Then Sheila came in and told them that supper was laid in the adjoining room. At that modest meal a great good humor prevailed. Sometimes, it is true, it occurred to Ingram that Sheila occasionally cast an anxious glance to her father, as if she were trying to discover whether he was really satisfied, or whether he were not merely pretending satisfaction to please her; but for the rest the party was a most friendly and merry one. Lavender, naturally enough, was in the highest of spirits, and nothing could exceed the light-hearted endeavors he made to amuse, and interest, and cheer his companions. Sheila, indeed, sat up later than usual, even although pipes were lit again, and the slate-gray silk likely to bear witness to the fact in the morning. How comfortable and homely was this sort of life in the remote stone building overlooking the sea! He began to think that he could live always in Borva if only Sheila were with him as his companion. Was it an actual fact, then, he asked himself next morning, that he stood confessed to the small world of Borva as Sheila’s accepted lover? Not a word on the subject had passed between Mackenzie and himself, and yet he found himself assuming the position of a younger relative, and rather expecting advice from the old man. He began to take a great interest too, in the local administration of the island. He examined the window-fastenings of Mackenzie’s house, and saw that they would be useful in the winter, and expressed to Sheila’s father his confidential opinion that the girl should not be allowed to go out in the Maighdean-mhara without Duncan. “She will know as much about boats as Duncan himself,” said her father, with a smile. “But Sheila will not go out when the rough weather begins.” “Of course, you keep her indoors then,” said the younger man, already assuming some little charge over Sheila’s comfort. The father laughed aloud at this simplicity on the part of the Englishman: “If we wass to keep indoors in the bad weather, it would be all the winter we would be indoors! There iss no day at all Sheila will not be out some time or other; and she is never so well as in the hard weather, when she will be out always in the snow and the frost, and hef plenty of exercise and amusement.” “She is not often ailing, I suppose?” said Lavender. “She is as strong as a young pony, that’s what Sheila is,” said her father, proudly. “And there’s no one in the island will run so fast, or walk so long without tiring, or carry things from the shore as she will--not one.” But here he suddenly checked himself. “That is,” he said, with some little expression of annoyance, “I wass saying Sheila could do that if it wass any use; but she will not do such things, like a fisherman’s lass that hass to keep in the work.” “Oh, of course not,” said Lavender, hastily. “But still, you know, it is pleasant to know she is so strong and well.”