The Lost Lady of Lone Part 13

"No, I'll warrant you didn't! Well, don't think anything more of it now.

And don't expect too much of human nature. In this year of grace there are no saints left alive! Believe that, and accept it, my girl!"

CHAPTER VI.

A HORRIBLE MYSTERY ON THE WEDDING DAY.

On the day before the wedding all the preparations were completed.

The grounds around the castle, paradisial in their own natural beauty under this heavenly blue sky of June, were adorned with all that art and taste and wealth could bring to enhance their attractions in honor of the occasion.

Triumphal arches of rare exotic flowers were erected at intervals along the avenue leading from the castle courtyard down to the bridge that spanned Loch Lone from the island, to the mountain hamlet on the main land. The bridge itself was canopied with evergreens, and starred with roses. Every house in the little hamlet of Lone was so wreathed and festooned with flowers as to look like a fairy bower. The little gothic church, said to be coeval in history with the castle itself, was decorated within and without as for an Easter or Christmas festival. And the only inn of the place, an antiquated but most comfortable public house, known for centuries as the "Hereward Arms," was almost covered with flags, banners and bushes, in honor of the presence of the Duke of Hereward, and the Marquis of Arondelle, especially, and of other n.o.ble guests who had arrived there to a.s.sist at the wedding of the next day.

Yes, the expectant bridegroom and his aged father were at the Hereward Arms. Etiquette did not admit of their being guests at the Castle on the day before the expected marriage. And much ado had the young marquis to keep the duke quietly at the inn. The old man enjoying his pleasing hallucination of being still the proprietor of Lone, and the possessor of a princely revenue, fretted against the delay that detained him at the Hereward Arms, when he was so anxious to go on to Castle Lone. And his son did not venture to leave him until late at night, when he left him in bed and asleep.

Then the young marquis walked out and crossed the evergreen covered bridge leading to the Castle grounds. He knew that custom did not sanction his visit to his bride-elect on the night before their wedding, but he could at least gaze on the walls that sheltered her, while he rambled over the rich lawns, parterres, shrubberies, and terraces.

Within the Castle, meanwhile, all the arrangements for the morning's festivity were completed.

Halls, drawing-rooms, parlors, chambers, and dining-rooms, all sumptuously furnished and beautifully decorated, were ready for the wedding guests.

In the dining-room the luxurious wedding-breakfast was set. The service was of solid gold and finest Sevres china; the viands comprised every foreign and domestic delicacy fitting the feast.

In the drawing-room the magnificent bridal presents were displayed--coronets, necklaces, earrings, brooches, bracelets, rings, of pearls, diamonds, opals, emeralds, sapphires, and amethysts; jewel caskets, dressing cases, work boxes, and writing desks, of ormolu, of malachite, of pearl, and of ivory, of silver, and of gold; illuminated prayer-books and Bibles, with antique covers and clasps set with precious stones; tea and dinner sets of solid gold; camel's hair and Cashmere shawls and scarfs; sets of lace in Honiton, Brussels, Valencia. Irish point and old point--on to an endless list of the most splendid offerings.

"The wealth of Ormus and of Ind"

seemed to load the tables in costly gifts to the banker's daughter, and marquis' bride.

In the bride's own luxurious dressing-room, the elegant bridal costume was displayed. It consisted of a fine point-lace dress over a trained-skirt of rich white satin, a full-length vail of priceless cardinal point-lace; white kid boots, embroidered with small pearls; white kid gloves, trimmed at the wrists with lace; wreath and bouquet of orange flowers; necklace and pendant earrings and bracelets of rich Oriental pearls, set with diamonds. These jewels were the imaginary gift of the mad duke to the bride-elect of his son, and were paid for, as has been already explained, by the bride's own father. A sentiment of tender reverence for the unfortunate old duke had inspired Salome to select these jewels from all the others that had been lavished upon her, to wear on her wedding day.

To the credit of the good banker's delicacy and discretion let it be said, that not even Salome knew but that this elegant gift had been given by the duke in reality as it was in intention.

The Castle was now full of guests, friends of the bride and of her father's family. The eight young ladies who were to attend her to the altar, had arrived early in the afternoon, each chaperoned by her mother, aunt, or some matronly friend. These had all been shown to their separate apartments.

They a.s.sembled again at the seven o'clock dinner in the family dining-room, and afterwards made a little tour of inspection through the rooms, looking with approval and admiration upon the sumptuous wedding-breakfast table, set in the great dining-room, and with surprise and enthusiasm at the splendid wedding presents displayed in the drawing-room. Finally, after a social cup of tea, they separated and retired to their several rooms, that they might be up in good time the next morning.

When Salome entered her own bed-chamber, she found the old housekeeper, Girzie Ross, awaiting her.

"I took the liberty, me leddy, to come to see ye, gin ye hae ony commands for me the night," said the dame, courtesying.

"No, Mrs. Ross, I have no orders to give. All is done, as I understand.

If there be anything left undone, you will use you own discretion about it. I can thoroughly trust you," said Salome.

"Guid-night, then, me leddy. And a guid rest and a blithe waking till ye," said the dame, courtesying again, and turning to leave the room.

"One moment, Mrs. Ross, if you please," said the young lady, gently arresting her steps.

"Ay, me leddy, as mony as ye'll please," promptly replied the dame, returning to her place.

"I wish to ask you a question," began Salome, in a slow and hesitating manner. "Have you seen or heard anything more of that girl, Mrs. Ross?"

"Meaning that ne'er-do-weel light o' love Rose Cameron, me leddy!"

inquired the housekeeper.

"Yes, Rose Cameron. There have been such crowds of people on the island today to inspect the decorations, that I thought--I thought--"

"As that handsome jaud might be amang 'em, me leddy? Ou, ay, and sae she waur! But when I caught her prowling about here, I sent Mr. McRath to warn her off the place, and threaten her wi' the constable gin she didna gang!" said the housekeeper.

"But that was cruel, Mrs. Ross."

"Na, na, me leddy. It waur unco well dune! She was after no guid prowling about here, and making an excuse o' luking at the deekorated grounds. She didna care for the sight a bodle! Aweel she's gane, and a guid riddance."

"What does the girl look like, Mrs. Ross?"

"Eh, leddy, she's a strapping wench! tall and broad-shouldered, and full-breasted, with a handsome head that she carries unco high, and big, bold blue eyes, and a heap o' long, red hair. That's Rosy Cameron, me leddy."

This was a rather rough portrait of the Juno-like Highland beauty; but then, it was drawn by an enemy, you know.

"But dinna fash yersel' about yon hizzie ony mair, me young leddy. She'll na be permitted to trouble ye," concluded the housekeeper.

"That will do, Mrs. Ross. Thanks. But pray do not let anyone be harsh with that poor girl. If she is a little crazy, she is all the more to be pitied. Good-night," said Salome, thus gently dismissing her talkative attendant.

"Guid night, me young leddy. Guid rest and blithe waking to ye," repeated the old woman, as she courtesied and left the room.

"Poor girl!" mused Salome. "I cannot help sympathizing with her tonight.

What if Arondelle who is so courteous to all, were courteous to her also.

And she, unused to courtesy in her rude Highland home, mistook such gentle courtesy for preference, for love, and gave him her love in return? He would not be in the least to be blamed, while she would be much to be pitied. What a cruel sight these wedding preparations must be to her! What a miserable night this must be for her! I must see to that poor girl's welfare," concluded Salome.

A low rap at her door disturbed her.

"Come in."

Her maid entered.

"What is it, Janet?"

"If you please, Miss, Sir Lemuel's man has just brought me a message for you. Sir Lemuel requests, Miss, that you will come to his room before you retire."

"Dear papa, I will go at once. You need not wait for me here, Janet. Just turn the lights down low--they make the room so warm--and leave the windows partly open, and then go to bed, my girl, I shall not want you again tonight," said Salome, as she pa.s.sed out of the chamber and went down to the long hall, at the opposite extremity of which was her father's room.

She entered silently, and found the banker wrapped in his gray silk dressing-gown and seated in his large resting-chair.

"Come and sit by me, my dear. I only wanted to have a little talk with you tonight," he said, holding out his hand to her.