she, smiling, and began the little
chanson of the "Garde Ecossaise," the song of the exiled nobles in the
service of France, so dear to every Scotchman's heart.

While the melody described the gathering of the clans in the mountains,
to take leave of their departing kinsmen, the measured tramp of the
music, and the wild ringing of the pibroch, the old chieftain's face lit
up, and his eye glared with the fierce fire of native pride; but
when the moment of leave-taking arrived, and the heart-rending cry of
"Farewell!" broke from his deserted, the eye became glazed and filmy,
and with a hand tremulous from emotion, he stopped the singer.

"Na, na, Kate; I canna bear that, the noo. Ye ha'e smote the rock too
suddenly, lassie;" and the tears rolled heavily down his seared cheeks.

"You must let me finish uncle," said she, disengaging her hand; and at
the instant, sweeping the chord with a bold and vigorous finger, she
broke into a splendid and chivalrous description of the Scottish
valour in the service of France, every line swelling with their proud
achievements, as foremost they marched to battle. To this succeeded
the crash and turmoil of the fray, the ringing cheers of the plaided
warriors mingling with the war-cries of the Gaul, till, in a burst of
triumph and victory, the song concluded. Then, the old man sprang from
his chair, and threw his arms around her in a transport, as he cried--

"It's a mercifu' thing, lassie, ye did na' live fifty years ago: by my
saul, there's nae saying how many a brave fellow the like o' that had
laid low!"

"If that be one of the hymns you spoke of, Kate," said the O'Donoghue,
smiling, "I fancy Mark would have no objection to be a nun; but where is
he?--he has left the room."

"I hope there was nothing in my song he disliked?" asked she, timidly;
but before there was time for an answer the door opened, and Mark
appeared with Herbert in his arms.

"There!" said he, laying him gently on the sofa; "if cousin Kate
will only sing that once more, I'll answer for it, it will save you a
fortnight in your recovery."

Kate knelt down beside the sick boy, and kissed him tenderly; while he,
poor fellow, scarce daring to believe in the reality of all before him,
played with the long tangles of her silky hair, and gazed on her in
silence.

"We maun be cautious, Mark," whispered M'Nab, carefully; but Mark had no
ears nor eyes save for her who now sat beside his brother, and in a low
soft voic