in a whirl,--I felt as if something unprecedented and almost
terrifying was about to happen,--but I could not reason out the
cause of my mental agitation.

"There they go!" said Mr. Harland--"They're alongside! See!--those
fellows are lowering the companion ladder--there's nothing
supernatural about THEM! Swinton's all right--look, he's on board!"

We strained our eyes through the brilliant flare shed by the
illuminated sails on the darkness and could see Mr. Swinton talking
to a group of sailors. One of them went away, but returned almost
immediately, followed by a man clad in white yachting flannels, who,
standing near one of the shining sails, caught some of the light on
his own figure with undeniably becoming effect. I was the first to
perceive him, and as I looked, the impression came upon me that he
was no stranger,--I had seen him often before. This sudden
consciousness swiftly borne in upon me calmed all the previous
tumult of my mind and I was no longer anxious as to the result of
our possible acquaintance. Catherine Harland pressed my arm
excitedly.

"There he is!" she said--"That must be the owner of the yacht. He's
reading father's letter."

He was,--we could see the little sheet of paper turning over in his
hands. And while we waited, wondering what would be his answer, the
light on the sails of his vessel began to pale and die away,--beam
after beam of radiance slipped off as it were like drops of water,
and before we could quite realise it there was darkness where all
had lately been so bright; and the canvas was hauled down. With the