Here, too, are the islands again as we get out into the open—Gometra, with its one white house at the point; and Inch Kenneth, where the seals show their shining black heads among the shallows; and Erisgeir and Colonsay, where the skarts alight to dry their wings on the rocks; and Staffa, and Lunga, and the Dutchman, lying peaceful enough now on the calm blue seas. We have time to look at them, for the wind is slight, and the broad-beamed _White Dove_ is not a quick sailer in a light breeze. The best part of the forenoon is over before we find ourselves opposite to the gleaming white sands of the northern bays of Iona. "But surely both of us together will be able to make him stay longer than ten days," says the elder of the two women to the younger—and you may be sure she was not speaking of East Wind. Mary Avon looks up with a start; then looks down again—perhaps with the least touch of colour in her face—as she says hurriedly— "Oh, I think you will. He is your friend. As for me—you see—I—I scarcely know him." "Oh, Mary!" says the other reproachfully. "You have been meeting him constantly all these two months; you must know him better than any of us. I am sure I wish he was on board now—he could tell us all about the geology of the islands, and what not. It will be delightful to have somebody on board who knows something." Such is the gratitude of women!—and the Laird had just been describing to her some further points of the famous heresy case. "And then he knows Gaelic!" says the elder woman. "He will tell us what all the names of the islands mean." "Oh, yes," says the younger one, "he understands Gaelic very well, though he cannot speak much of it." "And I think he is very fond of boats," remarks our hostess. "Oh, exceedingly—exceedingly!" says the other, who, if she does not know Angus Sutherland, seems to have picked up some information about him somehow. "You cannot imagine how he has been looking forward to sailing with you; he has scarcely had any holiday for years." "Then he must stay longer than ten days," says the elder woman; adding with a smile, "you know, Mary, it is not the number of his patients that will hurry him back to London." "Oh, but I assure you," says Miss Avon seriously, "that he is not at all anxious to have many patients—as yet! Oh, no!—I never knew any one who was so indifferent about money. I know he would live on bread and water—if that were necessary—to go on with his researches. He told me himself that all the time he was at Leipsic his expenses were never more than 1*l.* a week." She seemed to know a good deal about the circumstances of this young F.R.S. "Look at what he has done with those anæsthetics," continues Miss Avon. "Isn’t it better to find out something that does good to the whole world than give yourself up to making money by wheedling a lot of old women?" This estimate of the physician’s art was not flattering.