simplicity recall to
both of them the island they used to find so pleasant? Would not they
suddenly resolve to leave behind them London and its ways and people,
even this monotonous sea out there, and speed away northwardly till
they came in sight of the great and rolling Minch, with its majestic
breadth of sky and its pale blue islands lying far away at the
horizon? Then the happy landing at Stornoway--her father and Duncan
and Mairi all on the quay--the rapid drive over to Loch Roag, and the
first glimpse of the rocky bays and clear water and white sand about
Borva and Borvabost! And Sheila would once more--having cast aside
this cumbrous attire that she had to change so often, and having
got out that neat and simple costume that was so good for walking or
driving or sailing--be proud to wait upon her guests, and help Mairi
in her household ways, and have a pretty table ready for the gentlemen
when they returned from the shooting.

Her husband came up the hotel stairs and entered the room. She rose to
meet him, with the open letter in her hand.

"Sheila," he said (and the light slowly died away from her face), "I
have something to ask of you."

She knew by the sound of his voice that she had nothing to hope: it
was not the first time she had been disappointed, and yet this time it
seemed especially bitter somehow. The awakening from these illusions
was sudden.

She did not answer, so he said in the same measured voice, "I have to
ask that you will have henceforth no communication with Mr. Ingram: I
do not wish him to come to the house."

She stood for a moment, apparently not understanding the meaning of
what he said. Then, when the full force of this decision and request
came upon her, a quick color sprang to her face, the cause of which,
if it had been revealed to him in words, would have considerably
astonished her husband. But that moment of doubt, of surprise and
of inward indignation was soon over. She cast down her eyes and said
meekly, "Very well, dear."

It was now his turn to be astonished, and mortified as well. He could
not have believed it possible that she should so calmly acquiesce in
the dismissal of one of her dearest friends. He had expected a more or
less angry protest, if not a distinct refusal, which would have given
him an opportunity for displaying the injuries he conceived himself
to have suffered at their hands. Why had she not come to himself? This
man Ingram was presuming on his anc