Mr. Stewart, a young man with red hair and complexion, in kilts and
pink knees, emerged from the curtains, and sang in a thundering voice
several of Burns's tenderest songs. After their final retirement the
curtains were drawn apart with much dignity, and Lady Mary stepped
forth; a vision, as her severest critics were forced to admit. She was
in diaphanous white, with frosted flowers amidst her golden ringlets,
a little crown of stars above her brow, and a scarf of silver tissue.

"All she needs is wings!" exclaimed Miss Ogilvy, and added to herself,
"may she soon get them!"

Lady Mary, acknowledging the rapturous greeting with a seraphic
expression and the grand air, literally floated to the harp,
where nothing could have displayed to a greater advantage her long
willowy figure, her long white thin arms, the drooping gold of her
ringlets. As the golden music tinkled from the tips of her taper
fingers--formed for the harp, which may have had somewhat to do with
her choice of instrument--her ethereal loveliness swayed in unison,
and, one might fancy--if not a rival--emitted a music of its own.

"She doesn't look a day over twenty!" exclaimed Miss Ogilvy. "Who
would dream that she was thirty? But those fragile creatures break all
at once. When she does fade she will be even more _passee_ than most."

"But women know so many arts nowadays," said Anne drily. "And she
would be the last to ignore them."

"Ah! no doubt she will hang on till she gets a husband. I never knew
anyone to want one so badly."

"Lady Mary?" asked Hunsdon wonderingly. "I had long since grown to
look upon her as a confirmed old maid."

"La! La! my lord!" Miss Ogilvy suddenly resolved upon a bold stroke.
"She's trying with all her might and main to marry your own most
intimate friend."

"My most intimate friend? He is in England. Nottingdale. Do you know
him? Or do you perchance mean Warner?"

"Never heard of the first and it certainly is not the last. Oh, my
lord!" And then she laughed so archly that poor Lord Hunsdon could not
fail to read her meaning. His fresh coloured face, warm with ascending
heat, turned a deep brick red. He felt offended with both Miss Ogilvy
and Lady Mary, and edged closer to Anne as if for protection.

This conversation took place while Lady Mary was bowing in response
to the plaudits her performance evoked. She tinkled out another
selection, and then, with a gently dissenting gesture, the dreaming
eyes almost som