same tint as the hair. Even the sea-breeze
failed to give more than a slight touch of colour to her somewhat
freckled complexion; and the limbs that rested in a careless attitude on
the stone bench were long and languid, though with years and favourable
circumstances there might be a development of beauty and dignity. Her
lips were crooning at intervals a mournful old Scottish tune, sometimes
only humming, sometimes uttering its melancholy burthen, and she now and
then touched a small harp that stood by her side on the seat.

She did not turn round when a step approached, till a hand was laid on
her shoulder, when she started, and looked up into the face of another
girl, on a smaller scale, with a complexion of the lily-and-rose kind,
fair hair under her hood, with a hawk upon her wrist, and blue eyes
dancing at the surprise of her sister.

'Eleanor in a creel, as usual!' she cried.

'I thought it was only one of the bairns,' was the answer.

'They might coup over the walls for aught thou seest,' returned the
new-comer. 'If it were not for little Mary what would become of the poor
weans?'

'What will become of any of us?' said Eleanor. 'I was gazing out over
the sea and wishing we could drift away upon it to some land of rest.'

'The Glenuskie folk are going to try another land,' said Jean. 'I was
in the bailey-court even now playing at ball with Jamie when in comes a
lay-brother, with a letter from Sir Patrick to say that he is coming
the night to crave permission from Jamie to go with his wife to France.
Annis, as you know, is betrothed to the son of his French friends,
Malcolm is to study at the Paris University, and Davie to be in the
Scottish Guards to learn chivalry like his father. And the Leddy of
Glenuskie--our Cousin Lilian--is going with them.'

'And she will see Margaret,' said Eleanor. 'Meg the dearie! Dost
remember Meg, Jeanie?'

'Well, well do I remember her, and how she used to let us nestle in her
lap and sing to us. She sang like thee, Elleen, and was as mother-like
as Mary is to the weans, but she was much blithesomer--at least before
our father was slain.'

'Sweetest Meg! My whole heart leaps after her,' cried Eleanor, with a
fervent gesture.

'I loved her better than Isabel, though she was not so bonnie,' said
Jean.

'Jeanie, Jeanie,' cried Eleanor, turning round with a vehemence
strangely contrasting with her previous language, 'wherefore should we
not go with Glenuskie to be with Meg