the hour of eight
I go with Jamie , '' she added , slipping her arm through his , `` for ye must learn that genius ever goes before wealth and titles , '' and with a laugh she and Jamie Henderlin went out before us . After dinner we sat outside for a while , Sandy and I smoking , as Nancy and Jamie talked of the outer world and the celebrities of London and Paris . The lamps from the little settlement on the burn twinkled through the trees , while farther off the lights from the town of Edinburgh shone soft and silvery beneath the glimmering moon . We could hear the bleating of the sheep and the lowing of the cows in the long lane down by the Holm and the bells of the old Tron deaving our ears by striking the hour of eight . There is little use , with Jamie playing to the greatest people of the world at the moment of my writing , for me to tell the surprise and delight we had in his music ; or the new joy that Sandy felt in Nancy 's singing , it being the first time he had heard her voice for over two years . `` Do you want to hear some of my own verses ? '' she asked him at length .