miles north of Ben Lone. No court lady in the land was fairer than this
rustic Highland beauty. Her form was tall, fine, and commanding. Her step
was stately and graceful as the step of an antelope. Her features were
large, regular, and clear cut, as if chiseled in marble, yet full of
blooming and sparkling life as ruddy health and mountain air could fill
them. Her hair was golden brown, and clustered in innumerable shining
ringlets closely around her fair open forehead and rounded throat. Her
eyes were large, and clear bright blue. Her expression full of innocent
freedom and joyousness.

Rumor said that the fast young Marquis of Arondelle, while deer-stalking
from his hunting lodge in the neighborhood of Ben Lone, had chanced to
draw rein at the gate of Rob. Cameron's sheiling, and had received from
the shapely hand of the beautiful shepherdess a cup of water, and had
been so suddenly and forcibly smitten by her Juno-like beauty, that
thenceforth his visits to his hunting lodge became very frequent, both in
season and out of season, and that he was a very dry soul, whose thirst
could be satisfied by nothing but the spring water that spouted close by
the shepherd's sheiling, dipped up and offered by the hands of the
beautiful shepherdess.

Much blame was cast by the rustic neighbors upon all parties
concerned--first of all, upon the young marquis, who they declared "meant
nae guid to the lass," and then to the old shepherd, who they said, "suld
tak mair care o' his puir mitherless bairn," and lastly, to the girl,
who, as they affirmed, "suld guide hersel' wi' mair discretion."

None of these criticisms ever came to the ears of the parties concerned:
they never do, you know.