“Ane autumn my lord had a company of friends staying at the castle—gentlemen friends, the lot of them. Sorrow a lady was ever asked to the castle barring it was some old lady without daughters, or nieces, or any women at all. It was not my lady countess who would throw temptation to matrimony in the way of her son, the earl.
“Oh, but she was the devil of the world. You shall hear, my bairn. You shall hear. Among the company at the castle was ane painter lad, which even the king made much of—so ’twas said—so fine was his paintings.
“My lady countess had noticed my lass, my Phebe. Ane day she sent a lackey down to my cottage, with orders for me to bring my girl up to the castle. So I obeyed my lady.
“We were showed to a room full of pictures, and images, and rubbish, which I soon found out was the painter lad’s workshop. My lady was there, sitting in the only easy-chair. And the painter lad was there, standing before a queer prop, with a picture on it.
“As soon as the lackey said, ‘The young woman, my lady,’ and shut the door, the countess looked at us without speaking, and then turned to the painter, and said, ‘Here is your model, Mr. Fordyce,’ as if my Phebe had been nothing but a bundle of lumber.
“The painter lad was an ugly little mug as ever was seen, but a great painter he were, and a civil man. He looked at my Phebe, and I could see the surprise and delight in his ill-favored little face, and he bowed to her, and handed both of us to seats. My lady frowned, and he blushed, and said something very softly, which I thought was asking pardon for his civility to us.
“Aweel, bairnie, that were the beginning o’ the end. Fra that day my lass went up to the castle every day, in obedience to my lady’s orders. I do not know, I cannot tell when it was, or how it was, that my lord first began to be present at the ‘sittings,’ as they called them. Maybe he heard the painter lad praising the beauty of my lass, for, bairnie, though she was born and brought up on his land, he had never seen her, for he never showed his face down in such low places as his laborers’ huts. So, maybe, he heard the painter lad praising her beauty, and for curiosity went in to take a look at her.
“But sometimes I think my lady countess planned it all—to amuse my lord, and keep him at home. What did she care for a peasant girl’s heart, or her soul, or her good name, either, if she could amuse my lord and keep him from going off and getting married, and bringing a wife home to send her and her lady daughter to Kedge Hall?
“Oh, but she was the devil of the world!
“Ah me! ah me! ah me! I did not know what was going on. You see, I didn’t go with my lass to the castle after that first time. My lady’s maid, an aul wife, always came and fetched her. No, I did not know what was going on. And why should I tell you of wickedness that is not for you to hear?