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 anywhere 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 assured the Laird, who said he particularly wanted a seal-skin or two and some skarts' feathers for a young lady, that he should not be disappointed. Knapdale, then, it was to be. was again flying through the water. The women took some little time to get their shawls and things ready: had they known what was awaiting them, they would have been more alert. For no sooner were we on deck than we perceived that the White Dove was tearing through the water without the slightest landmark or light to guide her. The breeze that had sprung up had swept before it a bank of sea-fog-a most unusual thing in these windy and changeable latitudes; and so dense was this fog that the land on all sides of us had disappeared, while it was quite impossible to say where Lismore Light-house was. Angus Sutherland had promptly surrendered the helm to John of Skye, and had gone forward. The men on the look-out at the bow were themselves invisible. "Oh, it iss 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 n'eil!" 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 the fog; they have not the least idea whether Lismore Light-house But in the mean time? Dinner found us in a dead calm. After dinner, when we came on deck, the sun had gone down; and in the pale, tender blue-gray of the twilight the golden star of Lismore Lighthouse was already shining. Then we had our warning lights put up-the port red light shedding a soft crimson glow on the-which is a solid object to run againstbow of the dingey, the starboard green light touching with a cold, wan color the iron shrouds. To crown all, as we were watching the dark shadows of Lismore Island, a thin, white, vivid line, like the edge of a shilling, appeared over the low hill; and then the full moon rose into the partially clouded sky. It was a beautiful night. is on port or starboard bow, or right astern, for the matter of that. They are huddled in a group about the top of the companion. They can only listen and wait. John of Skye's voice rings out again: 'Hector, can you not mek out the land yet?" “Cha n'eil !" "What does he say?" the Laird asks, almost in a whisper: he is afraid to distract attention at such a time. 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-swers. 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 "He says 'No,'" Angus Sutherland an"He can not make out the land. It is very thick; and there are bad rocks between Lismore and Duart. I think I will climb up to the cross-trees, and have a look round." What was this? A girl's hand laid for an instant on his arm; a girl's voice-low, | until it is suffused with a pale blue radiquick, beseeching-saying, "Oh no!" It was the trifle of a moment. "There is not the least danger," says he, lightly. "Sometimes you can see better at the cross-trees." Then the dim figure is seen going up the shrouds; but he is not quite up at the cross-trees when the voice of John of Skye is heard again: "Mr. Sutherland!" "All right, John!" and the dusky figure comes stumbling down and across the loose sheets on deck. "If ye please, sir," says John of Skye; and the well-known formula means that Angus Sutherland is to take the helm. Captain John goes forward to the bow. The only sound around us is the surging of the unseen waves. "I hope you are not frightened, Miss Avon," says Mr. Smith, quite cheerfully; though he is probably listening, like the rest of us, for the sullen 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 matters-"with Captain John on board. He sees better in a fog than most men in daylight." "We are in the safe-keeping of One greater than any Captain John," says the Laird, simply and gravely: he is not in any alarm. Then a call from the bow: ance; then suddenly we sail out into the beautiful moonlight, with the hills along the horizon all black under the clear and solemn skies. It is a pleasant sail into the smooth harbor on this enchanted night: the far windows of Castle Osprey are all aglow; the mariners are to rest for a while from the travail of the sea. And as we go up the moon-lit road, the Laird is jocular enough, and asks Mary Avon, who is his companion, whether she was prepared to sing "Lochaber no more" when we were going blindly through the mist. But our young doctor remembers that hour or so of mist for another reason. There was something in the sound of the girl's voice he can not forget. The touch of her hand was slight, but his arm has not even yet parted with the thrill of it. CHAPTER XXVIII. MISS AVON is seated in the garden in front of Castle Osprey, under the shade of a drooping ash. Her book lies neglected beside her on the iron seat; she is idly looking abroad on the sea and the mountains, now all aglow in the warm light of the afternoon. There is a clanging of a gate below. Presently up the steep gravel-path comes a tall and handsome young fellow, in full shooting accoutrement, with his gun over his shoulder. Her face instantly loses its dreamy expression. She welcomes him with a cheerful "Good-evening!" and asks what sport he has had. For answer he comes across the greensward, places his gun against the trunk of the ash, takes a "Is that the land, John?" Angus Suth-seat beside her, and puts his hands round erland asks, as the skipper comes aft. one knee. 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? "Oh, ay," says he, with a chuckle. "I wass thinking to myself it wass the loom of Duart I sah once or twice. And I wass saying to Hector if it wass his sweetheart he will look for, he will see better in the night." Then by-and-by this other object, to which all attention is summoned: the fog grows thinner and thinner; some one catches sight of a pale glimmering light on our port quarter, and we know that we have left Lismore Light-house in our wake. And still the fog grows thinner, "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 | Donald a most instructive companion. has been shot over only once-on the 12th. Very well; you shall hear the whole story. I met the keeper by appointment down at the quay. I don't know what sort of a fellow he is-Highlander or Lowlander; I am not such a swell at those things as my uncle is—but I should have said he talked a most promising mixture of Devonshire, Yorkshire, and Westmoreland-" 66 What was his name?" "I don't know," says the other, leisurely. "I called him Donald on chance; and he took to it well enough. I confess I thought it rather odd he had only one dog with him—an old retriever; but then, don't you know, the moor had been shot over only once; and I thought we might get along. As we walked along to the hill, Donald says, 'Dinna tha mind, sir, if a blackcock gets up; knock un ower, knock un ower, sir.'" At this point Miss Avon most unfairly bursts out laughing. "Why," she says, "what sort of countryman was he if he talked like that? That is how they speak in plays about the colliery districts." 6 "Oh, it's all the same," says the young man, quite unabashed. "I gave him my bag to carry, and put eight or ten cartridges in my pockets. A few mower, sir-a few mower, sir,' says Donald, and crams my pockets full. Then he would have me put cartridges in my gun even before we left the road; and as soon as we began to ascend the hill, I saw he was on the outlook for a straggler or two, or perhaps a hare. But he warned me that the shooting had been very bad in these districts this year, and that on the 12th the rain was so persistent that scarcely anybody went out. Where could we have been on the 12th ?-surely there was no such rain with us?" "But when you are away from the hills you miss the rain," remarks this profound meteorologist. "Ah! perhaps so. However, Donald said: 'His lordship went hout for an hour, and got a brace and a 'alf. His lordship is no keen for a big bag, ye ken; but is just satisfied if he can get a brace or a couple of brace afore luncheon. It is the exerceez he likes.' I then discovered that Lord had had this moor as part of his shooting last year; and I assured Donald I did not hunger after slaughter. So we climbed higher and higher. I found 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 confiscated in 1745; and how, when the government pardoned them, and ordered the land to be restored, the Campbells and Breadalbane, into whose hands it had fallen, kept all the best bits for themselves. I asked Donald why they did not complain. He only grinned. I suppose they were afraid to make a row. Then there was one MacDougall an admiral or captain, don't you know; and he sent a boat to rescue some shipwrecked men, and the boat was swamped. Then he would send another, and that was swamped too. The government, Donald informed me, wanted to hang him for his philanthropy; but he had influential friends, and he was let off on the payment of a large sum of money-I suppose out of what 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. Well, he did so. You would have thought he had let loose a sky-rocket! It was off and away-up hill and down dale—and all his whistling wasn't of the slightest use. 'He's a bit wild,' Donald had to admit; 'but if I had kent you were a-goin' shootin' earlier in the morning, I would have given him a run or two to take the freshness hoff. But on a day like this, sir, there's no scent; we will just have to walk them up; they'll lie as close as a water-hen.' So we left the dog to look after himself, and on we pounded. Do you see that long ridge of rugged hill?" He pointed to the coast-line beyond the bay. "Yes." "We had to climb that, to start with; and not even a glimpse of a rabbit all the way up. "Ave a care, sir,' says Donald; and I took down my gun from my shoulder, expecting to walk into a whole covey at least. 'His lordship shot a brace and a 'alf of grouse on this wery knoll the last day he shot over the moor last year.' And now there was less talking, don't you know; and we went cautiously through the heather, working every bit of it, until we got right to the end of the knoll. 'It's to place after place where his lordship had fine heather,' says Donald; 'bees would performed the most wonderful feats last dae well here.' So on we went; and Don- year. And, mind you, the dog wasn't ald's information began again. He point-ranging so wild now; if there had been ed out a house on some distant island where Alexander III. was buried. 'But where are the birds?' I asked of him at last. 'Oh,' says he, 'his lordship was never greedy after the shootin'. A brace or two afore luncheon was all he wanted. He 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." "Up there it was dreadful: not a breath of wind: the sun blistering. And still we ploughed through that knee-deep heather, with the retriever sometimes coming within a mile of us; and Donald back to his old families. It was the MacDonnells now; he said they had no right to that name; their proper name was MacAlister -Mack Mick Alister, I think he said. 'But where the dickens are the birds?' I 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 that his lordship aye stopped at.' The hint was enough; we had our dram. Then we went on, and on, and on, and on, until I struck work, and sat down, and waited for the luncheon basket." "We were so afraid Fred would be late," she said; "the men are all so busy down at the yacht." "What did it matter?" the Youth said, resignedly. "I was being instructed. He had got further back still now, to the Druids, don't you know, and the antiquity of the Gaelic language. "What was the river that ran by Rome?' 'The Tiber,' I said. 'And what,' he asked, 'was Tober in Gaelic but a spring or fountain?' And the Tamar in Devonshire was the same thing. And the various Usksuska, it seems, is the Gaelic for water. Well, I'm hanged if I know what that man did not talk about!" "But surely such a keeper must be invaluable," 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 the ghost of a shadow of a feather in the whole district, we must have seen it. Then we came to another well where his lordship used to stop for a drink. Then we arrived at a crest where no one who had ever shot on the moor had ever failed to get a brace or two. A brace or two! What we flushed was a covey of sheep that flew like mad things down the hill. Well, Donald gave in at last. He could not find words to express his astonishment. His lordship had never come along that highest ridge without getting at least two or three shots. And when I set out for home, he still stuck to it; he would not let me take the cartridges out of my gun; he assured me his lordship never failed to get a snipe or a blackcock on the way home. Confound his lordship!" "And is that all the story?" says the young lady, with her eyes wide open. "Yes, it is," says he, with a tragic gloom on the handsome face. "You have not brought home a single bird?" "Not a feather!-never saw one." "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 dressing for dinner today; we are all going down to the yacht after." "At all events," he says, "I must get my shooting things off. Much good I've done with 'em!" So he goes into the house, and leaves her alone. But this chat together seems to have brightened her up somewhat; and with a careless and cheerful air she goes over to the flower borders, and begins culling an assortment of various-hued blossoms. The evening is becoming cooler; she is not so much afraid of the sun's glare; it is a pleasant task; and she is singing, or humming, snatches of 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 conscious 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-" "I am so glad to hear that the White Dove will sail so much better now. must be so much more pleasant for you, when you understand all about it." A long time did I watch her, that very cold day near Christmas, when we travelled the whole way on the same road, and I found so much to attract in the changes of her face that I noticed nothing else without or within. She was alone, and appeared to be keeping a sharp look-out upon all her fellow-travellers, more from timidity, I think, than from any curiosity as regarded them. Every man who rose to go to the end of the car to get a drink of water, or to leave it for the pleasure of "a little smoke," or to lounge up to the stove from pure restlessness, immediately influenced her expression of countenance. At the first movement he would make she would start, look apprehensive as he rose, alarmed as he advanced toward her seat, terrified as he came close, and relieved in proportion as he lengthened the distance between them. I noticed, as time passed on, with increasing interest, every new alarm, and the expression each elicited depicted upon her speaking countenance, and was almost lost in conjecture as to where could be her destination, what her position in life, and antecedents, when I was suddenly startled by my wife's voice at my side, saying, "Theodore, what in the world do you see in that girl's face, that you have been watching her so intently for the last hour?" "My dear," I answered, "she is very pretty. She reminds me most forcibly of you when I first met you at-a-a-Newport." "I never went to Newport until I had been almost ten years married," said Mrs. Witherton. (My name is Theodore Witherton.) "Well," I said, "I mean at that time." "Then why did you not say 'ten years And then she goes into the house to put after our marriage?' I don't think that the flowers on the table. He, left alone, people can be too particular in their stategoes over to the iron seat beneath the ash-ments," said Mrs. W. "If every one obtree, 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. served this rule, fewer quarrels would occur in families, and society also, and less mischief be made." "Yes, my dear; I was only thinking at the moment of the likeness." "Likeness?" she said, sharply. "What likeness could any one possibly see between a dark girl with brown hair and eyes, and the long thin face that she has, and a round fair one, with blue eyes and light hair, like mine-at least," in answer to my glance, "like what mine was. However, if you are amused or interested in what you have been gazing at, I am quite satisfied." |