"I wouldn't in any one but my partner," said the young priest, crossing over to the piano. "Don't cease playing, Miss Danton. I am devotedly fond of music, and it is very rarely indeed I hear such music as you have given us to-night. You sing, do you not?"
"Sing!" exclaimed her father. "Kate sings like a nightingale. Sing us a Scotch song, my dear."
"What shall it be, papa?"
"Anything. 'Auld Robin Gray,' if you like."
Kate sang the sweet old Scottish ballad with a pathos that went to every heart.
"That is charming," said Father Francis. "Sing for me, now, Scots wha hae."
She glanced up at him brightly; it was a favourite of her own, and she sang it for him as he had never heard it sung before.
"Have you no favourite, Doctor Danton?" she asked, turning to him with that dangerous smile of hers. "I want to treat all alike."
"Do you sing 'Hear me, Norma'?"
Her answer was the song. Then she arose from the instrument, and Father Francis pulled out his watch.