Was it not all a dream, that he should be sitting by the side of this sea-princess, who was attended only by her deerhound and the tall keeper?  And if a dream, why should it not go on for ever?  To live for ever in this magic land—­to have the princess herself carry him in this little boat into the quiet bays of the islands, or out at night, in moonlight, on the open sea—­to forget for ever the godless South and its social phantasmagoria, and live in this beautiful and distant solitude, with the solemn secrets of the hills and the moving deep for ever present to the imagination, might not that be a nobler life?  And some day or other he would take this island-princess up to London, and he would bid the women that he knew—­the scheming mothers and the doll-like daughters—­stand aside from before this perfect work of God.  She would carry with her the mystery of the sea in the deeps of her eyes, and the music of the far hills would be heard in her voice, and all the sweetness and purity and brightness of the clear summer skies would be mirrored in her innocent soul.  She would appear in London as some wild-plumaged bird hailing from distant climes, and before she had lived there long enough to grow sad, and have the weight of the city clouding the brightness of her eyes, she would be spirited away again into this strange sea-kingdom, where there seemed to be perpetual sunshine and the light music of the waves.

Poor Sheila!  She little knew what was expected of her, or the sort of drama into which she was being thrown as a central figure.  She little knew that she, a simple Highland girl, was being transformed into a wonderful creature of romance, who was to put to shame the gentle dames and maidens of London society, and do many other extraordinary things.  But what would have appeared the most extraordinary of all these speculations, if she had only known of them, was the assumption that she would marry Frank Lavender. That the young man had quite naturally taken for granted, but perhaps only as a basis for his imaginative scenes.  In order to do these fine things she would have to be married to somebody, and why not to himself?  Think of the pride he would have in leading this beautiful girl, with her quaint manners and fashion of speech, into a London drawing-room!  Would not every one wish to know her?  Would not every one listen to her singing of those Gaelic songs? for of course she must sing well.  Would not all his artist friends be anxious to paint her? and she would go to the Academy to convince the loungers there how utterly the canvas had failed to catch the light and dignity and sweetness of her face.

When Sheila spoke he started.

“Did you not see it?”

“What?”

“The seal:  it rose for a moment just over there,” said the girl, with a great interest visible in her eyes.

The beautiful dreams he had been dreaming were considerably shattered by this interruption.  How could a fairy princess be so interested in some common animal showing its head out of the sea?  It also occurred to him, just at this moment, that if Sheila and Mairi went out in this boat by themselves, they must be in the habit of hoisting up the mainsail; and was such rude and coarse work befitting the character of a princess?