From that point, however, Sheila and her companion wandered away into fields of melody whither the King of Borva could not follow them; so he was content to resume his pipe and listen placidly to the pretty airs. He caught but bits and fragments of phrases and sentiments, but they evidently were comfortable, merry, good-natured songs for the young folks to sing. There was a good deal of love-making, and rosy morns appearing, and merry zephyrs, and such odd things, which, sung briskly and gladly by two young and fresh voices, rather drew the hearts of contemplative listeners to the musicians. “They sing very well, whatever,” said Mackenzie with a critical air to Ingram, when the young people were so busily engaged with their own affairs as apparently to forget the presence of the others. “Oh yes, they sing very well whatever; and what should the young folks sing about but making love and courting, and all that?” “Natural enough,” said Ingram, looking rather wistfully at the two at the other end of the room. “I suppose Sheila will have a sweetheart some day?” “Oh, yes, Sheila will hef a sweetheart some day,” said her father, good-humoredly. “Sheila is a good-looking girl; she will hef a sweetheart some day.” “She will be marrying, too, I suppose,” said Ingram cautiously. “Oh, yes, she will marry--Sheila will marry; what will be the life of a young girl if she does not marry?” At this moment, as Ingram afterward described it, a sort of “flash of inspiration” darted in upon him, and he resolved there and then to brave the wrath of the old king, and place all the conspiracy before him, if only the music kept loud enough to prevent his being overheard. “It will be hard on you to part with Sheila when she marries,” said Ingram, scarcely daring to look up. “Oh, ay, it will be that,” said Mackenzie, cheerfully enough. “But it iss every one will hef to do that, and no great harm comes of it. Oh, no, it will not be much whatever; and Sheila, she will be very glad in a little while after, and it will be enough for me to see that she is ferry contented and happy. The young folk must marry, you will see; and what is the use of marrying if it is not when they are young? But Sheila, she will think of none of these things. It was young Mr. MacIntyre of Sutherland--you hef seen him last year in Stornoway; he has three thousand acres of a deer forest in Sutherland--and he will be ferry glad to marry my Sheila. But I will say to him, ‘It is not for me to say yes or no to you, Mr. MacIntyre: it is Sheila herself will tell you that.’ But he was afraid to speak to her; and Sheila herself will know nothing of why he came twice to Borva the last year.” “It is very good of you to leave Sheila quite unbiased in her choice,” said Ingram: “many fathers would have been sorely tempted by that deer forest.” Old Mackenzie laughed a loud laugh of derision that fortunately did not stop Lavender’s execution of “I would that my love would silently.”