Down the River to the Sea Part 6

"There's a squall coming down the river," said Hugh Macnab, who had been watching from the stern the pretty grouping of the small islands that here studded the channel.

"Yes, indeed," said Kate. "They often come up here suddenly. Look how one point after another is sponged out by the gray mist. See there, how the rain is driving down over there already."

"And it will be here in a minute," said Mr. Winthrop, rising hastily.

"Come, you must all get into the centre of the boat, well under the awning, if you won't go down stairs."

Mrs. Sandford thought it best to retreat to the cabin below, being afraid of thunder, but all the others protested that it was much too interesting to watch the arrival of the storm. At a suggestion from Mr. Winthrop, however, he and Hugh made a dash down to the cabin for wraps and umbrella, returning in a second or two with an armful of waterproofs, in which the ladies were all carefully wrapped before the first heavy rain-drops came pattering down on deck. And then, for a minute, how they _did_ come down, lashing the deck till it was flooded;--even where they sat the drops flew, into their faces, and, but for the waterproofs, would have drenched their garments. Kate, who loved a storm, was looking brilliantly handsome, and so--May was sure--thought Mr. Winthrop, who kept his position near her, so as to shelter a little from the onslaught of the rain. And how--she inwardly wondered--would Hugh Macnab like the sudden invasion from this stranger and foreigner, who seemed to make himself so very much at home? She fancied that his somewhat sensitive face looked clouded, but perhaps it was only the reflection of the clouds without, for, presently when the rain-drops gradually ceased, and the sun shone out again, brighter, as it seemed, than ever, his face brightened, too, and he watched eagerly for the first appearance of what might properly be called the real Thousand Island group.

"There they are!" Kate exclaimed, at length, as some soft, cloud-like forms loomed up against the distant horizon, still somewhat misty with the receding rain. "See how they cl.u.s.ter there together! And do you see those tiny white specks? Those are the lighthouses that mark the channel. And there, if you can catch a glimpse of some white houses beyond those islands--, those are part of the poetically named town of Gananoque, '_Rocks in Deep Water_,' as the Indian name signifies. And it is a good enough description, if only they would have added 'Rocks in Shallow Water' as well; for there is certainly no lack of rocks in either the depths or the shallows!"

And now the little steamer began to wind in and out among the cl.u.s.tered islets, some of them little more than rough granite crags, bristling with wind-tossed pines, others ma.s.ses of tangled foliage, and others still, partially cleared, with fanciful little cottages embowered in trees and cl.u.s.tering vines. At some of these cottages the inhabitants, like the campers, amused themselves by blowing a horn as a salute, to which the steamer amiably responded, after which there would be another flutter of handkerchiefs from the loungers on the verandas or by the sh.o.r.e.

"Well," said Hugh, "though we know it really means nothing, it does seem pleasant to be waved at, as if one were coming home!"

"And yet the same people would only stare critically at you if they met you in the street."

"It's the air of these charming islands," laughed Kate. "It makes every one so genial and overflowing with the milk of human kindness that they can't help expressing it all round!"

"Or so idle that even this mild excitement is entertaining," said Mr.

Winthrop.

"Wait till you have tried it a little while!" said Kate. "Perhaps even you may grow less cynical there. But where are you going now?"

"I believe this little steamer will take me to Clayton to-night. My friends are there fishing, and are expecting me to join them."

"And that is how far from here?" asked Hugh.

"About eight miles," Kate replied--"on the American side of the river."

"Oh, then, we shall meet again, I hope, and improve our acquaintance,"

said Hugh, as he rose in response to Mrs. Sandford's commands, for now they had rounded the last island and were rapidly approaching the pretty little town of Gananoque, while the slanting rays of the westering sun threw out the foliage of the islands and the sh.o.r.e into the richest green, and gave the whole scene its brightest aspect.

Close by the wharf lay a tiny steam-yacht, on whose floating pennon Kate speedily recognized the name "_Oneida_," and in a moment more the waving of white handkerchiefs announced the presence of the friends who were waiting them there. To May it seemed like a fairy tale to be received into a private steam-yacht as an expected guest, instead of the open skiff she had been looking for. It was more than ever like a dream;--the little cabin, the dainty furnishings, the miniature engine with its polished bra.s.s fittings--everything seemed new, beautiful, delightful. Flora Macnab was equally delighted, declaring she had "never seen such a dear wee vessel before;" and Hugh, though quiet as usual, mentally noted everything with much satisfaction. Mr. Winthrop accompanied them on board, carrying Kate's wraps, and was just hurrying off back to the steamer when their host, Mr. Leslie, after a brief introduction, urged that he should accompany the others as his guest.--"For I can a.s.sure you we can always make room for one guest more,"--he said with cheery hospitality.

But Mr. Winthrop declined the invitation with many thanks, on the ground that his friends were expecting him, adding that if he might be allowed to come a little later, for a day or two, he should be delighted to do so.

"Any time you will," said Mr. Leslie, and he hurried off to catch his boat, which was on the point of starting again, while the others were duly introduced to the members of Mr. Leslie's family who had come to meet them. The little steam-yacht only waited for a supply of baskets, containing supplies, to be stowed away on board, and then it, too, uttered its shrill little parting whistle, and darted off on its way to the island, some miles distant, which was Mr. Leslie's summer home.

To May it seemed like fairyland--this little evening sail among these lovely islands, in a yacht so low as to bring the eye on a level with their base, and not going too fast to enable her to enjoy in detail the beauty of lichen-crested rocks festooned with creepers and wild roses, and of still, placid reaches, dyed crimson and purple by the sunset hues, where cl.u.s.ters of snowy water-lilies were shining like stars amid the dark leaves. In the subdued evening light, the nearer islands were so soft a green--the distant ones looked softly purple in the light haze that helped to idealize the scene,--that May, for one, would have liked to wind in and out in this dreamy, leisurely fashion for hours, and was almost sorry when she was startled from her dream by the shrill whistle of the yacht, and found they were nearing a little rustic pier flanked by dusky pines and cedars.

The party were soon disembarked amid the lively little group that stood awaiting them on the pier--young men in boating flannels, lively children, young girls in cool, light blouses and dark blue skirts.

Ready hands seized packages and baskets, and then they all followed an ascending, fragrant, sloping path that led between lichened rocks and nodding ferns to an open glade higher up, where stood their pretty summer cottage, with its wide verandas, looking capacious enough to accommodate two or three city houses. Mr. and Mrs. Leslie were excellent hosts; and, in a few minutes, every one was conducted to a room, and May found herself installed in what she mentally styled the dearest little nest, up under the eaves, commanding what seemed, in the transfiguring evening light, the most enchanting view of the island-studded channel. It reminded her of her room and window at the _Clifton_;--both views so beautiful, and yet so altogether different.

But she was not long left to her dreaming, for a peremptory horn sounded, and Kate and Flora were calling to her to hasten down to tea.

Downstairs, in a simply-furnished room, with large French windows opening on a wide piazza, they found a long tea-table spread for the recent arrivals--the rest of the party having already finished their evening meal, being, indeed, too hungry to wait for anybody.

"For we're all as hungry as hawks here!" declared one of the merry girls in a boating-dress. "Between boating and fishing and running about, we're out all day long, and that gives one no end of an appet.i.te."

After tea there was a delicious hour or two on the veranda, the only alloy being the visits of a few mosquitoes. "Nothing like what we have had, however," Mrs. Leslie observed. "We've often been obliged to retreat within the shelter of our mosquito-blinds in the evening. But to-morrow will be the first of August, and we are not likely to be troubled with them much longer."

"That is a comfort!" exclaimed Flora, who seemed to be a favorite victim of the troublesome little insects. "But how startlingly bright the fireflies are," she said presently, as it grew darker, and the scintillating living sparks of fire--as they seemed--flashed in and out of the trees, giving the impression--as Hugh remarked--that they might really set fire to them. And presently she joyously descried, faintly visible near the horizon, a silver thread of crescent moon, the promiser of much additional enjoyment during the weeks of their stay.

Next morning was as charming a morning as any one could have desired to see. The river lay still and calm, and blue as a dream, sleeping, as it seemed, in the embrace of the cl.u.s.tering green islands, which looked so fresh and so cool in the early morning light. May was so excited that she could not sleep a moment after the first rosy gleams of sunshine stole into her cas.e.m.e.nt, which she had left wide open, that she might not lose a moment of the view which had so delighted her the evening before. As she dressed, she feasted her eyes on the delicious freshness of the early morning, on the exquisite tint of the water here and there, just rippled by the faintest breeze, the soft, distant, blue islands that seemed to float on the placid stream like "purple isles of Eden," the rich contrast of dark evergreen and rich deciduous foliage, on the nearer sh.o.r.es, till it all seemed too exquisite for a reality, and in the stillness of the morning she felt as if she were still in a dream.

She was soon dressed, however, and hastened down, eager to explore, all alone, the island where she was. She had only to go a few steps from the piazza to find herself among the primitive rocks, crusted with gray lichen and cushioned with soft, velvet moss, or overhung with the glossy foliage of the bear-berry or the vines of the whortle-berry, from which the dark blue fruit was dropping as she raised them. She followed a winding pathway leading under a fragrant archway of overhanging foliage, which wound its way in a rambling fashion about the island, giving, now and then, lovely glimpses, vistas between mossy banks of rock, or pretty little vignettes framed in by an overhanging hemlock. At length, after making pretty nearly the tour of the island, wending her way among thickets of feathery sumach and broad-leaved rubus, bearing deep crimson flowers, with long festoons of partridge-berry, and its white, star-like flowers amid the pine-needles under her feet, and finding, to her great delight, some specimens of the exquisite, snowy Indian-pipe, looking--in the early morning light--more ghostly than ever--she found herself at the little landing beside the boat-house, where they had disembarked on the previous evening. There she sat down to rest on a rustic seat, placed so as to command a charming vista, with a tiny island in the foreground, which she was absorbed in contemplating, when the plash of oars broke in upon her reverie, and she turned to see who might be the early oars-man. It was Hugh Macnab, arrayed in white flannels, with a lovely cl.u.s.ter of wild roses in his hand. He greeted her with a smile and came up at once, holding out the roses as he approached.

"I scarcely expected to find any one up yet," he said, laughing. "I came out just about dawn, to have the full enjoyment of this exquisite morning, and thought I would try a little cruise by myself to see whether I had forgotten the rowing I learned in my Oxford summer. And I found a little island out yonder, so inviting for a swim that I couldn't resist it. I should like to show you that same little island,'"--he added. "It's only a little way; won't you come? But what is that you have got in your hand?" he said, looking at the waxen flowers she held.

May explained what the ghostly little plant was, and he eagerly took it in order to examine it. "Oh, yes, I've read of this curious plant,"--he said. "I am so glad to actually see one! Now, suppose we exchange bouquets, if you will take my roses for your spectral flowers. I brought them over from that island, intending to give them to the first lady I met. Please take them;--it's a case of the early bird getting the worm, you know."

For May at first hesitated a little. She felt as if the roses ought by right to go to Kate, but then she could not say so. So she ended by thanking him as gracefully as her embarra.s.sment would let her, and putting the roses carefully in her belt. They were lovely roses, too, of a peculiarly deep crimson, as the late wild roses are, and glistening still with the early dew. Hugh placed his "Pipes" carefully in his hat, for the present, and then led the way to the pretty cedar skiff, with its luxurious cane east chair at the stern, in which she took her seat, with a little inward wonder whether she were doing quite right, and the skiff was soon rapidly cleaving its way through the gla.s.sy water under the quick strokes of Hugh's oar. It was wonderful, she thought, how much he seemed to have improved in health and spirits during the fortnight which had pa.s.sed since she had first met him; and how much more color and animation he now had. Surely, she thought, Kate would never be so blind as to prefer _that_ Mr.

Winthrop, who, to her eye, was so much less attractive-looking than Hugh! She was too much preoccupied in thinking out this problem to say much, though she could silently take in the loveliness of the scene.

Rounding a rocky point covered with wild roses, from which Hugh had picked his bouquet, they found themselves in a tiny bay, where the limpid wavelets lapped gently upon a beach of silver sand, while the rocks of rosy granite which formed the bay were draped in part with a tangle of luxuriant creepers and crested with sweeping pine-boughs.

Presently the boat grated on the sandy beach, and Hugh handed her out of the boat and led the way to a granite ledge commanding an exquisite view of sleeping river and cl.u.s.tering islets. The river lay almost absolutely still, only barred here and there with long streaks of ripple that betokened an incipient breeze. The heavy ma.s.ses of verdure on the opposite sh.o.r.e and the surrounding islands seemed also asleep; only an occasional carol of a bird broke the charmed silence. May and her companion were very silent also, for ordinary talk in such a spot, at such an hour, seemed well-nigh profane, and both were too reserved to express the deeper feelings the scene awakened. After a silent interval, May turned to call Hugh's attention to a distant sail just catching the still slanting rays of the sun, when she noticed that he had taken a slip of paper which had been lying in the boat and was writing rapidly. She refrained from disturbing him, for how could she tell that he might not be writing _poetry_? But he had caught her movement, and presently stopped writing and turned towards her, when the slip of paper, which he was holding carelessly, was caught by the freshening breeze and carried close to her feet. She naturally stooped to pick it up, and involuntarily glancing at it, could see that it _was_ poetry; but Hugh caught it from her, with so much apparent discomposure, coloring vividly, that May felt sure he was annoyed by her intervention, and felt a little uncomfortable; the more so because she could not say anything about it. She wondered whether the verses had any reference to Kate, since he seemed so much afraid of their being seen. They rowed back as silently as they had come, and the momentary annoyance soon cleared off the faces of both under the potent charm of the exquisite beauty around them. They found only the children astir; but Kate and Flora, when they came down soon after to breakfast, were very curious to know what May had been doing with herself--out all alone "almost before daylight," they declared--and especially curious to know from whence she had got the lovely little bouquet of wild roses that looked so charming in her belt. But May laughingly declared that she did not intend to tell where she got it; and Hugh, of course, said nothing about it. She did not, however, wear it long. The roses were carefully put away before they withered, and eventually some of them were pressed to serve as a memento of the loveliest morning, May thought, that she had ever seen. She told Kate, however, that Hugh had given her a row to a neighboring island, feeling a little guilty as she did so. But Kate only remarked, as if the thing were a matter of course: "Well, I'm glad Hugh has gained so much in energy! Since he can row so well, I shall make him row me about everywhere!"

Both she and Flora, however, soon found that they had an _embarras des richesses_ in the matter of rowing, for there were half a dozen youthful oarsmen ready and eager to row or paddle them wherever they desired to go, so that Hugh's services were not so much in demand, and it happened, not infrequently, that May found herself his companion in their boating expeditions, and as she had not had much opportunity for rowing, he undertook to teach her to use the oars in a more artistic manner than she had as yet attained, which proved a very interesting occupation to both; though May sometimes regretted that Kate so often declined to accompany them, fancying that it really hurt Hugh.

That day and several others glided away only too swiftly. No one could imagine where the hours had gone. There were evening rows, and sails in a good-sized sailboat, always at the disposal of any of the party who cared to use it, and aimless meanderings through the tangled paths of the island, sometimes with the ostensible object of berry-picking, for the wild raspberries were still found in great abundance, and were in great request for breakfast and tea. In the forenoon there was always a general bathing party, when the young men took themselves to one end of the island, in order to practise their aquatic feats by themselves, and the girls, in their loose, short bathing suits, disported themselves to their hearts' content in the limpid tide, in a pretty little sandy bay, lined to the water's edge with luxuriant foliage, which almost concealed the little rustic bathing box. Then there was the luxurious lounge, with a pleasant book, before the early dinner, in a shady corner of the veranda, for these August days were pretty warm. For a while after dinner there was a suspiciously quiet air about Sumach Lodge, as it was called; but when the heat of the day began to give place to the cool afternoon breeze, the little party began to wake up from its _siesta_, and skiffs and canoes were hauled out and filled, as little groups departed on various expeditions, some simply to explore island nooks, some to fish, and some to gather the water-lilies which grew in a secluded bay not far off, or, on a breezy afternoon, to try a sailing cruise in a pretty "b.u.t.terfly" sailboat belonging to one of he young men, who was always glad to muster a crew. In the cool of the evening the "boys" often tried their canoe races, sometimes playfully wrestling as they pa.s.sed each other, for they never minded an upset, but were back in their canoes again almost as soon as they were out of them. And now that the moon was rapidly growing in size and light, no one wanted to do anything in the evening, but sit on the veranda or the sh.o.r.e, and enjoy the charming moonlight effects. May, of course, was never tired of watching the tremulous path of silver stretching from island to island, or the exquisite effect when some picturesque cl.u.s.ter of islets stood out in dark relief on what seemed a silver sea, and--a very unusual phenomenon--when the shadow of the island was thrown across its reflection in the scarcely rippled river. Hugh Macnab, like herself, seemed fascinated with the mysterious beauty of the moonlit scene, and was frequently suspected of endeavoring to reproduce its charm in verse.

These seemed truly enchanted evenings, which no one wished to cut short, so that May found that the late hours she kept at night came a good deal in the way of the enjoyment of those early morning hours which she had at first thought so delightful. But, with such moonlight pictures spread around them for their delectation, it seemed a waste of privileges to spend any of these wonderful hours in sleep; and as the moon grew later and later so did the hours of the junior members of the party.

One of the favorite spots which May, for one, was never tired of visiting, either under the idealizing influence of moonlight or in the rich glow of sunset, was a charming little land-locked bay which wound its way for some distance into one of the larger islands in the vicinity. The entrance looked like any other curving recess of the sh.o.r.e, but, once within, it was a surprise to find the bay continuing its course like a tiny river, between banks of high jagged crags, partially draped with nodding birch, s.h.a.ggy hemlock, and spreading oak and maple. And however rough the waves might be outside of this charmed spot, the water within was always calm and gla.s.sy in its stillness. In its innermost recess, where further progress was stayed by the increasing shallowness of its bed, reeds and water-plants grew and cl.u.s.tered, water-lily leaves lay floating as if asleep, and here the little basin was walled in on one side by a sheer, bare granite cliff, concave towards the basin, and evidently worn smooth, in the long past, by the action of grinding ice, though its bareness was relieved, here and there, by a drooping birch or a cl.u.s.ter of s.h.a.ggy ferns. At the top of the wall of scarred, lichen-crusted rock, were some of the curious natural perforations known as "pot-holes,"

apparently formed by the action of a stone revolving in a crevice under glacial action. The opposite bank was more sloping and densely wooded, and the effect in the moonlight, under a rich sunset sky, was peculiarly striking and impressive. This secluded spot was sometimes used by the summer residents of the neighborhood as a natural chapel, where a little congregation a.s.sembled in their boats for a short service, with a shorter address, in circ.u.mstances which might well recall the divinest sermon ever preached; and made Hugh Macnab think of secret services attended by his covenanting ancestors in the secluded Highland glens which hid them from their persecutors. Very different, however, were _these_ happy meetings. The songs of praise seemed to gain a peculiar sweetness from the tranquil quietude of the spot, while the vesper carol of a bird occasionally blended with the human melody. Every part of the service was just as solemn as in any church built with hands, and the very novelty of the surroundings tended to carry some of the "winged words" into hearts which might have heard them unheedingly under ordinary circ.u.mstances.

On the cooler and more breezy afternoons the "b.u.t.terfly sailboat" set out with a merry crew for a more extended voyage, flying hither and thither, as the wind suited and inclination prompted. Or the little steam-yacht was called into service, and a large party would start for a prolonged cruise, winding in and out of the many Channels, as the fancy guided, steering down the broad, breezy reach that lay between the main sh.o.r.e and the cl.u.s.tering islands, with the cool, sparkling waves within touch of their hands, as the little screw turned them up in showers of sparkling diamonds on the azure behind, while one lovely channel after another spread itself before them in fascinating vista.

Now they were pa.s.sing thickly wooded islands, cool with billowy foliage--now a great granite fortress rising from a fringe of foliage, with battlements and barbican, escarpment and b.u.t.tress, festooned with creepers and evergreens, like some h.o.a.ry medieval ruin. Anon, they were gliding through some gla.s.sy strait, with snowy water lilies gleaming amid the dark green floating leaves that lined the sheltered bays. Again their course lay under a line of frowning cliffs, crusted with moss and lichen, and tufted with ferns; and presently another broad channel opened before them, through which they could catch distant glimpses of cl.u.s.tered tents, or summer hotels, or a pleasant country house peeping out from embowering trees. And, ever and anon, they pa.s.sed graceful light varnished skiffs, laden with fishing parties, or canoes paddled swiftly by skillful hands, with a fair maiden reclining luxuriously among her cushions; and to each the little yacht addressed a shrill cheery salutation, responded to by waving handkerchiefs and hats, as each party desired to convey an expression of what a pleasant time they were enjoying, combined with good wishes for the enjoyment of every one else.

As these delightful excursions were apt to be prolonged for some hours, their hospitable hostess, knowing that people are apt to be hungry under such circ.u.mstances, had "afternoon tea" set out on the little table in the stern, and the guests thought that nowhere did coffee and cake seem so delicious, while merry talk and travelers'

tales, and some of Flora's Scotch songs enhanced the enjoyment of the happy hours. Hugh, who had a good tenor voice, would sometimes join his sister in the old-fashioned Jacobite airs which had been familiar to both from childhood, such as "A Wee Bird Came to Our Ha' Door," or "Bonny Charlie's Now Awa'." May thought she had heard few songs so sweet as the refrain "_Will ye no come back again?_" One verse in particular, seemed to catch her and haunt her:

"Sweet the lev'rock's note, and lang, Lilting wildly down the glen, Still to me he sings ae song, _Will ye no come back again?_"

And sometimes their talk would drift to graver subjects, as they returned homewards through lovely vistas of "purple isles of Eden,"

under a sky flushed with the rich glow of sunset, making the calm river burn with crimson and gold, while the rich claret lines of shadow made it seem as if the water were indeed turned into wine, and the peace of the purple twilight gradually faded into the silvery moonlight, and the whole lovely scene seemed hushed into a gentle slumber.

Sometimes, after such an excursion, when a few neighbors had joined their party, at Sumach Lodge, the young folks would beg for a "camp fire," and a pile of brushwood, set ready on the rocks, would be lighted, and the party would sit round it, telling stories and cracking jokes, and singing songs, till the red glare of the fire at length gave way to the still pale moonlight, and at last they reluctantly broke up, scarcely able to tear themselves away from the fascinations of the hour.

A still longer excursion they made one day, in the swift steamer "Island Wanderer," which they took at Gananoque, and which carried them by much the same route for a longer distance, down the turns and twists of the "Lost Channel" to the little hamlet of Rockport; then--crossing swiftly to the quiet shady resort of Westminster Park on Well's Island--carried them around its bold wooded headland to the villa-studded archipelago that teems with island-paradises, turrets, paG.o.das, fairy bridges, till it almost reminds the visitor of a willow pattern plate, and on to the little town of Alexandria Bay, with its monster hotels. Here Kate showed them a spot most interesting to May--the pretty mansion of "Bonniecastle," for years the summer home of Dr. Holland, the first editor of the _Century_ magazine, and author of "Arthur Bonniecastle," after which he named this pleasant home. Kate told them how he had once landed in his steam-yacht at an island on which she had been picnicking at the time, and how charmed she and her friends had been with his genial personality and talk. Then they steamed swiftly through the bewildering succession of castles and cottages of every conceivable variety, which make the American channel here seem like a long water-way or street, lined by suburban villas.

May did not much like the extent to which the islands had been trimmed and smoothed out of the s.h.a.ggy individuality of their primitive state; and Hugh and Flora emphatically agreed with her, in preferring the comparative wildness of the Canadian channel, where the islands still retain their wild sylvan charm.

They scanned with interest the great caravanserai of Thousand Island Park, with its streets and avenues of tents and cottages and crowds of tourists; and then, just as they were leaving the little cl.u.s.ter of country houses at Round Island, a gentleman in a light-gray suit, carrying a valise and overcoat, came briskly on board, speedily recognized by May as Mr. Winthrop, who, coming up to greet the party, declared himself bound for Sumach Lodge. It was curious, May thought, how he seemed to have a faculty for joining them at the most opportune moments, and she wondered much whether he had any private means of tracing the movements of the party. On this occasion, Kate, at all events, took his appearance with a coolness in keeping with the nonchalance of his manner. In fact, Flora declared privately to May that they were both "refreshingly cool for a warm day," a remark which May thought a trifle heartless, considering that this addition to the party must be a "thorn in the flesh" to her brother. However, he betrayed no visible annoyance, but talked very pleasantly with Mr.

Winthrop, all the way home, discussing politics, British and American and Canadian, including the "Behring Sea" difficulty, which last they had not settled, even when they had arrived at Sumach Lodge, and the discussion was finally terminated by the ringing of the tea-bell.

After tea, such of the party as were not tired out by the long day's outing, dispersed in various directions to enjoy the cool air and the moonlight on the river. Mr. Winthrop and Kate had mysteriously disappeared, and so had one of the skiffs. Hugh Macnab, who had become quite expert at managing a canoe, asked his sister and May to let him paddle them both as far as the favorite nook already referred to, and both willingly agreed. But Flora, just at starting, was claimed by one of the boys, who was her special slave, and not liking to disappoint him, she good-naturedly consented to go in _his_ boat instead. Flora and her cavalier followed in the wake of some of the other young people, and her fresh Scotch voice was soon heard warbling her favorite refrain:--

"And carry the lad that was born to be king the hills to Skye!"

"That sounds out of place _here_, somehow," said Hugh. "This new world has nothing to do with our old Jacobite struggles. It ought to be one of those pretty French Canadian airs, at least." And he hummed "_La Claire Fontaine_," which had greatly taken his fancy, with its pretty chorus,--

"_Il y'a longtemps que je t'aime_ _Jamais je ne t'oublierai._"