He went to Edinburgh. He had no definite plan, only that he felt a desire
for seclusion, and he knew fewer people in Edinburgh than in Glasgow or
London. The day after his arrival there he accompanied a casual
acquaintance to Leith pier, from which place the latter was going to sail
for London. As he stood watching the vessel away, his hat blew off and a
fisherman brought it back to him. It was Will Johnson of Pittenloch, and
he was not a man to whom Allan felt he could offer money. But he stood
talking with him about the Fife fishing towns, until he became intensely
interested in their life. "I want to see them," he said to Will; "let me
have a couple of hours to get my trunks, and I will go with you to
Pittenloch."

There are very few men who have not a native longing for the ocean; who do
not love to go

"----back to the great, sweet Mother,
Mother and lover of men, the sea;"

and Allan forgot all his annoyances, as soon as he felt the bound of the
boat under him. Johnson had to touch at Largo, but ere they reached it the
wind rose, and it was with some difficulty the harbor was made. But during
the rough journey Allan got very near to the men in the boat; he looked
forward to a stay at Pittenloch with pleasure; and afterward, events would
doubtless shape themselves better than he could at that time determine
them.

It had been a sudden decision, and made very much in that spirit which
leads men to toss up a penny for an oracle. And sometimes it seems as if a
Fate, wise or otherwise, answers the call so recklessly made. If he lived