n a bright June day in 1815, lying as if asleep, as
fair and noble-looking as before, but silent in death. Simple Flemish
peasants stand in a group around him, awed and admiring, asking each
other if this beautiful youth is an angel fallen from heaven, or
only a mortal man slain for the Honor of his country. His was a noble
death, and worthy of the suggestive memento of his early boyhood
before which we stood just now in the corridor of Slains Castle.

A little farther down this corridor, which to all intents and purposes
is a family picture-gallery, we shall be forced to stop before the
portrait of a dark woman, masculine and resolute, not beautiful nor
like the handsome race of the Hays, of which she was yet the last
direct representative. This is the famous Countess Mary, one of the
central figures of the family traditions. The Hays were hereditary
lords high constable of Scotland, and also one of the few Scottish
families in which titles and offices, as well as lands, are
transmitted through the female line. So this Countess Mary found
herself, at the death of her brother, countess of Erroll in her
own right and _lord_ high constable of Scotland. In one of the two
pictures of her at Slains, if I remember right, she is represented
with the baton of her office, with which badge she also appeared at
court before her marriage (after this it was borne by her husband
in the character of her deputy). Her husband was a commoner, a Mr.
Falconer of Dalgaty, whose reported history in connection with her is
curious and deserves to be told, though the old tradition is moulded
into so many different forms that it is very difficult to disentangle
the truth from its manifold embellishments. Toward the beginning of
the eighteenth century this intrepid and independent lady fell in love
with Mr. Falconer, who at first did not seem eager to return or notice
her affection. High-strung and chivalric by nature, she did not droop
and pine under her disappointment, but vowed to herself that she would
bring him to her feet. Mr. Falconer coner left the country after some
time, and went to London. The Countess Mary also traveled south the
same year, and no news of her was heard at Slains for some time.
Meanwhile, she and Mr. Falconer met, but unknown to the latter,
who about the same time became acquainted with a very dashing young
cavalier, evidently a man of high birth and standing, but resolutely
bent on mystifying his friends as to his ori