be here with the _Pioneer_, and I will send the boat out for him.
Oh yes, and you are wanting to see him, Sir Keith?"

"Why, of course!" Macleod said. "If we are going away on a long voyage,
do we not want a good pilot?"

"And we are going, Sir Keith?" the old man said; and there was a look of
proud triumph in the keen face.

"Oh, I do not know yet," Macleod said, impatiently. "But you will tell
Christina that, if we are going away to the South, we may have
lady-visitors come on board, some day or another; and she would be
better than a young lass to look after them, and make them comfortable
on board. And if there is any clothes or ribbons she may want from
Salen, Donald can go over with the pony; and you will not spare any
money, Hamish, for I will give you the money."

"Very well, sir."

"And you will not send the boat out to the _Pioneer_ till I give you a
letter; and you will ask the clerk to be so kind as to post it for me
to-night at Oban; and he must not forget that."

"Very well, sir," said Hamish; and he left the room, with a determined
look about his lips, but with a glad light in his eyes.

This was the second letter that Macleod wrote; and he had to keep
whispering to himself "Caution! caution!" or he would have broken into
some wild appeal to his sweetheart far away.

"DEAR GERTRUDE," he wrote, "I gather from your note that it is
true you are going to be married. I had heard some time ago, so
your letter was no great shock to me; and what I have
suffered--well, that can be of no interest to you now, and it
will do me no good to recall it. As to your message, I would
forgive you freely; but how can I forget? Can you forget? Do you
remember the red rose? But that is all over now, I suppose; and I
should not wonder if I were after all, to be able to obey you,
and to forget very thoroughly--not that alone, but everything
else. For I have been rather ill of late--more through
sleeplessness than any other cause, I think; and they say I must
go for a long sea-voyage; and the mother and Janet both say I
should be more at home in the old _Umpire_, with Hamish and
Christina, and my own people round me, than in a steamer; and so
I may not hear of you again until you are separated from me
forever. But I write now to ask you if you would like your
letters returned, and one or two keepsakes, and the photographs.
I would not like them to fall into other han