e.

No, the form that she had seen in the murky hall seemed that of her
betrothed husband, or it was his spirit.

She could not tell which, nor could she test the question now. The house
was full of wedding guests, who were now most probably sound asleep in
their beds. And the household all had long since retired. She could not
rouse them only to satisfy her own doubts without any other practical
result. For what if the intruder were Lord Arondelle? He was not in the
least an objectional guest. And in the morning he would explain his
strange presence.

By this time Salome had reasoned herself into some degree of calmness.
But she was still too much excited to feel sleepy or to think of retiring
to bed.

The mid-summer night was warm and close, even there in the Highlands--or
in her nervous condition it seemed to her to be so. She wanted more air.
She went to the window, and seated herself in an easy-chair, and looked
out.

A heavenly night!

The deep-blue sky was spangled with myriads of sparkling stars. The full
harvest moon was at the zenith and pouring down a flood of silvery
radiance over mountain, lake and island.

Right opposite the window was the elegant little bridge that spanned the
lake between the island and the mountain, at the base of which stood the
little Gothic church with the cottages of the hamlet clustered around it.

A beautiful scene!

This morning it had been gay and noisy with a rejoicing crowd come to
inspect the decorated grounds, and to triumph over the approaching
marriage of their disinherited young lord, with the present heiress of
his lost estate.

To-morrow this scene would be even more gay and more noisy, with a
greater and more rejoicing crowd. For all the Clan Scott were to gather
here to do honor to the nuptials of their hereditary chieftain.

But to-night the beautiful scene was holy in its solitude and stillness.

Hark!

A sound of voices beneath the window.

Salome started, and drew back. And the next moment, paralyzed by
consternation and despair, she overheard the following conversation:

"_Hist!_ are you there, Rose?" inquired a dear familiar voice.

"Ay, I'm here, me laird! After being turnit frae the castle like a thief,
or a beggar, or a dog! after being threatened wi' a constable and a
prison if I ever showed my face here; but once mair I hae come agen, in
obedience to your bidding! Come creeping, creeping, creeping ander the
castle wa', by night, like on