"You will think I am a sad blunderer to bring you tramping through the night." "I will be thinking you are the good friend." Too soon the grey dawn broke, for at the first glimmer my love disengaged herself from my arm. I looked shyly at her, and the glory of her young beauty filled me. Into her cheeks the raw morning wind had whipped the red, had flushed her like a radiant Diana. The fresh breeze had outlined her figure clear as she struggled against it, and the billowing sail was not more graceful than her harmonious lines. Out of the sea the sun rose a great ball of flaming fire. "A good omen for the success of our journey," I cried. "Look! "'Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.' "The good God grant it prove so, Kenneth, for Malcolm and for all our friends." After all youth has its day and will not be denied. We were on an anxious undertaking of more than doubtful outcome, but save when we remembered to be sober we trod the primrose path. We presently came to a small village where we had breakfast at the inn. For long we had eaten nothing but the musty fare of the brig, and I shall never forget with what merry daffing we enjoyed the crisp oaten cake, the buttered scones, the marmalade, and the ham and eggs. After we had eaten Aileen went to her room to snatch some hours sleep while I made arrangements for a cart to convey us on our way. A wimpling burn ran past the end of the inn garden, and here on a rustic bench I found my comrade when I sought her some hours later. The sun was shining on her russet-hair. Her chin was in her hands, her eyes on the gurgling brook. The memories of the night must still have been thrilling her, for she was singing softly that most exquisite of love songs "Annie Laurie." "'Maxwelton's braes are bonnie, Where early fa's the dew, Where me and Annie Laurie Made up the promise true.'" Her voice trembled a little, and I took up the song. "'Made up the promise true, And ne'er forget will I; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doun and dee.'" At my first words she gave a little start, her lips parted, her head came up prettily to attention, and though I could not see them I was ready to vow that she listened with shining eyes. Softly her breath came and went. I trod nearer as I sang. "'Her brow is like the snaw-drift, Her throat is like the swan, She's jimp about the middle, Her waist ye weel micht span.' "Oh, Aileen, if I might--if I only had the right! Won't you give it me, dear heart?" In the long silence my pulse stopped, then throbbed like an aching tooth. "I'm waiting, Aileen. It is to be yes or no?"