"You will take some down to the yacht, too?" he says. "Everything is quite ready now for the start to-morrow." "Oh, yes!" she says. "And I think I have enough now for the table. I must go in." "Miss Avon," he says; and she stops—with her eyes downcast. "I wanted to say a word to you. You have once or twice spoken about going away. I wanted to ask you—you won’t think it is any rudeness. But if the reason was—if it was the presence of any one that was distasteful to you——" "Oh, I hope no one will think that!" she answers, quickly; and for one second the soft, black, pathetic eyes meet his. "I am very happy to be amongst such good friends—too happy, I think—I, I must think of other things——" And here she seems to force this embarrassment away from her; and she says to him, with quite a pleasant air— "I am so glad to hear that the _White Dove_ will sail so much better now. It must be so much more pleasant for you, when you understand all about it." And then she goes into the house to put the flowers on the table. He, left alone, goes over to the iron seat beneath the ash tree; and takes up the book she has been reading, and bends his eyes on the page. It is not the book he is thinking about. *CHAPTER XIII.* *THE LAIRD’S PLANS.* Who is first up to thrust aside those delusive yellow blinds that suggest sunshine whether the morning be fair or foul? But the first glance through the panes removes all apprehensions: the ruffled bay, the fluttering ensign, the shining white wings of the _White Dove_ are all a summons to the slumbering house. And the mistress of Castle Osprey, as soon as she is dressed, is up stairs and down stairs like a furred flash of lightning. Her cry and potent command—a reminiscence of certain transatlantic experiences—is, "_All aboard for Dan’ls!_" She will not have so fine a sailing morning wasted, especially when Dr. Angus Sutherland is with us. Strangely enough, when at last we stand on the white decks, and look round on the shining brass and varnished wood, and help to stow away the various articles needed for our cruise, he is the least excited of all those chattering people. There is a certain conscious elation on starting on a voyage, especially on a beautiful morning; but there also may be some vague and dim apprehension. The beginning is here; but the end? Angus walked about with Captain John, and was shown all that had been done to the yacht, and listened in silence. But the rest were noisy enough, calling for this and that, handing things down the companion, and generally getting in the way of the steward. "Well, Fred," says our facetious Laird, "have ye hung up all the game that Mr. Smith brought back from the moor yesterday?" and Master Fred was so much tickled by this profound joke that he had to go down into the forecastle to hide his grinning delight, and went covertly smiling about his work for the next quarter of an hour.