"Because Lilie's e'en are the very same--only they're no sae woeful--and I kent the lady would be some friend, but Mrs. Melder said it couldna be her mother." Anne's heart swelled full. Could this little child be as near of kindred to herself as to Christian Lillie? Her mind was overflowing with this. She forgot that Jacky lingered. "And, if ye please, Miss Anne--" Anne again turned round to listen. "She was looking away ower the water, and leaning on the hedge--maybe she lives yonder--and Miss Anne--" "What is it, Jacky?" Jacky drew near and spoke very low: "Do you mind the sang, Miss Anne, that Miss Alice sang on the New-year's night, when Mr. Archibald came home to the Tower?" Anne started. "The lady was saying it to hersel very low--the way Lilie sings her strange music." "What did she say, Jacky?" "If ye please, Miss Anne, it was a short verse--it was about seeing the stars rise upon the Oran. I can say't a'." And Jacky hung back, and blushed and hesitated. The connexion became clearer by every word. "The student lad" who wrote this ballad--could it be Patrick Lillie? "Was it last night you heard this, Jacky?" "No, Miss Anne, it was this morning very early. I wanted to see the sea," said Jacky, bashfully, "and I saw the sun rise. But I think the lady wasna heeding for the sea. She wasna there at a'. She was in her ain spirit." "And you are sure you are not mistaken, Jacky?" said Anne. "Miss Anne!" exclaimed Jacky, "ye would ken yourself, if you saw her. Its just Lilie's e'en--only they are far, far deeper and sadder, and aye searching and travelling, as if something was lost that they bid to find, and were seeking for night and day." "That they bid to find!" The words roused Anne. "Did you mention this to any one?" she asked. Jacky looked injured--an imputation on her honor she could not bear. "I never tell things, Miss Anne. I'm no a talepyet." "Well, Jacky, remember that I trust you. I have heard that this lady has had great sorrow; and she has some good reason, no doubt, for not keeping Lilie beside her. Mind, you must never mention this to any one--not to Bessie--not even to your mother, when we return. No one knows it, but you and me. I am sure I can trust you, Jacky." Jacky gave a faithful promise, and went away with secret and proud dignity. She also had entered upon the search--she had begun to co-operate with Anne. CHAPTER XXIII.