But it was not the dress, the form, the face that fascinated the gaze of
the girl. It was the air, the look, the SOUL that shone through
it all!

A sun ray, glancing through the narrow slit in the solid wall, fell
directly upon the fine face, lighting it up as with a halo of glory!

"It is the face of the young St. John! Nay, it is more divine! It is
the face of Gabriel who standeth in the presence of the Lord! But it
expresses more of power! It is the face of Michael rather, when he put
the hosts of hell to flight! Oh! a wondrously glorious face!" said the
rapt young enthusiast to herself, as she gazed in awe-struck silence on
the portrait.

"Ye are looking at that picture, young leddy? Ay it weel deserves your
regards! It is a grand one!" said Dame Ross, proudly.

"_Who is it? One of the young princes?_" inquired Salome, in a low
tone, full of reverential admiration.

"Ane o' the young princes? Gude guide us! Nae, young leddy; I hae seen
the young princes ance, on an unco' ill day for Lone! And I dinna care
if I never see ane mair. 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?"