"I mean to do so, when I get the chance," said he, simply. "I merely wished to tell you that, if her answer is ’No,’ it will be better for me to leave you. Already I fancy my being on board the yacht is a trouble to her. I will not be a trouble to her. I can go. If it is a misfortune, there is no one to blame." "But if she says ’_Yes!_’" cried his friend; and there was a wonderful joy in her eyes, and in her excess of sympathy she caught his hand for a moment. "Oh, Angus, if Mary were to promise to be your wife! What a trip we should have then—we should take the _White Dove_ to Stornoway!" That was her ultimate notion of human happiness—sailing the _White Dove_ up to Stornoway! "I don’t think there is much hope," said he, rather absently, "from her manner of late. But anything is better than suspense. If it is a misfortune, as I say, there is no one to blame. I had not the least notion that she knew Mr. Howard Smith in London." "Nor did she." He stared rather. "They may have met at our house; but certainly not more than once. You see, living in a country house, we have to have our friends down in a _staccato_ fashion, and always by arrangement of a few at a time. There is no general dropping in to afternoon tea." "He never met her in London?" he repeated. "I should think not." "His uncle, then: did she never see him before?" "Certainly not." "Then what does he mean by treating her as a sort of familiar friend who was likely to turn up any time at Denny-mains?" His companion coloured somewhat; for she had no right to betray confidences. "The Laird is very fond of Mary," she said, evasively. "It is quite beautiful to see those two together." He sate for a little time in silence; and then begged to be excused—he would go on deck to smoke. But when, some little time thereafter, we returned from our brief fishing, the dark figure walking up and down the deck was not smoking at all. He paused as the gig was hauled fast to the gangway. "What luck?" "About two dozen." "All lithe?" "About half-a-dozen mackerel." And then he assisted Mary Avon to ascend the small wooden steps. She said "Thank you!" as she withdrew her hand from his; but the words were uttered in a low voice; and she instantly crossed to the companion and went below. He stayed on deck, and helped to swing the gig up to the davits. Now something had got into the head of our Admiral-in-chief that night. She was very merry; and very affectionate towards Mary. She made light of her foolish wish to go away to the south. She pointed out that this continuous fine weather was only hoarding up electricity for the equinoctials; and then we should have a spin! "We are not going to let you go, Mary; that is the long and the short of it. And we are going to keep hold of Angus, too. He is not going away yet—no, no. We have something for him to do. We shall not rest satisfied until we see him sail the _White Dove_ into Stornoway harbour!"