'A few gloves are not worth mentioning,' replied Colville, hurriedly. And then he added--'How beautiful is the view all round this place, especially that with the silver birches and the stream glittering under their shadow. Ere I leave this, Miss Wellwood, you must show me some of your favourite places, your pet nooks--the scenery here is so full of picturesque spots.' 'Ellinor knows all such places hereabout better than I do. They employ her pencil freely,' said Mary, diffidently; 'and they are the very abode of old legends, fairies, and so forth.' 'I know that she is an artist possessed of both taste and skill,' said Colville; 'but is she also the musician?' he asked, turning to the piano, which was open. 'I am chiefly,' replied Mary, smiling; 'but I think you should hear Ellinor sing the "Birks of Invermay."' 'Who--or what are they?' asked Sir Redmond, with a drawl. 'Those very birches you see from the window,' replied Mary, laughing. 'And there is a song about them?' 'There are several.' 'Do let us hear at least one, Miss Ellinor,' urged Sir Redmond, as he placed the piano stool before the instrument. Accordingly Ellinor, without further preface or pressing, seated herself, and sang with great sweetness and pathos neither David Mallet's affected stanzas nor Bryce's ludicrous lines, but the simple old song of the sixteenth century to its wonderfully beautiful air:-- 'The evening sun was glinting bright On Invermay's sweet glen and stream; The woods and rocks in ruddy light Appeared as in a fairy dream. In loving fear I took my path To seek the tryst that happy day, With bonnie Mary, young and fair, Among the Birks of Invermay. 'It wasna till the pale moonshine Was glancing deep in Mary's e'e, That with a smile she said, "I'm thine, And ever true to thee will be!" One kiss--the lover's pledge--and then We spoke of all that lovers say, And wandered hameward through the glen, Among the Birks of Invermay.'