have written a
letter."

She had the envelope in her hand.

"And if I would take money from any one, it would be from you, Cousin
Janet; but I am not so selfish as that. What would all the poor people
do if I were to take your money to London and spend it?"

"I have kept a little," said she, "and it is not much that is needed. It
is L2000 I would like you to take from me, Keith. I have written a
letter."

"Why, bless me, Janet, that is nearly all the money you've got!"

"I know it."

"Well, I may not be able to earn any money for myself, but at least I
would not think of squandering your little fortune. No, no; but I thank
you all the same, Janet; and I know that it is with a free heart that
you offer it."

"But this is a favor, Keith," said she. "I do not ask you, to spend the
money. But you might be in trouble; and you would be too proud to ask
any one--perhaps you would not even ask me; and here is a letter that
you can keep till then, and if you should want the money, you can open
the letter, and it will tell you how to get it."

"And it is a poor forecast you are making, Cousin Janet," said he,
cheerfully. "I am to play the prodigal son, then. But I will take the
letter. And good-bye again, Janet; and God bless you, for you are a
kind-hearted woman."

She went swiftly up to Castle Dare again, and he walked on toward the
shore. By-and-by he reached a small stone pier that ran out among some
rocks, and by the side of it lay a small sailing launch, with four men
in her, and Donald the piper boy perched up at the bow. There was a lamp
swinging at her mast, but she had no sail up, for there was scarcely any
wind.

"Is it time to go out now?" said Macleod to Hamish who stood waiting on
the pier, having carried down his master's portmanteau.

"Ay, it will be time now, even if you will wait a little," said Hamish.
And then the old man added, "It is a dark night, Sir Keith, for your
going away from Castle Dare."

"And it will be the brighter morning when I come back," answered the
young man, for he could not mistake the intention of the words.

"Yes, indeed, Sir Keith; and now you will go into the boat, and you will
take care of your footing, for the night is dark, and the rocks they are
always slippery whatever."

But Keith Macleod's foot was as familiar with the soft sea-weed of the
rocks as it was with the hard heather of the hills, and he found no
difficulty in getting into the broad-beamed boat. The