was thrilling under the hurrying pulses of her little
heart.... And presently found herself on the piano bench, quite
motionless, her gaze remote, her fingers resting on the keys.... And,
after a long while, she heard an old air stealing through the
silence, and her own voice,--_a demi-voix_--repeating her mother's
words:

I

"Were they as wise as they are blue--
My eyes--
They'd teach me not to trust in you!--
If they were wise as they are blue.

But they're as blithe as they are blue--
My eyes--
They bid my heart rejoice in you,
Because they're blithe as well as blue.

Believe and love! my gay heart cries;
Believe him not! my mind replies;
What shall I do
When heart affirms and sense denies
All I reveal within my eyes
To you?

II

"If they were black instead of blue--
My eyes--
Perhaps they'd prove unkind to you!
If they were black instead of blue.

But God designed them blithe and blue--
My eyes--
Designed them to be kind to you,
And made them tender, gay and true.

Believe me, love, no maid is wise
When from the windows of her eyes,
Her heart looks through!
Alas! My heart, to its surprise,
Has learned to look; and now it sighs
For you!"

She became conscious of somebody near, as she ended. She turned and
saw Murtagh Skeel at her elbow--saw his agitated, ashen face--looked
beyond him and discovered other people gathered in the tinted light
beyond, listening; then she lifted her clear, still gaze again to the
white-faced man beside her, and saw his shaken soul staring at her
through the dark windows of _his_ eyes.

"Where did you learn it?" he asked with a futile effort at that
control so difficult for any Celt to grasp where the heart is
involved.

"The song I sang? 'Blue Eyes'?" she inquired.

"Yes--that."

"I have the manuscript of the composer."

"Could you tell me where you got it--and--and who wrote those words
you sang?"

"The manuscript came to me from my mother.... She wrote it.... I think
you knew her."

His strong, handsome hand dropped on the piano's edge, gripped it; and
under his pale skin the quick blood surged to his temples.

"What was your--your mother's name, Miss Soane?"

"She was Eileen Fane."

The throbbing seconds passed and still they looked into each other's
eyes in silence. And