There was no trace of it left. Her beautiful eyes were clear and bright, and full of intelligence, though her brow was grave and even sad, and her look was raised towards him with a gentle, imploring, deprecating expression, as it she had in some way offended and sought forgiveness.
"Well, my poor Arrah," said the young nobleman, in a kind tone, "I fear you were much frightened last night."
"I was frightened, my lord," she answered, bending down her eyes, "but not much; I knew it was for the best, and hoped that it would soon be extinguished."
"All things are for the best," replied Lord Walton. "God forbid that I should doubt it, Arrah. Yet this has been a severe loss and a great grief to me; for I cannot see the house of my fathers so injured without regret. It is not that many invaluable and rare things have been destroyed, but that mementos of the past are gone with them--things the sight of which recalled the days of boyhood--places stored with a thousand memories, ay, and a thousand associations with times before my own. I can no longer sit in that room, Arrah, and think of those who tenanted it in former years, or of all the many scenes that have there taken place."
"I am very sorry for it indeed," replied Arrah Neil; "but yet----" and she paused, leaving her sentence unconcluded.
"Tell me, Arrah," continued Lord Walton, not heeding her broken reply, "when you had retired to rest last night, which they tell me was about nine, did you hear any noise in the tower, or any one going up the stairs which pass close behind the room where you slept?"
She gazed at him for a moment in silence, with her large bright eyes fixed somewhat sadly upon his countenance, then shook her head and answered, "No one."
The young lord remarked the peculiarity of her look, and added, "I am sure you would answer truly, Arrah, for your poor grandfather, who gave you an education so much above that which persons far higher in rank bestow upon their children, taught you I know always to adhere to truth. Yet hear me, Arrah; I have always tried to be kind to you and yours; I have been fond of you from your childhood. Now I suspect that this fire was not the work of accident, I cannot find that the door at the foot of the tower was closed last night. That enemies were abroad I have too good reason to know; and you, too, warned me yourself that danger was at hand----"
"Oh, but it was not that!--it was not that!" cried Arrah Neil; "the danger I feared for you was not of fire, Charles Walton. Ask me not to tell you, for they made me swear I would not before they would let me go."
"Indeed!" exclaimed the young nobleman, gazing at her thoughtfully. "Well, I will not ask you then."