on the dreaded night.  He is as nervous now at a morning rehearsal as if it were his debut at Drury Lane; and he never even takes my hand without an air of apology, as if he were saying, ’Really, Miss White, you must pardon me; I am compelled by my part to take your hand; otherwise I would die rather than be guilty of such a liberty.’  And when he addresses me in the balcony-scene, he will not look at me; he makes his protestations of love to the flies; and when I make my fine speeches to him, he blushes if his eyes should by chance meet mine, just as if he had been guilty of some awful indiscretion.  I know, dear Keith, you don’t like to see me act, but you might come up for this occasion only.  Friar Lawrence is the funniest thing I have seen for ages.  The nurse, however, Lady Bletherin, is not at all bad.  I hear there is to be a grand supper afterwards somewhere, and I have no doubt I shall be presented to a number of ladies who will speak for the first time to an actress and be possessed with a wild fear; only, if they have daughters, I suppose they will keep the fluttering-hearted young things out of the way, lest I should suddenly break out into blue flame, and then disappear through the floor.  I am quite convinced that Captain Brierley considers me a bold person because I look at him when I have to say,

                     “’O gentle Romeo,
    If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully!’”

Macleod crushed this letter together, and thrust it into his pocket.  He strode out of the room, and called for Hamish.

“Send Donald down to the quay,” said he, “and tell them to get the boat ready.  And he will take down my gun too.”

Old Hamish, noticing the expression of his master’s eyes, went off quickly enough, and soon got hold of Donald, the piper-lad.

“Donald,” said he, in the Gaelic, “you will run down to the quay as fast as your legs can carry you, and you will tell them to get the boat ready, and not to lose any time in getting the boat ready, and to have the seat dry, and let there be no talking when Sir Keith gets on board.  And here is the gun too, and the bag; and you will tell them to have no talking among themselves this day.”

When Macleod got down to the small stone pier, the two men were in the boat.  Johnny Wickes was standing at the door of the storehouse.

“Would you like to go for a sail, Johnny?” Macleod said abruptly, but there was no longer that dangerous light in his eyes.

“Oh yes, sir,” said the boy, eagerly; for he had long ago lost his dread of the sea.

“Get in, then, and get up to the bow.”

So Johnny Wickes vent cautiously down the few slippery stone steps, half tumbled into the bottom of the great open boat, and then scrambled up to the bow.

“Where will you be for going, sir?” said one of the men when Macleod had jumped into the stern and taken the tiller.

“Anywhere—­right out!” he answered, carelessly.