From the direction of the quarters of the maids of honour came a succession of faint sniggerings; but the apartments of Sorais herself -- whom I devoutly pitied if she happened to be there -- were silent as the grave.
There was absolutely no end to that awful song, with its eternal 'I will kiss thee!' and at last neither I nor Sir Henry, whom I had summoned to enjoy the sight, could stand it any longer; so, remembering the dear old story, I put my head to the window opening, and shouted, 'For Heaven's sake, Good, don't go on talking about it, but _kiss_ her and let's all go to sleep!' That choked him off, and we had no more serenading.
The whole thing formed a laughable incident in a tragic business.
How deeply thankful we ought to be that even the most serious matters have generally a silver lining about them in the shape of a joke, if only people could see it.

The sense of humour is a very valuable possession in life, and ought to be cultivated in the Board schools -- especially in Scotland.
Well, the more Sir Henry held off the more Sorais came on, as is not uncommon in such cases, till at last things got very queer indeed.

Evidently she was, by some strange perversity of mind, quite blinded to the true state of the case; and I, for one, greatly dreaded the moment of her awakening.

Sorais was a dangerous woman to be mixed up with, either with or without one's consent.
At last the evil moment came, as I saw it must come.

One fine day, Good having gone out hawking, Sir Henry and I were sitting quietly talking over the situation, especially with reference to Sorais, when a Court messenger arrived with a written note, which we with some difficulty deciphered, and which was to the effect that 'the Queen Sorais commanded the attendance of the Lord Incubu in her private apartments, whither he would be conducted by the bearer'.
'Oh my word!' groaned Sir Henry.