“What the teffle,” said Mackenzie, “hef I to want a deer forest for my Sheila? Sheila is no fisherman’s lass. She has plenty for herself, and she will marry just the young man she wants to marry, and no other one; that is what she will do, by Kott!” All this was most hopeful. If Mackenzie had himself been advocating Lavender’s suit, could he have said more? But, notwithstanding all these frank and generous promises, dealing with a future which the old man considered as indefinitely remote, Ingram was still afraid of the announcement he was about to make. “Sheila is fortunately situated,” he said, “in having a father who thinks only of her happiness. But I suppose she has never yet shown a preference for any one?” “Not for any one but yourself,” said her father, with a laugh. And Ingram laughed, too, but in an embarrassed way, and his sallow face grew darker with a blush. Was there not something painful in the unintentional implication that of course Ingram could not be considered a possible lover of Sheila’s, and that the girl herself was so well aware of it that she could openly testify to her regard for him? “And it would be a good thing for Sheila,” continued her father, more gravely, “if there was any young man about the Lewis that she would tek a liking to; for it will be some day I can no more look after her, and it would be bad for her to be left alone all by herself in the island.” “And you don’t think you see before you now some one who might take on him the charge of Sheila’s future?” said Ingram, looking toward Lavender. “The English gentleman?” said Mackenzie, with a smile. “No, that anyway is not possible.” “I fancy it is more than possible,” said Ingram, resolved to go straight at it. “I know for a fact that he would like to marry your daughter, and I think that Sheila, without knowing it herself almost, is well inclined toward him.” The old man started up from his chair: “Eh? what! my Sheila?” “Yes, papa,” said the girl, turning around at once. She caught sight of a strange look on his face, and in an instant was by his side; “Papa, what is the matter with you?” “Nothing, Sheila, nothing,” he said, impatiently. “I am a little tired of the music, that is all. But go on with the music. Go back to the piano, Sheila, and go on with the music, and Mr. Ingram and me, we will go outside for a little while.” Mackenzie walked out of the room, and said aloud in the hall, “Ay, are you coming, Mr. Ingram? It iss a fine night, this night, and the wind is in a very good way for the weather.” And then, as he went out to the front, he hummed aloud, so that Sheila should hear: Who goes there? Stranger, quickly tell! A friend! The word? Good-night! All’s well! All’s well! Good-night! All’s well!