ather's desire, wrote to their mother's half-sister, so that
by-and-by, as they grew older, most of them forgot that they had an
aunt Agnes. Lucy Lennox was as unlike her half-sister as it was
possible for two sisters to be. In the first place, Agnes, compared
with Lucy, was old, being many years her senior; in the second, Agnes
was singularly plain, whereas Lucy was very lovely. She was far more
than lovely; she was endowed with a wonderful charm which drew the
hearts of all people, men and women alike, who saw her. Her beautiful
dark eyes, her rosy cheeks, with their rare dimples, her gay laughter,
her glorious voice in singing, her pretty way of talking French, almost
like one born to the graceful tongue, the way she devoted herself to
her husband first, next to her sweet girls, the whole appearance of her
radiant face, and her conduct on each and every occasion, made her a
favourite with all who knew her.

Alas! she was gone; for Lucy Lennox was one of those not destined to
live long in this world. She died just after the birth of her youngest
child, and Lennox felt that now his one duty was to do all in his power
for the precious Flowers she had left behind her.

There were three great and spacious houses in the Upper Glen. One, we
have seen, was occupied by Mr Lennox, one by his sister, Mrs Constable;
but between The Paddock and The Garden was a house so large, so
magnificent, so richly dowered with all the beauties of nature, that it
more nearly resembled a palace than an ordinary house. This great
mansion belonged to the Duke of Ardshiel, and was called the Palace of
the Kings, for the simple reason that its noble owner was looked upon
as a king in those parts. Further, King James the First of England and
Sixth of Scotland had passed some time there, and 'Bonnie Prince
Charlie' had taken refuge at Ardshiel in the time of his wanderings.
The great castle belonged to the Duke, who had many other places of
residence, but who had never gone near the Palace of the Kings since a
terrible tragedy took place there, about twenty years before the
opening of this story.

A kinswoman and ward of Ardshiel's, a charming girl of the name of
Viola Cameron, had fallen madly in love with a gallant member of the
great clan of Douglas, and the Duke somewhat unwillingly gave his
consent to the marriage on condition that Lord Alasdair Douglas should
add Cameron to his own name. Lord Alasdair agreed, for great was his
love