nterview with Donal, which was longer or
shorter as Gibbie was there or not to release him.

Ginny's life was now far happier than it had ever been. New
channels of thought and feeling were opened, new questions were
started, new interests awaked; so that, instead of losing by Miss
Machar's continued inability to teach her, she was learning far more
than she could give her, learning it, too, with the pleasure which
invariably accompanies true learning.

Little more than child as she was, Donal felt from the first the
charm of her society; and she by no means received without giving,
for his mental development was greatly expedited thereby. Few weeks
passed before he was her humble squire, devoted to her with all the
chivalry of a youth for a girl whom he supposes as much his superior
in kind as she is in worldly position; his sole advantage, in his
own judgment, and that which alone procured him the privilege of her
society, being, that he was older, and therefore knew a little more.
So potent and genial was her influence on his imagination, that,
without once thinking of her as their object, he now first found
himself capable of making verses--such as they were; and one day,
with his book before him--it was Burns, and he had been reading the
Gowan poem to Ginevra and his sister--he ventured to repeat, as if
he read them from the book, the following: they halted a little, no
doubt, in rhythm, neither were perfectly rimed, but for a beginning,
they had promise. Gibbie, who had thrown himself down on the other
bank, and lay listening, at once detected the change in the tone of
his utterance, and before he ceased had concluded that he was not
reading them, and that they were his own.

Rin, burnie! clatter;
To the sea win:
Gien I was a watter,
Sae wad I rin.

Blaw, win', caller, clean!
Here an' hyne awa':
Gien I was a win',
Wadna I blaw!

Shine, auld sun,
Shine strang an' fine:
Gien I was the sun's son,
Herty I wad shine.

Hardly had he ended, when Gibbie's pipes began from the opposite
side of the water, and, true to time and cadence and feeling,
followed with just the one air to suit the song--from which Donal,
to his no small comfort, understood that one at least of his
audience had received his lilt. If the poorest nature in the world
responds with the tune to the mightiest master's song, he knows, if
not another echo should come back, that he has uttered a true cry.
But Ginev