And here she seems to force this embarrassment away from her; and she says to him, with quite a pleasant air—
"I am so glad to hear that the White Dove will sail so much better now. It must be so much more pleasant for you, when you understand all about it."
And then she goes into the house to put the flowers on the table. He, left alone, goes over to the iron seat beneath the ash tree; and takes up the book she has been reading, and bends his eyes on the page. It is not the book he is thinking about.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE LAIRD'S PLANS.
Who is first up to thrust aside those delusive yellow blinds that suggest sunshine whether the morning be fair or foul? But the first glance through the panes removes all apprehensions: the ruffled bay, the fluttering ensign, the shining white wings of the White Dove are all a summons to the slumbering house. And the mistress of Castle Osprey, as soon as she is dressed, is up stairs and down stairs like a furred flash of lightning. Her cry and potent command—a reminiscence of certain transatlantic experiences—is, "All aboard for Dan'ls!" She will not have so fine a sailing morning wasted, especially when Dr. Angus Sutherland is with us.
Strangely enough, when at last we stand on the white decks, and look round on the shining brass and varnished wood, and help to stow away the various articles needed for our cruise, he is the least excited of all those chattering people. There is a certain conscious elation on starting on a voyage, especially on a beautiful morning; but there also may be some vague and dim apprehension. The beginning is here; but the end? Angus walked about with Captain John, and was shown all that had been done to the yacht, and listened in silence.
But the rest were noisy enough, calling for this and that, handing things down the companion, and generally getting in the way of the steward.
"Well, Fred," says our facetious Laird, "have ye hung up all the game that Mr. Smith brought back from the moor yesterday?" and Master Fred was so much tickled by this profound joke that he had to go down into the forecastle to hide his grinning delight, and went covertly smiling about his work for the next quarter of an hour.
Then the hubbub gradually ceased; for the boats had been swung to the davits, and the White Dove was gently slipping away from her moorings. A fine northerly breeze; a ruffled blue sea; and the south all shining before her! How should we care whither the beautiful bird bore us? Perhaps before the night fell we should be listening for the singing of the mermaid of Colonsay.