enough of this fooling," he said. "The day is advancing,
madam," turning to Betty. "Will you vouchsafe me the extreme pleasure of
being your escort home?"

As Betty was about to answer, she was arrested by the sound of singing
outside, in a voice so wild, loud, and sweet, it seemed the very
embodiment of the music of Nature.

"Who is singing like that?" asked Betty. "How beautiful! and how
marvellously sad."

"It is Nora Ray, only our Nora, dear heart. Her voice is sweet as the
lark, and she sings old songs she gathers in the villages round."

"Hush, hush, listen!" cried Betty, and she stood with upraised hand
listening.

The air was in the minor key, the voice of the singer thrilled to the
very nerves, every word came distinctly to their ears.

"Aye, Margaret loved the fair gentleman,
Aye, well and well-a-day,
And the winter clouds gather wild and fast;
He loved, and he galloped away.

Aye, call him! call him over the lea,
Thou sad forsaken lass,
Never more he'll come back to thee
Over the wild green grass.

The swallows return from over the sea,
Aye, well and well-a-day;
But lover will never come back to thee
Who loves and gallops away.

Aye, call him! call him over the sea,
The winter is coming fast;
He waved his hat, he bowed full low
And smiled as he galloped past.

Aye, call him! call him over the lea,
Aye, well and well-a-day;
Lover will never come back to thee
Who loves and gallops away."

A strange shiver came over Betty Ives, a thrill such as she had never
experienced before. She glanced at Dame Rachel. The old woman was
nervously fingering the cards, and muttering to herself. Then her
frightened eyes turned to her lover; he read some appeal in them.

He held out his hand, and caught hers and pressed it for one short
second to his lips.

The door burst open, and the girl who had been singing came in; her
black hair was all blown back, the great black eyes staring out of the
small dark face. She drew her scanty cloak round her and laughed a
shrill laugh.

"Will you have your fortunes told, my good gentleman? my pretty lady?"
she cried. "Cross little Nora's palm with a silver sixpence then."

"No, no, we have had enough of that. Come, dear madam, we must be
going," said Johnstone, and he conducted Betty to the place where
Reuben, faithful to his trust, held the rein of her horse.

"Do no