"It is growing quite chilly up here," said Salome, shivering, and drawing her little red shawl more closely around her slight frame. "I think we will go down now, Mrs. Ross. And if you will be so good as to come to me after tea, this evening, I shall like to hear the story of this sorrowful family wreck," she added, as she turned to leave the place.
That evening, as the heiress sat in the small drawing room appropriated to her own use, the housekeeper rapped and was admitted.
And after seating herself at the bidding of her young mistress, Girzie Ross opened her mouth and told the true story of the fall of Lone, as I have already told to my readers.
"And this devoted son actually sacrificed all the prospects of his whole future life, in order to give peace and prosperity to his father's declining days," murmured Salome, with her eyes full of tears and her usually pale cheeks, flushed with emotion.
"He did, young leddy, like the noble soul, he was," said Dame Girzie.
"I never heard of such an act of renunciation in my life," murmured Salome.
"And the pity of it was, young leddy, that it was a' in vain," said the housekeeper.
"Yes, I know. Where is he now?" inquired the young girl, in a subdued voice.
"I dinna ken, leddy. Naebody kens," answered Girzie Ross, with a deep sigh, which was unconsciously echoed by the listener.
Then Dame Ross not to trespass on her young mistress's indulgence, arose and respectfully took her leave.