n of a Highland girl for a fair-haired lover beyond the sea?
First of all she sang the "Wail of Dunevegan," and how strangely her
voice thrilled with the sadness of the song!--

Morn, oh mantle thy smiles of gladness!
Night, oh come with thy clouds of sadness!
Earth, thy pleasures to me seem madness!
Macleod, my leal love, since thou art gone.
Dunevegan, oh! Dunevegan, oh!
Dunevegan! Dunevegan!

It was as in a dream that he heard Ingram talking in a matter-of-fact
way about the various airs, and asking the meaning of certain lines of
Gaelic to compare them with the stiff and old-fashioned phrases of the
translation. Surely this girl must have sat by the shore and waited
for her absent lover, or how could she sing with such feeling?--

Say, my love, why didst thou tarry
Far over the deep sea?
Knew'st thou not my heart was weary,
Heard'st thou not how I sighed for thee!
Did no light wind bear my wild despair
Far over the deep sea?

He could imagine that beautiful face grown pale and wild with anguish.
And then some day, as she went along the lonely island, with all the
light of hope gone out of her eyes, and with no more wistful glances
cast across the desolate sea, might not the fair-haired lover come
at last, and leap ashore to clasp her in his arms, and hide the
wonder-stricken eyes and the glad face in his bosom? But Sheila sang
of no such meeting. The girl was always alone, her lover gone away
from her across the sea or into the wilds.

Oh long on the mountain he tarries, he tarries:
Why tarries the youth with the bright yellow hair:
Oh long on the mountain he tarries, he tarries:
Why seeks he the hill when his flock is not there?

That was what he heard her sing, until it seemed to him that her
singing was a cry to be taken away from these melancholy surroundings
of sea and shore, and carried to the secure and comfortable South,
to be cherished and tended and loved. Why should this girl be left
to live a cruel life up in these wilds, and to go through the world
without knowing anything of the happy existence that might have been
hers? It was well for harder and stronger natures to withstand the
buffetings of wind and rain, and to be indifferent to the melancholy
influences of the lonely sea and the darkness of the northern
winters; but for her--for this beautiful, sensitive, tender-hearted
girl--surely some other and gentler fate was in store. Wh