"  Do  you  .  think  you  could  sing  to  my  mother  ? "  said
Max.  "  I  want  her  very  much  to  hear  the  song  you  gave
us  in  the  boat  last  week."

"You  mean  *She  is  far  from  the  land,'"  said  Doreen;
"but  the  worst  of   it  is,  that  is  almost  sure  to  make


DOREEN  7

Michael  cry :  he  seems  to  think  it  means  I  am  going  to  die
when  that  bit  comes,  *  Oh,  make  her  a  grave/  It  is  very
funny,  for  he  never  cries  at  *■  Kathleen  O'More.'  "

"  You  don't  sing  that  with  the  tears  in  your  voice,"  said
Michael ;  "  but  I  will  promise  not  to  cry,  if  directly  after
you  will  sing,  *  'Tis  no  time  to  take  a  wife.'  "

"  What  a  lugubrious  choice,"  said  Miriam,  laughing.
"  Ah !  but  he  did  take  a  wife  in  spite  of  them  all,"  said
Doreen.     "  You  will  see."

And  with  a  happy  freedom  from  nervousness,  partly
caused  by  her  youth  and  simplicity,  and  partly  by  the
kindly,  uncritical  faces  around  her,  she  began  to  sing.
Her  voice,  though  as  yet  untrained  and  immature,  was
clear  and  sweet  as  a  bird's.  It  rang  through  the  old  room ;
it  thrilled  through  Mrs.  Hereford's  heart  with  a  strange  inex-
plicable power,  it  softened  Miriam's  bright  eyes,  it  lighted
up  John  Desmond's  thoughtful  face,  and  it  filled  Max  with
exultation.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  voice  was  in  some
sense  his ;  he  delighted  in  having  been  the  one  to  discover
such  a  treasure  in  this  lonely  Irish  hamlet.
