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'Twas a great room with enormous fireplaces, and in front of one of
them stood Lord Cedric. There was a smile on his face as he noted
his ward's surprise. She looked upon him with interest and finally
spoke,--
"Lord Cedric sent for me; he is not here," and she retreated as if to
leave the room.
"Nay, do not leave until thou hast become acquainted with Cedric of
Crandlemar." He held out his hand to her longingly, pleadingly, and
stood thus before her; his figure of an Adonis silhouetted by the
flames that reached above his head in the great chimney behind him.
His face and form was a match for her own. A hunting-coat wrapped his
broad shoulders; his beauteous limbs were encased in high-field boots,
showing well his fine masculine mould.
"How many lords of Crandlemar are there?" she asked, almost
contemptuously.
"One, only," and he still held out his hand with a gesture of
entreaty. "I was the ill-humoured, boisterous man in Scotch attire
last night. I beg thee to forgive and forget it. Come--come--thou art
my ward.


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