"Quite time," echoed Paul, coolly, from his place by Alice Woodward; "that is to say, if we are to be back to tea. It is a longer pull than it looks. Now, good people! who is for the burying-ground? You are coming, of course, Miss Woodward; I want you to see all the beauties of Gleneira, and the view is splendid." The Reverend James, who had made up his mind that the descent, when Marjory should have lost her natural escort, would be the very time for his purpose, stood up manfully, and Major Bertie, under orders for the time being to the athletic daughter of a neighbouring laird, followed suit; but the rest, for the most part, declined what they stigmatised as a gruesome invitation. The pull was not only long but stiff, especially after lunch, and the view from below, enhanced by idleness and a quiet cigar, good enough for them. So it was a small single file which, led by Paul, and brought up by John Macpherson with the whiskey flask in case of accidents, toiled up through the fern brakes, till half-way up the hill they struck the path, and paused for breath beside a spring roughly set in masonry. Beside it lay a pile of broken broomsticks, one of which Alice Woodward took up, intending to use it as a staff. "It will be the staves they are using to carry the coffins," remarked old John, cheerfully, as he wiped his forehead with his coat sleeve; "it is breaking them they are when they come down, at the wishing well; and the lassies will come with them to wish for a jo---- Ay! ay! it will be what they were using for old Peggy that the leddy will be choosing, for it's new whatever." Alice dropped the stick with a little shiver of disgust, and Paul moved on impatiently, while John, in reply to a query from the Major, went on from behind in garrulous tones, "Ou, ay! it is a job, whatever, but it's most the auld bodies like Peggy that's wantin' to come to the auld place, and they're fine and light; all but the old _bodach_, Angus MacKinnon, and by 'sunder he will be a job when his turn comes, for he's as big as a stirk. Ay! ay! as big as a stirk, whatever." "There! is not that worth the climb?" cried Paul, with a ring of real pleasure in his voice which Marjory remembered so well on many a similar occasion, as they reached the twin holly trees--sacred to an older cult than that which had prompted the selection of a burial site whence Iona might sometimes be seen--and sank down upon the short thyme-set turf to admire the view. "We are in luck!" cried Marjory, breathlessly. "Look! yonder is Iona." Out on the verge, between the golden sea and the golden sky, lay a faint purple cloud no bigger than a man's hand. "But why Iona?" asked Alice Woodward. "I mean why did they want to be buried in sight of it?" "As a perpetual witness to their faith when they could no longer profess it, I suppose," said Tom Kennedy. "I like the idea."