gentle sentiment that possessed him--a pretty thing to
dream about during a summer's morning--but, on the contrary, a burning
fever of unrest, that left him peace nor day nor night. "Sudden love is
followed by sudden hate," says the Gaelic proverb; but there had been no
suddenness at all about this passion that had stealthily got hold of
him; and he had ceased even to hope that it might abate or depart
altogether. He had to "dree his weird." And when he read in books about
the joy and delight that accompany the awakening of love--how the world
suddenly becomes fair, and the very skies are bluer than their wont--he
wondered whether he was different from other human beings. The joy and
delight of love? He knew only a sick hunger of the heart and a continual
and brooding despair.

One morning he was going along the cliffs, his only companion being the
old black retriever, when suddenly he saw, far away below him, the
figure of a lady. For a second his heart stood still at the sight of
this stranger; for he knew it was neither the mother nor Janet; and she
was coming along a bit of greensward from which, by dint of much
climbing, she might have reached Castle Dare. But as he watched her he
caught sight of some other figures, farther below on the rocks. And then
he perceived--as he saw her return with a handful of bell-heather--that
this party had come from Iona, or Bunessan, or some such place, to
explore one of the great caves on this coast, while this lady had
wandered away from them in search of some wild flowers. By and by he saw
the small boat, with its spritsail white in the sun, go away toward the
south, and the lonely coast was left as lonely as before.

But ever after that he grew to wonder what Gertrude White, if ever she
could be persuaded to visit his home, would think of this thing and of
that thing--what flowers she would gather--whether she would listen to
Hamish's stories of the fairies--whether she would be interested in her
small countryman, Johnny Wickes, who was now in kilts, with his face and
legs as brown as a berry--whether the favorable heavens would send her
sunlight and blue skies, and the moonlight nights reveal to her the
solemn glory of the sea and the lonely islands. Would she take his hand
to steady herself in passing over the slippery rocks? What would she say
if suddenly she saw above her--by the opening of a cloud--a stag
standing high on a crag near the summit of Ben-an-Sloich? And what wo