“Dinna greet,” she whispered, “dinna greet and dull your een that are brighter noo than a’ the jauds can show,—­the bonny blink o’ them!  They sha’ na flout and fleer, the feckless queans, the hissies wha’ll threep to stan’ i’ your auld shoon ae day!  Dinna greet, lass, dinna!”

But I rose on my arm, and stared about me in all the white moonlight of the vacant place, and hearkened to the voices and laughter rippling up the great staircase,—­for there were gallants in belike,—­and made as if I had been crying out in my sleep.

“Oh, Nurse Nannie, is it you?” I said.

“Ay, me, Miss Ailie darling!”

“Sure I dream so deeply.  I’m all as oppressed with nightmare.”

But with that she brushed my hair, and tenderly bathed my face in the bay-water, and fastened on my cap, and, sighing, tucked the coverlid round my shoulder, and away down without a word.

The next day was my mother’s dinner-party.  She was in a quandary about me, I saw, and to save words I offered to go over again and stay with the little Graeme.  So it came to pass, one time being precedent of another, that in all the merrymakings I had small share, and spent the greater part of those bright days in Margray’s nursery with, the boy, or out-doors in the lone hay-fields or among the shrubberies; for he waxed large and glad, and clung to me as my own.  And to all kind Mary Strathsay’s pleas and words I but begged off as favors done to me, and I was liker to grow sullen than smiling with all the stour.

“Why, I wonder, do the servants of a house know so much better than the house itself the nearest concerns of shadowy futures?  One night the nurse paused above my bed and guarded the light with her hand.

“Let your heart lap,” she said.  “Sir Angus rides this way the morrow.”

Ah, what was that to me?  I just doubled the pillow over eyes and ears to shut out sight and hearing.  And so on the morrow I kept well out of the way, till all at once Mrs. Strathsay stumbled over me and bade me, as there would be dancing in the evening, to don my ruffled frock and be ready to play the measures.  I mind me how, when I stood before the glass and secured the knot in my sash, and saw by the faint light my loosened hair falling in a shadow round me and the quillings of the jaconet, that I thought to myself how it was like a white moss-rose, till of a sudden Nannie held the candle higher and let my face on me,—­and I bade her bind up my hair again in the close plaits best befitting me.  And I crept down and sat in the shade of the window-curtains, whiles looking out at the soft moony night, whiles in at the flowery lighted room.  I’d heard Angus’s coming, early in the afternoon, and had heard him, too, or e’er half the cordial compliments were said, demand little Alice; and they told him I was over and away at Margray’s, and in a thought the hall-doors clashed behind him and his heels were ringing up the street, and directly he hastened home again,