lift the line of thought 'up in the air' in the manner whereof I had
often been accused, but to keep it level with the ground. So that
when we left Tobermory, where we had anchored for a couple of days,
the limits of the yacht were becoming rather cramped and narrow for
our differing minds, and a monotony was beginning to set in that
threatened to be dangerous, if not unbearable. As the 'Diana'
steamed along through the drowsy misty light of the summer
afternoon, past the jagged coast of the mainland, I sat quite by
myself on deck, watching the creeping purple haze that partially
veiled the mountains of Ardnamurchan and Moidart, and I began to
wonder whether after all it might not be better to write to my
friend Francesca and tell her that her prophecies had already come
true,--that I was beginning to be weary of a holiday passed in an
atmosphere bereft of all joyousness, and that she must expect me in
Inverness-shire at once. And yet I was reluctant to end my trip with
the Harlands too soon. There was a secret wish in my heart which I
hardly breathed to myself,--a wish that I might again see the
strange vessel that had appeared and disappeared so suddenly, and
make the acquaintance of its owner. It would surely be an
interesting break in the present condition of things, to say the
least of it. I did not know then (though I know now) why my mind so
persistently busied itself with the fancied personality of the
unknown possessor of the mysterious craft which, as Captain Derrick
said, 'sailed without wind,' but I found myself always thinking
about him and trying to picture his face and form.

I took myself sharply to task for what I considered a foolish mental
attitude,--but do what I would, the attitude remained unchanged. It
was helped, perhaps, in a trifling way by the apparently fadeless
quality of the pink bell-heather which had been given me by the