The Lost Lady of Lone | Page 2

of a deep clear lake, surrounded by lofty mountains.
For generations past, the castle had been but a picturesque ruin, and the
island a barren desert, tenanted only by some old retainer of the ancient
family, who found shelter within its huge walls, and picked up a scanty
living by showing the famous ruins to artists and tourists.
But some years previous to the commencement of our story, when

Archibald-Alexander-John Scott succeeded his father, as seventh Duke
of Hereward, he conceived the magnificent, but most extravagant idea
of transforming that grim, old Highland fortress, perched upon its rocky
island, surrounded by water and walled in by mountains--into a
mansion of Paradise and a garden of Eden.
When he first spoke of his plan, he was called visionary and
extravagant; and when he persisted in carrying it into execution, he was
called mad.
The most skillful engineers and architects in Europe were consulted
and their plans examined, and a selection of designs and contractors
made from the best among them. And then the restoration, or rather the
transfiguration, of the place was the labor of many years, at the cost of
much money.
Fabulous sums were lavished upon Lone. But the Duke's enthusiasm
grew as the work grew and the cost increased. All his unentailed estates
in England were first heavily mortgaged and afterwards sold, and the
proceeds swallowed up in the creation of Lone.
The duchess, inspired by her husband, was as enthusiastic as the duke.
When his resources were at an end and Lone unfinished she gave up
her marriage settlements, including her dower house, which was sold
that the proceeds might go to the completion of Lone.
But all this did not suffice to pay the stupendous cost.
Then the duke did the maddest act of his life. He raised the needed
money from usurers by giving them a mortgage on his own life estate
in Lone itself.
The work drew near to its completion.
In the meantime the duke's agents were ransacking the chief cities in
Europe in search of rare paintings, statues, vases, and other works of art
or articles of virtu to decorate the halls and chambers of Lone; for
which also the most famous manufacturers in France and Germany

were elaborating suitable designs in upholstery.
Every man directing every department of the works at Lone, whether as
engineer, architect, decorator, or furnisher, every man was an artist in
his own speciality. The work within and without was to be a perfect
work at whatever cost of time, money, and labor.
At length, at the end of ten years from its commencement, the work
was completed.
And for the sublimity of its scenery, the beauty of its grounds, the
almost tropical luxuriance of its gardens, the magnificence of its
buildings, the splendor of its decorations, and the luxury of its
appointments, Lone was unequalled.
What if the mad duke had nearly ruined himself in raising it?
Lone was henceforth the pride of engineers, the model of architects, the
subject of artists, the theme of poets, the Mecca of pilgrims, the eighth
wonder of the world.
Lone was opened for the first time a few weeks after its completion, on
the occasion of the coming of age of the duke's eldest son and heir, the
young Marquis of Arondelle, which fell upon the first of June.
A grand festival was held at Lone, and a great crowd assembled to do
honor to the anniversary. A noble and gentle company filled the halls
and chambers of the castle, and nearly all the Clan Scott assembled on
the grounds.
The festival was a grand triumph.
Among the thousands present were certain artists and reporters of the
press, and so it followed that the next issue of the London News
contained full-page pictures of Castle Lone and Inch Lone, with their
terraces, parterres, arches, arbors and groves; Loch Lone, with its
elegant piers, bridges and boats; and the surrounding mountains, with
their caves, grottoes, falls and fountains.

Yes, the birthday festival was a perfect triumph, and the fame of Lone
went forth to the uttermost ends of the earth. The English Colonists at
Australia, Cape of Good Hope, and New Zealand, read all about it in
copies of the London News, sent out to them by thoughtful London
friends. We remember the day, some years since, when we, sitting by
our cottage fire, read all about it in an illustrated paper, and pondered
over the happy fate of those who could live in paradise while still on
earth. Five years later, we would not have changed places with the
Duke of Hereward.
But this is a digression.
The duke was in his earthly heaven; but was the duke happy, or even
content?
Ah! no. He was overwhelmed with debt. Even Lone was