"Oh, yes, certainly," said Käthchen, with eagerness. "That is certainly what we ought to do." "Oh, very well, then," said Mary, turning to the steersman (but there was a flush of self-conscious shame on her cheeks), "you need not take us to the house—we will merely have a look at the island—and some other day we will come out, when we have told Mr. Ross beforehand." "Very well, mem," said Big Archie, holding on the same course, which was taking them by the south side of the island. It was an angry-looking coast—steep and sheer—a long, low, heavy surge breaking monotonously along the black rocks. But when they got round the westward-trending headland, they gradually came in sight of the sheltered waters of the little bay, and of the sweep of silver beach, and the solitary cottage perched on its small plateau. And of course Käthchen’s eyes were full of intensest interest, with something, too, of apprehension; for this (according to Mr. Purdie) was the pirate’s den; this was the home of the outlaw whose deeds by night and day, by sea and shore, had gained him so dark a renown. But Mary’s attention had been attracted elsewhither. She was regarding a white marble slab, placed high on the top of the cliff, facing the western seas. "Look, Käthchen," she said, in rather a low voice. And then she turned to the silent little bay before her. "Poor woman!" she said. "It was a lonely place to live all those years." Presently Mary bethought her of the errand that had brought her so far; and she repented of her irresolution. "Can you take us into the bay, Mr. MacNicol?" said she, without staying to consult Käthchen. "Aw, yes, mem, zurely." "For it is a long way to have come—and—and I am anxious to see Mr. Ross." "Aw, very well, mem," said Archie, at once altering his course. And then she said, looking all round the bay: "But where is the yacht?" "Is it Mr. Ross’s yat, mem? It wass lying in Camus Bheag when I wass coming aweh last evening." "And was Mr. Ross on board?" Käthchen asked, with a quick sense of relief. "Indeed I am not zure of that," said Archie. "For mebbe he wass sending the men over to the mainland, and himself staying on the island." "In any case, Käthchen, that need not matter to you," Mary interposed. "You can remain where you are, and I will go up to the house by myself. Why should you bother about my business affairs?" This was a view of the case that was not likely to commend itself to Kate Glendinning, who could nerve herself on occasion. When the lobster-boat had come to anchor, and they had gone ashore in the dinghy, she proceeded to walk up to the house along with her friend just as if nothing unusual was happening to her. She kept watch—furtively; but her outward air was one of perfect self-possession. As for Mary, she was too deeply engaged in thinking how her complaints and demands were to be framed to heed anything else at this moment.