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 ony puir cat afeared o’ scauding water!  Ay, me laird, I’m here, mair fule I!” replied a woman’s voice.

“Hush, Rose!  Do not say so, my girl.  And do not call me ‘lord;’ I am your slave and not your ‘lord,’ my lady queen!  You know I love you—­you only of all women.”

“Luve me?  Ou, ay, sae ye tell me.  But this gran’ wedding is coming unco near to be naething but a jest.  How far will ye carry the jest?  Up till the altar railings?  Into the bridal chamber?  It’s deceiving and fuling me, ye are, me laird!  But I’ll tell ye weel!  Ye sail no marry yon girl, I say!  Gin ye gae sae far as to lead her to the kirk mesel’ will meet you at the altar and forbid the marriage.  And then see wha will put me out!”

“Hush, hush, you wild Highland witch, and listen to me.  I shall not marry that girl!  How can I, when I am married to you?  I have had an object in letting this thing go on thus far.  My plans could not all be accomplished until to-night.  But to-night something will happen that will put all thoughts of marrying and giving in marriage effectually out of the heads of all parties concerned, I will warrant.  And to-morrow, you and I will be far away from this place—­together, and never to part again.  Wait here for me, my love; I shall not be long away.  But on your life, do not stir, or speak, or scarcely breathe until you see me again.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Perhaps an hour.  Perhaps two hours.  You can be patient?”

“Ay, I can be patient.”

Here the low, whispering voice ceased.  And Salome?