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A thin and delicate haze of mist hung over the land like a pale violet veil through which the sun shot beams of rose and gold, giving a vaporous unsubstantial effect to the scenery as though it were gliding with us like a cloud pageant on the surface of the calm water. The shores of Loch Scavaig began to be dimly seen in the distance, and presently Captain Derrick approached Mr.
"Immediately after you left, sir," was the reply. I looked and saw the two yachts the 'Dream' and the 'Diana, anchored in the widest part of Loch Scavaig the one with the disfiguring funnels that make even the most magnificent steam yacht unsightly as compared with a sailing vessel, the other a perfect picture of lightness and grace, resting like a bird with folded wings on the glittering surface of the water.
I soon ceased to perplex myself with futile speculations on the subject, however, and as the last peaks of the Scavaig hills vanished in pale blue distance I felt as if I had been brought suddenly back from a fairyland to a curiously dull and commonplace world. Everyone on board the 'Diana' seemed occupied with the veriest trifles, Catherine remained too ill to appear all day, and Dr.
It's always a fine sight and it promises to be specially fine this evening, there are so many picturesque clouds floating about. We are turning back to Loch Scavaig, and when we get there we can land and do the rest of the excursion on foot. It's not much of a climb; will you feel equal to it?" This question he put to me personally. I smiled. "Of course! I feel equal to anything!
And I talked gaily with Captain Derrick on the subject of the 'Diana' and the course of her possible cruise, while he scanned the waters in search of her, and I watched with growing impatience our gradual approach to Loch Scavaig, which in the bright afternoon looked scarcely less dreary than at night, especially now that the 'Diana' was no longer there to give some air of human occupation to the wild and barren surroundings.
The sails filled, though the air was intensely warm and stirless an air in which any ordinary schooner would have been hopelessly becalmed, and almost before we knew it we were out of Loch Scavaig and flying as though borne on the wings of some great white bird, all along the wild and picturesque coast of Skye towards Loch Bracadale.
They had pushed the launch off shore again and were starting it back to the yacht, it being arranged that they should return for us in a couple of hours. We were following a path among slippery stones near a rushing torrent, but as we turned round a sharp bend we lost the view of Loch Scavaig itself and were for the first time truly alone.
By eleven o'clock we were steaming out of Loch Scavaig, and as I looked back on the sombre mountain-peaks that stood sentinel-wise round the deeply hidden magnificence of Loch Coruisk, I wondered if my visionary experience there had been only the work of my own excited imagination, or whether it really had foundation in fact?
There on the dark and lonely waters of Loch Scavaig was poised, rather than anchored, the fairy vessel of my dreams, with all sails spread, sails that were white as milk and seemingly drenched with a sparkling dewy radiance, for they scintillated like hoar-frost in the sun and glittered against the sombre background of the mountainous shore with an almost blinding splendour.
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.
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