ned her. But she had a wonderful self command.

"Is that the message I was to hear?" she said, coldly.

"Why, sweetheart, are you not glad? Is not that the only gladness left
for you and for me, that we should drink one glass together, and clasp
hands, and say good-by? What else is there left? What else could come to
you and to me? And it may not be this night, or to-morrow night; but one
night I think it will come; and then, sweetheart, we will have one more
glass together, before the end."

He went on deck. He called Hamish.

"Hamish," said he, in a grave, matter of fact way, "I don't like the
look of this evening. Did you say the sheiling was still on the island?"

"Oh yes, Sir Keith," said Hamish, with great joy; for he thought his
advice was going to be taken, after all.

"Well, now, you know the gales, when they begin, sometimes last for two,
or three, or four days; and I will ask you to see that Christina takes a
good store of things to the sheiling before the darkness comes on. Take
plenty of things now, Hamish, and put them in the sheiling, for I am
afraid this is going to be a wild night."

Now, indeed, all the red light had gone away; and as the sun went down
there was nothing but a spectral whiteness over the sea and the sky; and
the atmosphere was so close and sultry that it seemed to suffocate one.
Moreover, there was a dead calm; if they had wanted to get away from
this exposed place, how could they? They could not get into the gig and
pull this great yacht over to Loch Tua.

It was with a light heart that Hamish set about this thing; and
Christina forthwith filled a hamper with tinned meats, and bread, and
whiskey, and what not. And fuel was taken ashore, too; and candles, and
a store of matches. If the gales were coming on, as appeared likely from
this ominous-looking evening, who could tell how many days and nights
the young master--and the English lady, too, if he desired her
company--might not have to stay ashore, while the men took the chance of
the sea with this yacht, or perhaps seized the occasion of some lull to
make for some place of shelter? There was Loch Tua, and there was the
bay at Bunessan, and there was the little channel called Polterriv,
behind the rocks opposite Iona. Any shelter at all was better than this
exposed place, with the treacherous anchorage.

Hamish and Duncan Cameron returned to the yacht.

"Will you go ashore now, Sir Keith?" the old man said.

"Oh no; I am n