It was at this plain but substantial midday meal, served in an up-stairs room, that Nina incidentally told them something of her adventures and experiences during the past six months, though, of course, nothing was said about her reasons for leaving London.  Maurice happened to inquire where it was that she had heard of Lionel’s illness.

“In Glasgow,” said Nina.  “I saw about it in a newspaper yesterday; I came up by the train last night, because—­because—­” here some slight color appeared in the pale, clear complexion—­“because if an old friend is very ill one wishes to be near.”  And perhaps it was to escape from this little embarrassment that she proceeded to say:  “Oh, they are so kind, the Glasgow people; I have never seen such domesticity.”  She glanced at Maurice, as if to see whether the word was right; then she went on.  “When I was engaged by the director of the Saturday Evening Concerts he told me that they had to change their singers frequently; that if I wished to remain in Glasgow or Edinburgh I must sing at private concerts and give lessons to have continual employment.  And there was not much difficulty; oh, they are so enthusiastic, the Scotch people, about music!—­to sing in the St. Andrew’s Hall or the City Hall—­and especially if you sing one of their own Scotch songs—­the enthusiasm, the applause—­it is like fire going through the nerves.  Well, it is very pleasant, but it is not enough employment, even though I get one or two other engagements, like the Edinburgh Orchestral Festival.  No, it is not enough; but then I began to sing at musical evenings, in the fashionable private houses, and also to give lessons in the daytime; and then it was I began to know the kindness of that people, their consideration, their benignitance to a stranger, their good-humor, and good wishes to you.  Oh, a little brusque sometimes, the father of a family, perhaps; the lady of the house and her daughters—­never!  More than once a lady has said to me, ’What, are you all alone in this big town?—­my daughters will call for you to-morrow and take you to the Botanic Gardens; and after you will come back to tea.’  Or, again, they have shown me photographs of a beautiful large house—­like a castle, almost—­on the side of a hill, among trees; and they say, ’That is our house in the summer; it is by the sea; if you are here in the summer, you must come and stay with us, and you will play lawn-tennis with the girls and go boating with them and fishing all day; then every evening we will have a little concert—­’”

“I beg your pardon,” interposed the blunt-tongued doctor, “but do you call that Scotch hospitality, Miss Ross?—­to invite a professional singer to their houses and get her services for nothing?”

“Ah, no, no, you mistake,” said Nina, putting up the palm of her right hand for a second.  “You mistake.  I was offered terms as well—­generous, oh, yes, very generous; but it was not that that impressed me—­it was their kindness—­their admitting me into their domesticity—­I have found the mother as kind to me as to her own daughters.  No airs of patronage; they did not say, ‘You are a foreigner; we cannot trust you;’ they said, ‘You are alone; come into our family, and be friends with us.’  But not at once; no, no; for at first I did not know any one—­”