She had not long to remain in uncertainty, however, for hardly two minutes had passed when she heard a female voice, as some one approached the door from within, exclaiming, "Where's my bairn? Where's my dear child?" and immediately after a tall and commanding woman, somewhat past the middle age, issued forth with a quick step, and approached her. Her gray hair, falling from under a black velvet coif, and mingling with a lace veil attached thereunto, her long black velvet garments, in the fashion of the reign of Queen Mary, her fine, though worn countenance, her tall figure, and her quick step and eager look, all struck poor Julia with a feeling of awe, which was only dissipated by the warm and tender embrace in which the countess folded her, kissing her repeatedly, and saying, "And did ye doubt, poor thing, that Gowrie's mother would not take ye to her heart? Come, come, my bairn, you do not know me yet; but Dorothea Ruthven is no false friend or fleeching courtier, to say one thing and mean another. Come you in, and rest all your cares upon a mother's bosom; for, God willing, I will be a mother to you as to my own bairns."
Thus saying, she took her by the hand, and led her through the wide vestibule into a small but richly decorated room on the ground floor. Then stopping in the midst, where the full light from a large sconce filled with wax candles fell upon them both, she turned to look upon her fair companion for the first time.
As if struck and astonished by what she beheld, the old countess suddenly loosed her hold, and clasping her two hands together, she exclaimed, "Ae, but you're bonny!" Then instantly throwing her arms round her, she pressed her to her heart again.
Julia wept with agitation and joy, and the gentle clasping of her small soft fingers upon the old countess's hand conveyed without words all that was passing in her heart.
"Now sit down, my dear child," said Lady Gowrie, taking her own seat, and pointing to another close by her; "you're weary and frightened, I dare say, for I see from the first few lines of Gowrie's letter that something has not gone quite right with all your plans; but you must not let that put your heart down, my bonny bird, for this is a wild land, and if we were to let little things scare us, we should live in terror all our lives. My two young lads have gone out, and not come back yet, but they will be right glad when they return to find their new sister, and then we'll have our supper, and you shall go to bed and sleep."
"Oh, read Gowrie's letter first, before you are so kind, dear lady," said Julia, wiping the tears from her eyes; "you will see that my coming with him has first brought embarrassment upon him on his return to his native land, and perhaps you may not love me so well afterwards."
"Not a bit less, my child," said the old countess, in a firm, but sad tone. "I have ever loved those I loved, best when misfortune came upon them. Did I not love his father well," she continued, raising her eyes to heaven, "the day the axe fell? And yet, woe is me! bitter was that day of love, indeed! Well-a-well, I will read my boy's letter; but mind, my dear, you are to call me mother, for a mother I will be to you, come fair or come foul;" and wiping away the tears from her eyes, she held the letter nearer to the sconce, and read.
While she went on, Julia gazed at her with a look of anxious interest; but her longing to know what would be the lady's feelings on hearing all the particulars of her situation, was soon lost in scanning the worn but noble feelings, and tracing the strong likeness between her and her son.
"Fie, fie!" cried the old lady, at length, when she had read the somewhat long epistle to an end; "this is but a scratch, and you and Gowrie have taken it for a wound. Our good king is fond of gold, and he has those about him who are fonder still; but when they find that you have none, my child, they'll leave you at peace right willingly. It will all come to nothing, you'll see. However, in the meantime, like a dutiful mother," she continued, with a smile, "I must do what my son bids me, though I'm loath to part with you so soon. But first I must take care that the servants are tutored to speak carefully. All my own people I can depend upon; can you on yours, my child?"
"I trust so," replied Julia; "the two girls can speak no English, so they are safe; and of the men, one is faithfulness itself. The other I do not know so well, but he has been with Gowrie long, I believe, and came with us all the way from Italy."