as seated near a small table, and Mrs.
Lorraine was showing her something. She was just like anybody else. If
she was a wonderful sea-princess who had come into a new world, no one
seemed to observe her. The only thing that distinguished her from
the women around her was her freshness of color and the unusual
combination of black eyelashes and dark blue eyes. Lavender had
arranged that Sheila's first appearance in public should be at a very
quiet little dinner-party, but even here she failed to create any
profound impression. She was, as he had to confess to himself again,
just like anybody else.

He went over to where Mrs. Lorraine was, and sat down beside her.
Sheila, remembering his injunctions, felt bound to leave him there;
and as she rose to speak to Mrs. Kavanagh, who was standing by,
that lady came and begged her to sing a Highland song. By this time
Lavender had succeeded in interesting his companion about something or
other, and neither of them noticed that Sheila had gone to the piano,
attended by the young politician who had taken her in to dinner. Nor
did they interrupt their talk merely because some one played a few
bars of prelude. But what was this that suddenly startled Lavender to
the heart, causing him to look up with surprise? He had not heard the
air since he was in Borva, and when Sheila sang

Hark, hark! the horn
On mountain-breezes borne!
Awake, it is morn,
Awake, Monaltrie!--

all sorts of reminiscences came rushing in upon him. How often had
he heard that wild story of Monaltrie's flight sung out in the small
chamber over the sea, with a sound of the waves outside and a scent of
sea-weed coming in at the door and the windows! It was from the shores
of Borva that young Monaltrie must have fled. It must have been in
Borva that his sweetheart sat in her bower and sang, the burden of all
her singing being "Return, Monaltrie!" And then, as Sheila sang now,
making the monotonous and plaintive air wild and strange--

What cries of wild despair
Awake the sultry air?
Frenzied with anxious care,
She seeks Monaltrie--

he heard no more of the song. He was thinking of bygone days in Borva,
and of old Mackenzie living in his lonely house there. When Sheila had
finished singing he looked at her, and it seemed to him that she was
still that wonderful princess whom he had wooed on the shores of the
Atlantic. And if those people did not see her as he saw her, ought he
to be dis