English tongue was so 
 accurate and pleasant to the ear. Ay, but what will become of 
 her?" 
 
 What, indeed ! The lady whom he was addressing had often 
 spoken to him of Mary Avon's isolated position in the world. 
 
 "It fairly distresses me," continues the good-hearted Laird,
 
 54 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " when I think of her condeetion — not at present, when she lias, 
 if I may be allowed to say so, several friends near her who would 
 be glad to do what they could for her ; but by-and-by, when she 
 is becoming older — " 
 
 The Laird hesitated. Was it possible, after all, that he was 
 about to hint at the chance of Mary Avon becoming the mistress 
 of the mansion and estate of Denny-mains 1 Then he made a 
 plunge. 
 
 "A young woman in her position should have a husband to 
 protect her; that is what I am sure of. Have ye never thought 
 of it, ma'am ?" 
 
 " I should like very well to see Mary married," says the other, 
 demurely. "And I know she would make an excellent wife,'* 
 
 "An excellent wife !" exclaims the Laird ; and then he adds, 
 with a tone approaching to severity : " I tell ye he will be a fort- 
 unate man that gets her. Oh ay ; I have watched her. I can 
 keep ray eyes open when there is need. Did you hear her ask- 
 ing the captain about his wife and children? I tell you there's 
 human nature in that lass." 
 
 There was no need for the Laird to be so pugnacious; we 
 were not contesting the point. However, he resumed : 
 
 " I have been thinking," said he, with a little more shyness, 
 " about my nephew. He's a good lad. Well, ye know, ma'am, 
 that I do not approve of young men being brought up in idle- 
 ness, whatever their prospects must be; and I have no doubt 
 whatever that my nephew Howard is working hard enough — 
 what with the reading of law-books, and attending the courts, and 
 all that — though as yet he has not had much business. But then 
 there is no necessity. I do not think he is a lad of any great 
 ambeetion, like your friend Mr. Sutherland, who has to fight his 
 way in the world in any case. But Howard — I have been think- 
 ing now that if he was to got married and settled, he might give 
 up the law business altogether ; and if they were content to live 
 in Scotland, he might look after Denny-mains. It will be his in 
 any case, ye know ; he would have the interest of a man looking 
 after his own property. Now I will tell ye plainly, ma'am, what 
 I have been thinking about this day or two back: if Howard 
 would marry your young lady friend, that would be agreeable to 
 me." 
 
 The calm manner in which the Laird announced his scheme
 
 PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS. 55 
 
 showed tliat it had been well matured. It was a natural, simple, 
 feasible arrangement, by which two persons in whom he took a 
 warm interest would be benefited at once. 
 
 "But then, sir," says his hostess, with a smile which she can- 
 not wholly repress, " you know people never do marry to please 
 a third person — at least, very seldom." 
 
 " Oh, there can be no forcing," said the Laird, with decision. 
 " But I have done a great deal for Iloward : may I not expect 
 that he will do something for me ?" 
 
 " Oh, doubtless, doubtless," says this amiable lady, who has 
 had some experience in match-making herself; "but I have gen- 
 erally found that marriages that would be in every way suitable 
 and pleasing to friends, and obviously desirable, are precisely the 
 marriages that never come off. Young people, when they are 
 flung at each other's heads, to use the common phrase, never will 
 be sensible and please their relatives. Now if you were to bring 
 your nephew here, do you think Mary would fall in love with 
 him because she ought ? More likely you would find that, out 
 of pure contrariety, she would fall in love with Angus Suther- 
 land, who cannot afford to marry, and whose head is filled with 
 other things." 
 
 "I am not sure — I am not sure," said the Laird, musingly. 
 " How^ard is a good-looking young fellow, and a capital lad, too. 
 I am not so sure." 
 
 "And then, you know," said the other, shyly, for she will not 
 plainly say anything to Mary's disparagement, " young men have 
 different tastes in their choice of a wife. He might not have 
 the high opinion of her that you have." 
 
 At this the Laird gave a look of surprise, even of resentment. 
 
 "Then I'll tell ye what it is, ma'am," said he, almost angrily, 
 " if my nephew had the chance of marrying such a girl, and did 
 not do so, I should consider him — I should consider him a fool, 
 and say so." 
 
 And then he added, sharply : 
 
 "And do you think I would let Denny-mains pass into the 
 hands of a fool f 
 
 Now this kind lady had had no intention of rousing the wrath 
 of the Laird in this manner, and she instantly set about pacify- 
 ing him. And the Laird was easily pacified. In a minute or 
 two he was laughing good-naturedly at himself for getting into
 
 56 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 a passion ; lie said it would not do for one at his time of life to 
 try to play the part of the stern father as they played that in 
 theatre pieces : there was to be no forcing. 
 
 " But he's a good lad, ma'am, a good lad," said he, rising as 
 his hostess rose ; and he added, significantly, " he is no fool, I 
 assure you, ma'am ; he has plenty of common-sense." 
 
 When we get up on deck again we find that the White Dove 
 is gently gliding out of the lonely Loch Scresorst, with its soli- 
 tary house among the trees, and its crofter's huts at the base of 
 the sombre hills. And as the light cool breeze — gratefully cool 
 after the blazing heat of the last day or two — carries us away 
 northward, we see more and more of the awful solitudes of 
 Haleval and Haskeval, that are still thunderous and dark under 
 the hazy sky. Above the great shoulders and under the purple 
 peaks we see the far-reaching corries opening up, with here and 
 there a white water-fall just visible in the hollows. There is a 
 sense of escape as we draw away from that overshadowing gloom. 
 
 Then we discover that we have a new skipper to-day, vice John 
 of Skye, deposed. The fresh hand is Mary Avon, who is at the 
 tiller, and looking exceedingly business-like. She has been pro- 
 moted to this post by Dr. Sutherland, who stands by ; she receives 
 explanations about the procedure of Hector of Moidart, who is 
 up aloft lacing the smaller top-sail to the mast ; she watches the 
 operations of John of Skye and Sandy, who are at the sheets be- 
 low ; -and, like a wise and considerate captain, she pretends not 
 to notice Master Fred, who is having a quiet smoke by the wind- 
 lass. And so past those lonely shores sails the brave vessel — the 
 yawl White Dove, Captain Mary Avon, bound for anywhere. 
 
 But you must not imagine that the new skipper is allowed to 
 stand by the tiller. Captain though she may be, she has to sub- 
 mit civilly to dictation, in so far as her foot is concerned. Our 
 young doctor has compelled her to be seated, and he has passed 
 a rope round the tiller that so she can steer from her chair, and 
 from time to time he gives suggestions, which she receives as 
 orders. 
 
 "I wish I had been with you when you first sprained your 
 foot," he says. 
 
 "Yes?" she answers, with humble iiKjuiry in her eyes. 
 
 " I would have put it in plaster of Paris," he says, in a matter- 
 of-fact way, '* and locked you up in the house for a fortnight ;
 
 PLOTS AND COUNTEHPLOTS. 57 
 
 at the end of that time you would not know which ankle was the 
 sprained one." 
 
 There was neither "with your leave" nor "by your leave" in 
 this youno- man's manner when he spoke of that accident. He 
 would have taken possession of her. He would have discarded 
 your bandages and hartshorn, and what not ; when it was Mary 
 Avon's foot that was concerned, it was intimated to us : he would 
 have had his own M'ay in spite of all comers. 
 
 "I Avish I had known," she says, timidly, meaning that it was 
 the treatment she wished she had known. 
 
 " There is a more heroic remedy," said he, with a smile, " and 
 that is walking the sprain off. 1 believe that can be done, but 
 most people would shrink from the pain. Of course, if it were 
 done at all, it would be done by a woman : women can bear pain 
 infinitely better than men." 
 
 " Oh, do you think so f ' she says, in mild protest. " Oh, I 
 am sure not. Men are so much braver than women, so much 
 stronger — " 
 
 But this gentle quarrel is suddenly stopped, for some one calls 
 attention to a deer that is calmly browsing on one of the high 
 slopes above that rocky shore, and instantly all glasses are in re- 
 quest. It is a hind, with a beautifully shaped head and slender 
 legs. She takes no notice of the passing craft, but continues her 
 feeding, walking a few steps onward from time to time. In this 
 way she reaches the edge of a gully in the rugged cliffs where 
 there is some brushwood, and probably a stream ; into this she 
 sedately descends, and we see her no more. 
 
 Then there is another cry : what is this cloud ahead, or water- 
 spout, resting on the calm bosom of the sea? Glasses again in 
 request, amidst many exclamations, reveal to us that this is a dense 
 cloud of birds — a flock so vast that toward the water it seems 
 black. Can it be the dead body of a whale that has collected 
 this world of wings from all the northern seas? Hurry on, White 
 Dove, for the floating cloud with the black base is moving and 
 seething, in fantastic white fumes, as it were, in the loveliness of 
 this summer day. And now, as we draw nearer, we can descry 
 that there is no dead body of a whale causing that blackness, but 
 only the density of the mass of sea-fowl ! And nearer and nearer 
 as we draw, behold ! the great gannets swooping down in such 
 numbers that the sea is covered with a mist of water-spouts ; and
 
 58 WHITE WINGS ; A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 the air is filled with innumerable cries ; and we do not know what 
 to make of this bewildering, fluttering, swimming, screaming mass 
 of terns, guillemots, skarts, kittiwakes, razor-bills, puffins, and gulls. 
 But they draw away again. The herring shoal is moving north- 
 ward. The murmur of cries becomes more remote, and the seeth- 
 ing cloud of the sea-birds is slowly dispersing. When the White 
 Dove sails up to the spot at which this phenomenon was first 
 seen, there is nothing visible but a scattered assemblage of guille- 
 mots — Kurroo ! Kurroo! answered by Pe-yoo-it ! Pe-yoo-it! — 
 and great gannets (" as big as a sheep," says John of Skye), ap- 
 parently so gorged that they lie on the water within stone's-throw 
 of the yacht, before spreading out their long, snow-white, black- 
 tipped wings to bear them away over the sea. 
 
 And now, as we are altering our course to the west — far away 
 to our right stand the vast Coolins of Skye — we sail along the 
 northern shores of Rum. There is no trace of any habitation 
 visible ; nothing but the precipitous cliffs and the sandy bays and 
 the outstanding rocks dotted with rows of shining black skarts. 
 When Mary Avon asks why those sandy bays should be so red, 
 and why a certain ruddy warmth of color should shine through 
 even the patches of grass, our F.R.S. begins to speak of powdered 
 basalt rubbed down from the rocks above. He would have her 
 begin another sketch, but she is too proud of her newly-acquired 
 knowledge to forsake the tiller. 
 
 The wind is now almost dead aft, and we have a good deal of 
 jibing. Other people might think that all this jibing was an evi- 
 dence of bad steering on the part of our new skipper; but Angus 
 Sutherland — and we cannot contradict an F.R.S. — assures Miss 
 Avon that she is doing remarkably well ; and, as he stands by to 
 lay hold of the main-sheet when the boom swings over, we are not 
 in much danger of carrying away either port or starboard davits. 
 
 " Do you know," says he, lightly, " I sometimes think I ought 
 to apply for the post of surgeon on board a man-of-war ? That 
 would just suit me — " 
 
 " Oh, I hope you will not," she blurts out, quite inadvertently ; 
 and thereafter there is a deep blush on her face. 
 
 " I should enjoy it immensely, I know," says he, wholly igno- 
 rant of her embarrassment, because he is keeping an eye on the 
 sails. "I believe I should have more pleasure in life that way 
 than any other."
 
 PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS. 59 
 
 "But you do not live for your own pleasure," says she, hastily, 
 perhaps to cover her confusion. 
 
 " I have no one else to live for, anyway," says he, with a laugh ; 
 and then he corrected himself. " Oh yes, I have. My father is a 
 sad heretic. He has fallen away from the standards of his faith ; 
 he has set up idols — the diplomas and medals I have got from 
 time to time. He has them all arranged in his study, and I have 
 heard that he positively sits down before them and worships 
 them. When I sent him the medal from Vienna — it was only 
 bronze — he returned to me his Greek Testament that he had in- 
 terleaved and annotated when he was a student; I believe it was 
 his greatest possession." 
 
 "And you would give up all that he expects from you, to go 
 away and be a doctor on board a ship !" says Mary Avon, with 
 some proud emphasis. " That would not be my ambition if I 
 were a man, and — and if I had — if — " 
 
 Well, she could not quite say to Brose's face what she thought 
 of his powers and prospects; so she suddenly broke away and 
 said, 
 
 "Yes; you would go and do that for your own amusement? 
 And what would the amusement be ? Do you think they w^ould 
 let the doctor interfere with the sailing of the ship ?" 
 
 " Well," said he, laughing, " that is a practical objection. I 
 don't suppose the captain of a man-of-war or even of a merchant 
 vessel would be as accommodating as your John of Skye. Cap- 
 tain John has his compensation when he is relieved ; he can go 
 forward and light his pipe." 
 
 "Well, I think, for your father'' s sake,^'' says Miss Avon, with 
 decision, " you had better put that idea out of your head, once 
 and for all." 
 
 Now blow, breezes, blow ! W^hat is the great headland that 
 appears, striking out into the wide Atlantic ? 
 
 " Ahead she goes ! the land she knows ! 
 Behold ! the snowy shores of Canna — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 A long, strong pull together — 
 Ho, ro, clansmen !" 
 
 " Tom Galbraith," the Laird is saying, solemnly, to his hostess, 
 " has assured me that Rum is the most picturesque island on the
 
 60 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 whole of the western coast of Scotland, That is his deleeberate 
 opinion. And indeed I would not go so far as to say he was 
 wrong. Arran ! They talk about Arran ! Just look at those 
 splendid mountains coming sheer down to the sea, and tlie light 
 of the sun on them ! Eh me, what a sunset there will be this 
 night !" 
 
 " Canna ?" says Dr. Sutherland, to his interlocutor, who seems 
 very anxious to be instructed. " Oh, I don't know. Canna in 
 Gaelic is simply a can ; but then Gana is a whale ; and the isl- 
 and in the distance looks long and flat on the water. Or it may 
 be from canach — that is the moss-cotton ; or from cannach — that 
 is the sweet gale. You see, Miss Avon, ignorant people have an 
 ample choice." 
 
 Blow, breezes, blow ! as the yellow light of the afternoon 
 shines over the broad Atlantic. Here are the eastern shores of 
 Canna, high and rugged and dark with caves ; and there the 
 western shores of Rum, the mighty mountains aglow in the even- 
 ing light. And this remote and solitary little bay, with its green 
 headlands, and its awkward rocks at the mouth, and the one 
 house* presiding over it among that shining wilderness of shrubs 
 and flowers? Here is fair shelter for the night. 
 
 After dinner, in the lambent twilight, we set out with the gig, 
 and there was much preparation of elaborate contrivances for the 
 entrapping of fish. But the Laird's occuU- and intricate tackle — 
 the spinning minnows and spoons and India-rubber sand-eels — 
 proved no competitor for the couple of big white flies that An- 
 gus Sutherland had busked. And of course Mary Avon had that 
 rod ; and when some huge lithe dragged the end of tlie rod fair- 
 ly under water, and when she cried aloud, " Oh ! ohl I can't 
 hold it ; he'll break the rod !" then arose Brosc's word of com- 
 mand: 
 
 " Haul him in ! Shove out the butt ! No scientific playing 
 with a lithe! Well done! — well done! — a five-pounder, I'll bet 
 ten farthings !" 
 
 It was not scientific fishing; but we got big fish — which is of 
 more importance in the eyes of Master Fred. And then, as the 
 night fell, we set out again for the yacht ; and the doctor pulled 
 
 * Sir, our gnititiide to you ! IJetter milk, iuul more welcome, never ciime 
 from any dairy.
 
 A WILD STUDIO. 61 
 
 stroke ; and he sang some verses of tlie hiorlinn song as the 
 blades dashed fire into the rushing sea : 
 
 " Proudly o'er the waves we'll bovind her, 
 As the stag-hound bounds the heather — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen I 
 A long, strong pull together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 Through the eddying tide we'll guide her, 
 Kouud each isle and breezy headland — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 A long, strong pull together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen !" 
 
 The yellow lamp at the bow of the yacht grew larger and larger; 
 the hull of the boat looked black between us and the starlit 
 heavens ; as we clambered on board there was a golden glow 
 from the saloon skylight. And then, during the long and happy 
 evening, amidst all the whist-playing and other amusements going 
 forward, what about certain timid courtesies and an occasional 
 shy glance between those two young people ? Some of us began 
 to think that if the Laird's scheme was to come to anything, it 
 was high time that Mr. Howard Smith put in an appearance. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A WILD STUDIO. 
 
 There is a fine bustle of preparation next morning — for the 
 gig is w'aiting by the side of the yacht, and Dr. Sutherland is 
 carefully getting our artist's materials into the stern ; and the 
 Laird is busy with shawls and water-proofs ; and Master Fred 
 brings along the luncheon basket. Our admiral-in-chief prefers 
 to stay on board ; she has letters to write ; there are enough of 
 us to go and be tossed on the Atlantic swell off the great caves 
 of Canna. 
 
 And as the men strike their oars in the water, and we have a 
 last adieu, the Laird catches a glimpse of our larder at the stern 
 of the yacht. Alas ! there is but one remaining piece of fresh 
 meat hanging there under the white canvas. 
 
 " It reminds me," says he, beginning to laugh alrcad}', " of a
 
 62 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 good one that Tom Galbraith told me — a real good one that 
 was. Tom had a little bit yacht that his man and himself sailed 
 when he was painting, ye know ; and one day they got into a 
 bay where Duncan — that was the man's name — had some friends 
 ashore. Tom left him in charge of the yacht ; and — and — ha ! 
 ha ! ha ! — there was a leg of mutton hanging at the stern. Well, 
 Tom was rowed ashore ; and painted all day ; and came back to 
 the yacht in the afternoon. There ivas no leg of mutton! 
 ' Duncan,' says he, ' where is the leg of mutton ?' Duncan pre- 
 tended to be vastly surprised. ' Iss it away ?' says he. 'Away?' 
 says Tom ; ' don't you see it is away ? I want to know who 
 took it.' Duncan looked all round him — at the sea and the sky 
 — and then says he — then says he, ' Maybe it wass a dog !' — ha ! 
 ha ! hee ! hee ! hee ! — ' maybe it wass a dog,' says he ; and they 
 were half a mile from the shore ! I never see the canvas at the 
 stern of a yacht without thinking o' Tom Galbraith and the leg 
 of mutton ;" and here the Laird laughed long and loud again. 
 
 " I have heard you speak once or twice about Tom Galbraith," 
 remarked our young doctor, without meaning the least sarcasm : 
 " he is an artist, I suppose ?" 
 
 The Laird stopped laughing. There was a look of indignant 
 wonder — approaching to horror — on his face. But when he pro- 
 ceeded, with some dignity and even resentment, to explain to this 
 ignorant person the immense importance of the school that Tom 
 Galbraith had been chiefly instrumental in forming, and the high 
 qualities of that artist's personal work, and how the members of 
 the Royal Academy shook in their shoes at the mere mention 
 of Tom Galbraith's name, he became more pacified ; for Angus 
 Sutherland listened with great respect, and even promised to look 
 out for Mr. Galbraith's work if he passed through Edinburgh on 
 his way to the South. 
 
 The long, swinging stroke of the men soon took us round the 
 successive headlands, until we were once more in the open, with 
 the mountains of Skye in the north, and far away at the horizon 
 a pale line which we knew to be North Utsi. And now the 
 green shores of Canna were becoming more precipitous ; and 
 there was a roaring of the sea along the spurs of black rock ; and 
 the long Atlantic swell, breaking on the bows of the gig, was 
 sending a little more spray over us than was at all desirable. 
 Certainly no one who could have seen the doctor at this moment
 
 A WILD STUDIO. 63 
 
 — with his fresh-colored face dripping with the salt-water and 
 shining in the sunlight — would have taken him for a hard-worked 
 and anxious student. His hard work was pulling stroke oar, and 
 he certainly put his shoulders into it, as the Laird had remarked ; 
 and his sole anxiety was about Mary Avon's art materials. That 
 young lady shook the water from the two blank canvases, and 
 declared it did not matter a bit. 
 
 These lonely cliffs ! — becoming more grim and awful every 
 moment, as this mite of a boat still wrestles with the great waves, 
 and makes its way along the coast. And yet there are tender 
 greens where the pasturage appears on the high plateaus, and 
 there is a soft, ruddy hue where the basalt shines. The gloom 
 of the picture appears below — in the caves washed out of the 
 conglomerate by the heavy seas ; in the spurs and fantastic pil- 
 lars and arches of the black rock ; and in this leaden-hued Atlan- 
 tic springing high over every obstacle to go roaring and booming 
 into the caverns. And these innumerable white specks on the 
 sparse green plateaus and on this high promontory : can they be 
 mushrooms in millions? Suddenly one of the men lifts his oar 
 from the rowlock, and rattles it on the rail of the gig. At this 
 sound a cloud rises from the black rocks ; it spreads ; the next 
 moment the air is darkened over our heads ; and almost before 
 we know what has happened, this vast multitude of puffins has 
 wheeled by us, and wheeled again farther out to sea — a smoke 
 of birds ! And as we watch them, behold ! stragglers come back 
 — in thousands upon thousands, the air is filled with them — some 
 of them swooping so near us that we can see the red parrot-like 
 beak and the orange-hued web-feet, and then again the green 
 shelves of grass and the pinnacles of rock become dotted with 
 those white specks. The myriads of birds ; the black caverns ; 
 the arches and spurs of rock ; the leaden-hued Atlantic bounding 
 and springing in white foam : what says Mary Avon to that ? 
 Has she the courage ? 
 
 " If you can put me ashore ?" says she. 
 
 " Oh, we will get yon ashore somehow," Dr. Sutherland an- 
 swers. 
 
 But, indeed, the nearer we approach that ugly coast, the less 
 we like the look of it. Again and again we make for what 
 should be a sheltered bit ; but long before we can get to land we 
 can see through the plunging sea great masses of yellow, which
 
 64 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 we know to be the barnacled rock ; and then ahead we find a 
 shore that, in this heavy surf, would make match-wood of the gig 
 in three seconds. Brose, however, will not give in. If he cannot 
 get the gig on to any beach or into any creek he will land our 
 artist somehow. And at last — and in spite of the remonstrances 
 of John of Skye — he insists on having the boat backed in to a 
 projecting mass of conglomerate, all yellowed over with small 
 shell-fish, against which the sea is beating heavily. It is an ugly 
 landing-place ; we can see the yellow rock go sheer down in the 
 clear green sea; and the surf is spouting up the side in white 
 jets. But if she can watch a high wave, and put her foot there 
 — and there — will she not find herself directly on a plateau of 
 rock at least twelve feet square ? 
 
 "Back her, John ! — back her!" and therewith the doctor, 
 watching his chance, scrambles out and up to demonstrate the 
 feasibility of the thing. And the easel is handed out to him ; 
 and the palette and canvases ; and finally Mary Avon herself. 
 Nay, even the Laird will adventure, sending on before him the 
 luncheon basket. 
 
 It is a strange studio — this projecting shell-crusted rock, sur- 
 rounded on three sides by the sea, and on the fourth by an im- 
 passable cliff. And the sounds beneath our feet — there must be 
 some subterranean passage or cave into which the sea roars and 
 booms. But Angus Sutherland rigs up the easel rapidly, and ar- 
 ranges the artist's camp-stool, and sets her fairly agoing ; then he 
 proposes to leave the Laird in charge of her. He and the hum- 
 ble chronicler of the adventures of these people mean to have 
 some further explorations of this wild coast. 
 
 But we had hardly gone a quarter of a mile or so — it was hard 
 work pulling in this heavy sea — when the experienced eye of 
 Sandy from Islay saw that something was wrong. 
 
 " What's that ?" he said, staring. 
 
 We turned instantly, and strove to look through the mists of 
 spray. Where we had left the Laird and Mary Avon there were 
 now visible only two mites, apparently not bigger than puflBns. 
 But is not one of the puflins gesticulating wihlly ? 
 
 "Round with her, John !" the doctor calls out, "They want 
 us — I'm sure." 
 
 And away the gig goes again — plunging into the great troughs, 
 and then swinging up to the giddy crests. And as we get nearer
 
 A WILD STUDIO. 65 
 
 and nearer, what is tlic meaning of the Laird's frantic gestures? 
 We cannot understand him ; and it is impossible to hear, for tlie 
 booming of the sea into the caves drowns liis voice. 
 
 " He has lost his hat," says Angus Sutherland. And then, tlie 
 next second, " Where's the easel ?" 
 
 Then we understand those wild gestures. Pull away, merry 
 men! for has not a squall swept the studio of its movables? 
 And there, sure enough, tossing high and low on the waves, we 
 descry a variety of things — an easel, two canvases, a hat, a veil, 
 and what not. Up with the boat-hook to the bow ! and gently 
 with those plunges, most accurate Hector of Moidart ! 
 
 " I am so sorry," she says (or rather shrieks), when her drip- 
 ping property is restored to her. 
 
 " It was ray fault," our doctor yells ; " but I will undertake to 
 fasten your easel properly this time" — and therewith he fetches 
 a lump of rock that might have moored a man-of-war. 
 
 We stay and have luncheon in this gusty and thunderous 
 studio — though Mary Avon will scarcely turn from her canvas. 
 And there is no painting of pink geraniums about this young- 
 woman's work. We see already that she has got a thorough grip 
 of this cold, hard coast (the sun is obscured now, and the various 
 hues are more sombre than ever) ; and though she has not had 
 time as yet to try to catch the motion of the rolling sea, she has 
 got the color of it — a leaden gray, with glints of blue and white, 
 and with here and there a sudden splash of deep, rich, glassy bot- 
 tle-green, where some wave for a moment catches, just as it gets to 
 the shore, a reflection from the grass plateaus above. Very good. 
 Miss Avon ; very good — but we pretend that we are not looking. 
 
 Then away we go again, to leave the artist to her work ; and 
 we go as near as possible — the high sea will not allow us to enter 
 — the vast black caverns ; and we watch through the clear water 
 for those masses of yellow rock. And then the multitudes of 
 white-breasted, red-billed birds perched up there — close to the 
 small burrows in the scant grass; they jerk their heads about in 
 a watchful way, just like the prairie-dogs at the mouth of their 
 sandy habitations on the Colorado plains. And then again a 
 hundred or two of them come swooping down from the rocky 
 pinnacles and sail over our heads — twinkling bits of color between 
 the gray-green sea and the blue and white of the sky. They 
 resent the presence of strangers in this far home of the sea-birds. 
 
 4
 
 66 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 It is a terrible business getting that young lady and her para- 
 pliernalia back into the gig again ; for the sea is still heavy, and, 
 of course, additional care has now to be taken of the precious 
 canvas. But at last she, and the Laird, and the luncheon basket, 
 and everything else, have been got on board ; and away we go 
 for the yacht again in the now clearing afternoon. As we draw 
 farther away from the roar of the caves, it is more feasible to 
 talk ; and naturally we are all very complimentary about Mary 
 Avon's sketch in oils. 
 
 " Ay," says the Laird, " and it wants but one thing ; and I am 
 sure I could get Tom Galbraith to put that in for you. A bit 
 of a yacht, ye know, or other sailing vessel, put below the cliffs, 
 would give people a notion of the height of the cliffs, do ye see? 
 I am sure I could get Tom Galbraith to put that in for ye." 
 
 " I hope Miss Avon won't let Tom Galbraith or anybody else 
 meddle with the picture," says Angus Sutherland, with some 
 emphasis. " Why, a yacht ! Do you think anybody would let 
 a yacht come close to rocks like these? As soon as you in- 
 troduce any making-up like that, the picture is a sham. It is 
 the real thing now, as it stands. Twenty years hence you could 
 take up that piece of canvas, and there before you would be the 
 very day that you spent here; it would be like finding your old 
 life of twenty years before opened up to you with a lightning 
 flash. The picture is — why, I should say it is invaluable, as it 
 stands." 
 
 At this somewhat fierce praise Mary Avon colors a little. And 
 then she says, with a gentle hypocrisy, 
 
 " Oh, do you really think there is — there is — some likeness to 
 the place ?" 
 
 " It is the place itself !" says he, warmly. 
 
 " Because," she says, timidly, and yet with a smile, " one likes 
 to have one's work appreciated, however stupid it may be. And 
 — and if you think that — would you like to have it? Because 
 I should be so proud if you would take it — only I am ashamed 
 to offer my sketches to anybody — " 
 
 " That !" said he, staring at the canvas as if the mines of 
 Golconda were suddenly opened to him. But then he drew back. 
 " Oh no," he said ; " you are very kind ; but — but, you know, I 
 cannot. You would think I had been asking for it." 
 
 " Well," says Miss Avon, still looking down, " I never was
 
 A WILD STUDIO. 67 
 
 treated like this before. You won't take it? You don't tliiiik 
 it is worth putting in your portmanteau." 
 
 At this the young doctor's face grew very red ; but he said, 
 boldly, 
 
 "Very well, now, if you have been playing fast and loose, you 
 sliall be punished. I ivill take the picture, whether you grudge 
 it me or not. And I don't mean to give it up now." 
 
 " Oh," said she, very gently, " if it reminds you of the place, 
 I shall be very pleased ; and — and it may remind you too that I 
 am not likely to forget your kindness to poor Mrs. Thompson." 
 
 And so this little matter was amicably settled — though the 
 Laird looked with a covetous eye on that rough sketch of the 
 rocks of Canna, and regretted that he was not to be allowed to 
 ask Tom Galbraith to put in a touch or two. And so back to 
 the yacht, and to dinner in the silver-clear evening; and how 
 beautiful looked this calm bay of Canna, with its glittering waters 
 and green shores, after the grim rocks and the heavy Atlantic 
 waves ! 
 
 That evening we pursued the innocent lithe again — our lard- 
 er was becoming terribly empty — and there was a fine take. But 
 of more interest to some of us than the big fish was the extraor- 
 dinary wonder of color in sea and sky when the sun had gone 
 down ; and there was a wail on the part of the Laird that Mary 
 Avon had not her colors with her to put down some jotting for 
 further use. Or if on paper : might not she write down some- 
 thing of what she saw, and experiment thereafter? Well, if any 
 artist can make head or tail of words in such a case as this, here 
 they are for him — as near as our combined forces of observation 
 could go : 
 
 The vast plain of water around us a blaze of salmon red, with 
 the waves (catching the reflection of the zenith) marked in hori- 
 zontal lines of blue. The great headland of Canna, between us 
 and the western sky, a mass of dark, intense olive green. The 
 sky over that a pale, clear lemon yellow. But the great feature 
 of this evening scene was a mass of cloud that stretched all 
 across the heavens — a mass of flaming, thunderous, orange -red 
 cloud that began in the far pale mists in the east, and carae 
 across the blue zenith overhead, burning with a splendid glory 
 there, and then stretched over to the west, where it narrowed 
 down and was lost in the calm, clear gold of the horizon. The
 
 68 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 splendor of tins e;reat cloud was bewildering to the eyes ; one 
 turned gratefully to tbe reflection of it in the sultry red of the 
 sea below, broken by the blue lines of waves. Our attention 
 was not wholly given to the fishing or the boat on this lambent 
 evening : perhaps that was the reason we ran on a rock, and with 
 difiiculty got off again. 
 
 Then back to the yacht again about eleven o'clock. What is 
 this terrible news from Master Fred, who was sent off with in- 
 structions to hunt up any stray crofter he might find, and use 
 such persuasions in the shape of Gaelic friendliness and English 
 money as would enable us to replenish our larder ? What ! that 
 he had walked two miles and seen nothing eatable or purchasable 
 but an old hen ? Canna is a beautiful place ; but we begin to 
 think it is time to be off. 
 
 On this still night, with the stars coming out, we cannot go 
 below. We sit on deck and listen to the musical whisper along 
 the shore, and watch one golden-yellow planet rising over the 
 dusky peaks of Rum, far in the east. And our young doctor is 
 talking of the pathetic notices that are common in the Scotch 
 papers — in the advertisements of deaths. "iVew Zealand papers, 
 please cop)/." ^^ Canadian pape)'s, please copy." When you see 
 this prayer appended to the announcement of the death of some 
 old woman of seventy or seventy-five, do you not know that it is 
 a message to loved ones in distant climes, wanderers who may 
 forget but who have not been forgotten ? They are messages 
 that tell of a scattered race — of a race that once filled the glens 
 of these now almost deserted islands. And surely, when some 
 birthday or other time of recollection comes round, those far 
 away, 
 
 " Where wild Altania murmurs to their woe," 
 
 must surely bethink themselves of the old people left behind — 
 livmg in Glasgow or Greenock now, perhaps — and must bethink 
 themselves, too, of the land where last they saw the bonny red 
 heather, and where last they heard the pipes playing the sad 
 " Farewell, MacCruimin,"as the ship stood out to sea. They can- 
 not quite forget the scenes of their youth — the rough seas and 
 the red heather and the islands; the wild dancing at the wed- 
 dings; the secret meetings in the glen with Ailasa, or Morag, or 
 Mairi, come down from the sheiling, all alone, a shawl round her
 
 " DUNVEGAN ! Oil ! DUNVEGAN !" 09 
 
 licad to shelter her from the rain, her heart fluttering like the 
 heart of a timid fawn. They cannot forget. 
 
 And we, too, we are going away ; and it may be that we shall 
 never see this beautiful bay or the island there again. But one 
 of us carries away with him a talisman for the sudden revival 
 of old memories. And twenty years hence — that was his own 
 phrase — what will Angus Sutherland — perhaps a very great and 
 rich person by that time — what will he think when he turns to a 
 certain picture, and recalls the long summer day when he rowed 
 with Mary Avon round the wild shores of Canna ? 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ** DUNVEGAN ! OH ! DUNVEGAN !" 
 
 Commander Mary Avon sends her orders below : everything 
 to be made snug in the cabins, for there is a heavy sea running 
 outside, and the White Dove is already under way. Farewell, 
 then, you beautiful blue bay — all rippled into silver now with 
 the breeze — and green shores and picturesque cliffs ! We should 
 have lingered here another day or two, perhaps, but for the re- 
 port about that one old hen. We cannot ration passengers and 
 crew on one old hen. 
 
 And here, as we draw away from Canna, is the vast panorama 
 of the sea- world around us once more — the mighty mountain 
 range of Skye shining faintly in the northern skies ; Haleval 
 and Ilaskeval still of a gloomy purple in the east ; and away be- 
 yond these leagues of rushing Atlantic the pale blue line of North 
 Uist. Whither are we bound, then, you small captain with the 
 pale face and the big, soft, tender black eyes? Do you fear a 
 shower of spray, that you have strapped that tightly fitting Ulster 
 round the graceful small figure? And are you quite sure that 
 you know whether the wind is on tlie port or starboard beam ? 
 
 " Look ! look ! look !" she calls, and our F.R.S., who has been 
 busy over the charts, jumps to his feet. 
 
 Just at the bow of the vessel we see the great shining black 
 thing disappeai*. What if there liad been a collision ? 
 
 "You cannot call that a porpoise, anyway," says she. "Why, 
 it must have been eighty feet long 1"
 
 70 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 "Yes, yacht measurement," says he. "But it had a back fin, 
 which is suspicious, and it did not blow. Now," he adds — for 
 we have been looking all round for the reappearance of the huge 
 stranger — " if you want to see real whales at work, just look over 
 there, close under Rum. I should say there was a whole shoal 
 of them in the Sound." 
 
 And there, sure enough, we see from time to time the white 
 spoutings — rising high into the air in the form of the letter V, 
 and slowly falling again. They are too far away for us to liear 
 the sound of their blowing, nor can we catch any glimpse, through 
 the best of our glasses, of their appearance at the surface. More- 
 over, the solitary stranger that nearly ran against our bows makes 
 no reappearance ; he has had enough of the wonders of the 
 upper world for a time. 
 
 It is a fine sailing morning, and we pay but little attention to 
 the fact that the wind, as usual, soon gets to be dead ahead. So 
 long as the breeze blows, and the sun shines, and tlie white spray 
 flies from the bows of the White Dove, what care we which har- 
 bor is to shelter us for the night ? And if we cannot get into 
 any harbor, what then ? We carry our own kingdom with us ; 
 and we are far from being dependent on the one old hen. 
 
 But in the midst of much laughing at one of the Laird's good 
 ones — the inexhaustible Ilomesh was again to the fore — a head 
 appears at the top of the companion-way, and there is a respect- 
 ful silence. Unseemly mirth dies away before the awful dignity 
 of this person. 
 
 "Angus," she says, with a serious remonstrance on her face, 
 "do you believe what scientific people tell you?" 
 
 Angus Sutherland starts, and looks up ; he has been deep in a 
 chart of Loch Bracadaile. 
 
 " Don't they say that water finds its own level ? Now do you 
 call this water finding its own level ?" — and as she projiounds this 
 conundrum, she clings on tightly to the side of the companion, 
 foi', in truth, the White Dove is curvetting a good deal among 
 tliosc groat masses of waves. 
 
 "Another tumbler broken !" she exclaims. "Now who left 
 that tumbler on the table ?" 
 
 " I know," says Mary Avon. 
 
 " Who was it, then ?" says the occui)ant of the companion-way ; 
 and we begin to tremble for the culprit.
 
 "uUNVEGAn! — OH I DUNVEGAN !" Tl 
 
 " Why, 5'^oii yourself !" 
 
 " Mary Avon, how can you tell sucli a story !" says the other, 
 with a stern face. 
 
 " Oh, but that is so," calls out our doctor, " for I myself saw 
 you bring the tumbler out of the ladies' cabin with water for the 
 flowers." 
 
 The universal shout of laughter that overwhelms Madame Dig- 
 nity is too much for her. A certain conscious, lurking smile be- 
 gins to break through the sternness of her face. 
 
 " I don't believe a word of it," she declares, firing a shot as she 
 retreats. " Not a word of it. You are two conspirators. To 
 tell such a story about a tumbler — " 
 
 But at this moment a further assault is made on the majesty 
 of this imperious small personage. There is a thunder at the 
 bows ; a rattling as of pistol-shots on the decks forward ; and at 
 the same moment the fag-ends of the spray come flying over the 
 after-part of the yacht. What becomes of one's dignity when 
 one gets a shower of salt-water over one's head and neck? Go 
 down below, madam ! — retreat, retreat discomfited! — go, dry your 
 face and your bonny brown hair — and bother us no more with 
 your broken tumbler ! 
 
 And despite those plunging seas and the occasional showers 
 of spray, Mary Avon still clings bravely to the rope that is round 
 the tiller; and as we are bearing over for Skye on one long tack, 
 she has no need to change her position. And if from time to 
 time her face gets wet with the salt-water, is it not quickly dried 
 again in the warm sun and the breeze ? Sun and salt-water and 
 sea-air will soon chase away the pallor from that gentle face : 
 cannot one observe already — after only a few days' sailing — a 
 touch of sun-brown on her cheeks ? 
 
 And now we are drawing nearer and nearer to Skye, and be- 
 fore us lies the lonely Loch Breatal, just under the splendid Coo- 
 lins. See how the vast slopes of the mountains appear to come 
 sheer down to the lake ; and there is a soft, sunny green on them 
 — a beautiful, tender, warm color that befits a summer day. But 
 far above and beyond those sunny slopes a different sight ap- 
 pears. All the clouds of this fair day have gathered round the 
 upper portions of the mountains ; and that solitary range of 
 black and jagged peaks is dark in sliadow, dark as if with the 
 expectation of thunder. The Coolins are not beloved of mari-
 
 72 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 ners. Those beautiful sunlit ravines are the secret haunts of 
 hurricanes that suddenly come out to strike the unwary yachts- 
 man as with the blow of a hammer. Stand hy, forward, then., 
 lads ! About ship ! Down ivith the helm., Captain Avon ! — and 
 behold ! we are sailing away from the black Coolins, and ahead 
 of us there is only the open sea, and the sunlight shining on the 
 far cliffs of Canna. 
 
 " When your couree is due north," remarks Angus Sutherland, 
 who has relieved Mary Avon at the helm, " and when the wind 
 is due north, j'ou get a good deal of sailing for your money." 
 
 The profound truth of this remark becomes more and more 
 apparent as the day passes in a series of long tacks which do not 
 seem to be bringing those far headlands of Skye much nearer to 
 us. And if we are beating in this heavy sea all day and night, 
 is there not a chance of one or other of our women-folk collaps- 
 ing ? They are excellent sailors, to be sure ; but — but — 
 
 Dr. Sutherland is consulted. Dr. Sutherland's advice is prompt 
 and emphatic. His sole and only precaution against sea-sickness 
 is simple: resolute eating and drinking. Cure for sea-sickness, 
 after it has set in, he declares there is none : to prevent it, eat 
 and drink, and let the drink be brut champagne. So our two 
 prisoners are ordered below to undergo that punishment. 
 
 And, perhaps, it is the brat champagne, or perhaps it is merely 
 the snugness of our little luncheon party, that prompts Miss Avon 
 to remark on the exceeding selfishness of yachting, and to suggest 
 a proposal that fairly takes away our breath by its audacity. 
 
 " Now," she says, cheerfully, " I could tell you how you could 
 occupy an idle day on board a yacht so that you would give a 
 great deal of happiness — quite a shock of delight — to a large 
 number of people." 
 
 Well, we are all attention. 
 
 "At what cost?" says the financier of our party. 
 
 "At no cost." 
 
 This is still more promising. Why should not we instantly 
 set about making all those people happy ? 
 
 "All that you have got to do is to get a copy of the Field or 
 of the Times, or some such paper." 
 
 Yes; and how are we to get any such thing? Rum has no 
 post-office. No mail calls at Canna. Newspapers do not grow 
 on the rocks of Loch Bracadaile.
 
 " DUNVEGAN ! OH ! DUNVEGAN !" VS 
 
 " However, let us suppose that we have the paper." 
 
 " Very well. All you have to do is to sit down and take the 
 advertisements, and write to the people, accepting all their offers 
 on their own terms. The man who wants £500 for his shoot- 
 ing in the autumn ; the man who will sell his steam-yacht for 
 £7000 ; the curate who will take in another youth to board at 
 £200 a year ; the lady who wants to let her country house dur- 
 ing the London season; all the people who are anxious to sell 
 things. You offer to take them all. If a man has a yacht to 
 let on hire, you will pay for new jerseys for the men. If a man 
 has a house to be let, you will take all the fixtures at his own 
 valuation. All you have to do is to write two or three hundred 
 letters — as an anonymous person, of course — and you make two 
 or three hundred people quite delighted for perhaps a whole 
 week !" 
 
 The Laird stared at this young lady as if she iiad gone mad ; 
 but there was only a look of complacent friendliness on Mary 
 Avon's face. 
 
 " You mean that you write sham letters ?" says her hostess. 
 " You gull those unfortunate people into believing that all their 
 wishes are I'calized ?" 
 
 " But you make them happy," says Mary Avon, confidently. 
 
 " Yes — and the disappointment afterward !" retorts her friend, 
 almost with indignation. " Imagine their disappointment when 
 they find they have been duped ! Of course they would write 
 letters and discover that the anonymous person had no exist- 
 ence." 
 
 " Oh no !" says Mary Avon, eagerly. " There could be no 
 such great disappointment. The happiness would be definite 
 and real for the time. The disappointment would only be a 
 slow and gradual thing when they found no answer coming to 
 their letter. You would make them happy for a whole week or 
 so by accepting their offer ; whereas by not answering their let- 
 ter or letters you would only puzzle them, and the matter would 
 drop away into forgetfulness. Do you not think it would be an 
 excellent scheme V 
 
 Come on deck, you people ; this girl has got demented. And, 
 behold ! as we emerge once more into the sunlight and whirling 
 spray and wind, we find that we are nearing Skye again on the 
 port tack, and now it is the mouth of Loch Bracadailc that we 
 
 4*
 
 74 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 are approacliing. And these pillars of rock, outstanding from 
 the cliffs, and worn by the northern seas? 
 
 " Why, these must be Macleod's Maidens !" says Angus Suth- 
 erland, unrolling one of the charts. 
 
 And then he discourses to us of the curious fancies of sailors 
 — passing the lonely coasts from year to year, and recognizing as 
 old friends, not any living thing, but the strange conformation 
 of the rocks, and giving to these the names of persons and of 
 animals. And he thinks there is something more weird and 
 striking about these solitary and sea -worn rocks fronting the 
 great Atlantic than about any comparatively modern Sphinx or 
 Pyramid ; until we regard the sunlit pillars, and their fretted 
 surface and their sharp shadows, with a sort of morbid imagina- 
 tion ; and we discover how the sailors have fancied them to be 
 stone women ; and we see in the largest of them — her head and 
 shoulder tilted over a bit — some resemblance to the position of 
 the Venus discovered at Milo. All this is very fine; but sud- 
 denly the sea gets darkened over there ; a squall comes roaring 
 out of Loch Bracadaile ; John of Skye orders the boat about ; 
 and presently we are running free before this puff from the 
 north-cast. Alas ! alas ! we have no sooner got out of the reach 
 of the squall than the wind backs to the familiar north, and our 
 laborious beating has to be continued as before. 
 
 But we are not discontented. Is it not enough, as the golden 
 and glowing afternoon wears on, to listen to the innocent prattle 
 of Denny-mains, whose mind has been fired by the sight of those 
 pillars of rock? lie tells us a great many remarkable things 
 — about the similarity between Gaelic and Irish, and between 
 Welsh and Armorican ; and he discusses the use of the Druidical 
 stones, as to whether the priests followed serpent-worship or de- 
 voted these circles to human sacrifice. He tells us about the 
 Picts and Scots ; about Fingal and Ossian ; about the doings of 
 Arthur in his kingdom of Strathclydc. It is a most innocent 
 sort of prattle. 
 
 " Yes, sir," says Brose, quite gravely, though we are not quite 
 sure that he is not making fun of our simple-hearted Laird, 
 "there can be no doubt that the Aryan race that first swept 
 over Europe spoke a Celtic language, more or less akin to Gaelic, 
 and that they were pushed out, by successive waves of popula- 
 tion, into Brittany, and Wales, and Ireland, and the Highlands.
 
 ULXVEGAX : Oil ; ULNVEGAN 
 
 And I often wonder whether it was they themselves that modest- 
 ly called themselves the foreigners or strangers, and affixed that 
 name to the land they laid hold of, from Galicia and Gaul to 
 Galloway and Gal way ? The Gaelic word gall, a stranger, you find 
 everywhere. Fingal himself is only Fionn-fjaU — the Fair Stran- 
 ger ; Dubh-gall — that is the familiar Diigald — or the Black 
 Stranger — is what the Islay people call a Lowlander. Ru-na- 
 Gaul, ih&t wc passed the other day — that is the Foreigner's 
 Point. I think there can be no doubt that the tribes that first 
 brought Arvan civilization through the west of Europe spoke 
 Gaelic or something like Gaelic." 
 
 "Ay," said the Laird, doubtfully. He was not sure of this 
 young man. He had heard something about Gaelic being spo- 
 ken in -the Garden of Eden, and suspected there might be a joke 
 lying about somewhere. 
 
 However, there was no joking about our F.R.S. when he be- 
 gan to tell Mary Avon how, if he had time and sufficient interest 
 in such things, he would set to work to study the Basque people 
 and their language — that strange remnant of the old race who 
 inhabited the west of Europe long before Scot, or Briton, or 
 Roman, or Teuton had made his appearance on the scene. Might 
 they not have traditions, or customs, or verbal survivals to tell us 
 of their prehistoric forefathers ? The Laird seemed quite shock- 
 ed to hear that his favorite Picts and Scots — and Fingal and Ar- 
 thur and all the rest of them — were mere modern interlopers. 
 What of the mysterious race that occupied these islands before 
 the great Aryan tide swept over from the East ? 
 
 Well, this was bad enough ; but when the doctor proceeded to 
 declare his conviction that no one had the least foundation for 
 the various conjectures about the purposes of those so-called 
 Druidical stones — that it was all a matter of guess-work whether 
 as regarded council halls, grave-stones, altars, or serpent-worship 
 — and that it was quite possible these stones were erected by 
 the non-Aryan race who inhabited Europe before either Gaul or 
 Roman or Teuton came west, the Laird interrupted him, tri- 
 umphantly. 
 
 " But," says he, " the very names of those stones show they 
 are of Celtic origin — will ye dispute that? What is the mean- 
 ing of Carnac, that is in Brittany — eh ? Ye know Gaelic ?" 
 
 "Well, I know that much," said Angus, laughing. "Carnac
 
 '76 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 means simply the place of piled stones. But the Celts may have 
 found the stones there, and given them that name." 
 
 " I think," says Miss Avon, profoundly, " that when you go 
 into a question of names, you can prove anything. And I sup- 
 pose Gaelic is as accommodating as any other language." 
 
 Angus Sutherland did not answer for a moment ; but at last 
 he said, rather shyly, 
 
 "Gaelic is a very complimentary language, at all events. Bean 
 is ' a woman ;' and heannachd is ' a blessing.' An ti a bheannaick 
 thu — that is, ' the one who blessed you.' " 
 
 Very pretty ; only we did not know how wildly the young 
 man might not be falsifying Gaelic grammar in order to say 
 something nice to Mary Avon. 
 
 Patience works wonders. Dinner-time finds us so far. across 
 the Minch that we can make out the light-house of South Uist. 
 And all these outer Hebrides are now lying in a flood of golden- 
 red light ; and on the cliffs of Canna, far away in the south-east, 
 and now dwarfed so that they lie like a low wall on the sea, there 
 is a paler red, caught from the glare of the sunset. And here is 
 the silver tinkle of Master Fred's bell. 
 
 On deck after dinner ; and the night air is cooler now ; and 
 there are cigars about; and our young F.R.S. is at the tiller; 
 and Mary Avon is singing, apparently to herself, something 
 about a Berkshire farmer's daughter. The darkness deepens, 
 and the stars come out ; and there is one star — larger than the 
 rest, and low down, and burning a steady red — that we know to 
 be Ushinish light-house. And then from time to time the si- 
 lence is broken by ''^ Stand bi/, forrard / ''Bout shij) P'' and there 
 is a rattling of blocks and cordage, and then the head-sails fill, 
 and away she goes again on the other tack. "VVc have got up to 
 the long headlands of Skye at last. 
 
 Clear as the night is, the wind still comes in squalls, and we 
 have the top-sail down. Into which indentation of that long, 
 low line of dark land shall we creep in the darkness? 
 
 But John of Skye keeps away from the land. It is past mid- 
 night. There is nothing visible but the black sea and the clear 
 sky, and the red star of the light-house ; nothing audible but 
 Mary Avon's humming to herself and her friend — the two wom- 
 en sit arm-in-arm under half a dozen of rugs — some old-world 
 ballad to the monotonous accompaniment of the passing seas.
 
 " DUNVEGAN ! Oil ! DUNVEGAN !" 77 
 
 One o'clock : Usliinish light is smaller now, a minute point of 
 red fire, and the black line of land on our right looms larger in 
 the dusk. Look at the splendor of the phosphorous stars on the 
 rushing waves ! 
 
 And at last John of Skye says, in an undertone, to Angus, 
 
 "Will the leddies be going below now f 
 
 "Going below !" he says, in reply. "They are waiting till we 
 get to anchor. We must be just oflE Dunvegan Loch now." 
 
 Then John of Skye makes his confession. 
 
 " Oh yes ; I been into Dunvegan Loch more as two or three 
 times ; but I not like the dark to be with us in going in ; and 
 if we lie off till the daylight comes, the leddies they can go be- 
 low to their peds. And if Dr. Sutherland himself would like to 
 see the. channel in going in, will I send below when the day- 
 light comes ?" 
 
 " No, no, John ; thank you," is the answer. "When I turn in, 
 I turn in for good. I will leave you to find out the channel for 
 yourself." 
 
 And so there is a clearance of the deck, and rugs and camp- 
 stools handed down the companion. Deoch-an-doruis in the 
 candle-lit saloon ? To bed — to bed ! 
 
 It is about five o'clock in the morning that the swinging out 
 of the anchor chain causes the yacht to tremble from stem to 
 stern ; and the sleepers start in their sleep, but are vaguely aware 
 that they are at a safe anchoi-age at last. And do you know 
 where the brave White Dove is lying now ? Surely if the new 
 dawn brings any stirring of wind — and if there is a sound com- 
 ing over to us from this far land of legend and romance — it is 
 the wild, sad wail of Dunvegan ! The mists are clearing from 
 the hills ; the day breaks wan and fair ; the great gTay castle, 
 touched by the early sunlight, looks down on the murmuring sea. 
 And is it the sea, or is it the cold wind of the morning, that 
 sings and sings to us in our dreams : 
 
 " Dunvegan— oh ! DunveKau !"
 
 WUXTE WIXGS: A VACUTING KOMAAX'E. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 DRAWING NEARER. 
 
 She is all alone on deck. The morning sun shines on the 
 beautiful blue bay, on the great castle perched on the rocks over 
 there, and on the wooded green hills beyond. She has got a can- 
 vas fixed on her easel ; she sings to herself as she works. 
 
 Now this English young lady must have beguiled the tedium 
 of her long nursing in Edinburgh by making a particular ac- 
 quaintance with Scotch ballads ; or how otherwise could we ac- 
 count for her knowledge of the " Song of Ulva," and now of the 
 " Song of Dunvegan ?" 
 
 " Macleod the faithful, and fearing none ! — 
 Dunvegan — oh ! Dunvegan !" 
 
 — she hums to herself as she is busy with this rough sketch of 
 sea and shore. How can she be aware that Angus Sutherland 
 is at this very moment in the companion-way, and not daring to 
 stir hand or foot lest he should disturb her ? 
 
 " Friends and foes had our passion thwarted," 
 
 she croons to herself, though indeed there is no despair at all in 
 her voice, but a perfect contentment — 
 
 "But true, tender, and lion-hearted, 
 Lived he on, and from life departed, 
 
 Macleod, whose rival is breathing none! — 
 Dunvegan — oh ! Dunvegan !" 
 
 She is pleased with the rapidity of her work. She tries to whis- 
 tle a little bit. Or perhaps it is only the fresh morning air that 
 has put her in such good spirits ? 
 
 " Yestreen the Queen had four Maries." 
 What has that got to do with the sketch of the shining gray
 
 DRAWING NEARER. V9 
 
 castle? Among these tags and ends of ballads, the young doc- 
 tor at last becomes emboldened to put in an appearance, 
 
 " Good-morning, Miss Avon," says he ; " you are busy at work 
 again ?" 
 
 She is not in the least surprised. She has got accustomed to 
 his coming on deck before the others ; they have had a good 
 deal of quiet chatting while as yet the Laird was only adjusting 
 his high white collar and satin neckcloth. 
 
 " It is only a sketch," said she, in a rapid and highly business- 
 like fashion, " but I think T shall be able to sell it. You know 
 most people merely value pictures for their association with things 
 they are interested in themselves. A Yorkshire farmer would 
 rather have a picture of his favorite cob than any Raphael or 
 Titian, And the ordinary English squire — I am sure that you 
 know in his own heart he prefers one of Herring's farm-yard 
 pieces to Leonai'do's ' Last Supper.' AVell, if some yachting gen- 
 tleman who has been in this loch should see this sketch, he will 
 probably buy it, how-ever bad it is, just because it interests him — " 
 
 " But you don't really mean to sell it !" said he. 
 
 " That depends,'' said she, demurely, " on whether I get any 
 offer for it." 
 
 " Why," he exclaimed, " the series of pictures you are now 
 making should be an invaluable treasure to you all your life-long 
 —a permanent record of a voyage that you seem to enjoy very 
 much. I almost shrink from robbing you of that one of Canna; 
 still, the temptation is too great. And vou propose to sell them 
 all ?" 
 
 " What I can sell of them," she says. And then she adds, 
 rather shyly : " You know I could not very well afford to keep 
 them all for myself. I — I have a good many almoners in Lon- 
 don ; and I devote to them what I can get for my scrawls ; that 
 is, I deduct the cost of the frames, and keep the rest for them. 
 It is not a large sum." 
 
 " Any otlier woman w'ould spend it in jewellery and dresses," 
 says he, bluntly. 
 
 At this Miss Mary Avon flushes slightly, and hastily draws his 
 attention to a small boat that is approaching. Dr. Sutlierland 
 does not pay any heed to the boat. 
 
 lie is silent for a second or so ; and then he says, with an ef- 
 fort to talk in a cheerful and matter-of-fact way :
 
 80 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " You have not sent ashore yet this morning : don't you tnow 
 there is a post-office at Dunvegan ?" 
 
 " Oh yes ; I heard so. But the men are below at breakfast, 
 I think, and I am in no huny to send, for there won't be any 
 letters for me, I know." 
 
 " Oh, indeed," he says, with seeming carelessness. " It must 
 be a long time since you have heard from your friends." 
 
 " I have not many friends to hear from," she answers, with a 
 light laugh, " and those I have don't trouble me with many let- 
 ters. I suppose they think I am in very good hands at present." 
 
 " Oh yes ; no doubt," says he ; and suddenly he begins to 
 talk in warm terms of the delightfulness of the voj^age. He is 
 <|uite charmed with the appearance of Dunvegan loch and castle. 
 A more beautiful morning he never saw. And in the midst of 
 all this enthusiasm the small boat comes along-side. 
 
 There is an old man in the boat, and when he has fastened his 
 oars he says a few words to Angus Sutherland, and hands up a 
 big black bottle. Our young doctor brings the bottle over to 
 Mary Avon. He seems to be very much pleased with everything 
 this morning. 
 
 " Now, is not that good-natured ?" says he. " It is a bottle 
 
 of fresh milk, with the compliments of , of Uginish.* 
 
 Isn't it good-natured ?" 
 
 " Oh, indeed it is," says she, plunging her hand into her pock- 
 et. "You must let me give the messenger half a crown." 
 
 "No, no; that is not the Highland custom," says the doctor; 
 and therewith he goes below, and fetches up another black bot- 
 tle, and pours out a glass of whiskey with his own hand, and pre- 
 sents it to the ancient boatman. You should have seen the look 
 of surprise in the old man's face when Angus Sutherland said 
 something to him in the Gaelic. 
 
 And alas ! and alas ! as we go ashore on this beautiful bright 
 day, we have to give up forever the old Dunvegan of many a 
 dream ; the dark and solitary keep that we had imagined perch- 
 ed liigh above the Atlantic breakers; the sheer precipices, the 
 awfiil sterility, the wail of lamentation along the lonely shores. 
 This is a different picture altogether that Mary Avon has been 
 trying to put down on her canvas — a spacious, almost modern- 
 
 * Sir, it is well done of you to pay tliat pretty conipliment to strangers.
 
 DRAWING NEARER. 81 
 
 looking-, but nevertlicless picturesque castle, sheltered from tlie 
 winds by softly wooded hills, a bit of smooth blue water below, 
 and farther along the shores the cheerful evidences of fertility 
 and cultivation. The wail of Dunvegan ? Why, here is a brisk 
 and thriving village, with a post-office, and a shop, and a building 
 that looks uncommonly like an inn ; and there, dotted all about, 
 and encroaching on the upper moorland, any number of those 
 small crofts that were once the pride of the Highlands, and that 
 gave to England the most stalwart of her regiments. Ilere are 
 no ruined huts and voiceless wastes, but a cheerful, busy picture 
 of peasant life ; the strapping wenches at work in the small 
 farm-yards, well built and frank of face ; the men well clad ; the 
 children well fed and merry enough. It is a scene that delights 
 the heart of our good friend of Denny-mains. If we had but 
 time, he would fain go in among the tiny farms, and inquire 
 about the rent of the holdings, and the price paid for those pict- 
 uresque little beasts that the artists are forever painting — with a 
 lowering sky beyond, and a dash of sunlight in front. But our 
 doctor is obdurate. He will not have Mary Avon walk farther; 
 she must return to the yacht. 
 
 But on our way back, as she is walking by the side of the 
 road, he suddenly puts his hand on her arm, apparently to stop 
 her. Slight as the touch is, she naturally looks surprised. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he says, hastily, " but I thought you 
 would rather not tread on it — " 
 
 He is looking at a weed by the way-side — a thing that looks 
 like a snap-dragon of some sort. We did not expect to find a 
 hard-headed man of science betray this trumpery sentiment 
 about a weed. 
 
 " I thought you would rather not tread upon it when you 
 knew it was a stranger," he says, in explanation of that rude as- 
 sault upon her arm. " That is not an English plant at all ; it is 
 the Mimulus ; its real home is in America." 
 
 We began to look with more interest on the audacious small 
 foreigner that had boldly adventured across the seas. 
 
 " Oh," she says, looking back along the road, " I hope I have 
 not trampled any of them down." 
 
 "Well, it does not much matter," he admits, "for the plant is 
 becoming quite common now in parts of the West Highlands ; 
 but I thought as it was a stranger, and come all the way across
 
 82 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 the Atlantic on a voyage of discovery, yon wonld be hospitable. 
 I suppose the Gulf Stream brought the first of them over." 
 
 " And if they had any choice in the matter," says Mary Avon, 
 looking down, and speaking with a little self-conscious delibera- 
 tion, " and if they wanted to be hospitably received, they showed 
 their good sense in coming to the West Highlands." 
 
 After that there was a dead silence on the part of Angus Suth- 
 erland, But why should he have been embarrassed ? There 
 was no compliment levelled at him, that he should blush like a 
 school -boy. It was quite true that Miss Avon's liking — even 
 love — for the West Highlands was becoming very apparent ; but 
 Banffshire is not in the West Highlands. AAliat although Angus 
 Sutherland could speak a few words in the Gaelic tongue to an 
 old boatman ? He came from Banff. Banffshire is not in the 
 W^est Highlands. 
 
 Then that afternoon at the great castle itself : what have we 
 but a confused recollection of twelfth-century towers ; and walls 
 nine feet thick ; and ghost cliambers ; and a certain fairy flag, 
 that is called the Bratach-Sith ; and the wide view over the blue 
 Atlantic ; and of a great kindness that made itself visible in the 
 way of hot -house flowers and baskets of fruit, and what not? 
 The portraits, too : the various centuries got mixed up with the 
 old legends, until we did not know in which face to look for 
 some transmitted expi'ession that might tell of the Cave of Uig 
 or the Uamh-na-Ceann. But there was one portrait there, quite 
 modern and beautiful, that set all the tourist folk a- raving, so 
 lovely were the life - like eyes of it ; and the Laird was bold 
 enough to say to the gentle lady Avho was so good as to be our 
 guide,* that it would be one of the greatest happinesses of his 
 life if he might be allowed to ask Mr. Galbraith, the well-known 
 artist of Edinburgh, to select a young painter to come up to Dun- 
 vegan and make a copy of this picture for him, Denny-mains. 
 And Dr. Sutherland could scarcely come away from that beauti- 
 ful face ; and our good Queen T was quite charmed with it; 
 
 * This is a strange thing : if one were to go and ask the people of St. 
 Kihla if they knew of any angel walking anywhere on the earth, they would 
 all of them — man, woman, and child — answer with but the one name ; and 
 further, if one were to ask of them where, wlien she was not visiting them, 
 she was to ))c found, they would answer with tlie like unanimity — "Dun- 
 ve'jan !"
 
 DRAWING NEARER. 83 
 
 and as for Mary Avon, when one of us regarded her, behold ! as 
 she looked up, there was a sort of moisture in the soft black eyes. 
 ^Vhat was she thinking of ? That it must be a fine thing to 
 be so beautiful a woman, and charm the eyes of all men ? But 
 now — now that we had had this singing-bird with us on board 
 the yacht for so long a time — would any one of us have admit- 
 ted that she was rather plain ? It would not have gone well 
 with any one who had ventured to say so to the Laird of Denny- 
 mains, at all events. And as for our sovereign lady and mistress, 
 these were the lines which she always said described Mary Avon: 
 
 " Was never seen thing to be praised derre,* 
 Nor under blacke clouds so bright a sterre, 
 As she was, as they saidcn, every one 
 That her bcheldeu in her blaclve weed ; 
 And yet she stood, full low and still, alone, 
 Behind all other folk, in little brede,t 
 And nigh the door, ay, under shame's drede ; 
 Simple of bearing, debonair of cheer, 
 With a full sure| looking and mannere." 
 
 How smart the saloon of the White Dove looked that evening 
 at dinner, with those geraniums, and roses, and fuchsias, and what 
 not, set amidst the tender green of the maiden-hair fern ! But 
 all the same there was a serious discussion. Fruit, flowers, vege- 
 tables, and fresh milk, however welcome, fill no larder ; and Mas- 
 ter Fred had returned with the doleful tale that all his endeavors 
 to purchase a sheep at one of the neighboring farms had been of 
 no avail. Forthwith we resolved to make another effort. Far 
 away, on the outer shores of Dunvegan Loch, we can faintly de- 
 scry, in the glow of the evening, some crofter's huts on the slopes 
 of the hill. Down with the gig, then, boys ! in with the fishing- 
 rods ! and away for the distant shores, where haply some tender ewe- 
 lamb, or brace of quacking ducks, or some half dozen half-starved 
 fowls may be withdrawn from the reluctant tiller of the earth ! 
 
 It is a beautiful clear evening, with a lemon-gold glory in the 
 north-west. And our stout-sinewed doctor is rowing stroke, and 
 there is a monotonous refrain of 
 
 " Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 A long, strong pull together — 
 Ho, ro, clansmen !" 
 
 * Bcnr, dear. f In little bi-ede, without display. f Sure, frank.
 
 84 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTIXG ROMANCE. 
 
 " We must give you a wage as one of the hands, Angus," says 
 Queen T . 
 
 " I am paid ah-eady," says he. " I would work my passage 
 through for the sketch of Canna that Miss Avon gave me." 
 
 " Would you like to ask the other men whether they would 
 take the same payment ?" says Miss Avon, in modest depreciation 
 of her powers. 
 
 " Do not say anything against the landscape yc gave to Dr. 
 Sutherland," observes the Laird. " No, no ; there is great merit 
 in it. I have told ye before I would like to show it to Tom Gal- 
 braith before it goes South ; I am sure he would approve of it. 
 Indeed, he is jist such a friend of mine that I would take the 
 leeberty of asking him to give it a bit touch here and there — 
 what an experienced artist would see amiss, ye know — " 
 
 " Mr. Galbraith may be an experienced artist," says our doctor 
 friend, with unnecessary aspei'ity, " but he is not going to touch 
 that picture." 
 
 " Ah can tell ye," says the Laird, who is rather hurt by this re- 
 jection, " that the advice of Tom Galbraith has been taken by the 
 greatest artists in England. He was up in London last year, and 
 was at the studio of one of the first of the Acadameecians, and 
 that very man was not ashamed to ask the opeenion of Tom Gal- 
 braith. And says Tom to him, 'The face is very fine, but the 
 right arm is out of drawing.' You would think that imperti- 
 nent? The Acadameecian, I can tell you, thought differently. 
 Says he, ' That has been my own opeenion, but no one would 
 ever tell me so ; and I would have left it as it is had ye no 
 spoken.' " 
 
 " I have no doubt the Academician who did not know when 
 his picture was out of drawing was quite right to take the advice 
 of Tom Galbraith," says our stroke oar. " But Tom Galbraith is 
 not going to touch Miss Avon's sketch of Canna — " And here 
 the fierce altercation is stopped, for stroke oar puts a fresh spurt 
 on, and we hear another sound : 
 
 " Soon tlic frpshcning hrcczc will blow. 
 We'll show the snowy canvas on her — 
 
 IIo, ro, clansmen ! 
 A long, strong pull tog<'thcr — 
 
 llo, ro, clansmen !" 
 
 Well, what was the result of our quest? After we liad landed
 
 DRAWING NEARER, 85 
 
 Master Fred, and sent him up the hills, and gone off fishing for 
 lithe for an hour or so, we returned to the shore in the gathering 
 dusk. We found our messenger seated on a rock, contentedly 
 singing a Gaelic song, and plucking a couple of fowls, which was 
 all the provender he had secured. It was in vain that he tried 
 to cheer us by informing us that the animals in question had 
 cost only sixpence apiece. We knew that they were not much 
 bigger than thrushes. Awful visions of tinned meats began to 
 rise before us. In gloom we took the steward and the micro- 
 scopic fowls on board, and set out for the yacht. 
 
 But the Laird did not lose his spirits. He declared that self- 
 preservation was the first law of nature, and that, despite the in- 
 junctions of the Wild Birds' Protection Act, he would get out his 
 gun and shoot the very first brood of " flappers " he saw about 
 those lonely lochs. And he told us such a "good one" about 
 Ilomesh that we laughed nearly all the way back to the yacht. 
 Provisions ? We were independent of provisions ! With a hand- 
 ful of rice a day we would cross the Atlantic — we would cross 
 twenty Atlantics — so long as we were to be regaled and cheered 
 by the " good ones " of our friend of Denny-mains. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland, too, seemed in no wise depressed by the famine 
 in the land. In the lamp-lit saloon, as we gathered round the 
 table, and cards and things were brought out, and the Laird be- 
 gan to brew his toddy, the young doctor maintained that no one 
 on land could imagine the snugness of life on board a yacht. 
 And now he had almost forgotten to speak of leaving us ; per- 
 haps it was the posting of the paper on Radiolarians, along with 
 other MSS., that had set his mind free. But touching that mat- 
 ter of the Dunvegan post-ofiice : why had he been so particular 
 in asking Mary Avon if she were not expecting letters ? and why 
 did he so suddenly grow enthusiastic about the scenery on learn- 
 ing that the young lady, on her' travels, was not pestered with 
 correspondence ? Miss Avon was not a Cabinet Minister.
 
 86 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER XTI. 
 
 THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW. 
 
 The last instructions given to John of Skye that night were 
 large and liberal. At break of day he was to sail for any port 
 he might chance to encounter on the wide seas. So long as An- 
 gus Sutherland did not speak of returning, what did it matter to 
 us? — Loch Boisdale, Loch Seaforth, Stornoway, St. Kilda, the 
 North Pole, were all the same. It is true that of fresh meat we 
 had on board only two fowls about the size of wrens ; but of all 
 varieties of tinned meats and fruit we had an abundant store. 
 And if perchance we were forced to shoot a sheep on the Flan- 
 nen Islands, would not the foul deed be put down to the discred- 
 it of those dastardly Frenchmen ? When you rise up as a nation 
 and guillotine all the respectable folk in the country, it is only to 
 be expected of you thereafter that you should go about the seas 
 shooting other people's sheep. 
 
 And indeed when we get on deck after breakfast, we find that 
 John of Skye has fulfilled his instructions to the letter; that is 
 to say, he niust have started at daybreak to get away so far from 
 Dun vegan and the headlands of Skye. But as for going far- 
 ther ? There is not a speck of cloud in the dome of blue ; there 
 is not a ripple on the blue sea; there is not a breath of wind to 
 stir the great white sails all aglow in the sunlight; nor is there 
 even enough of the Atlantic swell to move the indolent tiller. 
 How John of Skye has managed to bring us so far on so calm a 
 morning remains a mystery. 
 
 "And the glass shows no signs of falling," says our young 
 doctor, quite regretfully : does he long for a liurricane, that so 
 he may exhibit his sailor-like capacities? 
 
 But Mary Avon, with a practical air, is arranging her easel on 
 deck, and fixing up a canvas, and getting out the tubes she wants 
 — the while she absently sings to herself something about
 
 THE oLn SCHOOL and the new. bi 
 
 " Beauty lies 
 In many eyes, 
 But love in yours, my Nora Creina." 
 
 And wliat will she attack now ? Those long headlands of Skye, 
 dark in shadow, with a. glow of sunlight along their summits; or 
 those lonely hills of Uist set far amidst the melancholy main ; or 
 those vaster and paler mountains of llarris, that rise on the north 
 of the dreaded Sound ? 
 
 " Well, you have courage," says Angus Sutherland, admiringly, 
 " to try to make a picture out of that /" 
 
 " Oh," she says, modestly, though she is obviously pleased, 
 " that is a pet theory of mine. I try for ordinary every-day ef- 
 fects, without any theatrical business ; and if I had only the pow- 
 er to reach them, I know I should surprise people. Because, you 
 know, most people go through the world with a sort of mist be- 
 fore their eyes; and they are awfully grateful to you when you 
 suddenly clap a pair of spectacles on their nose and make them 
 see things as they are. I cannot do it as yet, you know; but 
 there is no harm in trying." 
 
 " I think you do it remarkably well," he says ; " but what are 
 you to make of that? — nothing but two great sheets of blue, 
 with a line of bluer hills between ?" 
 
 But Miss Avon speedily presents us with the desired pair of 
 spectacles. Instead of the cloudless blue day we had imagined 
 it to be, we find that there are low masses of white cloud along 
 the Skye clifEs, and these throw long reflections on the glassy sea, 
 and, moreover, we begin to perceive that the calm vault around 
 us is not an uninterrupted blue, but melts into a pale green as it 
 nears the eastern horizon. Angus Sutherland leaves the artist to 
 her work. He will not interrupt her by idle talk. 
 
 There is no idle talk going forward where the Laird is con- 
 cerned. He has got liold of an attentive listener in the person 
 of his hostess, who is deep in needle-work ; and he is expound- 
 ing to her more clearly than ever the merits of the great Semple 
 case, pointing out more particularly how the charges in the major 
 proposition are borne out by the extracts in the minor. Yes ; 
 and he has caught the critics, too, on the hip. What about the 
 discovery of those clever gentlemen that Genesis x. and 10 was 
 incorrect? They thought they were exceedingly smart in prov- 
 ing that the founders of Babel were the descendants, not of Ham, 
 
 5
 
 88 WHITE wings: a YACHTiNa romance. 
 
 but of Shem. But wlieu the ruins of Babel were examined, 
 what then ? 
 
 " Why, it was distinctly shown that the founders were the de- 
 scendants of Ham, after all !" says Denny-mains, triumphantly. 
 " What do ye think of that, Dr. Sutherland «" 
 
 Angus Sutherland starts from a reverie : he has not been lis- 
 tening. 
 
 " Of what ?" he says. " The Scmple case ?" 
 
 "Ay." 
 
 " Oh, well," he says, rather carelessly, " all that wrangling is as 
 good an occupation as any other — to keep people from thinking." 
 
 The Laird stares, as if he had not heard aright. Angus Suth- 
 erland is not aware of having said anything startling. He con- 
 tinues, quite innocently : 
 
 "Any occupation is valuable enough that diverts the mind — 
 that is why hard work is conducive to complete mental health ; 
 it does not matter whether it is grouse-shooting, or commanding 
 an army, or wrangling about major or minor propositions. If a 
 man were continually to be facing the awful mystery of existence 
 — asking the record of the earth and the stars how he came to 
 be here, and getting no answer at all — he must inevitably go 
 mad. The brain could not stand it. If the human race had not 
 busied itself with wars and commerce, and so forth, it must cen- 
 turies ago have committed suicide. That is the value of hard 
 work — to keep people from thinking of the unknown around 
 them : the more a man is occupied, the happier he is ; it does 
 not matter whether he occupies himself with School Boards, or 
 salmon-fisliing, or the prosecution of a hei'ctic." 
 
 He did not remark the amazed look on the Laird's face, nor 
 yet that Mary Avon had dropped her painting and was listening. 
 
 " The fact is," he said, with a smile, " if you are likely to fall 
 to thinking about the real mysteries of existence anywhere, it is 
 among solitudes like these, where you see what a trivial little ac- 
 cident human life is in the history of the earth. You can't think 
 about such things in Regent Street ; the cigar shops, the cabs, 
 the passing people, occupy you. But here you are brought back, 
 as it were, to all sorts of first principles ; and commonplaces ap- 
 pear somehow in their original freshness. In Regent Street you 
 no doubt know that life is a strange thing, and that death is a 
 strange thing, because you have been told so, and you believe it,
 
 THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW. 89 
 
 and think no more about it. But licre, witli the seas and skies 
 round you, and witli the silence of the night making you tliink, 
 you feel tlie strangeness of these tilings. Now just look over 
 there ; the blue sea, and the blue sky, and the hills, it is a curious 
 thing to think that they will be shining there just as they are 
 now, on just such another day as this, and you unable to see 
 them or anything else — passed away like a ghost. And the 
 White Dove will be sailing up here ; and John will be keeping 
 an eye on Ushinish Light-house ; but your eyes won't be able to 
 see anything — " 
 
 " Well, Angus, I do declare," exclaims our sovereign mistress, 
 " you have chosen a comfortable thing to talk about this morn- 
 ing! Are we to be always thinking about our coffin?" 
 
 " On the contrary," says the young doctor, " I was only insist- 
 ing on the wholesomeness of people occupying themselves dili- 
 gently with some distraction or other, however trivial. And 
 how do you think the Semple case will end, sir V 
 
 But our good friend of Denny-mains was far too deeply shock- 
 ed and astounded to reply. The great Semple case a trivial thing 
 — a distraction — an occupation to keep people from serious 
 thinking ! The public duties, too, of the Commissioner for the 
 Burgh of Strathgovan — were these to be regarded as a mere play- 
 thing ? The new steam fire-engine was only a toy, then ? The 
 proposed new park and the addition to the rates were to be re- 
 garded as a piece of amiable diversion ? 
 
 The Laird knew that Angus Sutherland had not read the Ves- 
 tiges of Creation, and that was a hopeful sign. But, Vestiges or 
 no Vestiges, what were the young men of the day coming to, if 
 their daring speculation led them to regard the most serious and 
 important concerns of life as a pastime ? The Commissioners for 
 the Burgh of Strathgovan were but a parcel of children, then, 
 playing on the sea-shore, and unaware of the awful deeps be- 
 yond ? 
 
 "I am looking at these things only as a doctor," says Dr. 
 Sutherland, lightly — seeing that the Laird is too durafounded to 
 answer his question, " and I sometimes think a doctors history 
 of civilization would be an odd thing, if only you could get at 
 the physiological facts of the case. I should like to know, for 
 example, what Napoleon had for supper on the night before 
 Waterloo ; something indigestible, you may be sure. If his
 
 90 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 brain bad been clear on the loth, be would have smasbed tbe Al- 
 lies, and altered modern history. I should have greatly liked, 
 too, to make the acquaintance of tbe man who first announced 
 his belief that infants dying unbaptized were to suffer eternal tort- 
 ure : I think it must have been bis liver. I should like to have 
 examined him." 
 
 " I should like to have poisoned him !*' says Mary Avon, with a 
 flash of anger in the soft eyes. 
 
 " Oh no ; the poor wretch was only the victim of some ail- 
 ment," said our doctor, charitably. " There must have been 
 something very much the matter with Calvin, too. I know I 
 could have cured Schopenhauer of his pessimism if he had let 
 me put him on a wholesome regimen." 
 
 The Laird probably did not know who Schopenhauer was ; but 
 the audacity of the new school was altogether too much for him. 
 
 " I — I suppose," he said, stammering in his amazement, " ye 
 would have taken Joan of Arc and treated her as a lunatic ?" 
 
 " Oh no ; not as a confirmed lunatic," he answered, quite sim- 
 ply. " But the diagnosis of that case is obvious ; I think she 
 cuuld have been cured. All that Joanna Southcote wanted was 
 a frank physician." 
 
 The Laird rose and went forward to where Mary Avon was 
 standing at her easel. She instantly resumed her work, and pre- 
 tended not to have been listening. 
 
 "Very good — very good," says he, as if his whole attention 
 had been occupied by her sketching. "The reflections on the 
 water are just fine. Ye must let me show all your sketches to 
 Tom Galbraith before ye go back to the South." 
 
 " I hear you have been talking about the mysteries of exist- 
 ence," she says, with a smile. 
 
 " Oh ay, it is easy to talk," he says, sharply, and not willing to 
 confess that he lias been driven away from the field. " 1 am 
 afraid there is an unsettling tendency among the young men 
 of the present day — a want of respect for things that have been 
 established by tbe common-sense of the world. Not that I am 
 against all innovation. No, no. Tbe world cannot stand still. 
 I myself, now ; do ye know that I was among the first in Glas- 
 gow to hold that it might be permissible to have an organ to 
 lead the psalmody of a church ?" 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" says she, with much respect.
 
 THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW. 91 
 
 " That is true. No, no ; I am not one of the bigoted. Give 
 me the Essentials, and I do not care if ye put a stone cross on 
 the top of the church. I tell ye that honestly ; I would not ob- 
 ject even to a cross on the building, if all was sound within." 
 
 "I am sure you are quite right, sir," says Mary Avon, gently. 
 
 " But no tampering with the Essentials. And as for the mil- 
 linery, and incense, and crucifixes of they poor craytures that 
 have not the courage to go right over to Rome — who stop on 
 this side, and play-act at being Romans — it is seeckening, per- 
 fectly seeckening. As for the Romans themselves, I do not con- 
 demn them. No, no. If they are in error, I doubt not they be- 
 lieve with a good conscience. And when I am in a foreign town, 
 and one o' their processions of priests and boys comes by, I raise 
 my hat. I do indeed." 
 
 " Oh, naturally," says Mary Avon. 
 
 " No, no," continues Denny-mains, warmly, " there is none of 
 the bigot about me. There is a minister of the Episcopalian 
 Church that I know, and there is no one more welcome in my 
 house : I ask him to say grace just as I would a minister of my 
 own Church." 
 
 " And which is that, sir ?" she asked, meekly. 
 
 The Laird stares at her. Is it possible that she has heard him 
 so elaborately expound the Semple prosecution, and not be aware 
 to what denomination he belongs? 
 
 " The Free — the Free Church, of course," he says, with some 
 surprise. " Have ye not seen the Report of Proceedings in the 
 Semple case?" 
 
 " No, I have not," she answers, timidly. " You have been so 
 kind in explaining it that — that a printed report was quite un- 
 necessary." 
 
 " But I will get ye one — I will get ye one directly," says he. 
 " I have several copies in my portmanteau. And ye will see my 
 name in front as one of the elders who considered it fit and prop- 
 er that a full report should be published, so as to warn the public 
 against these inseedious attacks against our faith. Don't inter- 
 rupt your work, my lass. But I will get ye the pamphlet ; and 
 whenever you want to sit down for a time, ye will find it most 
 interesting reading — most interesting." 
 
 And so the worthy Laird goes below to fetch that valued re- 
 port. And scarcely has he disappeared than a sudden com mo-
 
 92 WHITE AVINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 tion rages over tlie deck. Behold ! a breeze coming swiftly over 
 the sea, ruffling the glassy deep as it approaches ! Angus Suth- 
 'erland jumps to the tiller. The head-sails fill, and the boat be- 
 gins to move. The lee-sheets are hauled taut ; and now the great 
 main-sail is filled too. There is a rippling and hissing of water, 
 and a new stir of life and motion throughout the vessel from 
 stem to stern. 
 
 It seems but the beginning of the day now, though it is near 
 lunch-time. Mary Avon puts away her sketch of the dead calm, 
 and sits dow^n just under the lee of the boom, where the cool 
 breeze is blowing along. The Laird, having brought up the pam- 
 phlet, is vigorously pacing the deck for his morning exercise ; we 
 have all awakened from these idle reveries about the mystery of 
 life. 
 
 " Ha, ha," he says, coming aft, " this is fine — this is fine now ! 
 Why not give the men a glass of whiskey all round for whistling 
 up such a fine breeze ? Do ye think they would object ?" 
 
 " Better give them a couple of bottles of beer for their din- 
 ner," suggests Queen T , who is no lover of whiskey. 
 
 But do you think the Laird is to be put off his story by any 
 such suggestion ? We can see by his face that he has an anec- 
 dote to fire off. Is it not apparent that his mention of whiskey 
 was made with a purpose ? 
 
 " There was a real good one," says he — and the laughter is al- 
 ready twinkling in his eyes — " about the man that was apologiz- 
 ing before his family for having been drinking whiskey with 
 some friends. 'Ay,' says he, 'they just held me and forced it 
 down my throat.' Then says his son — a little chap about ten — 
 says he, 'I think I could ha' held ye mysel, feyther' — ho! ho! 
 ho ! says he, 'I think I could ha' held ye mysel, feyther;'" and 
 the Laird laughed, and laughed again, till the tears came into his 
 eyes. We could see that he was still internally laughing at that 
 good one when we went below for luncheon. 
 
 At luncheon, too, the Laird quite made up his feud with An- 
 gus Sutherland, for he had a great many other good ones to tell 
 about whiskey and whiskey -drinking ; and he liked a sympa- 
 thetic audience. But this general merriment was suddenly dash- 
 ed by an ominous suggestion coming from our young doctor. 
 Why, Ik; asked, should we go on fighting against these norther- 
 ly winds? Why not turn and run before them ?
 
 THE OLD SCHOOL AND THE NEW. 93 
 
 "Then you want to leave us, Angus," said his hostess, re- 
 proachfully. 
 
 " Oh no," he said, and with some color in his face. " I don't* 
 want to go, but I fear I must very soon now. However, I did 
 not make that suggestion on my own account ; if I were pressed 
 for time, I could get somewhere where I could catch the Clans- 
 man.'''' 
 
 Mary Avon looked down, saying nothing. 
 
 " You would not leave the ship like that ?" says his hostess. 
 " You would not run away, surely ? Rather than that we will 
 turn at once. Where are we now V 
 
 " If the breeze lasts, we will get over to Uist, to Loch-na-Mad- 
 dy, this evening, but you must not think of altering your plans 
 on my account. I made the suggestion because of what Captain 
 John was saying." 
 
 "Very well," says our Admiral of the Fleet, taking no heed 
 of properly constituted authority. " Suppose we set out on our 
 return voyage to-morrow morning, going round the other side of 
 Skye for a change. But you know, Angus, it is not fair of you 
 to run away when you say yourself there is nothing particular 
 calls you to London." 
 
 " Oh," says he, " I am not going to London just yet. I am 
 going to Banff, to see my father. There is an uncle of mine, too, 
 on a visit to the manse." 
 
 " Then you will be coming South again ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then why not come another cruise with us on your way 
 back?" 
 
 It was not like this hard-headed young doctor to appear so 
 embarrassed. 
 
 " That is what I should like very much myself," he stammered, 
 " if — if I were not in the way of your other arrangements." 
 
 " We shall make no other arrangements," says the other, defi- 
 nitely. " Now that is a promise, mind. No drawing back. 
 Mary will put it down in writing, and hold you to it." 
 
 Mary Avon had not looked up all this time. 
 
 "You should not press Dr. Sutherland too much," she says, 
 shyly ; " perhaps he has other friends he would like to see before 
 leaving Scotland." 
 
 The hypocrite ! Did she want to make Angus Sutherland
 
 94 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 burst a blood-vessel in protesting that of all tbe excursions be 
 bad made in bis life tbis would be to bim forever tbe most mem- 
 orable, and tbat a repetition or extension of it was a deligbt in 
 tbe future almost too great to think of? However, she seemed 
 pleased that be spoke so warmly, and she did not attempt to con- 
 tradict bim. If be bad really enjoyed all tbis rambling idleness, 
 it would no doubt tbe better fit bim for bis work in tbe great 
 capital. 
 
 We beat in to Locb-na-Maddy — tbat is, the Lake of tbe Dogs 
 — in tbe quiet evening ; and the rather commonplace low-lying 
 bills, and tbe plain bouses of tbe remote little village, looked 
 beautiful enough under the glow of the western skies. And we 
 went ashore, and walked inland for a space, through an intricate 
 net-work of lagoons inbrancbing from tbe sea ; and we saw the 
 trout leaping and making circles on tbe gold - red pools, and 
 watched tbe herons rising from their fishing and winging tlieir 
 slow flight across tbe silent lakes. 
 
 And it was a beautiful night, too, and we bad a little singing 
 on deck. Perhaps there was an under-current of regret in the 
 knowledge tbat now — for this voyage at least — we bad touched 
 our farthest point. To-morrow we were to set out again for tbe 
 South. 
 
 CHAPTER XHI. 
 
 FERDINAND AND MIRANDA. 
 
 The wind was laughing at Angus Sutherland. All the time 
 we had been sailing north, it bad blown from the north ; now 
 tbat we turned our faces eastward, it wheeled round to the east, 
 as if it would imprison bim forever in this floating home. 
 
 ^^You ivould fain get away'''' — tbis was tbe mocking sound 
 that one of us seemed to hear in those light airs of the morning 
 tbat blew along the white canvas — " /Ae ivorld calls ; ambition, 
 fame, the eagerness of rivalry, the spell that science throws over 
 her disciples — all these are powerful, and they draw you, and 
 you would fain get away. But the hand of the tvind is uplifted 
 against you; you may fret as you will, but you arc not round 
 Ru Hunish yet .'" 
 
 And perhaps tbe imaginative small creature who heard these
 
 FERDINAND AND MIRANDA. 95 
 
 strange things in the light breeze against which we were fighting 
 our way across the Minch may have been forming her own plans. 
 Angus Sutherland, she used often to say, wanted humanizing. 
 He was too proud and scornful in the pride of his knowledge ; 
 the gentle hand of a woman was needed to lead him into more 
 tractable ways. And then this Mary Avon, with her dexterous, 
 nimble woman's wit, and her indomitable courage, and her life 
 and spirit and abounding cheerfulness ; would she not be a splen- 
 did companion for him during his long and hard struggle? This 
 born match-maker had long ago thrown away any notion about 
 the Laird transferring our singing- bird to Denny -mains. She 
 had almost forgotten about the project of bringing Howard 
 Smith, the Laird's nephew, and half compelling hira to marry 
 Mary Avon : that was preposterous on the face of it. But she 
 had grown accustomed, during those long days of tranquil idle- 
 ness, to see our young doctor and Mary Avon together, cut off 
 from all the distractions of the world, a new Paul and Virginia. 
 Why — she may have asked herself — should not these two soli- 
 tary waifs, thus thrown by chance together on the wide ocean of 
 existence, why should they not cling to each other and strengthen 
 each other in the coming days of trial and storm ? The strange, 
 pathetic, phantasmal farce of life is brief; they cannot seize it, 
 and hold it, and shape it to their own ends ; they know not 
 whence it comes or whither it goes ; but while the brief, strange 
 thing lasts, they can grasp each other's hand, and make sure — 
 amidst all the unknown things around them, the mountains, and 
 the wide seas, and the stars — of some common, humble, human 
 sympathy. It is so natural to grasp the hand of another in the 
 presence of something vast and unknown. 
 
 The rest of us, at all events, have no time for such vague 
 dreams and reveries. There is no idleness on board the White 
 Dove out here on the shining deep. Dr. Sutherland has rigged 
 up for himself a sort of gymnasium by putting a rope across the 
 shrouds to the peak halyards ; and on this rather elastic cross- 
 bar he is taking his morning exercise by going through a series 
 of performances, no doubt picked up in Germany. Miss Avon is 
 busy with a sketch of the long headland running out to Vater- 
 nish Point ; though, indeed, this smooth Atlantic roll makes it 
 difficult for her to keep her feet, and introduces a certain amount 
 of hap-hazard into her handiwork. The Laird has brought on 
 
 5*
 
 96 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 deck a formidable portfolio of papers, no doubt relating to tlie 
 public affairs of Strathgovaii, and has put on his gold spectacles, 
 and has got his pencil in hand. Master Fred is re-arranging the 
 cabins ; the mistress of the yacht is looking after her flowers. 
 And then is heard the voice of John of Skye — '^ Stand hi/, boysP'' 
 and '•''Bout ship .'" and the helm goes down, and the jib and fore- 
 sail flutter and tear at the blocks and sheets, and then the sails 
 gently fill, and the White Dove is away on another tack, 
 
 " Well, I give in !" says Mary Avon, at last, as a heavier lurch 
 than usual threatens to throw her and her easel together into the 
 scuppers. " It is no use !" 
 
 " I thought you never gave in, Mary," says our admiral, whose 
 head has appeared again at the top of the companion-stairs. 
 
 " I wonder who could paint like this !" says Miss Avon, indig- 
 nantly. And indeed she is trussed up like a fowl, with one arm 
 round one of the gig davits. 
 
 " Turner was lashed to the mast of a vessel in order to see a 
 storm," says Queen T . 
 
 " But not to paint," retorts the other. " Besides, I am not 
 Turner. Besides, I am tired." 
 
 By this time, of course, Angus Sutherland has come to her 
 help, and removes her easel and what not for her, and fetches 
 her a deck-chair. 
 
 " Would you like to play chess ?" says he. 
 
 " Oh yes," she answers, dutifully, " if you think the men will 
 stay on the board." 
 
 " Draughts will be safer," says he ; and therewith he plunges 
 below and fetches up the squared board and the pieces. 
 
 And so, on this beautiful summer day, with the shining seas 
 around them, and a cool breeze tempering the heat of the sun, 
 Ferdinand and Miranda set to work. And it was a pretty sight 
 to see them — her soft dark eyes so full of an anxious care to ac- 
 quit herself well; his robust, hard, fresh -colored face full of a 
 sort of good-natured forbearance. But nevertheless it was a 
 strange game. All Scotchmen are supposed to play draughts, 
 and one brought up in a manse is almost of necessity a good 
 player. But one astonished on -looker began to perceive that 
 whereas Mary Avon played but indifferently, her opponent played 
 with a blindness that was quite remarkable. She had a very 
 pretty, small, white hand: was he looking at that, that he did
 
 FERDINAND AND MIRANDA. 97 
 
 not, on one occasion, see liow he could have taken three pieces 
 and crowned his man all at one fell swoop ? And then is it con- 
 sidered incumbent on a draught-player to inform his opponent of 
 what would be a better move on the part of the latter? However 
 that may be, true it is that, by dint of much advice, opportune 
 blindness, and atrocious bad play, the doctor managed to get the 
 game ended in a draw. 
 
 " Dear me," said Mary Avon, " I never thought I should have 
 had a chance. The Scotch are such good draught-players," 
 
 "But you play remarkably well," said he — and there was no 
 blush of shame on his face. 
 
 Draughts and luncheon carry us on to the afternoon ; and still 
 the light breeze holds out; and we get nearer and nearer to the 
 most northerly points of Skye. And as the evening draws on 
 we can now make out the hilly line of Ross-shire — a pale rose- 
 color in the far east ; and nearer at hand is the Skye coast, with 
 the warm sunlight touching on the ruins of Duntulme, where 
 Donald Gorm Mor fed his imprisoned nephew on salt beef, and 
 then lowered to him an empty cup — mocking him before he 
 died ; and then in the west the mountains of Harris, a dark pur- 
 ple against the clear lemon-golden glow'. But as night draws on, 
 behold ! the wind dies away altogether, and we lie becalmed on a 
 lilac-and-silver sea, with some rocky islands over there grown into 
 a strange intense green in the clear twilight. 
 
 Down with the gig, then, John of Skye ! — and hurry in all our 
 rods, and lines, and the occult intrapping inventions of our patri- 
 arch of Denny-mains. We have no scruple about leaving the 
 yacht in mid-ocean. The clear twilight shines in the sky ; there 
 is not a ripple on the sea ; only the long Atlantic swell that we 
 can hear breaking far away on the rocks. And surely such calms 
 are infrequent in the Mincli ; and surely these lonely rocks caij 
 have been visited but seldom by passing voyagers ? 
 
 Yet the great rollers — as we near the forbidding shores — break 
 with an ominous thunder on the projecting points and reefs. 
 The doctor insists on getting closer and closer (he knows where 
 the big lithe are likely to be found), and the men, although they 
 keep a watchful eye about them, obey, And then — it is Mary 
 Avon who first calls out — and behold ! her rod is suddenly drag- 
 ged down — the point is hauled below the water — agony and 
 alarm are on her face.
 
 98 WHITE WINGS : a yachting romance. 
 
 " Here ; take it— take it !" slie calls out. " The rod will be 
 broken !" 
 
 " Not a bit," the doctor calls out. " Give him the butt hard. 
 Never mind the rod. Haul away !" 
 
 And indeed by this time everybody was alternately calling and 
 hauling ; and John of Skye, attending to the rods of the two 
 ladies, had scarcely time to disengage the big fish and smooth the 
 flies again ; and the Laird was declaring that these lithe fight as 
 hard as a twenty-pound salmon. "What did we care about those 
 needles and points of black rock that every two or three seconds 
 showed their teeth through the breaking white surf ? 
 
 " Keep her close in, boys !" Angus Sutherland cried. " We 
 shall have a fine pickling to-morrow." 
 
 Then one fish, stronger or bigger than his fellows, pulls the rod 
 clean out of Mary Avon's hands. 
 
 " Well, I have done it this time !" she says. 
 
 " Not a bit," her companion cries. " Up all lines ! Back now, 
 lads— gently 1" 
 
 And as the stern of the boat is shoved over the great glassy 
 billows, behold ! a thin dark line occasionally visible — the end of 
 the lost rod ! Then there is a swoop on the part of our doctor ; 
 he has both his hands on the butt; there elapses a minute or 
 two of fighting between man and fish ; and then we can see be- 
 low the boat the wan gleam of the captured animal as it comes 
 to the surface in slow circles. Hurrah ! a seven-pounder ! John 
 of Skye chuckles to himself as he grasps the big lithe, 
 
 " Oh ay !" he says ; " the young leddy knows ferry well when 
 to throw away the rod. It iss a gran' good thing to throw away 
 the rod when there will be a big fish. Ay, ay, it iss a good fish." 
 
 But the brutes that fought hardest of all were the d(ig-fish — 
 the snakes of the sea; and there was a sort of holy archangclic 
 joy on the face of John of Skye when he seized a lump of stick 
 to fell these hideous creatures before flinging them back into the 
 water again. And yet why should they have been killed on ac- 
 fonnt of their snake-like eyes and their cruel mouth? The hu- 
 man race did not rise and extirpate Frederick Smethurst because 
 he was ill-favored. 
 
 By half-past ten we had secured a good cargo of fish, and then 
 we set out for the yacht. The clear twilight was still shining 
 above the Harris hills; but there was a dusky shadow along the
 
 FERDINAND AND MIUAKDA. 99 
 
 Outer Hebrides, where the orange ray of Scalpa Light was shin- 
 ing; and tlicrc was dusk in the south, so that the yacht had be- 
 come invisible altogether. It was a long pull back, for the White 
 Dove liad been carried far by the ebb tide. "When we found her, 
 she looked like a tall gray ghost in the gathering darkness ; and 
 no light had as yet been put up ; but all the same we had a 
 laughing welcome from Master Fred, who was glad to have the 
 fresh fish wherewith to supplement our frugal meals. 
 
 Then the next morning, when we got up and looked around, 
 we were in the same place ! And the glass would not fall, and 
 the blue skies kept blue, and we had to encounter still another 
 day of dreamy idleness. 
 
 " The weather is conspiring against you, Angus," our sovereign 
 lady said, with a smile. "And you know you cannot run away 
 from the yacht : it would be so cowardly to take the steamer." 
 
 " Well, indeed," said he, " it is the first time in my life that I 
 have found absolute idleness enjoyable, and I am not so very anx- 
 ious it should end. Somehow, though, I fear we are too well off. 
 "When we get back to the region of letters and telegrams, don't 
 you think we shall have to pay for all this selfish happiness?" 
 
 " Then why should we go back ?" she says, lightly. " Why 
 not make a compact to forsake the world altogether, and live all 
 our life on board the White Dove?'''' 
 
 Somehow his eyes wandered to Mary Avon, and he said, rather 
 absently, 
 
 " I, for one, should like it well enough, if it were only possible." 
 
 " No, no," says the Laird, brusquely, " that will no do at all. 
 It was never intended that people should go and live for them- 
 selves like that. Ye have your duties to the nation and to the 
 laws that protect ye. When I left Denny-mains I told my broth- 
 er Commissioners that what I could do when I was away to fur- 
 ther the business of the Burgh I would do ; and I have entered 
 most minutely into several matters of great importance. And 
 that is why I am anxious to get to Portree. I expect most im- 
 portant letters there. 
 
 Portree ! Our whereabouts on the chart last night was mark- 
 ed between 45 and 46 fathoms W^.S.W. from some nameless 
 rocks ; and here, as far as we can make out, we are still between 
 these mystical numbers. What can we do but chat, and read, 
 and play draughts, and twirl round a rope, and ascend to the
 
 100 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 cross-trees to look out for a breeze, and watcli and listen to tlic 
 animal life around us ? 
 
 " I do think," says Mary Avon to lier hostess, " the calling of 
 those divers is the softest and most musical sound I ever heard ; 
 perhaps because it is associated with so many beautiful places. 
 Just fancy, now, if you were suddenly to hear a diver symphony 
 beginning in an opera — if all the falsetto recitative and the blare 
 of the trumpets were to stop — and if you were to hear the vio- 
 lins and flutes beginning quite low and soft a diver symphony, 
 would you not think of the Hebrides, and the White Dove, and 
 the long summer days ? In the winter, you know, in London, I 
 fancy we should go once or twice to see that opera !" 
 
 " I have never been to an opera," remarks the Laird, quite im- 
 pervious to Mary Avon's tender enthusiasm. " I am told it is a 
 fantastic exhibcetion." 
 
 The chief incident of that day was the appearance of a new 
 monster of the deep, which approached quite close to the hull of 
 the White Dove. Leaning over the rail we could see him clearly 
 in the clear water — a beautiful golden submarme spider, with a 
 conical body like that of a land spider, and six or eight legs, by 
 the incurving of which he slowly propelled himself through the 
 water. As we were perfectly convinced that no one had ever 
 been in such dead calms in the Minch before, and had lain for 
 twenty-four hours in the neighborhood of 45 and 4G, we took 
 it for granted that this was a new animal. We named it the 
 Arachne Mary - Avonensis, hni did not seek to capture it. It 
 went on its golden way. 
 
 But we were not to linger forever in these Northern seas, sur- 
 rounded by perpetual summer calms — however beautiful tlic pros- 
 pect might be to a young man fallen away, for the moment, from 
 his high ambitions. Whatever summons from the far world 
 might be awaiting us at Portree was soon to be served upon us. 
 In the afternoon a slight breeze sprung up that gently carried us 
 away past Ru Ilunish, and round by Eilean Trodda, and down 
 by Altavaig. The gray -green basaltic cliffs of the Skye coast 
 were now in shadow ; but the strong sunlight beat on the grassy 
 ledges above ; and there was a distant roar of water along the 
 rocks. Tliis other throbbing sound, too : surely that must be 
 some steamer far away on the other side of Rona ? 
 
 The sunset deepened. Darker and darker grew the shadows
 
 EVIL TIDINGS. 101 
 
 ill the great mountains above us. We lieard tlie sea along the 
 solitary shores. 
 
 The stars came out in the twilight : they seemed clearest just 
 over the black mountains. In the silence there was the sound of 
 a water-fall somewhere — in among those dark cliffs. Then our 
 side-lights were put up ; and we sat on deck ; and Mary Avon, 
 nestling close to her friend, was persuaded to sing for her 
 
 " Yestreen the Queen had four Maries " 
 
 — just as if she had never heard the song before. The hours 
 went by ; Angus Sutherland was talking in a slow, earnest, des- 
 ultory fashion ; and surely he must have been conscious that one 
 heart there at least was eagerly and silently listening to him. 
 The dawn was near at hand when finally we consented to go 
 below. 
 
 What time of the morning was it that we heard John of Skye 
 call out " Six or seven fathoms Ul dof We knew at least that 
 ■we had got into harbor, and that the first golden glow of the 
 daybreak was streaming through the skylights of the saloon. 
 We had returned from the wilds to the claims and the cares of 
 civilization ; if there was any message to us, for good or for qy\\ 
 from the distant world we had left for so long, it was now wait- 
 ing for us on shore. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 EVIL TIDINGS. 
 
 We had indeed returned to the world : the first thing we saw 
 on entering the saloon in the morning was a number of letters 
 — actual letters that had come through a post-office — lying on 
 the breakfast table. We stared at these strange things. Our 
 
 good Queen T was the first to approach them. She took 
 
 them up as if she expected they would bite her. 
 
 " Oh, Mary," she says, " there is not one for you — not one !" 
 
 Angus Sutherland glanced quickly at the girl. But there was 
 not the least trace of disappointment on her face. On the con- 
 trary, she said, with a cheerful indifference, 
 
 " So much the better. They only bother people."
 
 102 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 Bat of course they had to be opened and read — even the bulk}' 
 parcel from Strathgovan. And amidst much trivial domestic and 
 other news, one of us stumbled upon one little item that certainly 
 concerned us. It was a clipping from the advertisement column 
 of a newspaper. It was enclosed, without word or comment, by 
 a friend in London who knew that we were slightly acquainted, 
 perforce, with Mr. Frederick Smethurst. And it appeared that 
 that gentleman, having got into difficulties with his creditors, 
 had taken himself off in a surreptitious and evil manner, inso- 
 much that this newspaper clipping was nothing more nor less than 
 a Hue and Cry after the fraudulent bankrupt. That letter and 
 its startling enclosure were quickly whipped into the pocket of 
 the lady to whom they had been sent. 
 
 By great good luck Mary Avon was the first to go on deck. 
 She was anxious to see this new harbor into which we had got. 
 And then, with considerable dismay on her face, our sovereign 
 mistress showed us this ugly thing. She was much excited. It 
 was so shameful of him to bring this disgrace on Mary Avon ! 
 What would the poor girl say? And this gentle lady would not 
 for worlds have her told while she was with us — until, at least, we 
 got back to some more definite channel of information. She was, 
 indeed, greatly distressed. 
 
 But we had to order her to dismiss these idle troubles. We 
 formed ourselves into a committee on the spot; and this com- 
 mittee unanimously, if somewhat prematurely and recklessly, re- 
 solved : 
 
 First, that it was not of the slightest consequence to us or any 
 human creature where Mr. Frederick Smethurst was, or what he 
 might do with himself. 
 
 Secondly, that if Mr. Frederick Smethurst were to put a string 
 and a stone round his neck and betake himself to the bottom 
 of the sea, he would earn our gratitude, and in some measure 
 atone for his previous conduct. 
 
 Thirdly, that notliing at all about the matter should be said 
 to Mary Avon : if the man had escaped, there might probably be 
 an end of the whole business. 
 
 To these resolutions, carried swiftly and unanimously, Angus 
 Sutherland added a sort of desultory rider, to the effect that 
 moral or immoral qualities do sometimes reveal themselves in 
 the face. lie was also of opinion that spare persons were more
 
 EVIL TIDIxVGS. 103 
 
 easy of detection in this manner. He gave an instance of a well- 
 known character in London — a most promising- ruffian who liad 
 run tlirougli the whole gamut of discreditable oifences. Why was 
 there no record of this brave career written in the man's face? 
 Because nature had obliterated the lines in fat. When a man 
 attains to the dimensions and appearance of a scrofulous toad 
 swollen to the size of an ox, moral and mental traces get rubbed 
 out. Therefore, contended our F.R.S., all persons who set out 
 on a career of villany, and don't want to be found out, should 
 eat fat-producing foods. Potatoes and sugar be especially men- 
 tioned as being calculated to conceal crime. 
 
 However, we had to banish Frederick Smetlmrst and his evil 
 deeds from our minds ; for the yacht from end to end was in a 
 bustle of commotion about our going ashore ; and as for us, why, 
 Ave meant to run riot in all the wonders and delights of civiliza- 
 tion. Innumerable fowls, tons of potatoes and cabbage and let- 
 tuce, fresh butter, new loaves, new milk : there was no end to 
 the visions that rose before tlie excited brain of our chief com- 
 missariat officer. And when the Laird, in the act of stepping, 
 with much dignity, into the gig, expressed his firm conviction 
 that somewhere or other we should stumble upon a Glasgow 
 newspaper not more than a week old, so that he might show us 
 the reports of the meetings of the Strathgovan Commissioners, 
 we knew of no further luxury that the mind could desire. 
 
 And as we were being rowed ashore, we could not fail to be 
 struck by the extraordinary abundance of life and business and 
 activity in the world. Portree, with its wooded crags and white 
 houses shining in the sun, seemed a large and populous city. The 
 smooth waters of the bay were crowded with craft of every de- 
 scription ; and the boats of tlie yachts were coming and going 
 ■with so many people on board of them that we were quite stared 
 out of countenance. And then, when we landed, and walked up 
 the quay, and ascended the hill into the town, we regarded the 
 signs over the shop doors with the same curiosity that regards 
 the commonest features of a foreign street. There was a pecu- 
 liarity about Portree, however, that is not met with in Continental 
 capitals. We felt tliat the ground swayed lightly under our feet. 
 Perhaps these were the last oscillations of the great volcanic dis- 
 turbance that shot the black Coolins into the sky. 
 
 Then the shops : such displays of beautiful things, in silk, and
 
 104 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 wool, and cunning wood-work ; human ingenuity declaring itself 
 in a thousand ways, and appealing to our purses. Our purses, to 
 tell the truth, were gaping. A craving for purchase possessed us. 
 But, after all, the Laird could not buy servant-girls' scarfs as a 
 present for Mary Avon, and Angus Sutherland did not need a 
 second water -proof coat; and though we reached the telegraph 
 office, there would have been a certain monotony in spending in- 
 numerable shillings on unnecessary telegrams, even though we 
 might be rejoicing in one of the highest conveniences of civiliza- 
 tion. The plain truth luust be told. Our purchases were limited 
 to some tobacco and a box or two of paper collars for the men, 
 to one or two shilling novels, and a flask of eau-de-Cologne. We 
 did not half avail ourselves of all the luxuries spread out so tempt- 
 ingly before us, 
 
 " Do you think the men will have the w'ater on board yet ?" 
 Mary Avon says, as we walk back. "I do not at all like being 
 on land. The sun scorches so, and the air is stifling.'" 
 
 " In my opeenion," says the Laird, " the authorities of Portree 
 are deserving of great credit for having fixed up the apparatus to 
 let boats get water on board at the quay. It was a public-spirited 
 project — it was that. And I do not suppose that any one grum- 
 bles at having to pay a shilling for the privilege. It is a legeeti- 
 mate tax. I am sure it would have been a long time or we could 
 have got such a thing at Strathgovan, if there was need for it 
 there. Ye would scarcely believe it, ma'am, what a spirit of op- 
 position there is among some o'. -the Commissioners to any im- 
 provement : \'e would not believe it." 
 
 " Indeed," she says, in innocent wonder ; she quite sympathizes 
 with this public-spirited reformer. 
 
 "Ay, it's true. Mind ye, I am a Conservative myself; I will 
 have nothing to do with Radicals and their Republics ; no, no, 
 but a wise Conservative knows how to march with the age. Take 
 my own poseetion : for example, as soon as I saw that the steam 
 fire-engine was a necessity, I withdrew my opposition at once. I 
 am very thankful to you, ma'am, for having given me an oppor- 
 tunity of carefully considering the question. I will never forget 
 our trip round Mull. r)ear nie ! it is warm the day," added the 
 Laird, as he raised his broad felt-hat, and wi])ed his face with his 
 voluminous silk handkerchief. 
 
 Here come two pedestrians, good-looking young lads of an ob-
 
 EVIL TIDINGS. 105 
 
 viously English type, and faultlessly equipped from head to heel. 
 They look neither to the left nor right; on they go manfully 
 through the dust, the sun scorching their faces ; there must be a 
 trifle of heat under these knapsacks. Well, we wish them fine 
 weather and whole heels. It is not the way some of us would 
 like to pass a holiday. For what is this that Miss Avon is sing- 
 ing lightly to herself as she walks carelessly on, occasionally paus- 
 ing to look in at a shop ? 
 
 " ' And often have we seamen heard how men are killed or midone, 
 By overturns of carriages, and thieves, and fires in London.' " 
 
 Here she turns aside to caress a small terrier; but the animal, 
 mistaking her intention, barks furiously, and retreats, growhng 
 and ferocious, into the shop. Miss Avon is not disturbed. She 
 walks on, and completes her nautical ballad, all for her own Ben- 
 efit : 
 
 " ' We've heard what risk all landsmen run, from noblemen to tailors. 
 So, Billy, let's thank Providence that you and I are sailors !' " 
 
 " What on earth is that, Mary ?" her friend behind asks. 
 
 The girl stops, with a surprised look, as if she had scarcely 
 been listening to herself ; then she says, lightly, 
 
 "Oh, don't you know the sailor's song? — I forget what they 
 
 call it. 
 
 " ' A strong sou'wester's blowing, Billy, can't you hear it roar now ? 
 Lord help 'em, bow I pities all unhappy folks on shore now !' " 
 
 " You have become a thorough sailor. Miss Avon," says Angus 
 Sutherland, who has overheard the last quotation. 
 
 " I — I like it better — I am more interested," she says, timidly, 
 " since you were so kind as to show me the w^orking of the ship." 
 
 " Indeed," says he, " I wish you would take command of her, 
 and order her present captain below. Don't you see how tired 
 his eyes are becoming ? He won't take his turn of sleep like the 
 others ; he has been scarcely off the deck night or day since we 
 left Canna ; and I find it is no use remonstrating with him. He 
 is too anxious ; and he fancies I am in a hurry to get back ; and 
 these continual calms prevent his getting ^n. Now the whole 
 difficulty would be solved if you let me go back by the steamer; 
 then you could lie at Portree here for a night or two, and let him 
 have some proper rest."
 
 106 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 " I do believe, Angus," says liis hostess, laughing in her gentle 
 way, " that you threaten to leave us just to see how anxious we 
 are to keep you." 
 
 " My position as ship's doctor," he retorts, " is compromised. 
 If Captain John falls ill on my hands, whom am I to blame but 
 myself ?" 
 
 " I am quite sure I can get him to go below," says Mary Avon, 
 with decision — " quite sure of it. That is, especially," she adds, 
 rather shyly, " if you will take his place. I know he would place 
 more dependence on you than on any of the men." 
 
 This is a very pretty compliment to pay to one who is rather 
 proud of his nautical knowledge. 
 
 " Well," he says, laughing, " the responsibility must rest on 
 you. Order him below to-night, and see whether he obeys. If 
 we don't get to a proper anchorage, we will manage to sail the 
 yacht somehow among us — you being captain, Miss Avon." 
 
 " If I am captain," she says, lightly — though she turns away 
 her head somewhat — " I shall forbid your deserting the ship." 
 
 " So long as you are captain, you need not fear that," he an- 
 swers. Surely he could say no less. 
 
 But it was still John of Skye who was skipper when, on get- 
 ting under way, we nearly mot with a serious accident. Fresh- 
 water and all provisions having been got on board, we weighed 
 anchor only to find the breeze die wholly down. Then the din- 
 gey was got out to tow the yacht away from the sheltered har- 
 bor; and our young doctor, always anxious for hard work, must 
 needs jtsaip in to join in this service. But the little boat had 
 been straining at the cable for scarcely five minutes when a squall 
 of wind came over from the north-west and suddenly filled the 
 sails. " Look out there, boys !" called Captain John, for we were 
 running full down on the dingey. " Let go the rope ! Let go !" 
 he shouted : but they would not let go, as the dingey came sweep- 
 ing by. In fact, she caught the yacht just below the quarter, and 
 seemed to disappear altogether. Mary Avon uttered one brief 
 cry, and then stood pale — clasping one of the ropes — not daring 
 to look. And John of Skye uttered some exclamation in the 
 Gaelic, and jumped on to the taffrail. ]'>ut the next thing we 
 saw, just above the taffrail, was the red and shining and laugliing 
 face of Angus Sutherland, who was hoisting hims(>lf up by means 
 of the mizzen boom; and directly afterward ai)pcared the scarlet
 
 EVIL TIDINGS. 
 
 107 
 
 cap of Hector of Moidart. It was upon this latter culprit that 
 the full force of John of Skye's wrath was expended. 
 
 " Why did you not let go the rope when I wass call to you ?" 
 
 " It is all right, and if I wass put into the water, I have been 
 in the water before," was the philosophic reply. 
 
 And now it was, as we drew away from Portree, that Captain 
 Mary Avon endeavored to assume supreme command, and would 
 have the deposed skipper go below and sleep. John of Skye was 
 very obedient, but he said, 
 
 " Oh ay ; I will get plenty of sleep. But that hill there, that 
 is Ben-Inivaig ; and there is not any hill in the West Highlands 
 so bad for squalls as that hill. By-and-by I will get plenty of 
 sleep." 
 
 Ben-Inivaig let us go past its great, gloomy, forbidding shoul- 
 ders and cliffs without visiting us with anything worse than a 
 few variable puffs; and we got well down into the Eaasay Nar- 
 rows. What a picture of still summer loveliness was around us ! 
 — the rippling blue seas, the green shores, and far over these the 
 black peaks of the Coolins, now taking a purple tint in the glow 
 of the afternoon. The shallow Sound of Scalpa we did not vent- 
 ure to attack, especially as it was now low-water ; we went out- 
 side Scalpa, by the rocks of Skier Dearg. And still John of Skye 
 evaded, with a gentle Highland courtesy, the orders of the captain. 
 The silver bell of Master Fred summoned us below for dinner, 
 and still John of Skye was gently obdurate. 
 
 " Now, John," says Mary Avon, seriously, to him, " you want 
 to make me angry." . -* 
 
 " Oh no, mem ; I not think that," says he, deprecatingly. 
 
 " Then why won't you go and have some sleep ? Do you want 
 to be ill ?" 
 
 "Oh, there iss plenty of sleep," says he. " Maybe we will get 
 to Kyle Akin to-night ; and there will be plcntv of sleep for 
 us." 
 
 " But I am asking you as a favor to go and get some sleep 
 now. Surely the men can take charge of the yacht." 
 
 " Oh yes, oh yes," says John of Skye ; " they can do that ferry 
 well." 
 
 And then he paused, for he was great friends with this young 
 lady, and did not like to disoblige her. 
 
 "You will be having your dinner now. After the dinner, if
 
 108 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 Mr. Sutherland himself will be on deck, I will go below and turn 
 in for a time." 
 
 "Of course Dr. Sutherland will be on deck," says the new 
 captain, promptly ; and she was so sure of one member of her 
 crew that she added, " and he will not leave the tiller for a mo- 
 ment until you come to relieve him." 
 
 Perhaps it was this promise, perhaps it was the wonderful 
 beauty of the evening, that made us hurry over dinner. Then 
 we went on deck again ; and our young doctor, having got all 
 his bearings and directions clear in his head, took the tiller, and 
 John of Skye at length succumbed to the authority of Com- 
 mander Avon, and disappeared into the forecastle. 
 
 The splendor of color around us on that still evening ! — away 
 in the west the sea of a pale yellow-green, with each ripple a flash 
 of rose flame, and over there in the south the great mountains of 
 Skye — the Coolins, and Blaven, and Ben-na-Cailleach — become of 
 a plum purple in the clear and cloudless sky. Angus Sutherland 
 was at the tiller, contemplatively smoking an almost black meer- 
 schaum ; the Laird was discoursing to us about the extraordinary 
 pith and conciseness of the Scotch phrases in the Northumbrian 
 psalter; while ever and anon a certain young lady, linked arm-in- 
 arm with her friend, would break the silence with some aimless 
 fragment of ballad or old-world air. 
 
 And still we glided onward in the beautiful evening ; and now 
 ahead of us, in the dusk of the evening, the red star of Kyle 
 Akin Light-house steadily gleamed.'* We might get to anchor, 
 after all, without awaking John of Skye. 
 
 " In weather like this," remarked our sovereign lady, " in the 
 gathering darkness, John might keep asleep for fifty years." 
 
 " Like Rip Van Winkle," said the Laird, proud of his erudi- 
 tion. " That is a wonderful story that Washington Irving wrote 
 — a verra fine story." 
 
 " Washington Irving ! — the story is as old as the Coolins," 
 said Dr. Sutherland. 
 
 The Laird stared as if he had been Rip Van Winkle himself: 
 was he forever to be checkmated by the encyclopedic knowledge 
 
 * Oh yes, Mr. Yachtsman, you are perfectly correct. Sailing according to 
 strict rules, we ought to have kept Kyle Akin light white: no doubt. But 
 then, you see, some of us had been round llii.s coast once or twice before — 
 perhaps even three or four times. We were not in imminent danger.
 
 TEMPTATION. 109 
 
 of Young England — or Young Scotland rather — and that knowl- 
 edge only the gathcruigs and sweepings of musty books that any- 
 body with a parrot-like habit might acquire? 
 
 " Why, surely you know that the legend belongs to that com- 
 mon stock of legends that go through all literatures ?" says our 
 young doctor. "I have no doubt the Hindoos have their Epi- 
 nienides ; and that Peter Klaus turns up somewhere or other in 
 the Gaelic stories. However, that is of little importance ; it is 
 of importance that Captain John should get some sleep. Hector, 
 come here !" 
 
 There was a brief consultation about the length of anchor 
 chain wanted for the little harbor opposite Kyle Akin : Hector's 
 instructions were on no account to disturb John of Skye. But 
 no sooner had they set about getting the chain on deck than an- 
 other figure appeared, black among the rigging; and there was 
 a well-known voice heard forward. Then Captain John came aft, 
 and, despite all remonstrances, would relieve his substitute. Rip 
 Van Winkle's sleep had lasted about an hour and a half. 
 
 And now we steal by the black shores ; and that solitary red 
 star comes nearer and nearer in the dusk ; and at length we can 
 make out two or three other paler lights close down by the water. 
 Behold ! the yellow ports of a steam-yacht at anchor ; we know, 
 as our own anchor goes rattling out in the dark, that we shall 
 have at least one neighbor and companion through the still watch- 
 es of the niffht. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 TEMPTATION. 
 
 But the night, according to John of Skye's chronology, lasts 
 only until the tide tunis, or until a breeze springs up. Long be- 
 fore the wan glare in the east has arisen to touch the highest 
 peaks of the Coolins, we hear the tread of the men on deck get- 
 ting the yacht under way. And then there is a shuffling noise 
 in Angus Sutherland's cabin ; and we guess that he is stealthily 
 dressing in the dark. Is he anxious to behold the wonders of 
 daybreak in the beautiful Loch Alsh, or is he bound to take his 
 share in the sailing of the ship? Less perturbed spirits sink
 
 110 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 back again into sleep, and contentedly let the White Dove go on 
 lier own way through the expanding blue-gray light of the dawn. 
 
 Hours afterward there is a strident shouting down the com- 
 panion-way ; everybody is summoned on deck to watch the yacht 
 shoot the Narrows of Kyle Rhea. And the Laird is the first to 
 express his surprise ; are these the dreaded Narrows that have 
 caused Captain John to start before daybreak so as to shoot them 
 with the tide? All around is a dream of summer beauty and 
 quiet. A more perfect picture of peace and loveliness could not 
 be imagined than the green crags of the main-land, and the vast 
 hills of Skye, and this placid channel between, shining in the fair 
 light of the morning. The only thing we notice is that on the 
 glassy green of the water — this reflected, deep, almost opaque 
 green is not unlike the color of Niagara below the Falls — there 
 are smooth circular lines here and there ; and now and again the 
 bows of the White Dove slowly swerve awaj'^ from her course as 
 if in obedience to some unseen and mysterious pressure. There 
 is not a breath of wind ; and it needs all the pulling of the two 
 men out there in the dingey, and all the watchful steering of Cap- 
 tain John, to keep her head straight. Then a light breeze comes 
 along the great gully; the red -capped men are summoned on 
 board ; the dingey is left astern ; the danger of being caught in 
 an eddy and swirled ashore is over and gone. 
 
 Suddenly the yacht stops as if it had run against a wall. Then, 
 just as she recovers, there is an extraordinary hissing and roaring 
 in the dead silence around us, and close by the yacht we find a 
 great circle of boiling and foaming water, forced up from below 
 and overlapping itself in ever-increasing folds. And then, on the 
 perfectly glassy sea, another and another of those boiling and 
 hissing circles appears, until there is a low rnmbling in the sum- 
 mer air like the breaking of distant waves. And the yacht — the 
 wind having again died down — is curiously compelled one way 
 and another, insomuch that John of Skye quickly orders the men 
 out in the dingey again ; and asxain the lonii' cable is tugging at 
 her bows. 
 
 "It seems to me," says Dr. Siijherland to our skipper, "that 
 we are in the middle of al)out a thousand whirlpools." 
 
 "Oh, it iss ferry quate this morning," says Captain John, with 
 a slirewd smile. "It is not often so quate as this. Ay, it iss 
 sometimes ferry l)ad lierc — quite so bad as Corricvreckan ; and
 
 TEMPTATION. Ill 
 
 when the flood-tide is rinnin, it will be rinnin like — shist like a 
 race-horse." 
 
 However, by dint of much hard pulling and judicious steering, 
 we manage to keep the White Dove pretty well in mid-current ; 
 and only once — and that but for a second or two — get caught in 
 one of those eddies circling in to the shore. We pass the white 
 ferry-house ; a slight breeze carries us by the green shores and 
 woods of Glenelg ; we open out the wider sea between Isle Orn- 
 say and Loch Hourn ; and then a silver tinkle tells us breakfast 
 is ready. 
 
 That long, beautiful, calm summer day : Ferdinand and Miran- 
 da playing draughts on deck, he having rigged up an umbrella to 
 shelter her from the hot sun ; the Laird busy with papers refer- 
 ring to the Strathgovan Public Park ; the hostess of these peo- 
 ple overhauling the stores, and meditating on something recondite 
 for dinner. At last the doctor fairly burst out a-laughing. 
 
 " Well," said he, " I have been in many a yacht, but never yet 
 in one where everybody on board was anxiously waiting for the 
 glass to fall." 
 
 His hostess laughed too. 
 
 " When you come south again," she said, " we may be able to 
 give you a touch of something different. I think that, even with 
 all your love of gales, a few days of the equinoctials would quite 
 satisfy you." 
 
 " The equinoctials !" he said, with a surprised look. 
 
 " Yes," said she, boldly. " ^Vhy not have a good holiday while 
 you are about it ? And a yachting trip is nothing without a fight 
 with the equinoctials. Oh, you have no idea how splendidly the 
 White Dove behaves !" 
 
 " I should like to try her," he said, with a quick delight ; but 
 directly afterward he ruefully shook his head. " No, no," said 
 he, " such a tremendous spell of idleness is not for me. I have 
 not earned the right to it yet. Twenty years hence I may be 
 able to have three months' continued yachting in the West High- 
 lands." 
 
 " If I were you," retorted this small person, with a practical air, 
 " I would take it when I could get it. What do you know about 
 twenty years hence? — you may be physician to the Emperor of 
 China. And you have worked very hard ; and you ought to take 
 as long a holiday as you can get." 
 
 6
 
 112 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 " I am sure," says Mary Avon, very timidly, " that is very wise 
 advice," 
 
 " In the mean time," says he, cheerfully, " I am not physician 
 to the Emperor of China, but to the passengers and crew of the 
 White Dove. The passengers don't do me the honor of consult- 
 ing me ; but I am going to prescribe for the crew on my own re- 
 sponsibility. All I want is that I shall have the assistance of Miss 
 Avon in making them take the dose." 
 
 Miss Avon looked up inquiringly with those soft black eyes 
 of hers. 
 
 " Nobody has any control over them but herself — they are like 
 refractory children. Now," said he, rather more seriously, " this 
 night-and-day work is telling on the men. Another week of it, 
 and you would see Insomnia written in large letters on their eyes. 
 I want you. Miss Avon, to get Captain John and the men to have 
 a complete night's rest to-night — a sound night's sleep from the 
 time we finish dinner till daybreak. We can take charge of the 
 yacht." 
 
 Miss Avon promptly rose to her feet. 
 
 " John !" she called. 
 
 The big brown-bearded skipper from Skye came aft — quickly 
 putting his pipe in his waistcoat pocket the while. 
 
 " John," she said, " I want you to do me a favor now. You 
 and the men have not been having enough sleep lately. You 
 must all go below to-night as soon as we come up from dinner ; 
 and you must have a good sleep till daybreak. The gentlemen 
 will take charge of the yacht." 
 
 It was in vain that John of Skye protested he was not tired. 
 It was in vain that he assured her that, if a good breeze sprung 
 up, we might get right back to Castle Osprey by the next morn- 
 ing. 
 
 " Why, you know very well," she said, " this calm weather 
 means to last forever." 
 
 " Oh no ! I not think that, mem," said John of Skye, smiling. 
 
 " At all events, we shall be sailing all night ; and that is what I 
 want you to do, as a favor to me." 
 
 Indeed, our ski[)pcr found it was of no use to refuse. The 
 young lady was peremptory. And so, having settled that matter, 
 she sat down to her draught-board again. 
 
 But it was the Laird she was playing with now. And this was
 
 TEMPTATION. 113 
 
 a remarkable circumstance about the game : when Angus Suther- 
 land played with Denny-mains, the latter was hopelessly and in- 
 variably bejften ; and when Denny-mains in his turn played with 
 Mary Avon, he was relentlessly and triumphantly the victor ; but 
 when Angus Sutherland played with Miss Avon, she, somehow or 
 other, generally managed to secure two out of three games. It 
 was a puzzling triangular duel : the chief feature of it was the 
 splendid joy of the Laird when he had conquered the English 
 young lady. He rubbed his hands, he chuckled, he laughed — 
 just as if he had been repeating one of his own " good ones." 
 
 However, at luncheon the Laird was much more serious ; for 
 he was showing to us how remiss the government was in not tak- 
 ing up the great solan question. He had a newspaper cutting 
 which gave in figures — in rows of figures — the probable number 
 of millions of herrings destroyed every year by the solan-geese. 
 The injury done to the herring fisheries of this county, he proved 
 to us, was enormous. If a solan is known to eat on an average 
 fifty herrings a day, just think of the millions on millions of 
 fish that must go to feed those nests on the Bass Rock ! The 
 Laird waxed quite eloquent about it. The human race were 
 dearer to him far than any gannet or family of gannets. 
 
 " What I wonder at is this," said our young doctor, with a 
 curious grim smile that we had learned to know, coming over his 
 face, " that the solan, with that extraordinary supply of phos- 
 phorus to the brain, should have gone on remaining only a bird, 
 and a very ordinary bird, too. Its brain power should have been 
 developed ; it should be able to speak by this time. In fact, there 
 ought to be solan school boards and parochial boards on the Bass 
 Rock; and commissioners appointed to inquire whether the build- 
 ing of nests might not be conducted on more scientific principles. 
 When I was a boy — I am son-y to say, I used often to catch a 
 solan by floating out a piece of wood with a dead herring on it: 
 a wise bird, with its brain fall of phosphorus, ought to have 
 known that it would break its head when it swooped down on a 
 piece of wood." 
 
 The Laird sat in dignified silence. There was something oc- 
 cult and uncanny about many of this young man's sayings — they 
 savored too much of the dangerous and unsettling tendencies of 
 these modern days. Besides, he did not see what good could 
 come of likening a lot of solan-geese to the Commissioners of
 
 114 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 the Biirgli of Strathgovan. His remarks on the herring fisheries 
 had been practical and intelligible ; they had given no occasion 
 for gibes. • 
 
 We were suddenly startled by the rattling out of the anchor 
 chain. What could it mean? — were we caught in an eddy? 
 There was a scurrying up on deck, only to find that, having drift- 
 ed so far south with the tide, and the tide beginning to turn, John 
 of Skye proposed to secure what advantage we had gained, by 
 coming to anchor. There was a sort of shamed laughter over 
 this business. Was the noble White Dove only a river barge, 
 then, that she was thus dependent on the tides for her progress ? 
 But it was no use either to laugh or to grumble ; two of us pro- 
 posed to row the Laird away to certain distant islands that lie off 
 the shore north of the mouth of Loch Hourn ; and for amuse- 
 ment's sake we took some towels with us. 
 
 Look now how this long and shapely gig cuts the blue water. 
 The Laird is very dignified in the stern, with the tiller-ropes in 
 his hand ; he keeps a straight coarse enough, though he is most- 
 ly looking over the side. And indeed this is a perfect wonder- 
 hall over which we are making our way — the water so clear that 
 we notice the fish darting here and there among the great brown 
 blades of the tangle and the long green sea-grass. Then there 
 are stretches of yellow sand, with shells and star-fish shining far 
 below. The sun burns on our hands; there is a dead stillness 
 of heat ; the measured splash of the oars startles the sea-birds in 
 there among the rocks. 
 
 " Send the biorlinn on careering, 
 Cheerily and all together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 A long, strong pull togethei" — 
 Ho, ro, clansmen !" 
 
 Look out for the shallows, most dignified cockswains: what if 
 we were to imbed her bows in the silver sand ? — 
 
 " Another cheer ! Our isle appears. 
 Our biorlinn bears her on the faster — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 A long, strong pull together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen !" 
 
 "Hold hard!" calls Denny -mains; and behold! we are in 
 among a net-work of channels and small islands lying out here
 
 TEMPTATION. 115 
 
 in the calm sea; and the birds are wiklly calling and screaming 
 and swooping about our heads, indignant at the approach of 
 strangers. What is our first duty, then, in coming to these un- 
 known islands and straits! — why, surely, to name them in the 
 interests of civilization. And we do so accordingly. Here — let 
 it be forever known — is John Smith Bay. There, Thorley's Food 
 for Cattle Island. Beyond that, on the south, Brown and Pol- 
 son's Straits.* It is quite true that these islands and bays may 
 have been previously visited ; but it was no doubt a long time 
 ago; and the people did not stop to bestow names. The lati- 
 tude and longitude may be dealt with afterward ; meanwhile the 
 discoverers unanimously resolve that the most beautiful of all the 
 islands shall hereafter, through all time, be known as the Island 
 of Mary Avon. 
 
 It was on this island that the Laird achieved his memorable 
 capture of a young sea-bird — a huge creature of unknown species 
 that fluttered and scrambled over bush and over scaur, while Den- 
 ny-mains, quite forgetting his dignity and the heat of the sun, 
 clambered after it over the rocks. And when he got it in his 
 hands, it lay as one dead. He was sorry. He regarded the new- 
 ly fledged thing with compassion, and laid it tenderly down on 
 the grass, and came away down again to the shore. But he had 
 scarcely turned his back, when the demon bird got on its legs, 
 and, with a succession of shrill and sarcastic " yawps," was off 
 and away over the higher ledges. No fasting girl had ever 
 shammed so completely as this scarcely fledged bird. 
 
 We bathed in Brown and Poison's Straits, to the great distress 
 of certain sea-pyots that kept screaming over our heads, resenting 
 the intrusion of the discoverers. But in the midst of it we were 
 suddenly called to observe a strange darkness on the sea, far away 
 in the north, between Glenelg and Skye. Behold ! the long-look- 
 ed-for wind — a hurricane swooping down from the northern hills ! 
 Our toilet on the hot rocks was of brief duration ; we jumped 
 into the gig ; away we went through the glassy water. It was a 
 race between us and the northerly breeze which should reach the 
 yacht first; and we could see that John of Skye had remarked 
 
 * Advertisers will please communicate with the publishers. Further ex- 
 peditions will be fitted out — for Africa and elsewhere. The most obscure 
 persons generously treated with. We hope, by a strict attention to business, 
 to give satisfaction to our employers.
 
 IIG WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 the coming wind, for the men were hoisting the fore - staysail. 
 The dark bkie on the water spreads ; the retiections of the hills 
 and the clouds gradually disappear; as we clamber on board, the 
 first puffs of the breeze are touching the great sails. The anchor 
 has just been got up ; the gig is hoisted to the davits ; slack out 
 the main-sheet, you shifty Hector, and let the great boom go out ! 
 Nor is it any mere squall that has come down from the hills, but 
 a fine, steady northerly breeze; and away we go, with the white 
 foam in our wake. Farewell to the great mountains over the 
 gloomy Loch Hourn ; and to the light-house over there at Isle 
 Ornsay ; and to the giant shoulders of Ard-na-Glishnich. Are 
 not these the dark green woods of Armadale that we see in the 
 west? And southward, and still southward we go, with the run- 
 ning seas and the fresh brisk breeze from the north. Who knows 
 where we may not be to-night before Angus Sutherland's \fatch 
 begins ? 
 
 There is but one thoughtful face on board. It is that of Mary 
 Avon. For the moment, at least, she seems scarcely to rejoice 
 that we have at last got this grateful wind to bear us away to 
 the South and to Castle Osprey. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THROUGH THE DARK. 
 " Ahead she goes ! the land she knows !" 
 
 What though we sec a sudden squall come tearing over from 
 the shores of Skye, whitening the waves as it approaches us? 
 The White Dove is not afraid of any squall. And there are the 
 green woods of Armadale, dusky under the western glow ; and 
 here the sombre heights of Dun Bane ; and soon we will open 
 out the great gap of Loch Nevis. We are running with the run- 
 ning waves ; a general excitement prevails ; even the Laird has 
 dismissed for the moment certain dark suspicions about Fredei'- 
 ick Smethurst that have for the last day or two been haunting 
 Iiis mind. 
 
 And here is a fine sight! — the great steamer coming down 
 from the north — and the sunset is burnine; on her red funnels —
 
 THROCGH THE DARK. 117 
 
 and behold ! slie has a line of flags from her stem to her top- 
 masts and down to her stern again. Who is on board? — some 
 great laird, or some gay wedding party ? 
 
 " Now is yonr chance, Angus," says Queen T , almost ma- 
 liciously, as the steamer slowly gains on us. " If you want to go 
 on at oncp, I know the captain would stop for a minute and pick 
 you up." 
 
 He looked at her for a second in a quick, hurt way ; then he 
 saw that she was only laughing at him. 
 
 " Oh no, thank you," he said, blushing like a school-boy ; " un- 
 less you want to get rid of me. I have been looking forward to 
 sailing the yacht to-night." 
 
 "And — and you said," remarked Miss Avon, rather timidly, 
 " that we should challenge them again after dinner this evening." 
 
 This was a pretty combination : " we " referred to Angus 
 Sutherland and herself. Her elders were disrespectfully described 
 as " them." So the younger people had not forgotten how they 
 were beaten by " them " on the previous evening. 
 
 Is there a sound of pipes amidst the throbbing of the paddles? 
 What a crowd of people swarm to the side of the great vessel ! 
 And there is the captain on the paddle-box — out all handker- 
 chiefs to return the innumerable salutations — and good-bye, you 
 brave Glencoe ! you have no need to rob us of any one of our 
 passengers. 
 
 "Where does the breeze come from on this still evening ? — there 
 is not a cloud in the sky, and there is a drowsy haze of heat all 
 along the land. But nevertheless it continues ; and, as the gal- 
 lant White Dove cleaves her way through the tumbling sea, we 
 gradually draw on to the Point of Sleat, and open out the great 
 plain of the Atlantic, now a golden green, where the tops of the 
 waves catch the light of the sunset skies. And there, too, are our 
 old friends Haleval and Ilaskeval ; but they are so far away, and 
 set amidst such a bewildering light, that the whole island seems 
 to be of a pale transparent rose - purple. And a still stranger 
 thing now attracts the eyes of all on board. The setting sun, as 
 it nears the horizon line of the sea, appears to be assuming a dis- 
 tinctly oblong shape. It is slowly sinking into a purple haze, and 
 becomes more and more oblong as it nears the sea. There is a 
 call for all the glasses hung up in the companion-way ; and now 
 what is it that we find out there bv the aid of the various binoc-
 
 118 WHITE wings: a yaciitixg komaxce. 
 
 ulars ? "NYliy, apparently a wall of pnrplc ; and there is an ol)- 
 long hole in it, with a fire of gold light far away on the other 
 side. This apparent golden tunnel through the haze grows red- 
 der and more red ; it becomes more and more elongated ; then it 
 burns a deeper crimson, until it is almost a line. The next mo- 
 ment there is a sort of shock to the eyes; for there is, a sudden 
 darkness all along the horizon line : the purple-black Atlantic is 
 barred against that lurid haze low down in the west. 
 
 It was a merry enough dinner party : perhaps it was the con- 
 sciousness that the White Dove was still bowling along that 
 brightened up our spirits, and made the Laird of Denny-mains 
 more particularly loquacious. The number of good ones that he 
 told us was quite remarkable — until his laughter might have been 
 heard through the whole ship. And to whom now did he devote 
 the narration of those merry anecdotes — to whom but Miss Mary 
 Avon, who was his ready chorus on all occasions, and who entered 
 with a greater zest than any one into the humors of them ? Had 
 she been studying the Lowland dialect, then, that she understood 
 and laughed so lightly and joyously at stories about a thousand 
 years of age ? 
 
 " Oh ay," the Laird was saying, patronizingly, to her, " I see ye 
 can enter into the peculiar humor of our Scotch stories ; it is not 
 every English person that can do that. And ye understand the 
 language fine. . . . Well," he added, with an air of modest apolo- 
 gy, " perhaps I do not give tlie pronnnciation as broad as I might. 
 I have got out of the way of talking the provincial Scotcli since 
 I was a boy — indeed, ah'm generally taken for an Englishman 
 maself — but I do my best to give ye the speerit of it." 
 
 " Oh, I am sure your imitation of the provincial Scotch is most 
 excellent — most excellent — and it adds so much to the humor of 
 the stories," says this disgraceful young hypocrite. 
 
 " Oh ay, oh ay," says the Laird, greatly delighted. " I will ad- 
 mit that some o' the stories would not have so much humor hnt 
 for the language. But when ye have both 1 J)id ye ever hear 
 of the laddie who was called in to his porridge by his mother ?" 
 
 We perceived by the twinkle in the Laird's eyes that a real 
 good one was coming. He looked round to see that we were lis- 
 tening, but it was Mary Av<jn whom he addressed. 
 
 "A grumbling bit laddie — a philosopher, too," said he. "His 
 mother thought he would come in the (piirkcr if he knew there
 
 THROUGH THE DAKK. 119 
 
 was a fly in tlic milk. ''Johnny^ she cried out — ''Johnny^ come in 
 to your 2i(i'fi'>tch ; there s a Jlee in the milk.^ ^It HI no droon^ 
 says he. ^Whatf slie says; '^ grumhlin'' again? Do ye think 
 there'' s no enough milk?'' '^ Plenty for the parritch,^ says he — kee / 
 kee ! kee ! — sharp, eh, wasn't he ? ''Plenty for the parritch,'' says 
 he — ha ! ha ! ho ! ho ! ho !" — and the Laird slapped his thigh, 
 and cliuckled to himself. " Oh ay, Miss Mary," he added, approv- 
 ingly, " I see you are beginning to understand the Scotch humor 
 fine." 
 
 And if our good friend the Laird had been but twenty years 
 younger — with his battery of irresistible jokes, and his great and 
 obvious affection for this stray guest of ours, to say nothing of 
 his dignity and importance as a Commissioner of Strathgovan ? 
 AYhat chance would a poor Scotch student have had, with his test- 
 tubes and his scientific magazines, his restless, audacious specula- 
 tions and eager ambitions ? On the one side, wealth, ease, a pleas- 
 ant facetiousness, and a comfortable acceptance of the obvious 
 facts of the universe — including water-rates and steam fire-en- 
 gines ; on the other, poverty, unrest, the physical struggle for ex- 
 istence, the mental struggle with the mysteries of life : who could 
 doubt what the choice would be ? However, there was no thought 
 of this rivalry now. The Laird had abdicated in favor of his 
 nephew Howard, about whom he had been speaking a good deal 
 to Mary Avon of late. And Angus — though he was always very 
 kind and timidly attentive to Miss Avon— =-seemed nevertheless at 
 times almost a little afraid of her ; or perhaps it was only a vein 
 of shyness that cropped up from time to time through his hard 
 mental characteristics. In any case, he was at this moment nei- 
 ther the shy lover nor the eager student ; he was full of the pros- 
 pect of having sole command of the ship during a long night on 
 the Atlantic, and he hurried us up on deck after dinner without 
 a word about that feturn battle at bezique. 
 
 The night had come on apace, though there was still a raddy 
 mist about the northern skies, behind the dusky purple of the 
 Coolin hills. The stars were out overhead ; the air around us 
 was full of the soft cries of the divers ; occasionally, amidst the 
 lapping of the water, we could hear some whirring by of wings. 
 Then the red port light and the green starboard light were 
 brought up from the forecastle, and fixed in their place ; the men 
 went below; Angus Sutherland took the tiller; the Laird kept 
 
 6*
 
 120 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 walking backward and forward as a sort of lookout ; and the 
 two women were, as usual, seated on rugs together in some invisi- 
 ble corner — crooning snatches of ballads, or making impertinent 
 remarks about people much wiser and older than themselves. 
 
 " Now, Angus," says the voice of one of them, apparently 
 from somewhere about the companion, " show us that you can 
 sail the yacht properly, and we will give you complete command 
 during the equinoctials." 
 
 "You speak of the equinoctials," said he, laughing, " as if it 
 was quite settled I should be here in September." 
 
 " Why not ?" said she, promptly. " Mary is my witness you 
 promised. You wouldn't go and desert two poor lone women ?" 
 
 " But I have got that most uncomfortable thing, a conscience," 
 he answered ; " and I know it would stare at me as if I were mad, 
 if I proposed to spend such a long time in idleness. It would be 
 outraging all my theories, besides. You know, for years and years 
 back I have been limiting myself in every way — living, for exam- 
 ple, on the smallest allowance of food and drink, and that of the 
 simplest and cheapest — so that if any need arose I should have 
 no luxurious habits to abandon — " 
 
 "But what possible need can there be?" says Mary Avon, 
 warmly. 
 
 " Do you expect to spend your life in a jail ?" said the other 
 woman. 
 
 " No," said he, quite simply ; " but I will give you an instance 
 of what a man who devotes himself to his profession may have 
 to do. A friend of mine, who is one of the highest living au- 
 thorities on Materia Medica, refused all invitations for three 
 months, and during the whole of that time lived each day on 
 precisely the same food and drink, weighed out in exact quanti- 
 ties, so as to determine the effect of particular drugs on himself. 
 Well, you know, you should be ready to do that — " 
 
 " Oh, how wrong you arc !" says Mary Avon, with the same 
 impetuosity. "A man who works as hard as you do should not 
 sacrifice himself to a theory. And what is it ? It is quite foolish !'' 
 
 " Mary !" her friend says. 
 
 " It is," she says, with generous warmth. " It is like a man 
 who goes through life with a coffin on his back, so that he may 
 be ready for death. Don't you think that when death comes it 
 will be time enough to be getting the coffin ?"
 
 THROUGH THE DARK. 121 
 
 This was a poser. 
 
 " You know quite well," she says, " that when the real occasion 
 offered, like the one you describe, you could deny yourself any 
 luxuries readily enough ; why should you do so now ?" 
 
 At this there was a gentle sound of laughter. 
 
 "Luxuries — the luxuries of the White Dove T says her host- 
 ess, mindful of tinned meats. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," says our young doctor, though he is laughing 
 too. " There is far too much luxury — the luxury of idleness — 
 on board this yacht, to be wholesome for one like me." 
 
 " Perhaps you object to the effeminacy of the downy couches 
 and the feather pillows," says his hostess, who is always grum- 
 bling about the hardness of the beds. 
 
 But it appears that she has made an exceedingly bad shot. 
 The man at the wheel — one can just make out his dark figure 
 against the clear starlit heavens, though occasionally he gets be- 
 fore the yellow light of the binnacle — proceeds to assure her that, 
 of all the luxuries of civilization, he appreciates most a horse-hair 
 pillow, and that he attributes his sound sleeping on board the 
 yacht to the hardness of the beds. He would rather lay his head 
 on a brick, he says, for a night's rest than sink it in the softest 
 feathers. 
 
 " Do you wonder," he says, " that Jacob dreamed of angels 
 when he had a stone for his pillow ? I don't. If I wanted to 
 have a pleasant sleep and fine dreams, that is the sort of pillow 1 
 should have." 
 
 Some phrase of this catches the ear of our lookout forward ; 
 he instantly comes aft. 
 
 " Yes, it is a singular piece of testimony," lie says. " There is 
 no doubt of it ; I have myself seen the very place." 
 
 We were not startled ; we knew that the Laird, under the 
 guidance of a well-known Free Church minister, had made a run 
 through Palestine. 
 
 " A)'," said he, " the farther I went aw^ay from my own coun- 
 try, the more I saw nothing but decadence and meesery. The 
 poor craytures ! — living among ruins, and tombs, and decay, with- 
 out a trace of public spirit or private energy. The disregard of 
 sanitary laws was something terrible to look at — as bad as their 
 universal beggary. That is what comes of centralization, of sup- 
 pressing local government. Would ye believe that there are a
 
 122 AVHiTE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 lot of silly bodies actually working to get our Burgli of Strath- 
 govan annexed to Glasgow — swallowed up in Glasgow ?" 
 
 " Impossible !" we exclaim. 
 
 "I tell ye it is true. But no, no! we are not ripe yet for 
 those radical measures ; we are constituted under an act of Par- 
 liament. Before the House of Commons would dare to annex 
 the free and flourishing Burgh of Strathgovan to Glasgow, I'm 
 thinking the country far and near would hear something of it !" 
 
 Yes ; and we think so too. And we think it would be better 
 if the hamlets and towns of Palestine were governed by men of 
 public spirit, like the Commissioners of Strathgovan ; then they 
 would be properly looked after. Is there a single steam fire-en- 
 gine in Jericho ? 
 
 However, it is late ; and presently the women say good-night 
 and retire. And the Laird is persuaded to go below with them 
 also ; for how otherwise could he have his final glass of toddy in 
 the saloon ? There are but two of us left on deck, in the dark- 
 ness, under the stars. 
 
 It is a beautiful night, with those white and quivering points 
 overhead, and the other white and burning points gleaming on 
 the black waves that whirl by the yacht. Beyond the heaving 
 plain of waters there is nothing visible but the dusky gloom of 
 the island of Eigg, and away in the south the golden eye of Ard- 
 namurchan Light -house, for which we are steering. Then the 
 intense silence — broken only when the wind, changing a little, 
 jibes the sails and sends the great boom swinging over on to 
 the lee tackle. It is so still that we are startled by the sudden 
 noise of the blowing of a whale ; and it sounds quite close to the 
 yacht, though it is more likely that the animal is miles away. 
 
 " She is a wonderful creature — she is, indeed," says the man at 
 the wheel ; as if every one must necessarily be thinking about 
 the same person. 
 
 " Who ?" 
 
 " Your young English friend. Every minute of her life seems 
 to be an enjoyment to her; she sings just as a bird sings — for 
 her own amusement, and without thinking." 
 
 " She can think too ; she is not a fool." 
 
 " Though she docs not look very strong," continues the young 
 doctor, " she must have a thoroughly healthy constitution, or how 
 could she have such a happy disposition ? She is always content-
 
 THROUGH THE DARK. 123 
 
 ed ; she is never put out. If you had only seen her patience and 
 cheerfulness when she was attending that old woman — many a 
 time I regretted it — the case was hopeless— a hired nurse would 
 have done as w'cll." 
 
 " Hiring a nurse might not have satisfied the young lady's no- 
 tions of duty." 
 
 " Well, I've seen women in sick-rooms, but never any one like 
 her," said he ; and then he added, with a sort of emphatic wonder, 
 " I'm hanged if she did not seem to enjoy that too ! Then, you 
 never saw any one so particular about following out instructions." 
 
 It is here suggested to our steersman that he himself may be 
 a little too particular about following out instructions. For John 
 of Skye's last counsel was to keep Ardnamurchan light on our 
 port bow. That was all very well when we were off the north 
 of Eigg; but is Dr. Sutherland aware that the south point of 
 Eigg — Eilean-na- Castle — juts pretty far out? and is not that 
 black line of land coming uncommonly close on our starboard 
 bow ? With some reluctance our new skipper consents to alter 
 his course by a couple of points, and we bear away down for 
 Ardnamurchan. 
 
 And of what did he not talk during the long starlit night — 
 the person who ought to have been lookout sitting contentedly 
 aft, a mute listener? — of the strange fears that must have beset 
 the people who first adventured out to sea ; of the vast expendi- 
 ture of human life that must have been thrown away in the dis- 
 covery of the most common facts about currents and tides and 
 rocks ; and so forth, and so forth. But ever and again his talk 
 i-eturned to Mary Avon. 
 
 " What does the Laird mean by his suspicions about her un- 
 cje?" he asked on one occasion — just as w^e had been watching 
 a blue-white bolt flash down through the serene heavens and ex- 
 pire in mid-air. 
 
 " Mr. Frederick Smethurst has an ugly face." 
 
 "But what does he mean about those relations between the 
 man with the ugly face and his niece ?" 
 
 " That is idle speculation. Frederick Smethurst was her trus- 
 tee, and might have done her some mischief ; that is, if he is an 
 out-and-out scoundrel ; but that is all over. Mary is mistress of 
 her own property now." 
 
 Ilere the boom came slowly swinging over; and presently
 
 124 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 there were all the sheets of the head-sails to be looked after — 
 tedious work enough for amateurs in the darkness of the night. 
 
 Then further silence ; and the monotonous rush and murmur 
 of the unseen sea; and the dark top-mast describing circles among 
 the stars. We get up one of the glasses to make astronomical 
 observations, but the heaving of the boat somewhat interferes 
 with this quest after knowledge. Whoever wants to have a good 
 idea of forked lightning has only to take up a binocular on board 
 a pitching yacht, and try to fix it on a particular planet. 
 
 The calm, solemn night passes slowly ; the red and green lights 
 shine on the black rigging; afar in the south burns the guiding 
 star of Ardnamurchan. And we have drawn away from Eigg 
 DOW, and passed the open sound ; and there, beyond the mur- 
 muring sea, is the gloom of the island of Muick. All the people 
 below are wrapped in slumber; the cabins are dark; there is only 
 a solitary candle burning in the saloon. It is a strange thing to 
 be responsible for the lives of those sleeping folk, out here on 
 the lone Atlantic, in the stillness of the night. 
 
 Our young doctor bears his responsibility lightly. He has — 
 for a wonder — laid aside his pipe ; and he is humming a song 
 that he has heard Mary Avon singing of late — something about 
 
 "Oh, think na laiig, lassie, though I gang awa', 
 For I'll come and see ye in spite o' them a'," 
 
 and he is wishing the breeze would blow a bit harder, and won- 
 dering whether the wind will die away altogether when we get 
 under the lee of Ardnamurchan Point. 
 
 But long before we have got down to Ardnamurchan there is 
 a pale gray light beginning to tell in the oastern skies ; and the 
 stars are growing fainter; and the black line of the land is grow- 
 ing clearer above the wrestling seas. Is it a fancy that the first 
 light airs of the morning are a trifle cold? And then we sud- 
 denly see, among the dark rigging forward, one or two black fig- 
 ures ; and presently John of Skye comes aft, rubbing his eyes. 
 He has had a good sleep at last. 
 
 Go below, then, you stout -sinewed young doctor; you have 
 had your desire of sailing the White Dove through the still 
 watches of the night. And soon you will be asleep, with your 
 head on the hard pillow of that little state-room ; and though 
 the pillow is not as hard as a stone, still the night and the sea
 
 VILLANY ABROAD. 125 
 
 and the stars are quickening to the brain ; and who knows that 
 you may not perchance, after all, dream of "angels, or hear some 
 faint singing far away : 
 
 " There was Mary Beaton — and Mary Seaton — '' 
 
 Or is it only a sound of the waves ? 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 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 mizzen-mast, a blaze of 
 color 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 foot- 
 steps 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. Wliat 
 is all this wild enthusiasm about, then ? 
 
 " It is the noblest profession in the Avorld !" — we can hear so 
 much as she passes the skylight. " One profession lives by fo- 
 menting quarrels, and another studies the art of killing in every 
 form ; but this one lives only to heal — only to relieve the suffer- 
 ing and help the miserable. That is the profession I should be- 
 long to if I were a man." 
 
 Our young doctor sa3's 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 asain becomes inaudible. It is remarked to this
 
 126 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 young man that Mary Avon seems to have a pretty high opinion 
 of the medical profes'sion. 
 
 " She herself," he says, hastily, with a touch of color 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 universi- 
 ties, 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 mon- 
 ey, 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 mean time? 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. 
 
 " AVhy, 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 subsidize all you microscope 
 men. The next thing she will want is a license for the whole of 
 you to be allowed to vivisect criminals." 
 
 " I heard sometliing 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.
 
 VILLAXY ADROAD. 127 
 
 "At least T heard you say something about the government," 
 he said, kindly. " Well, all I ask from the government is to give 
 mc 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." 
 
 " xVud the impossibility of getting back to land V 
 
 "So much the better," he says, defiantlv. 
 
 "Why," she reminds him, laughing, "you were very anxious 
 about getting back some days ago. What has made you change 
 your wishes T' 
 
 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." 
 
 " Yon 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 ques- 
 tion 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 tliere is the entrance to Tob- 
 bcrniorry; andliere is Mingary Castle — brown ruins amidst 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 ba- 
 rometer refuses to budge. 
 
 But suddenly there is a brisk excitement. What though the 
 breeze that is darkening the water tliere is coming on right 
 ahead ? — avc shall be moving anyway. And as the first puffs of 
 it catch the sails, Angus Sutherland places Mary Avon in com- 
 mand ; and she is now — by the permission of her travelling phy- 
 sician — 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 cup-takers. , 
 
 " Now, Mary," says her hostess, " it all depends on you as to 
 whether Auq-us avIU catch the steamer this cvenina;.''
 
 128 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTIN'Cx ROMAXCE, 
 
 " Oh, does it ?" she says, vvitli 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 Avind, her sails flap- 
 ping 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 ? AVhat are you about V 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 can- 
 not 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 
 liopefulness that there is rougher water farther 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 olf ended, who sits beside him, pays hiiu 
 great attention, and talks "at" the rest of the passengers with 
 undisguised contem[)t. 
 
 "It is all lia])-hazard, the sailing of a yacht," she says to liiin, 
 though we can all hear. "Anybody can do it. lint they make 
 a jargon about it to puzzle other people, and pretend it is a sci- 
 ence, and all tliat." 
 
 " AVell," says the Laird, who is quite unaware of the fury that 
 fills lier brain, " there are some of the ])hrases in this book that 
 are verra extraordinary. In navigating this same Sound of Mull, 
 tliey say you are to keep the 'weather-shore aboard.' IIow can 
 ye keep the weather-shore aboard ?" 
 
 " Indeed, if we don't get into a port soon," remarks unr host-
 
 VILLANY ABKOAD. 129 
 
 ess and chief commissariat officer, " it will be tlie 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 al- 
 lowed 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 hair-brushes or candlesticks tells us that people accus- 
 tomed to calms fall into the habit of leaving their cabins ill ar- 
 ranged. 
 
 "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, quar- 
 rel 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 Hec- 
 tor of Moidart has from time to time to duck his head, or shake 
 the water from his jersey. The White Dove breasts these rush- 
 ing waves, and a foam of white water goes hissing away from ei- 
 ther side of her. Speine Mor and Speine Beg Ave 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 T 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 Loche Aline.
 
 130 WHITE WIXGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " This is a good one for the last," he calls to her. " Give lier 
 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's-bill : surely such a sky has nothing to do with a hurri- 
 cane. 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, let- 
 ting the White Dove have it at last, for he absolutely refuses to 
 have the top-sail down. The main tack, then — might not that 
 be hauled up ? No ; he will have none of John of Skye's coun- 
 sels. The White Dove tears her way through the Avater — we 
 raise a cloud of birds from the rocks opposite Scallasdale — we 
 see the white surf breaking in at Craignure — ahead of us is Lis- 
 more Light-house, 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 tur- 
 bulent tides off the light-house 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 ev- 
 erybody to give it up as imj^ossiblc, John of Skyc would hold to
 
 VILLANY ABROAD. 131 
 
 it, in the hope of pleasing Dr. Sutherland himself. And no soon- 
 er 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 bid- 
 ding his adieus. 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 ques- 
 tion, and dared not; "I will keep my promise." Then he jump- 
 ed 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 some- 
 times caught the waves and sent the spray flying in the wind. 
 The Chevalier had rang 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 , look- 
 ing through a glass ; and there is a general waving of handker- 
 chiefs 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 sUent. 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 mean time there was a notable bundle of letters, 
 newspapers, and what-not lying on the hall table. This was the 
 
 * Thank you very much, Mr. L , for calling the attention of the cap- 
 tain to the approaching boat. It was one of many good deeds that we are 
 grateful for.
 
 132 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 first welcome that civilization gave us. And although we de- 
 fied these claims, and determined that not an envelope should be 
 opened till after dinner, Mary Avon, having only one letter await- 
 ing her, was allowed to read that. She did it mechanically, list- 
 lessly — she Avas 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 with- 
 out 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 abscond- 
 ing 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 in- 
 structions, the securities — U. S. Five-Twenties — 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 afterward. 
 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 can- 
 not 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 fright- 
 ened, 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 tights 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 ?"
 
 AN ULTIMATION. 133 
 
 But the Laird leaves these and other wild questions to be an- 
 swered at leisure. In the mean time his eyes are burning like 
 coals of fire; and he is twisting his hands together in a vain en- 
 deavor to repress his anger and indignation. 
 
 " Tell them to put a horse to," he says, in a voice the abrupt- 
 ness of which startles every one. " I want to drive to the tele- 
 graph office. This is a thing for men to deal wi' — not weemen." 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AN ULTIMATION. 
 
 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 vehement- 
 ly, as if to get rid of some sort of electricity ; and once or twice 
 we heard him ejaculate to himself : " The scoondrel ! — the scoon- 
 drel !" It was in vain that our gentle Queen Titania, always anx- 
 ious to think the best of everybody, broke in on these fierce med- 
 itations, 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 tem- 
 porary loan of six or seven thousand pounds 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 confirma- 
 tion ; 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 lookout : 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
 
 134 WHITE wings: a yachting romancje. 
 
 a dark fire. " The scoondrel ! — the scoondrel !" he said ; and he 
 rubbed his hands as though he would wrench the fingers oflE. 
 
 "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 re- 
 garded her with a greater tenderness. He had become at once 
 her champion and her slave. When there was any playful quar- 
 rel 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 mut- 
 tered 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 oflSce 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 wo must go in to dinner," is the practical answer.
 
 AN ULTIMATION. 135 
 
 " 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 sat 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 des2)erandum — 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, cheer- 
 fully. " 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 mid- 
 dle, 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 ! 
 
 7
 
 136 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 But it soon became apparent that any topic was of profound in- 
 terest — 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 cofBn. And, indeed, amidst 
 all this talking and laughing, Mary Avon brightened up consider- 
 ably, 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 sta- 
 tioned at sea-port toivns are particularly requested to search out- 
 ward-hound 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 guardi- 
 ans toward 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 Avho were their parents, or who stood 
 to them in the relation of parents ? Our sovereign mistress, a lit- 
 tle bit frightened, said she had always found her boys obedient 
 enough. But this would not do. Considering the care and af- 
 fection bestowed on them, considering the hardly earned wealth 
 spent on them, considering the easy fortune offered to them, was 
 it not boundcn 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 afterward that we obtained full infor- 
 mation 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
 
 AK ULTIMATION. 137 
 
 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 dishonor that this scoundrel had 
 brought on her mother's name. 
 
 But this further news only served to stir up once more the 
 Laird's slun^bering 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, al- 
 most gloomily. " I have a right to expect him to do something 
 for me now." 
 
 The steamer slows in ; the ropes are thrown across ; the gang- 
 ways run up ; and the crowd begins to pour out. And here is a 
 tall and handsome young fellow who comes along with a pleas- 
 ant smile of greeting on his face. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Smith ?" says Queen T , very gra- 
 ciously ; 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 Ice- 
 land in a hurry ? I have brought a rifle as well as my breech- 
 loader. But perhaps I had better wait to be invited ?" 
 
 This young man, with the clear, pale complexion, and the dark 
 hair, and dark gray eyes, had good looks and a pleasant smile in 
 his favor ; 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
 
 138 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 man who had got liis luggage. And when we had got him into 
 the wagonette, and were driving off, what must he needs talk about 
 but the absconding of Mr. Frederick Smetliurst, whom lie 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 hear- 
 ing, 
 
 " Howard, I wisli to have a few raeenutes' 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 ex- 
 planation." 
 
 We sat down in silence, Howard Smith looking more con- 
 cerned 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 meas- 
 ured 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 under- 
 stood — that I had intended to leave ye Denny-mains at my death. 
 I have neither kitli nor kin of my own blood ; and it was my in- 
 tention 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 all, he had 
 certainly been brought up on the understanding that he was to 
 succeed to the property. 
 
 " Now," caid he, slowly, " I may say I have shown ye some 
 kindness — "
 
 AN ULTIMATIOX. 139 
 
 " 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 cold- 
 ness of demeanor 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 oflE 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 fi'om 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 liim, 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 disclos- 
 ure of them. 
 
 " That is one of two things," said the Laird, with forced com- 
 posure, " 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
 
 140 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 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 in- 
 clinations 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 hira !" The Laird brought his fist down on the ta- 
 ble 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 scoondrcl 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 whethei' 1 am un- 
 reasonable. I will leave ye to talk it over." 
 
 He went to the door. Then he turned for a inomcnt 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."
 
 THE NKW 8UIT0K. 141 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 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 dumb- 
 founded — she is revenging the many wrongs of her sex by cov- 
 ertly 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, undoubted!}"," 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 w'ish 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
 
 142 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 it is not reasonable. Neither the one thing nor the other is pos- 
 sible—" 
 
 Here the young man paused for a moment. 
 
 " Surely," he said, " my uncle can't mean, by putting these im- 
 possible 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 some- 
 what 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 opin- 
 ion of your judgment, I know." 
 
 The ingenious youth ! 
 
 " Besides," said he, warmly, " do you think it very compliment- 
 ary 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, sym- 
 pathetic 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 sec," said his sage adviser, with a highly matter-of- 
 fact air, " your uncle may not regard either the one thing or the 
 othai* as impossible." 
 
 " But they are impossible," said he. 
 
 " Then I am very sorry," said she, with great sweetness ; " be- 
 cause Denny -mains is really a beautiful place, and the house 
 would lend itself splendidly to a thorough scheme of redccora- 
 tion ; the liall could be made perfectly lovely. I would have the 
 wooden dado painted a dark bottle-green, and the wall over it a 
 rich Pompeiian-red; I don't believe the colors of a hall can be 
 too bold if the tones are good in themselves. Pompeiian-red is 
 a capital background for pictures, too ; and 1 like to sec pictures 
 in tlic hall ; the gentlemen can look at tliem while they are wait- 
 ing for their wives. Don't you think Indian matting makes a
 
 THE NEW SUITOR. li'.i 
 
 very nice, serviceable, sober-colored dado for a dining-room — so 
 long as it docs not drive your pictures too higli on the wall ?" 
 
 The fiendishness of this woman! Denny -mains was being 
 withdrawn from him at this very moment, and she was bother- 
 ing 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, ^nd 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 natu- 
 ral 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 ?' "
 
 144 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 — the gay voice passes through the liall — 
 
 " ' Lord help 'em, how I pities all uu — ' " 
 — 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 low- 
 er 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 man- 
 ner. No one has been whispering to her of the dark plots sur- 
 rounding 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 awk- 
 ward silence. 
 
 " Oh yes, well enough," said he ; and then he goes on to 
 say, stammeringly, " Of course I — I have nothing to say against 
 licr— " 
 
 " 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 any- 
 thing 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 won- 
 der my imcle sliould be interested in her, and concerned about
 
 THE NEW SUITOR. 145 
 
 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 your 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 se- 
 rious — 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 emphat- 
 ic 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 Adel- 
 phi melodramas. What he asks is simple and natural enough. 
 He is, as you see, very fond of Islavy Avon ; he Avould like to see 
 her well provided for ; he would like to see you settled and es- 
 tablished at Denny-mains. But he does not ask the impossible. 
 If she does not agTee, 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 re- 
 markable. 
 
 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
 
 146 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 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 that at all. If my uncle thinks that 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 or- 
 der 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 moni- 
 tress, 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 demeanor. 
 
 Here a humble witness of this interview has once more to 
 interpose to save this daring young man from a thunder-bolt. 
 Will he not understand that the remotest and most roundabout 
 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
 
 THE NEW SUITOR. 14V 
 
 have done sufficient. And it is very kind of )-ou 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 ; hence- 
 forth 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, in- 
 deed, 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 pop- 
 ular 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 eman- 
 cipate 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, abrupt- 
 ly ; " ye must tell me where I can see some of your pictures." 
 
 " Oh no," she said, laughing, " I shall not victimize 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 knoAV 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
 
 148 WHITE wings: a yachting komance. 
 
 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 pleas- 
 ant-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 afterward — the blood-red not quite gone from the west- 
 ern skies, a cool wind coming wp 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 XX. 
 
 CHASING A THUNDER-STORM. 
 
 "All on board, then ! — all on board!" the summons comes 
 ringing through the wonder-land of dreams. And then, amidst 
 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 sails set, is 
 swinging there at her moorings; best of all, a strong breeze, ap- 
 parently from the north-east, is ruffling the dark-blue seas, and 
 driving a line of white surf on the farther shores. The news 
 comes that Master Fred, by darting about in the dingy 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
 
 CHASING A THUNDER-STORM. 149 
 
 of Skye is all impatience to take advantage of the favorable 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 w'ith 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 gayety that startles the silence of the 
 summer morning ? Or is it that mythical hero Honiesh 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 Avhat 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 bo 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 stum- 
 ble. 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 favor. 
 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.
 
 150 WHITE ■wings: a vachtixg romance. 
 
 Unaware of this rapid criticism, and unconcerned by all the 
 bustle going on around, our new friend is carelessly and cheer- 
 fully 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 stand- 
 ing 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 intrusted 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 main-sail. 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 jibe, or I should get into disgrace." 
 
 "Then I hope you won't let her jibe, 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 moun- 
 tains ; tlicre was a clear greenish-yellow where the sunlight struck 
 them ; the great slopes were dappled with the shadows of purple- 
 brown ; farther 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 skip- 
 per. He remained forward superintending the setting of the top- 
 sail : the White Dove was to " have it " while the fresh breeze 
 continued to blow. 
 
 And still the squally north-easter 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 light-house 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 In-
 
 CHASING A THUNDER-STORM. 151 
 
 nismorc. And still the White Dove spins along, with foam-dia- 
 monds glittering in the sunlight at her bows ; and w'e hear the 
 calling of the sea-swallows, and the throbbing of a steamer some- 
 where 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 
 .'jpread her wings at last 
 
 "Ay, ay," says John of Skye, who has relieved Miss Avon at 
 the helm ; " it iss a great pcety." 
 
 "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 color. 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 fash- 
 ion. " 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 liad his book with them — the book 
 about tiger-hunting in Nepaul, don't you know ? Very interest- 
 ing 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 imperturba- 
 ble good-humor. " Oh yes, I am sure I have heard of him — the 
 Geographical Society, or something like that; really those even- 
 ings are most amusing. The women are awfully bored, and yet 
 they do keep their eyes open somehow. But about those Indian
 
 152 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 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 re- 
 ports 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 net- 
 ting, 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 pheas- 
 ants 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, re- 
 lating his personal experiences, and telling such stories as oc- 
 curred to him. There was a good sprinkling of well-known 
 names in this desultory talk : how could Miss Avon fail to be in- 
 terested, even if the subject-matter was chiefly composed of pheas- 
 ant-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 characterized 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 sum- 
 mer seas? Now, indeed, our good friend the Laird had no need 
 to fear being startled by the sudden propounding of conundrums.
 
 CHASING A THUNDER-STORM. 153 
 
 He was startled by something else. Coming up from luncheon, 
 we found that au extraordinary darkness prevailed in the western 
 heavens — a strange bronze-purple gloom, that seemed to contain 
 within it the promise of a hundred thunder-storms. 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 thunder-storm 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 Quiuish, 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 a sombre purple. Darker still were 
 the islands lying toward the land — Gometra, and Ulva, and Inch 
 Kenneth — w'hilc the great rampart of cliff from Loch-na-Keal to 
 Loch Scridaiu 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 gray sur- 
 face 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 otily 
 before us a vague mist of gray. Colonsay is gone; Inch Ken- 
 neth is gone ; no longer can we make out the dark rocks of Eris- 
 geir. And then the whispering of the sea increases ; there is a 
 deeper gloom overhead ; 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 wc shall get into the Sound of Ulva before dark," 
 says Miss Avon.
 
 154 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 "I wish Angus was on board. It is a shame he should be 
 cheated out of his thunder-storm. But we shall have the equi- 
 noctials 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-gray sea, which, 
 far aAvay in the west, has one or two gleams of a dull bronze on 
 it, as if some after-glow 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 " Fare- 
 well to Funeray." He has got on his black oil -skins, though 
 there is not a drop of rain. 
 
 By-and-by, however, he jumps to his feet, and appears to listen 
 intently. 
 
 "Ay, do you hear it?" he says, Avith a short laugh. "And it 
 is off the land it is coming !" 
 
 He calls aloud : 
 
 " Look out boys ! it is a squahl coming over, and we'll hev the 
 top-sail down whatever." 
 
 Then we hear a roaring in the dark ; and presently the head- 
 sails 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 
 oil -skins go staggering this way and that along the slippery 
 decks ; the White Dove is wrestling with the sudden storm ; an- 
 other low murmur of thunder comes booming through the dark- 
 ness. What is that solitary light far in there toward the land ? 
 ■ — dare any steamer venture so near the shore on such a night?
 
 CHASING A THUNDER-STORM. 165 
 
 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 lookout — 
 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 ciy 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 P'' — '"'' Ready 
 about P'' 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 thunder-storm, but it was a 
 wild and a wet night, nevertheless. Taking in the mizzen was no 
 joke amidst 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 recognized 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? '''' Doivn fore-sail, boys P'' — 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
 
 156 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 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 yA 
 is a ffreen-shored island : the sailors call it Ool-a-va. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 chasing seals. 
 
 Next morning found the Laird in a most excellent humor. 
 All was going well. Though nothing had been said or promised 
 by the Youth, was not his coming away with us into these re- 
 mote solitudes — to say nothing of the very pleasant manner in 
 which he sought to entertain Miss Mary Avon — sufficient evi- 
 dence that he had at least no great repugnance to Ms 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 humor 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 np 
 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 Avith a 
 certain proud satisfaction. We'll sec 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; liabilities not over £20,000; there was thus an esti- 
 mated surplus of no less than £15,000. AVhy, then, he asked, 
 should certain poor creatures on the Finance Committee make 
 such a work about the merest trifles? Life was not given to
 
 CHASING SEALS. 157 
 
 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, Wel- 
 liam Dunbaur : 
 
 " ' Be merry, man, and tak not sair in mind 
 
 The wavering of this v/retched world of sorrow ; 
 To God be humble, to thy friend be kind. 
 
 And with thy neighbors 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 Strath- 
 govan. 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 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 abso- 
 lutely double picture was produced — of the gloomy mountain 
 masses of Ben-More, amidst silver gleams of cloud and motion- 
 less wreaths of mist ; of the basaltic pillars of the coast nearer 
 at hand — a pale reddish -brown, with here and there a scant 
 
 8
 
 158 WHITE wings: a VACHTINa ROMANCE. 
 
 sprinkling of gi-ass; of that broad belt of rich orange - yellow 
 sea-weed that ran all along the rocks, marking the junction of 
 the Avorld of the land with the water -world below. An abso- 
 lutely 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 undis- 
 turbed 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 the breasts of them are 
 very close and fine in the feathers ; and I would like a mufE or a 
 bag made of them for a leddy — for a young leddy." 
 
 Mar}'^ 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, laugh- 
 ing. " 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 rifie into the gig. "The London solici- 
 tors 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 :
 
 CHASING SEALS. 159 
 
 " ' Be blythc in heart for any aventure, 
 For oft with wise men it lias been said aforow, 
 Without Gladuesse 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 hang- 
 ing down, his long neck and wings and body apparently a gray- 
 white against the shadow of the basaltic rocks. Then, lazily flap- 
 ping, 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 color, or slowly and heavily be- 
 took themselves to some farther promontory. And now, as we 
 passed along the narrow Sound, and saw through the translucent 
 water the wonder-land of sea-weed 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 harbor 
 on the previous night. It is not every one who, in pitch dark- 
 ness 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, clansmen !" 
 
 but still we made good way. As we got farther out, wo came in 
 sight of Colonsay; and farther off still, Staffa, lying like a dark 
 cloud on the gray sea. Inch Kenneth, for which we were mak- 
 ing, seemed almost black, although among the mists that lay 
 along the Gribun and Bourg cliffs there was a dull silver-yellow
 
 160 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 light, as thougli some sunlight had got mixed up with the 
 clouds. 
 
 " No, no," the Laird was saying, as he studied a scrap of pa- 
 per, " it is not a great property to admeenister ; but I am strong 
 in favor of local management. After reading that book on Lon- 
 don, 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 neighborhood, 
 Howard, I hope ye will stand out against the policy of annexa- 
 tion. It is only a lot o' Radical bodies that are for upsetting in- 
 stitutions 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, eying him severely. "They are of 
 as much importance as human life ; is there anything of greater 
 importance in the world? By abolisliin' the Bigginsburn nui- 
 sance, 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 acci- 
 dents in the Mitherdrnm Road, for we are going to have a con- 
 tcenuous line of lamps that '11 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
 
 CHASING SEALS. 161 
 
 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 bas- 
 ket handed down from the bow^ ; he got out the whiskey 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 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 recognize 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. 
 
 "0 boatman, a farewell to you, 
 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 circum- 
 spection, 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 cau- 
 tiously looks over. He continues his progress. 
 
 " This is terrible woark !" says the Laird, in a stage-whisper, as
 
 162 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 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 be- 
 hind a rock we have a pretty clear view of the scene of opera- 
 tions. Apparently there is no sign of any living thing, except 
 that a big fish leaped into the air some dozen yards off. There- 
 after a dead silence. 
 
 After waiting about a quarter of an hour or so, the Laird seem- 
 ed 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. 
 Eight 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 wait- 
 ed 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 com- 
 panion. 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 pro- 
 pose 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 difliculty 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 toward some
 
 CHASINO SEALS. 163 
 
 island, on the chance of one of them rising in our neighborhood 
 — 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 for 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 
 skirts. 
 
 The silver-gray 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 silk -worms 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 ex- 
 cept 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 sat silent during all this. At last she said, ap- 
 parently with some effort, and yet very deliberately : 
 
 8*
 
 164 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 " I — I tbink 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 can- 
 not afford such long idleness. Do you thing it is quite fair ?" 
 
 The women stared at this girl, who spoke with some earnest- 
 ness, 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 
 I'esume 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 XXH. 
 
 " 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 nmch more 
 than an acquaintance, talks quite confidentially to his hostess. 
 She has bis 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 oth- 
 erwise to have lost that money. She is not a bit afraid of going 
 up to London to support lierself by her work. It seems to 
 amuse her, on the whole." 
 
 *' Mary has plenty of courage," says the other, quietly.
 
 "uncertain, cov, and hard to please." 165 
 
 " I don't wonder at my uncle being so fond of lier : lie likes 
 her independent ways and her good-humor. I shouldn't be sur- 
 prised 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 some- 
 thing 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 sup- 
 pose 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
 
 166 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 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 humor your uncle. He will come to see that this scheme 
 of his is impracticable ; and in the mean thne, 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 labor 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 liad 
 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, 
 cei'tainly 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 pleas- 
 ant 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 liavc 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 com-
 
 "uncertain, coy, and hard to please." 167 
 
 panion, and Mary Avon, looking up with her black eyes full of 
 a cheerful friendliness, said, 
 
 " Well, 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 au- 
 thority. " We are quite ready when you are ready, John ; Fred 
 will have the things oS the table in a couple of minutes." 
 
 " Very well, mem," says the obedient John of Skye, going for- 
 ward to get the men up to the windlass. 
 
 Our young doctor should have been there to see us getting un- 
 der way. The Sound of Ulva is an excellent harbor and anchor- 
 age when you are once in it ; but getting out of it, unless with 
 both wind and tide in your favor, is very like trying to manoeuvre 
 a man-of-war in a teacup. But we had long ago come to the con- 
 clusion that John of Skye could sail the White Dove through a 
 gas-pipe, with half a gale 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 in- 
 deed looked that far-reaching loch on this breezy, changeful morn- 
 ing — 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 beautiful sand of lona. 
 The White Dove seemed to understand what was required of her. 
 Her head was set for the gleaming south, her white wings out-
 
 168 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 spread. As she sprung 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 be- 
 hind 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 oth- 
 er 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 mermaids' halls of sea-weed; and 
 an abundant, interesting life — all manner of sea-birds, black rab- 
 bits running among the rocks, seals swimming in the silent bays. 
 Then the patch of civilization under shelter of the hills ; the yel- 
 low corn-fields ; the dots of human creatures, and the red and 
 tawny-gray 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 sum- 
 mer seas : it shines for us forever ! 
 
 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 for- 
 ward, as some unlucky wight gets drowned in a shower of sea- 
 spray : anything catches their attention for the moment. And 
 60 the White Dove swings along, and the sea gets lieavier and 
 heavier, and we watch the breakers springing high over the black 
 rocks of Colonsay. It is the Laird who is now instructing onr 
 now guest, pointing out to him, as they come in view, Staffa, the 
 Dutchman, Fladda, and Lnnga, and Carnburg. Tiree is invisible 
 at the horizon ; there is too wild a whirl of wind and water. 
 
 The gloom behind us increases; we know not wliat 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 lona Sound.
 
 UNCERTAIN, COY, AND HARD TO PLEASE." 169 
 
 But the Immiliating 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 join- 
 ing 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 — recognizes these signs instantly, and. 
 insists on immediate luncheon. There is a double reason for 
 this haste. We can now ran under the lee of the Erisgeir rocks, 
 where there will be less danger to Master Fred's plates and tum- 
 blers. 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 color 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 Dubh Artach Light-house.* 
 
 " But we must really wait for Angus," our hostess says, " be- 
 fore going out there. He was always so anxious to go to Dubh 
 Artach." 
 
 "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, demure- 
 ly. " You can read, it if you like, Mary. It is in pencil, for I 
 was afraid of the ink-bottle going waltzing over tlie table." 
 
 Miss Avon would not read the letter. She said wc 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. 
 
 * Have you caught any sharks yet, Mr. E ? Many a time we looked 
 
 at the little spire out at the edge of the world, and many an unheard ines- 
 Bage we sent you ; but the fates were not propitious, and we never had a 
 chance of even getting near enough to signal you.
 
 170 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 Mary Avon was seated at the top of the companion, read- 
 ing. 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 add- 
 ed, 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 An- 
 gus Sutherland comes back to us. You shall stand by the gang- 
 way — do you hear? — and receive him with a smiling face; and 
 if you arc 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
 
 "uncertain, cov, and iiauu to please." 171 
 
 rocks ; lona shining there over tlie smoother waters of the 
 Sound; the sea breaking white, and spouting up in columns, as 
 it daslied 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 got quit of the At- 
 lantic 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, amidst all that diving, and 
 rolling, and pitching? 
 
 And then, as Ave 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. Famil- 
 iar 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 colors of sea and shore? Half -past nine at 
 night on the 8th of August, and still the west and north were 
 Hushed with a pale rose-red, behind the dark, rich, olive-green of 
 the shadowed lona. But what was that to the magic world that 
 lay before us as we returned to the yacht? Now the moon bad 
 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 im- 
 aginatively or relatively, but positively and literally violet. Then 
 between the violet-colored sky and the violet-colored 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 extraordinar}' 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, recognizing 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 
 Fionphort 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 com- 
 ing on Thursday. We must go back to meet him at Ballahulish 
 or Corpach,"
 
 172 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 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 ex- 
 pect 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 sat 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 color. We sat on deck till a 
 late hour ; the world was asleep around us ; not a sound dis- 
 turbed 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 moon- 
 light, and all around a whispering of the lonely sea? She had 
 nothing to fear. She might have crossed over to lona, and 
 might have walked all by herself through the ruins, and in calm- 
 ness regarded the sculptured stones. The dead sleep sound. 
 
 CHAPTER XXHI. 
 
 SECRET SCHEMES. 
 
 The delight with which Jolin 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 liim, 
 found instant and practical expression on this fine, breezy, sunlit 
 
 morninir. 
 
 " Hector," says he, " we will put the gaff top-sail 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
 
 SECRET SCHEMES. 173 
 
 leave the green waters and the pink rocks of Polterriv, and get 
 into the open and breezy channel. " Oh, we will niek a good 
 run the day. And I beg your pardon, mein, 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 chcntleman I will ever 
 see, mem. And Ave 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 har- 
 bor behind the granite rocks. And is lona 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 cornfields, 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 forever. But lona 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 gray 
 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.
 
 174 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," says her hostess, with an 
 ominous curtuess. 
 
 " Wliy, 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 Re- 
 gent Street ?" 
 
 " I have a great many sketches," says Mary Avon, " and I must 
 try to make something out of them, where there is less distrac- 
 tion of amusement. And really, you know, you have so many 
 friends — Would you like me to become a fixture, like the main- 
 mast — " 
 
 " 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 those fearful provocations ?" 
 
 " Never mind : you will find out in time. But when you get 
 married, Mary, don't forget to bny"a copy of Doddridge on Pa- 
 tience. 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 -color 
 sketch of Polterriv. We know why she wants to put some 
 further work on that hasty production. Yesterday the Laird
 
 SECRET SCHEMES, 175 
 
 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 amidst such pitching and diving ? Now that we are 
 round the Ross, the White Dove has shifted her course ; the 
 wind is more on lier beam ; the main-sheet has been hauled in ; 
 and the noble ship goes ploughing along in splendid style ; but 
 how about water-color drawing ? 
 
 Suddenly, as the yacht gives a heavy lurch to leeward, an aw- 
 ful sound is heard below. Queen T clambers down the 
 
 companion, and holds on by the door of the saloon, the others 
 followino: and lookino' 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 dis- 
 appeared from before her. A tumbler rolls backward and for- 
 ward on the floor, empty. A dishevelled bundle of paper, hang- 
 ing 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 hope- 
 less and silent, staring before her like a maniac in a cell. 
 
 " What ever 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 autom- 
 aton 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. " What ever 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 earth- 
 quakes 1"
 
 1V6 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 But tbis sneer at the White Dove, because she has no svving- 
 ino-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 arc as safe as they 
 would be in a case in the British Museum ? A luncheon-party 
 on board the White Dove, Avhen there is a heavy Atlantic swell 
 running, is not an imposing ceremony. It would not look well 
 as a colored 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 aflford receptacles for 
 knives and spoons ; bottles and tumblers plunged into hollows, 
 and propped ; Master Fred, balancing himself behind these stoop- 
 ing figures, bottle in hand, and ready to replenish any cautiously- 
 proffered wineglass. But it serves. And Dr. Sutherland has as- 
 sured us that the heavier the sea, the more necessary is luncheon 
 for the Aveaker 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 flag run up to the top of the white pole 1 
 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 main-land. 
 
 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-braid- 
 ed cap, for we happen to have on board a gentle, small creature 
 who is a great friend of his.* And she waves her white hand- 
 kerchief, of course ; and you should see what a fluttering of simi- 
 lar tokens there is all along the steamer's decks, and on the pad- 
 dle-boxes. Farewell ! — farewell ! — may you have a smooth land- 
 ing at Staffa, and a pleasant sail down the Sound, in the quiet of 
 the afternoon ! 
 
 * Sir, wc would drink your health, but not even Friedrich d'or himself could 
 hold a glass straight in this heavy sea.
 
 SECRET SCHEMES. 177 
 
 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 tliose rolling waves, and sends the spray 
 Hying from her bows. We have passed Loch Buy ; Garveloch 
 and the adjacent islands 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 Lon- 
 don again, or whether it is that she is proud of being again pro- 
 moted to the tiller, she has quite recovered her spirits. Wc hear 
 our singing-bird once more, though it is difficult, amidst 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 Can- 
 terbury, 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 philoso- 
 pher 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. "Yerra good! 
 verra good ! I owe ye one for that — I owe ye one ! Herbert, 
 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. AVe 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
 
 178 WHITE TVINGS: A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 it — of hinting to Tom Galbraith that he should exheebit more in 
 London : the influence of such work as his should not be con- 
 fined to Edinburgh. And jealous as they may be in the South 
 of the Scotch school, they could not refuse to recognize its excel- 
 lence — eh ? No, no ; when Galbraith likes to exheebit in Lon- 
 don, ye'll hear a stir, I'm thinking. The jealousy of English art- 
 ists 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 Edin- 
 burgh, a dealer came all the way from London to look at it." 
 
 " Did he buy it ?" asked Miss x\von, gently. 
 
 " Buy it !" the Laird said, with a contemptuous laugh. " There 
 are some of us about Glasgow who know better than to let a pict- 
 ure like that get to London. I bought it maself. 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 Den- 
 ny-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 lona was now right ahead, and our 
 progress w^as but slow. As the evening wore on, it was proposed 
 thai 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 this solitary little loch was strange enough. And 
 then, as we slowly beat up against the northei'ly wind to the head 
 of the loch — a beautiful, quiet, sheltered little cup of a harbor 
 among the hills — we found before us, or rather over us, the splen- 
 dors of a stormy sunset among the mountains above Glen More. 
 It was a striking spectacle — the vast and silent gloom of the val- 
 leys below, which were of a cold and intense green in the shad- 
 ow ; then above, among the great shoulders and peaks of the 
 hills, flashing gleams of golden light,-and long swaths 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 colors. There was an absolute silence in tins overshad-
 
 BEFORE BREAKFAST. IVQ 
 
 owed 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 Avhose eyes, grown accus- 
 tomed 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 humor in them ? It was, 
 at all events, most kind of you to tell the young lady that her no- 
 tion of throwing up her holiday and setting out for London was 
 mere midsummer madness. How could you — or any one else — 
 ffuess at the origin of so stransfe a wish ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 BEFORE BREAKFAST. 
 
 "VYho 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 color in the east, with the reflect- 
 
 9
 
 180 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 ed glare on the water, and tlie bar of dark land between. She 
 knows better. She has a wholesome fear of cbrorao-lithographs. 
 She turns rather to those great mountain masses, witb their mys- 
 teriously 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 color 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 in- 
 tently might catch snatches of songs and airs of a somewhat in- 
 coherent 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 con- 
 tent 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 " — 
 
 w^hen 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 foreshorten- 
 ing like anything else. And if Miss Avon may be vaguely con- 
 scious that had our young doctor been on board she would not 
 have been left so long alone, that had nothing to do with her 
 work. The mornings on which he used to join her on deck, and 
 chat to her while she painted, seemed far away now. He and 
 she together would see Dunvegan no more. 
 
 But who is this who most cautiously comes up the compan- 
 ion, bearing in his hand a cup and saucer ?
 
 BEFORE BREAKFAST. 181 
 
 "Miss Avon," says be, 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 ray 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 go- 
 ing 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 bad 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 sell- 
 ing 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
 
 182 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 mucli too good sense to buy spurious old masters, or bad exam- 
 ples 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 favorite 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 ma- 
 terials : 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 victimized." 
 
 "Oh, victimized!" 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 lona, don't you know — that you gave my 
 uncle, is charming. And they tell me you have given that pict- 
 ure 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 color 
 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 
 ihat — 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 dimin- 
 ishing. "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 Uiat you 
 never meant it — and would prefer to buy the picture." 
 
 She answers, somewhat shortly.
 
 BEFORE BREAKFAST. 183 
 
 " 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 nie 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 pict- 
 ure." 
 
 "Oh, he is a judge of art also? I am told he knows every- 
 thing." 
 
 " 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 honor, 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 Hec- 
 tor 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
 
 184 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 down again — to get bis 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 com- 
 pendium, and will have her walk up and down with him before 
 breakfast. 
 
 " What !" he says, eying 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 delight- 
 ed — " 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 dis- 
 tinctly, 
 
 " I said he was a smart lad," said the Laird, nnblushingly. 
 " 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 the 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 be- 
 fore 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 swallow- 
 ing 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. 
 
 " Yc're verra fond of sailing?" says the Laird.
 
 IJEFOKE BREAKFAST. 185 
 
 " 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 beauti- 
 ful holiday again ?" 
 
 The Laird laughed a little to himself. Then he said, with a 
 business-like air : 
 
 " I have been thinking that, when ray nephew came to Denny- 
 mains, I would buy a yacht for him, that he could keep down 
 the Clvde somewhere — at Gourock, or Kilmun, or Dunoon may- 
 be. 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 £3000," 
 
 " Oh, indeed." 
 
 " A great deal depends on the steward," he continues, serious- 
 ly. " A good steward that does not touch drink is jist worth 
 anything. If I could get a first-class man, I would not mind giv- 
 ing 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 but- 
 ler-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 weemen-servants in-doors 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 
 
 9*
 
 186 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 the people wlio 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. Til 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 occasional- 
 ly," he added, in a facetious manner. " I would expect to be in- 
 vited—" 
 
 " Surely, sir, you cannot expect your nephew to be so ungrate- 
 ful—" 
 
 " Oh," he said, " I only expect reasonable things. Young peo- 
 ple 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 some- 
 thing 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 in- 
 vited 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 '11 
 do it well, when I tell him who it's for. . . . The leddies' cabin
 
 A PROTECTOR. 187 
 
 blue and silver — cool in the summer — the sky-light 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 XXV. 
 
 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 Moi- 
 dart has spent about two hours in scraping and rubbiifg the brass 
 and copper of the galley stove-pipe ; and Captain John, with 
 ipany 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. Suth- 
 erland will see how the White Dove will sail !
 
 188 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 " I should imagine," says the Youth, in an undertone, to his 
 hostess, as we are working out tl»e narrow entrance to Loch 
 SpeUv, " 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 invita- 
 tion to go yachting with us for another month ; or was she, with 
 a cruel sarcasm, referring to the probability of his having to re- 
 main a prisoner for that time, in order to please his uncle ? 
 
 However, the conversation had to be dropped, for at this mo- 
 ment the Laird and his protegee made their appearance ; and of 
 course a deck-chair had to be brought for her, and a footstool, 
 and a sun-shade, 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 top-sail 
 breeze from the south-east, the White Dove was making for the 
 Lynn of IVforven, and bringing us more and more within view of 
 the splendid circle of mountains, from Bcn-Cruachan in the cast 
 to Ben-Nevis in the north ; from Bcn-Ncvis down to the succes- 
 sive waves of the Morvcn 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.
 
 A PROTECTOR. 189 
 
 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 
 breech-loader 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 con- 
 verge, until at the horizon they become a solid blaze of light un- 
 endurable 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 -Kus onward, gentle tide; we have an appointment to 
 keep within the shadow of the mountains that guard Clencoe. 
 
 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 humorist. 
 
 '"''Kee! keeP'' 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 ! ' "Wliat,' said I to him in the morning, 'had ye 
 nightmare or delirium tremens, that ye made such a noise in the 
 night V ' Did I snore V said he — I'm thinking somebody else 
 must have complained before. ' Snore !' said I ; ' twenty gram- 
 puses 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
 
 190 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 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 
 hke 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 blister- 
 ing, scorching with a sharp pain any nose or cheek that was in- 
 advertently turned toward 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, Avith a crafty smile, "there will not 
 be a dead calm very long." 
 
 And there, in at tlic 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 swinging over of the boom and a fluttering of the 
 as yet unreleased head-sails. A welcome breeze, surely, from the 
 far hills of Kingairloch. AVe thank you, you beautiful Kingair- 
 loch, 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 !
 
 A PROTECTOR. 191 
 
 We catch a distant glimpse of the white houses of Port Ap- 
 pin ; we bid adieu to the musically named Eilean-na-Sluina ; far 
 ahead of us is the small white light-house at the mouth of the 
 narrows of Corran, But there is to be no run up to Fort Wil- 
 liam for us to-night ; the tide will turn soon ; we cannot get 
 through the Corran narrows. And so there is a talk of Balla- 
 hulish ; 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 him- 
 self at these innocent efforts. 
 
 Grander and grander grow those ramparts of mountains ahead 
 of us, with their wine-colored 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 leaps up to the beau- 
 tiful 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 Argyll 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."
 
 192 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 " We will be asbore for bim in tbe morning, whatever," says 
 Jobn of Skye, cbeerfully ; and you would bave tbougbt it was 
 bis guest, and not ours, wbo was coming on board. 
 
 Tbe roaring out of tbe ancbor-cbain was almost immediately 
 followed by Master Fred's bell. Mary Avon was silent and dis- 
 traite at dinner ; but notbing more was said of ber return to Lon- 
 don. It was understood tbat wben Angus Sutberland came on 
 board we sbould go back to Castle Osprey, and bave a couple 
 of days on sbore, to let the White Dove get rid of ber parasitic 
 sea-weed. 
 
 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 tbe cir- 
 cle of great mountains, tbe strange movings of tbe 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 tbe 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 tbe mountain, serrated with trees, 
 grew dark ; then tbe edge of tbe moon appeared over tbe black 
 line of trees ; and by-and-by the world was filled with this new, 
 pale light, though the shadows on tbe hills were deeper than 
 ever. We did not hurry on our way back to the yacht. It was 
 a magical night — tbe black overhanging bills, tbe white clouds 
 crossing the blue vaults of the heavens, tbe wan light on tbe sea. 
 What need for Jobn of Skye to put up tbat golden lamp at the 
 bow? But it guided us on our way back, under tbe dusky 
 shadows of the hills. 
 
 Then below, in tbe orange-lit cabin, with cards and dominoes 
 and chess about, a curious thing overhead happens to catch the 
 eye of one of tbe gamblers. Through tbe 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. 
 Wliat can this be? Why green? And it is Mary Avon wbo 
 first suggests what this strangely luminous thing must be — tbe 
 boom, wet with the dew, shining in the moonlight. 
 
 " Come," says the Laird to ber, " put a shawl round ye, and we 
 will go up for another look round."
 
 A PROTECTOR. 193 
 
 And so, after a but, they went on deck, tlicsc two, leaving the 
 others to their bezique. And tlie 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 be- 
 cause 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 Scotch- 
 man 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 learned as a boy. I have heard of Scotch 
 soldiers in distant countries just bursting out crying w^hen they 
 heard by chance a bit repeated o' the Psalms of David. And 
 the strength and reliance of them ! what grrander source of con- 
 solation can ye have? 'As the mountains are round about Jeru- 
 salem, so the Lord is round about His people from henceforth 
 even forever.' What are the trials of the hour to them that be- 
 lieve and know and hope ? They have a sure faith ; the captivity 
 is not forever. Do ye remember the beginning of the 126th 
 Psalm ? — it reminds me most of all of the Scotch phrase, 
 " ' Laughin' niaist like to greet '
 
 194 WHITE AVINGS; A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 — '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 cap- 
 tivity, 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 moon-lit 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 XXVL 
 
 "mARY ! MARY !" 
 
 Is there any one awake and listening — perhaps with a tre- 
 mor 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 steaincr; and that becomes fainter and fainter, while the 
 White Dove gradually ceases the motion caused by the passing 
 waves. Again there is an absolute stillness, with only that whis- 
 pering 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
 
 "mARy! MARY !" 195 
 
 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 drip- 
 ping mackintosh — 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 gray, 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 bis 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, regard- 
 ing him with a great kindliness. " ATe will try to make you for- 
 get that you have ever been away. Although," she added, frank- 
 ly, " 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."
 
 196 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 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 pas- 
 sion 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 an- 
 swer ; " 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." 
 
 " AVhy ?" 
 
 "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 philosopliy in your blood, 
 it is better than getting it in 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
 
 "mary; mary!" 19V 
 
 under the impression that Angus Sutherland had a very warm 
 regard for Mary Avon ; and she had formed certain other sus- 
 picions. 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 Suth- 
 erland's face burnt 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, gray, 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 
 e^-es 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 stu- 
 dent 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
 
 198 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 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 beau- 
 tiful was that calm slate-blue mirror beneath, showing every out- 
 line 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 color than the big clusters of scarlet row- 
 ans 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-color 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 look- 
 ing forward to showing your pictures to Tom Galbraith. I'm 
 thinking lic'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 Den- 
 ny-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 scram-
 
 "mARy! MARY !" 199 
 
 bling 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, anyway," 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 onward toward 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, wnth 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 difiicult 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 farther 
 and farther mountains have nothing of this mild, grand humor 
 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
 
 200 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 come five or six miles now. Suppose you liave 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 gray bowl-i 
 ders and ferns and moist marsh-grass are, and begins to gather 
 handfuls of "sourocks;" that is to say, of the smaller sheep- 
 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 gray 
 "smurr" of mist coming down the glen, and the rain is begin- 
 ning to darken the gray bowlders again. 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 Fish-mongers, 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 was substantial enough. 
 Then the question about getting back arose. 
 
 " Now, Mary," says her hostess, " you have got to pay for your 
 amusement. How will you like walking seven or eight miles in 
 a thunder-storm ?" 
 
 But here the Laird langhs. 
 
 " No, no," he says, going to the window. " That wagonette 
 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 tliis silent af- 
 ternoon, with a tlumdcr-storm 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 t])e sky. 
 
 "I said you were going to bring a gale with you, Angus," his 
 hostess remarked to him, cheerfully, at dinner.
 
 "mary! mary!" 201 
 
 " 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 
 candloS, 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 gur- 
 gling 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. Tliere 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, bright- 
 ly. "And what is all the noise on deck? And why don't you 
 come below V 
 
 " They have been paying out more anchor chain," says the 
 rough voice from out of the mackintosh ; " it is likely to be a 
 nasty night, and we are going to lower the top-mast now. I want 
 you to be so kind as to tell Fred to leave out some whiskey and 
 some bread -and- cheese ; for John thinks of having an anchor 
 watch." 
 
 " The bread-and-cheese and whiskey 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 mackintosh 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 morn- 
 ing." 
 
 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, 
 
 10
 
 202 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 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 XXVII. 
 
 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 over- 
 spread earth and sky. It was nothing to the gloom that over- 
 spread 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 any 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 was 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 strange answer comes to these idle frettings of the hour. 
 Far away on the sliorc a number of small black figures emerge 
 from the woods, and slowly pass along the winding road that
 
 AN UNSPOKEN APPEAL. 203 
 
 skirts the rocks. They are following a cart — a common farm- 
 yard 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 grays 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 pa- 
 thetic 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 farm-yard 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 host- 
 ess ; 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 be- 
 cause you -worked too hard at it at first. You should have 
 watched the Islav man. All he does is to call ' Heave !' and to
 
 204 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 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 embar- 
 rassment ; 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 main-sail and small jib quickly fill out before 
 tliis fresh breeze ; and presently, with a sudden cessation of noise, 
 we are spinning away through the leaden-colored 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 moi'e 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 toward certain silver gleams of light in the west and 
 south. There is hope in front ; behind us nothing but darkness 
 and the threaten ings of storm. The Pass of Glencoe has disap- 
 peared 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. Ancl there is less sad- 
 ness now in the old refrain of " Lochaber," since there is a pros- 
 pect of the South shining before us. If Mary Avon is singing to 
 herself about 
 
 " Locliabcr no more, and Lochaber no more — 
 We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more," 
 
 it is with a light lieart. 
 
 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 
 Ardshicl, 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 gray-green sea that the White JJovc meets and breaks, 
 with spurts of spray forward, and a line of hissing foam in our 
 wake. The zigzag 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; iheti
 
 AN UNSPOKEN APPEAL. 205 
 
 " 'Bout ship " again, avid away we go on the heaving and rushing 
 gray-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 respect- 
 fully made. But as for Mr. Smith, that is a very different mat- 
 ter. 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 monopolize 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 hap- 
 pen 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 toward 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 fear- 
 less. She looks upon going to London and earning her own liv- 
 ing 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 
 savs, warmlv. "To go sailing in the White Dove? No, not if
 
 206 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 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 r 
 
 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 liad done her some personal injury. 
 
 "And in any case, she might be more civil to a very old friend 
 of ours," she adds. 
 
 Further discourse on this matter is impossible ; for our Fried- 
 rich 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 toward him. She shows him 
 — when she is forced to speak to him — an almost pamful courte- 
 sy ; and she turns her eyes down, as if she were afraid to speak 
 to him. This is no flaunting coquette, proud of her wilful ca- 
 price. 
 
 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 Ed- 
 inburgh : if Edinburgh had but the Moldau running through that 
 valley, and the bridges of Prague to span it, what city in Europe 
 could cf^mparc with it? And the Laird is so delighted with her
 
 AN UNSPOKEN APPEAL. 207 
 
 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 be- 
 lieve in. Then the Sanctuary of Ilolyrood : what stories has he 
 not to tell about that famous refuge ? 
 
 " I believe the mysterious influence of that sanctuary has gone 
 out and charmed all the country about Eilinburgh," said our 
 young doctor. " I suppose you know that there are several 
 plants, poisonous elsewhere, that are quite harmless in the neigh- 
 borhood 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 (Encmthe 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 pom- 
 pously, " whether that does not hold good about the neighbor- 
 hood 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 atnight 
 from Princes 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 sufiicient man- 
 liness 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."
 
 208 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 "I am not a very good judge, sir," says Miss Avon, prudently. 
 
 Then on deck. The leaden-bhick waves are breaking in white 
 foam along the shores of Kingairloch and the opposite rocks of 
 Eilean-na-Shnna ; 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 Whiie 
 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 
 were 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 any- 
 where now — 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 as- 
 sured the Laird, who said he pailicularly wanted a seal-skin or 
 two ^nd some skarts' feathers for a young lady, that he should 
 not be disappointed. Knapdale, then, it was to be. 
 
 But in the mean time? Dinner found us in a dead calm. Af- 
 ter dinner, when we came on deck, the sun had gone down ; and 
 in the pale, tender, blue-gray of the twilight the golden star of 
 Lismore Light-house was already shining. Then we had our 
 warning lights put up — the port red light shedding a soft crim- 
 son glow on tlie bow of the dingy, the starboard green light 
 touching with a cold, wan color the iron shrouds. To crown all,
 
 AN UNSPOKEN APPEAL. 209 
 
 as we were watching the dark shadows of Lisniore Island, a thin, 
 wliite, vivid line, Uke the edge of a shilling, appeared over the low 
 liill ; 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 afterward that we were startled by sounds 
 on deck ; and presently we knew that the White Dove was again 
 tiying 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 Suth- 
 erland had promptly surrendered the helm to John of Skye, and 
 had gone forward. The men on the lookout 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 called out, 
 
 " Hector, do you not see any land yet ?" 
 
 " Cha neil P'' calls out Hector, in reply, 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 tlie fog ; they have not the 
 least idea whether Lismore Light-house — 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 gronp about the top 
 of the companion. They can only listen and wait. 
 
 John of Skye's voice rings out again : 
 
 10*
 
 210 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 "Hector, can you not mek out the land yet?" 
 
 ''CharCeiir 
 
 " What does he say ?" the Laird asks, ahnost 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 be- 
 tween 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, "OA no P'' 
 
 It was the trifle of a moment. 
 
 " There is not the least danger," says he, lightly. " Some- 
 times 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 roar 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 mat- 
 ters — " 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 1" 
 
 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 ?
 
 HIS LORDSHIP. 211 
 
 " Is that the land, John ?" Angus Sutherland asks, as the skip- 
 per conies aft. 
 
 " Oh ay 1" says he, with a chuckle. " I wass thinking to my- 
 self it wass the loom of Diiart 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 Lismorc Light-house 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 moon- 
 light, with the hills along the horizon all black under the clear 
 and solemn skies. 
 
 It is a pleasant sail into the smooth harbor on this enchanted 
 night : the far windows of Castle Osprey are all aglow ; the 
 mariners are to rest for awhile 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 pre- 
 pared 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 XXVIIL 
 
 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
 
 212 WHITE WINCJS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 ■witli a clieerful " 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 Low- 
 lander ; 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 re- 
 triever; 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 owcr, 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 Don- 
 ald ; and crams my pockets full. Tlicn 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
 
 HIS LORDSHIP. ' 213 
 
 out. Where could we have been on the 12th — surely there was 
 no such rain with us V 
 
 "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 
 liout 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 liigher. 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 thing, I heard a lot about 
 the MacDougalls, and how they had all their possessions confis- 
 cated in 1 745 ; 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 them- 
 selves. 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 the Dukes of 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. AVell, 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 ?"
 
 214 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 He pointed to the coast-line beyond the bay. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " We had to cUmb tliat, 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. ' Ilis lordship shot a brace and a half 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.' So on we went ; and Don- 
 ald'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 lunch- 
 eon was all he wanted. He bain't none o' your greedy ones, he 
 bain't. 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." 
 
 " Uj) there it was dreadful : not a breath of wind : the sun blis- 
 tering. 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 arc the birds?' I said. '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 tliat 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 w'aitcd for the 
 luncheon-basket." 
 
 " We were so afraid Fred would be late," she said ; " the men 
 are all so busy down at the yacht." 
 
 "What did it matter?" the Youth said, resignedly. "I was 
 being instiucted. He had got farther back still now, to the 
 I)ruids, don't you know, and the antiquity of the (Jaelic language. 
 ' What was the river that ran by Rome?' 'The Tiber,' I said. 
 'And what,' he asked, ' was Toher in Gaelic but a spring or foun- 
 tain?' And the Taniar in Devonshire was the same thing. And
 
 HIS LORDSHIP. 21 f, 
 
 the various Usks — uska, it seems, is the Gaelic for Avater. Well, 
 I'm hanged if 1 know what that man did 7iot talk about!" 
 
 "But surely such a keeper must be invaluable," remarks 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 perform- 
 ed 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 lord- 
 ship 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." 
 
 " Not 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 mean time, 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, anyway," she says. "There is to be no dress- 
 ing 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
 
 216 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 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 song 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 con- 
 scious color. 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 among 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, lie, left alone, goes over to the iron scat 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.
 
 THE laird's plans. 217 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 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 ex- 
 periences — is, ^''All aboard for DanTsr She will not have so 
 fine a sailing morning wasted, especially when Dr. Angus Suther- 
 land 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 cer- 
 tain 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, hand- 
 ing 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 de- 
 light, and went covertly smiling about his work for the next quar- 
 ter of an hour. 
 
 Then the hubbub gradually ceased ; for the boats had been 
 swung to the davits, and the White Dove was gently slipping
 
 218 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 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 gray, in 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 beard- 
 ed 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. AVhen she is close- 
 hauled, I have something to guide me ; but with the wind com- 
 ing 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 dan- 
 dier 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 her- 
 self into a book ; while the attentive Mr. Smith provides lier with 
 a sun-shade 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 Munici- 
 pal London. At length he raises his eyes, and says to his sole 
 companion, 
 
 " 1 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.
 
 THE laird's plans. 219 
 
 *' Well, it is very kind of liim to offer to turn out of his state- 
 room in favor of Dr. Sutherland ; hut 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 ap- 
 proval — entirely my approval. Ye know what I mean. I would 
 not say a word to him for the world — no, no — after the first in- 
 timation 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 in- 
 deed, 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."
 
 220 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " 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 Avill 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 tra- 
 deetions 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 be- 
 stow upon bairns. A sound constitution ; that is first and fore- 
 most. 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 does na stop netting and snar- 
 ing. AVhat 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 laughs to himself, just as if he had been telling a 
 good one about Ilomesh. 
 
 "And no muzzle-loaders," he continues, with a sudden serious- 
 ness. "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 muz- 
 zle-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 thrashes and blackbirds 
 they hav(! 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 apiece for every blackbird they shoot on the wing."
 
 THE laird's plans. 221 
 
 The Laird had got quite excited ; he did not notice that Mu- 
 nicijyal London was dangerously near tlie edge of the table. 
 
 "Andrew will not objeck to the shooting o' blackbirds," he 
 said, with a loud laugh — as if there were something of llomcsh's 
 vein in that gardener. '' The poor crayture is just daft about his 
 cherries. Tliat's another thing : no interference with bairns in a 
 garden. Let them steal what they like. Green apples? — bless 
 ye, they're tlie life o' children. Nature puts everything to rights. 
 She kens better than books. If I catched the school-master lock- 
 in' up the 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, prond, 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 ? 
 
 " ^Yhy," 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 crim- 
 soned the Laird's face? When be sat upright again, however, 
 wonder was the chief expression visible in his eyes. 
 
 " Of course I have no right to say so," she instantly and hur- 
 riedly 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 Suther- 
 land'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
 
 222 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 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, Avith reluctance : she would not ad- 
 mit 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 ay ! Now I am going on deck 
 to see where we are." 
 
 And so the Laird rose, and put the bulky volume by, and pass- 
 ed along the saloon to the companion. We heard 
 
 " ' Sing tantara ! sing tantara !' " 
 
 as his head appeared. He was in a gay humor. 
 
 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 hori- 
 zon there was a blaze of yellow light which had the odd appear- 
 ance 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, with- 
 in sight of the L'ish coast. And so we went down by Easdail, 
 and past Colipoll and its slate quarries ; and we knew this con- 
 stant breeze would drive us through the swirls of the Doruis 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 Corricvrechan ? 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 
 
 Wiicre Corricvrechan'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 when the 
 White Dove is carrying us away to the pleasanter south, when, 
 behold ! behold ! another sight ! As we open out the dreaded 
 gulf, Corricvrechan itself becomes but an open lane leading out 
 to the west; and there, beyond the gloom, amidst the golden seas, 
 lies afar the music-haunted Colonsay ! It is the calm of the af-
 
 THE laird's plans. 223 
 
 ternoon ; 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 go- 
 ing 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. 
 
 "Ay, 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 Doruis 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 toward an opening 
 in the land, and the flood-tide gently bore her into the wide, si- 
 lent, empty loch. There did not seem to be any light on the 
 shores. Like a tall gray phantom the yacht glided through the 
 gloom ; we were somewhat silent on deck. 
 
 But there was a radiant yellow glow coming through the sky- 
 light; and Master Fred has 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 I Nobody, how- 
 ever, appeared to think of these things. This was a silent and 
 lonely loch, and the gloom of night was over land and water; 
 
 11
 
 224 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTINa ROMANCE. 
 
 but we still seemed to have before our eyes the far island amidst 
 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 XXX. 
 
 A SUNDAY IN FAR SOLITUDES. 
 
 Mary Avon is seated all alone on deck, looking rather wistful- 
 ly 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 sh.ore. 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 re- 
 mote 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 genuflections, 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 peculiar- 
 ities when the strong and resonant voice — amidst the strange 
 silence of this Loch of the Burying-Place — reads out the 103d 
 Psalm : " Like as a father peetieth his children," he may say ; 
 but one does not lieed that. And who is to notice that, as he 
 comes to these words, lie lifts his eyes from the book and fixes 
 them for a moment on Mary Avon's downcast face? " Likfj as a 
 father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.
 
 A SUNDAY IN FAR SOLITUDES. 225 
 
 For he knoweth our frame ; be reraembereth tbat we are dust. 
 As for man, bis days arc as grass : as a flower of tbe field, so be 
 flourisbetb. For tbe wind passetb over it, and it is gone ; and 
 tbe place tbcreof sball know it no more. But tbe mercy of tbe 
 Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon tbom tbat fear bim, 
 and bis rigbteousness unto cbildren's cbildren." Tiien, when be 
 bad finisbed tbe Psalm, be turned to tbe New Testament, and 
 read in tbe same slow and reverent manner tbe sixtb cbapter of 
 Mattbew. This concluded the service ; it was not an elabo- 
 rate one. 
 
 Then, about an hour afterward, the Laird, on being appealed 
 to by bis hostess, gave it as bis opinion tbat there would be no 
 Sabbath desecration at all in our going ashore to examine tbe 
 ruins of what appeared to be an ancient chapel, which we could 
 make out by tbe aid of our glasses on tbe green slope above the 
 rocks. And as our young friends — Angus and tbe Youth — idly 
 paddled us away from the yacht, tbe Laird began to apologize to 
 bis hostess for not having lengthened the service by the exposi- 
 tion of some chosen text. 
 
 "Ye see, ma'am," he observed, " some are gifted in tbat way, 
 and some not. My father, now, had an amazing power of ex- 
 pounding and explaining — I am sure there was nothing in Hutch- 
 esoii's Exposeetion be bad not in his memory. A very famous 
 man be 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 bim, sir?" asks bis hostess, with some 
 vague notion tbat the Laird's father had lived in tbe 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 w^e 
 are more tolerant, and rightly so : I do not care whether the min- 
 ister 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 tbat the eiBcacy 
 of the sacraments depends not ' upon any virtue in them or in 
 bim that doth administer them.' Ay; that is the cardinal truth. 
 But in those days they considered it right to guard against Po- 
 pery in every manner; and my father was a prominent Anti- 
 Lifter ; and well would be argue and expound on that and most
 
 226 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 other doctrinal subjects. But I liave 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 nowadays, when we have millions of churches built, and mill- 
 ions 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; wliile the people who listen to them are 
 all in a fog. Simon Peter, and Andrew, and the sons of Zcbedee 
 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 wheth- 
 er to recognize 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 neph- 
 ew startled us. That handsome lad, during all this theological 
 discussion, had been keeping a vkfatchful 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 recognized them. 
 
 " Look ! look !" he said, in tones of mingled eagerness and dis- 
 appointment. " 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 contempla- 
 tion as we left the shore, and .scrambled up the rugged and rock}^ 
 slope to the ruins of this solitary little chapel. 
 
 There was an air of repose and silence about these crumbling
 
 A SUNDAY IX FAR SOLITUDES. 227 
 
 walls and rusted gates that was in consonance with a habitation 
 of the dead. And first of all, outside, we came upon an upright 
 lona- 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 relig- 
 ious emblem ? And why was the efiigy 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 with- 
 in 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 colonization 
 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 re- 
 mains; 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
 
 228 WHITE ■\VINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 saints has not been shed in vain. The cry of the dying and 
 wounded on many a Lanarkshire moor — when the cavah'y 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 liave 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 humor 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 Maiy. 
 
 "I tell ye what," said he, solemnly; "I am told on good au- 
 thority that there is a movement among the U. P. Presbytery to 
 send up to the Synod a sort of memorial with regard to the Sub- 
 ordinate Standards — that is, ye know, the Westminster Confes- 
 sion of Faith and the Larger and Shorter Catechisms — just hint- 
 ing, in a mild sort of way, that these arc 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 judeecions liberality of construction — do ye see? 
 — on certain jjoints is adniissiide, while clearly defining other 
 points on which the Church will not admit of question. How- 
 ever, as I was saying, we have little fear of Popery in the Presby- 
 terian Church now ; and ye would have no need to fear it in your 
 English Church if the English people were not so sorely wanting
 
 A SUNDAY IN FAR SOLITUDES. 229 
 
 in humor. If tliey had any sense of fun, they would have laugh- 
 ed 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 Eng- 
 lish 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 humor 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 Ho- 
 mesh — 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 Avas 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 stoiy 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 Episco- 
 pal Church. 
 
 " We have none in the neighborhood of Strathgovan," he re- 
 marked, 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 looking 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 sur- 
 prise, as we drew nearer and nearer to what we supposed to be 
 an uninhabited island, to find the top-mast 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 ly- 
 ing 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 ex- 
 jflained, in more or less imperfect English, that they were lobster- 
 fishers, and that this was a convenient haven for their smack, 
 
 11*
 
 230 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 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 liv^e lob- 
 sters, and if young Smith also took a quiet opportunity of inquir- 
 ing about the favorite 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 civilization on the island ; the wither- 
 ed stumps of a blackthorn hedge, and the abundant nettle. A 
 big rat ran out, the only visible tenant of the cruml)led habitation. 
 
 Meanwhile the others had climbed to the summit of the cen- 
 tral 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 sat and regarded this 
 splendid hunting ground with a breathless interest. 
 
 " Fm thinking ye ought to get your seal-skin 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 
 arc such gentle creatures !" 
 
 "But young men will be young men, ye know," said he, cheer- 
 fully. " When I was Howard's age, and knew I had a gun with- 
 in 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 wc 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
 
 HIDDEN SPRINGS. 231 
 
 back in the calm, pale twiliglit. Those wild-duck would go whir- 
 ring by within easy shot, apparently making away to the solitudes 
 of Loch Swen, Then that grayish-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 iloundered down and into the water. The splash eclioed 
 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 lin- 
 gering 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 gray 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 XXX L 
 
 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
 
 232 VTHiTE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 a great future before liim, and a wife would really be an encum- 
 brance. Young professional men should never marry ; their cir- 
 cumstances keep on improving, but they can't improve their 
 wives." 
 
 All this is very clear and sensible. It is not always this per- 
 son 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. 
 It is only a suspicion that there is a touch of coldness in the el- 
 der woman's manner? Is it possible that our 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 loakes his appearance ; he lias been 
 ashore too. And his complaints aijd 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? Yon saw all
 
 HIDDEN SPRINGS. 233 
 
 those golden plover yesterday, and the wild-duclc farther up tlie 
 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 ! 1 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 picnic by the 
 side of the Saints' Well — down in the hollow, you know." 
 
 " Much chance I shall have with the seals, then !" remarked the 
 other young man, good-naturedly enough. 
 
 However, it is enough that the suggestion has come from An- 
 gus Sutherland. A picnic on the Island of the Saints is forth- 
 with 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 Ilomesh 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.
 
 234 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 " No ; but I mean long before Sunday. However," be says, 
 cbeerfully, and looking at ber, " tbere is a wonderful cbange in 
 ye — wonderful ! Well do I mind tbe day I first saw ye, on tbe 
 quay ; tbougb it seems a long time since tben. Ye were a poor 
 wbite bit tbing tben ; I was astonisbed ; and tbe next day too, 
 vvben ye were lame as well, I said to myself, ' Well, it's bigb time 
 tbat bit lass had a breatb o' tbe sea air.' And now — wby, ye 
 just mind me o' tbe lasses in tbe Scotcb songs — tbe country lasses, 
 ye know — with tbe fine color on your face." 
 
 And indeed tbis public statement did not tend to decrease tbe 
 sun-brown tbat now tinged Maiy Avon's cbeeks. 
 
 " Tbese lads," said be — no doubt referring to bis nepbew and 
 to Angus Sutberland, wbo were botb laboring at tbe long oars — 
 " are mucb too attentive to ye, putting ye under tbe sbadow of 
 tbe sails, and bringing ye in parasols, and tbings like that. No, 
 no ; don't you be afraid of getting sunburnt ; it is a comely 
 and wholesome tbing : is it not reasonable that human beings 
 need tbe sunlight as mucb as plants ? Just ask your friend Dr. 
 Sutherland tbat; tbougb a man can guess as mucb without a 
 microscope. Keep ye in tbe sun. Miss Mary ; never mind the 
 brown on your cbeeks, 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 tbat afternoon." 
 
 Miss Avon bad not been in the habit of receiving lectures like 
 this about ber complexion, and sbe seemed rather confused ; but 
 fortunately tbe measured noise of the rowlocks prevented tbe 
 younger men from overbearing. 
 
 " ' Tlicre was Mary Reaton, and Mary Scaton, 
 And Mary Avon, and nio,' " 
 
 continued tbe Laird, in his facetious way ; and he contentedly 
 patted tbe hand of the girl beside him. "I fear I am growing 
 very fond of idleness." 
 
 " I am sure, sir, you arc so busy during tbe rest of tbe year," 
 says tbis base flatterer, " that you should be able to enjoy a holi- 
 day with a clear conscience." 
 
 " Well, perhaps so — perhaps so," said tbe Laird, wbo was great- 
 ly pleased, "And yet, let one work as bard as one can, it is sin- 
 gular how little one can do, and what little thanks ye get for do- 
 ing it. I am sure those people in Stratbgovan spend half their
 
 HIDDEN SPRINGS. 235 
 
 lives ill fault-finding, and expect ye to do everything they can 
 think of without asking them for a farthing. At the last meet- 
 ing of the rate-payers 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 V Fm think- 
 ing," 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 meas- 
 ure, 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 talk- 
 ing. " I have been asking myself once or twice whether I knew 
 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. AVhen 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 am 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 — raany's and many's the time I have taken Tom
 
 236 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 Galbraith to the hill, and aslced him whether they have finer sun- 
 sets 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 bluebells 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 won- 
 derful 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 w\iys 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 I\Ioth- 
 erwell'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, luiml yo, hive, how aft we left 
 The deavin', dinsomc toun, 
 To wander by the green burn-side, 
 
 And hear its waters croon ? 
 The simmer leaves Inmg ower our heads, 
 
 Tlic flowers burst round our feet ; 
 And in the gloamin' o' the wood 
 The throssil whusslit sweet. 
 ****** 
 
 "'And on the knowc almiie the burn 
 For liours tliegither sat 
 In tlie silentness o' joy, till baith 
 Wi' very gladness grat.
 
 HIDDEN SPRINGS. 237 
 
 Ay, ay, dear Jeanie Morrison, 
 
 Tears triukled doun your cheek, 
 Like dew-beads on a rose ; yet nane 
 
 Had ony power to speak.' " 
 
 The Laird's voice faltered for a moment ; but lie pretended he 
 had great difficulty in remembering the poem, and confessed that 
 he must have mixed up the verses. However, he said he remem- 
 bered the last one. 
 
 " ' dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, 
 
 Since we were sundered young 
 I've never seen your face, uor 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 
 
 0' by-gane 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 handker- 
 chief 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 yes- 
 terday. 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 — admit- 
 ted 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 i.sland before venturing to make across 
 for it ; and when at length we did put the bow straight for the 
 little harbor, 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 pertina- 
 cious steering we managed to run into the little bay. 
 
 We found it quite deserted. The two lobster-fishers had left 
 in the morning ; w'e were in sole possession of this lonely island, 
 set amidst the still summer seas. 
 
 But by this time it was nearly noon ; and so it was arranged
 
 238 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 that the men of the party should content themselves with a pre- 
 liminary 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 
 afterward 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 witli you?" said her kind friend, pretend- 
 ing 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 sat 
 down beside her, and took lier hand in hers. 
 
 "Don't be offended, Mary," she said, good - naturedly. "I 
 liave 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, inquir- 
 ing ghmcc ; and then said, as if she were almost afraid to hear 
 herself speak, 
 
 " Has he spoken to you ?" 
 
 "Yes. Now don't make a molehill into a mountain, Mary. 
 If he has offended you, tell him. l>e frank with liim. He 
 would not vex you for the world : do you think ho would?" 
 
 The girl's hand was beginning to tremble a good deal ; and 
 lier face was white, and piteous.
 
 A CONFESSION. 239 
 
 " If you only knew him as well as I do, you would know lie is 
 as gentle as a child : he would not offend any one. Now you 
 will be friends with him again, Mary V 
 
 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 : 
 lier 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 color-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, w-hen 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. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A CONFESSION. 
 
 What could the solitary scouts, coming back from the various 
 points of the island, know of this quick, unwilling cry of pain, 
 and of the forced calm that followed it? They had their own 
 sorrows. There was a gloom upon their faces. One and all bore 
 the same story — not a seal, not a wild-duck, not even a rock- 
 pigeon, anywhere.
 
 240 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 "But it is a fine thing to be able to straighten one's back," 
 says the Laird, who always seizes on the cheerful side; "and we 
 have not given up hope of your getting the seal-shin yet, Miss 
 Mary — no, no. The doctor says they are away hunting just now; 
 when the tide gets low again they will come up on the rocks. 
 So the best thing we can do is to spend plenty of time over our 
 luncheon, and cross the island again in the afternoon. Ay ; be- 
 gun already ?" adds the Laird, as he goes up to the canvas, and 
 regards the rough outlines in charcoal with a critical air. " Very 
 good! very good!" he says, following the lines with his thumb, 
 and apparently drawing in the air. " Excellent ! The compo- 
 seetion very clever indeed — simple, bold, striking. And a fine 
 blaze of color ye'll have on a day like this ; and then the heavy 
 black hull of the smack bang in the foreground: excellent! ex- 
 cellent ! But if I were you, I would leave out that rock there ; 
 ye would get a better sweep of the sea. Don't distract the eye 
 in sea-pieces; bold lines — firm, sound color, and there ye are. 
 Well, my lass, ye have the skill of constructing a picture. Tom 
 Galbraith himself would admit that, I know — " 
 
 But here the Laird is called away by his hostess. 
 
 " I would advise you, sir," says she, " to have some luncheon 
 while you can get it. It is a very strange thing, with all you 
 gentlemen on board, and with all those guns laying about, but we 
 are drawing nearer and nearer to starvation. I wish you would 
 give up hunting seals, and shoot something useful." 
 
 Here our young doctor appears with certain bottles that have 
 been cooling in the water. 
 
 " There must be plenty of rock-pigeons in the caves we passed 
 this morning, on the other island," he says. 
 
 "Oh, not those beautiful birds !" says she of the empty larder. 
 "We cannot have llurlingham transported to the Highlands." 
 
 "Whoever tries to shoot those pigeons won't find it a llurling- 
 ham business," he remarks. 
 
 But the Laird has a soul above luncheons, and larders, and 
 pigeon-shooting. lie is still profoundly absorbed in thought. 
 
 "No," he says, at length, to the young lady who, as usual, is 
 by his side, " I am wrong." 
 
 She looks up at him with some surprise. 
 
 " Yes, I am wrong," he says, decisively. " Ye must keep in 
 that island. Ye must sacrifice picturesqucness to truth. Never
 
 A CONFESSION. 241 
 
 mind the picture : keep the faithful record. In after-life ye will 
 be able to get plenty of pictures ; but ye may not be able to get 
 an exact record of the things ye saw when ye were sailing with 
 the White Dover 
 
 " Well, you know, sir," observes Miss Avon, with a somewhat 
 embarrassed smile, " you don't give me much encouragement. 
 You always speak as if I were to be compelled to keep those 
 sketches. Am I to find nobody silly enough to buy them ?" 
 
 Now, somehow or other, of late the Laird has been more and 
 more inclined to treat this sale of Mary x\von's pictures as a most 
 irresistible joke. He laughs and chuckles at the mere mention 
 of such a thing, just as if Homesh were somewhere about. 
 
 " Sell them !" he says, with another deep chuckle. " Ye will 
 never sell them. Ye could not have the heart to part with 
 them." 
 
 "The heart has to be kept in proper subjection," says she, 
 lightly, " when one has to earn one's living." 
 
 Queen Titania glances quickly at the girl ; but apparently 
 there is no profound meaning concealed in this speech. Miss 
 Avon has taken her seat on a shelving piece of gray rock ; and if 
 she is concerned about anything, it is about the safety of certain 
 plates and knives, and such things. Her hand is quite steady as 
 she holds out her tumbler for the Youth to pour some water into 
 the claret. 
 
 Luncheon over, she returns to her work ; and the band of seal- 
 hunters, taking to cigars and pipes, sit and watch the tide slowly 
 ebb away from the golden-brown sea-weed. Then, with many a 
 caution as to patience and silence, they rise and get their guns, 
 and set out. Already there is a disposition to slouch the head 
 and walk timidly, though as yet there is no need of any pre- 
 caution. 
 
 " GliichUche Reiser says Miss Avon, pleasantly, as we pass. 
 
 Angus Sutherland starts, and turns his head. But the saluta- 
 tion was not for him ; it was meant for the Youth, who is un- 
 derstood to be the most eager of the seal -hunters. And Mr. 
 Smith, not having his answer pat, replies, " I hope so," and then 
 looks rather confused as he passes on, carefully stooping his head, 
 though there is no occasion whatever. 
 
 Then, by following deep gullies and crawling over open ledges, 
 we reach points commanding the various bays ; and with the ut-
 
 242 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 most caution peer over or round the rocks. And whereas yes- 
 terday, being Sunday, the bays were alive with seals, disporting 
 themselves freely in full view of a large party of people who were 
 staring at them, to-day, being Monday, finds not a seal visible 
 anywhere, though every one is in hiding, and absolute silence 
 must have reigned in the island since ever the lobster-fishers left 
 in the morning. No matter; the tide is still ebbing; the true 
 hunter must possess his soul. 
 
 And yet this lying prone for hours on a ledge of exceedingly 
 rough rock must have been monotonous work for our good 
 friend the Laird. Under his nose, nothing to look at but scraps 
 of orange lichen and the stray feathers of sea-birds ; abroad, noth- 
 ing but the glassy blue sea, with the pale mountains of Jura ris- 
 ing into the cloudless sky. At last it seemed to become intol- 
 erable. We could see him undergoing all sorts of contortions in 
 the effort to wrest something out of his coat pocket without rais- 
 ing any portion of his body above the line of cover. He himself 
 was not unlike a gray seal in the shadow of the rock, especially 
 when he twisted and turned himself about without rising an inch 
 from the surface. And in time he succeeded. We could see 
 him slowly and carefully unfold that newspaper — probably not 
 more than a week old — just beneath his face. He had no need 
 of spectacles : his eyes were almost touching the page. And then 
 we knew that he w^as at rest, and the hard rock and the seals all 
 forgotten. For we took it that this local paper was one which had 
 written a most important leading article about the proposed pub- 
 lic park for Strathgovan, calling upon the rate-payers to arise and 
 assert their rights, and put a check on the reckless extravagance 
 of the Commissioners. The Laird himself was openly pointed 
 at as one who would introduce the luxury of the later Romans 
 into a sober Scotch community ; and there were obscure refer- 
 ences to those who seemed to consider that a man's dwelling- 
 house should become nothing more nor less than a museum of 
 pictures and statues, while they would apply taxes raised from 
 a hard-working population in the aduriHuent of places of recrea- 
 tion for the idle. But do you think that the Laird was appalled 
 by this fierce onslaught ? Not a bit of it. He had read and re- 
 read it to us with delight. He had triumphantly refuted the 
 writer's sophistries; lie had exposed his ignorance of the most 
 elementary facts in political economy ; he was always rejoiced
 
 A CONFESSION. 243 
 
 to appear before Tom Galbraitli and Mary Avon as one who was 
 not afraid to suffer for his cbampionsliip of art. And then, when 
 he had triumphed over his enemy, he would fold the paper with 
 a sort of contented sigh, and would say, with a compassionate 
 air, " Poor crayture ! — poor crayturc !" as if the poor crayturc 
 could not be expected to know any better. 
 
 At last — at last ! The Laird makes frantic gestures with his 
 newspaper — all the more frantic that they have to be strictly lat- 
 eral, and that he dare not raise his hand. And behold ! far away 
 out there on the still blue surface a smooth round knob, shining 
 and black. AVithout a muscle moving, eager eyes follow that 
 distant object. The seal is not alarmed or suspicious ; he sails 
 evenly onward, seldom looking to right or left. And when he 
 disappears there is no splash; he has had enough of breathing; 
 he is off for his hunting in the deep seas. 
 
 What is more, he remains there. We catch no further trace 
 of him, nor of any other living thing around those deserted bays. 
 Human nature gives in. The Youth gets up and boldly displays 
 himself on a promontory, his gun over his shoulder. Then the 
 Laird, seeing that everything is over, gets up too, yawning dread- 
 fully, and folds his newspaper and puts it in his pocket. 
 
 " Come along !" he calls out. " It is no use. The saints have 
 taught the seals tricks. They know better than to come near on 
 a working-day." 
 
 And so presently the sombre party sets out again for the other 
 side of the island, where the gig awaits us. Not a word is said. 
 Cartridges arc taken out ; we pick our way through the long 
 grass and the stones. And when it is found that Miss Avon has 
 roughed in all that she requires of her present study, it is gloomi- 
 ly suggested that we might go back by way of the other island, 
 that so haply we might secure the materials for a pigeon-pie be- 
 fore returning to the yacht. 
 
 The evening sun was shining ruddily along the face of the 
 cliffs as we drew near the other island; and there was no sign of 
 life at all about the lonely shores and the tall caves. But there 
 was another story to tell when, the various guns having been 
 posted, the Youth boldly walked up to the mouth of the largest 
 of the caves, and shouted. Presently there were certain flashes 
 of blue things in the mellow evening light; and the sharp bang! 
 bang ! of the gun, that echoed into the great hollows. Hurling-
 
 244 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 liam? That did not seem much of a Hurlingham performance. 
 There were no birds standing bewildered on the fallen trap, won- 
 dering whether to rise or not ; but there were things coming 
 whizzing through the air that resembled nothing so much as 
 rifle-bullets with blue wings. The Youth, it is true, got one or 
 two easy shots at the mouth of the cave ; but when the pigeons 
 got outside, and came flashing over the heads of the others, the 
 shooting was, on the whole, a hap-hazard business. Nevertheless, 
 we got a fair number for Master Fred's larder, after two of the 
 men had acted as retrievers for three-quarters of an hour among 
 the rocks and bushes. Then away again for the solitary vessel 
 lying in the silent loch, with the pale mists stealing over the 
 land, and the red sun sinking behind the Jura hills. 
 
 Again, after dinner, amidst the ghostly grays of the twilight, 
 we went forth on another commissariat excursion, to capture fish. 
 Strange to say, however, our doctor, though he was learned on 
 the subject of flies and tackle, preferred to remain on board : he 
 had some manuscript to send off to London. And his hostess 
 said she would remain too ; she always has plenty to do about 
 the saloon. Then we left the White Dove, and rowed away to 
 the rocks. 
 
 But the following conversation, as we afterward heard, took 
 place in our absence : 
 
 " I wished very much to speak to you," said Angus Sutherland 
 to his hostess, without making any movement to bring out his desk. 
 
 "I thought so," said she, not without a little nervous appre- 
 hension. 
 
 And then she said, quickly, before he could begin : 
 
 " Let me tell you at once, Angus, tliat I have spoken to Mary. 
 Of course I don't wish to interfere ; I wouldn't interfere for the 
 world ; but — but I only asked her, lest there should be any un- 
 pleasant misapprehension, whether she had any reason to be of- 
 fended with you. ' None in the least,' she said. She was most 
 positive. She even seemed to be deei)ly pained by the misun- 
 derstanding, and — and wished me to let you know ; so you must 
 dismiss that from your mind, anyway." 
 
 lie listened thoughtfully, without saying anything. At last 
 he said : 
 
 "I have determined to be quite frank with you. I am going 
 to tell you a secret — if it is a secret."
 
 A CONFESSION. '245 
 
 " I have guessed it," she said, quickly, to spare him pain. 
 
 "I thought so," he said, quite quietly. "Well, I am not 
 ashamed of it. I have no reason to be ashamed of it. But 
 since you know, you will see that it would be very embarrassing 
 for me to remain longer on board the yacht if — if there was no 
 hope." 
 
 He turned over the leaves of a guide-book rapidly, without 
 looking at them ; the hard - headed doctor had not much com- 
 mand over himself at this moment. 
 
 " If you have guessed, why not she ?" he said, in a somewhat 
 hurried and anxious manner. "And — and if I am to go, better 
 that I should know at once. I — I have nothing to complain of 
 — I mean I have nothing to reproach her with ; if it is a misfort- 
 une, it is a misfortune ; but — but she used to be more friendly 
 toward me." 
 
 These two were silent. What was passing before their minds? 
 The long summer evenings in the far northern seas, with the 
 glory dying in the west ; or the moonlight walks on the white 
 deck, with the red star of Ushinish Light-house burning in the 
 south ; or the snug saloon below, with its cards, and candles, and 
 laughter, and Mary Avon singing to herself the song of Ulva? 
 She sung no song of Ulva now. 
 
 " Mary and I are very intimate friends," says the other, de- 
 liberately. " I will say nothing against her. Girls have curi- 
 ous fancies about such things sometimes. But I must admit — 
 for you are my friend too — that I am not surprised you should 
 have been encouraged by her manner to you at one time, or that 
 you should wonder a little at the change." 
 
 But even this mild possibility of Mary Avon's being in the 
 wrong she feels to be incompatible with her customary cham- 
 pionship of her friend ; and so she instantly says : 
 
 "Mind, I am certain of this — that whatever Mary does, she 
 believes to be right. Her notion of duty is extraordinarily sen- 
 sitive and firm. Once she has put anything before her as the 
 proper thing to be done, she goes straight at it, and nothing will 
 turn her aside. And although there is something about it I can't 
 quite understand, how am I to interfere ? Interference never does 
 any good. Why do not you ask her yourself ?" 
 
 "I mean to do so, when I get the chance," said he, simply. 
 " I merely wished to tell you that if her answer is ' No,' it will 
 
 12
 
 246 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 be better for me to leave you. Already I fancy my being on 
 board the yaclit is a trouble to her. I will not be a trouble to 
 her. I can go. If it is a misfortune, there is no one to blame." 
 
 "But if she says 'J^ies/'" cried his friend; and there was a 
 wonderful joy in her eyes, and in her excess of sympathy she 
 caught his hand for a moment. " Oh, Angus, if Mary were to 
 Dromise to be your wife ! What a trip we should have then — 
 we should take the White Dove to Stornoway !" 
 
 That was her ultimate notion of human happiness — sailing the 
 White Dove up to Stornoway. 
 
 " I don't think there is much hope," said he, rather absently, 
 " from her manner of late. But anything is better than sus- 
 pense. If it is a misfortune, as I say, there is no one to blame. 
 I had not the least notion that she knew Mr, Howard Smith in 
 London." 
 
 " Nor did she." 
 
 He stared rather. 
 
 " They may have met at our house, but certainly not more 
 than once. You see, living in a country house, we have to have 
 our friends down in a staccato fashion, and always by arrange- 
 ment of a few at a time. There is no general dropping in to 
 afternoon-tea." 
 
 " He never met her in London ?" he repeated. 
 
 "I should think not." 
 
 " His uncle, the* : did she never see hira before ?" 
 
 *' Certainly not." 
 
 "Then what does he mean by treating her as a sort of familiar 
 friend who was likely to turn up at any time at Denny-mains?" 
 
 His companion colored somewhat; for she had no right to be- 
 tray confidences. 
 
 " The Laird is very fond of Mary," she said, evasively. " It is 
 quite beautiful to see those two together." 
 
 He sat for a little time in silence, and then begged to be ex- 
 cused — he would go on deck to smoke. But when, some little 
 time thereafter, we returned from onr brief fishing, the dark fig- 
 ure walking up and down the deck was not smoking at all. He 
 paused as the gig was hauled fast to the gangway. 
 
 " What luck ?" 
 
 " About two dozen." 
 
 "All lithe?"
 
 ONLY A HEADACHE. 247 
 
 " About half a dozen mackerel." 
 
 And then he assisted Mary Avon to ascend tlie small wooden 
 steps. She said " Thank you !" as she withdrew her hand from 
 his ; but the words were uttered in a low voice ; and she instant- 
 ly crossed to the companion and went below. He stayed on 
 deck, and helped to swing the gig up to the davits. 
 
 Now something had got into the head of our Adrairal-in-chief 
 that night. She was very merry, and very affectionate toward 
 Mary. She made light of her foolish wish to go away to the 
 South. She pointed out that this continuous fine weather was 
 only hoarding up electricity for the equinoctials ; and then we 
 should have a spin ! 
 
 " We are not going to let you go, Mary ; that is the long and 
 the short of it. And we are going to keep hold of Angus too. 
 He is not going away yet — no, no : we have something for him 
 to do. Vie shall not rest satisfied until we see him sail the White 
 Dove into Stornoway Harbor." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXHI. 
 
 ONLY A HEADACHE. 
 
 Stornoway Harbor, indeed ! The weather was laughing at 
 us. The glass had steadily fallen, until it had got about as low 
 as it could go with decency ; and yet this next morning was more 
 beautiful, and bright, and calm than ever. Were we to be for- 
 ever confined in this remote Loch of the Burying-Place? 
 
 " Angus ! Angus ! where are you ?" the Admiral calls out, as 
 she comes up on deck. 
 
 " Here I am," calls out a voice, in return, from the cross-trees. 
 
 She raises her head, and perceives the ruddy-faced doctor hang- 
 ing on by the ratlines. 
 
 "Where is the fine sailing weather you were to bring us — 
 eh ?" 
 
 " I have been looking for it," he replies, as he comes down the 
 rigging, " and there is not a breath anywhere." 
 
 " Very well," she says, promptly ; " I'll tell you what you must 
 do. You must get everybody who can handle a gun into the gig, 
 and go away up to the head of the loch there, and shoot every
 
 248 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 living tiling you can see. Do yon understand? We are on the 
 brink of starvation! We are perishing! Do you want us to 
 boil tarred rope into soup ?" 
 
 " No," he says, humbly. 
 
 " Very well. Away you go. If you can't bring us any wind 
 to take us into a civilized place, you must provide us with food. 
 Is that clear enongli ?" 
 
 Here Captain John comes aft, touching his cap. 
 
 "Good -morning, mem. I was never seeing the like of this 
 weather, mem." 
 
 " I don't want to see any more of it," she says, sharply. " Did 
 you bring us in here because there was a convenient place to bury 
 us in ? Do you know that we are dying of starvation ?" 
 
 " Oh no, mem !" says Captain John, with a grin, but looking 
 rather concerned all the same. 
 
 However, her attention is quickly called away by the sound of 
 oars. She turns and regards this small boat approaching the 
 yacht ; and the more she looks, the more do her eyes fill with 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Well, I declare !" she says. " This is about the coolest 
 thing I have seen for ages." 
 
 For it is Miss Mary Avon who is rowing the dingey back to 
 the yacht; and her only companion is the Youth, who is con- 
 tentedly seated in the stern with his gun laid across his knees. 
 
 "Good-morning, Mr. Smith," she says, with the most gracious 
 sarcasm. " Pray don't exert yourself too much. Severe exercise 
 before breakfast is very dangerous." 
 
 The Youth lays hold of the rope; there is a fine blush on his 
 handsome face. 
 
 " It is Miss Avon's fault," he says ; " she would not let me 
 row." 
 
 " I suppose she expected you to shoot. Where are the duck, 
 and the snipe, and the golden plover? Hand them up !" 
 
 " If you want to see anything in the shape of game about this 
 coast, you'd better wait till next Sunday," says he, somewhat 
 gloomily. 
 
 However, after breakfast, we set out for the shallow head of 
 the loch ; and things do not turn out so badly after all. For we 
 have only left the yacht some few minutes when there is a sud- 
 den whirrintr of win^rs — a call of " Duck ! duck !" — and the doc-
 
 ONLY A HEADACUE. 249 
 
 tor, who is at the bow, and who is the only one who is ready, 
 fires a snap-shot at the birds. Much to everybody's amaze- 
 ment, one drops, and instantly dives. Then begins an exciting 
 chase. The biorlinn is sent careering with a vengeance; the 
 men strain every muscle ; and then another cry directs atten- 
 tion to the point at which the duck has reappeared. It is but 
 for a second. Though he cannot fly, he can swim like a fish ; 
 and from time to time, as the hard pulling enables us to overtake 
 him, we can see him shooting this way or that through the clear 
 water. Then he bobs his head up, some thirty or forty yards 
 off; and there is another snap-shot — the charge rattling on the 
 water tlie fifth part of an instant after he disappears, 
 
 "Dear me!" says the Laird; "that bird will cost us ten shil- 
 lings in cartridges 1" 
 
 But at last he is bagged. A chance shot happens to catch him 
 before he dives ; he is stretched on the water, with his black 
 webbed feet in the air; and a swoop of Captain John's arm 
 brings him dripping into the gig. And then our natural history 
 is put to the test. This is no gay-pluraaged sheldrake, or blue- 
 necked mallard, or saw-toothed merganser. It is a broad-billed 
 duck, of a sooty black-and-gray ; we begin to regret our expendi- 
 ture of cartridges : experiments on the flavor of unknown sea- 
 birds are rarely satisfactory. But Captain John's voice is au- 
 thoritative and definite. " It is a fine bird," he says. And Mas- 
 ter Fred has already marked him for his own. 
 
 Then among the shallows at the head of the loch there is many 
 a wild pull after broods of flappers, and random firing at the cir- 
 cling curlew. The air is filled with the calling of the birds ; and 
 each successive shot rattles away with its echo among the silent 
 hills. What is the result of all this noise and scramble? Not 
 much, indeed ; for right in the middle of it we are attracted by 
 a strange appearance in the south. That dark line beyond the 
 yacht : is it a breeze coming up the loch ? Instantly the chase 
 after mergansers ceases ; cartridges are taken out ; the two or 
 three birds we have got are put out of the way ; and the Laird, 
 taking the tiller-ropes, sits proud and erect. Away go the four 
 oars with the precision of machinery ; and the long sweep sends 
 the gig ahead at a swinging pace. Behold ! behold ! the dark 
 blue on the water widening ! Is it a race between the wind and 
 the gig as to which will reach the White Dove first?
 
 250 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 " Give me your oar, Fred," says the doctor, who is at the bow. 
 
 There is but a momentary pause. Again the shapely boat 
 swings along ; and with the measured beat of the oars comes the 
 old familiar chorus : 
 
 " Cheerily, and all together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 A long, strong pull together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 Soon the flowing breeze will blow ; 
 We'll show the snowy canvas on her — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 A long, strong pull together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 Wafted by the breeze of morn. 
 We'll quaff the joyous horn together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 A long, strong pull together — 
 
 Ho, ro, clansmen !" 
 
 *' We'll beat ! we'll beat !" cries the Laird, in great delight. 
 " Give it her, boys ! Not one half-penny-worth o' that wind 
 will we lose !" 
 
 The bow cleaves the blue water; the foam hisses away from 
 her rudder. It is a race of the North against the South. Then 
 the chorus again — 
 
 " Ho, ro, clansmen ! 
 A long, strong pull together — 
 Ho, ro, clansmen !" 
 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! As the gig is run along-side, and guns and 
 birds lianded up, that spreading blue has not quite reached the 
 yacht; there is no appreciable stir of the lazy ensign. But 
 there is little time to be lost. The amateurs swing the gig to 
 the davits, while the men are getting in the slack of the anchor 
 chain ; the women are incontinently bundled below, to be out of 
 the way of flapping sheets. Then, all hands at the halyards ! 
 And by the time the great White Wings are beginning to 
 spread, the breeze stirs the still air around us; and the peak 
 sways gently this way and that ; and they who are hard at work 
 at the windlass arc no doubt grateful for this cool blowing from 
 the south. Then there is a cessation of noise ; we become 
 vaguely aware that we are moving. At last the White Dove has 
 spread her wings ; her head" is turned toward the south. Good-
 
 ONLY A HEADACHE. 251 
 
 bye, you lonely loch, with the silent shores and the silent tombs 
 — a hundred farewells to you, wherever we may be going ! 
 
 And slowly we beat down the loch, against this light southerly 
 breeze. But as we get farther and farther into the open, surely 
 there is something in the air and in the appearance of the south- 
 ern sky that suggests that the glass has not been falling for noth- 
 ing. The sea is smooth ; but there is a strange gloom ahead of 
 us ; and beyond the islands that we visited yesterday nothing is 
 visible but a wan and sultry glare. Then, afar, we can hear a 
 noise as of the approach of some storm ; but perhaps it is only 
 *he low sound of the swirling of the tides round the shores. 
 Presently another sound attracts attention — a murmured hissing, 
 and it comes nearer and nearer ; dark spots, about the size of a 
 threepenny-piece, appear on the white decks. The women have 
 scarcely time to send below for their sun-shades when the slight 
 shower passes by — the decks are not even left damp. Then far- 
 ther and farther we creep away toward the south ; but where we 
 expected to catch some far glimpse of the Irish coast — the blue 
 line of Rathlin or the Antrim cliffs — there is only that dim, sul- 
 try haze. 
 
 Then another sound — a dnW flop! flop ! — in the distance ; and 
 the stragglers who have remained below after luncheon are hasti- 
 ly summoned on deck. And there, far away in the haze, we can 
 dimly descry the successive curved forms of a school of dolphins, 
 racing each other, and springing twenty or thirty feet in the air 
 before they come down with that heavy thud on the water. 
 Those of us who have watched the beautiful lithe fish racing and 
 chasing by the side of an Atlantic vessel, would fain have been 
 somewhat nearer ; but we can only see the dim forms springing 
 into the haze. Then the dull pistol-shots in the south slowly 
 cease, and we are left alone on the low murmuring sea. 
 
 " But where is Miss Mary ?" says the Laird, suddenly becom- 
 ing aware of the absence of his chief companion. 
 
 "Oh, she is in the saloon," says his hostess, quickly and anx- 
 iously. " She is doing something to one of her water-colors. I 
 suppose we must not disturb her." 
 
 " No, no ; certainly not," returns the Laird, lightly. And then he 
 adds, with a smile which is meant to be very significant, " there 
 is never any harm in hard work. Let her go on ; she will have 
 a fine collection of sketches before she leaves the White Dove^ 
 
 12*
 
 252 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 But our Queen Tita does not respond to that careless joke. 
 There is a curious, constrained look on her face ; and she quite 
 peremptorily negatives a suggestion of the Youth that he should 
 go below for the draught-board. Then one of us perceives that 
 Angus Sutherland is not on deck. 
 
 Has the opportunity come at last, then, for the clearing away 
 of all secret troubles? What end is there to be to this momen- 
 tous interview? Is it Stornoway Harbor? Is our frank -eyed 
 young doctor to come up with a silent wonder and joy on his 
 face — a message that needs no speech — message that only says, 
 "About with the yacht, and let us run away to the northern sea* 
 and Stornoway ?" The friend of these two young people can 
 hardly conceal her anxiety. She has got hold of the case of an 
 opera-glass, and opens and shuts it quickly and aimlessly. Then 
 there is a step on the companion-way ; she does not look ; she 
 only knows that Angus Sutherland comes on deck, and then goes 
 forward to the bow of the gig, and stands by himself, and looks 
 out to sea. 
 
 There is silence on board ; for a low rumble of thunder has 
 been heard once or twice, and we are listening. The mountains 
 of Jura are dark now, and the sultry mist in the south is deeper 
 in its gloom. This condition of the atmosphere produces a 
 vague sense of something about to happen, which is in itself un- 
 comfortable ; one would almost like to see a flash of lightning, 
 or hear the thunderous advance of a storm breaking in upon the 
 oppressive calm. 
 
 The Laird goes forward to Angus Sutherland. 
 
 " Well, doctor, and what think ye of the weather now ?" 
 
 The younger man starts and turns round, and for a second 
 looks at the Laird as if he had not quite comprehended the 
 question. 
 
 " Oh yes," he says. " You are quite right. It does look as if 
 we were going to have a dirty night." 
 
 And with that he turns to the sea again. 
 
 " Ay," says the Laird, scntcntiously. " I am glad we are in 
 a boat wc need have no fear of — none. Keep her away from 
 the shore, and wc are all right. Ihit — but I suppose we will get 
 into some harbor to-night, after all." 
 
 " It does not matter," he says, absently ; and then he goes 
 away up to the bow. He is alone there ; for the men have gone
 
 ONLY A HEADACHE.' 253 
 
 below for dinner — with the exception of John of Skye, who is 
 at the hchn. 
 
 Presently the special friend of the young man puts aside that 
 opera-glass case, and walks timidly forward to the bow of the 
 yacht. She regards him somewhat anxiously ; but his face is 
 turned away from her — looking over to the gloomy Jura hills. 
 
 "Angus," she says, briskly, "are we not going very near Jura, 
 if it is West Loch Tarbert we are making for ?" 
 
 He turned to her then, and she saw by his face that something 
 had happened. 
 
 " You have spoken to her, Angus ?" she said, in a low voice ; 
 and her earnest, kind eyes regarded the young man as if to an- 
 ticipate his answer. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 For a second or so he seemed disinclined to say more ; but 
 presently he added, scarcely looking at her, 
 
 " I am sorry that I must leave you the first time we get near 
 land." 
 
 " Oh, Angus !" 
 
 It was almost a cry, uttered in that low, piteous voice. Then 
 he looked at her. 
 
 "You have been very kind to me," said he, so that no one 
 should hear. " It is only a misfortune. But I wish I had never 
 seen the White Dove^ 
 
 " Oh, Angus, don't say that !" 
 
 " It is my own fault. I should never have come from Edin- 
 burgh. I knew that. I knew I was hazarding everything. And 
 she is not to blame — " 
 
 He could say no more, for one or two of the men now came 
 up from the forecastle. His hostess left him, and went aft, with 
 a hurt and indignant look on her face. AVhen the Laird asked 
 why Miss Mary did not come on deck, she said, " I don't know," 
 with an air which said she had ceased to take any further care 
 in Mary Avon's actions. And at dinner what heed did she pay 
 to the fact that Mary Avon was rather white, and silent, and pain- 
 ed-looking ? She had been disappointed. She had not expected 
 the friend of her bosom to act in this heartless manner. And 
 as for Howard Smith, she treated that young gentleman with a 
 cold courtesy which rather astonished him. 
 
 After dinner, when the men-folk had gone on deck, and wlien
 
 254 WHITE wrNGS : a yachting romance. 
 
 she was preparing to go too, a timid, appealing hand was laid on 
 her arm, 
 
 " I would like to speak to you," said the low voice of Mary 
 Avon. 
 
 Then she turned — only for a second. 
 
 " I think I know enough of what has happened, Mary," said 
 she ; " and it would not be right for me to intermeddle. Young 
 people are the best judges of their own affairs." 
 
 The appealing hand was withdrawn ; the girl retired to the 
 saloon, and sat down alone. 
 
 But here, on deck, an eager council of war was being held ; and 
 Angus Sutherland was as busy as any one with the extended chart 
 — the soundings barely visible in the waning light — and propo- 
 sals and counter -proposals were being freely bandied about. 
 Night was coming on ; dirty-looking weather seemed to be com- 
 ing up from the south ; and the mouth of West Loch Tarbert is 
 narrow and shallow in parts, and studded with rocks — a nasty 
 place to enter in the dark. Moreover, when should we get there, 
 beating against this south-easterly wind ? What if we were to 
 put her head round, and run for some improvised harbor among 
 the small islands under the shadow of the Jura hills, and wait 
 there for daylight to show us across the Sound? 
 
 There was but one dissentient. Angus Sutherland seemed 
 oddly anxious to get to West Loch Tarbert. He would himself 
 take the helm all night, if only the men would take their turn at 
 the lookout, one at a time. He was sure he could make the 
 channel, if we reached the mouth of the loch before daylight. 
 What ! with nothing shallower on the chart than four fathoms ! 
 How could there be any danger? 
 
 But the more prudent counsels of John of Skye at length pre- 
 vail, and there is a call to the men forward to stand by. Then 
 down goes the helm ; her head slews round with a rattling of 
 blocks and cordage ; the sheets of the head-sails are belayed to 
 leeward ; and then, with the boom away over the starboard davits, 
 we arc running free before this freshening breeze. 
 
 But the niglit is dark as we cautiously creep in under the vast 
 shadows of the Jura hills. Fortunately in here the wind is light ; 
 the White Dove seeras to feel her way through the gloom. All 
 eyes arc on the lookout ; and there is a general shout as we near- 
 ly run on a buoy set to mark a sunken ship. But we glide by in
 
 IN THE DARK. 255 
 
 safety ; and in due course of time the roar of the anchor chain 
 tells us that we are snug for the night. 
 
 " But where is Miss Mary ?" says the Laird, in the cheerfully 
 lit saloon, lie looks around him in an uncomfortable and un- 
 settled way. The saloon is not the saloon when Mary Avon is 
 out of it: here is her chair, next to his as usual, but it is va- 
 cant. How are we to spend the last happy hour of chatting 
 and joking without the pleased, bright face, and the timid, gen- 
 tle, shy, dark eyes ? 
 
 " Mary has gone to her cabin," says her hostess. " I suppose 
 she has a headache." 
 
 She supposes the girl has a headache, and has not asked ! 
 And can it be really Mary Avon that she is speaking of in that 
 cold, hurt, offended way ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 IN THE DARK. 
 
 And then the next morning the Laird is infinitely distressed. 
 
 " What ! not better yet ?" he says. " Dear me ! I wish I could 
 be a woman for awhile, to take some tea in to her, and read to 
 her, and coax her into better spirits. What a bad headache it 
 must be !" 
 
 But this generous sympathy on the part of one who is little 
 more than an acquaintance touches the heart of Mary Avon's 
 particular friend. She reproaches herself for her cruelty. She 
 not only gets the tea, and takes it into the cabin, but she adopts 
 a domineering tone, and declares that until the young lady be- 
 gins her breakfast she will not leave the place. And then she 
 looks at the timid, worn face ; and her hand is placed gently on 
 the hand of her friend, and she says, in a lower voice : 
 
 " Mary, don't think I am angry. I am only a little bit disap- 
 pointed. But I don't blame you : you could not help it. It is 
 a pity ; that is all." 
 
 The girl's face remains rather sad ; but she is quite self-pos- 
 sessed. 
 
 "You will let me go away," she says, looking down, "when 
 we get to some harbor ?"
 
 256 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " There is no need," says lier friend, regarding her. " Angus 
 will leave us to-day, as soon as we get across to Cantyre." 
 
 " Oh !" she said, quickly, and looking up with a brief appeal 
 in her eyes. " I hope not. Why should he go away ? I must 
 go ; I would rather go." 
 
 " Oh no, Mary," her friend said. " If there is any ' must ' in 
 the matter, it is on his side ; for you know his time is very valu- 
 able, and you must have guessed why he has already far exceed- 
 ed what he proposed to himself as his holiday. No, no, Mary ; 
 let us forget what has happened as soon as we can, and make the 
 best of the rest of our sailing. The Laird would have a fit, if 
 you seriously threatened to go. And I am sure you are not to 
 blame." 
 
 So she kissed her on the cheek, by way of reconciliation, and 
 left. And she told the Laird that Mary had been dutiful, and 
 had taken some breakfast, and would be up on deck in course of 
 time. 
 
 Meanwhile, those who had gone on deck had found the White 
 Dove lying in a dead calm, some three miles away from her anch- 
 orage of the previous night ; her sails hanging limp, a scorching 
 sun on the white decks, and a glare of light coming from the 
 blue sky and the glassy blue sea. 
 
 " Well, Angus," says his hostess, very merrily — for she does 
 not wish to let the others guess the reason of his sudden depart- 
 ure — " you see the weather does not approve of your leaving us. 
 What has become of your thunder-storm ? Wliere is the gale 
 from the south, John ?" 
 
 " I was never seeing the like of this weather, mem," said the 
 bearded skipper. Then he added, anxiously, " And is Dr. Suth- 
 erland himself going away from the yat?" 
 
 "lie would like to," she says; "but how is he ever to see land 
 again if you banish the wind so ?" 
 
 "But it will no be like this long," says Captain John, eagerly ; 
 for he appears to think that Dr. Sutherland lias got tired of the 
 fine weather. "Oh no,' mem, I will answer for it. If Dr. Suth- 
 erland will wait another day, or two days, I am sure there will be 
 plenty of wind. And we can lie in West Loch Tarbert for one 
 day, or two days — " 
 
 "And starve?" she says, abru[)tly. 
 
 But now it aj)pears that one or two of the men have heard of
 
 IN THE UAKK. 257 
 
 a mysterious village lying somewhere inland from the mouth of 
 the loch ; and from a comparison of these vague rumors we gath- 
 er that we may not be so far from civilization after all. Perhaps 
 we may once again behold loaf bread. Visions of cutlets, fowls, 
 grouse, and hares arise. We shall once more hear some echo of 
 the distant world, if perchance there be in the place a worn and 
 ancient newspaper. 
 
 "Ay," said the Laird, hastily. "I would like to see a Glas- 
 gow newspaper. I'm thinking they must have got the steam 
 fire-engine by now ; and tine games the bairns will have when 
 they begin to practise with it, skelping about in the water. It 
 would be a grand thing to try it in the public garden when we 
 get it; it would keep the shrubs and the borders fine and wet 
 —eh ?" 
 
 "And it would be quite as interesting as any plaster fountain," 
 says his hostess, encouragingly. 
 
 " As handsome every bit," says the Laird, laughing heartily at 
 his play of imagination, " as any bit laddie done up in stucco, 
 standing on one leg, and holding up a pipe ! It's a utilitarian 
 age, ma'am — a utilitarian age ; we Avill have, instead of a foun- 
 tain, a steam fire-engine — very good ! very good ! — and they bod- 
 ies who are always crying out against expenditure on decoration 
 will be disappointed for once." 
 
 The Laird had at last discovered the whereabouts of the mys- 
 terious village on the Admiralty chart. 
 
 " But what newspaper will we get in a place hidden away like 
 that? — out of the reach of all communication wi' the world. 
 They'll be a century behind, mark my words. It is when ye 
 live within a reasonable distance of a great centre of ceeviliza- 
 tion, like Glasgow, that ye feel the life of it stirring your own 
 place too; and ye must keep up with the times; ye must be 
 moving. Conservative as I am, there is no supersteetious obsti- 
 nacy about me ; moving — moving — that's the word. The more 
 important the matter in the interest of the public, the more nec- 
 essary is it that we should have an impartial mind. If ye show 
 me a new sort of asphalt, do ye think I would not examine it, 
 jist because I recommended Jamicson and MacGregor's patent?" 
 
 He appealed boldly to his hostess. 
 
 " Oh, certainly ; certainly you would !" she says, with an ear- 
 nestness that might have made Jamieson and MacGregor quail.
 
 258 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 " For three weeks," says the Laird, solemnly, " I was on that 
 committee, until it seemed that my breakfast, and ray dinner, and 
 my supper every day was nothing but tar smoke. What wi' the 
 experiments without and within, I was just filled with tar smoke. 
 And would ye believe it, ma'am, one o' they Radical newspapers 
 went as far as to say there were secret influences at work when 
 Jamieson and MacGregor was decided on. My friends said, 
 'Prosecute the man for libel;' but I said, 'No; let the poor cray- 
 ture alone ; he has got to earn his living !' " 
 
 " That was very wise of you, sir," says his hostess. 
 
 " Bless me ! If a man in public life were to heed everything 
 that's said about him," observes the Laird, with a fine air of un- 
 concern, " what would become of his time ? No, no ; that is not 
 the principle on which a public man should found his life. Do 
 your best for your fellow-creatures, and let the squabblers say 
 what they like. As ah say, the poor wretches have to earn their 
 living." 
 
 Here Mary Avon appeared, somewhat pale and tired-looking ; 
 and the Laird instantly went to condole with her, and to get her 
 a deck chair, and what not. At the same moment, too, our 
 young doctor came along — perhaps with a brave desire to put an 
 end to her embarrassment at once — and shook hands with her, 
 and said, " Good-morning ; I hope your headache is better." 
 Her hand was trembling as it fell away from his ; and her " Yes, 
 thank you !" was almost inaudible. Then she sat down, and the 
 Laird resumed his discourse. 
 
 "I was once taken," said he, "by a fellow-commissioner of 
 mine to a sort of singing-place, or music-hall, in Glasgow." " 
 
 " What ?" 
 
 " Thoy wanted to have some such place in Strathgovan," con- 
 tinued the Laird, paying no heed, " and I was asked to go and 
 see what sort of entertainment was provided in such places. It 
 was a sorrowful sight, ma'am — a sorrowful sight ; the wretched 
 craytures on the stage laugliing at their own songs, and the peo- 
 ple not laughing at all, but given over to tobacco-smoking, and 
 whiskey, and talking among themselves. No glint of humor — 
 stupid, senseless stuff. But there was one young man sung a 
 song that had a better sound in it — I cannot remember the words 
 — but I sometimes think there was common-setise in them : it 
 was about minding your own business, and doing your own work,
 
 IN THE DARK. 259 
 
 and letting fools say or think of ye what they please. Ay, I 
 think there was something in that young man ; though I doubt, 
 by the look of his eyes, but he was a drinker." 
 
 He turned to Mary Avon, who had been content to be a mute 
 and unobserved listener. 
 
 " AVell, Miss Mary," said he, brightly, " and the headache is 
 going? And are ye looking forward to getting letters and news- 
 papers when we get back to the world ? There is a post-office at 
 that village of Clachan, John V 
 
 "Oh, ay, sir!" said John ; " there will be a post-office." 
 
 The Laird looked up at him reproachfully. 
 
 " But why cannot ye learn the English pronunciation, man ? 
 What's the necessity for ye to say pohst-offas ? Cannot ye pro- 
 nounce the plain English — post-oaffice ?" 
 
 "I am not very good at the English, sir," said Captain John, 
 with a grin. 
 
 " Ye'll never learn younger." 
 
 Then he went to Mary Avon, and suggested that a walk up 
 and down the deck might do her headache good ; and when she 
 rose he put her hand on his arm. 
 
 " Now," said he, as they started oflf, " I do not like headaches 
 in young people : they are not natural. And ye may think I am 
 very inqueesitive ; but it is the privilege of old men to be talka- 
 tive and inqueesitive ; and I am going to ask you a question." 
 
 There was certainly no effort at keeping a secret on the part 
 of the Laird; every one might have heard these two talking as 
 they quietly walked up and down. 
 
 " I am going to ask ye, plump and plain, if ye are not anxious 
 about going to London, and worrying yourself about the selling 
 of your pictures ? There now ; answer me that." 
 
 " Not very much, sir," she says, in a low voice. 
 
 "Listen to me," he said, speaking in a remarkably emphatic 
 way. " If that is on your mind, dismiss it. I tell you what : I 
 will undertake, on my own responsibeelity, that every painting 
 in oil, and every sketch in oil, and every water -color drawing, 
 and every sketch in water-color, that ye have on board this yacht, 
 will be sold wilhin one fortnight of your leaving the yacht. Do 
 ye understand that ?" 
 
 " You are very kind, sir." 
 
 " I am not bletherin'," said he : " no man ever knew me draw
 
 260 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 back from my word. So put that anxiety away from your mind 
 altogether, and let us have no more troubles. I could sell — I 
 could sell four times as many for ye in a fortnight. Bless ye, 
 lassie, ye do not know the people in the west of Scotland yet — 
 ye'll know them better by-and-by. If there's one thing they un- 
 derstand better than another, it is a good picture ; and they are 
 ready to put their hand in their pocket. Oh ! they Edinburgh 
 bodies are very fine creetics — they have what tliey believe to be 
 an elegant society in Edinburgh — and they talk a great deal 
 about pictures ; but do they put their hand in their pocket ? Ask 
 Tom Galbraith. Ask him where he gets three-fourths of his in- 
 come, lie lives in Edinburgh; but he gets his income from 
 the west of Scotland. Tom's a wise lad. He knows how to 
 feather his nest. And when he has become independent of the 
 picture-dealers, then he'll go to London, and fight the men there 
 on their own ground." 
 
 " I should like to see some of Mr. Galbraith's work," she said, 
 " before I return to England." 
 
 "You will have plenty of leisure to look at them by-and-by," 
 replied the Laird, quite simply. " I have some of Tom's very 
 best things at Denny-mains." 
 
 It was not until the cool of the afternoon that a light breeze 
 sprung up to fill the sails of the White Dove, and press her gently 
 on toward the coast of Cantyre. By this time every one on board 
 knew that Angus Sutherland was leaving, and leaving for good. 
 
 " I hope ye will come and see me at Denny-mains, Dr. Suther- 
 land," said the Laird, good-naturedly, " when ye happen to be in 
 Scotland. I have a neighbor there ye would be glad to meet — a 
 man who could talk to ye on your own subjects — Mr. Stoney." 
 
 Our doctor paid but little heed. He was silent and distraught. 
 His eyes had an absent and heavy look in them. 
 
 "A most distinguished man," the Laird continued. "I am 
 told his reputation in England is just as great as it is in this 
 country. A very distinguished man indeed. He read a paper 
 before the British Association not many years ago." 
 
 "About what, do you remember?" said the other at last. 
 
 "H'm !" said the Laird, apparently puzzling his memory. " Yc 
 see, a man in my poseetion has so much to do with the practi- 
 cal business of life, that perhaps he docs not pay just attention 
 to the speculations of others. But Mr. Stoney is a remarkable
 
 IN THE DARK. 261 
 
 man ; I am qstonisbed ye should liavc forgotten what the paper 
 was about. A most able man, and a fine, logical mind ; it is just 
 beautiful to hear him point out the close fitness between the 
 charges in the major proposeetion in the Semple case, and tlie 
 averments and extracts in the minor. Ye would be greatly de- 
 lighted and instructed by him, doctor. And there's another 
 thing." 
 
 Here the Laird looked shyly at Mary Avon. 
 
 " There's a young leddy here who has a secret of mine ; and 
 I'm thinking she has not said much about it. But I will make 
 a public confession now : it has been on my mind for some time 
 back that I might buy a screw yacht." 
 
 The Laird looked triumphantly around ; he had forgotten that 
 it was a very open secret. 
 
 " And wouldn't it be a sti'ange thing if this very party, just 
 as we are sitting now, were to be up at this very spot next year, 
 on board that yacht? — wouldn't that be a strange thing?" 
 
 " It would be a jolly pleasant thing," said the Youth. 
 
 " You are very kind to include me in the invitation," said 
 Angus Sutherland ; " but I doubt whether I shall ever be in 
 Scotland again. My father is a very old man now : that is the 
 only thing that would call me north. But I think I could get 
 on better with my own work by going abroad for some years — 
 to Naples, probably. I have to go to Italy before long, anyway." 
 
 He spoke in a matter-of-fact way. We did not doubt that he 
 might pursue his researches better in Naples. 
 
 It was in the dusk of the evening that we slowly sailed into 
 West Loch Tarbert — past a series of rocks and islands on which, 
 as we were given to understand, seals were more abundant than 
 limpets. But whereas the last haunt of the seals we had visited 
 had introduced us to a solitary and desolate loch, with sterile 
 shores and lonely ruins, this loch, so far as we could see, was a 
 cheerful and inhabited place, with one or two houses shining 
 palely white amidst the dark woods. And when we had come to 
 anchor, and sent ashore, although tliere were no provisions to be 
 got, the men returned with all the necessary information for 
 Angus Sutherland. By getting up very early next morning, and 
 walking a certain distance, he would catch a certain coach which 
 would take him on to Tarbert, on Loch Fyne, in time to catch 
 the steamer.
 
 262 WHITE wings: a yachtinu romance. 
 
 And so that night, before we turned in to our respective cab- 
 ins, the doctor bade us all formally good-bye ; and Mary Avon 
 among the rest. No one could have noticed the least difference 
 in his manner. 
 
 But in the middle of the night, in the ladies' cabin, a sound 
 of stifled sobbing. And the other woman goes over to the berth 
 of her companion, and bends her head down, and whispers, 
 
 " Mary, why are you crying ? Tell me." 
 
 She cannot speak for a time ; her whole frame is shaken with 
 the bitter sobs. And then she says, in a low, trembling, broken 
 voice, 
 
 " He has not forgiven me ! I saw it in his face." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 TO ABSENT FRIENDS. 
 
 Next morning, however, every one perceived an extraordinary 
 change in the appearance and manner of the girl. Mary Avon 
 had come back to ns again, with all the light and life of her face, 
 and the contented gentleness of the soft black eyes. What had 
 wrought the transformation ? Certain confidential assurances in 
 the silence of the night that Angus Sutherland, so far from not 
 forgiving her, had insisted that she was not to blame at all ? Or 
 the natural reaction after a long strain of anxiety ? Or merely the 
 welcome fresh breeze of the morning, with the cheerful, wooded 
 shores, and the white houses shining in the sunlight ? Anyhow, 
 there was quite a new expression in her face ; and we heard the 
 low, sweet laugh again. It is true that, once or twice, as she 
 walked up and down the deck with the Laird, her eyes grew pen- 
 sive as she looked away along the hills on the southern shores of 
 the loch. That was the direction in which Angus had left in the 
 morning. And these hills were somewhat overcast; it seemed 
 to be raining inland. 
 
 Moreover, there was somctliing else to make our breakfast party 
 a glad one. The two men who ha<l rowed our young doctor 
 across the loch at break of day had had the curiosity to pierce 
 inland as far as the village of Clachan; and the scouts had 
 brought back the most glowing accounts of the Promised Land
 
 TO ABSENT FRIENDS. 263 
 
 which they had discovered. They had penetrated a fertile and 
 deeply wooded valley ; and they had at length come upon a cen- 
 tre of the highest civilization. There was a post-office. There 
 was a telegraph office. There was a church, the clock of which 
 struck the hours. 
 
 " Just fancy that !" exclaimed our hostess. " A clock that 
 strikes the hours ! — and a telegraph office ! We might send a 
 telegram to ask whether the country has been invaded anywhere, 
 or whether the Prime-minister has committed suicide." 
 
 " I would like to hear about the steam fire-engine," said the 
 Laird, almost to himself. 
 
 " However, breeze or no breeze, seals or no seals," she says, 
 with decision, " we must stay over a day here, to have the yacht 
 thoroughly provisioned. We cannot go on skating on the edge 
 of tinned meats. We must have a plentiful supply of fresh veg- 
 etables, and fresh milk, and eggs and butter; and then two or 
 three joints are always so serviceable — cold, I mean, for lunch- 
 eon ; and if Fred cannot get any game, at least he must get us 
 some fowls. What do you say, Mary ? Shall we walk over to 
 this place, and clear the way for Fred ?" 
 
 " Oh no," says the other, lightly ; " you and I arc going with 
 the seal-shooters. They never get near anything, so we cannot 
 be in the way. I assure you, sir, we shall be as quiet as mice," 
 she adds, addressing the Laird. 
 
 "Ye will come with us, and ye will speak just as much as ye 
 please," said the Laird, dogmatically. " What signifies a seal ? 
 The crayture is good for nothing. And the idea of you two go- 
 ing away by yourselves into the country ! No — no ; come away 
 and get ready, Howard. If ye cannot shoot a seal with the two 
 leddies in the boat, ye will never do it without. And the sea- 
 breezes. Miss Mary," he added, with an approving air, " are better 
 for ye than the land-breezes. Oh ay ; ye are looking just fine 
 this morning." 
 
 A short time thereafter he was on deck, looking around him 
 at the pleasant trees and the blue waters, when Miss Avon joined 
 him, fully equipped for the expedition ; and just at this moment 
 they began to hear a sound of music in tlie stillness of the morn- 
 ing air. And then they perceived a rude old rowing-boat, pulled 
 by a small boy of twelve or so, coming nearer and nearer; while 
 another small boy of about the same age was peacefully reclining
 
 264 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 in tlio stern, liis head thrown back so that it met the full glare of 
 the morning sun, while he played vigorously, but rather inaccu- 
 rately, " The Campbells are Coming," on a tin whistle. 
 
 " Look at that !" said the Laird, with delight ; " is not that per- 
 fect happiness ? Look at his pride and laziness — having another 
 boy to pull him about, while he shows off on the penny whistle. 
 Dear me, I wish I was that young rascal !" 
 
 " He seems happy enough," she said, with a sigh. 
 
 " That is because he does not know it," remarked the Laird, 
 profoundly. " If you proved to him that he was happy, it would 
 immediately vanish." 
 
 " You cannot be consciously happy, but you may be conscious- 
 ly unhappy — that is rather hard," said she, absentl3^ 
 
 However, these two philosophers were withdrawn from this 
 occult point by a summons from the Youth, who had already 
 got the rifles and cartridges into the bow of the gig. And, in- 
 deed, as we rowed away from the yacht, in the direction of the 
 rocks at the mouth of the loch, Miss Avon seemed determined to 
 prove that, consciously or unconsciously, she was happy enough. 
 She would not even allow that Angus Sutherland could have felt 
 any pang of regret at leaving the White Dove and his friends. 
 
 " Poor chap !" said the Laird, with some compassion, as he 
 turned his head and looked away toward those gloomy hills, " it 
 must have been a lonesome journey for him this morning. And 
 he so fond of sailing, too. I'm thinking, when he saw what a 
 nice breeze there was, he was rather sorry to go away. I should 
 not wonder if it was wi' a heavy heart that he went on board the 
 steamer." 
 
 "Oh no, sir! why should you think tliat?" said Mary Avon, 
 quickly and anxiously. "If Dr. Sutlierland had nothing to con- 
 sider but yachting, he might liave been sorry to go away. But 
 think what lies before him ; think what calls him. Look at the 
 position he has won for hiinsclf already, and what is expected of 
 him. And you would have him throw away his splendid oppor- 
 tunities in yachting? There is not a university in Europe wliere 
 he is not known ; there is not a man of science in Europe who 
 docs not expect great things of him ; and — and how proud his 
 father must be of him !" 
 
 She spoke eagerly and almost breathlessly ; there was a pink 
 flush in lier cheek, but it was not from sliamefacedness. She
 
 TO ABSENT FRIENDS. 2G5 
 
 seemed desperately anxious to convince tlie Laird tliat our doctor 
 oug'Iit to have left the yacht, and must have left the yacht, and 
 could not do anything else but leave the yacht. Meanwhile her 
 friend and hostess regarded her curiously. 
 
 "A man witli such capacities as he has," continued the girl, 
 warmly, " with such a great future before him, owes it to himself 
 that he should not give way to mere sentiment. The world could 
 not get on at all if people — I mean if the great people, from whom 
 we expect much — were always to be consulting their feelings. 
 Perhaps he was sorry to leave the yacht. He does like sailing; 
 and — and I think he liked to be among friends. But what is 
 that when he knows there is work in the world for him to do ? 
 If he was sorry at leaving the yacht, you may depend on it that 
 that had passed away before he stepped on board the steamer. 
 For what was that trifling sentiment compared with the con- 
 sciousness that he had acted rightly ?" 
 
 Something about the precision of these phrases — for the girl 
 but rarely gave way to such a fit of earnest talking — seemed to 
 suggest to the silent person who was watching her, that this was 
 not the first time the girl had thought of these things. 
 
 " Idle people," said this youthful controversialist, " can afford 
 to indulge in sentiment ; but not those who have to do great 
 things in the world. And it is not as if — Dr. Sutherland" — 
 she always faltered the least bit just before pronouncing the name 
 — " were only working for his own fame or his own wealth. It is 
 for the good of mankind that he is working ; and if he has to 
 make this or that sacrifice, he knows that he is doing right. 
 What other reward does a man need to have ?" 
 
 " I am thinking of the poor old man in Banffshire," said her 
 friend to her, thoughtfully. " If Angus goes away to Italy for 
 some years, they may not see each other again." 
 
 At this the girl turned strangely pale, and remained silent ; but 
 she was unnoticed, for at this moment all attention was attracted 
 toward the seals. 
 
 There they were, no doubt, and in large numbers, AVe could 
 see the occasionally moving forms, scarcely distinguishable from 
 the brown sea-weed, on the long projecting points of the low 
 rocks; while here and there one of the animals could be made 
 out, poising himself in a semicircle — head and tail in the air — 
 like the letter O with the upper four-fifths cut off. But the
 
 266 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 problem was, how to get anywhere within shot. The rocks, or 
 small islands, had no doubt certain eminences in the middle, but 
 they were low and shallow all round. Obviously it was no use 
 bearing straight down on them from our present position; so it 
 was resolved to give them a wide berth, to pull away from the 
 islands altogether, and then approach them from the south, if 
 haply there might in this wise be some possibility of shelter. 
 It was observed that Queen Titania, during these whispered and 
 eager consultations, smiled gravely, and was silent. She had 
 been in the Highlands before. 
 
 Seals are foolish animals. We were half a mile away from 
 them ; and we were going still farther away. The rocking of 
 the water made it impossible for us to try a hap-liazard shot, 
 even if we had had a rifle that would have carried anything like 
 eight hundred yards with precision. There was not the least 
 reason for their being alarmed. But all the same, as we silently 
 and slowly paddled away from them — actually away from them 
 — the huge bodies one by one flopped and waddled, and dropped 
 into the water with a splash. In about a minute or so there was 
 not a seal visible through our best binoculars ; and Queen Tita- 
 nia calmly smiled. 
 
 But, as everybody knows, there are two sides to an island, as 
 to everything else. So we boldly bore down on the shores near- 
 est us, and resolved, on getting near, on a cautious and silent land- 
 ing. After many a trial we found a creek where the stern of the 
 gig could be backed into fairly deep water, along a ledge of rock, 
 and then two of us got out. The ladies produced their knitting 
 materials. 
 
 With much painful stooping and crawling we at length reached 
 the middle ridge, and there laid down our rifles to have a prelim- 
 inary peep round. That stealthy glance revealed the fact that 
 on the other side, also, the seals had been alarmed, and had left 
 the rocks ; but still they were not far away. We could see l)ere 
 and there a black and glistening head moving among the lapping 
 waters. Of course it would have been madness to have risked 
 our all on a random shot at sea. Hit or miss, the chances were 
 about equal we should not get the seal, so we quietly retired again 
 behind the ridge and sat down. We could see the gig and its 
 occu[)ants. It seemed to one of us at least that Queen Titania 
 was still amused.
 
 TO ABSENT FRIENDS. 267 
 
 A dead silence : while we idly regard the washed-up stores of 
 sea-shells around us, and patiently await the return of the seals to 
 the rocks. Then a sudden noise, that makes one's heart jump : a 
 couple of terns have discovered us, and the irate birds go wheel- 
 ing and shrieking overhead with screams that would have aroused 
 the Sleeping Beauty and all her household. In their fright and 
 wrath they come nearer and nearer; at times they remain mo- 
 tionless overhead ; but ever continues the shrill and piercing 
 shriek. The face of the Youth is awful to see. Again and again 
 he puts up his rifle ; and there is no doubt that, if he were to 
 fire, he might accomplish that feat which is more frequently heard 
 of in novels than elsewhere — shooting a bird on the wing with a 
 rifle. But then he is loath to throw away his last chance. With 
 a gesture of despair he lowers his weapon, and glances toward 
 the gig. Queen Titania has caught his eye, and he hers. She is 
 laughing. 
 
 At length we venture to hazard everything. Furtively each 
 rifle is protruded over the ledge of rock ; and furtively each head 
 creeps up by the stock, the hand on the trigger-guard. The cau- 
 tion is unnecessary. There is not a sign of any living thing all 
 around the shores. Even the two sea-swallows, alarmed by our 
 moving, have wheeled away into the distance : we are left in un- 
 disturbed possession of the island. Then the Youth clambers up 
 to the top of the rocks, and looks around. A skart, perched on 
 a far ledge, immediately takes flight, striking the water with his 
 heavy wings before he can get well on his way ; thereafter a dead 
 silence. 
 
 " It was the tern that did that," says the Youth, moodily, as 
 we return to the gig. " The seals must have known well enough." 
 
 "They generally do contrive to know somehow," is the an- 
 swer of one who is not much disappointed, and who is still less 
 surprised. 
 
 But this wicked woman all a-laughing when we return to the 
 
 gig ! 
 
 " Come, children," says she, " we shall barely be back in time 
 for lunch ; and we shall be all the longer that Angus is not here 
 to sing his ' Ho, ro, clansmen !' But the quicker the sooner, as 
 the Highlandman said. Jump in !" 
 
 " It was all owing to those sea-swallows," remarks the Youth, 
 gloomily.
 
 268 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " Never mind," says she, with great equanimity. " Mary and 
 I knew you would not shoot anything, or we should not have 
 come. Let us hasten back to see what Fred has shot for us with 
 his silver sixpences." 
 
 And so we tumble into the gig, and push away, and have a 
 long swinging pull back to the White Dove. 
 
 There is still some measure of justice meted out upon the 
 earth. The face of this fiend who has been laughing at us all 
 the morning becomes a trifle more anxious when she draws near 
 the yacht. For there is Master Fred idling up at the bow, instead 
 of being below looking after the vast stores he has got on board ; 
 and, moreover, as we draw near, and as he comes along to the 
 gangway, any one can perceive that our good Frederick d'or is 
 not in a facetious frame of mind. 
 
 " Well, Fred, have you got a good supply at last ?" she cries, 
 taking hold of the rope, and putting her foot on the step. 
 
 Fred mumbles something in reply. 
 
 " What have you got ?" she says, when she is on deck. " Any 
 game ?" 
 
 " No, mem." 
 
 " Oh, never mind ; the fowls will do very well." 
 
 Fred is rather silent, until he explains that he could not get 
 any fowls. 
 
 " No fowls ? What butcher' s-meat, then ?" says she, somewhat 
 indignantly. 
 
 "None." 
 
 " None ? — nothing ?" says she ; and a low titter begins to pre- 
 vail among the assembled crowd. " Have you not got a joint of 
 any sort?" 
 
 Fred is almost unwilling to confess — he is ashamed, angry, dis- 
 concerted. At last he blurts out, 
 
 " I could get nothing at all, mem, but fower loaves." 
 
 At this there was a roar of laughter. What had become of all 
 her fresh milk, and butter, and eggs; her mutton, and fowls, and 
 cutlets; her grouse, and snipe, and hares? We did not care for 
 our j)nvation ; we only rejoiced in her discomfiture. 
 
 "That is just like a Scotch village !" says she, savagely; "spend- 
 ing all its money on a church-bell, and not able to keep a decent 
 shop open ! Do you mean to say you could not get a carrot, or 
 a cabbage, or a pennyworth of milk ?"
 
 TO ABSENT FRIENDS. 269 
 
 " No, mem." 
 
 " John," she says, in a domineering way, " why don't you get 
 the sails up ? What is the use of staying in a place like this ?" 
 
 John comes forward timidly, and stroking his great beard : he 
 half believes in these furious rages of hers. 
 
 " Oh yes, mem ; if ye please, mem, I will get the sail set ; but 
 — but the tide will be turning soon, mem, and the wind she will 
 be against us as soon as we get out of the loch ; and it will be 
 a long, long time before we get to Crinan. I not well acquent 
 Avith this place, mem : if we were up in our own part of the 
 Highlands, do you think the people would let the White Dove be 
 so long without the fresh cabbage and the milk ? No ; I not 
 think that, mem." 
 
 " But we are not in our own part of the Highlands," says she, 
 querulously ; " and do you think we are going to starve ? How- 
 ever, I suppose Fred can give us a biscuit. Let us go below." 
 
 Our lunch was, in truth, simple enough ; but perhaps it was 
 this indirect appeal to Fred that determined that worthy to sur- 
 prise us at dinner that evening. First of all, after we had re- 
 turned from another ineffectual seal-hunt, we found he had dec- 
 orated the dinner -table in an elaborate manner. There was a 
 clean cloth, shining with the starch in it. There was a great 
 dish of scarlet rowans in the middle of the table ; and the rowans 
 had a border of white heather — gathered at Loch-na-Chill : the 
 rowans were for lovely color, the heather was for luck. Then, 
 not content with that, he had put all our available silver on the 
 table, including the candlesticks and the snuffer-tray, though the 
 sun had not yet sunk behind the Jura hills. But the banquet 
 defies description. The vast basin of steaming kidney soup, the 
 boiled lithe, the fried mackerel, the round of tongue, the corned 
 beef, the tomatoes, the pickles, the sardines, the convolutions of 
 pudding and apricot jam — what fish-monger, or dry-salter, or gun- 
 maker could have wanted more ? Nor was there any Apemantus 
 at the feast ; there was the smiling and benign countenance of 
 the Laird, who again and again made facetious remarks about 
 the kirk bell of Clachan. Then he said, more formally, 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, I am going to ask ye to drink a 
 toast." 
 
 " Oh, uncle," said the Youth, deprecatingly, " we are not at a 
 Commissioners' meetino- at Stratho-ovan !"
 
 270 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 "And I will thank ye to fill your glasses," said the Laird, tak- 
 ing no lieed of Young England and his modern want of manners. 
 " I have to ask ye, ladies and gentlemen, to drink the health of 
 one who is an old and valued friend of some of us, who is ad- 
 mired and respected by us all. It would ill become us, now that 
 he has been separated from us but by a day, that we should for- 
 get him in his absence. We have come in close contact with 
 him ; we have seen his fine qualities of temper and character ; 
 and I am sure no one present will contradict me when I say that, 
 great as are his abeelities, they are not more remarkable than his 
 modesty, and his good-humor, and his simple, plain, frank ways. 
 With a man of less solid judgment, I might be afraid of certain 
 dangerous tendencies of these times ; but our friend has a Scotch 
 head on his shoulders ; he may be dazzled by their new-fangled 
 speculations, but not convinced — not convinced. It is a rare 
 thing — I will say it, thoflgh I am but a recent acquaintance, and 
 do not know him as well as some now at this hospitable board — 
 to find such powers of intellect united with such a quiet and un- 
 assuming manliness. Ladies and gentlemen, I give ye the health 
 of Dr. Angus Sutherland. We regret that he has gone from us ; 
 but we know that duty calls, and we honor the man who stands 
 to his guns. It may be that we may see him in these waters 
 once more, it may be that we may not ; but whatever may be in 
 store for him or for us, we know he will be worthy of the hopes 
 we build on him, and we drink his health now in his absence, and 
 wish him godspeed !" 
 
 " Hear ! hear !" cried the Youth, who was greatly amused by 
 this burst of old-fashioned eloquence. But Mary Avon sat white 
 and trembling, and quite forgot to put the glass to her lips. It 
 was her hostess who spoke next, with a laugh. 
 
 "I think, sir," said she, "I might give you a hint. If you 
 were to go up on deck and ask the men whether they would like 
 to drink Angus's health, I don't think they would refuse." 
 
 " It is a most capital suggestion," said the Laird, rising to take 
 down his wide-awake.
 
 SUSPICIONS. 271 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 SUSPICIONS. 
 
 It was handsomely done on tlie part of the Laird, to pay tliat 
 tribute to his vanquished and departed enemy. But next morn- 
 ing, as we were getting under way, he got a chance of speaking 
 to his hostess alone, and he could not quite forego a little bit of 
 boasting over his superior astuteness and prescience. 
 
 " What did I say, ma'am," he asked, with a confident chuckle, 
 " when ye made a communication to me on the subject of our 
 friend who has just left us? Did I not offer to make ye a Avager, 
 though I am but little of a gambler? A gold ring, a sixpence, 
 and a silver thimble ; did I not offer to wager ye these three ar- 
 ticles that your guesses were not quite correct ? And what has 
 become of Dr. Sutherland now ?" 
 
 His hostess is not in this gay humor. She answers with a 
 touch of reserve : 
 
 " If I made any mistake, it was about Mary. And I had no 
 right to suspect anything, for she never took me into her confi- 
 dence ; and I do not approve of elderly people prying into the 
 affairs of young people." 
 
 "Pry?" says the Laird, loftily and graciously. " No, no ; no 
 prying. But judgment — is there any harm in one keeping one's 
 eyes open ? And did not I tell ye, ma'am, to be of good heart — 
 that everything would go properly and smoothly ?" 
 
 " And has it ?" she says, sharply, and looking up with a glance 
 of indignation. 
 
 The Laird, however, is so wrapped up in his own thoughts that 
 he does not notice this protest. 
 
 " She is a fine lass, that," he says, with decision. " Did ye 
 ever hear a young girl speak such clear common -sense as she 
 spoke yesterday about that very doctor? There is no affected 
 sentiment — there is nothing of your Clarinda and Philander 
 noavel- writing — about that lass: did ye ever hear such good, 
 sound, clear common-sense ?"
 
 272 WHITE WINGS : A VACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " I heard her," says his hostess, shortly. 
 
 By this time we had weighed anchor, and the White Dove was 
 slowly sailing down the loch before a light northerly breeze. 
 Then Mary Avon came on deck, followed by the attentive Youth. 
 And while everybody on board was eagerly noticing things 
 ahead — the seals on the rocks at the mouth of the loch, the windy 
 gray sea beyond, and the blue mountains of Jura — Mary Avon 
 alone looked backward to the low lines of hills we were leaving. 
 She sat silent and apart. 
 
 The Laird stepped over to her. 
 
 " AVe have just been talking about the doctor," says he, cheer- 
 fully. "And we were saying there was plenty of good common- 
 sense in what ye said yesterday about his duties and his pros- 
 pects. Oh ay ! But then, ye ken. Miss Mary, even the busiest 
 and the wisest of men must have their holiday at times ; and I 
 have just been thinking that if we can get Dr. Sutherland to 
 come with us next year, we will maybe surprise him by what ye 
 can do wi' a steam-yacht. Why, during the time we have been 
 lying hei'e, we might have run across to Ireland and back in a 
 steam-yacht. It is true, there would be less enjoyment for him 
 in the sailing ; but still there are compensations." 
 
 His hostess has overheard all this. She says, in her gentle way, 
 but with a cold and cruel clearness, 
 
 "You know, sir, that is quite impossible. Angus will not be 
 in Scotland for many a day to come." 
 
 The girl's face is hidden ; apparently she is still gazing back 
 on those slowly receding hills. 
 
 " Toots ! toots !" says the Laird, briskly. " The lad is not a 
 fool. He will make an occasion if he considers it desirable : 
 there is no compulsion that he must remain in Eetaly. I think 
 I would even lay a wager that we will have just the same party, 
 and the doctor included, on that steam-yacht next year, and in this 
 very place. Is it a wager, ma'am ?" 
 
 "I am afraid you must leave us out," she remarks, "at all 
 events. And as for Angus Sutherland, I shall be surprised if 
 ever he sees West Loch Tarbert again." 
 
 Why had not Mary Avon spoken? The Laird went a step 
 nearer her, and put his hand gently on her shoulder. 
 
 " Well, Miss Mary," said he," what are we to do to show these peo- 
 ple their folly and wickedness — eh ? I think 1 will leave it to you."
 
 SUSPICIONS. 2V3 
 
 " Oil no, sir." This, or sometliing like this, slie was under- 
 stood to say, in a low voice ; but at the same moment she rose 
 quickly, crossed the deck, put a trembling hand on the corapan- 
 ion-way, and went below. Just as she disappeared she could not 
 quite conceal her face, and there was a look on it that startled 
 the Laird. Had the girl been stealthily crying all the time she 
 had been looking back at those distant hills ? 
 
 The Laird was greatly disturbed. He said nothing, for he 
 would not have it understood that anything had happened ; but 
 any one could see by his preoccupied manner that he was seri- 
 ously troubled. He had directed a quick, sharp glance of sur- 
 prise and inquiry at his hostess, but just then she was stepping 
 aside to get out of the way of Captain John. The Laird sat 
 down by himself, and remained in a profound silence. He seem- 
 ed to pay no attention to what was going on. 
 
 But there was brisk work enough all over the yacht ; for now 
 we had got clear of the long promontory and its islands ; and out 
 here in the open there was a pretty heavy sea running, while the 
 wind began to freshen up a bit. There was a squally look about 
 the sea and sky : it was considered prudent to lower the topsail. 
 Now and again there was a heavy shock at the bows, and then a 
 dipping of heads to dodge the flying shreds of spray. In the 
 midst of all this Miss Avon appeared again. 
 
 " I thought we should catch it !" said she, in the blithest of 
 tones ; and she addressed herself particularly to the Laird. "And 
 it is better to be prepared. But oh dear me! what a nuisance 
 a water-proof is !"' 
 
 And, indeed, the wind was blowing that hooded and caped gar- 
 ment all about her head, so that her dark hair was becoming con- 
 siderably dishevelled. The Youth came to her assistance ; put a 
 cushion and a shawl for her just beside her hostess, under the lee 
 of the weather bulwarks ; then she snugly ensconced herself there, 
 and seemed to be very merry and happy indeed. 
 
 " Don't you often wish you were a fish, when the weather is 
 wet," she says, gayly, to her friend, " so that you might be per- 
 fectly indifferent V And here she cries " Oh !" again, because a 
 drop or two of spray has come flying past the keel of the gig, and 
 just caught her on the crown of her water-proof. 
 
 Nothing can exceed her talk, her laughter, her cheerfulness. 
 She nestles close to her friend ; she is like a spoiled child ; she 
 
 13*
 
 274 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 makes fun of the Youth's attempts to steer. And the Laird is 
 regarding her with a grave wonder — perhaps with some dark sus- 
 picion — when she lightly addresses herself to him again : 
 
 " But what about that strong man, sir ? You were going to 
 tell us the story yesterday, when you were interrupted." 
 
 It was a cunning device. How could a professed story-teller 
 refuse to rise to the bait? The watchfulness disappeared from 
 the face of the Laird ; in its place a sort of anticipatory laughter 
 began to shine. 
 
 " But it was Tom Galbraith heard of that man," said he, in a 
 deprecating way. " Did I not tell ye ? Oh ay, it was Tom Gal- 
 braith heard of him when he was in Ross-shire ; and it was he 
 told me of the wonderful things that man could do, according to 
 the natives. Did not I tell ye of his rolling an enormous stone 
 up a hill, and of the stone being split into nine pieces ; yet not 
 any one man could roll up one of the nine pieces? But I was 
 going to tell ye of his being in Prince's Street, Edinburgh, and a 
 coach-and-four was coming whirling along ; the horses had run 
 away, and no one could stop them. McKinlay was walking along 
 the street when the people called to him to look out, for the four 
 horses were running mad; but the Ross-shire Samson was not 
 afraid. No, no — " 
 
 Here a wisp of spray somewhat disconcerted the Laird ; but 
 only for a moment. He wiped the salt-water from the side of 
 his neck and continued, with suppressed laughter bubbling up in 
 his eyes, 
 
 "The man that told Tom Galbraith," said ho, "was a solemn 
 believer, and spoke with reverence. ' McKinlay,' says he, ' he will 
 turn to the street, and he will grab at the four horses and the 
 coach, and he will took them up in his two hands — shist like a 
 mice /' " 
 
 ^^Shist like a micey The Laird preserved a stern silence. The 
 humor of this story was so desperately occult that he would leave 
 the coarse applause to us. Only there was an odd light in his 
 eyes, and we knew that it was all he could do to prevent his burst- 
 ing out into a roar of laughter. But Mary Avon laughed, until 
 John of Skye, who had not heard a word, grinned, out of pure 
 sympathy. 
 
 " He must have been the man," said Miss Avon, diffidently — 
 for she did not like to encroach on the Laird's province — " whom
 
 SUSPICIONS. 275 
 
 Captain John told mc about, who could drink whiskey so strong 
 that a drop of it would burn a white mark on a tarred rope." 
 
 But the Laird was not jealous. 
 
 " Very good — very good !" he cried, with extreme delight. 
 "Excellent — a real good one! 'Deed, I'll tell that to Tom 
 Galbraith." 
 
 And the high spirits and the facetiousness of these two chil- 
 dren continued through lunch. That was rather a wild meal, 
 considering that we were still sawing across the boisterous Sound 
 of Jura, in the teeth of a fresh northerly breeze. However, noth- 
 ing could exceed the devotion of the Youth, who got scarcely any 
 luncheon at all in his efforts to control the antics of pickle-jars, 
 and to bolster up bottles. Then, when everything was secure, 
 there would be an ominous call overhead, ''''Stand by forrard, 
 boysP'' followed by a period of frantic revolution and panic. 
 
 " Yes," continued the Laird, when we got on deck again ; " a 
 sense of humor is a great power in human affairs. A man in 
 public life without it is like a ship without a helm : he is sure to 
 go and do something redeeclous that a smaller man w<5uld have 
 avoided altogether. Ay, my father's sense of humor was often 
 said by people to be quite extraordinar' — quite extraordinar'. I 
 make no pretensions that way maself." 
 
 Here the Laird waved his hand, as if to deprecate any courte- 
 ous protest. 
 
 " No, no ; I have no pretensions that way ; but sometimes a 
 bit joke comes in verra well when ye are dealing with solemn and 
 pretentious asses. There is one man in Strathgovan — " 
 
 But here the Laird's contempt of this dull person could not 
 find vent in words. He put up both hands, palm outw^ard, and 
 shook them, and shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " A most desperately stupid ass, and as loquacious as a parrot. 
 I mind fine when I was giving my earnest attention to the sub- 
 ject of our police system. I may tell ye, ma'am, that our burgh 
 stretches over about a mile each way, and that it has a popula- 
 tion of over eight thousand souls, with a vast quantity of valuable 
 property ; and up till that time we had but two policemen on duty 
 at the same time during the night. It was my opeenion that that 
 number was quite inahdequate ; and I stated my opeenion at a 
 meeting of the Commissioners convened for that purpose. Well, 
 would ye believe it, this meddlesome body, Johnny Guthrie, got
 
 276 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 upon his legs, and preached and preached away ; and all that he 
 had to tell us was that we could not add to the number of police 
 without the consent of the Commissioners of Supply and the 
 Home-secretary. Bless me ! what bairn is there but knows that ? 
 I'll be bound, Miss Mary there, though she comes from England, 
 would know as much about public affairs as that." 
 
 " I — I am afraid not, sir," said she. 
 
 " No matter — no matter. Live and learn. When ye come to 
 Strathgovan we'll begin and teach ye. However, as I was say in', 
 this bletherin' poor crayture went on and on, and it was all about 
 the one point, until I got up, and, ' Mr. Provost,' says I, ' there are 
 some human beings it would be idle to answer. Their loquacity 
 is a sort of function ; they perspire through their tongue — like a 
 doag.' Ye should have seen Johnny Guthrie's face after that !" 
 
 And here the Laird laughed and laughed again at Johnny 
 Guthrie's discomfiture. 
 
 " But he was a poor bletherin' crayture," he continued, with a 
 kind of compassion. " Providence made him what he is ; but 
 sometimes I think Johnny tries to make himself even more re- 
 deeclous than Providence could fairly and honestly have intended. 
 He attacked me most bitterly because I got a committee appointed 
 to represent to the postmaster that we should have a later delivery 
 at night. He attacked me most bitterly ; and yet I think it was 
 one of the greatest reforms ever introduced into our burgh." 
 
 " Oh, indeed, sir !" says his hostess, with earnest attention. 
 
 " Yes, indeed. The postmaster is a most civil, worthy, and 
 respectable man, though it was a sore blow to him when his 
 daughter took to going to the Episcopal Church in Glasgow. 
 However, with liis assistance, we now get the letters that used 
 to be delivered in the forenoon delivered late the night before; 
 and we have a mail made up at 10 p.m., which is a great conve- 
 nience. And that man Johnny Guthrie gabbling away as if the 
 French Revolution were coming back on us ! I am a Conserva- 
 tive myself, as ye know, ma'am ; but I say that we must march 
 with the times. No standing still in these days. However, ye 
 will get Johnny Guthries everywhere ; poor bletherin' craytures, 
 who have no capacity for taking a large view of public affairs — 
 bats and blind worms, as it were : I suppose there is a use for 
 them, as it has pleased Providence to create them ; but it would 
 puzzle an ordinary person to find it out."
 
 SUSPICIONS. 277 
 
 With mueli of tlic like wise discourse did tlie Laird beguile 
 our northward voyage ; and apparently he had forgotten that 
 little incident about Mary Avon in the morning. The girl was 
 as much interested as any one ; laughed at the " good ones ;" 
 was ready to pour her contempt on the Johnny Guthries who 
 opposed the projects of the Laird's statesmanship. And in this 
 manner we fought our way against the stiff northerly breeze, 
 until evening found us off the mouth of Loch Crinan. Here we 
 proposed to run in for the night, so that we should have day- 
 light and a favorable tide to enable us to pass through the Doruis 
 Mohr. 
 
 It was a beautiful, quiet evening in this sheltered bay ; and 
 after dinner we were all on deck, reading, smoking, and what 
 not. The Laird and Mary Avon were playing chess together. 
 The glow of the sunset was still in the western sky, and reflected 
 on the smooth water around us ; though Jura and Scarba were 
 of a dark, soft, luminous rose-purple. 
 
 Chess is a silent game ; the Laird was not surprised that his 
 companion did not speak to him. And so absorbed was he with 
 his knights and bishops that he did not notice that, in the abso- 
 lute silence of this still evening, one of the men forward was idly 
 whistling to himself the sad air of Lochaber : 
 
 " Lochaber uo more ! and Lochaber no more ! 
 "We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more !" 
 
 It was the old and familiar refrain : Hector of Moidart was prob- 
 ably not thinking of Lochaber at all. 
 
 But suddenly the Laird, staring down at the board, perceived 
 some little tiny thing drop on the farther edge from him, and he 
 quickly looked up. The girl was crying. Instantly he put out 
 his great hand and took hers, and said, in a low voice, full of 
 gentleness and a tender sympathy, 
 
 " Dear me, lassie, what is the matter ?" 
 
 But Mary Avon hastily pulled out her handkerchief and pass- 
 ed it across her eyes, and said, hurriedly, 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon ! it is nothing : I — I was thinking of 
 something else. And is it your move or mine, sir?" 
 
 The Laird looked at her, but her eyes were cast down. He 
 did not pay so much attention to the game after that.
 
 278 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 certainty. 
 
 Next morning there is a lively commotion on board. The 
 squally, blustering-looking skies, the glimpses of the white horses 
 out there on the driven green sea, and the fresh northerly breeze 
 that comes in gusts and swirls about the rigging, all tell us that 
 we shall have some hard work before we pierce the Doruis Mohr. 
 
 "You won't want for wind to-day. Captain John," says the 
 Youth, who is waiting to give the men a hand at the windlass. 
 
 " 'Deed, no," says John of Skye, with a grim smile. " This is 
 the kind of day that Dr. Sutherland would like, and the White 
 Dove going through the Doruis Mohr, too !" 
 
 However, the Laird seems to take no interest in what is going 
 forward. All the morning he has been silent and preoccupied, 
 occasionally approaching his hostess, but never getting an oppor- 
 tunity of speaking with her alone. At last, when he observes 
 that every one is on deck, and eagerly watching the White Dove 
 getting under way, he covertly and quietly touches our Admiral 
 on the arm. 
 
 "I would speak to ye below for a moment, ma'am," he says, in 
 a whisper. 
 
 And so, unnoticed amidst all this bustle, she follows him down 
 into the saloon, wondering not a little. And as soon as he has 
 shut the door he plunges in medias res. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, ma'am ; but I must speak to ye ; it is 
 about your friend Miss Mary. Have ye not observed that she is 
 sorely troubled about something, though she puts a brave face on 
 it, and will not acknowledge it ? Have ye not seen it — have ye 
 not guessed that she is grievously troubled about some matter or 
 other ?" 
 
 " I have guessed it," said the other. 
 
 "I'oor lass! poor lass!" said the Laird; and then he added, 
 thoughtfully, " It is no small matter that can affect so light- 
 hearted a creature : that is what I want to ask ye. Do ye know ?
 
 CERTAINTY. 279 
 
 Have yc giiesscd? Surely it is something that some of us can 
 help her wi'. Indeed, it just distresses me beyond measure to 
 see that trouble in her face ; and when I see her try to conceal it, 
 and to make believe that everything is well with her, I feel as if 
 there was nothing I would not do for the poor lass." 
 
 "But I don't think either you or I can help. Young people 
 must manage their affairs for themselves," says his hostess, some- 
 what coldly. 
 
 " But what is it ?— what is it ? What is troubling her «" 
 
 Queen Titania regards him for a moment, apparently uncertain 
 as to how far she should go. At last she says : 
 
 " Well, I am not revealing any confidence of Mary's, for she 
 has told me nothing about it ; but I may as well say at once 
 that when we were in West Loch Tarbert, Dr. Sutherland asked 
 her to be his wife, and she refused him ; and now I suppose she 
 is breaking her heart about it." 
 
 "Dear me ! dear me !" says the Laird, with eyes open w^ide. 
 
 " It is always the way with girls," says the other, with a cruel 
 cynicism. Whether they say ' Yes ' or ' No,' they are sure to cry 
 over it. And naturally ; for whether they say ' Yes ' or ' No,' 
 they are sure to have made an irretrievable blunder." 
 
 The Laird is slowly recovering from his first shock of surprise. 
 
 " But if she did refuse him, surely that is what any one would 
 have expected ? There is nothing singular in that." 
 
 " Pardon me ; I think there is something very singular," she 
 says, warmly. " I don't see how any one could have been with 
 these two up in the North, and not perceived that there was an 
 understanding between them. If any girl ever encouraged a man, 
 she did. Why, sir, when you proposed that your nephew should 
 come with us, and make love to Mary, I said, ' Yes,' because I 
 thought it would be merely a joke. I thought he would please 
 you by consenting, and not harm anybody else. But now it has 
 turned out quite different, and Angus Sutherland has gone away." 
 
 And at this there was a return of the proud and hurt look into 
 her eyes. Angus was her friend ; she had not expected this idle 
 boy would have supplanted him. 
 
 The Laird was greatly disturbed. The beautiful picture that 
 he had been painting for himself during this summer idleness of 
 ours — filling in the details with a lingering and loving care — 
 seetned to fade away into impalpable mist, and he was confronted
 
 280 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 b}^ blank chaos. And this, loo, just at the moment when the de- 
 parture of the doctor appeared to render all his plans doubly 
 secure. 
 
 He rose. 
 
 " I will think over it, ma'am," he said, slowly. " I am obliged 
 to ye for your information : perhaps I was not as observant as I 
 should have been." 
 
 Then she sought to stay him for a moment. 
 
 " Don't you think, sir," said she, timidly, " it would be better 
 for neither you nor I to interfere ?" 
 
 The Laird turned. 
 
 " I made a promise to the lass," said he, quite simply, " one 
 night we w^ere in Loch Leven, and she and I were walking on the 
 deck, that when she was in trouble I would try to help her; and 
 I will not break my promise through any fear of being called an 
 intermeddler. I will go to the girl myself — when I have the op- 
 portunity ; and if she prefers to keep her own counsel — if she 
 thinks I am only an old Scotch fool, who should be minding my 
 own business — I will not grumble." 
 
 And again he was going away, when again she detained him. 
 
 " I hope you do not think I spoke harshly of Mary," said she, 
 penitentially. " I own that I was a little disappointed. And 
 it seemed so certain. But I am sure she has sufficient reason 
 for whatever she has done, and that she believes she is acting 
 rightly." 
 
 " Of that there is no doubt," said he, promptly. " The girl 
 has just a wonderful clear notion of doing what she ought to do ; 
 and nothing would make her flinch." Then he added, after a 
 second, " But I will think over it, and then go to herself. Per- 
 haps she feels lonely, and does not know that there is a home 
 awaiting her at Denny-mains." 
 
 So both of them went on deck again, and found that the 
 White Dove was already sailing away from the Trossachs-like 
 shores of Loch Crinan, and getting farther out into this squally 
 green sea. There were bursts of sunlight flying across the rocks 
 and the white-tipped waves ; but ordinarily the sky was over- 
 cast, masses of gray and silvery cloud coming swinging along 
 from the north. 
 
 Then the Laird showed himself discreet " before folk." lie 
 would not appear to have any designs on Mary Avon's confi-
 
 CERTAINTY. 281 
 
 dences. IIo talked in a loud and confident fashion to John of 
 Skye about the weather, and tlie Doruis Mohr, and Corrievre- 
 chan. Finally, he suggested, in a facetious way, that as the young- 
 er men had occasionally had their turn at the helm, he might 
 have his now, for the first time. 
 
 "If ye please, sir," said Captain John, relinquishing the tiller 
 to him with a smile of thanks, and going forward to have a quiet 
 pipe. 
 
 But the Laird seemed a little bit confused by the rope which 
 John had confided to him. In a light breeze, and with his hand 
 on the tiller, he might have done very well ; but this looped rope, 
 to which he had to cling so as to steady himself, seemed puz- 
 zling. And almost at the same time the White Dove began to 
 creep up to the wind, and presently the sails showed an ominous 
 quiver. 
 
 " Keep her full, sir," said John of Skye, turning round. 
 
 But instead of that, the sails flapped more and more ; there 
 was a rattling of blocks ; two men came tumbling up from the 
 forecastle, thinking the yacht was being put about. 
 
 " Shove your hand from ye, sir !" called out the skipper to the 
 distressed steersman ; and this somewhat infantine direction soon 
 put the vessel on her course again. 
 
 In a few minutes thereafter John of Skye put his pipe in his 
 waistcoat pocket. 
 
 " We'll let her about now% sir," he called to the Laird. 
 
 The two men who happened to be on deck went to the jib- 
 sheets, John himself leisurely proceeding to stand by the weather 
 fore-sheet. Then, as the Laird seemed still to await further or- 
 ders, he called out, 
 
 " Helm hard down, sir, if ye please !" 
 
 But this rope bothered the Laird. lie angrily untwisted it, 
 let it drop on the deck, and then with both hands endeavored to 
 jam the tiller toward the weather bulwarks, which were certainly 
 nearer to him than the lee bulwarks. 
 
 " The other way, sir !" Mary Avon cried to him, anxiously. 
 
 " Bless me ! bless me ! Of course !" he cried, in return ; and 
 then he let the tiller go, and just managed to get out of its way 
 as it swung to leeward. And then as the bow sheered round, 
 and the White Dove made away for the mouth of Loch Craig- 
 nish on the port tack, he soon discovered the use of the weather
 
 282 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 tiller-rope, for the wind was now blowing hard, and the yacht 
 pitching a good deal. 
 
 " We are getting on, Miss Mary !" he cried to her, crushing his 
 wide-awake down over his forehead. " Have ye not got a bit 
 song for us ? What about the two sailors that pitied all the 
 poor folk in London ?" 
 
 She only cast down her eyes, and a faint color suffused her 
 cheeks : our singing-bird had left us. 
 
 " Howard, lad !" the Laird called out again, in his facetious 
 manner, "ye are not looking Avell, man. Is the pitching too 
 much for you?" 
 
 The Youth was certainly not looking very brilliant, but he 
 managed to conjure up a ghastly smile. 
 
 " If I get ill," said he, " I will blame it on the steering." 
 
 " 'Deed ye will not !" said the Laird, who seemed to have been 
 satisfied with his performances. " I am not going to steer this 
 boat through the Doruis Mohr. Here, John, come back to your 
 post !" 
 
 John of Skye came promptly aft; in no case would he have 
 allowed an amateur to pilot the White Dove through this narrow 
 strait with its swirling currents. However, when the proper time 
 came, wc got through the Doruis Mohr very easily, there being a 
 strong flood-tide to help ns ; and the brief respite under the lee 
 of the land allowed the Youth to summon back his color and his 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 The Laird had ensconced himself beside Mary Avon ; he had a 
 little circle of admiring listeners ; he was telling us, amidst great 
 shouts of laughter, how Ilomesh had replied to one tourist, who 
 had asked for something to cat, that that was impossible, " bekass 
 ahl the plate was cleaned ;" and how Ilomesh had answered an- 
 other tourist, who represented that the towel in the lavatory was 
 not as it should be, that " more than fifty or sixty people was 
 using that towel this very day, and not a complaint from any one 
 of them ;" and how Ilomesh, when his assistant stumbled and 
 threw a leg of mutton on to the deck, called out to him in his 
 rage, " Ye young teffle, I will knock the stairs down your head !" 
 Wc were more and more delighted with Ilomesh and his apocry- 
 phal adventures. 
 
 But now other things than Ilomesh were claiming our atten- 
 tion. Once through the Doruis, we found the wind blowing
 
 CERTAINTY. 283 
 
 harder than ever, and a heavy sea running. The day had clear- 
 ed, and the sun was gleamini*- on the white crests of the waves ; 
 but the air was thick with whirled spray, and the decks were run- 
 ning wet. The White Dove listed over before the heavy wind, so 
 that her scuppers were a foot deep in water ; while opening the 
 gangway only relieved the pressure for a second or two ; the next 
 moment a wave would surge in on the deck. The jib and fore 
 staysail were soaked half-mast high. When we were on the 
 port tack the keel of the gig ploughed the crests of those massive 
 and rolling waves. This would, indeed, have been a day for An- 
 gus Sutherland. 
 
 On one tack we ran right over to Corrievrechan ; but we could 
 see no water-spouts or other symptoms of the whirling currents ; 
 we could only hear the low roar all along the Scarba coast, and 
 watch the darting of the white foam up the face of the rocks. 
 And then away again on the port tack ; with the women clinging 
 desperately to the weather bulwarks, lest perchance they should 
 swiftly glide down the gleaming decks into the hissing water that 
 rolled along the lee scuppers. Despite the fact of their being 
 clad from top to toe in water-proofs, their faces were streaming 
 with the salt-water ; but they were w arm enough, for the sun was 
 blazing hot, and the showers of spray were like showers of gleam- 
 ing diamonds. 
 
 Luncheon was of an extremely pantomimic character ; until, in 
 the midst of it, we were alarmed by hearing quick tramping over- 
 head, and noise and shouting. The Youth was hastily bidden to 
 leave his pickle-jars, and go on deck to see what was happening. 
 In a second or two he returned, somewhat grueful — his hair wild, 
 his face W'Ct. 
 
 " They are only taking in the mizzen," says he ; " but my cap 
 has been knocked overboard, and I have got about a quart of wa- 
 ter down my neck." 
 
 " It will do ye good, lad," observed the Laird, in the most 
 heartless manner ; " and I will now trouble ye to pass me the 
 marmalade." 
 
 Patiently, all day long, we beat up against that inexorable north 
 wind, until, in the afternoon, it veered a point or two to the east, 
 which made an appreciable difference in our rate of progress. 
 Then, the farther the wind veered, the more it became a land- 
 wind ; and the sea abated considerably ; so that long before we
 
 2S4 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 could mate out Castle Osprey on tlie face of the hill, we were in 
 fairly calm waters, with a light breeze on our starboard beam. 
 The hot sun had dried the decks ; there was a possibility of walk- 
 ing ; some went below to prepare for going ashore. 
 
 We were returning to the world of telegrams, and letters, and 
 newspapers ; we should soon know what the Commissioners of 
 Strathgovan were doing, and whether Johnny Guthrie had been 
 fomenting sedition. But it was not these things that troubled 
 the Laird. He had been somewhat meditative during the after- 
 noon. At last, finding an occasion on which nearly everybody 
 was below but his hostess, he said to her, in a low voice, 
 
 " The more I reflect on that matter we spoke of this morning, 
 the more I am driven to a conclusion that I would fain avoid. 
 It would be a sad blow to me. I have built much on the scheme 
 I was telling ye of : perhaps it was but a toy ; but old people 
 have a fondness for their toys as well as young people." 
 
 " I don't quite understand you, sir," said the other. 
 
 *' We will soon learn whether I am rights" said the old Laird, 
 with a sigh ; and then he turned to her and regarded her. 
 
 " I doubt whether ye see this girl's character as clearly as I 
 do," said he. " Gentle, and soft, and delicate as she seems to be, 
 she is of the stuff the martyrs in former days were made of : if 
 she believes a thing to be right, she will do it at any cost or sac- 
 rifice. Do ye mind the first evening I met her at your house — 
 how she sat and talked and laughed, with her sprained ankle 
 swollen and black all the time, just that she might not interfere 
 with the pleasure of others ?" 
 
 The Laird paused for a moment or two. 
 
 " I have been putting things together," he continued — but he 
 did not seem proud or boastful of his perspicacity : perhaps he 
 would rather have fought against the conclusion forced on him. 
 *' When she was up in the North, it seemed to you as if she 
 would have married the young man Sutherland ?" 
 
 " Most undoubtedly." 
 
 " The lass had her bit fortune then," said the Laird, thought- 
 fully. "Not much, as yc say; but it would have been an inde- 
 pendence. It would have helped him on in the world; it would 
 have left him free. And she is proud of what he has done, and 
 as ambcctious as liimsclf that he should become a great man. 
 Ay."
 
 CERTAINTY. 285 
 
 The Laird seemed very anxious about the varnishing of the 
 gig : he kept smoothing it ^vith his forefinger. 
 
 "And when he came to her the other day — it is but a guess of 
 mine, ma'am — she may have said to herself beforehand that she 
 would not be a drag on him ; that she would leave him free to be- 
 come great and famous ; that the sentiment of the moment was 
 a trifling thing compared to what the world expected from Dr. 
 Sutherland. Ye will not forget what she said on that point only 
 the other day. And she may have sent him away — with her own 
 heart just like to break. I have just been putting one or two 
 possibeelities together, ma'am — " 
 
 The color had forsaken the cheeks of the woman who stood by 
 his side. 
 
 "And — and — if she was so cruel — and — and heartless — and — 
 and monstrous — she ought to be horsewhipped !" she exclaimed, 
 quite breathlessly, and apparently not knowing what she was 
 saying. 
 
 But the Laird shook his head. 
 
 " Poor lass ! poor lass !" he said, gently ; " she has had her 
 troubles. No doubt the loss of her bit fortune seemed a desper- 
 ate thing to her ; and you know her first anxiety is conteenually 
 for other people — particularly them that have been kind to her — 
 and that she thinks no more of herself than if she had no feelings 
 at all. Well, ma'am, if what I am guessing at is true — it is only 
 a speculation o' mine, and I am far from sure ; but if that is all 
 that has to be put right, I'm thinking it might be put right. 
 We should thank God that we are now and again able to put 
 some small matter straight in the world." 
 
 The Laird was more busy than ever with the varnish, and he 
 went nearer the boat. His fingers were nervous, and there was a 
 strange, sad look in the sunken gray eyes. 
 
 " Poor lass ! if that is all her trouble, it might not be difficult 
 to help her," said he ; and then he added, slowly — and the woman 
 beside him knew, rather than saw, that the sad gray eyes were 
 somehow wet : " But I had thought to see her living at Denny- 
 mains. It was — it was a sort of toy of my old age."
 
 286 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 A PARABLE. 
 
 Now we had not been five minutes within the walls of Castle 
 Osprey when great shouts of laughter were heard in the direc- 
 tion of the library ; and presently the Laird came quickly into 
 the room where the two women were standing at the open win- 
 dow. He was flourishing a newspaper in his hand ; delight, sar- 
 casm, and desperate humor shone in his face. He would not no- 
 tice that Queen Titania looked very much inclined to cry, as she 
 gazed out on the forlorn remains of what had once been a rose- 
 garden ; he would pay no heed to Mary Avon's wan cheek and 
 pensive eyes. 
 
 "Just listen to this, ma'am — just listen to this!" he called out, 
 briskly ; and all the atmosphere of the room seemed to wake up 
 into cheerfulness and life. " Have I not told ye often about that 
 extraordinary body, Johnny Guthrie ? Now just listen." 
 
 It appeared that the Laird, without even bestowing a glance 
 on the pile of letters lying waiting for him, had at once dived 
 into the mass of newspapers, and had succeeded in fishing out 
 the report of the last meeting of the Strathgovan Police Com- 
 missioners. With a solemnity that scarcely veiled his suppressed 
 mirth, he said, 
 
 "Just listen, ma'am : 'The fortnightly meeting of the Strath- 
 govan Police Commissioners was held on Monday, Provost Mc- 
 Kendrick in the chair. Mr. Robert Johnstone said he had much 
 pleasure in congratulating the chairman and the other gentle- 
 men assembled on the signal and able manner in which the fire- 
 brigade had done their duty on the previous Saturday at the great 
 conflagration in Coulter-side buildings; and he referred especial- 
 ly to the immense assistance given by the new fire-engine recent- 
 ly purchased by the Commissioners. (Hear! hear!) He could 
 assure tlie meeting that but for the zealous and patriotic ardor 
 of the brigade — aided, no doubt, by the eflicient working of the 
 steam-engine — a most valuable property wuuld have been devoted 
 holus bolus to the flames.' "
 
 A PAllABLE. 287 
 
 The Laird frowned at this phrase. 
 
 "Docs the crayture think he is talking Latin ?" he asked, ap- 
 parently of himself. 
 
 Ilowever, he continned his reading of the report : 
 
 " ' Provost McKendrick, replying to these observations, ob- 
 served that it was certainly a matter for congratulation that the 
 fire-brigade should have proved their efficiency in so distinct a 
 manner, considering the outlay that had been incurred ; and that 
 now the inhabitants of the Burgh would perceive the necessity 
 of having more plugs. So far all the money had been well spent. 
 Mr. J. Guthrie — ' " But here the Laird could not contain his 
 laughter any longer. 
 
 " That's Johnny, ma'am," he cried, in explanation ; " that's the 
 Johnny Guthrie I was telling ye about — the poor, yaumering, 
 pernickity, querulous crayture ! ' Mr. J. Guthrie begged to say 
 he could not join in these general felicitations. They were mak- 
 ing a great deal of noise about nothing. The fire was no fire at 
 all ; a servant-girl could have put it out with a pail. He had 
 come from Glasgow by the eleven o'clock 'bus, and there was 
 then not a trace of a fire to be seen. The real damage done 
 to the property was not done by the fire, but by the dirty water 
 drawn by the fire-brigade from the Coulter burn, which dirty water 
 had entirely destroyed Mrs. MacLines's best bedroom furniture.' " 
 
 The Laird flourished the newspaper, and laughed aloud in his 
 joy — the mere reading of the extract had so thoroughly discom- 
 fited his enemy. 
 
 "Did ye ever hear the like o' that body ?" he cried. "A snarl- 
 in', quarlin', gruntin', growlin', fashions crayture ! He thinks there 
 could not be any fire, just because he was not in time to see it. 
 Oh, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, I'm just fair ashamed o' ye !" 
 
 But at this point the Laird seemed to become aware that he 
 had given way too much to his love of pure and pithy English. 
 He immediately said, in a more formal manner, 
 
 " I am glad to perceive, ma'am, that the meeting paid no heed 
 to these strictures, but went on to consider whether the insurance 
 companies should not share the expense of maintaining the fire- 
 brigade. That was most proper — most judeecious. I'm think- 
 ing that after dinner I could not do better than express my views 
 upon that subject, in a letter addressed to the Provost. It would 
 be in time to be read at the monthly sederunt."
 
 288 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " Come along, then, Mary, and let us get through our letters," 
 said his hostess, turning away with a sigh from the dilapidated 
 rose-garden. 
 
 As she passed the piano she opened it. 
 
 " How strange it will sound !" she said. 
 
 She played a few bars of Mary Avon's favorite song : somehow 
 the chords seemed singularly rich and full and beautiful after 
 our long listening to the monotonous rush of the sea. Then she 
 put her hand within the girl's arm and gently led her away, and 
 said to her, as they passed through the hall, 
 
 " ' Oh, little did my mither think, 
 When first she cradled me,' 
 
 that ever I should have come back to such a picture of desola- 
 tion. But we must put a brave face on it. If the autumn kills 
 the garden, it glorifies the hills. You will want all your color- 
 tubes when we show you Loch Hourn." 
 
 " That was the place the doctor was anxious to vcesit," said 
 the Laird, who was immediately behind them. "Ay. Oh yes, 
 we will show Miss Mary Loch llourn ; she will get some material 
 for sketches there, depend on't. Just the finest loch in the whole 
 of the Uighlands. When I can get Tom Galbraith first of all 
 persuaded to see Bunessan — " 
 
 But we heard no more about Tom Galbraith. Queen Titania 
 had uttered a slight exclamation as she glanced over the addresses 
 of the letters directed to her. 
 
 "From Angus!" she said, as she hurriedly opened one of the 
 envelopes, and ran lier eye over the contents. 
 
 Then her face grew grave, and inadvertently she turned to the 
 Laird. 
 
 " In three days," she said, " he was to start for Italy." 
 
 She looked at the date. 
 
 "He must have left London already," said she; and then she 
 examined the letter further. "And he does not say where he is 
 going." 
 
 The Laird looked grave too — for a second. T^ut he was an ex- 
 cellent actor. lie began whistling tlie air that his hostess had 
 been playing. He turned over his letters and papers carelessly. 
 At length he said, with an air of fine indifference, 
 
 " The grand thing of being away at sea is to teach ye the com-
 
 A PARABLE. 289 
 
 parateevely trifling importance of an3'thing tliat can happen on 
 land." 
 
 lie tossed the unopened letters about, only regarding the ad- 
 dresses. 
 
 " What care I what the people may have been saying about 
 me in my absence ? — the real thing is that we got food to eat, 
 and were not swept into Corrievrechan. Come, Miss Mary, I will 
 just ask ye to go for a stroll through the garden wi' me until 
 dinner-time ; our good friends will not ask us to dress on an even- 
 ing like this, just before we have got everything on shore. Twen- 
 ty-five meenutcs, ma'am ? Very well. If anybody has been abus- 
 ing me in my absence, we'll listen to the poor fellow after dinner, 
 when we can get the laugh made general, and so make some good 
 out of him ; but just now we'll have the quiet of the sunset to 
 ourselves. Dear, dear me ! we used to have the sunset after din- 
 ner when we were away up about Canna and Uist." 
 
 Mary Avon seemed to hesitate. 
 
 "What! not a single letter for ye? That shows very bad 
 taste on the pairt of the young men about England. But I 
 never thought much o' them. From what I hear, they are mostly 
 given over to riding horses, and shooting pheasants, and what not. 
 But never mind. I want ye to come out for a stroll wi' me, my 
 lass; ye'U see some fine color about the Morven hills presently, 
 or I'm mistaken." 
 
 " Very well, sir," said she, obediently ; and together they went 
 out into the garden. 
 
 Now it was not until some minutes after the dinner-gong had 
 sounded that we again saw these two, and then there was nothing 
 in the manner of either of them to suggest to any one that any- 
 thing had happened. It was not until many days afterward that 
 we obtained, bit by bit, an account of what had occurred, and even 
 then it was but a stammering and disjointed and shy account. 
 However, such as it was, it had better appear here, if only to keep 
 the narrative straight. 
 
 The Laird, walking up and down the gravol-path with his com- 
 panion, said that he did not so much regret the disapi)earance of 
 the roses, for there were plenty of other flowers to take their 
 place. Then he thought he and she might go and sit on a seat 
 which was placed under a drooping ash in the centre of the 
 lawn, for from this point they commanded a fine view of the 
 
 14
 
 290 WHITE WINGS : a yachting romance. 
 
 western seas and liills. They had just sat down there when he 
 said, 
 
 " My girl, I am going to take the privik^ge of an old man, and 
 speak frankly to ye. I have been watching ye, as it were — and 
 yonr mind is not at ease." 
 
 Miss Avon hastily assured him that it was quite, and begged to 
 draw his attention to the yacht in the bay, where the men were 
 just lowering the ensign, at sunset. 
 
 The Laird returned to the subject ; entreated her not to take 
 it ill that he should interfere ; and then reminded her of a cer- 
 tain night on Loch Leven, and of a promise he had then made 
 her. AVould he be fulfilling that solemn undertaking if he did 
 not, at some risk of vexing her, and of being considered a prying, 
 foolish person, endeavor to help her if she was in trouble ? 
 
 Miss Avon said how grateful she was to him for all his kind- 
 ness to her, and how his promise had already been amply fulfill- 
 ed. She was not in trouble. She hoped no one thought that. 
 Everything that had happened was for the best. And here — as 
 was afterward admitted — she burst into a fit of crj ing, and was 
 very much mortified and ashamed of herself. 
 
 But at this point the Laird would appear to have taken mat- 
 ters into his own hand. First of all he began to speak of his 
 nephew — of his bright good-nature, and so forth — of his professed 
 esteem for her — of certain possibilities that he, the Laird, had been 
 dreaming about with the fond fancy of an old man. And rath- 
 er timidly he asked her if ft were true that she thought every- 
 thing had happened for the best — whether, after all, his nephew 
 Howard might not speak to her? It had been the dream of 
 his old age to see these two together at Denny-mains, or on board 
 that steam-yacht lie would buy for them on the Clyde. Was 
 that not possible ? 
 
 Here, at least, the girl was honest and earnest enough — even 
 anxiously earnest. She assured him that that was quite impossi- 
 ble — it was hopeless. The Laird remained silent for some min- 
 utes, holding her hand. 
 
 "Then," said he, rather sadly, l)ut with an afEectation of grave 
 humor, " I am going to tell you a story. It is about a young 
 lass who was very proud, and who kc])t her thoughts very much 
 to herself, and would not give her friends a chance of helping 
 her. And she was very fond of — a young Prince, we will call
 
 A PARABLE. 291 
 
 liiin — who wanted to go away to the wars, and make a great 
 name for himself. No one was prouder of the Prince than the 
 girl, mind ye, and she encouraged him in everything, and they 
 were great friends, and slic was to give him all her diamonds, and 
 pearls, and necklaces — she would throw them into his treasury, 
 like a Roman matron — just that he might go away and conquer, 
 and come back and marry her. But lo, and behold ! one night 
 all her jewels and bracelets were stolen ! Then what does she 
 do? Would ye believe it? she goes and quarrels with that 
 young Prince, and tells him to go away and fight his battles for 
 himself, and never to come back and see her any more — just as 
 if any one could fight a battle wi' a sore heai't. Oh, she was a 
 wicked, wicked lass, to be so proud as that, when she had many 
 friends that would willingly have helped her! . . . Sit down, my 
 girl — sit down, my girl ; never mind the dinner ; they can wait 
 for us. . . . Well, ye see, the story goes on that there was an old 
 man — a foolish old man — they used to laugh at him because of 
 his fine fishing-tackle, and the very few fish he caught wi' the 
 tackle — and this doited old body was always intermeddling in 
 other people's business. And what do you think he does but go 
 &nd say to the young lass, ' Ha ! have I found ye out ? Is it left 
 for an old man like me — and me a bachelor, too, who should 
 know but little of the quips and cranks of a young lass's ways — 
 is it left for an old man like me to find out that fine secret o' 
 yours V She could not say a word. She was dumfounded. She 
 had not the face to deny it. He ^ad found out what that wicked 
 girl, with all her pride, and her martyrdom, and her sprained 
 ankles, had been about. And what do you think he did then ? 
 Why, as sure as sure can be, he had got all the young lass's prop- 
 erty in his pocket ; and before she could say Jack Robinson, he 
 tells her that he is going to send straight off for the Prince — 
 this very night — a telegram to London — " 
 
 The girl had been trembling, and struggling with the hand that 
 held hers. At last she sprung to her feet, with a cry of entreaty : 
 
 " Oh no, no, no, sir ! You will not do that ! You will not 
 degrade me 1" 
 
 And then — this is her own account, mind — the Laird rose too, 
 and still held her by the hand, and spoke sternly to her. 
 
 "Degrade you?" said he. "Foolish lass! Come in to your 
 dinner."
 
 292 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 When these two did come in to dinner — nearly a quarter of 
 an hour late — their hostess looked anxiously from one to the 
 other ; but what could she perceive ? Mary Avon was some- 
 what pale, and she was silent ; but that had been her way of late. 
 As for the Laird, he came in whistling the tune of the Queen's 
 Maries, which was a strange grace before meat, and he looked air- 
 ily around him at the walls. 
 
 "I would just like to know," said he, lightly, " whether there 
 is a single house in all Scotland where ye will not find an en- 
 graving of one or other of Mr. Thomas Faed's pictures in some 
 one of the rooms ?" 
 
 And he preserved this careless and indifferent demeanor dur- 
 ing dinner. After dinner he strolled into the library. He would 
 venture upon a small cigar. His sole companion was the per- 
 son whose humble duty in this household is to look after 
 financial matters, so that other folks may enjoy themselves in 
 idleness. 
 
 The Laird lay back in an easy-chair, stretched out his legs, lit 
 his cigar, and held it at ai-m's-length, as if it were something that 
 ought to be looked at at a distance. 
 
 "You had something to do with the purchase of Miss Mary's 
 American stock, eh ?" said he, pretending to be concerned about 
 the end of the cigar. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 " Funded Five per Cent." ' 
 
 "What would be about the value of it now?" 
 
 "Just now ? Oh, perhaps lOG or 107." 
 
 " No, no, no ! I mean, if the bonds that that ill-faured scoon- 
 drel carried away with him were to be sold the now, what money, 
 what English money, would they fetch ?" 
 
 ]>ut this required some calculation. 
 
 "Probably about £7800." 
 
 " I was asking," said the Laird, " because I was wondering 
 whether there was any chance of tracing them." 
 
 "Not the least. They are like bank-notes — more useful, in- 
 deed, to a swindler than even bank-notes." 
 
 " Ay, is that so ?" said the Laird ; and he seemed to be so 
 charmed with his whistling of the air of tlic Qaeen's Maries that 
 he returned to that performance. Oddly enough, liowevcr, he
 
 A RELEASE. 293 
 
 never ventured beyond tlie first line : perhaps he was afraid of 
 missing the tune. 
 
 " Seven thousand three hundred," said he, meditatively. " Man, 
 that's a strong cigar — little, and black, and strong, like a llie- 
 lander. Seven thousand tbree hundred. Girls are strange crayt- 
 nres. I remember what that young doctor was saying once about 
 weemen being better able to bear pain than men, and not so much 
 afraid of it either — " 
 
 And here the Queen's Maries came in again. 
 
 " It would be a strange thing," said the Laird, with a sort of 
 rueful laugh, " if I were to have a steam-yacht all to myself, and 
 cruise about in search of companj', eh ? No, no ; that will not 
 do. My neighbors in Strathgovan will never say that I deserted 
 them, just when great improvements and serious work have to be 
 looked forward to. I will not have it said that I ran away just 
 to pleasure myself. Howard, my lad, I doubt but ye'll have to 
 whistle for that steam-yacht." 
 
 The Laird rose. 
 
 " I think I will smoke in the garden now : it is a fine even- 
 ing." 
 
 He turned at the door, and seemed suddenl}' to perceive a pair 
 of stag's horns over the chimney-piece. 
 
 " That's a grand set o' horns," said he ; and then he added, 
 carelessly, "What bank did ye say they American bonds were 
 in ?" 
 
 " The London and Westminster." 
 
 " They're just a noble pair o' horns," said he, emphatically. 
 " I wonder ye do not take them with ye to London." And then 
 he left. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 A RELEASE. 
 
 We had a long spell ashore at this time, for we were meditat- 
 ing a protracted voyage, and everything had to be left ship-shape 
 behind us. The Laird was busy from morning till night ; but it 
 would appear that all his attention was not wholly given to the 
 aifairs of Strathgovan. Occasionally he surprised his hostess by
 
 294 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 questions which had not the least reference to asphalt pave- 
 ments or gymnasium chains. He kept his own counsel, never- 
 theless. 
 
 By-and-by his mysterious silence so piqued and provoked her 
 that she seized a favorable opportunity for asking him point- 
 blank whether he had not spoken to Mary Avon. They were in 
 the garden at the time ; he seated on an iron scat, with a bundle 
 of papers beside him, she standing on the gravel-path, with some 
 freshly-cut flowers in her hand. There was a little color in her 
 face, for she feared that the question might be deemed imperti- 
 nent ; yet, after all, it was no idle curiosity that prompted her to 
 ask it. Was she not as much interested in the girl's happiness 
 as any one could be ? 
 
 " I have," said he, looking up at her calmly. 
 
 Well, she knew that. Was this all the answer she was to get ? 
 
 "I beg your pardon, ma'am," said he, after a second, "if I 
 seem to be making a mystery where there is no mystery. I 
 hate all foolishness like that. I do not myself believe there is 
 anything of tbe kind ; but I will just ask ye to wait for a day or 
 two before speaking to the lass herself. After that, 1 will leave 
 it all in your hands. I trust ye will consider that I have done 
 my part." 
 
 " Oh, I am sure of that, sir," said she ; though how could she 
 bo sure ? 
 
 " There is not much I would not do for that lass," said he, 
 somewhat absently. " She has a wonderful way of getting a 
 grip of one's heart, as it were. And if I could have wished 
 that things had turned out otherwise — " 
 
 The Laird did not finish the sentence. He seemed to rouse 
 himself. 
 
 " Toots ! toots !" said he, frowning. " When we are become 
 men, we have to put away childish things. Wliat is the use of 
 crying for the moon ? There, ma'am, is something serious and 
 practical to consider — something better worth considering than 
 childish dreams and fancies." 
 
 And then, with much lucidity, and with a most dispassionate 
 parade of arguments on both sides, he put before her this knotty 
 question : Whether it was a fit and proper thing for a body like 
 the Strathgovan Commissioners to own public-house property? 
 That was the general question. The immediate question was
 
 A RELEASE. 295 
 
 wlicther tlic "William Wallace" public -house, situated in the 
 Nethcrbiggins road, should be relet or summarily closed. On 
 the one hand, it was contended that the closing of the " Wil- 
 liam AVallace" would only produce a greater run on the other 
 licensed houses; on the other hand, it was urged that a body 
 like the Commissioners should set an example, and refuse to en- 
 courage a mischievous traffic. Now the Laird's own view of the 
 liquor question — which he always put forward modestly, as sub- 
 ject to the opinion of those who had had a wider legislative and 
 administrative experience than himself — was that the total sup- 
 pression of the liquor traffic was a chimera, and that a practical 
 man should turn to see what could be done in the way of strin- 
 gent police regulations. He was proceeding to expound these 
 points, when he suddenly caught sight of the Youth, who had 
 appeared at the gate with two long fishing-rods over his shoul- 
 der. He dropped his voice. 
 
 "That just reminds me, ma'am," said he. "I am greatly 
 obliged to ye — my nephew equally so — for your great kindness 
 to him. I think it will not be necessary for him to trespass on 
 your forbearance any longer," 
 
 " I don't quite understand you." 
 
 "I think I will let him go back to his own pursuits now," said 
 the Laird. 
 
 "Oh no," she said. "By all means let him come with us to 
 Stornoway. He has been very good in not grumbling over any 
 inconvenience. You would not send him away just as we are 
 going to start on our longest cruise ?" 
 
 She could not say anything further at the moment, for the 
 Youth came up the gravel -path, and threw the two huge rods 
 on to the lawn. 
 
 " Look there, uncle !" he cried. " I don't care what size of 
 lithe you get on the line, I'll bet those rods won't break, anyway. 
 Sutherland used to be lamenting over the big fish you lost up in 
 the North ; try them with those things." 
 
 Here their hostess passed on and into the house with her flow- 
 ers. Uncle and nephew were left by themselves. 
 
 " Howard, lad," said the elder of the two men, " bring that 
 chair over, and sit opposite me. I do not want my papers to be 
 disturbed. There are one or two matters of business I would 
 like to put before ye."
 
 296 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 Tlie Youth did as he was bid. The Laird paused for a second 
 or two, then he began : 
 
 " When I asked yc to come to the Highlands," said he, slow- 
 ly, " I put an alternative before ye, with certain consequences. 
 There were two things, one of which I wanted ye to do. Ye 
 have done neither." 
 
 Howard Smith looked somewhat alarmed : his hostess was not 
 there to put a jocular air over that bargain. 
 
 " Well, sir," he stammered, " I — I could not do what was im- 
 possible. I — have done my best." 
 
 " Nevertheless," said the Laird, in a matter-of-fact way, " nei- 
 ther has been done. I will not say it has been altogether your 
 fault. So far as I have seen, ye have been on very good terms 
 with the young leddy ; and — and — yes, paid her what attention 
 was expected of ye ; and — " 
 
 " Well, you see, uncle," he interposed, eagerly, " what was the 
 use of my proposing to the girl only to be snubbed? Don't I 
 know she cares no more about me than about the man in the 
 moon ? Why, anybody could see that. Of course, you know, if 
 you insist on it — if you drive me to it — if you want me to go in 
 and get snubbed — I'll do it. I'll take ray chance. But I don't 
 think it's fair. I mean," he added, hastily, " I don't think it is 
 necessary." 
 
 " I do not wish to drive ye to anything," said the Laird — on 
 any other occasion he might have laughed at the Youth's ingen- 
 uousness, but now he had serious business on hand. " I am con- 
 tent to take things as they are. Neither of the objects I had in 
 view has been accomplished ; perhaps both were impossible ; who 
 can tell what lies in store for any of us, when we begin to plan 
 and scheme ? However, I am not disposed to regard it as your 
 fault. I will impose no fine or punishment, as if we were play- 
 ing at theatre-acting. I have neither kith nor kin of my own ; and 
 it is my wish that, at my death, Denny-mains should go to you." — 
 
 The Youth's face turned red ; yet he did not know how to ex- 
 press his gratitude. It did not quite seem a time for sentiment ; 
 the Laird was talking in such a matter-of-fact way. 
 
 " Subject to certain conditions," he continued. " First of all, 
 I spoke some time ago of spending a sum of £3000 on a steam- 
 yacht. Dismiss that from your mind. I cannot afford it ; nei- 
 ther will you be able."
 
 A RELEASE. 29*7 
 
 The young man stared at this. P'or although he cared very 
 little about the steam-yacht — having a less liking for the sea than 
 some of us — he was surprised to hear that a sum like £3000 was 
 even a matter for consideration to a reputedly rich man like his 
 uncle. 
 
 "Oh certainly, sir," said he. " I don't at all want a steam-yacht." 
 
 " Very well ; we will now proceed." 
 
 The Laird took up one of the documents beside him, and be- 
 gan to draw certain lines on the back of it. 
 
 " Ye will remember," said he, pointing with his pencil, " that 
 where the estate proper of Denny-mains runs out to the Coulter- 
 burn road there is a piece of land belonging to me, on which are 
 two tenements, yielding together, I should say, about £300 a year. 
 By-and-by, if a road should be cut so — across to the Netherbig- 
 gins road — that land will be more valuable ; many a one will be 
 wanting to feu that piece then, mark my words. However, let 
 that stand by. In the mean time I have occasion for a sum of 
 ten thousand three hundred pounds — " 
 
 The Youth looked still more alarmed : had his uncle been 
 speculating ? 
 
 " — and I have considered it my duty to ask you, as the future 
 proprietor of Denny-mains in all human probability, whether ye 
 would rather have these two tenements sold, with as much of the 
 adjoining land as would make up that sum, or whether ye would 
 have the sum made a charge on the estate generally, and take 
 your chance of that land rising in value ? What say ye?" 
 
 The Laird had been prepared for all this ; but the Youth was 
 not. lie looked rather frightened. 
 
 " I should be sorry to hear, sir," he stammered, " that — that 
 you were pressed for money." 
 
 " Pressed for money !" said the Laird, severely ; " I am not 
 pressed for money. There is not a square yard of Denny-mains 
 with a farthing of mortgage on it. Come, let's hear what ye 
 have to say." 
 
 "Then," said the young man, collecting his wits, "my opinion 
 is that a man should do what he likes with his own." 
 
 " That's well said," returned the Laird, much mollified. " And 
 I'm no sure but that, if we were to roup* that land, that quarrel- 
 
 * To ro?<p, to sell by public auction. 
 14*
 
 298 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 some body Johnny Guthrie might not be trying to buy it; and 
 I would not liave him for a neighbor on any consideration. Well, 
 I will write to Todd & Buchanan about it at once." 
 
 The Laird rose and began to bundle his papers together. The 
 Youth laid hold of the fishing-rods, and was about to carry them 
 off somewhere, when he was suddenly called back. 
 
 " Dear me !" said the Laird, " my memory's going. There was 
 another thing I was going to put before ye, lad. Our good friends 
 here have been very kind in asking ye to remain so long. I'm 
 thinking ye might offer to give up your state-room before they 
 start on this long trip. Is there any business or occupation ye 
 would like to be after in the South ?" 
 
 The flash of light that leaped to the young man's face ! 
 
 " Why, uncle," he exclaimed, eagerly, diving his hand into his 
 pocket, " I have twice been asked by old Barnes to go to his 
 place — the best partridge-shooting in Bedfordshire — " 
 
 But the Youth recollected himself. 
 
 " I mean," said he, seriously, " Barnes, the swell solicitor, don't 
 you know — Hughes, Barnes & Barnes. It would be an uncom- 
 monly good thing for me to stand well with them. They are 
 just the making of a young fellow at the Bar when they take 
 him up. Old Barnes's son was at Cambridge with me ; but he 
 doesn't do anything — an idle fellow — cares for nothing but 
 shooting and billiards. I really ought to cultivate old Barnes." 
 
 The Laird eyed him askance. 
 
 " Off ye go to your partridge-shooting, and make no more pre- 
 tence," said he ; and then he added, " And look here, my lad — 
 when ye leave this house I hope ye will express in a proper form 
 your thanks for the kindness ye have received. No, no ; I do not 
 like the way of you English in that respect. Ye take no notice 
 of anything. Ye receive a man's hospitality for a Avcek, a fort- 
 night, a month ; and then ye shake hands with him at the door, 
 and walk out, as if nothing had happened ! These niay'be good- 
 manners in England ; they are not here." 
 
 " I can't make a speech, uncle," said tlio Youth, slyly. " They 
 don't teach us those things at the English public schools." 
 
 " Ye gowk !" said the Laird, severely, " do you think I want ye 
 to make a speech, like Norval on the Grampian Hills? I want 
 ye to express in proper language your thankfulness for the atten- 
 tion and kindness that have been bestowed on ye. What arc yo
 
 "while the ripples fold upon sands of gold." 299 
 
 afraid of ? Have ye not got a mouth ? From all that I can hear, 
 the English have a wonderful fluency of speech, when there is no 
 occasion for it at all — bletlierin away like twenty steam-engines, 
 and not a grain of wheat to be found when a' the stour is laid." 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 *' while the ripples fold upon sands of gold." 
 
 The days passed, and still the Laird professed to be profound- 
 ly busy ; and our departure for the North was further and fur- 
 ther postponed. The Youth had at first expressed his intention 
 of waiting to see us off ; which was very kind on his part, con- 
 sidering how anxious he was to cultivate the acquaintance of that 
 important solicitor. His patience, however, at last gave out, and 
 he begged to be allowed to start on a certain morning. The 
 evening before we walked down to the shore with him, and got 
 pulled out to the yacht, and sat on deck while he went below to 
 pack such things as had been left in his state-room. 
 
 " It will be a strange thing," said our gentle Admiral-in-chief, 
 " for us to have a cabin empty. That has never happened to us 
 in the Highlands all the time we have been here. It will be a 
 sort of ghost's room ; we shall not dare to look into it for fear 
 of seeing something to awaken old memories." 
 
 She put her hand in her pocket, and drew out some small 
 object. 
 
 " Look !" said she, quite sentimentally. 
 
 It was only a bit of pencil : if it had been the skull of Socra- 
 tes, she could not have regarded it with a greater interest. 
 
 " It is the pencil Angus used to mark our games with. I 
 found it in the saloon the day before yesterday ;" and then she 
 added, almost to herself, " I wonder where he is now ?" 
 
 The answer to this question startled us. 
 
 " In Paris," said the Laird. 
 
 But no sooner had he uttered the words than he seemed some- 
 what embarrassed. 
 
 "That is, I believe so," he said, hastily. " I am not in corre- 
 spondence with him. I do not know for certain. I have heard
 
 300 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 — it lias been stated to me — -that lie raiglit perhaps remain until 
 the end of this week in Paris before going on to Naples." 
 
 He appeared rather anxious to avoid being further questioned. 
 He began to discourse upon certain poems of Burns, whom he 
 had once or twice somewhat slightingly treated. He was now 
 bent on making ample amends. In especial, he asked whether 
 his hostess did not remember the beautiful verse in " Mary Mor- 
 ison," which describes the lover looking on at the dancing of a 
 number of young people, and conscious' only that his own sweet- 
 heart is not there. 
 
 " Do ye remember it, ma'am ?" said he ; and he proceeded to 
 repeat it for her : 
 
 " ' Yestreen, when to the trembling string 
 
 The dance gaed through the lighted ha', 
 To thee my fancy took its wing ; 
 
 I sat, but neither heard nor saw. 
 Though this was fair, and that was braw", 
 
 And yon the toast of a' the town, 
 I sighed, and said, amang them a', 
 
 " Ye are na Mary Morisou." ' 
 
 Beautiful, beautiful, is it not ? And that is an extraordinary busi- 
 ness — and as old as the hills, too — of one young person waling* 
 out another as the object of all the hopes of his or her life; 
 and nothing will do but that one. Ye may show them people 
 who are better to look at, richer, cleverer; ye may reason and 
 argue ; ye may make plans, and what not : it is all of no use. 
 And people who have grown up, and who forget what they them- 
 selves were at twenty or twenty-five, may say what they like about 
 the foolishness of a piece of sentiment; and they may prove to 
 the young folks that this madness will not last, and that they 
 should marry for more substantial reasons ; but ye are jist talk- 
 ing to the wind ! Madness or not madness, it is human nature ; 
 and ye might jist as well try to fight against the tides. I will 
 say this, too," continued the Laird, and as he wanned to his sub- 
 ject he rose and began to pace up and down the deck, " if a 
 young man were to come and tell me that he was ready to throw 
 up a love-match for the sake of prudence and worldly advantage, 
 I would say to him, ' Man, ye are a poor crayture. Yc have not 
 
 * Waling — choosing.
 
 "WHILE THE RIPPLES FOLD UPON SANDS OF GOLD." 301 
 
 got the backbone of a mouse in ye!' I have no respect for a 
 young n)an who has prudence beyond his years ; not one bit. If 
 it is human nature for a man at fifty years to laugh at sentiment 
 and romance, it is human nature for a man at twenty-five to be- 
 lieve in them ; and he who does not believe in them then, I say, 
 is a poor crayture. lie will never come to anything. He may 
 make money ; but he will be a poor stupid ass all his days, just 
 without those experiences that make life a beautiful thing to look 
 back on." 
 
 He came and sat down by Mary Avon. 
 
 " Perhaps a sad thing, too," said he, as he took her hand in 
 his; "but even that is better than a dull causeway, with an ani- 
 mal trudging along, and sorely burdened with the world's wealth. 
 And now, my lass, have ye got everything tight and trim for the 
 grand voyage ?" 
 
 " She has been at it again, sir," said his hostess, interposing. 
 *' She wants to set out for the South to-morrow morning." 
 
 " It would be a convenient chance for me," said the girl, sim- 
 ply. " Mr. Smith might be good enough to see me as far as 
 Greenock — though, indeed, I don't at all mind travelling by my- 
 self. I must stop at Kendal — is that where the junction is ? — for 
 I promised the poor old woman who died in Edinburgh that I 
 would call and see some relations of hers who live near Winder- 
 mere." 
 
 " They can wait, surely," said the Laird, with frowning eye- 
 brows, as if the poor people at Windermere had attempted to do 
 him some deadly injury. 
 
 " Oh, there is no hurry for them," said she. " They do not 
 even know that I am coming. But this chance of Mr. Smith go- 
 ing by the steamer to-morrow would be convenient." 
 
 " Put that fancy out of your head," said he, with decision. 
 "Ye are going to no Greenock, and to no Kendal, at the present 
 time. Ye are going away with us to the North, to see such 
 things as ye never saw before in your life. And if ye are anx- 
 ious to get on with your work, I'll tell ye what I'll do. There's 
 our Provost McKendrick has been many a time telling me of the 
 fine salmon-fishing he got at the west side of Lewis — I think he 
 said at a place called Gometra — " 
 
 " Griraersta," is here suggested. 
 
 " The very place. Ye shall paint a picture of Grimersta, my
 
 302 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 lass, on commission for the Provost, I authorize ye : if he will 
 not take it, I will take it myself. Never mind what the place is 
 like — the Provost has no more imagination than a boiled lobster ; 
 but he knows when he has good friends, and good fishing, and a 
 good glass of whiskey ; and, depend on it, he'll be proud to have 
 a picture of the place, on your own terms. I tell ye, I authorize 
 ye." 
 
 Here the Youth came on deck, saying he was now ready to go 
 asliore. 
 
 "Do you know, sir," said his hostess, rising, "what Mary has 
 been trying to get me to believe ? — that she is afraid of the equi- 
 noctials !" 
 
 The Laird laughed aloud. 
 
 "That is a good one — that is a good one!" he cried. "I never 
 heard a better story about Ilomesh." 
 
 " I know the gales are very wild here when they begin," said 
 Miss Avon, seriously. " Every one says so." 
 
 But the Laird only laughs the more, and is still chuckling to 
 himself as he gets down into the gig : the notion of Mary Avon 
 being afraid of anything — of fifteen dozen of equinoctial gales, 
 for example — was to him simply ludicrous. 
 
 But a marked and unusual change came over the Laird's man- 
 ner when we got back to Castle Osprey. During all the time he 
 had been with us, although he had had occasionally to administer 
 rebukes -with more or less of solemnity, he had never once lost 
 his temper. We should have imagined it impossible for any- 
 thing to have^ disturbed his serene dignity or demeanor. But 
 now — when he discovered that there was no letter awaiting any 
 one of us — his impatience seemed dangerously akin to vexation 
 and anger. He would have the servants summoned and cross- 
 examined. Then he would not believe them, but must needs 
 search the various rooms for himself. The afternoon post had 
 really brought nothing but a newspaper — addressed to the Laird 
 — and that he testily threw into the waste-paper basket without 
 o{)ening it. We had never seen him give way like this before. 
 
 At dinner, too, his temper was no better. He began to deride 
 the business habits of the Englisli people — which was barely civil. 
 He said that the English feared the Scotch and the Germans just 
 as the Americans feared the Chinese — because the latter were the 
 more indefatigable workers. He declare] that if the London
 
 "while the ripples fold upon sands of gold." 303 
 
 men had less Amontillado sherry and cigarettes in their private 
 otlicc-roonis, their business would be conducted with much great- 
 er accuracy and despatch. Then another thought struck him : 
 were the servants prepared to swear that no registered letter had 
 been presented in the afternoon, and taken away again because 
 there was no one in the bouse to sign the receipt? Inquiry be- 
 ing made, it was found that no such kHter had been presented. 
 But finally, when the turmoil about this wretched thing was at 
 its height, the Laird was pressed to say from which part of the 
 country the missive was expected. From London, he said. It 
 was then pointed out to him that the London letters were usual- 
 ly sent along in the evening — sometimes as late as eight or nine 
 o'clock. lie went on with his dinner, grumbling. 
 
 Sure enough, before he had finished dinner a footstep was 
 heard on the gravel outside. The Laird, without any apology, 
 jumped up and went to the window. 
 
 " There's the postman," said he, as he resumed his seat. " Ye 
 might give him a shilling, ma'am : it is a long climb up the 
 hill" 
 
 It was the postman, no doubt; and he had brought a letter, 
 but it was not for the Laird. AVe were all apprehensive of a 
 violent storm when the servant passed on and handed this letter 
 to Mary Avon. But the Laird said nothing. Miss Avon, like a 
 properly conducted school-girl, put the letter in her pocket. 
 
 There was no storm. On the contrary, the Laird got quite 
 cheerful. "When his hostess hoped that no serious inconvenience 
 would result from the non-arrival of the letter, he said, " Not the 
 least." He began and told us the story of the old lady who en- 
 deavored to engage the practical Homesh — while he was collect- 
 ing tickets — in a disquisition on the beauties of Highland sce- 
 nery, and who was abruptly bidden to "mind her own pussness." 
 We had heard the story not more than thirty-eight times, per- 
 haps, from various natives of Scotland. 
 
 But the letter about which the Laird had been anxious had — 
 as some of us suspected — actually arrived, and was then in Mary 
 Avon's pocket. After dinner the two women went into the 
 drawing-room. Miss Avon sat down to the piano and began to 
 play, idly enough, the air called " Ileimweh." Of what home 
 was she thinking then — this Avaif and stray among the winds of 
 the world ?
 
 304 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 Tea was brought in. At last the curiosity of the elder woman 
 could no longer be restrained. 
 
 " Mary," said she, "are you not going to read that letter?" 
 
 " Dear me !" said the girl, plunging into her pocket ; " I had 
 forgotten I had a letter to read." 
 
 She took it out and opened it, and began to read. Her face 
 looked puzzled at first, then alarmed. She turned to her friend, 
 
 " What is it ? What can it mean ?" she said, in blank dismay ; 
 and the trembling fingers handed her the letter. 
 
 Her friend had less difliculty in understanding; although, to 
 be sure, before she had finished this perfectly plain and matter- 
 of-fact communication there were tears in her eyes. It was 
 merely a letter from the manager of a bank in London, begging 
 to inform Miss Avon that he had just received, through Messrs. 
 Todd & Buchanan, of Glasgow, a sum of £10,300, to be placed 
 to her credit. He was also desired to say that this sum was en- 
 tirely at her own free disposal ; but the donor would prefer — if 
 she had no objection — that it should be invested in some home 
 security — either in a good mortgage or in the Metropolitan Board 
 of Works stock. It was a plain and simple letter. 
 
 "Oh, Mary, don't you understand — don't you understand?" 
 said she. "He meant to have given you a steam-yacht if — if 
 you married Howard Smith. He has given you all the money 
 you lost, and the steam-yacht too. And there is not a word of 
 regret about all his plans and schemes being destroyed. And 
 this is the man we have all been making fun of!" 
 
 In her conscious self-abasement she did not perceive how be- 
 wildered—how absolutely frightened — this girl was. Mary Avon 
 took back the letter mechanically ; she stood silent for a second 
 or two; then she said, almost in a whisper, 
 
 " Giving me all that money ! Oh, I cannot take it — I cannot 
 take it ! I should not have stayed here. I should not have told 
 him anything. I — I wish to go away." 
 
 But the common-sense of the elder woman came to her rescue. 
 She took the girl's hand firmly, and said, 
 
 " You shall not go away. And when it is your good-fortune 
 to meet with such a friend as that, you shall not wound him and 
 insult liira by refusing what he has given to you. No ; but you 
 will go at once and thank him." 
 
 " I cannot — I cannot !" she said, with both her hands trem-
 
 ^I^p.
 
 BACKWARD THOUGHTS. 305 
 
 bling. " What shall I say ? How can I thank him ? If he were 
 my own father or brother, how could I thank him ?" 
 
 Her friend left the room for a second, and returned. 
 
 " He is in the library alone," said she, " Go to liim. And do 
 not be so ungrateful as to even speak of refusing." 
 
 The girl had no time to compose any speech. She walked to 
 the library door, timidly tapped at it, and entered. The Laird 
 was seated in an easy-chair, reading. 
 
 When he saw her come in — he had been expecting a servant 
 with coffee, probably — he instantly put aside his book. 
 
 " Well, Miss Mary ?" said he, cheerfully. 
 
 She hesitated. She could not speak ; her throat was choking. 
 And then, scarcely knowing what she did, she sunk down before 
 him, and put her head and her hands on his knees, and burst out 
 crying and sobbing. And all that he could hear of any speech- 
 making, or of any gratitude or thanks, was only two words — 
 
 ''Ml/ father r 
 
 He put his hand gently on the soft black hair. 
 
 " Child," said he, " it is nothing. I have kept my word." 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 BACKWARD THOUGHTS. 
 
 That was a beautiful morning on which we got up at an un- 
 earthly hour to see the Youth depart — all of us, that is to say, 
 except Mary Avon. And yet she was not usually late. The 
 Laird could not understand it. He kept walking from one room 
 to another, or hovering about the hall ; and when the breakfast- 
 gong sounded, he refused to come in and take his place without 
 liis accustomed companion. But just at this moment whom 
 should he behold entering by the open door but Mary Avon her- 
 self — laden with her artistic impedimenta. He pounced on her 
 at once, and seized the canvas. 
 
 " Bless me, lassie, what have ye been about ? Have yc done 
 all this this morning? Ye must have got up in the middle of 
 the night !" 
 
 It was but a rough sketch, after all — or the beginnings of a
 
 306 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 sketch, rather — of tlie wide, beautiful sea and mountain view 
 from the garden of Castle Osprey. 
 
 " I thought, sir," said she, in a somewhat hesitating way, " that 
 you might, perhaps, be so kind as to accept from me those sketches 
 I have made on board the White Dove — and — and if they were 
 at Denny-mains, I should like to have the series complete — and — 
 and it would naturally begin with a sketch from the garden here — " 
 
 He looked at her for a moment, with a grave, perhaps wistful, 
 kindness in his face. 
 
 " My lass, I would rather have seen you at Denny-mains." 
 
 That was the very last word he ever uttered concerning the 
 dream that had just been disturbed. And it was only about this 
 time, I think, that we began to recognize the simple, large, noble 
 nature of this man. We had been too much inclined to regard 
 the mere husks and externals of his character — to laugh at his 
 assumption of parochial importance, his solemn discussions of the 
 Semple case, his idiotic stories about Homesh. And it was not 
 a mere freak of generosity that revealed to us something of the 
 finer nature of this old Scotchman. People as rich as he have 
 often paid bigger sums than £10,300 for the furtherance of a 
 hobby. But it was to put away his hobby — it was to destroy 
 forever the "dream of his old age" — that he had been thus mu- 
 nificent toward this girl. And there was no complaint or regret. 
 He had told us it was time for him to put away childish things. 
 And this was the last word said — " My lass, I would rather have 
 seen you at Denny-mains." 
 
 The Laird was exceedingly facetious at this breakfast-party, 
 and his nephew had a bad time of it. There were mysterious 
 questions about Messrs. Hughes, Barnes & Barnes ; as to whether 
 consultations were best held in stubble or in turnips ; or whether 
 No. 5 shot was the best for bringing down briefs ; and so forth. 
 
 " Never mind, uncle," said the Youth, good-naturedly. " I will 
 send you some partridges for the larder of the yacht." 
 
 " You need not do anything of the kind," said the Laird ; 
 *' before you are in Bedfordshire the White Dove will be many a 
 mile away from the course of luggage steamers." 
 
 "Oh, are you ready to start, then, sir?" said his hostess. 
 
 " This very meenute, if it pleases you," said he. 
 
 She looked rather alarmed, but said nothing. In the mean 
 time the wagonette had come to the door.
 
 BACKWARD THOUGHTS. 307 
 
 B\'-aTid-l)y there was a small party assembled on the steps to 
 see the Youth drive off. And now the time liad come for him 
 to make that speech of tlianks which his uncle had pointed out 
 was distinctly due from him. The Laird, indeed, regarded his 
 departure with a critical air; and no doubt waited to see how 
 his nephew would acquit himself. 
 
 . Perhaps tlie Youth had forgotten. At all events, having bid- 
 den good-bye to the others, he shook hands last of all with his 
 hostess, and said, lightly, 
 
 " Thank you very much. I have enjoyed the whole thing tre- 
 mendously." 
 
 Then he jumped into the wagonette, and took off his cap as 
 a parting salute ; and away he went. The Laird frowned. When 
 he was a young man that was not the way in which hospitality 
 was acknowledged. 
 
 Then Mary Avon turned from regarding the departing wag- 
 onette. 
 
 "Are we to get ready to start?" said she. 
 
 " What do you say, sir?" asks the hostess of the Laird. 
 
 " I am at your service," he replies. 
 
 And so it appeared to be arranged. But still Queen Titania 
 looked irresolute and uneasy. She did not at once set the whole 
 house in an uproar ; or send down for the men ; or begin her- 
 self to harry the garden. She kept loitering about the door, 
 pretending to look at the signs of the weather. At last Mary 
 said, 
 
 " Well, in any case you will be more than an hour in having 
 the things carried down ; so I will do a little bit more to that 
 sketch in the mean time." 
 
 The moment she was gone, her hostess says, in a hurried whis- 
 per to the Laird, 
 
 " Will you come into the library, sii", for a moment ?" 
 
 He obediently followed her, and she shut the door. 
 
 " Are we to start without Angus Sutherland ?" she asked, with- 
 out circumlocution. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, ma'am — " said the wily Laird. 
 
 Then she was forced to explain, which she did in a somewhat 
 nervous manner. 
 
 " Mary has told me, sir, of your very, very great generosity to 
 her. I hope you will let me thank you, too." *
 
 308 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " There is not another word to be said about it," he said, sim- 
 ply. " I found a small matter wrong in the world that I thought 
 I could put right, and I did it ; and now we start fresh and straight 
 again. That is all." 
 
 " But about Angus Sutherland," said she, still more timidly. 
 "You were quite right in your conjectures — at least, I imagine 
 so — indeed, I am sure of it. And now, don't you think we 
 should send for him ?" 
 
 " The other day, ma'am," said he, slowly, " I informed ye that 
 when I considered my part done I would leave the matter in your 
 hands entirely, I had to ask some questions of the lass, no doubt, 
 to make sure of my ground ; but I felt it was not a business fit 
 for an old bachelor like me to intermeddle wi', I am now of 
 opinion that it would be better, as I say, to leave the matter in 
 your hands entirely." 
 
 The woman looked rather bewildered. 
 
 " But what am I to do ?" said she. " Mary will never allow 
 me to send for him — and I have not his address, in any case — " 
 
 The Laird took a telegram from his breast-pocket. 
 
 " There it is," said he, " until the end of this week, at all 
 events." 
 
 She looked at it hesitatingly ; it was from the office of the 
 magazine that Angus Sutherland edited, and was in reply to a 
 question of the Laird's. Then she lifted her eyes. 
 
 " Do you think I might ask Mary herself ?" 
 
 " That is for a woman to decide," said he ; and again she was 
 thrown back on her own resources. 
 
 Well, this midge of a woman has some courage, too. She began 
 to reflect on what the Laird had adventured, and done, for the 
 sake of this girl ; and was she not prepared to risk something 
 also? After all, if these two. had been fostering a vain delusion, 
 it would be better to have it destroyed at once. 
 
 And so she went out into the garden, where she found Miss 
 Avon again seated at her easel. She went gently over to her ; 
 she had the telegram in her hand. For a second or two she 
 stood irresolute ; then she boldly walked across the lawn, and 
 put her hand on the girl's shoulder. With the other hand she 
 held the telegram before Mary Avon's eyes. 
 
 "Mary," said she,- in a very low and gentle voice, "will you 
 write to him now and ask him to conic back?"
 
 BACKWARD THOUGHTS. 309 
 
 The girl dropped the brush she had been holduig on to the 
 grass, and her face got very pale. 
 
 " Oh, how could I do that ?" said she, in an equally low and 
 frightened voice. 
 
 " You sent him away." 
 
 There was no answer. The elder wonjan waited ; she only 
 saw that Mary Avon's fingers were working nervously with the 
 edge of the palette. 
 
 " Mary," said she, at length, " am I right in imagining the cause 
 of your sending him away ? May I write and explain, if you will 
 not ?" 
 
 " Oh, how can you explain ?" the girl said, almost piteously. 
 " It is better as it is. Did you not hear what the kindest friend 
 I ever found in the world had to say of me yesterday, about young 
 people who were too prudent, and were mercenary ; and how he had 
 no respect for young people who thought too much about money — " 
 
 " Mary, Mary !" the other said, " he was not speaking about 
 you. You mercenary ! He was speaking about a young man 
 who would throw over his sweetheart for the sake of money. 
 You mercenary ! Well, let me appeal to Angus ! When I ex- 
 plain to him, and ask him what he thinks of you, I will abide by 
 his answer." 
 
 " Well, 1 did not think of myself ; it was for his sake I did 
 it," said the girl, in a somewhat broken voice; and tears began 
 to steal down her cheeks, and she held her head away. 
 
 " Well, then, I won't bother you any more, Mary," said the 
 other, in her kindliest way. " I won't ask you to do anything, 
 except to get ready to get down to the yacht." 
 
 "At once?" said the girl, instantly getting up and drying her 
 eyes. She seemed greatly relieved by this intimation of an im- 
 mediate start. 
 
 '* As soon as the men have the luggage taken down." 
 
 " Oh, that will be very pleasant !" said she, immediately begin- 
 ning to put away her colors. " What a fine breeze ! I am sure 
 I shall be ready in fifteen minutes." 
 
 Then the usual bustle began ; messages flying up and down, 
 and the gig and dingy racing each other to the shore and back 
 again. By twelve o'clock everything had been got on board. 
 Then the White Dove gently glided away from her moorings : 
 we had started on our last and longest voyage. 
 
 15
 
 310 WHITE wings: a YACHTINa ROMANCE. 
 
 It seemed innumerable ages since we had been in our sea-home. 
 And that first glance round the saloon — as our absent friend the 
 Doctor liad remarked — called up a multitude of recollections, 
 mostly converging to a general sense of snugness, and remote- 
 ness, and good-fellowship. The Laird sunk down into a corner 
 of one of the couches, and said, 
 
 " Well, I think I could spend the rest of my days in this yacht. 
 It seems as if I had lived in it for many, many years." 
 
 But Miss Avon would not let him remain below ; it was a fine 
 sailing day, and very soon we were all on deck. A familiar scene 
 — this expanse of blue sea, curling with Avhite here and there, 
 with a dark-blue sky overhead, and all around the grand pano- 
 rama of mountains in their rich September hues? The sea is 
 never familiar. In its constant and moving change, its secret and 
 slumbering power, its connection with the great unknown beyond 
 the visible horizon, you never become familiar with the sea. We 
 may recognize the well-known landmarks as we steal away to the 
 north — the long promontory and white light-house of Lismore, 
 the ruins of Duart, the woods of Scallasdale, the glimpse into 
 Loch Aline — and we may use these things only to calculate our 
 progress; but always around us is the strange life, and motion, 
 and infinitude of the sea, which never becomes familiar. 
 
 We had started with a light favorable wind, of the sort that 
 we had come to call a Mary - Avon - steering breeze; but after 
 luncheon this died away, and we lay idly for a long time oppo- 
 site the dark -green woods of Fuinary. However, there was a 
 wan and spectral look about the sunshine of this afternoon, and 
 there were some long, ragged shreds of cloud in the Southern 
 heavens — just over the huge round shoulders of the Mull moun- 
 tains — that told us we were not likely to be harassed by any pro- 
 triicted calms. And, in fact, occasional puffs and squalls came 
 over from the south, which, if they did not send us on much far- 
 ther, at least kept everybody on the alert. 
 
 And at length we go it. The gloom over the mountains had 
 deepened, and the streaks of sunlit sky that were visible here and 
 there had a curious coppery tinge about them. Then we heard 
 a hissing in toward the shore, and the darkening band on the sea 
 spread rapidly out to us; then there was a violent shaking of 
 blocks and spars, and, as the White Dove bent to the squall, a 
 most frightful clatter was heard below, showing that some care-
 
 BACKWARD THOUGHTS. 311 
 
 less people had been about. Then away went the yacht like an 
 arrow ! We cared little for the gusts of rain that came whip- 
 ping across from time to time. We would not even go down to 
 see what damage had been done in the cabins. John of Skye, 
 with his savage hatred of the long calms we had endured, refused 
 to lower his gaff-topsail. At last he was "letting her have it." 
 
 We spun along, with the water hissing away from our wake ; 
 but the squall had not had time to raise anything of a sea, so 
 there was but little need for the women to duck their heads to 
 the spray. Promontory after promontory, bay after bay was 
 passed, until far ahead of us, through the driving mists of rain, 
 we could make out the white shaft of Ru-na-Gaul light-house. 
 But here another condition of affairs confronted us. When we 
 turned her nose to the south, to beat into Tobermory harbor, the 
 squall was coming tearing out of that cup among the hills with 
 an exceeding violence. When the spray sprung high at the bows, 
 the flying shreds of it that reached us bore an uncommon resem- 
 blance to the thong of a whip. The top-sail was got down, the 
 mizzen taken in, and then we proceeded to fight our way into the 
 harbor in a series of tacks that seemed to last only a quarter of 
 a second. What with the howling of the wind, that blew back 
 his orders in his face ; and what with the wet decks, thai' caused 
 the men to stumble now and again ; and what with the number 
 of vessels in the bay, that cut short his tacks at every turn. Cap- 
 tain John of Skye had an exciting time of it. But we knew him 
 of old. He " put on " an extra tack, when there was no need for 
 it, and slipped through between a fishing -smack and a large 
 schooner, merely for the sake of " showing off." And then the 
 White Dove was allowed to go up to the wind, and slowly slack- 
 ened her pace, and the anchor went out with a roar. We were 
 probably within a yard of the precise spot where we had last an- 
 chored in the Tobermory Bay. 
 
 It blew and rained hard all that evening, and we did not even 
 think of going on deck after dinner. We were quite content as 
 we were. Somehow a new and secret spirit of cheerfulness had 
 got possession of certain members of this party, without any 
 ostensible cause. There was no longer the depression that had 
 prevailed about West Loch Tarbert. When Mary Avon played 
 bezique with the Laird, it was to a scarcely audible accompani- 
 ment of " The Queen's Maries."
 
 312 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 Nor did the evening pass without an incident worthy of some 
 brief mention. There is, in the White Dove, a state-room which 
 really acts as a passage, during the day, between the saloon and 
 the forecastle ; and, when this state-room is not in use, Master 
 Fred is in the habit of converting it into a sort of pantry, seeing 
 that it adjoins his galley. Now, in this evening, when our shifty 
 Friedrich d'or came in with soda-water and such like things, he 
 took occasion to say to the Rear-Admiral of the Fleet on board, 
 
 " I beg your pardon, mem, but there is no one now in this 
 state-room, and will I use it for a pantry ?" 
 
 " You will do nothing of the kind, Fred !" said she, quite 
 sharply. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 SAILING NORTHWARD. 
 
 *' I AM almost afraid of what I have done ; but it is past recall 
 now :" this is the mysterious sentence one hears on climbing up 
 the companion next morning. It is Queen Titania and the Laird 
 who are talking ; but as soon as a third person appears they be- 
 come consciously and guiltily silent. What does it matter ? We 
 have other work on hand than prying into twopenny-halfpenny 
 secrets. 
 
 For we have resolved on starting away for the north in spite 
 of this fractious weather. A more unpromising-looking morning, 
 indeed, for setting out could not well be imagined — windy, and 
 wet, and squally ; the driven green sea outside springing white 
 where it meets the line of the coast; Loch Snnart and its moun- 
 tains hidden away altogether behind the mists of rain ; wan 
 flashes of sunlight here and there only serving to show how swiftly 
 the clouds are flying. But the White Dove has been drying her 
 wings all the summer ; she can afford to face a shower now. And 
 while the men are hoisting the sail, and getting the anchor hove 
 short, our two women-folk array themselves in tightly-shaped ul- 
 sters, with hoods drawn over their heads; and the Laird appears 
 in a waterproof reaching to his heels ; and even the skylights have 
 their tarpaulins thrown over. Dirty weather or no, we mean to 
 start. 
 
 Tlierc are two or three yachts in the bay, the last of the sum-
 
 SAILING NORTHWARD. 313 
 
 mer fleet all hastening away to the south. There is no move- 
 ment on the decks of any one of them. Here and there, how- 
 ever, in sheltered places — under a bit of awning, or standing by 
 the doors of deck-saloons — we can make out huddled groups of 
 people, who are regarding with a pardonable curiosity the opera- 
 tions of John of Skye and his merry men. 
 
 " They take us for maniacs," says Queen Titania from out of 
 her hood, "to be setting out for the north in such weather." 
 
 And we were nearly affording those amiable spectators a pret- 
 ty sight. The wind coining in variable gusts, the sails failed to 
 fill at the proper moment, and the White Dove drifted right on to 
 the bows of a great schooner, whose bowsprit loomed portentous 
 overhead. There was a wild stampede for boat-hooks and oars ; 
 and then with arms, and feet, and poles — aided by the swarming 
 crew of the schooner — we managed to clear her with nothing 
 more serious than an ominous grating along the gig. And then 
 the wind catching her, she gradually came under the control of 
 Captain John ; and away we went for the north, beating right in 
 the teeth of the gusts that came tearing over from the mouth of 
 Loch Sunart. 
 
 " It's a bad wind, mem, for getting up to Isle Ornsay," says 
 John of Skye to the Admiral. " Ay, and the sea pretty coorse, 
 too, when we get outside Ardnaraurchan." 
 
 " Now listen to me, John," she says severely, and with an air 
 of authority — as much authority, that is to say, as can be assumed 
 by a midge enclosed in an ulster—" I am not going to have any 
 of that. I know you of old. As soon as you get out of Tober- 
 mory you immediately discover that the wind is against our go- 
 ing north; and we turn round and run away down to lona and 
 the Bull-hole. I will not go to the Ball-hole. If I have to sail 
 this yacht myself, night and day, I will go to Isle Ornsa}"." 
 
 " If ye please, mem," says Johij of Skye, grinning with great 
 delight over her facetiousness. " Oh, I will tek the yat to Isle 
 Ornsay very well, if the leddies not afraid of a little coorse sea, 
 and you will not need to sail the yat at all, mem. But^ not 
 afraid to let you sail the yat. You will know about the sailing 
 now shist as much as Mr. Sutherland." 
 
 At the mention of this name, Queen Titania glanced at Mary 
 Avon, perceived she was not listening, and went nearer to John 
 of Skye, and said something to him in a lower voice. There was
 
 314 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 a quicTv look of surprise and pleasure on the handsome, brown- 
 bearded face. 
 
 " Oh, I ferry glad of that, mem," said he. 
 
 " Hush, John ! Not a word to anybody," said she. 
 
 By this time we had beat out of the harbor, and were now get- 
 ting longer tacks ; so that when the sheets were properly coiled 
 it was possible for the Laird and Miss Avon to attempt a series 
 of short promenades on the wet decks. It was an uncertain and 
 unstable performance, to be sure, for the sea was tumultuous; 
 but it served. 
 
 " Mutual help — that's the thing," said the Laird to his com- 
 panion, as together they staggered along, or stood steady to con- 
 front a particularly fierce gust of wind. " We are independent 
 of the world — this solitary vessel out in the waste of waters — but 
 v/e are not independent of each other. It just reminds me of 
 the small burghs outside Glasgow : we wish to be independent of 
 the great ceety lying near us ; we prefer to have a separate ex- 
 istence ; but we can help each other, for all that, in a most un- 
 mistakable way — " 
 
 Here the Laird was interrupted by the calling out of Captain 
 John — '"'' Ready about P'' — and he and his companion had to get 
 out of the way of the boom. Then they resumed their prome- 
 nade, and he his discourse. 
 
 *' Do ye think, for example," said this profound philosopher, 
 *' that any one burgh would have been competent to decide on a 
 large question like the clauses of the Police Act that refer to 
 cleansing and lighting?" 
 
 "I am not sure," Miss Avon admitted. 
 
 " No, no," said he, confidently, " large questions should be con- 
 sidered in common council — with every opportunity of free dis- 
 cussion. I do not much like to speak about local matters, or of 
 my own share in them, but I must take credit for this, that it 
 was myself recommended to the Commissioners to summon a 
 jniblic meeting. It was so, and the meeting was quite unani- 
 mous. It was Provost McKendrick, ye must understand, who 
 formally made the proposal that the consideration of those 
 clauses should be remitted to the clerks of the various burghs, 
 who were to report ; but the suggestion was really mine — I make 
 no scruple in claiming it. And then, see the result ! When the 
 six clerks were agreed, and sent in their report, look at the au-
 
 SAILING NORTHWARD. 315 
 
 thority of such a document ! Who but an ass would make frcc- 
 volous objections V 
 
 The Laird laughed aloud. 
 
 " It was that crayturc, Johnnie Guthrie," said he, " as usual ! 
 I am not sure that I have mentioned his name to ye before." 
 
 " Oh yes, I think so, sir," remarked Miss Avon. 
 
 " It was that crayture, Johnnie Guthrie — in the face of the 
 unanimous report of the whole six clerks ! Why, what could be 
 more reasonable than that the lighting of closes and common 
 stairs should fall on the landlords, but with power to recover 
 from the tenants ; while the cleansing of back courts — being a 
 larger and more general measure — should be the work of the 
 Commissioners, and chargeable in the police rates ? It is a great 
 sanitary work, that benefits every one ; why should not all have a 
 hand in paying for it ?" 
 
 Miss Avon was understood to assent; but the fact was that the 
 small portion of her face left uncovered by her hood had just 
 then received an unexpected bath of salt-water ; and she had to 
 halt for a moment to get out a handkerchief from some sub- 
 ulsterian recess. 
 
 " Well, continued the Laird, as they resumed their walk, " what 
 does this body Guthrie do but rise and propose that the land- 
 lords — mind ye, the landlords alone — should be rated for the ex- 
 pense of cleaning the back courts ! I declare there are some folk 
 seem to think that a landlord is made of nothing but money, and 
 that it is everybody's business to harry him, and worry him, and 
 screw every farthing out of him. If Johnnie Guthrie had half 
 a dozen lands of houses himself, what would he say about the 
 back courts then ?" 
 
 This triumphant question settled the matter; and we hailed the 
 Laird below for luncheon. Our last glance round showed us the 
 Atlantic of a silvery gray, and looking particularly squally ; with 
 here and there a gleam of pale sunshine falling on the long head- 
 land of Ardnamurchan. 
 
 There was evidently some profound secret about. 
 
 " Well, ma'am, and where will we get to the night, do ye 
 think?" said the Laird, cheerfully, as he proceeded to carve a 
 cold fowl. 
 
 " It is of no consequence," said the other, with equal careless- 
 ness. " You know we must idle away a few days somewhere."
 
 316 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 - Idle away a few da^'s? — and this White Dove bent on a voy- 
 age to the far north when the very Last of the yachts were fleeing 
 south ? 
 
 "I mean," said she, hastily, in order to retrieve her blunder, 
 *' that Captain John is not likely to go far away from the chance 
 of a harbor until he sees whether this is the beginning of the 
 equinoctials or not." 
 
 " The equinoctials !" said the Laird, anxiously. 
 
 " They sometimes begin as early as this, but not often. How- 
 ever, there will always be some place where we can run in to." 
 
 The equinoctials, indeed! When we went on deck again we 
 found not only that those angry squalls had ceased, but that the 
 wind had veered very considerably in our favor, and wo were 
 now running and plunging past Ardnamurchan Point. The rain 
 had ceased, too ; the clouds had gathered themselves up in heavy 
 folds, and their reflected blackness lay over the dark and heaving 
 Atlantic plain. Well was it for these two women that luncheon 
 had been taken in time. What one of them had dubbed the 
 Ardnamurchan Wobble — which she declared to be as good a 
 name for a waltz as the Liverpool Lurch — had begun in good 
 earnest ; and the White Dove was dipping, and rolling, and 
 springing in the most lively fashion. There was not much 
 chance for the Laird and Mary Avon to resume their promenade. 
 When one of the men came aft to relieve John of Skye at the 
 wheel, he had to watch his chance, and come clambering along 
 by holding on to the shrouds, the rail of the gig, and so forth. 
 But Dr. Sutherland's prescription had its eilect. Despite the 
 Ardnamurchan Wobble and all its deeds, there was no ghostly 
 and silent disappearance. 
 
 And so we ploughed on our way during the afternoon, the 
 Atlantic appearing to grow darker and darker as the clouds over- 
 head seemed to get banked up more thickly. The only cheerful 
 bit of light in this gloomy picture was a streak or two of sand 
 at the foot of the sheer and rocky cliflEs north of Ardnamurchan 
 Light ; and those we were rapidly leaving behind as the brisk 
 breeze — with a kindness to which we were wholly strangers — 
 kept steadily creeping round to the south. 
 
 The dark evening wore on, and we were getting well up to- 
 word Eigg, when a strange thing became visible along the west- 
 ern horizon. First the heavy purple clouds showed a tinge of
 
 ^ SAILING NORTHWARD. 317 
 
 crimson, and then a sort of yellow smoke appeared close down at 
 the sea. This golden vapor widened, cleared, until there was a 
 broad belt of lemon-colored sky all along- the edge of the world ; 
 and in this wonder of shining light appeared the island of Rum 
 — to all appearance as transparent as a bit of the thinnest gela- 
 tine, and in color a light purple rose. It was really a most ex- 
 traordinary sight. The vast bulk of this mountainous island, 
 including the sombre giants Haleval and Ilaskeval, seemed to 
 have less than the consistency of a cathedral window ; it resem- 
 bled more a pale, rose-colored cloud ; and the splendor of it, and 
 the glow of the golden sky beyond, were all the more bewilder- 
 ing by reason of the gloom of the impending clouds, that lay 
 across like a black bar. 
 
 " Well !" said the Laird — and here he paused, for the amazement 
 in his face could not at once find fitting words — " that beats a' !" 
 
 And it was a cheerful and friendly light, too, that now came 
 streaming over to us from beyond the horizon-line. It touched 
 the sails and the varnished spars with a pleasant color. It seemed 
 to warm and dry the air, and tempted the women to put aside 
 their ulsters. Then began a series of wild endeavors to achieve a 
 walk on deck, interrupted every second or two by some one or 
 other being thrown against the boom, or having to grasp at the 
 shrouds in passing. But it resulted in exercise, at all events ; and 
 meanwhile we were still making our way northward, with the 
 yellow star of Isle Ornsay light- house beginning to be visible 
 in the dusk. 
 
 That evening at dinner the secret came out. There cannot be 
 the slightest doubt that the disclosure of it had been carefully 
 planned by these two conspirators; and that they considered 
 themselves amazingly profound in giving to it a careless and im- 
 provised air. 
 
 " I never sit down to dinner now, ma'am," observed the Laird, 
 in a light and graceful manner, " without a feeling that there is 
 something wanting in the saloon. The table is not symmetrical. 
 That should occur to Miss Mary's eye at once. One at the head, 
 one my side, two yours ; no, that is not as svmmetrical as it used 
 to be." 
 
 "Do you think I do not feel that, too?" says his hostess. 
 "And that is not the only time at which I wish that Angus were 
 back with us." 
 
 15*
 
 318 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. ■* 
 
 No one Lad a word to say for poor Howard Smith, wlio used 
 to sit at the foot of the table, in a meek and helpful capacity. 
 No one thought of summoning him back to make the arrange- 
 ment symmetrical. Perhaps he was being consoled by Messrs. 
 Hughes, Barnes & Barnes. 
 
 " And the longer the nights are growing, I get to miss him 
 more and more," she says, with a beautiful pathos in her look. 
 " He was always so full of activity and cheerfulness — the way he 
 enjoyed life on board the yacht was quite infectious, and then his 
 constant plans and suggestions. And how he looked forward to 
 this long trip ! though, to be sure, he struggled hard against the 
 temptation. I know the least thing would have turned the scale 
 — Italy or no Italy." 
 
 "Why, ma'am," says the Laird, laughing prodigiously, "I 
 should not wonder, if you sent him a message at this minute, to 
 find him coming along post-haste and joining us, after all. What 
 is Eetaly ? I have been in Eetaly myself. Ye might live there 
 a hundred years and never see anything so fine in color as that 
 sunset we saw this very evening. And if it is business he is af- 
 ter, bless me ! cannot a young man be a young man sometimes, 
 and have the courage to do something imprudent ? Come now, 
 write to him at once : I will take the responsibility myself." 
 
 "To tell you the truth, sir," said the other, timidly — but she 
 pretends she is very anxious about the safety of a certain distant 
 wineglass — " I took a sudden notion into my head yesterday 
 morning, and sent him a message." 
 
 " Dear me !" he cries. The hypocrite ! 
 
 And Mary Avon all the while sits mute, dismayed, not daring 
 to turn her face to the light. And the small white hand that 
 holds the knife — why docs it tremble so ? 
 
 " The fact is," says Queen Titania carelessly, just as if she were 
 reading a bit out of a newspaper, " I sent him a telegram, to save 
 time. And I thought it would be more impressive if I made it 
 a sort of round-robin, don't you know — as far as that can be done 
 on a square telegraph form — and I said that each and all of us 
 demanded his instant return, and that we should wait about Isle 
 Ornsay or Loch Hourn until lie joined us. So you sec, sir, we 
 may have to try your patience for a day or two." 
 
 "Ye may try it, but ye will not find it wanting," said the Laird, 
 with serious courtesy. " 1 do not care how long I wait for the
 
 IN FAIRY-LAND. 319 
 
 young man, so long as I am in sucli pleasant society. Ye forget, 
 ma'am, what life one is obliged to live at Denny-mains, with 
 public affairs worrying one from the morning till the night. Pa- 
 tience? I have plenty of patience. But all the same, I would 
 like to see the young man here. I have a great respect for him, 
 though I consider that some of his views may not be quite sound 
 — that will mend — that will mend ; and now, my good friends, I 
 will take leave to propose a toast to ye." 
 
 We knew the Laird's old-fashioned ways, and had grown to 
 humor them. There was a pretence of solemnly filling glasses. 
 
 " I am going," said the Laird, in a formal manner, " to propose 
 to ye the quick and safe return of a friend. May all good fort- 
 une attend him on his way, and may happiness await him at the 
 end of his journey !" 
 
 There was no dissentient ; but there was one small white hand 
 somewhat unsteady, as the girl, abashed and trembling and silent, 
 touched the glass with her lips. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIIL 
 
 IN FAIRY-LAND. 
 
 It was a fine piece of acting. These two continued to talk 
 about the coming of our young doctor as if it were the most 
 simple and ordinary affair possible. All its bearings were discuss- 
 ed openly, to give you to understand that Mary Avon had noth- 
 ing in the world to do with it. It was entirely a practical ar- 
 rangement for the saving of time. By running across to Paris 
 he would jump over the interval between our leaving West Loch 
 Turbert and this present setting-out for the north. Mary Avon 
 was asked about this point and that point : there was no reason 
 why she should not talk about Angus Sutherland just like any 
 other. 
 
 And, indeed, there was little call for any pale apprehension on 
 the face of the girl, or for any quick look round v.hen a sudden 
 sound was heard. It was not possible for Angus to be anywhere 
 in our neighborhood as yet. When we went on deck next morn- 
 ing, we found that we had been idly drifting about all night, and 
 that we were now far away from any land. The morning sun
 
 320 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 was shining on the dark-green woods of Armadale, and on the 
 little white sharp point of Isle Ornsay light-house, and on the 
 vast heather-purpled hills in the north ; while over there the moun- 
 tains above Loch Hourn were steeped in a soft mysterious shad- 
 ow. And then, by-and-by, after breakfast, some light puffs of 
 westerly wind began to ruffle the glassy surface of the sea ; and 
 the White Dove almost insensibly drew nearer and nearer to the 
 entrance of that winding loch that disappeared away within the 
 dusky shadows of those overhanging hills. Late on as it was in 
 the autumn, the sun was hot on the sails and the deck ; and these 
 cool breezes were welcome in a double sense. 
 
 We saw nothing of the accustomed gloom of Loch Hourn. 
 The sheer sides of the great mountains were mostly in shadow, 
 it is true; but then the ridges and plateaus were burning in the 
 sunlight ; and the waters of the loch around us were blue, and 
 lapping, and cheerful. We knew only that the place was vast, 
 and still, and silent; we could make out scarcely any sign of 
 habitation. 
 
 Then, as the White Dove still glided on her way, we opened 
 out a little indentation of the land behind an island ; and there, 
 nestled at the foot of the hill, we descried a small fishing-village. 
 The cottages, the nets drying on the poles, the tiny patches of 
 cultivated ground behind, all seemed quite toy-like against the 
 giant and overhanging bulk of the hills. But again we drew 
 away from Camus Ban — that is, the White Bay — and got farther 
 and farther into the solitudes of the mountains, and away from 
 any traces of human life. When about mid -day we came to 
 anchor, we found ourselves in a sort of cup within the hills, ap- 
 parently shut off from all the outer world, and in a stillness so 
 intense that the distant whistle of a curlew was quite startling. 
 A breath of wind that blew over from the shore brought us a 
 scent of honeysuckle. 
 
 At luncheon we found to our amazement that a fifth seat had 
 been placed at table, and that plates, glasses, and what not liad 
 been laid for a guest. A guest in these wilds? — there was not 
 much chance of such a thing, unless the King of the Seals or the 
 Queen of the Mermaids were to come on board. 
 
 But when we had taken our scats, and were still regarding the 
 vacant chair with some curiosity, the Laird's hostess was pleased 
 to explain. She said to him, with a shy smile.
 
 IN FAIRY-LAND. 321 
 
 "I have not forgotten what you said; and I quite agree with 
 you that it balances the table better." 
 
 " But not an empty chair," said the Laird, severely, perhaps 
 thinking it was an evil omen. 
 
 " You know the German song," said she, " and how the last 
 remaining of the comrades filled the glasses with wine, and how 
 the ghosts rattled the glasses. Would you kindly fill that glass, 
 sir ?" 
 
 She passed the decanter. 
 
 " I will not, begging your pardon," said the Laird, sternly, for 
 he did not approve of these superstitions. And forthwith he 
 took the deck-chair and doubled it up, and threw it on the couch. 
 " We want the young man Sutherland here, and not any ghost. 
 I doubt not but that he has reached London by now." 
 
 After that a dead silence. Were there any calculations about 
 time ? or were we wondering whether, amidst the roar and w hirl 
 and moving life of the great city, he was thinking of the small 
 floating-home far away, amidst the solitude of the seas and the 
 hills? The deck-chair was put aside, it is true, for the Laird 
 shrunk from superstition ; but the empty glass, and the plates 
 and knives, and so forth, remained ; and they seemed to say that 
 our expected guest was drawing nearer and nearer. 
 
 " Well, John," said Queen Titania, getting on deck again, and 
 looking round, " I think we have got into Fairy-land at last." 
 
 John of Skye did not seem quite to understand, for his answer 
 was, 
 
 " Oh yes, mem ; it is a fearful place for squahls." 
 
 " For squalls ! said she. 
 
 No wonder she was surprised. The sea around us was so 
 smooth that the only motion visible on it was caused by an ex- 
 hausted wasp that had fallen on the glassy surface, and was mak- 
 ing a series of small ripples in trying to get free again. And 
 then, could anything be more soft and beautiful than the scene 
 around us — the great mountains clad to the summit with the 
 light foliage of the birch ; silver water-falls that made a vague 
 murmur in the air; an island right ahead with picturesquely 
 wooded rocks ; an absolutely cloudless sky above- — altogether a 
 wonder of sunlight and fair colors? Squalls ! The strange thing 
 was, not that we had ventured into a region of unruly winds, 
 but that we had got enouo;h wind to brintr us in at all. There
 
 322 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 was now not even enough to bring us tlie scent of honeysuckle 
 from the shore. 
 
 In the afternoon we set out on an expedition, nominally after 
 wild-duck, but in reality in exploration of the upper reaches of 
 the loch. We found a narrow channel between the island and 
 the main-land, and penetrated into the calm and silent waters of 
 Loch Hourn Beg. And still less did this offshoot of the larger 
 loch accord with that gloomy name — the Lake of Ilell. Even 
 where the mountains were bare and forbidding, the warm even- 
 ing light touched the granite with a soft rose-gray ; and reflec- 
 tions of this beautiful color were here and there visible amidst the 
 clear blue of the water. We followed the windings of the nar- 
 row and tortuous loch, but found no wild -duck at all. Here 
 and there a seal stared at us as we passed. Then we found a 
 crofter's cottage and landed, to the consternation of one or two 
 handsome wild-eyed children. A purchase of eggs ensued, after 
 much voluble Gaelic. We returned to the yacht. 
 
 That evening, as w'e sat on deck, watching the first stars be- 
 ginning to tremble in the blue, some one called attention to a 
 singular light that was beginning to appear along the summits 
 of the mountains just over us — a silvery-gray light, that showed 
 us the soft foliage of the birches, while below the steep slopes 
 grew more sombre as the night fell. And then we guessed that 
 the moon was somewhere on the other side of the loch, as yet 
 hidden from us by those black crags that pierced into the calm 
 blue vault of the sky. This the Lake of Hell, indeed ! By-and- 
 by we saw the silver rim appear above the black line of the hills ; 
 and a pale glory was presently shining around us, particularly 
 noticeable along the varnished spars. As the white moon sailed 
 up, this solitary cup in the mountains was filled with the clear 
 radiance, and the silence seemed to increase. We could hear 
 more distinctly than ever the various water-falls. The two women 
 were walking up and down the deck ; and each time that Mary 
 Avon turned her profile to the liglit the dark eyebrows and dark 
 eyelashes seemed darker than ever against the pale, sensitive, 
 sweet face. 
 
 But after awhile she gently disengaged herself from her 
 friend, and came and sat down by the Laird, quite mutely, and 
 waiting for him to speak. It is not to be supposed that she had 
 been in any way more demonstrative toward him since his great
 
 IN FAIRY-LAND, 323 
 
 act of kindness ; or tliat tliere was any need for liim to have pur- 
 chased her aflEection. That was of older date. Perhaps, if the 
 truth were told, slie was ratlier less demonstrative now ; for we 
 had all discovered that the Laird had a nervous horror of any- 
 thing that seemed to imply a recognition of what lie had done. 
 It was merely, he had told us, a certain wrong thing he had put 
 right ; there was no more to be said about it. 
 
 However, her coming and sitting down by him was no unusual 
 circumstance ; and she meekly left him his own choice, to speak 
 to her or not as he pleased. And he did speak — after a time. 
 
 " I was thinking," said he, " what a strange feeling ye get in 
 living on board a yacht in these wilds : it is just as if ye were 
 the only craytures in the world. "Would ye not think, now, that 
 the moon there belonged to this circle of hills, and could not be 
 seen by any one outside it? It looks as if it were coming close 
 to the top-mast : how can ye believe that it is shining over Tra- 
 falgar Square in London ?" 
 
 " It seems very close to us on so clear a night," says Mary 
 Avon. 
 
 "And in a short time, now," continued the Laird, "this little 
 world of ours — I mean the little company on board the yacht — 
 must be dashed into fragments, as it were ; and ye will be away 
 in London, and I will be at Denny-mains ; and who knows wheth- 
 er we may ever see each other again ? We must not grumble. 
 It is the fate of the best friends. But there is one grand conso- 
 lation — think what a consolation it must have been to many of 
 the poor people who were driven away from these Highlands to 
 Canada, and Australia, and elsewhere — that after all the partings 
 and sorrows of this world there is the great meeting-place at last. 
 I would just ask this favor frae ye, my lass, that when ye go back 
 to London ye would get a book of our old Scotch psalm-tunes, 
 and learn the tune that is called Comfort. It begins, ' Take com- 
 fort. Christians, when your friends.' It is a grand tune that : I 
 would like ye to learn it." 
 
 " Oh, certainly I will," said the girl. 
 
 "And I have been thinking," continued the Laird, "that I 
 would get Tom Galbraith to make ye a bit sketch of Denny- 
 mains, that ye might hang up in London, if ye were so minded. 
 It would show ye what the place was like ; and after some years 
 ye might begin to believe that ye really had been there, and
 
 324 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 that ye were familiar with it, as the home of an old friend o' 
 youi's," 
 
 " But I hope to see Denny-mains for myself, sir," said she, 
 with some surprise. 
 
 A quick, strange look appeared for a moment on the old Laird's 
 face. But presently he said, 
 
 " No, no, lass, ye will have other interests and other duties. 
 That is but proper and natural. How would the world get on at 
 all if we were not to be dragged here and there by diverse occu- 
 pations ?" 
 
 Then the girl sjjoke, proudly and bravely — 
 
 " And if I have any duties in the world, I think I know to 
 whom I owe them. And it is not a duty at all, but a great 
 pleasure ; and you promised me, sir, that I was to see Denny- 
 mains ; and I wish to pay you a long, long, long visit." 
 
 "A long, long, long visit?" said the Laird, cheerfully. "No, 
 no, lass, I just couldna be bothered with ye. Ye would be in 
 my way. What interest could ye take ii; our parish meetings, 
 and the church soirees, and the like ? No, no. But if ye like to 
 pay me a short, short, short visit at your own convenience — at 
 your own convenience, mind — I will get Tom Galbraith through 
 from Edinburgh, and I will get out some of the younger Glasgow 
 men ; and if we do not, you and me, show them something in the 
 way of landscape -sketching that will just frighten them out of 
 their very wits, why then I will give ye leave to say that my 
 name is not Mary Avon." 
 
 lie rose then and took her hand, and began to walk with her 
 up and down the moonlit deck. Wc heard something about the 
 Ilaughs o' Cromdale. The Laird was obviously not ill-pleased 
 that she had boldly claimed that promised visit to Denny-mains.
 
 VE ARE WELCOME, GLENOGIE." 325 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 " YE ARE WELCOME, GLENOGIE." 
 
 When, after nearly three moiitLs of glowing summer weather, 
 the heavens begin to look as if tliey meditated revenge; when, 
 in a dead calm, a darkening gloom appears behind the farther 
 hills, and slight puffs of wind come down vertically, spreading 
 themselves out on the glassy water; when the air is sultry, and 
 an occasional low rumble is heard, and the sun looks white — 
 then the reader of these pages may thank his stars that he is not 
 in Loch Hourn. And yet it was not altogether our fault that 
 we were nearly caught in this dangerous cup among the hills. 
 We had lain in these silent and beautiful waters for two or three 
 days, partly because of the exceeding loveliness of the place, part- 
 ly because we had to allow Angus time to get up to Isle Ornsay, 
 but chiefly because we had not the option of leaving. To get 
 through the narrow and shallow channel by which we had enter- 
 ed, we wanted both wind and tide in our favor ; and there was 
 scarcely a breath of air during the long, peaceful, shining days. 
 At length, when our sovereign mistress made sure that the young 
 doctor must be waiting for us at Isle Ornsay, she informed Cap- 
 tain John that he must get us out of this place somehow. 
 
 " 'Deed, I not sorry at all," said John of Skye, who had never 
 ceased to represent to us that, in the event of bad weather com- 
 ing on, we should find ourselves in the lion's jaws. 
 
 Well, on the afternoon of the third day, it became very obvi- 
 ous that something serious was about to happen. Clouds began 
 to bank up behind the mountains that overhung the upper reach- 
 es of the loch, and an intense purple gloom gradually spread along 
 those sombre hills — all the more intense that the little island in 
 front of us, crossing the loch, burned in the sunlight a vivid strip 
 of green. Then little puffs of wind fell here and there on the 
 blue water, and broadened out in a silvery gray. We noticed 
 that all the men were on deck.
 
 326 WHITE WINGS : a yachting romance. 
 
 As the strange darkness of the locli increased, as tliese vast 
 mountains overhanging the inner cup of the loch grew more and 
 more awful in the gloom, we began to understand why the Celtic 
 imagination had called this place the Lake of Hell. Captain John 
 kept walking up and down somewhat anxiously, and occasionally 
 looking at his watch. The question was whether we should get 
 enough wind to take us through the narrows before the tide turn- 
 ed. In the mean time main-sail and jib were set, and the anchor 
 hove short. 
 
 At last the welcome flapping and creaking and rattling of 
 blocks. What although this brisk breeze came dead in our teeth? 
 John of Skye, as he called all hands to the windlass, gave us to 
 understand that he would rather beat through the neck of a bot- 
 tle than lie in Loch Ilourn that night. 
 
 And it was an exciting piece of business when we got farther 
 down the loch, and approached this narrow passage. On the one 
 side sharp and sheer rocks ; on the other, shallow banks that 
 shone through the water ; behind us the awful gloom of gather- 
 ing thunder; ahead of us a breeze that came tearing down from 
 the hills in the most puzzling and varying squalls. With a steady 
 wind it would have been bad enouo-h to beat throu2;h those nar- 
 rows ; but this wind kept shifting about anyhow. Sharp was 
 the word, indeed. It was a question of seconds as we sheered 
 away from the rocks on the one side, or from the shoals on the 
 other. And then, amidst it all, a sudden cry from the women, 
 
 "John! John!" 
 
 John of Skye knows his business too well to attend to the 
 squealing of women. 
 
 "Ready about!" he roars; and all hands are at the sheets, and 
 even Master Fred is leaning over the bows to watch the shallow- 
 ness of the water. 
 
 "John! John!" the w^omen cry. 
 
 "Haul up the main tack, Hector! Ay, that '11 do. Ready 
 about, boys !" 
 
 But this starboard tack is a little bit longer, and John manages 
 to cast an impatient glance beliind him. The sailor's eye in an 
 instant detects that distant object. What is it? Why, surely 
 some one in the stern of a rowing-boat, standing up and violent- 
 ly waving a white handkerchief, and two men pulling like mad 
 creatures.
 
 "ye are welcome, glenouie." 327 
 
 " Jolin ! John ! Don't you see it is Angus Sutherland !" cries 
 tlie older woman, pitifully. 
 
 By this time wc are going bang on to a sand -bank; and 
 the men, standing by the sheets, are amazed that the skipper 
 does not put his helm down. Instead of that — and all this hap- 
 pens in an instant — he eases the helm up, and the bows of the 
 yacht fall away from the wind, and just clear the bank. Hector 
 of Moidart jumps ta the main-sheet and slacks it out, and then, 
 behold ! the White Dove is running free, and there is a sudden 
 silence on board. 
 
 " Why, he must have come over from the Caledonian Canal !" 
 says Queen Titania, in great excitement. " Oh, how glad I am !" 
 
 But John of Skye takes advantage of this breathing space to 
 have another glance at his watch. 
 
 " We'll maybe beat the tide yet," he says, confidently. 
 
 And who is this who comes joyously clambering up, and 
 hauls his portmanteau after him, and throws a couple of half- 
 crowns into the bottom of the black boat ? 
 
 " Oh, Angus," his hostess cries to him, " you will shake hands 
 with us all afterward. We are in a dreadful strait. Never mind 
 us — help John if you can." 
 
 Meanwhile Captain John has again put the nose of the White 
 Dove at these perilous narrows ; and the young doctor — perhaps 
 glad enough to escape embarrassment among all this clamor — 
 has thrown his coat off to help ; and the men have got plenty of 
 anchor-chain on deck, to let go the anchor if necessary; and 
 then again begins that manoeuvring between the shallows and the 
 rocks. What is this new sense of completeness — of added life — 
 of briskness and gladness? Why do the men seem more alert? 
 and why this cheeriness in Captain John's shouted commands? 
 The women are no longer afraid of either banks or shoals ; they 
 rather enjoy the danger; when John seems determined to run 
 the yacht through a mass of conglomerate, they know that with 
 the precision of clock-work she will be off on the other tack ; 
 and they are laughing at these narrow escapes. Perhaps it would 
 be more accurate to say that only one of them laughs. Mary 
 Avon is somewhat silent, and she holds her friend's hand tight. 
 
 Tide or no tide, we get through the narrow channel at last ; 
 and every one breathes more freely when we are in the open. 
 But we are still far from being out of Loch Hourn ; and now
 
 328 WHITE WINGS : a yachting romance. 
 
 tlie mountains in the south, too — one of thera apparently an ex- 
 tinct volcano — have grown black as thunder; and the wind that 
 comes down from them in jerks and squalls threatens to plunge 
 our bulwarks under water. How the White Dove flees away 
 from this gathering gloom ! Once or twice we hear behind us a 
 roar, and turning we can see a specially heavy squall tearing 
 across the loch ; but here with us the wind continues to keep a 
 little more steady, and we go bowling along at a welcome pace. 
 Angus Sutherland comes aft, puts on his coat, and makes his 
 formal entry into our society, 
 
 "You have just got out in time," says he, laughing somewliat 
 nervously, to his hostess. " There will be a wild night in Loch 
 Hourn to-night." 
 
 "And the beautiful calm we have had in there!" she says. 
 " We were beginning to think that Loch Hourn was Fairy-land." 
 
 " Look !" he said. 
 
 And indeed the spectacle behind us was of a nature to make 
 us thankful that we had slipped out of the lion's jaws. The wa- 
 ters of the loch were being torn into spindrift by the squalls ; 
 and the black clouds overhead were being dragged into shreds 
 as if by invisible hands ; and in the hollows below appeared a 
 darkness as if night had come on prematurely. And still the 
 White Dove flew and flew, as if she knew of the danger behind 
 her; and by -and -by we were plunging and racing across the 
 Sound of Sleat. We had seen the last of Loch Hourn. 
 
 The clear golden ray of Isle Ornsay Light-house was shining 
 through the dusk as we made in for the sheltered harbor. We 
 had run the dozen miles or so in a little over the hour; and now 
 dinner-time had arrived ; and we were not sorry to be in com- 
 paratively smooth w-ater. The men were sent ashore with some 
 telegram — the sending off of which was the main object of our 
 running in here ; and then Master Fred's bell summoned us be- 
 low from the wild and windy night. 
 
 ]Iow rich and warm and cheerful was this friendly glow of the 
 candles, and how compact the table seemed now, with the vacant 
 space filled at last ! And every one api)cared to be talking liard, 
 in order to show that Angus Sutherland's return was a quite or- 
 dinary and familiar thing; and the Laird was making his jokes; 
 and the young doctor telling his hostess how he had been send- 
 inir telcirrams here and there until he had learned of the White
 
 "ye are welcome, glenogie." 329 
 
 Dove havin2; been seen going into Loch Hourn. Even Miss 
 Avon, though she said but httle, shared in this general excite- 
 ment and pleasure. We couhl hear her soft laughter from time 
 to time. But her eyes were kept away from the corner where 
 Angus Sutherland sat. 
 
 " Well, you are lucky people," said he. " If you had missed 
 getting out of that hole by half an hour, you might have been 
 shut up in it a fortnight. I believe a regular gale from the south 
 has begun." 
 
 " It is you who have brought it, then," said his hostess. " You 
 are the stormy petrel. xVnd you did your best to make us miss 
 the tide." 
 
 *' I think we shall have some sailing now," said he, rubbing his 
 hands in great delight — he pretends to be thinking only of the 
 yacht. "John talks of going on to-night, so as to slip through 
 the Kyle Rhea Narrows with the first of the flood-tide in the 
 morning." 
 
 " Going out to-night !" she exclaimed. " Is it you who have 
 put that madness into his head ? It must be pitch-dark already. 
 And a gale blowing!" 
 
 " Oh no," he said, laughing ; " there is not much of a gale. 
 And it cannot be very dark, with the moon behind the clouds." 
 
 Here a noise above told us the men had come back from the 
 small village. They brought a telegram, too, but it was of no 
 consequence. Presently — in fact, as soon as he decently could — 
 Angus left the dinner-table, and went on deck. He had scarcely 
 dared to glance at the pale, sensitive face opposite him. 
 
 By-and-by Queen Titania, said, solemnly, 
 
 " Listen !" 
 
 There was no doubt about it ; the men were weighing anchor. 
 
 "That madman," said she, "has persuaded Captain John to go 
 to sea again — at this time of night !" 
 
 " It was Captain John's own wish. He wishes to catch the 
 tide in the morning," observed Miss Avon, with her eyes cast 
 down. 
 
 " That's right, my lass," said the Laird. " Speak up for them 
 who are absent. But, indeed, I think I will go on deck myself 
 now, to see what's going on." 
 
 We all went on deck, and there and then unanimously passed 
 a vote of approval on Captain John's proceedings, for the wind
 
 330 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 had moderated very considerably ; and there was a pale suffused 
 light telling of the moon being somewhere behind the fleecy 
 clouds in the south-east. With much content we perceived that 
 the White Dove was already moving out of the dark little harbor. 
 We heard the rush of the sea outside without much concern. 
 
 It was a pleasant sailing night after all. When we had stolen 
 by the glare of the solitary light-house, and got into the open, 
 we found there was no very heavy sea running, w'hile there was a 
 steady, serviceable breeze from the south. There was moonlight 
 abroad, too, though the moon was mostly invisible behind the 
 thin drifting clouds. The women, wrapped up, sat hand in 
 hand, and chatted to each other ; the doctor was at the tiller ; 
 the Laird was taking an occasional turn up and down, sometimes 
 pausing to challenge general attention by some profound remark. 
 
 And very soon we began to perceive that Angus Sutlierland 
 had by some inscrutable means got into the Laird's good graces 
 in a most marked degree. Denny-mains, on this particular night, 
 as we sailed away northward, was quite complimentary about the 
 march of modern science, and the service done- to humanity by 
 scientific men. He had not even an ill word for the " Vestiges 
 of Creation." He went the length of saying that he was not 
 scholar enough to deny that there might be various ways of in- 
 terpreting the terms of the Mosaic chronology ; and expressed a 
 great interest in the terribly remote people who must have lived 
 in the lake-dwellings. 
 
 "Oh, don't you believe that," said our steersman, good-nat- 
 uredly. " The scicntifics are only humbugging the public about 
 those lake-dwellings. They were only the bath-houses and wash- 
 houses of a comparatively modern and civilized race, just as you 
 see them now on the Lake of a Thousand Islands, and at tlic 
 mouths of the Amazon, and even on the Rhine. Surely you 
 know the bath-houses built on piles on the Rhine?" 
 
 " Dear me !" said the Laird, " that is extremely interesting. 
 Tt is a novel view — a most novel view. But then the remains — 
 what of the remains ? The earthen cups and platters : they must 
 have belonged to a very precmitivc race?" 
 
 " Not a bit," said the profound scientific authority, with a 
 laugh. " They were the things the children amused themselves 
 with when their nurses took them down there to be out of the 
 heat and the dust. They were a very advanced race indeed.
 
 "ye are welcome, glenogie." 331 
 
 Even the children could make earthen cups and saucers, while 
 the children nowada3^s can only make mud-pies," 
 
 " Don't believe him, sir," their hostess called out ; " he is only 
 making a fool of us all." 
 
 " Ay, but there's something in it — there's something in it," 
 said the Laird, seriously ; and he took a step or two up and 
 down the deck in deep meditation. " There's something in it. 
 It's plausible. If it is not sound, it is an argument. It would 
 be a good stick to break over an ignorant man's head." 
 
 Suddenly the Laird began to laugh aloud. 
 
 " Bless me," said he, " if I could only inveigle Johnny Guthrie 
 into an argument about that ! I would give it him ! I would 
 give it him !" 
 
 This was a shocking revelation. What had come over the 
 Laird's conscience, that he actually proposed to inveigle a poor 
 man into a controversy, and then to hit him over the head with 
 a sophistical argument? We could not have believed it. And 
 here he was laughing and chuckling to himself over that shame- 
 ful scheme. 
 
 Our attention, however, was at this moment suddenly drawn 
 away from moral questions. The rapidly driving clouds just 
 over the wild mountains of Loch Hourn parted, and the moon 
 glared out on the tumbling waves. But what a curious moon 
 it was ! — pale and watery, with a white halo around it, and with 
 another faintly colored halo outside that again whenever the 
 slight and vapory clouds crossed, John of Skye came aft. 
 
 " I not like the look of that moon," said John of Skye to the 
 doctor, but in an undertone so that the women should not hear. 
 
 " Nor I either," said the other, in an equally low voice. " Do 
 you think we are going to have the equinoctials, John ?" 
 
 " Oh no, not yet. It not the time for the equinoctials yet." 
 
 And as we crept on through the night, now and again, from 
 amidst the wild and stormy clouds above Loch Hourn, the wan 
 moon still shone out ; and then we saw something of the silent 
 shores we were passing, and of the awful mountains overhead, 
 stretching far into the darkness of the skies. Then preparations 
 were made for coming to anchor ; and by-and-by the White Dove 
 was brought round to the wind. We were in a bay — if bay it 
 could be called — just south of Kyle Rhea Narrows. There was 
 nothing visible along the pale moonlit shore.
 
 332 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " This is a very open place to anchor in, John," our young 
 doctor ventured to remark. 
 
 "But it is a good holding ground; and we will be away early 
 in the morning whatever." 
 
 And so, when the anchor was s\Yung out and quiet restored 
 over the vessel, we proceeded to get below. There were a great 
 many things to be handed down, and a careful search had to be 
 made that nothing was forgotten : we did not want to find soak- 
 ed shawls or books lying on the deck in the morning. But at 
 length all this was settled too, and we were assembled once more 
 in the saloon. 
 
 We were assembled — all but two. 
 
 " Where is Miss Mary ?" said the Laird, cheerfully : he was al- 
 ways the first to miss his companion. 
 
 " Perhaps she is in her cabin," said his hostess, somewhat ner- 
 vously. 
 
 " And your young doctor — why does he not come down and 
 have his glass of toddy like a man ?" said the Laird, getting his 
 own tumbler. - " The young men nowadays are just as frighten- 
 ed as children. What with their chemistiy, and their tubes, and 
 their percentages of alcohol — there was none of that nonsense 
 when I was a young man. People took what they liked, so long 
 as it agreed with them ; and will anybody tell me there is any 
 harm in a glass of good Scotch whiskey ?" 
 
 She does not answer; she looks somewhat preoccupied and 
 anxious. 
 
 "Ay, ay," continues the Laird, reaching over for the sugar; 
 " if people would only stop there, there is nothing in the world 
 makes such an excellent nightcap as a single glass of good Scotch 
 whiskey. Now, ma'am, I will just beg you to try half a glass of 
 my brewing." 
 
 She pays no attention to him ; for, first of all, she now hears 
 a light step on the companion- way, and then the door of the 
 ladies' cabin is opened, and shut again ; then a heavy step on 
 the companion -way, and Dr. Sutherland comes into the saloon. 
 There is a strange look on his face — not of dejection ; but he 
 tries to be very reticent and modest, and is inordinately eager in 
 handing a knife to the Laird for the cutting of a lemon. 
 
 " Where is Mary, Angus?" said his hostess, looking at liim. 
 
 " She has gone into your cabin," said he, looking up with a
 
 " YE ARE WELCOME, GLENOGIE." 333 
 
 sort of wistful appeal in his eyes. As plainly as possible they 
 said, " Won't you go to her ?" 
 
 The unspoken request was instantly answered ; she got up and 
 quietly left the saloon. 
 
 " Come, lad," said the Laird. " Are ye afraid to try a glass of 
 Scotch whiskey ? You chemical men know too much : it is not 
 wholesome ; and you a Scotchman, too. Take a glass, man !" 
 
 "Twelve, if you like," said the doctor, laughing ; " but one will 
 do for my purpose. I'm going to follow your example, sir; I 
 am going to propose a toast. It is a good old custom." 
 
 This was a proposal after the Laird's own heart. He insisted 
 on the women being summoned ; and they came. He took no 
 notice that Mary Avon was rose-red, and downcast of face, and 
 that the elder woman held her hand tightly, and had obviously 
 been crying a little bit — not tears of sorrow. When they were 
 seated, he handed each a glass. Then he called for silence, wait- 
 ing to hear our doctor make a proper and courtly speech about 
 his hostess, or about the White Dove, or John of Skye, or any- 
 thing. 
 
 But what must have been the Laird's surprise when he found 
 that it was his own health that was being proposed ! And that 
 not in the manner of the formal oratory that the Laird admired, 
 but in a very simple and straightforward speech that had just a 
 touch of personal and earnest feeling in it. For the young doc- 
 tor spoke of the long days and nights we had spent together, far 
 away from human ken ; and how intimately associated people 
 became on board ship; and how thoroughly one could learn to 
 know and love a particular character through being brought into 
 such close relationship. And he said that friendships thus form- 
 ed in a week or a month might last for a lifetime. And he could 
 not say much, before the very face of the Laird, about all those 
 qualities which had gained for him something more than our 
 esteem — qualities especially valuable on board ship — good-humor, 
 patience, courtesy, light-hearted ness — 
 
 " Bless me !" cried the Laird, interrupting the speaker, in de- 
 fiance of all the laws that govern public oratory, " I maun stop 
 this — I maun stop this. Are ye all come together to make fun 
 of me — eh ? Have a care — hav.e a care !" 
 
 He looked round threateningly ; and his eye lighted with a 
 darker warning on Mary Avon.
 
 334 WHITE WINGS : a YACHTINa ROMANCE. 
 
 *' That lass, too," said lie ; " and I thought her a friend of 
 mine ; and she has come to make a fool of me like the rest ! 
 And so ye want to make me the Homesh o' this boat? Well, I 
 may be a foolish old man ; but ray eyes are open. I know what 
 is going on. Come here, my lass, until I tell ye something." 
 
 Mary Avon went and took the seat next him, and he put his 
 hand gently on her shoulder. 
 
 " Young people will have their laugh and their joke," said he. 
 
 " It was no joke at all," said she, warmly. 
 
 " Whisht, now. I say young people will have their laugh and 
 their joke at a foolish old man ; and who is to prevent them ? Not 
 me. But I'll tell ye what : ye may have your sport of me, on 
 one condition," 
 
 He patted her once or twice on the shoulder, just as if she was 
 a child. 
 
 " And the condition is this, my lass — that ye have the wedding 
 at Denny-mains." 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE EQUINOCTIALS AT LAST. 
 
 There was no dreaming of weddings at Denny-mains, or else- 
 where, for some of us that night. It had been blowing pretty 
 hard when we turned in ; but toward two or three o'clock the 
 wind increased to half a gale, while heavy showers kept rattling 
 along the decks. Then there were other sounds. One of the 
 men was heard to clamber up the iron ladder of the forecastle; 
 and as soon as he had put his head out, his contented exclamation 
 was, " Oh, ferry well ; go on !" Then he came below, and roused 
 his companions; presently there was a loud commotion on deck. 
 This was enough for our doctor. One could hear him rapidly 
 dressing in his little state-room ; then staggering througli the 
 saloon — for the wind was knocking about the White Dove con- 
 siderably ; then groping his way up the dark companion. For 
 some time there was a fine turmoil going on above. Another 
 anchor was thrown nut. The gig and dingey were brought in on 
 dock. All the skylights were fastened down, and the tarpaulins 
 put over. Then a woman's voice :
 
 THE EQUINOCTIALS AT LAST. 335 
 
 "Angus! Angus!" 
 
 The doctor came tumbling down the companion. By this time 
 we had got a candle lit in the saloon. 
 
 "What is it?" was heard from the partly open door of the la- 
 dies' cabin. 
 
 " Nothing at all. A bit of a breeze has sprung up." 
 
 "Mary says you must stay below. Never mind what it is. 
 You are not to go on deck again." 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 He came into the saloon — all wet and dripping, but exceeding- 
 ly pleased to have been thus thought of — and then he said, in a 
 tragic whisper, 
 
 " We are in for it at last." 
 
 " The equinoctials ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 So we turned in again, leaving the White Dove to haul and 
 strain at her cables all through the night — swaying, pitching, 
 groaning, creaking, as if she would throw herself free of her an- 
 chors altogether, and sweep away over to Glenelg. 
 
 Then, in the early morning, the gale had apparently increased. 
 While the women-folk remained in their cabin, the others of us 
 adventured up the companion-way and had a look out. It was 
 not a cheerful sight. All around, the green sea was being torn 
 along by the heavy wind ; the white crest of the waves being 
 whirled up in smoke ; the surge springing high on the rocks over 
 by Glenelg ; the sky almost black overhead ; the mountains that 
 ought to have been quite near us invisible behind the flying mists 
 of the rain. Then how the wind howled ! Ordinarily the sound 
 was a low, moaning bass — even lower than the sound of the 
 waves ; but then again it would increase and rise into a shrill 
 whistle, mostly heard, one would have said, from about the stand- 
 ing rigging and the cross-trees. But our observation of these 
 phenomena was brief, intermittent, and somewhat ignominious. 
 We had to huddle in the companion-way like jacks-in-the-box, for 
 the incautiously protruded head was liable to be hit by a blast of 
 rain that came along like a charge of No. 6 shot. Then we tum- 
 bled below for breakfast, and the scared women-folk made their 
 appearance. 
 
 "The equinoctials, Angus?" said Queen Titania, with some so- 
 lemnity of face.
 
 336 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING KOMANCE, 
 
 *' Ob, I suppose so," said he, cheerfully. 
 
 " Well, I have been through them two or three times before," 
 said she, " but never in an exposed place like this." 
 
 " We shall fight through it first-rate," said he — and you should 
 have seen Mary Avon's eyes ; she was clearly convinced that fif- 
 teen equinoctial gales could not do us the slightest harm so long 
 as this young doctor was on board. " It is a fine stroke of luck 
 that the gale is from the south-west. If it had come on from the 
 east, we should have been in a bad way. As it is, there is not a rock 
 between here and the opposite shore at Glenelg ; and even if we 
 drag our ancliors, we shall catch up somewhere at the other side." 
 
 " I hope we shall not have to trust to that," says Queen Ti- 
 tania, who in her time has seen something of the results of ves- 
 sels dragging their anchors. 
 
 As the day wore on, the fury of the gale still increased : the 
 wind moaning and whistling by turns, the yacht straining at her 
 cables, and rolling and heaving about. Despite the tender en- 
 treaties of the women. Dr. Angus would go on deck again ; for 
 now Captain John had resolved on lowering the top-mast, and also 
 on getting the boom and main-sail from their crutch down on to 
 the deck. Being above in this weather was far from pleasant. 
 The showers occasionally took the form of hail ; and so fiercely 
 were the pellets driven by the wind that they stung where they 
 hit the face. And the outlook around was dismal enough — the 
 green sea and its whirling spindrift ; the heavy waves breaking 
 all along the Glenelg shores ; the writhing of the gloomy sky. 
 We had a companion, by-the-way, in this exposed place — a great 
 black schooner that heavily rolled and pitched as she strained 
 at lier two anchors. The skipper of her did not leave her bows 
 for a moment the whole day, watching for the first symptom of 
 dragging. 
 
 Then that night. As the darkness came over, the wind 
 increased in shrillness, until it seemed to tear with a scream 
 through the rigging ; and though we were fortunately under the 
 lee of the Skye hills, we could hear the water smashing on the 
 bows of the yacht. As night fell, that shrill whistling and those 
 recurrent shocks grew in violence, until we began to wonder how 
 long the cables would liold. 
 
 " And if our anchors give, I wonder where we shall go to," 
 said Queen Titania, in rather a low voice.
 
 THE EQUINOCTIALS AT LAST. 337 
 
 *' I don't care," said Miss Avon, quite contentedly. 
 
 She was seated at dinner, and liad undertaken to cut up and 
 mix some salad that Master Fred had got at Loch Hourn. She 
 seemed wholly engrossed in that occupation. She offered some 
 to the Laird, very prettily ; and he would have taken it if it had 
 been hemlock. But when she said she did not care where the 
 White Dove might drift to, we knew very well what she meant. 
 And some of us may have thought that a time would perhaps 
 arrive when the young lady would not be able to have everything 
 she eared for in the world within the compass of the saloon of a 
 yaclit. 
 
 Now it is perhaps not quite fair to tell tales out of school ; but 
 still the truth is the truth. The two Avomen were, on the whole, 
 very brave throughout this business ; but on that particular night 
 the storm grew more and more violent, and it occurred to them 
 that they would escape the risk of being rolled out of their berths 
 if they came along into the saloon and got some rugs laid on the 
 floor. This they did ; and the noise of the wind and the sea 
 was so great that none of the occupants of the adjoining state- 
 rooms heard them. But then it appeared that no sooner had 
 they laid down on the floor — it is unnecessary to say that they 
 were dressed and ready for any emergency — than they were 
 mightily alarmed by the swishing of water below them. 
 
 " Mary ! Mary !" said the one, " the sea is rushing into the 
 hold." 
 
 The other, knowing less about yachts, said nothing ; but no 
 doubt, with the admirable unselfishness of lovers, thought it was 
 not of much consequence, since Angus Sutherland and she would 
 be drowned together. 
 
 But what was to be done? The only way to the forecastle 
 Avas through the doctor's state-room. There was no help for it ; 
 they first knocked at his door, and called to him that the sea was 
 rushing into the hold ; and then he bawled into the forecastle 
 until Master Fred, the first to awake, made his appearance, rub- 
 bing his knuckles into his eyes and saying, " Very well, sir ; is it 
 hot water or cold water ye want?" and then there was a general 
 commotion of the men getting on deck to try the pumps. And 
 all this brave uproar for nothing. There was scarcely a gallon 
 of water in the hold; but the women, by putting their heads 
 close to the floor of the saloon, had imagined that the sea was
 
 338 WHITE wings: a yachting komance. 
 
 rusLing in on tlaem. Such is the story of this night's adventures 
 as it was subsequently — and with some shamefacedness — related 
 to the writer of these pages. There are some people who, when 
 they go to sleep, sleep, and refuse to pay heed to twopenny- 
 halfpenny tumults. 
 
 Next morning the state of affairs was no better ; but there was 
 this point in our favor, that the White Dove, having held on so 
 long, was not now likely to drag her anchors and precipitate us 
 on the Glenelg shore. Again we had to pass the day below, 
 with the running accompaniment of pitching and groaning on 
 the part of the boat, and of the shrill clamor of the wind, and 
 the rattling of heavy showers. But as we sat at luncheon, a 
 strange thing occurred. A burst of sunlight suddenly came 
 through the skylight and filled the saloon, moving backward and 
 forward on the blue cushions as the yacht swayed, and delight- 
 ing everybody with the unexpected glory of color. You may 
 suppose that there was little more thought of luncheon. There 
 was an instant stampede for water-proofs, and a clambering up 
 the companion-waj". Did not this brief burst of sunlight por- 
 tend the passing over of the gale ? Alas ! alas ! when we got on 
 deck, we found the scene around us as wild and stormy as ever, 
 with even a heavier sea now racing up the Sound and thundering 
 along Glenelg. Hopelessly we went below again. The only 
 cheerful feature of our imprisonment was the obvious content of 
 those two young people. They seemed perfectly satisfied with 
 being shut up in this saloon ; and were always quite surprised 
 when Master Fred's summons interrupted their draughts or 
 bezique. 
 
 On the third day the wind came in intermittent squalls, which 
 was something; and occasionally there was a glorious burst of 
 sunshine that went flying across the gray-green driven sea. But 
 for the most part it rained heavily ; and the Ferdinand and Mi- 
 randa business was continued with much content. The Laird 
 had lost himself in Municipal Loudon. Oar Admiral-in-chief 
 was writing voluminous letters to two youths at school in Surrey, 
 which were to be posted if over we reached land again. 
 
 That night about ten o'clock a cheering incident occurred. 
 We heard the booming of a steam-whistle. Getting up on deck, 
 we could make out the lights of a steamer creeping along by the 
 Glenelg shore. That was the Clydesdale, going north. Would
 
 THE EQUINOCTIALS AT LAST. 339 
 
 she have faced Ardnamurchan if the equinoctials had not mod- 
 erated somewhat ? These were friendly lights. 
 
 Then on the fourth day it became quite certain that the gale 
 was moderating. The bursts of sunshine became more frequent ; 
 patches of brilliant blue appeared in the sky; a rainbow from 
 time to time appeared between us and the black clouds in the 
 east. With what an intoxication of joy we got out at last from 
 our long imprisonment, and felt the warm sunlight around us, 
 and watched the men get ready to lower the gig so as to estab- 
 lish once more our communications with the land. Mary Avon 
 would boldly have adventured into that tumbling and rocking 
 thing — she implored to be allowed to go : if the doctor were go- 
 ing to pull stroke, why should she not be allowed to steer ? But 
 she was forcibly restrained. Then away went the shapely boat 
 through the plunging waters — showers of spray sweeping from 
 her stem to stern — until it disappeared into the little bight of 
 Kyle Rhea. 
 
 The news brought back from the shore of the destruction 
 wrought by this gale — the worst that had visited these coasts for 
 three-and-twenty years — was terrible enough ; and it was coupled 
 with the most earnest warnings that we should not set out. But 
 the sunlight had got into the brain of these long-imprisoned peo- 
 ple, and sent them mad. They implored the doubting John of 
 Skye to get ready to start. They promised that if only he 
 would run up to Kyle Akin, they would not ask him to go far- 
 ther, unless the weather was quite fine. To move — to move — 
 that was their only desire and cry. 
 
 John of Skye shook his head ; but so far humored them as to 
 weigh one of the anchors. By-and-by, too, he had the top-mast 
 hoisted again : all this looked more promising. Then, as the 
 afternoon came on, and the tide would soon be turning, they 
 renewed their entreaties. John, still doubting, at length yielded. 
 
 Then the joyful uproar! All hands were summoned to the 
 halyards, for the main-sail, soaked through with the rain, was 
 about as stiff as a sheet of iron. And the weighing of the sec- 
 ond anchor — that was a cheerful sound indeed. We paid scarce- 
 ly any heed to this white squall that was coming tearing along 
 from the south. It brought both rain and sunlight with it ; for 
 a second or two we were enveloped in a sort of glorified mist — 
 then the next minute we found a rainbow shining between us 
 
 IG*
 
 340 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 and the black hull of tlie smack; presently we were in glowing 
 sunshine again. And then at last the anchor was got up, and the 
 sails filled to the wind, and the main-sheet slackened out. The 
 White Dove, released once more, was flying away to the northern 
 
 seas ! 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 FLIEH 1 AUF ! HINAUS !" 
 
 This splendid sense of life, and motion, and brisk excitement ! 
 We flew through the narrows like a bolt from a bow ; we had 
 scarcely time to regard the whirling eddies of the current. All 
 hands were on the alert, too, for the wind came in gusts from 
 the Skye hills, and this tortuous strait is not a pleasant place 
 to be taken unawares in. But the watching and work were alto- 
 gether delightful, after our long imprisonment. Even the grave 
 John of Skye was whistling "Fhir a bhata" to himself — some- 
 what out of tune. 
 
 The wild and stormy sunset was shining all along the shores 
 of Loch Alsh as we got out of the narrows and came in sight of 
 Kyle Akin. And here were a number of vessels, all storm-stayed, 
 one of them, in the distance, with her sail set. We discovered 
 afterward that this schooner had dragged her anchors and run 
 ashore at Balmacara ; she was more fortunate than many others 
 that suffered in this memorable gale, and was, at the moment we 
 passed, returning to her former anchorage. 
 
 The sunlight and the delight of moving had certainly got into 
 the heads of these people. Nothing would do for them but that 
 John of Skye should go on sailing all night. Kyle Akin ? they 
 would not hear of Kyle Akin. And it was of no avail that Cap- 
 tain John told them what he had heard ashore — that the Glencoe 
 had to put back, with her bulwarks smashed ; that here, there, 
 and everywhere vessels were on the rocks; that Stornoway Har- 
 bor was full of foreign craft, not one of which would put her 
 nose out. They pointed to the sea and the scene around them. 
 It was a lovely sunset. Would not the moon be up by eleven ? 
 
 " Well, mem," said John of Skye, with a humorous smile, " I 
 think if we go on the night, there not mich chance of our rin- 
 ning against anything."
 
 " FLiEii ! auf! iiinaus !" 341 
 
 And, indeed, he was not to be outbraved by a couple of women. 
 When we got to Kyle Akin, the dusk beginning to creep over 
 land and sea, he showed no signs of running in there for shelter. 
 We pushed through the narrow straits, and came in view of the 
 darkening plain of the Atlantic, opening away up there to the 
 north, and as far as we could see there was not a single vessel but 
 ourselves on all this world of water. The gloom deepened ; in 
 under the mountains of Skye there was a darkness as of mid- 
 night. But one could still make out ahead of us the line of the 
 Scalpa shore, marked by the white breaking of the waves. Even 
 when that grew invisible we had Rona light to steer by. 
 
 The stormy and unsettled look of the sunset had prepared us 
 for something of a dirty night, and as we went on both wind and 
 sea increased considerably. The south-westerly breeze that had 
 brought us so far at a spanking rate began to veer round to the 
 north, and came in violent squalls, while the long swell running 
 down between Raasay and Scalpa and the main-land caused the 
 White Dove to labor heavily. Moreover, the night got as black 
 as pitch, the moon had not arisen, and it was lucky, in this labo- 
 rious beating up against the northerly squalls, that we had the dis- 
 tant Rona light by which to judge of our whereabouts. 
 
 The two women were huddled together in the companion-way; 
 it was the safest place for them ; we ceuld just make out the two 
 dark figures in the ruddy glow coming up from the saloon. 
 
 " Isn't it splendid to be going like this," said Miss Avon, " af- 
 ter lying at anchor so long?" 
 
 Her friend did not answer. She had been chiefly instrumental 
 in persuading Captain John to keep on during the night, and she 
 did not quite like the look of things. For one thing, she had 
 perceived that the men were all now clad from head to foot in oil- 
 skins, though as yet there was nothing but spray coming on board. 
 
 Our young doctor came aft, and tried to get down the com- 
 panion-way without disturbing the two women. 
 
 " I am going below for my water-proof and leggings," said he 
 with a slight laugh. " There will be some fun before this night 
 is over." 
 
 The tone of the girl altered in a moment. 
 
 *' Oh, Angus," said she, grasping him by the arm, " pray don't 
 do that! Leave the men to work the boat. If there is any dan- 
 ger, why don't they make away for the land somewhere ?"
 
 342 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " There is no danger," said he, " but there will be a little water 
 by-and-by." 
 
 The volume of the great waves was certainly increasing, and a 
 beautiful sight it was to mark the red port light shining on the 
 rushing masses of foam as they swept by the side of the vessel. 
 Our whereabouts by this time had become wholly a matter of 
 conjecture with the amateurs, for the night was quite black ; how- 
 ever, Rona light still did us good service. 
 
 When Angus Sutherland came on deck again she was on the 
 port tack, and the wind had moderated somewhat. But this 
 proved to be a lull of evil omen. There was a low roar heard in 
 the distance, and almost directly a violent squall from the east 
 struck the yacht, sending the boom flying over before the skipper 
 could get hold of the main-sheet. Away flew the White Dove 
 like an arrow, with the unseen masses of water smashing over her 
 bows. 
 
 " In with the mizzen, boys !" called out John of Skye, and there 
 was a hurried clatter and stamping, and flapping of canvas. 
 
 But that was not enough, for this unexpected squall from the 
 east showed permanence, and as we were making in for the Sound 
 of Scalpa, we were now running free before the wind. 
 
 *' We'll tek the foresail off her, boys !" shouted John of Skye 
 airain ; and presently there was another rattle down on the deck. 
 
 Onward and onward we flew, in absolute darkness but for that 
 red light that made the sea shine like a foaming sea of blood. 
 And the pressure of the wind behind increased until it seemed 
 likely to tear the canvas oflf her spars. 
 
 " Down with the jib, then !" called out John of Skye ; and we 
 hoard, but could not see, the men at work forward. And still the 
 White Dove flew onward through the night, and the wind howled 
 and whistled through the rigging, and the boiling surges of foam 
 swept away from her side. There was no more of Rona light to 
 guide us now ; we were tearing through the Sound of Scalpa ; 
 and still this hurricane seemed to increase in fury. As a last re- 
 source, John of Skye had the peak lowered. We had now noth- 
 ing left but a main-sail about the size of a pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 As the night wore on, we got into more sheltered waters, being 
 under the lee of Scalpa; and we crept away down between that 
 island and Skye, seeking for a safe anchorage. It was a business 
 that needed a sharp lookout, for the waters are shallow here,
 
 "flieii! auf! iiinaus !" 343 
 
 and wc discovered one or two smacks at anclior, with no lights 
 up. They did not expect any vessel to run in from the open on 
 a night like this. 
 
 And at last we chose our place for the night, letting go both 
 anchors. Then we went below, into the saloon. 
 
 "And how do you like sailing in the equinoctials, Mary?" said 
 our hostess. 
 
 " I am glad we are all around this table again, and alive," said 
 the girl. 
 
 " I thought you said the other day you did not care whether 
 the yacht went down or not ?" 
 
 " Of the two," remarked Miss Avon, shyly, " it is perhaps bet- 
 ter that she should be afloat." 
 
 Angus was passing at the moment. He put his hand lightly 
 on her shoulder, and said, in a kind way, 
 
 " It is better not to tempt the unknown, Mary. Remember 
 what the French proverb says, ' Quand on est mort, c'est pour 
 longtemps.' And you know you have not nearly completed that 
 great series of White Dove sketches for the smoking-room at 
 Denny-mains." 
 
 " The smoking - room !" exclaimed the Laird, indignantly. 
 "There is not one of her sketches that will not have a place — 
 an honored place — in my dining-room : depend on that. Ye 
 will see — both of ye — what I will do with them ; and the sooner 
 ye come to see, the better." 
 
 We this evening resolved that if, by favor of the winds and 
 the valor of John of Skye, we got up to Portree next day, we 
 should at once telegraph to the island of Lewis (where we pro- 
 posed to cease these summer wanderings) to inquire about the 
 safety of certain friends of ours whom we meant to visit there, 
 and who are much given to yachting ; for the equinoctials must 
 have blown heavily into Loch Roag, and the little harbor at Bor- 
 va is somewhat exposed. However, it was not likely that they 
 would allow themselves to be caught. They know something 
 about the sea, and about boats, at Borva.
 
 344 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 AFTER THE GALE. 
 
 " Well, indeed !" exclaimed tlie Laird, on putting bis head out 
 next morning ; " tliis is wonderful — wonderful !" 
 
 Was it the long imprisonment in the darkness of the equinoc- 
 tials that made him welcome with so much delight this spectacle 
 of fair skies and sapphire seas, with the waves breaking white 
 in Scalpa Sound, and tbe sunlight shining along the Coolins? Or 
 was it not ratber our long isolation from tbe ordinary afEairs of 
 the world that made him greet with acclamation this picture of 
 brisk and busy human life, now visible from the deck of tbe 
 yacht? We were no longer alone in the world. Over there, 
 around tbe big black smacks — that looked like so many hens 
 with broods of chickens — swarmed a fleet of fishing-boats ; and 
 as rapidly as hands could manage it, both men and women were 
 shaking out tbe brown nets and securing the glittering silver 
 treasure of tbe sea. It was a picturesque sight — the stalwart, 
 brown-bearded men in their yellow oil-skins and huge boots ; tbe 
 bare-armed women in their scarlet short gowns ; tbe masses of 
 ruddy brown nets; the lowered sails. And then the Laird per- 
 ceived that he was not alone in regarding this busy and cheerful 
 scene. 
 
 Along there by the bulwarks, with one hand on the shrouds 
 and the other on the gig, stood Mary Avon, apparently watching 
 the boats passing to and fro between the smacks and the shore. 
 The Laird went gently up to her, and put his hand on her shoul- 
 der. Slie started, turned round suddenly, and then he saw, to 
 his dismay, that her eyes wore full of tears. 
 
 " What, what ?" said he, with a quick doubt and fear coming 
 over him. Had all his plans failed, then ? Was the girl still un- 
 happy ? 
 
 "What is it, lass? What is tbe matter?" said he, gripping 
 lier liand so as to get the truth from her. 
 
 By this time she bad dried her eyes.
 
 AFTER THE GALE. 345 
 
 " Nothing — nothing," said she, rather shamefacedly. " I was 
 only thinking about the song of ' Caller Herring ;' and how glad 
 those women must be to find their husbands come back this 
 morning. Fancy their being out on such a night as last night. 
 AYhat it must be to be a fisherman's wife — and alone on shore — " 
 
 " Toots, toots, lass !" cried the Laird, with a splendid cheerful- 
 ness ; for he was greatly relieved that this was all the cause of 
 the w^et eyes. "Ye arc jist giving way to a sentiment. I have 
 observed that people arc apt to be sentimental in the morning, 
 before they get their breakfast. What ! are ye peetying these 
 folk? I can tell ye this is a proud day for them, to judge by 
 they heaps o' fish. They are jist as happy as kings ; and as for 
 the risk o' their trade, they have to do what is appointed to 
 them. Why, does not that doctor friend o' yours say that the 
 happiest people are they who are hardest worked ?" 
 
 This reference to the doctor silenced the young lady at once. 
 
 *' Not that I have much right to talk about work," said the 
 Laird, penitently. " I believe I am becoming the idlest crayture 
 on the face of this world." 
 
 At this point a very pretty little incident occurred. A boat 
 was passing to the shore ; and in the stern of her was a young 
 fisherman — a handsome young fellow, with a sun -tanned face 
 and yellow beard. As they were going by the yacht, he caught 
 a glimpse of Miss Avon; then, when they had passed, he said 
 something in Gaelic to his two companions, who immediately 
 rested on their oars. Then he was seen rapidly to fill a tin can 
 with two or three dozen herrings ; and his companions backed 
 their boat to the side of the yacht. The young fellow stood up 
 in the stern, and with a shy laugh — but with no speech, for he 
 was doubtless nervous about his English — offered this present to 
 the young lady. She was very much pleased ; but she blushed 
 quite as much as he did. And she was confused, for she could 
 not summon Master Fred to take charge of the herrings, seeing 
 this compliment was so directly paid to herself. However, she 
 boldly gripped the tin can, and said, " Oh, thank you very much ;" 
 and by this time the Laird had fetclied a bucket, into which the 
 glittering beauties were slipped. Then the can was handed back, 
 with further and profuse thanks, and the boat pushed off. 
 
 Suddenly, and with great alarm, Miss Avon remembered that 
 Angus had taught her what Highland manners were.
 
 346 WHITE wings: a yachting romance. 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon !" she called out to the bearded young 
 fisherman, who instantly turned round, and the oars were stopped. 
 " I beg your pardon," said she, with an extreme and anxious po- 
 liteness, " but would you take a glass of whiskey ?" 
 
 " No, thank ye, mem," said the fisherman, with another laugh 
 of friendliness on the frank face ; and then away they went. 
 
 The girl was in despair. She was about to marry a High- 
 lander, and already she had forgotten the first of Highland cus- 
 toms. But unexpected relief was at hand. Hearing something 
 going on, John of Skye had tumbled up from the forecastle, and 
 instantly saw that the young lady was sorely grieved that those 
 friendly fishermen had not accepted this return compliment. He 
 called aloud, in Gaelic, and in a severe tone. The three men came 
 back, looking rather like school-boys who would fain escape from 
 an embarrassing interview. And then at the same moment Cap- 
 tain John, who had asked Fred to bring up the whiskey-bottle, 
 said, in a low voice, to the young lady, 
 
 " They would think it ferry kind, mem, if you would pour out 
 the whiskey with your own hand." 
 
 And this was done, Miss Mary going through the ceremony 
 without flinching ; and as each of the men was handed his glass, 
 he rose up in the boat, and took off his cap, and drank the health 
 of the young lady, in the Gaelic. And Angus Sutherland, when . 
 he came on deck, was greatly pleased to hear of what she had 
 done ; though the Laird took occasion to remark at breakfast that 
 he hoped it was not a common custom among the young ladies 
 of England to get up early in the morning to have clandestine 
 flirtations with handsome young fishermen. 
 
 Then all hands on deck ; for now there are two anchors to be 
 got in, and we must not lose any of this pleasant sailing breeze. 
 In these sheltered and shining waters there are scarcely any traces 
 of the recent rough weather, except that the wind still comes in 
 variable puffs, and from all sorts of unexpected directions. In 
 the main, however, it is north by cast, and so we have to set to 
 work to leisurely beat up the Sound of Raasay. 
 
 "Well, this is indeed like old times, Mary!" Queen Titania 
 cries, as she comfortably ensconces herself in a camp-chair; for 
 Miss Avon is at the helm, and the young doctor, lying at full 
 length on the sunlit deck, is watching the sails and criticising her 
 steering, and the Laird is demonstrating to a humble listener the
 
 AFTER THE GALE. 347 
 
 immeasurable advantages enjoyed by the Scotch landscape-paint- 
 ers, in that tliey have within so small a compass every variety of 
 mountain, lake, woodland, and ocean scenery. He becomes face- 
 tious, too, about Miss Mary's sketches. AVhat if he were to have 
 a room set apart for them at Denny-mains, to be called the White 
 Dove Gallery ? He might have a skilled decorator out from 
 Glasgow to devise the furniture and ornamentation, so tliat both 
 should suggest the sea, and ships, and sailors. 
 
 Here John of Skye comes aft. 
 
 " I think," says he to Miss Avon, with a modest smile, " we 
 might put the gaff top-sail on her." 
 
 "Oh yes, certainly," says this experienced mariner; and the 
 doctor, seeing an opportunity for bestirring himself, jumps to 
 his feet. 
 
 And so, with the top-sail shining white in the sun — a thing we 
 have not seen for some time — we leave behind us the gloomy 
 opening into Loch Sligachan, and beat up through the Raasay 
 narrows, and steal by the pleasant woods of Raasay House. The 
 Laird has returned to that project of the Marine Gallery, and he 
 has secured an attentive listener in the person of his hostess, who 
 prides herself that she has a sure instinct as to what is " right " 
 in mural decoration. 
 
 This is indeed like old times come back again. The light, cool 
 breeze, the warm decks, the pleasant lapping of the water, and 
 our steerswoman partly whistling and partly humming — 
 
 " They'll put a napkin round my e'en. 
 They'll no let me see to dee ; 
 And they'll never let on to my faither and mither, 
 But I am awa' o'er the sea." 
 
 And this she is abstractedly and contentedly doing, without any 
 notice of the fact that the song is supposed to be a pathetic one. 
 Then our young doctor : of what does he discourse to us dur- 
 ing this delightful day-dreaming and idleness ? Well, it has been 
 remarked by more than one of us that Dr. Angus has become 
 tremendously practical of late. You would scarcely have believed 
 that this was the young F.R.S. who used to startle the good Laird 
 out of his wits by his wild speculations about the origin of the 
 world and similar trifles. Now his whole interest seemed to be 
 centred on the commonest things : all the Commissioners of the
 
 348 WHITE wings: a YACIITINa ROMANCE. 
 
 Burgh of Stratligovan put together could not have been more 
 fierce than he was about tlic necessity of supplying houses with 
 pure water, for example. And the abuse that he heaped on the 
 Water Companies of London, more especially, and on the Govern- 
 ment which did not interfere, was so distinctly libellous that we 
 were glad no alien overheard it. 
 
 Then as to arsenic in wall-paper : he was equally dogmatic and 
 indignant about that ; and here it was his hostess, rather than the 
 Laird, who was interested. She eagerly committed to her note- 
 book a recipe for testing the presence of that vile metal in wall- 
 papers or anything else ; and some of us had mentally to thank 
 Heaven that she was not likely to get test-tubes, and zinc filings, 
 and hydrochloric acid in Portree. The woman would have blown 
 up the ship. 
 
 All this and much more was very different from the kind of 
 conversation that used so seriously to trouble the Laird. When 
 he heard Angus talk with great common-sense and abundant in- 
 formation about the various climates that suited particular con- 
 stitutions, and about the best soils for building houses on, and 
 about the necessity for strict municipal supervision of drainage, 
 he was ready to believe that our young doctor had not only for 
 his own part never handled that dangerous book, the " Vestiges of 
 Creation," but that he had never even known any one who had 
 glanced at its sophistical pages except with a smile of pity. 
 Why, all the time that we were shut up by the equinoctials, the 
 only profound and mysterious thing that Angus had said was 
 this: "There is surely something wrong when the man who 
 takes on himself all the trouble of drawing a bottle of ale is 
 bound to give his friend the first tumbler, which is clear, and 
 keep the second tumbler, which is muddy, for himself." But if 
 you narrowly look into it, you will find that there is really noth- 
 ing dangerous or unsettling in this saying — no grumbling against 
 the ways of Providence whatsoever. It was mysterious, per- 
 haps ; but then so would many of the nice points about the Scra- 
 pie case have been, had we not had with us an able expositor. 
 
 And on this occasion, as we were running along for Portree, 
 our F. R. S. was chiefly engaged in warning us against paying too 
 serious heed to certain extreme theories about food and drink 
 which were then being put forward by a number of distinguished 
 physicians.
 
 AFTER THE GALE. 349 
 
 " For people in good health, the very worst adviser is the doc- 
 tor," he was saying; when lie was gently reminded by his host- 
 ess that he must not malign his own calling, or destroy a super- 
 stition that might in itself have curative effects. 
 
 " Oh, I scarcely call myself a doctor," he said, " for I have no 
 practice as yet. And I am not denying the power of a physi- 
 cian to help nature in certain cases — of course not; but what I 
 say is that for healthy people the doctor is the worst adviser pos- 
 sible. Why, where does he get his experience ? — from the study 
 of people who are ill. lie lives in an atmosphere of sickness ; 
 his conclusions about the human body are drawn from bad speci- 
 mens ; the effects that he sees produced are produced on too 
 sensitive subjects. Very likely, too, if he is himself a distin- 
 guished physician, he has gone through an immense amount of 
 training and subsequent hard work ; his own system is not of 
 the strongest ; and he considers that what he feels to be injurious 
 to him must be injurious to other people. Probably so it might 
 be — to people similarly sensitive ; but not necessarily to people 
 in sound health. Fancy a man trying to terrify people by de- 
 scribing the awful appearance produced on one's internal econo- 
 my when one drinks half a glass of sherry ! And that," he add- 
 ed, " is a piece of pure scientific sensationalism ; for precisely the 
 same appearance is produced if you drink half a glass of milk." 
 
 *' I am of opinion," said the Laird, with the gravity befitting 
 such a topic, " that of all steemulants nothing is better or whole- 
 somer than a drop of sound, sterling whiskey." 
 
 "And where are you likely to get it?" 
 
 " I can assure ye, at Denny-mains — " 
 
 " I mean where are the masses of the people to get it ? "What 
 they get is a cheap white spirit, reeking with fusel-oil, with just 
 enough whiskey blended to hide the imposture. The decoction 
 is a certain poison. If the Government would stop tinkering 
 at Irish franchises, and Irish tenures, and Irish Universities, and 
 would pass a law making it penal for any distiller to sell spirits 
 that he has not had in bond for at least two years, they would do 
 a good deal more service to Ireland, and to this country too." 
 
 " Still, these measures of amelioration must have their effect," 
 observed the Laird, sententiously. " I would not discourage wise 
 legislation. We will reconcile Ireland sooner or later, if we are 
 prudent and conseederate."
 
 350 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " You may as well give them Home Rule at once," said Dr. 
 Angus, bluntly. "The Irish have no regard for the historical 
 grandeur of England ; how could they ? — they have lost their or- 
 gan of veneration. The coronal region of the skull has in time 
 become depressed, through frequent shillalah practice." 
 
 For a second the Laird glanced at him : there was a savor of 
 George Combe about this speech. Could it be that he believed 
 in that monstrous and atheistical theory ? 
 
 But no ; the Laird only laughed, and said, 
 
 " I would not like to have an Irishman hear ye say so." 
 
 It was now abundantly clear to us that Denny-mains could no 
 longer suspect of anything heterodox and destructive this young 
 man who was sound on drainage, pure air, and a constant supply 
 of water to the tanks. 
 
 Of course, we could not get into Portree without Ben Inivaig 
 having a tussle with us. This mountain is the most inveterate 
 brewer of squalls in the whole of the West Highlands, and it is 
 his especial delight to catch the unwary, when all their eyes are 
 bent on the safe harbor within. But we were equal with him. 
 Although he tried to tear our masts out and frighten us out of 
 our senses, all that he really succeeded in doing was to put us to 
 a good deal of trouble, and break a tumbler or two below. We 
 pointed the finger of scorn at Ben Inivaig. We sailed past him, 
 and took no more notice of him. With a favoring breeze, and 
 with our top-sail still set, we glided into the open and spacious 
 harbor. 
 
 But that first look round was a strange one. Was this really 
 Portree Harbor, or were we so many Rip Van Winkles? There 
 were the shining white houses, and the circular bay, and the 
 wooded cliffs; but where were the yachts that used to keep the 
 place so bright and busy ? There was not an inch of white can- 
 vas visible. We got to anchor near a couple of heavy smacks ; 
 the men looked at us as if we had dropped from the skies. 
 
 We went ashore and walked up to the telegraph-office to sec 
 whether the adjacent islands of Great Britain and Ireland — as 
 the Cumbrac minister called them — had survived the equinoc- 
 tials ; and learned only too accurately what serious mischief had 
 l>een done all along these coasts by the gale. From various 
 points, moreover, we subsequently received congratulations on 
 our escape, until we almost began to believe that we had really
 
 AFTER THE GALE. 351 
 
 been in serious peril. For tlie rest, our friends at Borva were 
 safe enough ; they had not been on board their yacht at all. 
 
 That evening, in the silent and deserted bay, a council of war 
 was held on deck. We were not, as it turned out, quite alone ; 
 there had also come in a steam-yacht, the master of which in- 
 formed our John of Skye that such a gale he had not seen for 
 three-and-twenty years. He also told us that there was a heavy 
 sea running in the Minch ; and that no vessel would try to cross. 
 Stornoway Harbor, we already knew, was filled with storm-stayed 
 craft. So we had to decide. 
 
 Like the very small and white-faced boy who stood forth to 
 declaim before a school full of examiners and friends, and who 
 raised his hand, and announced in a trembling falsetto that his 
 voice was still for war, it was the women who spoke first, and 
 they were for going right on the next morning. 
 
 " Mind," said Angus Sutherland, looking anxiously at certain 
 dark eyes ; " there is generally a good sea in the Minch in the 
 best of weathers ; but after a three or four days' gale — well — " 
 
 " I, for one, don't care," said Miss Avon, frankly regarding 
 him. 
 
 "And I should like it," said the other woman, "so long as 
 there is plenty of wind. But if Captain John takes me out into 
 the middle of the Minch and keeps me rolling about on the 
 Atlantic in a dead calm, then something will befall him that his 
 mother knew nothing about." 
 
 Here Captain John was emboldened to step forward, and to 
 say, with an embarrassed politeness, 
 
 " I not afraid of anything for the leddies ; for two better sail- 
 ors I never sah ahl my life-long." 
 
 However, the final result of our confabulation that night was 
 the resolve to get under way next morning, and proceed a certain 
 distance until we should discover what the weather was like out- 
 side. With a fair wind, we might run the sixty miles to Storno- 
 way before night ; without a fair wind, there was little use in 
 our adventuring out to be knocked about in the North Minch, 
 where the Atlantic finds itself jammed into the neck of a bottle, 
 and rebels in a somewhat frantic fashion. AVe must do our 
 good friends in Portree the justice to say that they endeavored 
 to dissuade us; but then we had sailed in the White Dove be- 
 fore, and had no great fear of her leading us into any trouble.
 
 352 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 And so, good-night ! — good-night ! We can scarcely believe 
 that this is Portree Harbor, so still and quiet it is. All the sum- 
 mer fleet of vessels have fed ; the year is gone with them ; soon 
 we, too, must betake ourselves to the south. Good -night! — 
 good-night ! The peace of the darkness falls over us ; if there 
 is any sound, it is the sound of singing in our dreams. 
 
 :N;=F- 
 
 ^g?5 
 
 S^: 
 
 CHAPTER XLVHI. 
 
 A GOOD ONE FOR THE LAST. 
 
 "Ah, well, well," said the Laird, somewhat sadly, to his host- 
 ess, " I suppose we may now conseeder that we have started on 
 our last day's sailing in the White Dove?'''' 
 
 " I suppose so," said she ; and this was before breakfast, so 
 she may have been inclined to be a bit sentimental too. 
 
 " I'm thinking," said he, " that some of us may hereafter look 
 back on this sailing as the longest and grandest holiday of their 
 life, and will recall the name of the White Dove with a certain 
 amount of affection. I, for one, feel that I can scarcely justify 
 myself for withdrawing so long from the duties that society de- 
 mands from every man ; and no doubt there will be much to set 
 right when one goes back to Strathgovan. But perhaps one has 
 been able to do something even in one's idleness — " 
 
 He paused here, and remained silent for a moment or two. 
 
 " What a fine thing," he continued, " it must be for a doctor 
 to watch the return of health to a patient's face — to watch the 
 color coming back, and the eyes looking happy again, and the 
 spirits rising ; and to think that maybe he has helped. And if 
 he happens to know the patient, and to be as anxious about her 
 as if she were his own child, do not ye think he must be a proud 
 man when he sees the results of what he has done for her, and 
 when he hears her begin to laugh again ?" 
 
 Despite the Laird's profound ingenuity, we knew very well 
 who that doctor was. And we had learned something about the
 
 " A GOOD ONE FOK THE LAST." 353 
 
 affection which this mythical physician had acquired for this 
 imaginary patient. 
 
 " What a sensitive bit crayture she is !" said he, suddenly, as 
 if he were now talking of some quite different person. " Have 
 ye seen the difference the last few days have made on her face — 
 have ye not observed it ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed I have." 
 
 " Ye would imagine that her face was just singing a song from 
 the morning till the night — I have never seen any one with such 
 expressive eyes as that bit lass has — and — and — it is fairly a 
 pleasure to any one to look at the happiness of them." 
 
 " Which she owes to you, sir." 
 
 " To me ?" said the Laird. " Dear me ! — not to me. It was 
 a fortunate circumstance that I was with ye on board the yacht, 
 that is all. What I did no man who had the chance could have 
 refused to do. No, no ; if the lass owes any gratitude to any- 
 body or anything it is to the Semple case." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Just so, ma'am," said the Laird, composedly. *' I will con- 
 fess to ye that a long holiday spent in sailing had not that at- 
 traction for me it might have had for others — though I think I 
 have come to enjoy it now with the best of ye ; but I thought, 
 when ye pressed me to come, that it would be a grand opportu- 
 nity to get your husband to take up the Semple case, and master 
 it thoroughly, and put its merits in a just manner before the pub- 
 lic. That he does not appear to be as much interested in it as I 
 had reason to expect, is a misfortune — perhaps lie will grow to 
 see the importance of the principles involved in it in time ; but 
 I have ceased to force it on his attention. In the mean while we 
 have had a fine, long holiday, which has at least given me leisure 
 to consider many schemes for the advantage of my brother pa- 
 reeshioners. Ay ; and where is Miss Mary, though ?" 
 
 " She and Angus have been up for hours, I believe," said his 
 hostess. " I heard them on deck before we started anyway." 
 
 " I would not disturb them," said the Laird, with much consid- 
 eration. " They have plenty to talk about — all their life open- 
 ing up before them — like a road through a garden, as one might 
 say. And whatever befalls them hereafter I suppose they will 
 always remember the present time as the most beautiful of their 
 existence — the wonder of it, the newness, the hope. It is a strange
 
 354 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 thing that. Ye know, ma'am, that our garden at Denny-mains, 
 if I may say so, is far from insigneeficant. It has been great- 
 ly commended by experienced landscape-gardeners. Well, now, 
 that garden, when it is just at its fullest of summer color — with 
 all its dahlias and hollyhocks and what not — I say ye cannot 
 get half as much delight from the whole show as ye get from 
 the first glint o' a primrose, as ye are walking through a wood 
 on a bleak March da}^, and not expecting to see anything of the 
 kind. Does not that make your heart jump ?" 
 
 Here the Laird had to make way for Master Fred and the 
 breakfast-tray. 
 
 " There is not a bairn about Strathgovan," he continued, with 
 a laugh, " knows better than myself where to find the first prim- 
 roses and blue-bells and the red dead-nettle, ye know, and so on. 
 Would ye believe it, that poor crayture Johnnie Guthrie was for 
 cutting down the hedge in the Coulterburn Road, and putting up 
 a stone dike !" Here the Laird's face grew more and more stern, 
 and he spoke with unnecessary vehemence. " I make bold to 
 say that the man who would cut down a hawthorn hedge where 
 the children go to gather their bits o' flowers, and would put in 
 its place a stone wall for no reason on the face of the earth, I 
 say that man is an ass — an intolerable and perneecious ass !" 
 
 But this fierceness instantly vanished, for here was Mary Avon 
 come in to bid him good-morning. And he rose and took both 
 her hands in his and regarded the upturned, smiling face and the 
 speaking eyes. 
 
 " Ay, ay, lass," said he, with great satisfaction and approval, 
 " ye have got the roses into your cheeks at last. That is the 
 morning air — the ' roses weet wi' dew ' — it is a fine habit that of 
 early rising. Dear me, what a shilpit bit thing ye were when I 
 first saw ye about three months ago. And now I dare say ye arc 
 just as hungry as a hawk with walking up and down the deck in 
 the sea-air — we will not keep yc waiting a moment." 
 
 The Laird got her a chair, next his own, of course; and then 
 rung Master Fred's bell violently. 
 
 "How's licr head, skipper?" said Queen T., when the young 
 doctor made his ajipearance — he had roses, too, in his checks, 
 freshened by the morning air. 
 
 " Well," said he, frankly, as he sat down, " I think it would 
 be judicious to have breakfast over as soon as possible ; and get
 
 "a good one for the last." 355 
 
 the things stowed away. We arc flying up the Sound of Raasay 
 like a witch on a broom ; and there will be a roaring sea when 
 Ave get beyond the shelter of Skye." 
 
 " We have been in roaring seas before," said she, confidently. 
 
 "We met a schooner coming into Portree Harbor this morn- 
 ing," said he, with a dry smile. " She left yesterday afternoon 
 just before we got in. They were at it all night, but had to run 
 back at last. They said they had got quite enough of it." 
 
 This was a little more serious, but the women were not to be 
 daunted. They had come to believe in the White Dove being 
 capable of anything, especially when a certain aid to John of 
 Skye was on board. For the rest, the news was that the day was 
 lovely, the wind fair for Stornoway, and the yacht flying north- 
 ward like an arrow. 
 
 There was a certain solemnity, nevertheless, or perhaps only 
 an unusual elaborateness, about our preparations before going on 
 deck. Gun-cases were wedged in in front of canvases, so that 
 Miss Avon's sketches should not go rolling onto the floor; all 
 such outlying skirmishers as candlesticks, aneroids, draught-boards, 
 and the like, were moved to the rear of compact masses of rugs ; 
 and then the women were ordered to array themselves in their 
 water-proofs. Water-proofs ? — and the sun flooding through the 
 skylight. But they obeyed. 
 
 Certainly there did not seem to be any great need for water- 
 proofs when we got above, and had the women placed in a se- 
 cure corner of the companion-way. It was a brilliant, breezy, 
 blue-skied morning, with the decks as yet quite white and dry, 
 and with the long mountainous line of Skye shining in the sun. 
 The yacht was flying along at a famous pace before a fresh and 
 steady breeze ; already we could make out, far away on the 
 northern horizon, a pale, low, faint-blue line, which we knew to 
 be the hills of southern Lewis. Of course, one had to observe 
 that the vast expanse of sea lying between us and that far line 
 was of a stormy black ; moreover, the men had got on their oil- 
 skins, though not a drop of spray was coming on board. 
 
 As we spun along, however, before the freshening wind, the 
 crashes of the waves at the bows became somewhat more heavy, 
 and occasionally some jets of white foam would spring up into 
 the sunlight. When it was suggested to Captain John that he 
 miglit set the gaflE top-sail, he very respectfully and shylv shook 
 
 17
 
 356 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 bis bead. For one tbing, it was ratber strange tbat on tbis wide 
 expanse of sea not a solitary vessel was visible. 
 
 Fartber and fartber nortbward. And now one bas to look out 
 for the wbite water springing over the bows, and tbere is a gen- 
 eral ducking of heads when the crash forward gives warning. 
 The decks are beginning to glisten now ; and Miss Avon has re- 
 ceived one sharp admonition to be more careful, which has some- 
 what damped and disarranged her hair. And so the White Dove 
 still flies to the north — like an arrow — like a witch on a broom 
 — like a hare, only that none of these things would groan so much 
 in getting into the deep troughs of the sea ; and not even a witch 
 on a broom could perform such capers in the way of tumbling 
 and tossing, and pitching and rolling. 
 
 However, all this was mere child's play. We knew very well 
 when and where we should really " get it ;" and we got it. Once 
 out of the shelter of the Skye coast, we found a considerably 
 heavy sea swinging along the Minch, and the wind was still fresh- 
 ening up, insomuch that Captain John had to take the mizzen and 
 fore sail oflE her. How splendidly those mountain-masses of waves 
 came heaving along — apparently quite black until they came near, 
 and then we could see the sunlight shining green through the 
 breaking crest; then there was a shock at the bows tbat caused 
 the yacht to shiver from stem to stern ; then a high springing 
 into the air, followed by a heavy rattle and rush on the decks. 
 The scuppers were of no use at all ; there was a foot and a half 
 of hissing and seething salt-water all along the lee bulwarks, and 
 when the gangway was lifted to let it out the next rolling wave 
 only spouted an equal quantity up on deck, soaking Dr. Angus 
 Sutherland to the shoulder. Then a heavier sea than usual struck 
 her, carrying off the cover of the fore-hatch and sending it spin- 
 ning aft; while at the same moment a voice from the forecastle 
 informed Captain John in an injured tone tbat this last invader 
 had swamped the men's berths. What could he do but have the 
 main tack hauled up to lighten the pressure of the wind ? The 
 waters of the Minch, when once they rise, are not to bo stilled by 
 a bottle of salad oil. 
 
 We had never before seen the ordinarily buoyant White Dove 
 take in such masses of water over her bows ; but we soon got ac- 
 customed to the seething lake of water along the lee scuppers, 
 and allowed it to subside or increase as it liked. And the wonien
 
 "a good one for the last." 357 
 
 were now seated a step lower on the conipanion-way, so that the 
 rags of the waves flew by them without touching them ; and 
 there was a good deal of laughing and jesting going on at the 
 clinging and stumbling of any unfortunate person who had to 
 make his way along the deck. As for our indefatigable doctor, 
 his face had been running wet with salt-water for hours ; twice 
 he had slipped and gone headlong to leeward ; and now, with a 
 rope double twisted round the tiller, he was steering, his teeth set 
 hard. 
 
 " Well, Mary," shrieked Queen Titania into her companion's 
 ear ; " we are having a good one for the last !" 
 
 " Is he going up the mast ?" cried the girl, in great alarm. 
 
 " I say we are having a good one for the last !" 
 
 " Oh yes 1" was the shout in reply. " She is indeed going 
 fast." 
 
 But about mid-day we passed within a few miles to the east of 
 the Shiant Islands, and here the sea was somewhat moderated, so 
 we tumbled below for a snack of lunch. The women wanted to 
 devote the time to dressing their hair and adorning themselves 
 anew ; but purser Sutherland objected to this altogether. He 
 compelled them to eat and drink while that was possible ; and 
 several toasts were proposed — briefly, but with much enthusiasm. 
 Then we scrambled on deck again. We found that John had 
 hoisted his foresail again, but he had let the mizzen alone. 
 
 Northward and ever northward — and we are all alone on this 
 wide, wide sea. But that pale line of coast at the horizon is be- 
 ginning to resolve itself into definite form — into long, low head- 
 lands, some of which are dark in shadow, others shining in the 
 sun. And then the cloud-like mountains beyond: can these be 
 the far Suainabhal and Mealasabhal, and the other giants that 
 look down on Loch Roag and the western shores ? They seem 
 to belong to a world beyond the sea. 
 
 Northward and ever northward ; and there is less water coming 
 over now, and less groaning and plunging, so that one can hear 
 one's self speak. And what is this wagering on the part of the 
 doctor that we shall do the sixty miles between Portree and 
 Stornoway within the six hours? John of Skye shakes his head ; 
 but he has the main tack liauled down. 
 
 Then, as the day wears on, behold ! a small white object in that 
 line of blue. The cry goes abroad : it is Stornoway light !
 
 358 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 " Come, now, John !" the doctor calls aloud ; " within the six 
 hours — for a glass of whiskey and a lucky sixpence !" 
 
 " We not at Styornaway light yet," answered the prudent John 
 of Skye, who is no gambler. But all the same, he called two of 
 the men aft to set the mizzen again ; and as for himself, he threw 
 oS his oil-skins and appeared in his proud uniform once more. 
 This looked like business. 
 
 Well, it was not within the six hours, but it was within the six 
 hours and a half, that we sailed past Stornoway light-house and its 
 outstanding perch ; and past a floating target with a red flag, for 
 artillery practice; and past a bark which had been driven ashore 
 two days before, and now stuck there, with her back broken. And 
 this was a wonderful sight — after the lone, wide seas — to see such 
 a mass of ships of all sorts and sizes crowded in here for fear of 
 the weather. We read their names in the strange foreign type 
 as we passed — Die Heimath^ Georg Washincfton, Friedrich der 
 Grosse, and the like — and we saw the yellow-haired Norsemen 
 pulling between the vessels in their odd-looking, double-bowed 
 boats. And was not John of Skye a proud man that day as he 
 stood by the tiller in his splendor of blue and brass buttons, 
 knowing that he had brought the White Dove across the Avild 
 waters of the Minch, when not one of these foreigners would put 
 his nose outside the harbor ? 
 
 The evening light was shining over the quiet town, and the 
 shadowed castle, and the fir-tipped circle of hills, when the White 
 Dove rattled out her anchor-chain and came to rest. And as this 
 was our last night on board, there was a good deal of packing and 
 other trouble. It was nearly ten o'clock when we came together 
 again. 
 
 The Laird was in excellent spirits that night, and was more 
 than ordinarily facetious ; but his hostess refused to be comfort- 
 ed. A thousand Ilomeshes could not have called up a smile; 
 for she had grown to love this scrambling life on board ; and 
 she had acquired a great affection for the yacht itself ; and now 
 she looked round this old and familiar saloon, in which we had 
 spent so many snug and merry evenings together, and she knew 
 she was looking at it for the last time. 
 
 At length, however, the Laird bethought liimself of arousing 
 her from her sentimental sadness, and set to work to joke her out 
 of it. He told her she was behaving like a school-girl come to
 
 ADIEU ! 359 
 
 tlie end of lier holiday. Well, she only further behaved like a 
 school-girl by letting her lips begin to tremble ; and then she 
 stealthily withdrew to her own cabin, and doubtless had a good 
 cry there. There was no help for it, however : the child had to 
 give up its plaything at last. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 ADIEU ! ' 
 
 Next morning, also : why should this tender melancholy still 
 dwell in the soft and mournful eyes ? The sunlight was shining 
 cheerfully on the sweep of wooded hill, on the gray castle, on the 
 scattered town, and on the busy quays. Busy was scarcely the 
 word : there was a wild excitement abroad, for a vast take of 
 herring had just been brought in. There, close in by the quays, 
 were the splendidly-built luggers, with their masts right at their 
 bows; and standing up in them their stalwart crews, bronze-faced, 
 heavy-bearded, with oil-skin caps, and boots up to their thighs; 
 then on the quays above the picturesquely-eostumed women busy 
 at the salting ; and agents eagerly chaffering with the men ; and 
 empty barrels coming down in unknown quantities. Bustle, life, 
 excitement pervaded the whole town; but our tender-hearted 
 hostess, as we got ashore, seemed to pay no heed to it. As she 
 bade good-bye to the men, shaking hands with each, there were 
 tears in her eyes ; if she had wished to cast a last glance in the 
 direction of the White Dove, she could scarcely have seen the 
 now still and motionless craft. 
 
 But by-and-by, when we had left our heavier luggage at the 
 inn, and when we set out to drive across the island to visit some 
 friends of ours who live on the western side, she grew somewhat 
 more cheerful. Here and there a whiff of the fragrant peat- 
 smoke caught us as we passed, bringing back recollections of 
 other days. Then she had one or two strangers to inform and 
 instruct ; and she was glad that Mary Avon had a bright day for 
 her drive across the Lewis. 
 
 "But what a desolate place it must be on a wet day," that 
 young person remarked, as she looked away across the undulating 
 moors, vast, and lonely, and silent.
 
 360 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 Now, at all events, the drive was pleasant enougli ; for the sun- 
 light brought out the soft ruddy browns of the bog-land, and ever 
 and again the blue-and-white surface of a small loch flashed back 
 the daylight from amidst that desolation. Then occasionally the 
 road crossed a brawling stream, and the sound of it was grate- 
 ful enough in the oppressive silence. In due course of time we 
 reached Garra-na-hina. 
 
 Our stay at the comfortable little hostelry was but brief, for 
 the boat to be sent by our friends had not arrived, and it was 
 proposed that in the mean time we should walk along the coast 
 to show our companions the famous stones of Callernish. By 
 this time Queen Titania had quite recovered her spirits, and ea- 
 gerly assented, saying how pleasant a Avalk would be after our 
 long confinement on shipboard. 
 
 It was indeed a pleasant walk, through a bright and cheerful 
 piece of country. And as we went along we sometimes turned to 
 look around us — at the waters of the Black River, a winding line 
 of silver through the yellow and brown of the morass ; and at the 
 placid blue waters of Loch Roag, with the orange line of sea-weed 
 round the rocks ; and at the far blue bulk of Suainabhal. We 
 did not walk very fast; and, indeed, we had not got anywhere 
 near the Callernish stones, when the sharp eye of our young 
 doctor caught sight of two new objects that had come into this 
 shining picture. The first was a large brown boat, rowed by four 
 fishermen; the second was a long and shapely boat — like the 
 pinnace of a yacht — also pulled by four men, in blue jerseys and 
 scarlet caps. There was no one in the stern of the big boat ; but 
 in the stern of the gig were three figures, as far as we could make 
 out. 
 
 Now, no sooner had our attention been called to the two boats 
 which had just come round the point of an island out there, than 
 our good Queen Titania became greatly excited, and would have 
 us all go out to the top of a small headland and frantically wave 
 our handkerchiefs there. Then we perceived that the second boat 
 instantly changed its course, and was being steered for the point 
 on which we stood. We descended to the shore and went out on 
 to some rocks. Queen Titania becoming quite liystcrical. 
 
 "Oh, how kind of her! how kind of her!" she cried. 
 
 For it now appeared that these three figures in the stern of the 
 white pinnace were the figures of a young lady, who was ob-
 
 adieu! 3G1 
 
 viously steering, and of two small boys, one on each side of ber, 
 and botb dressed as young sailors. And tbe steerswoman — sbe 
 bad sometbing of a sailor -look about ber, too ; for sbo was 
 dressed in navy-blue ; and sbe wore a straw hat with a blue rib- 
 bon and letters of gold. But you would scarcely have looked at 
 the smart straw bat when you saw tbe bright and laughing face, 
 and the beautiful eyes that seemed to speak to you long before 
 sbe could get to shore. And then tbe boat was run into a small 
 creek; and tbe young lady stepped lightly out — she certainly 
 was young-looking, by -tbe -way, to be the mother of those two 
 small sailors — and she quickly and eagerly and gladly caught 
 Queen Titania with both her bands. 
 
 " Ob, indeed I beg your pardon," said she — and her speech 
 was exceedingly pleasant to hear — "but I did not think you 
 could be so soon over from Styornaway." 
 
 [Note by Qiieen Titania. — It appears that, now all our voyaging is over, and 
 %ve are about to retire into privacy again, I am expected, as on a previous oc- 
 casion, to come forward and address to you a kind of epilogue, just as they 
 do on the stage. This seems to me a sort of strange performance at the end 
 of a yachting cruise ; for what if a handful of salt-water were to come over 
 the bows, and put out my trumpery foot-lights ? However, what must be must, 
 as married women know ; and so I would first of all say a word to the many 
 kind people who were so very good to us in these distant places in the North. 
 You may think it strange to associate such things as fresh vegetables, or a 
 basket of flowers, or a chicken, or a bottle of milk, or even a bunch of white 
 heather, with sentiment ; but people who have been sailing in the West High- 
 lands do not think so — indeed, they know which is the most obliging and 
 friendly and hospitable place in the whole world. And then a word to the 
 reader. If I might hope that it is the same reader who has been with us in 
 other climes in other years — who may have driven with us along the devious 
 English lanes ; and crossed the Atlantic, and seen the big canons of the Rocky 
 Mountains ; and lived with us among those dear old people in the Black For- 
 est ; and walked with us on Mickleham Downs in the starlight, w^hy, then, he 
 may forgive us for taking him on such a tremendous long holiday in these 
 Scotch lochs. But we hope that if ever he goes into these wilds for himself, 
 he will get as good a skipper as John of Skye, and have as pleasant and true 
 a friend on board as the Laird of Denny-mains. Perhaps, I may add, just to 
 explain everything, that we are all invited to Denny-mains to spend Christr 
 mas ; and something is going to happen there ; and the Laird says that, so 
 far from objecting to a ceremony in the Episcopal church, he will himself be 
 
 17*
 
 362 WHITE WINGS : A YACHTING ROMANCE. 
 
 present and give away the bride. It is even hinted that Mr. Tom Galbraith 
 may come from Edinburgh, as a great compliment ; and then no doubt we 
 shall all be introduced to him. And so — Good-bye ! — Good-bye ! — and an- 
 other message — from the heart — to all the kind people who befriended us in 
 those places far away! — T.] 
 
 THE END.
 
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