In thus talking he gained his end without knowing it, for, instead
of a mere routine lawyer and impulsive Irishman, Miss Carmichael found
in her companion an intelligent, thoughtful, and cultured acquaintance,
whose society she thoroughly enjoyed. Occasionally an unconscious and
half-timid lifting of her long eye-lashes towards his animated, handsome
face thrilled the botanist with a new, if fleeting, sensation of
delight. As they passed through a gate into a hillside meadow, at the
foot of which ran a silvery brook, they were made aware of voices in
song. The voices were two, one a sweet but somewhat drawly female
soprano, the other, a raucous, loud, overmastering shout, that almost
drowned the utterance of its companion. The masculine one furnished the
words to the promenaders, and these were:--
Shayll we gaythurr at thee rivverr
Whayerr bright angel feet have traw-odd?
"Do you know who these are?" asked Miss Carmichael.
"If I thought he knew as much tune," replied Coristine, "I should say he
was The Crew."
"Oh, tell me, please, who is The Crew?" Thereupon the lawyer launched
out into a description of his travels, so comical a one that his fair
companion laughed until the tears stood in her eyes, and she accused him
of making her break the Sabbath.
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