"Let me have my way, my dear,"--he implored her--"I may never see another New Year!" "Nonsense, David!" she said cheerily--"You will see many and many a one, please God!" "Please God, I shall!" he answered, quietly--"But if it should not please God--then--" "There!--you want to stay up, and you shall stay up!" she declared, smiling--"After all, as Mr. Reay is with us, the time won't perhaps seem so long for you." "But for you,"--put in Angus--"it will seem very long won't it!" "Oh, I always sit up for the coming-in of the New Year,"--she replied--"Father used to do it, and I like to keep up all father's ways. Only I thought David might feel too tired. You must sing to us, Mr. Reay, to pass the hours away." "And so must you!" he replied. And she did sing that night as she had never sung to them before, with a fuller voice and more passion than she had hitherto shown,--one little wild ballad in particular taking Reay's fancy so much that he asked her to sing it more than once. The song contained just three six-line stanzas, having little merit save in their suggestiveness. Oh love, my love! I have giv'n you my heart Like a rose full-blown, With crimson petals trembling apart-- It is all your own-- What will you do with it. Dearest,--say? Keep it for ever or throw it away? Oh love, my love! I have giv'n you my life, Like a ring of gold; Symbol of peace in a world of strife, To have and to hold. What will you do with it, Dearest,--say? Treasure it always, or throw it away? Oh love, my love! Have all your will-- I am yours to the end; Be false or faithful--comfort or kill, Be lover or friend,-- Where gifts are given they must remain, I never shall ask for them back again! "Do you know that you have a very beautiful voice, Miss Mary?" said Angus, after hearing this for the second time. "Oh, I don't think so at all,"--she answered, quickly; "Father used to like to hear me sing--but I can only just give ballads their meaning, and pronounce the words carefully so the people may know what I am trying to sing about. I've no real voice." "You have!" And Angus turned to Helmsley for his opinion--"Hasn't she, David?" "Her voice is the sweetest _I_ ever heard,"--replied Helmsley--"But then I'm not much of a judge."