nd the mysterious joy on the face of the angel--and to listen at
the same moment to the wild roar of the Atlantic around the rocks of
Mull. If Macleod had been alone with the talker, he might have gone to
sleep. It was like the tolling of a bell. "The artist passes away, but
he leaves his soul behind.... We can judge by his work of the joy he
must have experienced in creation, of the splendid dreams that have
visited him, of the triumph of completion.... Life without an object--a
pursuit demanding the sacrifice of our constant care--what is it? The
existence of a pig is nobler--a pig is of some use.... We are
independent of weather in a great city; we do not need to care for the
seasons; you take a hansom and drive to the National Gallery, and there
all at once you find yourself in the soft Italian climate, with the most
beautiful women and great heroes of chivalry all around you, and with
those quaint and loving presentations of sacred stories that tell of a
time when art was proud to be the meek handmaid of religion. Oh, my dear
Lady Macleod, there is a 'Holy Family' of Giotto's--"

So it went on; and Macleod grew sick at heart to think of the impression
that this funereal day must have had on the mind of his fair stranger.
But as they sat at dinner that evening, Hamish came in and said a few
words to his master. Instantly Macleod's face lighted up, and quite a
new animation came into his manner.

"Do you know what Hamish says?" he cried--"that the night is quite fine?
And Hamish has heard our talking of seeing the cathedral at Iona by
moonlight, and he says the moon will be up by ten. And what do you say
to running over now? You know we cannot take you in the yacht, for there
is no good anchorage at Iona; but we can take you in a very good and
safe boat; and it will be an adventure to go out in the night-time."

It was an adventure that neither Mr. White nor his daughter seemed too
eager to undertake; but the urgent vehemence of the young man--who had
discovered that it was a fine and clear starlit night--soon overcame
their doubts and there was a general hurry of preparation. The
desolation of the day, he eagerly thought, would be forgotten in the
romance of this night excursion. And surely she would be charmed by the
beauty of the starlit sky, and the loneliness of the voyage, and their
wandering over the ruins in the solemn moonlight?

Thick boots and waterproofs--these were his peremptory instructions. And
the