ings taken away, just to
remind the folk that they have not their land all in their own right.
It is many things you will have to do in managing the poor people, not
to let them get too proud, or forgetful of what they owe to you; and
now there is no more tacksmen to be the masters of the small crofters,
and the crofters they would think they were landlords themselves if
there were no dues for them to pay."

"I have heard of those middlemen: they were dreadful tyrants and
thieves, weren't they?" said Lavender. Ingram kicked his foot under
the table. "I mean, that was the popular impression of them--a vulgar
error, I presume," continued the young man in the coolest manner. "And
so you have got rid of them? Well, I dare say many of them were honest
men, and suffered very unjustly in common report."

Mackenzie answered nothing, but his daughter said quickly, "But, you
know, Mr. Lavender, they have not gone away merely because they cease
to have the letting of the land to the crofters. They have still their
old holdings, and so have the crofters in most cases. Every one now
holds direct from the proprietor, that is all."

"So that there is no difference between the former tacksman and his
serf except the relative size of their farms?"

"Well, the crofters have no leases, but the tacksmen have," said the
girl somewhat timidly; and then she added, "But you have not decided
yet, Mr. Ingram, what you will do to-day. It is too clear for the
salmon-fishing. Will you go over to Meavig, and show Mr. Lavender the
Bay of Uig and the Seven Hunters?"

"Surely we must show him Borvabost first, Sheila," said Ingram. "He
saw nothing of it last night in the dark; and I think, if you offered
to take Mr. Lavender round in your boat and show him what a clever
sailor you are, he would prefer that to walking over the hill."

"I can take you all round in the boat, certainly," said the girl with
a quick blush of pleasure; and forthwith a message was sent to Duncan
that cushions should be taken down to the Maighdean-mhara, the little
vessel of which Sheila was both skipper and pilot.

How beautiful was the fair sea-picture that lay around them as the
Maighdean-mhara stood out to the mouth of Loch Roag on this bright
summer morning! Sheila sat in the stern of the small boat, her hand
on the filler. Lufrath lay at her feet, his nose between the long and
shaggy paws. Duncan, grave and watchful as to the wind and the points
of the coast, sat a