weird-looking Highland fellow who called himself Jamie, for though
three or four days had now passed since I first wore it, it showed
no signs of withering. As a rule the delicate waxen bells of this
plant turn yellow a few hours after they are plucked,--but my little
bunch was as brilliantly fresh as ever. I kept it in a glass without
water on the table in my sitting-room and it looked always the same.
I was questioning myself as to what I should really do if my
surroundings remained as hopelessly inert and uninteresting as they
were at present,--go on with the 'Diana' for a while longer on the
chance of seeing the strange yacht again--or make up my mind to get
put out at some point from which I could reach Inverness easily,
when Mr. Harland came up suddenly behind my chair and laid his hand
on my shoulder.

"Are you in dreamland?" he enquired--and I thought his voice sounded
rather weak and dispirited--"There's a wonderful light on those
hills just now."

I raised my eyes and saw the purple shadows being cloven and
scattered one after another, by long rays of late sunshine that
poured like golden wine through the dividing wreaths of vapour,--
above, the sky was pure turquoise blue, melting into pale opal and
emerald near the line of the grey sea which showed little flecks of
white foam under the freshening breeze. Bringing my gaze down from
the dazzling radiance of the heavens, I turned towards Mr. Harland
and was startled and shocked to see the drawn and livid pallor of
his face and the anguish of his expression.

"You are ill!" I exclaimed, and springing up in haste I offered him
my chair--"Do sit down!"