"Let us sit down and rest awhile," she said, at a venture.
But at this very instant Big Archie returned.
"Mr. Ross, mem, he has got up, and he is going aweh down the hill," he said, in an eager whisper.
"You are sure he is not coming this way?" she said, quickly.
"No, no, mem—come a bit forrit, and you will see."
So they followed, with rather timorous steps and anxious glances, the big fisherman; and at last they just caught a glimpse of Donald Ross making his way down the hill by the winding pathway leading up to this little plateau. And here was the large white block of marble, with its deep-graven letters of gold shining in the sunlight. Mary regarded this inscription with some curious fancies in her mind.
"I wish I had known her," she murmured, apparently to herself, as she took the white flowers out of the basket and reverently placed them on the stone. It was a simple ceremony—up here on the lofty crest of this solitary island, between the wide, over-arching sky and the far-extending plain of the sea.
Then they went back along these silent and lonely cliffs, and got down to the boat in safety; returning to the mainland, as they hoped, unobserved. Mary Stanley was unusually absorbed and thoughtful during the rest of that day; and only once did she refer to their visit to Heimra.
"It seems strange, Käthchen, does it not," she said, musingly, "that he should go away up there to read? ... Do you think it is perhaps for some sense of companionship? ... That would be strange, wouldn't it, in a young man?..." And Käthchen did not venture to reply: she could not even conjecture what secret influences, what mysterious cogitations, might not have prompted such a question.
But Kate herself grew to wonder whether Donald Ross had become aware of that thoughtful little act of kindness and sympathy; and whether, and in what way, he would make recognition of it. This was what happened. Some two days after their visit to the island Mary chanced to be standing at one of the windows, when she suddenly called to her companion—