I rose from my chair and moved away then, looking—from the smooth deck of the 'Dream' shadowed by her full white sails out to the peaks of the majestic hills whose picturesque beauties are sung in the wild strains of Ossian, and the projecting crags, deep hollows and lofty pinnacles outlining the coast with its numerous waterfalls, lochs and shadowy creeks. A thin and delicate haze of mist hung over the land like a pale violet veil through which the sun shot beams of rose and gold, giving a vaporous unsubstantial effect to the scenery as though it were gliding with us like a cloud pageant on the surface of the calm water. The shores of Loch Scavaig began to be dimly seen in the distance, and presently Captain Derrick approached Mr. Harland, spy-glass in hand.
"The 'Diana' must have gone for a cruise,"—he said, in rather a perturbed way—"As far as I can make out, there's no sign of her where we left her this morning."
Mr. Harland heard this indifferently.
"Perhaps Catherine wished for a sail,"—he answered. "There are plenty on board to manage the vessel. You're not anxious?"
"Oh, not at all, sir, if you are satisfied,"—Derrick answered.
Mr. Harland stretched himself luxuriously in his chair.
"Personally, I don't mind where the 'Diana' has gone to for the moment,"—he said, with a laugh—"I'm particularly comfortable where I am. Santoris!"
"Here!" And Santoris, who had stepped aside to give some order to one of his men, came up at the call.
"What do you say to leaving me on board while you and my little friend go and see your sunset effect on Loch Coruisk by yourselves?"
Santoris heard this suggestion with an amused look.