The minstrel turned his head, and their eyes met, and, in meeting, lingered long. Then he moved away, and with face turned from her and towards the river, gave the melody of his wondrous voice to the following lines:-- LOVE'S QUARREL. "Standing by the river, gazing on the river, See it paved with starbeams,--heaven is at our feet; Now the wave is troubled, now the rushes quiver; Vanished is the starlight: it was a deceit. "Comes a little cloudlet 'twixt ourselves and heaven, And from all the river fades the silver track; Put thine arms around me, whisper low, 'Forgiven!' See how on the river starlight settles back." When he had finished, still with face turned aside, the lady did not, indeed, whisper "Forgiven," nor put her arms around him; but, as if by irresistible impulse, she laid her hand lightly on his shoulder. The minstrel started. There came to his ear,--he knew not from whence, from whom,-- "Mischief! mischief! Remember the little child!" "Hush!" he said, staring round. "Did you not hear a voice?" "Only yours," said the lady. "It was our guardian angel's, Amalie. It came in time. We will go within." CHAPTER XII. THE next morning betimes Kenelm visited Tom at his uncle's home. A comfortable and respectable home it was, like that of an owner in easy circumstances. The veterinary surgeon himself was intelligent, and apparently educated beyond the range of his calling; a childless widower, between sixty and seventy, living with a sister, an old maid. They were evidently much attached to Tom, and delighted by the hope of keeping him with them. Tom himself looked rather sad, but not sullen, and his face brightened wonderfully at first sight of Kenelm. That oddity made himself as pleasant and as much like other people as he could in conversing with the old widower and the old maid, and took leave, engaging Tom to be at his inn at half past twelve, and spend the day with him and the minstrel. He then returned to the Golden Lamb, and waited there for his first visitant; the minstrel. That votary of the muse arrived punctually at twelve o'clock. His countenance was less cheerful and sunny than usual. Kenelm made no allusion to the scene he had witnessed, nor did his visitor seem to suspect that Kenelm had witnessed it or been the utterer of that warning voice. KENELM.--"I have asked my friend Tom Bowles to come a little later, because I wished you to be of use to him, and, in order to be so, I should suggest how." THE MINSTREL.--"Pray do." KENELM.--"You know that I am not a poet, and I do not have much reverence for verse-making merely as a craft." THE MINSTREL.--"Neither have I."