A faint moon was shimmering along the surface of Loch Dour in icy little ripples when they pulled out from the shadows of the hillside. By the accident of position, Gray, who was steering, sat beside Ailsa in the stern, while the consul and Mr. Callender were further forward, although within hearing. The faces of the young people were turned towards each other, yet in the cold moonlight the consul fancied they looked as impassive and unemotional as statues. The few distant, far-spaced lights that trembled on the fading shore, the lonely glitter of the water, the blackness of the pine-clad ravines seemed to be a part of this repression, until the vast melancholy of the lake appeared to meet and overflow them like an advancing tide. Added to this, there came from time to time the faint sound and smell of the distant, desolate sea. The consul, struggling manfully to keep up a spasmodic discussion on Scotch diminutives in names, found himself mechanically saying: “And James you call Jamie?” “Ay; but ye would say, to be pure Scotch, 'Hamish,'” said Mr. Callender precisely. The girl, however, had not spoken; but Gray turned to her with something of his old gayety. “And I suppose you would call me 'Robbie'?” “Ah, no!” “What then?” “Robin.” Her voice was low yet distinct, but she had thrown into the two syllables such infinite tenderness, that the consul was for an instant struck with an embarrassment akin to that he had felt in the cabin of the Skyscraper, and half expected the father to utter a shocked protest. And to save what he thought would be an appalling silence, he said with a quiet laugh:-- “That's the fellow who 'made the assembly shine' in the song, isn't it?” “That was Robin Adair,” said Gray quietly; “unfortunately I would only be 'Robin Gray,' and that's quite another song.” “AULD Robin Gray, sir, deestinctly 'auld' in the song,” interrupted Mr. Callender with stern precision; “and I'm thinking he was not so very unfortunate either.” The discussion of Scotch diminutives halting here, the boat sped on silently to the yacht. But although Robert Gray, as host, recovered some of his usual lightheartedness, the consul failed to discover anything in his manner to indicate the lover, nor did Miss Ailsa after her single lapse of tender accent exhibit the least consciousness. It was true that their occasional frank allusions to previous conversations seemed to show that their opportunities had not been restricted, but nothing more. He began again to think he was mistaken. As he wished to return early, and yet not hasten the Callenders, he prevailed upon Gray to send him to the pier-head first, and not disturb the party. As he stepped into the boat, something in the appearance of the coxswain awoke an old association in his mind. The man at first seemed to avoid his scrutiny, but when they were well away from the yacht, he said hesitatingly:--