He wore the picturesque highland dress--the tartan of the Clan Scott.
But it was not the dress, the form, the face that fascinated the gaze of the girl.

It was the air, the look, the SOUL that shone through it all! A sun ray, glancing through the narrow slit in the solid wall, fell directly upon the fine face, lighting it up as with a halo of glory! "It is the face of the young St.John! Nay, it is more divine! It is the face of Gabriel who standeth in the presence of the Lord! But it expresses more of power! It is the face of Michael rather, when he put the hosts of hell to flight! Oh! a wondrously glorious face!" said the rapt young enthusiast to herself, as she gazed in awe-struck silence on the portrait.
"Ye are looking at that picture, young leddy?
Ay it weel deserves your regards! It is a grand one!" said Dame Ross, proudly.
"_Who is it?
One of the young princes ?_" inquired Salome, in a low tone, full of reverential admiration.
"Ane o' the young princes?
Gude guide us! Nae, young leddy; I hae seen the young princes ance, on an unco' ill day for Lone! And I dinna care if I never see ane mair.

But they dinna look like that," said the housekeeper, with a deep sigh.
"Who is it, then ?" whispered Salome, still gazing on the portrait with somewhat of the rapt devotion with which she had been wont to gaze on pictured saint, or angel, on her convent walls.

"Who is it, Mrs.Ross ?" "Wha is it?
Wha suld it be, but our ain young laird?
Our ain bonny laddie?
Our young Markis o' Arondelle?
Oh, waes the day he ever left Lone!" exclaimed Dame Girzie, lifting her apron to her eyes.
"The Marquis of Arondelle!" echoed Salome, catching her breath, and gazing with even more interest upon the glorious picture.
Even while she gazed, the ray that had lighted it for a moment was withdrawn by the setting sun, and the picture was swallowed up in sudden darkness.
"The Marquis of Arondelle," repeated Salome in a low reverent tone, as if speaking to herself.
"Ay, the young Markis o' Arondelle; wae worth the day he went awa'!" said the housekeeper, wiping her eyes.
Salome turned suddenly to the weeping woman.
"I have heard--I have heard--" she began in a low, hesitating voice, and then she suddenly stopped and looked at the dame.
"Ay, young leddy, nae doubt ye hae heard unco mony a fule tale anent our young laird; but if ye would care to hear the verra truth, ye suld do so frae mysel.

But come noo, leddy.