"Mayhap the Clansman will not be coming this way at all to-night, Lora. She may be going by Kyle-na-Sith."
A flush came into Lora's face. Her eyes darkened, as a tarn under rain.
"And for why should she not be sailing this way to-night, when Alastair is coming home, and is to be here before sundown?"
"He may have been unable to leave. If he does not come to-day, he will doubtless be here to-morrow."
"To-morrow! O Mary, Mary, have you ever loved, that you can speak like that? Think what Alastair went away for! Surely you do not know how the pain is at my heart?"
"Truly, mùirnean. But it is not well to be sure of that which may easily happen otherwise."
"To-morrow, indeed! Why, Mary, if the Clansman does not come by this evening, and has gone as you say by Kyle-na-Sith, she will not be here again till the day after to-morrow!"
"Alastair could come by the other way, by the Inverary boat, and thence by the herring-steamer from Dunmore, after he had reached it from Uan Point or by way of Craig-Sionnach."
"That may be, of course; but I think not. I cannot believe the boat will not be here to-night."
Both stood motionless, with their hands shading their eyes, and looking across the wide Sound, where the tide bubbled and foamed against the slight easterly wind-drift. The late sunlight fell full upon them, working its miracle of gold here and there, and making the skin like a flower. The outline of each figure stood out darkly clear as against a screen of amber.