Colville looked as if he thought there was a good deal to attract, and his dark eyes seemed to say so as he looked into Mary's, which drooped beneath his gaze.
'Your presents came, Captain Colville. They are beautiful, and fit to perfection. Ellinor and I cannot sufficiently thank you,' she said, in a low voice.
'Oho!' thought Sir Redmond, 'he has been sending them presents. Eh! a sly dog.'
'A few gloves are not worth mentioning,' replied Colville, hurriedly. And then he added—'How beautiful is the view all round this place, especially that with the silver birches and the stream glittering under their shadow. Ere I leave this, Miss Wellwood, you must show me some of your favourite places, your pet nooks—the scenery here is so full of picturesque spots.'
'Ellinor knows all such places hereabout better than I do. They employ her pencil freely,' said Mary, diffidently; 'and they are the very abode of old legends, fairies, and so forth.'
'I know that she is an artist possessed of both taste and skill,' said Colville; 'but is she also the musician?' he asked, turning to the piano, which was open.
'I am chiefly,' replied Mary, smiling; 'but I think you should hear Ellinor sing the "Birks of Invermay."'
'Who—or what are they?' asked Sir Redmond, with a drawl.
'Those very birches you see from the window,' replied Mary, laughing.
'And there is a song about them?'