athing.

"She is so much a pretty lady," Claire-Anne said. "So much like you,
Shane, in a way. She might be a young sister--a young, loved sister. And
where is your place on board when she sails?"

He pointed her out the space behind wheel and binnacle.

"Whenever there's any need, I'm there, just there."

"And Shane, great waves like you see in pictures--great enormous waves,
does she stand those?"

"Yes, great waves, like you see in pictures, she stands those. Drives
through them, and over them, and under them."

"And Solomon said"--she was just thinking aloud--"that he couldn't
understand the way of a ship on the sea. And he was immensely wise.
Dearest ... it can't be just wood and canvas, a ship ... power and grace
and beauty.... It's like great people...."

"They're as different as people are, Claire-Anne."

"Are they, Shane? I knew they weren't ... just things."

He took her below in the dusk of his cabin. She filled the space like
some gracious green tree.

"And here is where I live on board ship."

The Aberdeen terrier came forward to greet her, his tail waving gently,
his ears up, his brown eyes grave and warm.

"_Duine uasal! Duine uasal!_" she knelt to him.

"You remember?" He minded he had told her casually of the dog's name.

"Of course I remember! Shane, what does _Duine uasal_ mean?"

"_Gentilhomme_," he translated.

"He has the eyes," she said.

The framed manuscript of his father's verses caught her eyes, and she
looked at him in inquiry.

"What is it?"

"A poem of my father's, in Gaidhlig, Claire-Anne. 'The Bed of Rushes.'"

"How queer the letters are! Slim and graceful, and powerful, too. Would
you read it, Shane?"

"_Leaba luachra_," he read, "a bed of rushes, _bhi fum areir_, was
beneath me last night, _agas do chaitheas amach e le banaghadb an lae_,
and I threw it out with the whitening of day. _Thainic mo chead gradh le
mo thaobh_, my hundred loves came to my side; _guala ee qualainn_,
shoulder to shoulder, _agas beal re beal_, and mouth to mouth."

"Now I know you better, Shane."

"How, dearest?"

"I know how you come by your--your sense of beauty, Shane. It's from
your father. You have it just as he had. But he could say and you can't,
Shane. You have it, but it doesn't come out that way. It comes out in
the sailing of the ship, Shane. You must sail beautifully. Shane, I
should love to see you sail."

With a quick movement she dropped on her knees, and her beautif