n he led the way down the slippery path, and he had a tight hold of
her arm; and if he talked to her in a low voice so that none should
overhear, it is the way of lovers under the silence of the stars. They
reached the pier, and the wet stone steps; and here, despite the stars,
it was so dark that perforce she had to permit him to lift her off the
lowest step and place her in security in what seemed to her a great hole
of some kind or other. She knew, however, that she was in a boat, for
there was a swaying hither and thither even in this sheltered corner.
She saw other figures arrive--black between her and the sky--and she
heard her father's voice above. Then he, too, got into the boat; the two
men forward hauled up the huge lugsail; and presently there was a
rippling line of sparkling white stars on each side of the boat, burning
for a second or two on the surface of the black water.

"I don't know who is responsible for this madness," Mr. White said--and
the voice from inside the great waterproof coat sounded as if it meant
to be jocular--"but really, Gerty, to be on the open Atlantic in the
middle of the night, in an open boat--"

"My dear sir," Macleod said, laughing, "you are as safe as if you were
in bed. But I am responsible in the meantime, for I have the tiller. Oh,
we shall be over in plenty of time to be clear of the banks."

"What did you say?"

"Well," Macleod admitted, "there are some banks, you know, in the Sound
of Iona; and on a dark night they are a little awkward when the tide is
low; but I am not going to frighten you--"

"I hope we shall have nothing much worse than this," said Mr. White,
seriously.

For, indeed, the sea, after the squally morning, was running pretty
high; and occasionally a cloud of spray came rattling over the bows,
causing Macleod's guests to pull their waterproofs still more tightly
round their necks. But what mattered the creaking of the cordage, and
the plunging of the boat, and the rushing of the seas, so long as that
beautiful clear sky shone overhead?

"Gertrude," said he, in a low voice, "do you see the phosphorous-stars
on the waves? I never saw them burn more brightly."

"They are very beautiful," said she. "When do we get to land, Keith?"

"Oh, pretty soon," said he. "You are not anxious to get to land?"

"It is stormier than I expected."

"Oh, this is nothing," said he. "I thought you would enjoy it."

However, that summer night's sail was like to prove a