"Here are deposited some o' the relics left by the auld duke until such time as he shall be ready to tak' them awa'."
Salome followed her into the room and suddenly drew back in surprise.
She saw standing out from the gloom, the form of a young man of majestic beauty and grace.
A second look showed her that this was only a full-length life-sized portrait—but of whom?
Her gaze became riveted on the glorious presence.
The portrait represented a young man of about twenty-five years of age, tall, finely formed, broad-shouldered, deep-chested, with a well-turned, stately head, a Grecian profile, a fair, open brow, dark, deep blue eyes, and very rich auburn hair and beard. 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.