heir,
a beautiful, vague, delightful dream, that she tried in vain to recall
on the next morning.

In the course of the day she made several attempts to ask Mrs. Girzie
Ross a simple question. And she wondered at her own hesitation to do it.
At length she asked it:

"Mrs. Ross, is that portrait in the tower very much like Lord Arondelle?"

"Like him, young leddy? Why, it is his verra sel'! And only not sae bonny
because it canna move, or smile, or speak. Ye should see him _alive_
to ken him weel," said the housekeeper, heartily.

That afternoon Salome went up alone to the top of the tower, and spent a
dreamy, delicious hour in sitting at the feet of the portrait and gazing
upon the face.

That evening, while the housekeeper attended her at tea, she took courage
to make another inquiry, in a very low voice:

"Is Lord Arondelle engaged, Mrs. Ross?"

She blushed crimson and turned away her head the moment she had asked the
question.

"Engaged? What--troth-plighted do you mean, young leddy?"

"Yes," in a very low tone.

"Bless the lass! nay, nor no thought of it," answered the housekeeper.

"I was thinking that perhaps it would be well if he were not, that is
all," explained Salome, a little confusedly.

That night, as she undressed to retire to bed, she looked at herself in
the glass critically for the first time in her life.

It was not a pretty face that was reflected there. It was a pale, thin,
dark face, that might have been redeemed by the broad, smooth forehead,
shaped round by bands of dark brown hair, and lighted by the large,
tender, thoughtful gray eyes, had not that forehead worn a look of
anxious care, and those eyes an expression of eager inquiry.

"But then I am so plain--so very, very plain," she said to herself, as if
uttering the negation of some preceding train of thought.

And with a deep sigh she retired to rest.

The next day Girzie Ross herself was the first to speak of the young
marquis.

"I hae been thinking, young leddy, what garred ye ask me gin the young
laird, were troth plighted. And I mistrust ye must hae heard these fule
stories anent his hardship, having a sweetheart at Ben Lone. There's
nae truth in sic tales, me leddy. No that I'm denying she's a handsome
hizzy, this Rose Cameron; but she's nae one to mak' the young laird
forget his rank. Ye'll no credit sic tales, me young leddy."

"I have heard no tales of the sort," said Salome, looking up in surprise.

"Ay, hae