"Shenac," she said, "why did you not go to bed, as I bade you? I'll
need to begin on you, now that aunt is settled for the night. You are
tired, Shenac. Why don't you go to bed?"

Her cousin moved and made room for her on the step beside her. The
children were in bed, and Dan had gone away with one of Angus Dhu's men
to a preaching that was going on in a new kirk several miles away. It
was moonlight--so bright that they could see the shadows of the trees
far over the fields, and only a star was visible here and there in the
blue to which, for a time, the faces of both were upturned.

"You're tired, Shenac Bhan," said her cousin again; "more tired than
usual, I mean."

"No, not more tired than you are. Do you know, Shenac, your eyes look
twice as big as they used to do, and twice as black?"

"Do they? Well, so do yours. But no wonder that you are growing thin
and pale; for I do believe, you foolish Shenac Bhan, that it sometimes
comes into your mind that Allister may never come home. Now confess."

"I often think it," said Shenac, in an awed voice.

"Toch! I knew it by your face. You are as bad as my aunt."

"Do you never think so?" asked our Shenac.

"Think it!" said Shenac Dhu scornfully. "I trow not. Why should I
think it? I will not think it! He'll come and bring Evan. Oh, I'm
sure he'll come."

"Well, I'm not always hopeless; there is no reason," said Shenac. "He
did not say he would come at once; but he should write."

"Oh, you may be sure he has written and the letter has been lost. I
hardly ever take up a paper but I read of some ship that has gone down,
and think of the letters that must go down with it, and other things."

Each saw the emotions that the face of the other betrayed in the
moonlight.

"And think of the sailors," continued Shenac Dhu. "O Shenac, darling,
we are only wearying for a lost letter; but think of the lost sailors,
and the mothers and sisters that are waiting for them!" A strong
shudder passed over Shenac Bhan.

"I don't think you know what you are saying, Shenac," said she.

"Yes; about the lost letters, and the sailors," said Shenac Dhu
hurriedly. "The very worst that can happen to us is that we may lose
the letters. God would never give us the hope of seeing them, and then
let them be drowned in the sea."

The thought was too much for them, and they burst into bitter weeping.

"We are two fools," said Shenac Dhu, "frightening ourselves for nothing