Judging it better to take no notice of this pretty strong expression of distrust and disappointment, Malcolm led him aside, and putting a few sovereigns in his hand, said, “Here, Peter, that will take you home.” “It’s ower muckle--a heap ower muckle. I’ll tak naething frae ye but what’ll pay my w’y.” “And what is such a trifle between friends?” “There _was_ a time, Ma’colm, whan what was mine was yours, an’ what was yours was mine, but that time’s gane.” “I’m sorry to hear that, Peter; but still I owe you as much as that for bare wages.” “There was no word o’ wauges when ye said, Peter, come to Lon’on wi’ me.--Davie there--he maun hae his wauges.” “Weel,” said Malcolm, thinking it better to give way, “I’m no abune bein’ obleeged to ye, Peter. I maun bide my time, I see, for ye winna lippen till me. Eh man! your faith’s sune at the wa’.” “Faith! what faith?” returned Peter, almost fiercely. “We’re tauld to put no faith in man; an’ gien I bena come to that yet freely, I’m nearer till ’t nor ever I was afore.” “Weel, Peter, a’ ’at I can say is, I ken my ain hert, an’ ye dinna ken ’t.” “Daur ye tell me!” cried Peter. “Disna the Scriptur’ itsel’ say the hert o’ man is deceitfu’ an’ despratly wickit: who can know it?” “Peter,” said Malcolm, and he spoke very gently, for he understood that love and not hate was at the root of his friend’s anger and injustice, “gien ye winna lippen to me, there’s naething for ’t but I maun lippen to you. Gang hame to yer wife, an’ gi’e her my compliments, an’ tell her a’ ’at’s past atween you an’ me, as near, word for word, as ye can tell the same; an’ say till her, I pray her to jeedge atween you an’ me--an’ to mak the best o’ me to ye ’at she can, for I wad ill thole to loss yer freenship, Peter.” The same moment came the command for all but passengers to go ashore. The men grasped each other’s hand, looked each other in the eyes with something of mutual reproach, and parted--Blue Peter down the river to Scaurnose and Annie, Malcolm to the yacht lying still in the Upper Pool. He saw it taken properly in charge, and arranged for having it towed up the river and anchored in the Chelsea Reach. When Blue Peter found himself once more safe out at sea, with twelve hundred yards of canvas spread above him in one mighty wing betwixt boom and gaff; and the wind blowing half a gale, the weather inside him began to change a little. He began to see that he had not been behaving altogether as a friend ought. It was not that he saw reason for being better satisfied with Malcolm or his conduct, but reason for being worse satisfied with himself; and the consequence was that he grew still angrier with Malcolm, and the wrong he had done him seemed more and more an unpardonable one.