ay Sheila from him?

But how could these doubts of Sheila's sincerity last? He sat opposite
her in the wagonette, and the perfect truth of her face, of her frank
eyes and of her ready smile met him at every moment, whether he talked
to her or to Ingram, or listened to old Mackenzie, who turned from time
to time from the driving of the horses to inform the stranger of what he
saw around him. It was the most brilliant of mornings. The sun burned on
the white road, on the green moorland, on the gray-lichened rocks with
their crimson patches of heather. As they drove by the curious
convolutions of this rugged coast, the sea that lay beyond these
recurring bays and points was of a windy green, with here and there a
streak of white, and the fresh breeze blowing across to them tempered
the fierce heat of the sun. How cool, too, were those little fresh-water
lakes they passed, the clear blue and white of them stirred into
wavelets that moved the reeds and left air-bubbles about the
half-submerged stones! Were not those wild-geese over there, flapping in
the water with their huge wings and taking no notice of the passing
strangers? Lavender had never seen this lonely coast in times of gloom,
with those little lakes become sombre pools, and the outline of the
rocks beyond lost in the driving mist of the sea and the rain. It was
altogether a bright and beautiful world he had got into, and there was
in it but one woman, beautiful beyond his dreams. To doubt her was to
doubt all women. When he looked at her he forgot the caution and
distrust and sardonic self-complacency his southern training had given
him. He believed, and the world seemed to be filled with a new light.

"That is Loch-na-Muirne," Mackenzie was saying, "and it iss the Loch of
the Mill; and over there that is Loch-a-Bhaile, and that iss the Loch of
the Town; but where iss the loch and the town now? It wass many hundreds
of years before there will be numbers of people in this place; and you
will come to Dun Charlobhaidh, which is a great castle, by and by. And
what wass it will drive away the people, and leave the land to the moss,
but that there wass no one to look after them? 'When the natives will
leave Islay, farewell to the peace of Scotland.' That iss a good
proverb. And if they have no one to mind them, they will go away
altogether. And there is no people more obedient than the people of the
Highlands--not anywhere; for you know that we say, 'Is it the truth, a