elle's enfeebled health. Almost imperceptibly, with slow and
kindly footsteps, Death had drawn daily nearer, until at last, quite
happily and like a little child that is tired of playing and only wants
to rest, Gabrielle slipped out of the world and her place knew her no
more.

After his wife's death, McDermot had returned to his old home in
Scotland and had reassumed his duties there as laird of the district,
and when, later on, Death struck again, this time leaving his sister
Eliza a widow in none too affluent circumstances, he had presented her
with his Cornish home, glad to be rid of a place so haunted by poignant
memories.

In such wise had Mrs. McBain and Sandy come to dwell in Cornwall, and
since this, their third summer there, had brought his adored Nan
Davenant once more to Mallow Court on a lengthy visit, Sandy's cup of
joy was filled to the brim.

Mrs. McBain regarded her offspring from much the same standpoint as
does a hen the brood of enterprising ducklings which, owing to some
stratagem on the part of the powers that be, have hatched out from the
eggs upon which she has been conscientiously sitting in the fond belief
that they were those of her own species.

Sandy was a source of perpetual surprise to his mother, and of not
inconsiderable anxiety. How she and the late Duncan McBain of entirely
prosaic memory had contrived to produce more or less of a musical
genius by way of offspring she had never been able to fathom. Neither
parent had ever shown the slightest tendency in that direction, and it
is very certain that had such a development manifested itself, they
would have speedily set to work to correct it, regarding music--other
than hymnal--as a lure of Satan.

They had indeed done their best for Sandy himself in that respect,
negativing firmly his desire for proper musical tuition, with the
result that now, at twenty years of age, he was a musician spoilt
through lack of training. Most of his pocket-money in early days had
been expended upon surreptitious violin lessons, and he had frequently
practised for hours out of doors in the woods, at a distance from the
house which secured the parental ear from outrage.

Since her husband's death, however, Eliza, chiding herself the while
for her weakness, had yielded to a pulsing young enthusiasm that would
not be denied, and music of a secular nature was permitted at
Trevarthen--unchecked though disapproved.

Thus it came about that on the afte