The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1893-01-01

| handed, / am gong to present you TO Lady
| PrestohgraDge and my three Draw daugn-
tiers, Of whom perhaps you may have
heard, for think they are more famous
than papa. This way"
He led me into another long room above,
| where his wife sat at frame Of emDroi-
| derry, and the three handsomest young
| women Il suppose) in Scotland stood to-
gether by window.
This IS my new friend. Mr.. Balfour,"
| said he, presenting me by the arm. 'Da-
| vid. here is Mrs. Grant, who will be very
| pleased if she can bel p you. And here, y
says he. turning to the three younger
| ladies, "here are my three Draw daughters.
| A fair question to We. Mr.. DAVE, which
| of the three is the best favoredY And
| wager he will never have the inipudence 70
! PROFOUND honest Alan Ramsay's answer. p"
HereuDon all three. and my Lady Pres
tongrange as well. cried out against this
| sally, which fas l was acquainted with the
| verses he referred tor brought shame into
| my own cheek. IL seemed TO re a cita-
ton objectionable In father. and was
| amazed that these ladies could laugh even
| while thew reproved or mace believe TO.
Under cover of this mirih Prestongrange
! got forth of the chamber and L was left
| like fish upon drv land, in that very I'M
| suitable society. | could never deny, in
| looking back upon what followed, that
was emnently stockish; and l must say
| the ladies' were well drilled to have so long
patience with me- The mother. indeed.
sat close al her embroidery. only looking
| now and again and smiling; Dnt the misses.
| and especially the eldest, who was, be-
| sides. the most handsome, paid me score
| of attentions which | was very Ill able to
| repay. 1t was all in vain to tell myself
was young feilo- of some worth, as we'll as
good estate and had no call to feel a5ashed
| taf hes 9 oldest
| Older than myself and no one of them by
| any probability half as learned. Reason
| ing would not change the fact; and there
were times when the color came into my
| face to think was shaved that day for
| the first time.
The talk going on, with all their endeav-
| ors. very heavily, the eldest took pity on
my awkwardness. sat down to her instru-
| ment, of which she was famed mistress,
| and entertained me for while with play
| ing and singing, both in the Scots and in
| the Italian manners. This put me more
| at my ease, and being reminded of Alan's
| air that he had taught me IN the hole near
| Camden, made SO bold as to whistle q
| bar or two and asked if she knew that.
| She shook her head. 81 never heard q
| note of it," said she. whistle it all
through. And now once again." she ad-
| ded, after I had done so.
Then she picked it out upon the key
riched the same with well-sounding chords,
| and sang, as she played, with very drolI
expression and broad accent:
Haenae got just the Tilt of It!
Isuae this the tune thet ye whustledf
"You see," she says. 81 can do the
| poetry too. only it won't rhyme" And
| then again:
lam Miss Grant. six to the Advocate;
You. believe, ale Dauvit Balfour.
told her how much astonished l was
| by her genius.
And what do you call the name of it ?"
| she asked.
II do not know the real name," said I.
II just call it Alan's air."
| She looked at me directly in the face.
az shall call it David's air." said she |;
| though if it's the least like what your
never wonder that the king got little good
| by 1t, for it's but melancholy music. Your
| other name do not like, 80 if you was
| ever wishing to hear your tune again you
are To ask for it by NINE"
This was said with significance that
| gave my heart jog. why that, Miss
Grant, asked.
Why" says she, "if ever you should
| come to get hanged l will set your last
| dying speech and confession to that tune
| and sing it,"
This put it beyond doubt that she was
| partly informed OF my story and peril.
| How or just how much it was more diff
| cult to guess. 1t was plain she knew there
was something of danger in the name of
Alan, and thus warned me to leave it out
| of reference; and plain she knew that
| l stood under some criminal sus-
picion. judged besides that the
| harshness of her last speech (which, be-
sides, she had followed up Immediately
| with very noisy piece of music) was to
! end
| stood beside her, affecting to listen and
| admire, but truly whirled away by nv
own thoughts. have always found this
young Lady to be lover of the mysterious !;
and certainly this first interview made a
mystery that was beyond my plummet.
One thing l learned long after, the hours
of the Sunday had been well employed,
| the bank porter had been found and ex-
amined, my visit to Charles Stewart was
| discovered, and the deduction made that I
| was pretty deep with James and Alan.
| and most likely in a continued correspond
| ence with the last. Hence this broad hint
| that was given me across the harpsichord.
| In the midst of the piece of music one
of the younger misses, who was at a win
| dow over the close, cried on her sisters to
come quick, for there was Gray eyes
| again" The whole family trooped there
| at once, and crowded one another for q
| look. The window where they ran was
| In an odd corner of that room. gave above
| the entrance door, and thanked the close.
Come, Mr.. Baifour," they cried. .'come
and see. She is the most beautiful crea-
turel She hangs around the close head
| these last days. always with some
wretched-like gillies. and yet seems quite
| lady"
| had no need to look; neither did I
| look twice or long. | was afraid she
| might have seen me there, looking down
| upon her from that chamber of music,
and she without and her father in the
same house perhaps begging for his lite
with tears and myself come but newly from
rejecting his petitions. But even that
| glance set me in better cOnceit of myself,
| and much less awe of the young ladies'
| They were beautiful. that was beyond
| question, but Catriona was beautiful, too,
| and had a kind OF brightness in her like a
| coal of tire. As much as the others cast
| me down she lifted me up. | remembered
| | had talked easily with her. Ii I could
| make no hand of it with these fine MAIDS
| IL was, perhaps, something their own
| fault. My embarrassment began TO be a
| little mingled and iightened with a sense
| oi fun; and when the mother smiled at me
| from her embroidery, and the three
| daughters unbeut To me like baby, all
| with ''papa's orders" written on their
| faces. there were times when | could have
! found 1t in my heart 10 smile myself
Presently papa returned, the same kind,
! happy like, pleasant poken man.
Now, girls" said he, Il must take Mr..
B3liour away again; but | hope you have
! been able rO him, IN har