of her last speech (which besides she had followed up immediately with a
very noisy piece of music) was to put an end to the present
conversation. I stood beside her, affecting to listen and admire, but
truly whirled away by my own thoughts. I have always found this young
lady to be a lover of the mysterious; and certainly this first interview
made a mystery that was beyond my plummet. One thing I learned long
after, the hours of the Sunday had been well employed, the bank porter
had been found and examined, my visit to Charles Stewart was discovered,
and the deduction made that I was pretty deep with James and Alan, and
most likely in a continued correspondence with the last. Hence this
broad hint that was given me across the harpsichord.

In the midst of the piece of music, one of the younger misses, who was
at a window over the close, cried on her sisters to come quick, for
there was "_Grey eyes_ again." The whole family trooped there at once,
and crowded one another for a look. The window whither they ran was in
an odd corner of that room, gave above the entrance door, and flanked up
the close.

"Come, Mr. Balfour," they cried, "come and see. She is the most
beautiful creature! She hangs round the close-head these last days,
always with some wretched-like gillies, and yet seems quite a lady."

I had no need to look; neither did I look twice, or long. I was afraid
she might have seen me there, looking down upon her from that chamber of
music, and she without, and her father in the same house, perhaps
begging for his life with tears, and myself come but newly from
rejecting his petitions. But even that glance set me in a better conceit
of myself, and much less awe of the young ladies. They were beautiful,
that was beyond question, but Catriona was beautiful too, and had a kind