The three days of storm ended in the night, and with the wild weather there departed from the Cruives something which had weighed on Dickson's spirits since he first saw the place. Monday—only a week from the morning when he had conceived his plan of holiday—saw the return of the sun and the bland¹ airs of spring. Beyond the blue of the yet restless waters rose dim mountains tipped with snow, like some Mediterranean² seascape. Nesting birds were busy on the Laver banks and in the Huntingtower thickets³; the village smoked peacefully to the clear skies; even the House looked cheerful if dishevelled. The Garple Dean was a garden of swaying larches⁵, linnets, and wild anemones⁶. Assuredly, thought Dickson, there had come a mighty⁷ change in the countryside, and he meditated⁸ a future discourse⁹ to the Literary Society of the Guthrie Memorial Kirk on "Natural Beauty in Relation to the Mind of Man."

 

It remains¹⁰ for the chronicler to gather up the loose ends of his tale. There was no newspaper story with bold headlines of this the most recent assault on the shores of Britain. Alexis Nicolaevitch, once a Prince of Muscovy and now Mr. Alex[Pg 307]ander Nicholson of the rising firm of Sprot and Nicholson of Melbourne, had interest enough to prevent it. For it was clear that if Saskia was to be saved from persecution¹¹, her enemies must disappear without trace from the world, and no story be told of the wild venture which was their

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