"I shall be delighted. Do you know when she arrives?"
"They say about six. I daresay it is not very punctual."
"Oh! yes, she is—when the weather is decent. I will make inquiries, and come and fetch you."
"Thank you.—I suppose I may, uncle?"
"What, my dear?" said the professor, rousing himself again.
"Have my cousin to take care of me when I go to meet Bessie?"
"Yes, certainly. I shall be much obliged to you, Mr Forbes. I am not quite so agile as I was at your age, though my gouty leg is better."
This conversation would not have been worth recording were it not that it led to the walk and the waiting on Monday.—They found, when they reached the region of steamers, that she had not yet been signalled, but her people were expecting the signal every minute. So Alec and Kate walked out along the pier, to pass the time. This pier runs down the side of the river, and a long way into the sea. It had begun to grow dark, and Alec had to take great care of Kate amongst the tramways, coils of rope, and cables that crossed their way. At length they got clear of these, and found themselves upon the pier, built of great rough stones—lonely and desert, tapering away into the dark, its end invisible, but indicated by the red light far in front.
"It is a rough season of the year for a lady to come by sea," said
Alec.
"Bessie is very fond of the sea," answered Kate. "I hope you will like her, Mr Forbes."