this fierce Jacobite passion that thrilled him to the very finger-tips?

"I'll to Lochiel, and Appin, and kneel to them,
Down by Lord Murray and Roy of Kildarlie:
Brave Mackintosh, he shall fly to the field with them;
These are the lads I can trust wi' my Charlie!"

Could any man fail to answer? Could any man die otherwise than gladly if
he died with such an appeal ringing in his ears? Macleod did not know
there was scarcely any more volume in this girl's voice now than when
she was singing the plaintive wail that preceded it: it seemed to him
that there was the strength of the tread of armies in it, and a
challenge that could rouse a nation.

"Down through the Lowlands, down wi' the Whigamore,
Loyal true Highlanders, down wi' them rarely!
Ronald and Donald, drive on wi' the broad claymore
Over the neck o' the foes o' Prince Charlie!
Follow thee! follow thee! wha wadna follow thee,
King o' the Highland hearts, bonnie Prince Charlie!"

She shut the book, with a light laugh, and left the piano. She came over
to where Macleod sat. When he saw that she meant to speak to him, he
rose and stood before her.

"I must ask your pardon," said she, smiling, "for singing two Scotch
songs, for I know the pronunciation is very difficult."

He answered with no idle compliment.