"The evenings we used to spend in this very saloon," says he—looking with a strange interest on those commonplace objects, the draughts and dominoes, the candlesticks and cigar-boxes, the cards and books—"away up there in the north. It seems years since we were at Dunvegan, doesn't it, and lying off Vaternish Point? There never was as snug a cabin as this in any yacht. It is like returning to an old home to get into it."
"I am very glad to hear you say so," says his hostess, regarding him with a great kindliness. "We will try to make you forget that you have ever been away. Although," she added frankly, "I must tell you you have been turned out of your state-room—for a time. I know you won't mind having a berth made up for you on one of those couches."
"Of course not," he said; "if I am not in your way at all. But——"
And his face asked the question.
"Oh! it is a nephew of Denny-mains who has come on board—a Mr. Smith, a very nice young fellow; I am sure you will like him."
There was nothing said in reply to this.
Then the new-comer inquired, rather timidly, "You are all well, I hope?"
"Oh, yes!"
"And—and Miss Avon, too?" said he.
"Oh, yes! But Mary has suffered a great misfortune since you left."