"In justice to my own side of the bargain, Allan, you must travel and compare other women with this Fife girl. You must not only be where you can not see her, but also, where you can see many others. I think American women will be a fair test of your affection. Between Boston and New Orleans their variety is infinite. Gillbride says, they are the blood, and beauty, and intellect of all races potently mingled. Mary has a right to be considered; she is evidently embarrassed by your presence; the least you can do for her now, is to relieve her from it. Next spring there will be an opportunity to re-consider matters, if you desire. Money has accumulated belonging to Drumloch, and Mary has decided to expend it on the house. A new wing is to be built, and she will go to reside there. The work will get on better, and the tenants look with justice to the advantages of an open house again. But there is no more to be said at this time. Come, Allan, let us go to the drawing-room, I hear Mary playing a song I never can resist, no nor any other person, I think--" and he began to hum "_O Love will venture in_." "Isn't it a wonderful combination of thirds and sevenths? There is nothing like it in the whole portfolio of music. Nothing so winning, nothing that can so charm and haunt your ear-chambers." And they stepped softly and slowly, and stood at the door together, to listen to the enchaining plaintive little song: [Musical notation omitted.] O love will venture in where it daurna weel be seen, O love will venture in where wisdom once has been; But I will down the river rove amang the woods so green, And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May. The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year, And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear: For she's the pink o' womankind and blooms without a peer: And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll pu' the budding rose when Phoebus peeps in view, For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou' The hyacinth's for constancy, wi' its unchanging blue And a' to be a posie for my ain dear May The lily it is pure and the lily it is fair, And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there, The daisy's for simplicity of unaffected air; And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is near And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her e'en sae clear; The violet's for modesty, which weel she fa's to wear And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band of love, And I'll place it on her breast, and I'll swear by a' above. That to the latest breath o' life the band shall ne'er remove. And this will be a posie to my ain dear May. The last long drawn notes of melancholy sweetness were scarcely still, when a servant entered. "The minister is here, sir." "I had forgotten," said Campbell hastily. "There is an extra kirk session to-night. It is about the organ, Mary. Will you go?"