e south. There is a sharper gleam from one
lambent planet--a thin line of golden-yellow light that comes all the
way across from the black rocks until it breaks in flashes among the
ripples close to the side of the yacht. Silence once more reigns around;
only from time to time one hears the croak of a heron from the dusky
shore.

What can keep this man up so late on deck? There is nothing to look at
but the great bows of the yacht black against the pale gray sea, and the
tall spars and the rigging going away up into the starlit sky, and the
suffused glow from the skylight touching a yellow-gray on the main-boom.
There is no need for the anchor-watch that Hamish was insisting on: the
equinoctials are not likely to begin on such a night as this.

He is looking across the lapping gray water to the jet-black line of
cliff. And there are certain words haunting him. He cannot forget them;
he cannot put them away.

* * * * *

WHEREFORE IS LIGHT GIVEN TO HIM THAT IS IN MISERY, AND LIFE UNTO THE
BITTER IN SOUL? * * * WHICH LONG FOR DEATH, BUT IT COMETH NOT; AND DIG
FOR IT MORE THAN FOR HIDDEN TREASURES. * * * WHICH REJOICE EXCEEDINGLY,
AND ARE GLAD WHEN THEY CAN FIND THE GRAVE.

* * * * *

Then, in the stillness of the night, he heard a breathing. He went
forward, and found that Hamish had secreted himself behind the windlass.
He uttered some exclamation in the Gaelic, and the old man rose and
stood guiltily before him.

"Have I not told you to go below before? and will I have to throw you
down into the forecastle?"

The old man stood irresolute for a moment. Then he said, also in his
native tongue,--

"You should not speak like that to me, Sir Keith: I have known you many
a year."

Macleod caught Hamish's hand.

"I beg your pardon, Hamish. You do not know. It is a sore heart I have
this night."

"Oh, God help us! Do I not know that!" he exclaimed, in a broken voice;
and Macleod, as he turned away, could hear the old man crying bitterly
in the dark. What else could Hamish do now for him who had been to him
as the son of his old age?

"Go below now, Hamish," said Macleod in a gentle voice and the old man
slowly and reluctantly obeyed.

But the night had not drawn to day when Macleod again went forward, and
said, in a strange, excited whisper,--

"Hamish, Hamish, are you awake now?"

Instantly the old man appeared; he had not turned into his berth