a draw-well of music yourself."

Donal laughed merrily. A moment more and he broke out singing:

My thoughts are like fireflies, pulsing in moonlight;
My heart is a silver cup, full of red wine;
My soul a pale gleaming horizon, whence soon light
Will flood the gold earth with a torrent divine.

"What's that, Donal?" cried Ginevra.

"Ow, naething," answered Donal. "It was only my hert lauchin'."

"Say the words," said Ginevra.

"I canna--I dinna ken them noo," replied Donal.

"Oh, Donal! are those lovely words gone--altogether--for ever?
Shall I not hear them again?"

"I'll try to min' upo' them whan I gang hame," he said. "I canna the
noo. I can think o' naething but ae thing."

"And what is that, Donal?"

"Yersel'," answered Donal.

Ginevra's hand lifted just a half of its weight from Donal's arm,
like a bird that had thought of flying, then settled again.

"It is very pleasant to be together once more as in the old time,
Donal--though there are no daisies and green fields.--But what place
is that, Donal?"

Instinctively, almost unconsciously, she wanted to turn the
conversation. The place she pointed to was an opening immediately
on the roadside, through a high bank--narrow and dark, with one side
half lighted by the moon. She had often passed it, walking with her
school-fellows, but had never thought of asking what it was. In the
shining dusk it looked strange and a little dreadful.

"It's the muckle quarry, mem," answered Donal: "div ye no ken that?
That's whaur maist the haill toon cam oot o'. It's a some eerie
kin' o' a place to luik at i' this licht. I won'er at ye never
saw't."

"I have seen the opening there, but never took much notice of it
before," said Ginevra.

"Come an' I'll lat ye see't," rejoined Donal. "It's weel worth
luikin' intill. Ye hae nae notion sic a place as 'tis. It micht be
amo' the grenite muntains o' Aigypt, though they takna freely sic
fine blocks oot o' this ane as they tuik oot o' that at Syene. Ye
wadna be fleyt to come an' see what the meen maks o' 't, wad ye,
mem?"

"No, Donal. I would not be frightened to go anywhere with you.
But--"

"Eh, mem! it maks me richt prood to hear ye say that. Come awa'
than."

So saying, he turned aside, and led her into the narrow passage, cut
through a friable sort of granite. Gibbie, thinking they had gone
to have but a peep and return, stood in the road, looking at the
clouds and the moon, and crooning