, Elleen, begin. What gars thee loiter in that doited way?'
insisted Jean. 'Come, "Up atween."'

And, led by her sister in spite of herself, almost, as it were, without
volition, Eleanor's sweet pathetic voice sang--

'Up atween yon twa hill-sides, lass,
Where I and my true love wont to be,
A' the warld shall never ken, lass,
What my true love said to me.

'Owre muckle blinking blindeth the ee, lass,
Owre muckle thinking changeth the mind,
Sair is the life I've led for thee, lass,
Farewell warld, for it's a' at an end.'

Her voice had been giving way through the last verse, and in the final
line, with a helpless wail of the harp, she hid her face, and sank back
with a strange choked agony.

'Why, Elleen! Elleen, how now?' cried Jean. 'Cousin Lilias, come!'

Lady Drummond was already at her side, and the Duchess and Lady
Salisbury proffering essences and cordials, the gentlemen offering
support; but in a moment or two Eleanor recovered enough to cling to
Lady Drummond, muttering--

'Oh, take me awa', take me awa'!'

And hushing the scolding which Jean was commencing by way of bracing,
and rejecting all the kind offers of service, Dame Lilias led the girl
away, leaving Jean to make excuses and explanations about her sister
being but 'silly' since they had lost their mother, and the tune minding
her of home and of her father.

When, with only Annis following, the chambers had been reached, Eleanor
let herself sink on a cushion, hiding her face against her friend, and
sobbing hysterically--

'Oh, take me awa', take me awa'! It's all blood and horror!'

'My bairnie, my dearie! You are over-weary--'tis but a dreamy fancy.
Look up! All is safe; none can harm you here.'

With soothings, and with some of the wine on the table, Lady Drummond
succeeded in calming the girl, and, with Annis's assistance, she
undressed her and placed her in the bed.

'Oh, do not gang! Leave me not,' she entreated. And as the lady sat by
her, holding her hand, she spoke, 'It was all dim before me as the music
played, and--'

'Thou wast sair forefaughten, dearie.'

Eleanor went on--

'And then as I touched mine harp, all, all seemed to swim in a mist of
blood and horror. There was the old Earl and the young bridegroom, and
many and many more of them, with gaping wounds and deathly faces--all
but the young King of the Isle of Wight and his shroud, his shroud,
Cousin Lily, it was