But just when she was about making up her mind to do so, the figure moved, and came down towards the beach. Oona's heart gave a jump; several well-authenticated stories which she had heard from her childhood came into her mind with a rush. She took the end of the rope softly in her hand so as to be able to detach it in a moment. To row back to the isle was easy enough. "Is it you, Miss Forrester?" a voice said. Oona let go the rope, and her heart beat more calmly. "I might with more reason cry out, Is it you, Lord Erradeen? for if you are at the old castle you are a long way from home, and I am quite near." "I am at Auchnasheen," he said. A great change had come over his tone; it was very grave; no longer the airy voice of youth which had jested and laughed on the Isle. He came down and stood with his hand on the bow of the boat. He looked very pale, very serious, but that might be only the blackness of the shadows and the whiteness of the light. "Did you ever see so spiritual a night?" said Oona. "There might be anything abroad; not fairies, who belong to summer, but serious things." "Do you believe then in--ghosts?" he said. "Ghosts is an injurious phrase. Why should we call the poor people so who are only--dead?" said Oona. "But that is a false way of speaking too, isn't it? for it is not because they are dead, but living, that they come back." "I am no judge," he said, with a little shiver. "I never have thought on the subject. I suppose superstition lingers longer up among the mountains." "Superstition!" said Oona, with a laugh. "What ugly words you use!" Once more the laugh seemed to ripple about, and break the solemnity of the night. But young Lord Erradeen was as solemn as the night, and his countenance was not touched even by a responsive smile. His gravity produced upon the girl's mind that feeling of visionary panic and distrust which had not been roused by the external circumstances. She felt herself grow solemn too, but struggled against it. "Hamish has gone up with some mysterious communication to the game-keeper," she said; "and in these long nights one is glad of a little change. I came out with him to keep myself from going to sleep." Which was not perhaps exactly true: but there had arisen a little embarrassment in her mind, and she wanted something to say. "And I came out--" he said; then paused. "The night is not so ghostly as the day," he added, hurriedly; "nor dead people so alarming as the living." "You mean that you disapprove of our superstitions, as you call them," said Oona. "Most people laugh and believe a little; but I know some are angry and think it wrong." "I----angry! That was not what I meant. I meant----It is a strange question which is living and which is----To be sure, you are right, Miss Forrester. What is dead cannot come in contact with us, only what is living. It is a mystery altogether." "You are not a sceptic then?" said Oona. "I am glad of that."