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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Yes, so it seems," said the housekeeper. "Aweel then, see here. This letter begins 'My ain dear Wifie, ye mind? 'My ain dear Wifie' and gaes on wi' a lot o' luve, and a' that, whilk I need na read, till ye. And it ends, look here 'Your devoted husband ARONDELLE. There! what do ye think o' that?" "I'm so astonished, ma'am, I don't know what to think."
The obsequious host of the Hereward Arms called him "my lord," and inquired after his gracious parents, the duke and the duchess. John Scott did not actually deceive the people as to his identity, but he tacitly allowed them to deceive themselves. He did not tell them that he was the Marquis of Arondelle; neither did he contradict them when they called him so.
But, love, instead of telling the little story you promised, it seems that you have put me through a very sharp examination," said his lordship, laughing. "Now, what do you mean by it? There is something behind all this," he added, gravely. "Of course there is something behind. Did I not tell you that I had a confession to make concerning a wicked dream? Listen, Lord Arondelle.
So saying the philosophical host of the Arondelle Arms gave his mind to the service of his numerous customers, who had come from the trial at Banff very hungry and thirsty, and now filled the bar-room with their persons, and all the air with their complaints. They were not at all satisfied with the verdict. They had had a murder, and they had a right to have a hanging.
"Well then, papa, dear, here has been a foolish girl very foolish, I think she must be, going about, intruding even into the Castle, and telling all that will listen to her, that she is betrothed to the Marquis of Arondelle." "Oh! Just as I feared!" muttered the banker, in a tone that instantly riveted the attention of his daughter.
She has not got a stern father to ruffle the course of her true love, but a spooney old fellow who spreads out his hands over your heads and says: 'Bul-less you, my chee-ild-der-en!" Lord Arondelle smiled at the dry banker's imitation of the heavy stage-father, but made no comment. "Yes, go see Salome; and then go to the duke, your father, and acquaint him with the result of your proposal.
But they dinna look like that," said the housekeeper, with a deep sigh. "Who is it, then?" whispered Salome, still gazing on the portrait with somewhat of the rapt devotion with which she had been wont to gaze on pictured saint, or angel, on her convent walls. "Who is it, Mrs. Ross?" "Wha is it? Wha suld it be, but our ain young laird? Our ain bonny laddie? Our young Markis o' Arondelle?
Ye should see him alive to ken him weel," said the housekeeper, heartily. That afternoon Salome went up alone to the top of the tower, and spent a dreamy, delicious hour in sitting at the feet of the portrait and gazing upon the face. That evening, while the housekeeper attended her at tea, she took courage to make another inquiry, in a very low voice: "Is Lord Arondelle engaged, Mrs. Ross?"
"ARONDELLE! You here!" she exclaimed, starting towards him. But she met only the empty air, the form had vanished. In unbounded amazement she stared all around to see where it could have gone, and in what part of the darksome hall she herself then stood.
She went off into the most terrible fit of excitement I ever seen her in yet, and I have seen her in some considerable ones, now I do assure your ladyship. And in her raving and tearing, my lady, I first heerd that Mr. John Scott and the young Marquis of Arondelle and the Duke of Hereward was all one and the same gentleman, and he was the lawful husband of Rose Cameron.
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