eila had become a fine lady in the South, and
saw fine things and went among fine people. Perhaps this notion of
his was a sort of apology to them--perhaps it was an apology to
himself--for his having let her go away from the island; but at all
events the simple folks about Borva knew that Miss Sheila, as they
still invariably called her, lived in the same town as the queen
herself, and saw many lords and ladies, and was present at great
festivities, as became Mr. Mackenzie's only daughter. And naturally
these rumors and stories were exaggerated by the kindly interest and
affection of the people into something far beyond what Sheila's
father intended; insomuch that many an old crone would proudly and
sagaciously wag her head, and say that when Miss Sheila came back to
Borva strange things might be seen, and it would be a proud day for
Mr. Mackenzie if he was to go down to the shore to meet Queen Victoria
herself, and the princes and princesses, and many fine people, all
come to stay at his house and have great rejoicings in Borva.

Thus it was that Duncan invariably lingered about when he brought
a letter from Sheila; and if her father happened to forget or be
preoccupied, Duncan would humbly but firmly remind him. On-this
occasion Mr. Mackenzie put down his paint-brush and took the bundle of
letters and newspapers Duncan had brought him. He selected that from
Sheila, and threw the others on the beach beside him.

There was really no news in the letter. Sheila merely said that she
could not as yet answer her father's question as to the time she might
probably visit Lewis. She hoped he was well, and that, if she could
not get up to Borva that autumn, he would come South to London for
a time, when the hard weather set in in the North. And so forth. But
there was something in the tone of the letter that struck the old man
as being unusual and strange. It was very formal in its phraseology.
He read it twice over very carefully, and forgot altogether that
Duncan was waiting. Indeed, he was going to turn away, forgetting
his work and the other letters that still lay on the beach, when he
observed that there was a postscript on the other side of the last
page. It merely said: "Will you please address your letters now to No.
---- Pembroke road, South Kensington, where I may be for some time?"

That was an imprudent postscript. If she had shown the letter to any
one, she would have been warned of the blunder she was committing