aiden. They had got into the dark
upper end of the town overhung by the avenue trees, the lands were
spotted with the lemon lights of the evening candles, choruses came from
the New Inns where fishermen from Cowal met to spend a shilling or
two in the illusion of joy. Mr. Spencer saw them as he passed and was
suffused by a kindly glow of uncommon romance. He saw, as he thought, a
pair made for each other because they were of an age and of a size (as
if that meant much); what should they be but lovers coming from the
gardens of Duke George in such a night and the very heavens twinkling
with the courtship of the stars? He looked and sighed. Far off in the
south was an old tale of his own; the lady upstairs eternally whining
because she must be banished to the wilds away from her roaring native
city was not in it. "Lucky lad!" said he to himself. "He is not so shy
as we thought him." They came for a moment under the influence of the
swinging lamp above his door, then passed into the dusk. He went into
his public room, and "Mary," he cried to a maid, "a little drop of the
French for Sergeant Cameron and me. You will allow me, Sergeant? I feel
a little need of an evening brace." And he drank, for the sake of bygone
dusks, with his customer.

Nan and Gilian now walked on the pavement, a discreet distance apart.
She stopped at the mantua-makers door. He lingered on the parting, eager
to prolong it. The street was deserted; from the Sergeant More's came
the sound of song; some fallen leaves ran crisp along the stones, blown
by an air of wind. He had her by the hand, still loath to leave, when
suddenly the door of the mantua-maker's opened and out came a little
woman, who, plunging from the splendour of two penny dips into the outer
mirk, ran into his arms before she noticed his presence. She drew back
with an apology uttered in Gaelic in her hurried perturbation. It was
Miss Mary.

"Auntie," he said, no more.

She glanced at his companion and started as if in fear, shivered, put
out a hand and bade her welcome home.

"Dear me! Miss Nan," said she, "amn't I proud to see you back? What
a tall lady you have grown, and so like--so like----" She stopped
embarrassed.

Her hand had gone with an excess of kindness upon the girl's arm ere she
remembered all that lay between them and the heyday of another Nan than
this. Of Gilian she seemed to take no notice, which much surprised him
with a sense of something wanting.

At last th