A minute passed, and Mr. Harland's face expressed a sudden surprise and relief.
"Well! What now?" asked Santoris—"How is the pain?"
"Gone!" he answered—"I can hardly believe it—but I'm bound to admit it!"
"That's right! And it will not come back—not to-day, at any rate, nor to-morrow. Shall we go on deck now?"
We assented. As we left the saloon he said:
"You must see the glow of the sunset over Loch Coruisk. It's always a fine sight and it promises to be specially fine this evening,—there are so many picturesque clouds floating about. We are turning back to Loch Scavaig,—and when we get there we can land and do the rest of the excursion on foot. It's not much of a climb; will you feel equal to it?"
This question he put to me personally.
I smiled.
"Of course! I feel equal to anything! Besides, I've been very lazy on board the 'Diana,' taking no real exercise. A walk will do me good."
Mr. Harland seated himself in one of the long reclining chairs which were placed temptingly under an awning on deck. His eyes were clearer and his face more composed than I had ever seen it.