"It is no use trying to dance a reel without Hadria," said a tall youth, evidently her brother, if one might judge from his almost southern colouring and melancholy eyes. In build and feature he resembled the elder sister, Algitha, who had all the characteristics of a fine northern race. "Old Maggie said the other day, that Hadria's dancing of the reel was no 'right canny,'" Algitha observed, in the same low tone that all the occupants of the garret instinctively adopted. "Ah!" cried Fred, "old Maggie has always looked upon Hadria as half bewitched since that night when she found her here 'a wee bit bairn,' as she says, at this very window, in her nightshirt, standing on tiptoe to see the moonlight." "It frightened the poor old thing out of her wits, of course," said Algitha, who was leaning with crossed arms, in a corner of the deep-set window. The fine outlines of face and form were shewn in the strange light, as in a boldly-executed sketch, without detail. Pride and determination were the dominant qualities so indicated. Her sister stood opposite, the moonshine making the smooth pallor of her face more striking, and emphasizing its mysterious quality. The whole group of young faces, crowded together by the window, and lit up by the unsympathetic light, had something characteristic and unusual in its aspect, that might have excited curiosity. "Tell us the story of the garret, Hadria," said Austin, the youngest brother, a handsome boy of twelve, with curling brown hair and blue eyes. "Hadria has told it hundreds of times, and you know it as well as she does." "But I want to hear it again--about the attack upon the keep, and the shouting of the men, while the lady was up here starving to death." But Algitha shook her head. "We don't come up here to tell stories, we must get to business." "Will you have the candle, or can you see?" asked Fred, the second brother, a couple of years younger than Hadria, whom he addressed. His features were irregular; his short nose and twinkling grey eyes suggesting a joyous and whimsical temperament. "I think I had better have the candle; my notes are very illegible." Fred drew forth a candle-end from his pocket, stuck it into a quaint-looking stand of antique steel, much eaten with rust, and set the candle-end alight. Algitha went into the next room and brought in a couple of chairs. Fred followed her example till there were enough for the party. They all took their places, and Hadria, who had been provided with a seat facing them, and with a rickety wooden table that trembled responsively to her slightest movement, laid down her notes and surveyed her audience. The faces stood out strangely, in the lights and shadows of the garret.