The doctor was mending his yacht-sail, and whistling a song of the sea.
The man sprang towards him, kneeled on the sands, and grasped the grey old yachtsman's knees, took his disengaged hand, and kissed it.
"I have come," said a deep, almost sepulchral voice, "to crave your forgiveness. I could not die till I had done so."
"Elms, my man!" gasped the doctor, "God bless you for that word! I have often grieved for you, knowing you were tempted and misled. Now my cup of joy is full."
The "right-hand man," in his right mind now, restored by suffering, took his place beside his patron, and served him with devotion and veneration until he died.
Only old Alec, who had secured permission to join the doctor after Jinnie's death, demurred. He was jealous, but only for a moment.
So, midst books and notes, palm-groves and coral walks, the "good grey" hair of the three, "old salts" long floated in the breeze that gently fanned the shores of their beauteous Fairy Isle.
THE END.
