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 window over the close, cried on her sisters to come quick, for there was "_Grey eyes_ again." The whole family trooped there at once, and crowded one another for a look.

The window whither they ran was in an odd corner of that room, gave above the entrance door, and flanked up the close.
"Come, Mr.Balfour," they cried, "come and see.

She is the most beautiful creature! She hangs round the close-head these last days, always with some wretched-like gillies, and yet seems quite a lady." I had no need to look; neither did I look twice, or long.

I 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 life with tears, and myself come but newly from rejecting his petitions.

But even that glance set me in a better conceit of myself, and much less awe of the young ladies.