He offered me his arm, but I put it aside and walked by myself
towards the deck saloon. Mr. Harland and Catherine were seated
there, with all the lights turned full on, so that the radiance of
the moon through the window was completely eclipsed. The piano was
open. As I came in Catherine looked at me with a surprised air.

"Why, how pale you are!" she exclaimed--"One would think you had
seen a ghost!"

I laughed.

"Perhaps I have! Loch Scavaig is sufficient setting for any amount
of ghosts. It's such a lonely place,"--and a slight tremor ran
through me as I played a few soft chords--"What shall I sing to
you?"

"Something of the country we are in,"--said Mr. Harland--"Don't you
know any of those old wild Gaelic airs?"

I thought a moment, and then to a low rippling accompaniment I sang
the old Celtic 'Fairy's Love Song'--

"Why should I sit and sigh,
Pu'in' bracken, pu'in' bracken,
Why should I sit and sigh,
On the hill-side dreary--
When I see the plover rising,
Or the curlew wheeling,
Then I know my mortal lover
Back to me is stealing.