"Oh, yes, why not?" said she, rather addressing herself to Kate Glendinning; "I am sure we shall be delighted—if it isn’t taking up too much of your time, Mr. Ross——"
"We can slip the moorings and be off at once," said he, and he gave a brief order to the men, himself going to the tiller. In a few minutes the _Sirène_ was under way, gliding along so quietly that the two visitors hardly knew that they were moving.
But their departure had not been unnoticed elsewhere. Suddenly, into the absolute silence prevailing around, there came a piteous wail—a wail so full of agony that immediately all eyes were directed to the shore, whence the sound proceeded. And there the origin of it was visible enough. Anna Chlannach had come down from her hiding-place to the edge of the water; she was seated on a rock, her hands clasped in front of her and her head bent down in an attitude of indescribable anguish, her body swaying to and fro, while from time to time she uttered this heartrending cry, of despair and appeal.
"Poor Anna!" said Mary, with tears starting to her eyes. "Let us go back, Mr. Ross! Never mind us. We can go home. You must take her out to Heimra."
"What would be the use?" he said. "She would only be more miserable, searching about and finding no mother anywhere. And Anna does not keep very long in one mood. She will soon lose sight of us—and then she’ll be off again searching for wild strawberries."
And perhaps it was to distract their attention from this melancholy setting out that he now called one of the men to the tiller, and would have his guests go below, to have a look at the ladies’ cabin and the saloon. Of course they were much interested and pleased—admiring the cunning little contrivances for the utilisation of space; while Mary arrived at the conclusion that, if these rooms were kept in order by Calum, Calum was a very handy youth to have in one’s service, whether afloat or ashore, They spent some time over these investigations; and when they came on deck again, they found they were well out at sea, with a far-extending view of the high and rocky coast, Lochgarra itself appearing as merely a thin grey-white line along one of those indented bays.
And still, and carelessly, and joyously, they kept on their course, the light breeze holding steady, the wide plain of water shining with a summer blue. Young Donald had not returned to the tiller; he was devoting himself assiduously to his two guests—their conversation, whatever its varying moods, accompanied by the soft, continuous murmur of these myriad-glancing ripples, for waves they could scarcely be called. And on this occasion Mary was not nearly so nervous, and excited, and wayward as she had been on the previous day; a placid, benign content reigned in her eyes; a sort of serious, bland sweetness in her demeanour. Käthchen thought to herself that she had never seen Mary Stanley look so beautiful, nor yet wearing so serene an air.