the music, she began to hum, and Dame
Dickenson and I exchanged a look of strange remembrance, as, with no
accompaniment whatever, and as though the thought had just seized her,
she poured forth her soul and her voice together in that old gipsy
tune--Marian's song, as I have always called it:

"Love that is life
Love that is death,
Love that is mine--"

changed at the last into:

"Love that is wrong,
Love that is strong,
Love that is death--"

and as we listened, taken out of ourselves by her beauty and the
tragedy of her voice, a figure came from the gloom into the light of
the doorway, and a gay voice cried:

"Shall I be arrested for trespass, Lord Stair?" and to our amazement
Danvers Carmichael stood before us.

I had never seen the lad since the day it was determined to make an
Oxford man of him, instead of following out his father's wishes and
fetching him home to our own University, and the surprise I felt at
sight of him, a grown man and a monstrous fine one, gave me something
of a jolt in my mind at the rapid passing of the years.

He was tall and handsome, with bright, brave ways, a distinguished
carriage, and a delightful speaking voice. His face was clean shaven,
showing a chin heavy but with fine lines, and lips which curved back
complacently over teeth of singular whiteness. His mouth denoted pride
as well as obstinacy, which, taken with the brooding look in the eye,
gave me the impression of a nature both jealous and passionate. One of
his greatest charms, and I felt it on the instant of our meeting, was a
gay but unassertive manner, possible only to those who have had a
secured position from birth. I noted as well a fine sense in his
relation to others, and believe that if he had come a-begging we would
have known him to be gently born. He wore high boots, a broad hat, and
a handsome riding suit of light cloth, with a cloak hanging from one
shoulder. He carried himself with jauntiness and surety; gave one's
hand a hearty grip, and, to sum it all up, was one of the finest men I
have ever seen, and a son of whom even Sandy Carmichael had a right to
be proud, in spite of the fact that he was a man of fashion and
something of a dandy. He had as well a certain romantic appearance and
a glance which made young girls drop their eyes before him and set old
ladies to talking of their first loves.

"When Dand Carmichael goes up High Street I never saw a woman looking
down it,"