It had been arranged that Ingram should go up to Lewis to the marriage, and after the ceremony in Stornoway return to Borva with Mr. Mackenzie, to remain with him a few days.  But at the last moment Ingram was summoned down to Devonshire on account of the serious illness of some near relative, and accordingly Frank Lavender started by himself to bring back with him his Highland bride.  His stay in Borva was short enough on this occasion.  At the end of it there came a certain wet and boisterous day, the occurrences in which he afterward remembered as if they had taken place in a dream.  There were many faces about, a confusion of tongues, a good deal of dram-drinking, a skirl of pipes, and a hurry through the rain; but all these things gave place to the occasional glance that he got from a pair of timid and trusting and beautiful eyes.  Yet Sheila was not Sheila in that dress of white, with her face a trifle pale.  She was more his own Sheila when she had donned her rough garments of blue, and when she stood on the wet deck of the vessel, with a great gray shawl around her, talking to her father with a brave effort at cheerfulness, although her lip would occasionally quiver as one or other, of her friends from Borva—­many of them barefooted children—­came up to bid her good-bye.  Her father talked rapidly, with a grand affectation of indifference.  He swore at the weather.  He bade her see that Bras was properly fed, and if the sea broke over his box in the night, he was to be rubbed dry, and let out in the morning for a run up and down the deck.  She was not to forget the parcel directed to an innkeeper at Oban.  They would find Oban a very nice place at which to break the journey to London, but as for Greenock, Mackenzie could find no words with which to describe Greenock.

And then, in the midst of all this, Sheila suddenly said, “Papa, when does the steamer leave?”

“In a few minutes.  They have got nearly all the cargo on board.”

“Will you do me a great favor, papa?”

“Ay, but what is it, Sheila?”

“I want you not to stay here till the boat sails, and then you will have all the people on the quay vexing you when you are going away.  I want you to bid good-bye to us now, and drive away round to the point, and we shall see you the last of all when the steamer has got out of the harbor.”

“Ferry well, Sheila, I will do that,” he said, knowing well why the girl wished it.

So father and daughter bade good-bye to each other; and Mackenzie went on shore with his face down, and said not a word to any of his friends on the quay, but got into the wagonette, and, lashing the horses, drove rapidly away.  As he had shaken hands with Lavender, Lavender had said to him, “Well, we shall soon be back in Borva again to see you;” and the old man had merely tightened the grip of his hand as he left.