But Aunt Gilchrist was not to be put off her purpose; this rambling panegyric was all very well, but it was not business.

"I'm very pleased to hear ye say so," she observed, with much deliberation; "very pleased indeed. For I confess to a liking for the bit lady; and I'm glad to know that in the eyes of other folk she has attractions-and attractions in her own right, so that she is not dependent on what others may do for her. Now I'm going to be frank with ye, Captain Macdonell, and I'll tell ye why I like to hear my bit lady well spoken of, and for her own sake alone. When the doctors have done their worst wi' me, and I must go and indeed there needna be much regret about departing for another world if it's a Hydropathic ye happen to be living in at the time-there's a bit money I've to leave behind me; and both my poor husband and myself were of one mind that it should go to Alison-or the bulk of it, at least. But that's just as I choose; I may leave it to her, or not leave it to her. Now attend to this: what's the value of the solemn will and testament of a wretched creature that suffers from neureetis? Why, as long as he or she is alive, not a brass farthing! Not a single penny, I tell ye! A twinge goes through your ankle: there's a flare-up of a quarrel; a new will is made instanter, and the money goes to somebody else. That's the way of it. If King David was alive-poor man, he said some sensible things when he wasna aye groaning away at his supplications-King David would say, 'Put not your trust in princes; no, nor in anybody that has got peripheral neuralgia.' So ye understand, Captain Ludovick, why it is I'm pleased that my niece Alison is attractive on her own account, for it is entirely possible that she will never get a farthing from me.'

This intimation-which in the end was plain and clear enough, notwithstanding the cunning and roundabout way it had been introduced-did not seem to disconcert the young laird. As Alison and Flora were coming up at the moment, all he could say

was,

"I don't think your niece will ever have to depend on that attraction, Mrs. Gilchrist; but neither do I think that you and she are likely to quarrel."

When at length they got over to Fort William, they found Hugh Munro waiting for them on the quay (a most unexpected honor), with the great news that his sailing-boat was quite fin

ished, and ready to be launched on the following morning. As they walked along to the house, he somewhat shyly suggested to Alison that she might perform the christening ceremony; and Alison cheerfully assented-merely stipulating that she should be told what to do. But when they would have him finally declare what he had resolved to call the new craft, he became evasive. They would know in the morning, he said. He wanted to see how the name looked-in blue letters on the band of white under the gunwale.

"Oho!" cried Flora. "Then to-morrow we are to get at the grand secret, Alison! I believe it's that Irish girl who was at Ballachulish with the Macphersons; you'll see the boat will be called 'Norah,' or 'Rosina,' or 'Kathleen' do you know, he was quite civil to her; he actually stood by the piano, and turned over her music for her-I wonder when he would do that for any of us!"

However, Hugh would say nothing further; and during the rest of the evening, whenever the morrow's celebration was spoken of, it was chiefly to assure Alison that her duties would be extremely simple. Nor was there to be much of an assemblage: the Doctor would be away attending to his professional duties; Mrs. Munro would be looking after her household; Aunt Gilchrist did not care to walk so far (periphery forbidding); and they certainly did not mean to take the fiend Johnny with them on the inaugural trip, and have him wishing all the time for the joy of some mighty disaster. Not only that, but the designer and owner of the craft intimated to the two girls that, after the christening ceremony, they might as well return home: Ludovick and he meant to have a serious trial of the boat and her sails; and it would be a mistake (as he hinted) to have useless baggage on board.

The ceremony, as it turned out, was of the briefest. On this bright, breezy, sunny morning the four of them walked along to the building-yard, and found the trim, shining, newly varnished boat fixed in an improvised slip, with a gallant bunch of white heather at her bowsprit. Alison, with a modest little bottle in her hand, came forward blithely enough to perform her part; but when she got to the stem of the boat she suddenly paused, and a quick flush overspread her pale face; for there, before her, on the white band, in neat, small letters of blue, she beheld the name

that had been chosen-THE BIT LADY. Hugh was shy, and hung back; Flora was laughing; but Ludovick Macdonell, who was by Alison's side, took the bottle from her, cut the strings, released the cork, and returned it to her; whereupon she poured a little of the wine over the bow, and managed to say, "Good-luck-and -and-I hope she will be everything that has been expected of her-and-and good weather!"—which, alas! was all unlike the neat little speech she had prepared. Then with a cheer the boat was run down the slip into the water, and held there; the builder's men had a glass of whiskey apiece, to drink her good-fortune; and forthwith, as Macdonell and Hugh got on board, and began to haul the sails about, the two young ladies took their departure.

66 And what do you think of yourself now?" demanded Miss Flora of her companion (who, in truth, was extremely mortified that she had made such a muddle of her benediction). “I believe you were in the secret all the time. Ob, it's you quiet ones who know how to come out with a dramatic effect! The pretty confusion-the pretty embarrassment-the pretty, stammering little speech! Very well done-very well done indeed-you hypocrite and actress! But there's one thing perhaps you're not aware of; it wasn't Hugh who ever thought of calling the boat after you; no, it wasn't. Don't you go and pride yourself, Miss Dimity, with the notion that you have found favor in the eyes of my lord the Sultan. What can you do better than any of us? Can you drive a nail in straight? Are you ever correct about the direction of the wind? Can you mark a tennis-court, or fold a newspaper, or, indeed, do anything right? Can you strap up a portmanteau without making a fool of yourself? Well, now, that is too bad!" continued Miss Flora, suddenly shifting her ground. "You don't know what trouble I take in packing his portmanteau for him-remembering twenty things he would be sure to have forgotten, and putting them all in their places, and folded and arranged, instead of shovelling them together, as he would do. Then, when everything is ready to be sent downstairs, my lord comes in; he looks at the portmanteau; catches hold of a strap—and of course it's sure to yield a little if you pull at it with the strength of a rhinoceros; he nods his head, as much as to say, 'I thought so; this is the way a girl buckles a strap;' then he hauls each strap until he has got each buckle three holes

tighter, and goes away with a contemptuous look. And do you think he considers you anything more accurate, or handy, or fit to live than the rest of us? I bet you now, if he asked you to guess the distance over to the other side of the loch there, you would be at least half a mile out; and he wouldn't remonstrate with you; he'd only look at you as if to say, 'I wonder what tempted Providence to create such a set of helpless idiots as girls are!' So don't you flatter yourself, Miss Dimity Puritan, that you have won any favor. You're only a girl-your Latin is always wrong -you're frightened of cows-you can't do anything right. But if you would like to know who put that idea into his head of calling the boat after you-"

"Who, then, Flora?" her companion asked; but the big gray eyes were downcast, and there was a slight flush on the pale face, that seemed to say that Miss Alison had guessed the answer to her own question.

"Why, Ludovick Macdonell, of course!" the other said. "Isn't it as clear as day?"

CHAPTER VI.

UEBER ALLEN GIPFELN.

WELL, The Bit Lady was duly launched, and her sailing powers tested again and again; but nevertheless Ludovick Macdonell seemed to be in no hurry to return to Oyre. Perhaps the plans and specifications wanted further amending; perhaps the contractor's estimate was excessive; at all events, Captain Macdonell remained in Fort William, and very much at the service of the Munroes and of Miss Alison their guest. It was not "Alison" as yet, but matters were tending in that direction; for the young man carried his good-humored straightforwardness to the verge of audacity; and these four companions had been much together. They left Johnny ashore now when they went away lythe-fishing as the evening fell. Alison had got on capitally with her rowing, and she was fond of it; and she preferred to ply a lazy oar in concert with Captain Ludovick, while Flora and Hugh, in the stern of the boat, looked after the rods, and the lines, and the

large white flies. Sometimes the fishing was not heeded much. Sometimes they merely rowed, and quietly talked and listenedthe hills around them growing darker and more dark, but the loch reflecting a wan and steely gray from the pale splendor still hanging in the north-western heavens. The charm of the twilight was enough for them; the birds all gone to rest; an odor of sea-weed in the slumbering air; an orange ray, trembling down on the mystic expanse of the water, telling of some cottage-window under the black woods opposite; a point of red and a point of green far in the south-the sailing-lights of a yacht lying there becalmed. Then the long and idle pull home; the first white stars becoming visible in the transparent heavens; a string of golden beads along the distant shore showing them the little town for which they were making. Hugh would now take Alison's place, sending her to sit side by side, and arm in arm, with Flora. And when either brother or sister began to sing one of those old Gaelic airs, instantly there was the other voice joining in, softly and with exquisite harmony, in this silence broken only by the measured plash of the oars. These were magical, lambent nights. When Alison, long afterwards, in Kirk o' Shields, tried to recall them, it seemed to her as if they were far too wonderful and beautiful-as if they never could have been.

But meanwhile there came along the long-talked-of night pilgrimage to the summit of Ben Nevis, with the hope of witnessing the sun rise over the German ocean; and when the appointed evening arrived, everything seemed to be propitious. The weather had been fine for some days before; the glass was high and steady; the few light airs wandering about hardly stirred the glassy surface of the loch. Accordingly, all preparations were made; and when they were ready to start, Johnny was sent on in advance with the two ponies, and directed as to where he should wait for the little party outside the town.

Johnny was a very proud lad as he set forth; for although his savage manners had not been softened by any acquaintance with the graceful palæstra, he bestrode his meek-eyed animal with much dignity, leading the other pony-the sumpter-pony, which carried the slung water-proofs and what not-by the bridle-rein, while in his right hand he bore sceptre-wise a stout oaken cudgel. Nor was his dignity of demeanor, as he passed in stately fashion along the main street of Fort William, sacrificed to that love of