"Indeed," said Miss Jean, her eyes lighting up with interest. "That is out of the way for a young man. You will excuse me, but I take a great interest--not father or mother, as you say a friend?" "No: my godfather, who took me up when my father and mother died, and who was like father and mother in one. He was lonely and old, and I never left him--for years." As Lewis spoke there came a gleam of moisture into his eyes, as he looked smiling into the face of the sympathetic woman, who had she but known--But no suspicion crossed the mind of Miss Jean. "Dear me!" she said; "lonely and old are sad words. And you gave up your young life to him? There are few that would have done that." "Oh, no, there was no giving-up, it was my happiness," said Lewis; "no one was ever so kind; he was my dear companion. And then, you know, abroad"--he smiled as he said this generic word which answered for everywhere--"abroad boys are not all brought up to be athletic; to defy the elements, as in England--" "I do not know very much about England," said Miss Jean, entirely unconscious that her visitor meant to embrace Tayside in this geographical term, "but there is too much fishing and shooting here. That is my opinion. I like a young man to be manly, but there are more things in the world than the trout and the birds. And no doubt you would learn your music to please your invalid? That is very touching. I took an interest from the first, but still more now when I know the cause." "That reminds me," cried Lewis, "that my sole excuse for coming was to play to you." "Don't say that, Mr. Murray. We are very glad to see you," said Miss Jean, though not without a quiver, "without any reason at all." "That is very kind, more kind than I can say. A stranger has double reason to be grateful." "The advantage is ours," said Miss Jean, with old-fashioned politeness; and then there was a momentary pause; for the question would obtrude itself upon her, in spite of herself, "What will Margaret say?"