[Illustration: Lady Dundee lifted up the child for him to kiss. Pages 261-2. ]

 Graham of Claverhouse

 By

 IAN MACLAREN

 Author of

 _"Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush, "_ _"Kate Carnegie, " "Young Barbarians, "_ _"A Doctor of the Old School, "_ _Etc. , Etc. _

 Illustrated in Water-Colors by FRANK T. MERRILL

 Copyright, 1907, by John Watson

 The Sale of this book in New York and Philadelphia is confined to the stores of JOHN WANAMAKER. 

 NEW YORK AND LONDON THE AUTHORS AND NEWSPAPERS ASSOCIATION 1907

 COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY JOHN WATSON. 

 _Entered at Stationers' Hall. _ _All rights reserved. _

 Composition and Electrotyping by J. J. Little & Co. Printing and binding by The Plimpton Press, Norwood, Mass. , U. S. A. 

CONTENTS

 BOOK I. CHAPTER PAGE I. --By the Camp Fire 11 II. --The Battle of Sineffe 31 III. --A Decisive Blow 53 IV. --A Change of Masters 72

 BOOK II. 

 I. --A Covenanting House 93 II. --The Coming of the Amalekite 114 III. --Between Mother and Lover 133 IV. --Thy People Shall Be My People, Thy God My God 155

 BOOK III. 

 I. --One Fearless Man 175 II. --The Crisis 194 III. --The Last Blow 216 IV. --Thou Also False 237

 BOOK IV. 

 I. --Treason in the Camp 263 II. --Visions of the Night 284 III. --Faithful Unto Death 303

[Illustration: (FACSIMILE PAGE OF MANUSCRIPT FROM BESIDE THE BONNIEBRIAR BUSH)]

GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE

BOOK I

CHAPTER I

BY THE CAMP-FIRE

That afternoon a strange thing had happened to the camp of the Princeof Orange, which was pitched near Nivelle in Brabant, for the Princewas then challenging Condé, who stuck behind his trenches at Charleroiand would not come out to fight. A dusty-colored cloud came racingalong the sky so swiftly--yet there was no wind to be felt--that itwas above the camp almost as soon as it was seen. When the fringes ofthe cloud encompassed the place, there burst forth as from its belly awhirlwind and wrought sudden devastation in a fashion none had everseen before or could afterwards forget. With one long and fierce gustit tore up trees by the roots, unroofed the barns where the Prince'sheadquarters were, sucked up tents into the air, and carried soldiers'caps in flocks, as if they were flocks of rooks. This commotion wenton for half an hour, then ceased as instantly as it began; there wascalm again and the evening ended in peace, while the cloud of furywent on its way into the west, and afterwards we heard that a verygrand and strong church at Utrecht had suffered greatly. As the campwas in vast disorder, both officers and men bivouacked in the openthat night, and as it was inclined to chill in those autumn evenings, fires had been lit not only for the cooking of food, but for thecomfort of their heat. Round one fire a group of English gentlemen hadgathered, who had joined the Prince's forces, partly because, likeother men of their breed, they had an insatiable love of fighting, andpartly to push their fortunes, for Englishmen in those days, and stillmore Scotsmen were willing to serve on any side where the pay and therisks together were certain, and under any commander who was a man ofhis head and hands. Europe swarmed with soldiers of fortune from GreatBritain, hard bitten and fearless men, some of whom fell far fromhome, and were buried in unknown graves, others of whom returned totake their share in any fighting that turned up in their own country. So it came to pass that many of our Islanders had fought impartiallywith equal courage and interest for the French and against them, likethose two Scots who met for the first time at the camp-fire thatnight, and whose fortunes were to the end of the chapter to be socuriously intertwined. There was Collier, who afterwards became MyLord Patmore; Rooke, who rose to be a major-general in the Englisharmy; Hales, for many years Governor of Chelsea Hospital; Venner, theson of one of Cromwell's soldiers, who had strange notions about afifth monarchy which was to be held by our Lord himself, but who was agood fighting man; and some others who came to nothing and left nomark. Two young Scots gentlemen were among the Englishmen, who were tohave a share in making history in their own country, and both to dieas generals upon the battle-field, the death they chiefly loved. Bothmen were to suffer more than falls to the ordinary lot, and the lifeof one, some part of whose story is here to be told, was nothing elsebut tragedy. For the gods had bestowed upon him quick gifts of mindand matchless beauty of face, and yet he was to be hated by hisnation, till his name has become a byword, and to be betrayed by hisown friends who were cowards or self-seekers, and to find even love, like a sword, pierce his heart. 

Scotland contains within it two races, and partly because their bloodis different and partly because the one race has lived in the open andfertile Lowlands, and the other in the wild and shadowy Highlands, theCelt of the North and the Scot of the south are well-nigh as distantfrom each other as the east from the west. But among the Celts therewere two kinds in that time, and even unto this day the distinctioncan be found by those who look for it. There was the eager and fieryCelt who was guided by his passions rather than by prudence, whostruck first and reasoned afterwards, who was the victim of varyingmoods and the child of hopeless causes. He was usually a Catholic infaith, so far as he had any religion, and devoted to the Stuartdynasty, so far as he had any policy apart from his chief. There wasalso another sort of Celt, who was quiet and self-contained, determined and persevering. Men of this type were usually Protestantin their faith, and when the day of choice came they threw in theirlot with Hanover against Stuart. Hugh MacKay was the younger son of anancient Highland house of large possessions and much influence in thedistant North of Scotland; his people were suspicious of the Stuartsbecause the kings of that ill-fated line were intoxicated with theidea of divine right, and were ever clutching at absolute power; norhad the MacKays any overwhelming and reverential love for bishops, because they considered them to be the instruments of royal tyrannyand the oppressors of the kirk. MacKay has found a place betweenCollier and Venner, and as he sits leaning back against a saddle andto all appearance half asleep, the firelight falls on his broad, powerful, but rather awkward figure, and on a strong, determined face, which in its severity is well set off by his close-cut sandy hair. Although one would judge him to be dozing, or at least absorbed in hisown thoughts, if anything is said which arrests him, he will cast aquick look on the speaker, and then one marks that his eyes are steelygray, cold and penetrating, but also brave and honest. By and by herouses himself, and taking a book out of an inner pocket, and leaningsideways towards the fire, he begins to read, and secludes himselffrom the camp talk. Venner notices that it is a Bible, and opens hismouth to ask him whether he can give him the latest news about thefifth monarchy which made a windmill in his poor father's head, but, catching sight of MacKay's grim profile, thinks better and onlyshrugs his shoulders. For MacKay was not a man whose face or mannerinvited jesting. 

Upon the other side of the fire, so that the two men could only catchoccasional and uncertain glimpses of each other through the smoke, aswas to be their lot in after days, lay the other Scot in carelessgrace, supporting his head upon his hand, quite at his ease and ingood fellowship with all his comrades. If MacKay marked a contrast tothe characteristic Celt of hot blood and wayward impulses, by hisreserve and self-control, John Graham was quite unlike the averageLowlander by the spirit of feudal prejudice and romantic sentiment, ofuncalculating devotion and loyalty to dead ideals, which burned withinhis heart, and were to drive him headlong on his troubled anddisastrous career. A kinsman of the great Montrose and born of a linewhich traced its origin to Scottish kings, the child of a line offighting cavaliers, he loathed Presbyterians, their faith and theirhabits together, counting them fanatics by inherent disposition andtraitors whenever opportunity offered. He was devoted to the EpiscopalChurch of Scotland, and regarded a bishop with reverence for the sakeof his office, and he was ready to die, as the Marquis of Montrose haddone before him, for the Stuart line and their rightful place. Onecan see as he stretches himself, raising his arms above his head witha taking gesture, that he is not more than middle size and slightlybuilt, though lithe and sinewy as a young tiger, but what catchesone's eye is the face, which is lit up by a sudden flash of firelight. It is that of a woman rather than a man, and a beautiful woman toboot, and this girl face he was to keep through all the days of strifeand pain, and also fierce deeds, till they carried him dead fromKilliecrankie field. It was a full, rich face, with fine complexionsomewhat browned by campaign life, with large, expressive eyes ofhazel hue, whose expression could change with rapidity from love tohate, which could be very gentle in a woman's wooing, or very hardwhen dealing with a Covenanting rebel, but which in repose were apt tobe sad and hopeless. The lips are rich and flexible, the nose strongand straight, the eyebrows high and well arched, and the mouth, withthe short upper lip, is both tender and strong. His abundant and richbrown hair he wears in long curls falling over his shoulders, as didthe cavaliers, and he is dressed with great care in the height ofmilitary fashion, evidently a gallant and debonair gentleman. He hasjust ceased from badinage with Rooke, in which that honest soldier'ssomewhat homely army jokes have been worsted by the graceful play ofGraham's wit, who was ever gay, but never coarse, who was no ascetic, and was ever willing to drink the king's health, but, as his worstenemies used grudgingly to admit, cared neither for wine nor women. Silence falls for a little on the company. Claverhouse looking intothe fire and seeing things of long ago and far away, hums a Royalistballad to the honor of King Charles, and the confounding of crop-earedPuritans. Among the company was that honest gentleman, Captain GeorgeCarlton, who was afterwards to tell many entertaining anecdotes of theWar in Spain under that brilliant commander Lord Peterborough. And asCarlton, who was ever in thirst for adventures, had been serving withthe fleet, and had only left it because he thought there might be moredoing now in other quarters, Venner demanded whether he had seenanything whose telling would make the time pass more gayly by thefire, for as that liberated Puritan said: "My good comrade on theright is engaged at his devotions, and I also would be reading a Bibleif I had one, but my worthy father studied the Good Book so much thatmen judged it had driven him crazy, and I having few wits to losehave been afraid to open it ever since. As for Mr. Graham, if I catchthe air he is singing, it is a song of the malignants against which asa Psalm-singing Puritan I lift my testimony. So a toothsome story ofthe sea, if it please you, Mr. Carlton. "

"Apart from the fighting, gentlemen, " began Carlton, who was a man ofcareful speech and stiff mind, "for I judge you do not hanker afterbattle-tales, seeing we shall have our stomach full ere many days bepast, if the Prince can entice Condé into the open, there were notmany things worth telling. But this was a remarkable occurrence, thelike of which I will dare say none of you have seen, though I knowthere are men here who have been in battle once and again. Upon the'Catherine' there was a gentleman volunteer, a man of family and fineestate, by the name of Hodge Vaughan. Early in the fight, when theEarl of Sandwich was our admiral and Van Ghent commanded the Dutch, Vaughan received a considerable wound, and was carried down into thehold. Well, it happened that they had some hogs aboard and, the worsefor poor Hodge Vaughan, the sailor who had charge of them, like anyother proper Englishman, was fonder of fighting than of feeding pigs, and so left them to forage for themselves. As they could get nothingelse, and liked a change in their victuals when it came within theirreach, they made their meal off Vaughan, and when the fight was overthere was nothing left of that poor gentleman except his skull, whichwas monstrous thick and bade defiance to the hogs. This is not acommon happening, " continued Carlton with much composure, "and I thankmy Maker I was not carried into that hold to be a hog's dinner. Yet Igive you my word of honor that the tale is true. "

"Lord! it was a cruel ending for a gallant gentleman, " said Collier, "and it makes gruesome telling. Have you anything else sweeter for themouth, for there be enough of hogs on the land as well as on sea, andsome of them go round the field, where men are lying helpless, on twolegs and not on four, from whom heaven defend us. "

"Since you ask for more, " replied Carlton, "a thing took place aboutwhich there was much talk, and on it I should like to have yourjudgment. Upon the same ship with myself, there was a gentlemanvolunteer, and he came with the name of a skilful swordsman. He hadbeen in many duels and thought no more of standing face to face withanother man, and he cared not who he was, than taking his breakfast. You would have said that he of all men would have been the coolest onthe deck and would have given no heed to danger. Yet the moment thebullets whizzed he ran into the hold, and for all his land mettle hewas a coward on the sea. When everyone laughed at him and he wasbecoming a thing of scorn, he asked to be tied to the mainmast, sothat he might not be able to escape. So it comes into my mind, "concluded Carlton, "to ask this question of you gallant gentlemen, Iscourage what Sir Walter Raleigh calls it, if I mind me rightly, theart of the philosophy of quarrel, or must it not be the issue ofprinciple and rest upon a steady basis of religion? I should like toask those artists in murder, meaning no offence to any gentlemanpresent who may have been out in a duel, to tell me this, why one whohas run so many risks at his sword's point should be turned into acoward at the whizz of a cannon ball?"

"There is not much puzzle in it as it seems to me, " answered Rooke;"every man that is worth calling such has so much courage, see you, but there are different kinds. As Mr. Carlton well called it, there island mettle, and that good swordsman was not afraid when his feetwere on the solid ground, then there is sea mettle, and faith he hadnot much of that, a trifle too little, I grant you, for a gentleman. So it is in measure with us all I never saw the horse I would notmount or the wall within reason I would not take, but I cannot put myfoot in a little boat and feel it rising on the sea without a trembleat the heart. That is how I read the riddle. "

"What I hold, " burst in Collier, "is that everything depends on aman's blood. If it be pure and he has come of a good stock, he cannotplay the coward any more than a lion can stalk like a fox. Land orsea, whatever tremble be at the heart he faces his danger as agentleman should, though there be certain kinds of danger, as has beensaid, which are worse for some men than others. But I take it yourgentleman volunteer, though he might be a good player with the sword, was, if you knew it, a mongrel. "

"If you mean by mongrel humbly born, " broke in Venner, "saving yourpresence, you are talking nonsense, and I will prove it to you fromdays that are not long passed. When it came to fighting in the days ofour fathers, I say not that the lads who followed Rupert were notgallant gentlemen and hardy blades, but unless my poor memory hasbeen carried off by that infernal whirlwind, I think Old Noll'sIronsides held their own pretty well. And who were they butblacksmiths and farmer men, from Essex and the Eastern counties. Theredoes not seem to me much difference between the man from the castleand the man behind the plough when their blood is up and they have asword in their hands. "

"I am under obligation to you all for discussing my humble question, but I see that we have two Scots gentlemen with us, and I would cravetheir opinion. For all men know that the Scots soldier has goneeverywhere sword in hand, and whether he was in the body-guard of theKing of France, or doing his duty for the Lion of the North, has neverturned his back to the foe. And I am the more moved to ask an answerfor the settlement of my mind, because as I have ever understood, theScots more than our people are accustomed to go into the reason ofthings, and to argue about principles. It is not always that thestrong sword-arm goes with a clear head, and I am waiting to hear whattwo gallant Scots soldiers will say. " And the Englishman paid histribute of courtesy first across the fire to Claverhouse, whoresponded gracefully with a pleasant smile that showed his white, even teeth beneath his slight mustache, and then to MacKay, who leanedforward and bowed stiffly. 

"We are vastly indebted to Mr. Carlton for his good opinion of ournation, " said Claverhouse, after a slight pause to see whether MacKaywould not answer, and in gentle, almost caressing tones, "but I fearme his charity flatters us. Certainly no man can deny that Scotland isever ringing with debate. But much of it had better been left unsaid, and most of it is carried on by ignorant brawlers, who should be leftploughing fields and herding sheep instead of meddling with matterstoo high for them. At least such is my humble mind, but I am only agentleman private of the Prince's guard, and there is opposite me acommissioned officer of his army. It is becoming that Captain HughMacKay, who many will say has a better right to speak for Scotlandthan a member of my house, and who has just been getting counsel fromthe highest, as I take it, should give his judgment on this curiouspoint of bravery or cowardice. "

Although Graham's manner was perfectly civil and his accents almostsilken, Venner glanced keenly from one Scot to the other, and everyonefelt that the atmosphere had grown more intense, and that there waslatent antipathy between the two men. And even Rooke, a blunt andmatter-of-fact Englishman, who having said his say, had been smokingdiligently, turned round to listen to MacKay, who had never said aword through all the talk of the evening. 

"Mr. Carlton and gentlemen volunteers, " MacKay began, with graveformality, "I had not intended to break in upon your conversation, which I found very instructive, but as Claverhouse" (and it wascharacteristic of his nation that MacKay should call Graham by thename of his estate) "has asked me straightly to speak, I would firstapologize for my presence in this company. I do not belong, as yeknow, to the King's guard, and it is true that I have a captain'scommission. As the tempest of to-day had thrown all things intoconfusion, and it happened that I had nowhere to sit, Mr. Venner wasso kind as to ask me to take my place by this fire for the night, andI am pleased to find myself among so many goodly young gentlemen. Imake no doubt, " he added, "that everyone will so acquit himself asvery soon to receive his commission. "

"The sooner the better, " said Hales, "and as I have a flask of decentBurgundy here, I will pass it round that we may drink to our luckfrom a loving cup. " And everyone took his draught except MacKay, whoonly held the cup to his lips and inclined his head, being a severeand temperate man in everything. 

"Concerning the duel and the action of that gentleman, " continuedMacKay, "my mind may not be that of the present honorable company. Ithas ever seemed to me that a man has no right to risk his own life ortake that of his neighbor save in the cause of just war, when hedoubtless is absolved. For two sinful mortals to settle their poorquarrels by striking each other dead is nothing else than blackmurder. There is no difficulty to my judgment in understanding thecharacter of that duellist. When he knew that through skill in fencinghe could kill the other man and escape himself, he was always ready tofight; when he found that danger had shifted to his own side, he wasquick to flee. My verdict on him, " and MacKay's voice was vibrant, "isthat he was nothing other than a butcher and a coward. "

"As the Lord liveth, " cried Venner, "I hear my sainted father layingdown the law, and I do Captain MacKay filial reverence. May I inquirewhether Scotland is raising many such noble Puritans, for they arequickly dying out in England. Such savory and godly conversation haveI not heard for years, and it warms my heart. "

"The sooner the knaves die out in England the better, " cried Collier;"but I mean no offence to Venner, who is no more a Puritan than I am, though he has learned their talk, and none at all to Captain MacKay, whom I salute, and of whose good services when he was fighting on theother side we have all heard. Nor can I, indeed, believe that he is aRoundhead, for I was always given to understand that Highlandgentlemen were always Cavaliers, and high-spirited soldiers. "

"Ye be wrong then, good comrades, " broke in Claverhouse, "for allHighlanders be not of the same way of thinking, though I grant youmost of them are what ye judge. But have you never heard of the godlyMarquis of Argyle, who took such care of himself on the field ofbattle, but afterwards happened to lose his head through a littleaccident, and his swarm of Campbells, besides some other clans that Iwill not mention? My kinsman of immortal memory, whom I maintain to bethe finest gentleman and most skilful general Scotland has yet reared, could have told you that there were Highland Roundheads; he knew them, and they knew him, and I hope I need not be telling this company whathappened when they met. " As Graham spoke, it may have been thefirelight on MacKay's face, but it seemed to flush and his expressionto harden. However, he said no word and made no sign, and Claverhouse, whose voice was as smooth as ever, but whose eyes were flashing fire, continued: "If there should be trouble soon in Scotland, and my advicefrom home tells me that the fanatics in the West will soon be comingto a head and taking to the field, we shall know that some of theclans are loyal and some of them are not. And for my own part, I carenot how soon we come to our duel in Scotland. Please God, I woulddearly love to have the settling of the matter. With a few thousandCamerons, Macphersons, MacDonalds, and such like, I will guaranteethat I could teach the Psalm-singing canters a lesson they would neverforget. But I crave pardon for touching on our national differences, when we had better be employed in cracking another flask of that goodBurgundy. " And Graham, as if ashamed of his heat, stretched his armsabove his head. 

"May God in His mercy avert so great a calamity, " said MacKay after apause. "When brother turns against brother in the same nation it isthe cruellest of all wars. But the rulers of Scotland may makethemselves sure that if they drive God-fearing people mad, they willrise against their oppressors. Mr. Graham, however, has wisdom on hisside--I wish it had come a minute sooner--when he said there was noplace for our Scots quarrels in the Prince's army. Wherefore I say nomore on that matter, but I pray we all may have the desire of asoldier's heart, a righteous cause, a fair battle, and a crowningvictory, and that we all in the hour of peril may do our part asChristian gentlemen. "

"Amen to that, Captain MacKay of Scourie, three times Amen!" criedGraham. "I drink it in this wine, and pledge you all to brave deedswhen a chance comes our way. The sooner the better and the gladder Ishall be, for our race have never been more content than when theswords were clashing. I wish to heaven we were serving under a morehigh-spirited commander; I deny not his courage, else I would not beamong his guard, nor his skill, but I confess that I do not love a manwhose blood runs so slow, and whose words drop like icicles. But thesebe hasty words, and should not be spoken except among honorablecomrades when the wine is going round by the camp-fire. And here isJock Grimond who, because he taught me to catch a trout and shoot themuir-fowl when I was a little lad, thinks he ought to rule me all mydays, and has been telling me for the last ten minutes that he hasprepared some kind of bed with the remains of my tent. So good nightand sound sleep, gentlemen, and may to-morrow bring the day for whichwe pray. "

CHAPTER II

THE BATTLE OF SINEFFE

It was early in the morning on the first day of August, and darknesswas still heavy upon the camp, when Grimond stooped over his masterand had to shake him vigorously before Claverhouse woke. 

"It's time you were up, Maister John; the Prince's guards aregatherin', and sune will be fallin' in; that's their trumpetssoundin'. Ye will need a bite before ye start, and here's asmall breakfast, pairt of which I saved oot o' that stramashyesterday--sall! the blast threatened to leave neither meat norlodgin', and pairt I happened to light upon this mornin' when I wastakin' a bit walk through the camp with my lantern. "

Grimond spread out a fairly generous breakfast of half a fowl, a pieceof ham, some excellent cheese, with good white bread and a bottle ofwine, and held the lantern that his master might eat with somecomfort, if it had to be with more haste. 

"Do you ken, Jock, where I was when you wakened me, and flashed thelight upon my face? Away in bonnie Glen Ogilvie, where everything isat its best to-day. I dreamed that I was off to Sidlaw Hill, to seewhat was doing with the muir-fowl, and I felt the good Scots airblowing upon my face. This is a black wakening, Jock, but I've sleptworse, and you have done well for breakfast. Ye never came honestly byit, man. Have ye been raiding?"

"Providence guided me, Maister John, and I micht have given a littleassistance mysel'. As I was crossing thro' a corner of the Dutch camp, I caught a glimpse of this roast chuckie, with some other bits o'things, and it cam into my mind that that was somebody's breakfast. Whether he had taken all he wanted or whether he was going to be toolate was-na my business, but the Lord delivered that fowl into myhands, and I considered it a temptin' o' Providence no to tak it, tosay nothin' o' the white bread. The wine and the ham I savit fraeyesterday. "

"You auld thief, I might have guessed where you picked up thebreakfast. I only hope 'twas a heavy-built Dutchman who could starvefor a week without suffering, and not a lean, hungry Scot who neededsome breakfast to put strength in him for a day's fighting, if God begood enough to send it. Isn't it a regiment of the Scots brigade whichis lying next to us, Jock?"

"It is, " replied that worthy servitor, "and I was hopin' that it wasCaptain MacKay's rations which were given into my hands, so to say, bythe higher power. I was standing behind you, Maister John, last nichtwhen you and him was argling-bargling, and if ever I saw a cunningtwa-faced Covenanter, it's that man. They say he has got a good wordwith the Prince through his Dutch wife, and where ye give that kind ofman an inch, he will take an ell. It's no for me to give advice, mebein' in my place and you in yours. But I promised your honorablemither that I wouldna see you come to mischief if I could help it, andI am sair mistaken if yon man will no be a mercilous and persistentenemy. May the Almichty forbid it, but if MacKay of Scourie can hinderit there will be little advancement for Graham of Claverhouse in thisarmy. "

"You are a dour and suspicious devil, Jock, and you've always been thesame ever since I remember you. Captain MacKay is a whig and aPresbyterian, but he is a good soldier, and I wish I had been morecivil to him last night. We are here to fight for the Prince ofOrange and to beat the French, and let the best man win; it will betime enough to quarrel when we get back to Scotland. Kindly Scotsshould bury their differences, and stand shoulder to shoulder in aforeign land. "

"That is bonnie talk, laird, but dinna forget there's been twa kindsof Scot in the land since the Reformation, and there will be twa tothe end of the chapter, and they'll never agree till the day ofjudgment, and then they'll be on opposite sides. There was Queen Maryand there was John Knox, there was that false-hearted loon Argyle, that ye gave a grand nip at the fire last nicht, and there was thehead o' your hoose, the gallant Marquis--peace to his soul. Nowthere's the Carnegies and the Gordons and the rest o' the royalfamilies in the Northeast, and the sour-blooded Covenanters down inthe West, and it's no in the nature o' things that they shouldagree any more than oil and water. As for me, the very face of aPresbyterian whig makes me sick. But there's the trumpet again, "and Grimond helped his master to put on his arms. 

"I've been awfu favored this mornin', Maister John, for what div yethink? I've secured nae less than a baggage waggon for oorsels. Thedriver was stravagin' aboot in the dark and didna know where he wasgoing, so I asked him if he wasna coming for the baggage of theEnglish gentlemen, to say naething of a Scots gentleman. When he wastrying to understand me, and I was trying to put some sense into him, up comes Mr. Carlton, and I explained the situation to him. He toldthe driver in his own language that I would guide him to the spot, andme and the other men are packing the whole of the gentlemen's luggageand ane or twa comforts in the shape of meat and bedding which thefools round about us didna seem to notice, or were going to leave. That waggon, Mr. John, is a crownin' mercy, and I'm to sit beside thedriver, and it will no be my blame if there's no a tent and a supperwherever Providence sends us this nicht. " And Jock went off in greatfeather to look after his acquisition, while his master joined hiscomrades of the Prince's guard. 

As the day rapidly breaks, they find themselves passing from the levelinto a broken country. The ground is rising, and in the distance theycan see defiles through which the army must make its way. Thevanguard, as they learn from one of the Prince's aides-de-camp, iscomposed of the Imperial corps commanded by Count Souches, and must bythis time be passing through the narrows. In front are the Dutchtroops, who are under the immediate command of the Commander-in-Chief, the Prince of Orange. The English volunteers being the next to thePrince's regiment of Guards, followed close upon the main body of thearmy, and behind them trailed the long, cumbrous baggage train. Therear-guard, together with some details of various kinds and nations, consisted of the Spanish division, which was commanded by PrinceVaudemont. As they came to higher ground Claverhouse began to see thelie of the country, and to express his fears to Carlton. 

"I don't know how you judge things, " said Claverhouse, "but I wouldnot be quite at my ease if I were his Highness of Orange, in commandof the army, and with more than one nation's interest at stake, instead of a poor devil of a volunteer, with little pay, lessreputation, and no responsibility. If we were marching across a plainand could see twenty miles round, or if there were no enemy withinstriking reach, well, then this were a pleasant march from Neville toBinch, for that is where I'm told we are going. But, faith, I don'tlike the sight of this country in which we are being entangled. IfCondé has any head, and he is not a fool, he could arrange a fineambuscade, and catch those mighty and vain-glorious Imperialists andthat fool Souches like rats in a trap. Or he might make a suddenattack on the flank and cut our army into two, as you divide acaterpillar crawling along the ground. "

"The General knows what he is about, no doubt, " replies Carlton withtrue English phlegm; "he has made his plan, and I suppose the cavalryhave been scouting. It's their business who have got the command toarrange the march and the attack, and ours to do the fighting. It willbe soon enough for us to arrange the tactics when we get to begenerals. What say you to that, Mr. Graham? There's no sign of theenemy at any rate, and Souches must be well in through the valley. "

"No, " said Graham, "there are no Frenchmen to be seen, but they may bethere behind the hill on our right, and quick enough to showthemselves when the time comes. Oh! I like this bit of country, for itminds me of the Braes of Angus, and I hate a land where all is flatand smooth. By heaven! what a chance there is for any commander whoknows how to use a hill country. See ye here, comrade, suppose thiswas Scotland, and this were an army of black Whigs, making their wayto do some evil work after their heart's desire against their King andChurch, and I had the dealing with them. All I would ask would be acouple of Highland clans and a regiment of loyal gentlemen, well-mounted and armed. I would wait concealed behind yon wood upthere near the sky-line till those Imperialists were fairly up theglen and out of sight and the Dutch were plodding their way in. ThenI'd launch the Highlanders, sword in hand, down the slope of thathill, and cut off the rear-guard, and take the baggage at a swoop, andin half an hour the army would be disabled and the third part of itput out of action. "

"What about the Imperial troops and the Dutch, my General?" saidCarlton, much interested in Claverhouse's plan of battle. "You can'ttake an army in detachments just as you please. "

"You can with Highlanders and cavalry, and then having struck yourblow retire as quickly as you came. Faith, there would be no optionabout the retiring with your Highlanders; when they got hold of thebaggage they would do nothing more. After every man had lifted as muchas he could carry, he would make for the hills and leave the othertroops to do as they pleased. An army of Highlanders is quicklygathered and quickly dispersed, and the great point of attraction isthe baggage. Condé has no Highlanders, the worse for him and thebetter for us, but he has plenty of light troops--infantry as well ascavalry--and if he doesn't take this chance he ought to be dischargedwith disgrace. But see there, what make you of that, Carlton?"

"What and where?" said Carlton, looking in the direction Claverhousepointed. "I see the brushwood, and it may be that there are troopsbehind, but my eyes cannot detect them. "

"Watch a moment that place where the leaves are darker and thicker, and that tree stands out; you can catch a glitter, just an instant, and then it disappears. What do you say to that?"

"By the Lord!" cried Carlton, who was standing in his stirrups andshading his eyes with his hand, "it's the glitter of a breastplate. There's one trooper at any rate in that wood, and if there is onethere may be hundreds. What think you?"

"What I've been expecting for hours. Those are the videttes of theFrench army, and they have been watching us all the time our vanguardwas passing. I'll stake a year's rental of the lands of Claverhousethat if we could see on the other side of that hill we would findCondé's troops making ready for an attack. "

"I will not say but that you are right, and I don't like the situationnor feel as comfortable as I did half an hour ago. Do you think thatthe general in command knows of this danger, or has heard that theFrench outposts are so near?"

"If you ask me, Mr. Carlton, I would say that those Dutch officersdon't know that there is a Frenchman within ten miles; they are goodat drill, and steady in battle, but their minds are as heavy as theirbodies. Their idea of fighting is to deploy according to a book ofdrill on a parade ground; you cannot expect men who live on the flatto understand hills. That wood, " and Claverhouse was looking at thehill intently, "is simply full of men and horses, and within an hour, and perhaps less, you will see a pretty attack. Aren't we at theirmercy?" Claverhouse pointed forward to the crest of a little hill overwhich the Dutch brigade were passing in marching formation, andbackward to the lumbering train of baggage-wagons. 

"'Whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad, ' is a Latinproverb I picked up at St. Andrew's University, and one of the fewscraps of knowledge I carried away from the good old place. They mightat least have thrown out some of our cavalry on the right to draw firefrom that wood, and enable us to find their position. It's not overlypleasant to jog quietly along as if one were riding up the Carse ofGowrie to Perth fair, when it's far more likely we are riding into theshambles like a herd of fat bullocks going to Davie Saunders, theDundee butcher. "

"See you here, friend, " cried Carlton, "I am not in a mind to be takenat a disadvantage and ridden down by those Frenchmen when we are notin formation. They have us at a disadvantage in any case, but, by mylife, we ought at any rate to deploy to the right, and seize thathigher ground, or else they will send us into that marshland that Isee forward there on the left. If they do, there will be some throatscut, and it might be yours or mine. What say you, Mr. Graham, to rideforward and tell one of the officers in attendance on his Highnesswhat we have seen, and then let them do as they please?"

"I have nothing to say against that, but I know one man who will notgo, and that is John Graham of Claverhouse. It may be vain pride, orit may not, but I will not have the shame of telling my tale to oneof those Dutchmen as if you were speaking to a painted monument, andthen have him order you back to your place as if you were a mutineer;my hand would be itching for the sword-handle before all was done, andso I'll just be doing. But I will be ready when the cloud breaks fromyon hill, and it's not far off the bursting now. " And Graham pointedout that the glitter was repeated at several points, as when the sunis reflected from broken dishes on a hillside. 

"You Scots are a proud race, " laughed Carlton, "and quick to takeoffence. We English have a temper, too, but we are nearer to thoseDutchmen in our nature. I'll not see the army ambuscaded without awarning. If they take it we shall make a better fight, and for thefirst hour it will be bad enough anyway till the vanguard are broughtback, and if they won't take it, why, we have done our duty, and wewill have to look after ourselves. " And Carlton spurred his horse andcantered forward to where the headquarters staff were riding with thetroop which was called the Scots brigade, because it was largelyofficered and to some extent manned by Scotsmen, and in which MacKayhad a captain's commission. 

In some fifteen minutes Carlton rejoined Claverhouse red and annoyed, and on the sight of him Claverhouse laughed. 

"Without offence, good comrade, I take it you have not been thankedfor your trouble or been promised promotion. Sworn at, I dare say, ifthose godly Dutchmen are allowed to rap out an oath. At any rate youhave been told to attend to your own work and leave our wise generalsto manage theirs, eh?"

"You are right, Graham. I wish I had bitten off my tongue rather thanreported the matter. I got hold of an aide-de-camp, and I pointed outwhat we had seen, and he spoke to me as if I was a boy with my heartin my mouth for fear I would be shot every minute. For a set ofpig-headed fools----"

"Well, it would not have mattered much, for the news, as it happened, would have come too late. See, the attack has begun; whatever be theissue of the battle before night, it will be one way or another withus within an hour. " As he spoke Claverhouse began to put himself inorder, seeing that his pistols were ready in the holsters, his swordloose in the scabbard, and the girths of his saddle tight. 

"It will be a sharp piece of work for us, and some good sword playbefore it is done. "

Suddenly from the wood a line of cavalry emerged, followed byanother and still another, till at least three regiments were onthe side of the hill, and behind them it was evident there was alarge body of troops. By this time the staff had taken alarm, andan officer had galloped up with orders that the English volunteersand Dutch cavalry should deploy to the right, and orders were alsosent to the Spaniards in the rear to advance rapidly and cover thebaggage. The Dutch troops in front who had entered the defile werearrested, and began to march back, and an urgent message was sentto the Imperialists to follow the Dutch in case the French shouldmake a general attack. Before the Dutch troops had returned to theopen, and long before the Imperialists could be in action, theFrench, crossing the hill with immense rapidity and covered by ascreen of cavalry, attacked the Spanish rear-guard before it wasable to take up a proper form of defence, and though the Spaniardsfought with their accustomed courage, and no blame could beattached to the dispositions made in haste by Vaudemont, thisdivision of the army was absolutely routed, and one distinguishedSpanish general, the Marquis of Assentar, was killed when cheering hismen to the defence. The defeat of the Spaniards left the baggagetrain unprotected, and the French troops fell upon it with greatzest: indeed, Claverhouse that night declared that the Highlandersthemselves could not have raided more heartily or more swiftly. Nordid the Spaniards, when once they had been beaten and scattered, and fighting was no longer of any use, disdain to help themselves tothe plunder. Grimond was furious as he saw his wagon in danger, andendeavored to rally some odds and ends of flying Spaniards andterrified wagon-drivers to defend his cherished possessions. But hewas left to do so himself, and after beating off the two firstFrenchmen who came to investigate, and being wounded in a generalfight with the next lot, he was obliged to leave the possessions ofthe English volunteers to their fate and set off to discover how itfared with his master. 

The Battle of Sineffe was to last all day, and before evening the twoarmies would be generally engaged; eighteen thousand men were to fallon both sides, and there were to be many hot encounters, but thesharpest took place at the centre and early in the day. The cavalrywith the English volunteers were thrown forward to hinder the advanceof the French cavalry who, while their infantry were dealing with theSpanish corps, were being hurled at the centre in order to cut thearmy in two and confine the Dutch troops to the defile, or if theyemerged from the defiles, to crush them before they could deploy onthe broken country. 

"Where do you take it is the point of conflict?" asked Carlton as theregiment of the guards with which they were serving went forward at asharp trot across the level ground, on which the French cavalry shouldsoon be appearing. "Where is his Highness himself, for I can get nosight of the rest of the Dutch cavalry?"

"To the left, I take it, where the fight has already begun. Do you nothear the firing? and I seem to catch some shouts, as if the Dutch andthe French were already meeting. Mind you, Carlton, his Highness mayhave been too confident and laid the army open to attack, but he cantell where the heart of the situation is, and his business will be toresist the French onslaught till the infantry are in position. Just asI thought, we are to go to his aid, and in ten minutes, or my name isnot Graham, we shall have as much as we want. "

In less than that space of time the regiment, now galloping, foundthemselves in the immediate rear of the fighting line, and opened outand prepared to advance. In front of them three regiments of Dutchcavalry were being beaten back by a French brigade, and just when theEnglish volunteers arrived the French received a large accession ofstrength, and the Dutch, broken and ridden down by weight of men andhorses, were driven back. It was in vain that their colonel orderedhis men to charge, for in fifty yards the mass of Dutch cavalry infront were thrown upon them and broke their line. It was now a man toman and hand to hand conflict for a few minutes, and Claverhouse, whenhe had disentangled himself from the hurly-burly, and forced his waythrough the mass, was in immediate conflict with a French officer infront of their line, whom he disarmed by a clever sword trick which hehad learned from a master of arms in the French service. A Frenchsoldier missed Claverhouse's head by a hair's-breadth, while he, swerving, struck down another on his right. Carlton had disappeared, Hales had been wounded, but in the end escaped with his life. Collierand Claverhouse were now in the open space behind the first line ofthe French cavalry, and they could see more than one Dutch officerand some of the Dutch troopers also in the same dangerous position. Graham was considering what to do when he caught sight, a shortdistance off on the left, of a figure he seemed to know: it was anofficer riding slowly along the line as if in command, and taking noheed of the many incidents happening round him. 

"Collier, " cried Graham, "see you who that is among the Frenchsoldiers alone and at their mercy? As I am a living man it is thePrince himself. Good God! how did he get there, and what is he goingto do?"

While Graham was speaking the Prince of Orange, who was now quiteclose to him, but gave no sign that he recognized him, suddenly threwout an order in French to the regiment behind which he was riding, andwhich was hewing its way through a mass of Dutch. He called on them tohalt and reform, and their officers supposing him to be one of theirgenerals who had arrived from headquarters, set to work to extricatetheir men from the mêlée. The Prince passed with the utmost coolnessthrough their line as if to see what was doing in front, whileClaverhouse and Collier followed him as if they were attached. As soonas he had got to the open space in front, for what remained of theDutch were in rapid retreat, and were scattering in all directions, he put spurs to his horse, and shouting to Claverhouse and Collier tofollow rapidly, for his trick had already been detected, he gallopedforward to the place where the crowd of fugitives was thinnest, thathe might as soon as possible rejoin his staff and resume command whenabove all times a general was needed. A French officer, however, hadrecognized him as he passed through the line, and now with some dozensoldiers was pursuing at full speed. The Prince's horse had beenwounded in two places and was also blown with exertion, and passingover some marshy ground had not strength to clear it, but plungedhelplessly in the soft soil. In two minutes, the French would havebeen upon them and made the greatest capture of the war. Claverhouse, leaping off his horse, asked the Prince to mount, who, instantly andwithout more than a nod, sprang into the saddle and escaped when theFrenchmen were within a few yards. Claverhouse fired at the Frenchofficer and missed him, but brought down his horse, which did just aswell, and Collier sent his sword through the shoulder of the Frenchsoldier who followed next. Claverhouse, seizing this minute of delay, ran with all his might for a hedge, over which dismounted stragglerswere climbing in hot haste, and made for the nearest gap. It wasblocked by a tall and heavily-built Dutch dragoon, who could neitherget through nor back, and was swearing fearfully. 

[Illustration: Claverhouse fired at the French officer and missed him, but brought down his horse. Page 49. ]

"It's maist awfu' to see a Christian man misusing the Lord's mercieslike that, " and at the sound of that familiar voice Claverhouse turnedto find Grimond by his side, who had been out in the hope of findinghis master, and had certainly come to his aid at the right time. 

"Would onybody but a blunderin' fool of a Dutchman think of blockin' apassage when the troops are in retreat? If we canna get through him, we had better get ower him. I've helped ye across a dyke afore, Maister John, and there ye go. " Claverhouse, jumping on Grimond, whomade a back for him, went over the Dutchman's shoulders. Then heseized the Dutchman by his arm, while Grimond acted as a battering-rambehind: so they pulled what remained of him, like a cork out of themouth of a bottle, and Grimond followed his master. Collier, who hadbeen covering the retreat, left his horse to its fate, and ran by thesame convenient gap. 

"To think o' the perversity o' that Dutchman obstructin' a right o'way, especially on sich a busy day, wi' his muckle unmannerlycarcase, as if he had been a Highland cattle beast. Dod! he would makea grand Covenanter for the cursed thrawnness o' him. "

That night when the English volunteers, who had all escaped with someslight wounds and the loss of their baggage, were going over the day'swork, an officer attached to the Prince asked if a Scots gentlemancalled Mr. Graham was present. When Claverhouse rose and saluted him, the officer said, with the curt brevity of his kind, "His Highnessdesires your presence, " and immediately turned and strode off in thedirection of the headquarters, while Claverhouse, shrugging hisshoulders, followed him in his usual leisurely fashion. On arriving atthe farm-house where the Prince had gone after the French had retired, Graham was immediately shown into his room. The Prince, rising andreturning Claverhouse's respectful salutation, gave him one long, searching glance, and then said: "You did me a great service to-day, and saved my person from capture, perhaps my life from death. I do notforget any man who has done me good, and who is loyal to me. What youdesire at my hands I do not know, and what it would be best to do foryou I do not yet know. If you determine after some experience toremain in my service, and if you show yourself the good soldier Itake you to be, you will not miss promotion. That is all I will sayto-night, for I know not where your ambitions may lie. " The Princelooked coldly at Graham's love-locks and Cavalier air. "Your cause maynot be my cause. I bid you good-evening, Mr. Graham. We shall meetagain. "

CHAPTER III

A DECISIVE BLOW

"You have the devil's luck, Graham, " said Rooke, who had taken a mealfit for two men, and now had settled down to smoke and drink for theevening. "To get the best place in the attack to-day on the town, andto escape with nothing more than a cat scratch, which will not hurtyour beauty, is more than any ordinary man can expect. There will besome hot work before Grave is taken, and plenty of good men will gettheir marching orders, " for the Prince and his troops were nowbesieging Grave keenly, and the English volunteers were messingtogether after an assault which had captured some of the outworks. 

"I would lay you what you like, Rooke, " drawled Venner, "if I were nota Puritan, and didn't disapprove of drinking and gambling and otherworks of Satan, that Chamilly will come to terms within fourteen days. He has no stomach for those mortars that are playing on the place, andhe knows that Orange, having got his teeth in, will never take themout. Another assault like to-day will settle the matter. Graham hereused to say that his Highness was an icicle, but I judge him a goodfighting man. You will get as much as you want if you follow thePrince. Ballantine that's gone to-day always said that there was nosoldier in Europe he would put before the Prince. Speaking about that, who, think you, will get the place of lieutenant-colonel in the ScotsBrigade in succession to Sir William?"

"Don't know, and don't care, " said Collier, stretching himself andyawning. "It will go to some officer of the Scots Brigade, and thoughI am a born Scot, nobody remembers that, and I pass for an Englishman. And to tell the truth, I'm happier with you volunteers than amongthose canny Scots; they are as jealous and as bigoted as a RoundheadConventicle, and I don't envy the man who gets promotion among them. But it doesn't concern any of us. "

"There I differ with you, comrade, " broke in Carlton. "You seem tohave forgotten that one of our good company is not only a Scot, but has done the Prince priceless service. I make little doubt thatwe shall hear news in twenty-four hours. We are proud to have Mr. Graham with us, for he is a good comrade and a good soldier, but Iexpect to-morrow to drink a flask of wine to his commission aslieutenant-colonel. What say you to my idea?"

"If promotion went by merit, I'm with you, Carlton; but, faith, itgoes by everything else, and specially back-door influence. A man getshis step, not because he is a good soldier, but because he has got afriend at court, or he is the same religion as the general, or I haveheard cases where it went by gold. "

"That such things are done, Rooke, I will not deny, but they say thatpromotion goes fairly where his Highness commands; he has an eye for agood soldier, and you have forgotten that he would not be in his placeto-day had it not been for our comrade's help. "

"I remember that quite well, and I wish to God other people mayremember, for Graham ran a pretty good chance of closing his life thatday and never seeing Scotland again, but Princes have short memories. If Charles II. Of sainted character had called to his mind that mygrandfather, more fool he, melted all his plate and lost all his land, to say nothing of three or four sons, for the Stuart cause, I wouldnot be a gentleman volunteer in this army without a spare gold piecein my pocket. Kings bless you at the time with many pretty words, andthen don't know your face next time you meet; but I wish you goodluck, Graham, and I drink your health. What think you yourself?"

"What I ought to think, gentlemen, is that I am much honored to haveyour good opinion and your friendly wishes. " And Graham gathered themall with a smile that gave his delicate and comely features a rarefascination. "You are true comrades as well as brave gentlemen. I willnot deny, though I would only say it among my friends, that I havethought of that vacancy, and have wondered whether the appointmentwould come my way. I received, indeed, a private word to apply for itthis evening, but that I will not do. The Prince knows what I havedone, though I do not make so much of saving his life as you maythink. If he is pleased to give me this advance, well, gentlemen, Ihope I shall not bring disgrace upon the Scots Brigade. But let uschange the subject. We be a barbarous people in the North, but afterall a gentleman does not love to talk about his own doings, still lessof his own glory. To bed, my comrades, we may have heavy workto-morrow. "

The Prince gave his troops a day's rest, and left the artillery to dotheir work, and Claverhouse was reading for the sixth time someletters of his mother's, when Grimond came in with the air of a manfull of news, but determined not to tell them until he was questioned, and even then to give what he had grudgingly and by way of favor. 

"What news, did ye say, Mr. John? Weel, if ye mean from Scotland, yehave the last yersel' in the letters of your honorable mither. What Iam hearing from some Scot that cam oot o' the west country is that ifthe council does na maister the Covenanters, the dear carles willmaister them, and then Scotland will be a gey ill place to live in. Itwill be a fine sicht when you and me, Claverhouse, has to sign theSolemn League and Covenant, and hear Sandy Peden, that they call aprophet, preachin' three hours on the sins o' prelacy and dancin'. Mycertes!" And at the thought thereof Grimond lost the power of speech. 

"Never mind Scotland, Jock, just now; the auld country will take careof herself till we go home, and then we'll give such assistance as inthe power of a good sword. Who knows, man, but we'll be riding throughthe muirs of Ayrshire after something bigger than muir-fowl beforemany years are over? But the camp, man, what's going on here thismorning, and what are the folk talking about, for, as ye know, I'vebeen on the broad of my back after yesterday's work?"

"If ye mean by news, laird, what wasna expected, and that, I'mjudging, is a correct definition o' news, there's naethin' worthmentionin'. A dozen more Scots have come to get their livin' or theirdeath, as Providence wills, in a foreign army, instead of workingtheir bit o' land on a brae-side in bonnie Scotland. But that's nonews, for it has been goin' on for centuries, and I'm expectin' willlast as long as thae foreign bodies need buirdly men and Scotland hasa cold climate. 

"They are saying, I may mention, that Chamilly is getting sick o'these mortars, and didna particularly like the attack yesterday, andthe story is going about that he will soon ask for terms, and that ifhe gets the honors of war the Prince may have the town. It will beanother feather in his cap, and, to my thinkin', he has got ower manyfor his deservin'--an underhand and evil-hearted loon. " And Grimondspoke with such vehemence and a keen dislike that Claverhousesuspected he had heard something more important than he had told. 

"'Is that all?' ye ask, Claverhouse, and I reply no; but I wish togudeness that it was. If news be what has happened, even though someof us expected it, then I have got some, although I would rather thatmy tongue was blistered than tell it. It cam into my mind that thePrince micht be appointin' the new colonel to the Scots Brigade thismornin', and so I just happened to give a cry on an Angus man who isgettin' his bit livin' as a servant to one of the aides-de-camp. He iscalled a Dutchman, but has honest Scots blood in his veins. We haveredabout this and about that, and then I threipit (insisted) that hewould never hear onything that was goin' on, and, for example, that hewouldna know who was the new colonel. 'Div I no?' said Patrick Harris. 'Maybe I do, but maybe I wouldna be anxious to tell ye, Jock Grimond, for ye michtna be pleased. ' 'Pleased or no pleased, ' I said, 'let mehear his name. ' 'Well, ' he answered, 'if ye maun have it, it's no yourmaister that folk thought would get it. ' 'Then, ' said I, 'Patrick, Ijalouse who it is; it's MacKay of Scourie. ' 'It is, ' said Patrick. 'Iheard it when I was standin' close to the door, and I canna say thatI'm pleased. ' Naither was I, ye may depend upon it, Claverhouse, but Iwouldna give onybody the satisfaction of knowing what I thocht. So Ijust contented mysel' wi' sayin', 'Damn them baith, the are for anungrateful scoundrel, and the other for a plottin', schemin'hypocritical Presbyterian. I cam to tell ye, but no word would havepassed my lips if ye hadna chanced to ask me. "

"Jock, you've been a faithful man to the house of Graham for manyyears, " said Claverhouse, after a silence of some minutes, duringwhich Grimond busied himself polishing his master's arms, "and I willsay to you what I am not going to tell the camp, that you might havebrought better news. Whether I was right or wrong, man, I had set myheart upon succeeding Ballantine, and I was imagining that maybe thisvery afternoon I could write home to my mother and tell her that herson was a lieutenant-colonel in the good Scots Brigade. But it's allin the chances of war, and we must just take things as they come. Doye know, Jock, I often think I was born like the Marquis, under anunlucky star, and that all my life things will go ill with me, andwith my cause. I dinna think that I'll ever see old age, and I doubtwhether I'll leave an heir to succeed me. I dreamed one nicht that thewraith of our house stood beside my bed and said, 'Ye'll be cursed inlove and cursed in war, and die a bloody death at the hand oftraitors whom ye trusted. '"

"For God's sake, Maister John, dinna speak like that. " And Grimond'svoice, hard man though he was, was nigh the breaking. "It's no chancy, what ye say micht come to pass if ye believe it. Whatever the evilspirit said in the veesions o' the nicht--oh! my laddie, for laddie yehave been to me since I learned ye to ride your pony and fire yourfirst shot, ye mauna give heed or meddle wi' Providence. Ye have beenawfu' favored wi' the bonniest face ever I saw on a man, so thatthere's no a lass looks on ye but she loves ye, and the hardiest bodyever I kenned. Ye have the best blood of Scotland in your veins, and Inever saw ye fearful o' onything; ye have covered yersel' wi' glory inthis war, and I prophesy there will be a great place waiting you inthe North country. There's no a noble lady in Scotland that wouldna bewilling to marry you, and I'm expectin' afore I die to see you famousas the great Marquis himsel', wi' sons and daughters standin' roundye. I ken aboot the wraith o' the house o' Graham, a maleecious andlying jade. If she ever comes to ye again by nicht or day, bid herbegone to the evil place in the name o' the Lord wha redeemed us. "

"You're a trusty friend, Grimond, for both my mother and myself countyou more friend than servant, and you've spoken good words; but I takeit this day's happenings are an omen of what is coming. Maybe I amower young to take black views o' hidden days, but ye'll mindafterwards, Jock Grimond, when ye wrap me in a bloody coat for burial, for there will be no shroud for me, that I said the shadow began tofall at the siege of Grave. But there's no use complaining, man; ourcup is mixed, and we must drink it, bitter or sweet. Aye, the Grahamsare a doomed house, and we maun dree oor weird (suffer our destiny). "

"Weird, " broke out Grimond, with a revulsion from pathos to anger. "Yespeak as if it were the will o' the Almichty, but I am thinkin' thething was worked from another quarter. Providence had very little handin it, unless ye call Captain Hugh MacKay Providence, and in that caseit'll be true what some folks say, that the devil rules the world. From all I can gather, and I keep my ears open when you are concerned, laird, I am as sure as you are Laird of Claverhouse that Scourie, confoond his smooth face, has been plottin' aginst ye ever since yesat that nicht afore the Battle of Sineffe roond the camp-fire. I sawhow he looked, and I said to mysel', 'You're up to some mischief. ' Hisparty hangit the noble Marquis and plagued him wi' their prayers onthe scaffold, and it is as natural for a Covenanter to hate a Grahamas to eat his breakfast. MacKay saw we were dangerous, and ye'll bemore dangerous yet, Claverhouse, to the black crew. He has been up theback stairs tellin' lies aboot ye, and sayin' that though many trustye, for a' that ye are an enemy to Presbytery. Ye'll have your chanceyet, laird, and avenge the murder o' the Marquis, but there'll be noplace for ye here so long as MacKay is pourin' the poison o' asps, asauld David has it, into the Prince's ear. "

"Na, na, Mr. John, " concluded Grimond when his master had remonstratedwith him for speaking against the Prince and an officer of the army, and warned him to be careful of his tongue, "ye needna be feart that aword o' this will be heard ootside. I mind the word in the Good Book, 'Speak not against the King, lest a bird of the air carry the matter. 'There's plenty o' birds in this camp that would be glad enough to workus wrang. Gin onybody speaks to me aboot Captain MacKay being made acolonel, I'll give him to understand that my master was offered thepost and declined to take it for special reasons o' his own; maybebecause ye wanted to stay wi' the gentlemen volunteers, and maybebecause there was a grand position waitin' for ye in Scotland. Let mealone, laird, for makin' the most o' the situation: but dinna forgetMacKay. "

Claverhouse was of another breed from Grimond, and had the chivalrousinstincts of his house, but as the time wore on and Graham went withthe Prince's guards after the surrender of Grave to The Hague, whereColonel MacKay and the Scots Brigade were also stationed, the constantspray of insinuations of MacKay's cunning and the Prince's prejudicebegan to tell upon his mind. He was conscious of a growing disliketowards MacKay, beyond that coolness which must always exist betweenmen of such different religious and political creeds. It was atradition among the Scots Royalists from the days of Montrose that theWhig Highlanders, such as the Campbells, were cunning and treacherous, and then it was right to admit that MacKay might think himselfjustified in warning the Prince of Orange, who was surrounded byPresbyterians, and already coming under the masterful influence ofCarstairs, the minister of the Presbyterian Church, and afterwardsWilliam's most trusted councillor, that Graham belonged to athoroughgoing and dangerous Cavalier house, and that it would not bewise to show him too much favor. Although they were fellow-soldiers, and had met in camp life from time to time, they had never beenanything more than distant acquaintances. Now it seemed to Claverhousethat MacKay looked at him more coldly than ever, and that he hadcaught a triumphant expression in his eye. MacKay was getting upon hisnerves, and he had come to hate the sight of him. As a matter of fact, and as Claverhouse granted to himself afterwards, while MacKay was nothis friend and could not be, he had never said a word against him tothe Prince, and if he had used no influence for him, had never triedto hinder his promotion. The day was coming when Claverhouse wouldacknowledge that though MacKay was on the wrong side, he had conductedhimself as became a man of blood and a brave soldier. In those days atThe Hague, disappointed about promotion, and with evil news fromScotland, to say nothing of Grimond ever at his elbow goading andinflaming him through his very loyalty, Claverhouse allowed himself tofall into an unworthy and inflammatory temper. When one is in thismorbid state of mind, he may at any moment lose self-control, and itwas unfortunate that, after a long tirade one morning from Grimond, who professed to have new evidence of MacKay's underhand dealing, Claverhouse should have met his supposed enemy in the precincts of thePrince's house. MacKay was going to wait upon the Prince, and waspassing hurriedly with a formal salutation, when Claverhouse, who inthis very haste found ground of offence, stood in the way. 

"May I have the honor, if you be called not immediately to thePrince's presence, to wish you good-morning, Colonel MacKay, and tosay, for it is better to give to a man's face what one is thinkingbehind his back, that, although I have not the satisfaction ofspeaking much with you, I hear you are busy enough speaking aboutme. "

"If we do not meet much, Claverhouse, " replied MacKay, with a look ofsurprise on his calm and composed face, "this is not my blame, anddoubtless it may be counted my loss. It is only that our duties lieapart and we keep different company. I know not what you mean by yourcharge against me, which, I take it, comes to this, that I have saidevil of you to some one, I know not whom, and in some place I know notwhere. Is that why you have been avoiding me, and even looking at meas if I were your enemy? My time is short, but this misunderstandingbetween gentlemen can surely be quickly cleared. I pray you of yourcourtesy, explain yourself and give your evidence. "

"No doubt you have little time, and no doubt you will soon be busywith the same work. You were born of a good house, though it has takenan evil road in these days; you know the rules by which a man of bloodshould guide his life, and the things it were a shame for him to do, even to the man he may have to meet on the battle ground. Is itfitting, Scourie, to slander a fellow-officer to his commander, and soto pollute his fountain of influence that he shall not receive hisjust place? You have asked what I have against you; now I tell you, and I am ashamed to bring so foul an accusation against a Scotsgentleman. "

"Is that the cause of your black looks and secret ill-will?" AndMacKay was as cold as ever, and gave no sign that he had been stirredby this sudden attack. "In that case I can remove your suspicion, andprevent any breach between two Scots officers who may not be on thesame side in their own country, but who serve the same Prince in thisland. Never have I once, save in some careless and passing reference, spoken about you with the Prince, and never have I, and I say it onthe honor of a Highland gentleman, said one word against you as a manor as a soldier. You spoke of evidence. What is your evidence? Who hastold you this thing, which is not true? Who has tried to set you onfire against me?"

"It is not necessary, Colonel MacKay, to produce any witness or to quoteany saying of yours. The facts are known to all the army; they haveseen how it has fared with you and with me. I will not say whether Ihad not some claim to succeed Ballantine as lieutenant-colonel inthe Scots Brigade, and I will not argue whether you or I had done mostfor his Highness. I have not heard that you saved his life, or that hepromised to show his gratitude. I will not touch further on thatpoint, but how is it, I ask you, that since that day, though I had myshare of fighting at the siege of Grave and elsewhere as ye know, thereis no word of advance for me? If you can read this riddle to me andkeep yourself out of it, why then I shall be willing to take your handand count you, Presbyterian though you be, an honest man. "

"Why ask those questions of me, especially as ye seem to doubt myword, Captain Graham?" And for the first time MacKay seemed stung bythe insinuation of dishonorable conduct. "If you will pardon myadvice, would it not be better that you go yourself to the Prince andask him if any man has injured you with him, and how it is you havenot received what you consider your just reward?"

"That is cheap counsel, Hugh MacKay, and mayhap you gave it becauseyou knew it would not be taken. Never will I humble myself before thatwooden image, never will I ask as a favor what should be given as myright. It were fine telling in Scotland that John Graham ofClaverhouse was waiting like a beggar upon a Dutch Prince. I wouldrather that the liars and the plotters whom he makes his friendsshould have the will of me. "

MacKay's face flushes for an instant to a fiery red, and then turnsghastly pale, and without a word he is going on his way, butClaverhouse will not let him. 

"Will nothing rouse your blood and touch your honor? Must I do thisalso?" And lifting his cane he struck MacKay lightly upon the breast. "That, I take it, will give a reason for settling things between us. Mr. Collier will, I make no doubt, receive any officer you arepleased to send within an hour, and I will give you the satisfactionone gentleman desires of another before the sun sets. "

"You have done me bitter wrong, Captain Graham. " And MacKay wastrembling with passion, and putting the severest restraint upon histemper, which had now been fairly roused. "But I shall not do wrongagainst my own conscience. When I took up the honorable service ofarms, I made a vow unto myself and sealed it in covenant with God thatI would accept no challenge nor fight any duel. It is enough that theblood of our enemies be on our souls. I will not have the guilt of afellow-officer's death, or risk my own life in a private quarrel. Ipray you let me pass. "

"It is your own life you are concerned about, Colonel MacKay, "answered Claverhouse, with an evil smile full of contempt, and inthe quietest of accents, for he had resumed his characteristiccomposure, "your own precious life, which you desire to keep insafeguard. " Then, turning with a graceful gesture to some officers whohad been passing and been arrested by the altercation, Claverhousesaid with an air of careless languor: "May I have the strangeprivilege never given me before, and perhaps never to be mineagain, of introducing you, by his leave or without it, to a Scotwhom no one can deny is by birth a gentleman, and whom no one candeny now is also a coward--Lieutenant-Colonel MacKay, of the Prince'sScots Brigade. "

CHAPTER IV

A CHANGE OF MASTERS

When his first fierce heat cooled, and Claverhouse had time forreflection, he was by no means so well satisfied with himself as hehad imagined he would be in the foresight of such a scene. For onething he had shown the soreness of his heart in not getting promotion, and had betrayed a watchful suspiciousness, which was hardly includedin a chivalrous character. He had gone out of his way to insult afellow-Scot, and a fellow-officer who had never pretended to be hisfriend, and who was in no way bound to advance his interest, because, to put it the worst, MacKay had secured his own promotion and not thatof Claverhouse. As regards MacKay's courage, it had been proved onmany occasions, and to call him a coward was only a childish offence, as if one flung mud upon a passer-by. When Claverhouse reviewed hisconduct, and no man was more candid in self-judgment, he confessed tohimself that he had played an undignified part, and was bitterlychagrined. The encounter, of course, buzzed through the camp, andevery man gave his judgment, many justifying Captain Graham, anddeclaring that he had shown himself a man of mettle--they were theyounger and cruder minds--many censuring him for his insolent ambitionand speaking of him as a brawling bravo--they were some of the staidand stronger minds. His friends, he noticed, avoided the subject andleft him to open it if he pleased, but he gathered beforehand that hewould not receive much sympathy from that figure of common-senseCarlton, nor that matter-of-fact soldier Rooke, and that theex-Puritan Venner would only make the incident a subject of satiricalmoralizing. With another disposition than that which Providence hadbeen pleased to give John Graham, the condemnation of his betterjudgment, confirmed by the judgment of sound men, would have led himto the manly step of an apology which would have been humiliating tohis pride, but certainly was deserved at his hands. Under thedomination of his masterful pride, which was both the strength and theweakness of Graham's character, making him capable of the mostabsolute loyalty, and capable of the most inexcusable deeds, a prideno friend could guide, and no adversity could break, Claverhouse fellinto a fit of silent anger with himself, with MacKay, with his absentcritics, with the Prince. It was also in keeping with his nature to bethat afternoon gayer than usual--recalling the humorous events ofearly days with Grimond, who could hardly conceal the satisfaction hedared not express, treating every man he met with the most graciouscourtesy, smiling approval of the poorest jest, and proposing healthsand drinking national toasts that evening with his friends as ifnothing had happened, and no care heavier than thistledown lay uponhis mind. But Claverhouse knew that the incident was not closed, andhe was not surprised when an officer attached to the Prince's personcalled at his lodging and commanded his presence at the Prince's housenext morning. He was aware that in striking MacKay and challenging himto a duel he had infringed a strict law, which forbade such deedswithin the Royal grounds. 

William of Orange was a younger man than when England knew him, andhe came as king to reign over what was ever to him a foreign people, as he was to them an unattractive monarch. He was a man of slightand frail body; of calm and passionless nature, capable as few menhave been of silence and reserve. His mind worked, as it were, invacuo, secluded from the atmosphere of tradition, prejudice, emotions, jealousies. It was free from moods and changes, clear, penetrating, determined, masterful. Against no man did he bear apersonal grudge, for that would have only deflected his judgment andembarrassed his action. For only two or three men had he anypersonal affection; that also might have affected the balance of hisjudgment and the freedom of his action. His courage was undeniable, his spirit of endurance magnificent, his military talents and hisgift of statesmanship brilliant. Perhaps, on the whole, his mostvaluable characteristic qualities were self-control and a spirit ofmoderation, which enabled him to warm his hands at other men's firesand to avoid the perils of extremes. His weakness was the gravityof his character, which did not attract the eye or inspire devotionin the ordinary man, and an inevitable want of imagination, whichprevented him entering into the feelings of men of a different caste. It would, indeed, have been difficult to find a more vivid contrastbetween the two men who faced each other in the Prince's room, andwho represented those two schools of thought which have ever beenin conflict in religion--reason and authority, and those two typesof character which have ever collided in life--the phlegmatic and theempassioned. 

"What, I pray you, is the reason of your conduct yesterday in theprecincts?" asked the Prince at once after formally acknowledgingClaverhouse's reverence. "I am informed upon good evidence that youwantonly insulted Lieutenant-Colonel MacKay of the Scots Brigade, andthat you invited him to a duel, and that when he, as became an officerof judgment and piety, as well as of high courage, declined to joinwith you in a foolish and illegal act, that you called him a coward. Have I been rightly informed?

"Then that point is settled as I expected, and in order that you maynot make any mistake on this matter I will add, though I am notobliged to do so, that Colonel MacKay did not condescend to informagainst you. The scandal was public enough to come from variousquarters, and now to my chief question, have you anything to say inyour defence?"

"Nothing, sir, " replied Claverhouse. "I judged that Colonel MacKay haddone me a personal injury for which I desired satisfaction in the waythat gentlemen give. He has a prudent dislike to risk his life, although I endeavored to quicken his spirit. And so I allowed him toknow what I thought of him, and some officers who overheard ourconversation seemed to have been so much pleased with my judgment thatthey carried it round the army. In this way I presume it came to yourHighness's ears. That is all, " concluded Graham with much sweetness ofmanner, "that I have to say. "

"It is what you ought to be ashamed to say, Mr. Graham, " said Williamseverely. "Neither of us are old men, but I take it you are older thanI am----"

"I am twenty-six years of age, may it please your Highness, "interpolated Claverhouse, "and have served in two armies. "

"We are, at any rate, old enough not to play the fool or carryourselves like headstrong boys. As regards your quarrel, I am given tounderstand that the cause lies not so much with your fellow-officer aswith your general. You are one of that large company who can be foundin all armies, who are disappointed because, in their judgment, promotion has not corresponded with their merits. Be good enough tosay if I do you an injustice? You are silent, then I am right. Andso, because another officer was promoted before you, you choose totake offence and try to put shame upon a gallant gentleman. Isthis"--the Prince inquired with a flavor of contempt--"how well-bornScots carry themselves in their own country?"

"Your Highness's reasoning, " replied Graham with elaborate deliberation, "has convinced me of my error, but I should like to make this plea, that if I had not been carried by a gust of passion in the parkyester-morning, I had not disputed with Colonel MacKay. It still seemsto me that he has been treated with over much kindness in this matter ofpromotion, in which--it may be their foolishness--soldiers are apt tobe jealous, and I have been in some degree neglected. But I mostfrankly confess that I have been in the wrong in doing what I did, since it was more your Highness's business than mine to have resentedthis quarrel. "

"What mean you by this word, for it has an evil sound?" But there wasnot a flush on William's pale, immovable face, and it was marvellousto see so young a Prince carry himself so quietly under the politescorn of Claverhouse's manner and the rising insolence of his speech. 

"As your Highness insists, it is my pleasure to make my poor meaningplain in your Highness's ears. If I know what happened, ColonelMacKay, reaching the highest quarter by the back stair, persuaded yourHighness to give him the colonelcy, although it in honor belonged toanother officer, and I submit to your Highness's judgment that it wasyou who should have flicked him with your cane. Colonel MacKay hasdone John Graham of Claverhouse less injury in disappointing him ofhis regiment, though it has been a grievous dash, than in inducingyour Highness to break your promise. " And Claverhouse, whose last wordhad fallen in smoothness like honey from the comb, and in venom likethe poison of a serpent, looked the Prince straight in the face andthen bowed most lowly. 

"You are, I judge, Captain Graham, recalling a certain happening atthe Battle of Sineffe, when you rendered important service to me, andit may be saved my life. If you conclude that this has been forgotten, or that a Prince has no gratitude, because you did not obtain theplace you coveted, then understand that you are wrong, and that withall your twenty-six years and your service in two armies, you areignorant of the principle on which an army should be regulated. Uponyour way of it, if any young officer, more raw in character than inyears, and not yet able to rule his own spirit, or to keep himselffrom quarrelling like a common soldier, should happen to be of use ina strait--I acknowledge the strait--to a king, his foolishness shouldbe placed in command of veteran officers and men. It were right torecompense him at the cost of the Prince, mayhap, but not at the costof gallant soldiers whom he was unfit to govern, because he could notgovern himself. "

Whether William was angry at Claverhouse's impertinence, or was nomore touched than the cliff by the spray from a wave, only hisintimates could have told, but in this conflict between the twotemperaments, the Prince was in the end an easy victor. If William hadno boiling point, Claverhouse, though as composed in manner as he wasafterwards to be cruel in action, had limits to his self-restraint. Asthe Prince suggested that, though two years older than himself, he wasa shallow-pated and self-conceited boy, who was ever looking after hisown ends, and when he was disappointed, kicked and struggled like achild fighting with its nurse; that, in fact, in spite of thinkinghimself a fine gentleman, he ought to know that he had neither sensenor manners, and was as yet unfit for any high place, Claverhouse'stemper gave way, and he struck with cutting words at the Prince. 

"What I intended to have said, but my blundering speech may not havereached your Highness's mind, is that if a Prince makes a promise ofreward to another man who has saved his life at the risk of his own, that Prince is bound to keep his word or to make some reparation. Andthere is a debt due by your Highness to a certain Scots officer whichhas not been paid. Is a Prince alone privileged to break his word?"

"You desire reparation, " answered the Prince more swiftly than usual, and with a certain haughty gesture, "and you shall have it before youleave my presence. For brawling and striking within our grounds, youare in danger of losing your right arm, and other men have been sopunished for more excusable doings. You have been complaining in apublic place that you have not obtained a regiment, as if it were yourdue, and you have charged your general with the worst of military sinsafter cowardice, of being a favorer. I bestow upon you what will bemore valuable to you than a regiment which you have not the capacityto command. I give you back your right arm, and I release you from theservice of my army. "

"May I ask your Highness to accept my most humble and profoundgratitude for sparing my arm, which has fought for your Highness, andif it be possible, yet deeper gratitude for releasing me from theservice of a Prince who does not know how to keep his word. Have Iyour Highness's permission to leave your presence, and to makearrangements for my departure from The Hague?"

Claverhouse spoke with an exaggerated accent of respect, but the wordswere so stinging that William's eyes, for an instant only, flashedfire, and the aide-de-camp in the room made a step forward as if toarrest the Scots officer. There was a pause, say, of fifteen seconds, which seemed an hour, and then the Prince ordered his aide-de-camp toleave the chamber, and William and Claverhouse stood alone. 

"You are a bold man, Mr. Graham, " said the Prince icily, "and I shouldnot judge you to be a wise one. It is not likely that you will ever beas prudent as you are daring, and I foresee a troubled career, whetherit be long or short, for you. 

"No man, royal or otherwise, has ever spoken to me as you have done;mayhap in the years before me, whether they be few or many, no onewill ever do so. As you know, for what you have said any other Princein my place would have you punished for the gravest of crimes on thepart of an officer against his commander. "

Claverhouse bowed, and looked curiously at the Prince, wonderingwithin himself what would follow. Was it possible that his Highnesswould lay aside for an hour the privilege of royalty and give himsatisfaction? Or was he merely to lecture him like the Calvinisticpreachers to whom his Highness listened, and then let him go withcontempt? Claverhouse's indignation had now given way to intellectualinterest, and he waited for the decision of this strong, calm man, who, though only a little more than a lad, had already the coolnessand dignity of old age. 

"Were I not a Prince, and if my creed of honor were different fromwhat it is, I should lay aside my Princedom, and meet you sword inhand, for I also, though you may not believe it, have the pride of asoldier, and it has been outraged by your deliberate insolence. Whether it was worthy of your courtesy to offer an insult to one whocannot defend himself, I shall leave to your own arbitrament, whenyou bethink yourself in other hours of this situation. I pray you besilent, I have not finished. My intention is to treat your words as ifthey had never been spoken. The officer in attendance has learnedbetter than to blaze abroad anything that happens in this place, andyou will do as it pleases yourself, and is becoming to your honor as agentleman. I have no fear of you. You are a brave man whatever elseyou be; you will do me the justice of believing I am another. "Claverhouse remembered this was the first moment that he had felt anykindness to the Prince of Orange. 

"My reason for dealing with you after this fashion is that you havesome cause to complain of injustice, and to think that the good helpyou gave has been forgotten, because I have not said anything nor doneanything. This is not so, for I have not been certain how I could bestrecompense you. When a moment ago I spoke of you as not fit forpromotion, I did you injustice, for, though there be some heat in you, there is far more capacity, and I take it you will have high commandsome day. " The last few words were spoken with a slight effort, andGraham, when in his better mood the most magnanimous of men, wassuddenly touched by the remembrance of the Prince's station andability, his courage and severity, and his grace in making this amendto one who had spoken rudely to him. Claverhouse would have responded, but was again silent in obedience to a sign from the Prince. 

"Let me say plainly, Mr. Graham, that you are a soldier whom anycommander will be glad to enroll for life service in his army, but"--and here his Highness looked searchingly at Graham as he hadonce done before--"I doubt whether your calling be in the Dutch armyor in any army that is of our mind or is likely to fight for ourcause. 

"It is not given to man to lift the veil that hides the future, but wecan reason with ourselves as to what is likely, and guide our courseby this faint light. I have advices from Scotland, and I know that theday will come, though it may not be yet, when there will be a greatdivision in that land and the shedding of blood. Were you and I bothin your country when that day comes, you, Mr. Graham, would draw yoursword on one side and I on the other. 

"We may never cross one another in the unknown days, but each man mustbe true to the light which God has given him. Colonel MacKay willfulfil his calling in our army and on our side; in some other army andfor another side you will follow your destiny. It is seldom I speak atsuch length; now I have only one other word to say before I give youfor the day farewell. 

"Mr. Graham, I know what you think of me as clearly as if you hadspoken. Let me say what I think of you. You are a gallant gentleman, full of the ideas of the past, and incapable of changing; you will bea loyal servant to your own cause, and it will be beaten. To you I owemy life. Possibly it might have been better for you to have let mefall by the sword of one of Condé's dragoons, but we are all in thehands of the Eternal, Who doeth what He wills with each man. You willreceive to-day a captain's commission in the cavalry, and in some dayto come, I do not know how soon, and in a way I may not at presentreveal to you, I will, if God please, do a kindness to you which willbe after your own heart, and enable you to rise to your own height inthe great affair of life. I bid you good-morning. "

Few men were ever to hear the Prince of Orange use as many words orgive as much of his mind. As Claverhouse realized his fairness andunderstood, although only a little, then, of his foresight, and as hecame to appreciate the fact that the Prince was trying to do somethingmore lasting for him than merely conferring a commission, he wasoverwhelmed with a sense of the injustice he had done his Highness. Healso realized his own petulance with intense shame. 

"Will your Highness forgive my wild words, for which I might have beenjustly punished"--Graham, with an impulse of emotion, stepped forward, knelt down, and kissed the Prince's hand--"and the shame I put upon aScots gentleman, for which I shall apologize this very day. My swordis at your Highness's disposal while I am in your service and this armis able to use it. If in any day to come it be my fate to stand onsome other side, I shall not forget I once served under a greatcommander and a most honorable gentleman, who dealt graciously withme. "

Two years passed during which Captain Graham saw much fighting andmany of his fellow-officers fall, and it was in keeping with thecharacter of the Prince that during all that time he took nospecial notice of Claverhouse, and gave no indication that he hadthat interview in mind. Claverhouse had learned one lesson, however--patience--and he would have many more to learn; he hadalso been taught not to take hasty views, but to wait for the longresult. And his heart lifted when, after the abortive siege ofCharleroi, he was summoned for a second time to the Prince's presence. On this occasion the Prince said little, but it was to the point;it was the crisis in Claverhouse's life. 

"Within a few days, Captain Graham, " said the Prince, with the samefrozen face, "I leave for London. I may not speak about my errand norother things which may happen, but if it be your will, I shall takeyou in attendance upon me. At the English court I may be able to giveyou an introduction which will place you in the way of service such asyou desire, and if it be the will of God, high honor. For thisopportunity, which I thought might come some day, I have been waiting, and if it be as I expect, you will have some poor reward for savingthe life of the Prince of Orange. "

It was known by this time in the army, and, indeed, throughout Europe, that William of Orange was going to wed the Princess Mary, who was thedaughter of the Duke of York, the King of England's brother, andlikely to be herself the daughter of an English sovereign. For certainreasons it seemed an unlikely and incongruous alliance, for even inthe end of 1677, when the marriage took place, anyone with presciencecould foresee that there would be a wide rift between the politics ofthe Duke of York when he became King and those of William, and eventhen there must have been some who saw afar off the conflict whichended in William and Mary succeeding James upon the throne of England. There were many envied Claverhouse when it came out that he was to bea member of the Prince's suite, and be associated with the Prince'smost distinguished courtiers. But he carried himself, upon the whole, with such graciousness and gallantry that his brother officerscongratulated him on every hand, and feasted him so lavishly before heleft that certain of his own comrades of the Prince's guard were laidaside from duty for several days. It was to the credit of both menthat on the morning of his departure one of his last visitors wasColonel MacKay, who wished him success, and prophesied that they wouldhear great things of him in days to come, since it was understood thatClaverhouse would not return to the Dutch service. 

For some time after the arrival of the Prince and his staff in London, William gave no sign of the good he was going to do Claverhouse. Indeed, he was busy with the work of his wooing and the arrangementsfor his marriage. Claverhouse by this time had learned, however, thatWilliam forgot nothing and never failed to carry out his plans, andhis pulse beat quicker when the Prince requested him to be inattendance one afternoon, and to accompany him alone to Whitehall, where the Duke of York was in residence. There was a certainsuperficial likeness in character between the Prince and hisfather-in-law, for both appeared unfeeling and unsympathetic men, butwhat in James was obstinacy, in William was power, and what in Jameswas superstitious, in William was religion, and what in James waspride, in William was dignity. His friends could trust William, but noone could trust James; while William could make immense sacrifices forhis cause, James could wreck his cause by an amazing blindness and afoolish grasping at the shadow of power. If anyone desired a masterunder whom he would be led to victory, and by whom he would never beput to shame, a master who might not praise him effusively but wouldnever betray him, then let him, as he valued his life and his career, refuse James and cleave to William. But it is not given to a man tochoose his creed, far less his destiny, and Claverhouse was never tohave fortune on his side. It was to be his lot rather to be hinderedat every turn where he should have been helped, and to run his racealone with many weights and over the roughest ground. 

"Your Highness has of your courtesy allowed me to present in publicaudience the officers who have come with me from The Hague, " said thePrince of Orange to James, "and now I have the pleasure to speciallyintroduce this gentleman who was lately a captain in my cavalry, andwho some while ago rendered me the last service one man can do foranother. Had it not been for his presence of mind and bravery ofaction, I had not the supreme honor of waiting to-day upon yourHighness, and the prospect of felicity before me. May I, with theutmost zeal towards him and the most profound respect towards yourHighness, recommend to your service Mr. Graham of Claverhouse, whodistinguished himself on many fields of battle, and who is a finegentleman and a brave officer fit for any post, civil or military. Iwill only say one thing more: he belongs to the same house as theMarquis of Montrose, and has in him the same spirit of loyalty. "

Claverhouse, overcome by the remembrance of the past, is stirred tothe heart, and can hardly make his reverence for emotion. As he kissesJames's hand he registers a vow which he was to keep with his life. And when he has left the presence of the Duke, the Prince of Orangesaid to Claverhouse's new master: "You have, sir, obtained a servantwho will be faithful unto death; I make him over to you withconfidence and with regret. This day, I believe, he will begin thework to which he has been called, and so far as a man can, he willfinish it. "

BOOK II

CHAPTER I

A COVENANTING HOUSE

The glory of Paisley Castle has long departed, but it was a brave andwell-furnished house in the late spring of 1684, to which this storynow moves. The primroses were blooming in sheltered nooks, where thekeen east wind--the curse and the strength of Scotland--could notblight them, and the sun had them for his wooing; there were signs offoliage on the trees as the buds began to burgeon, and send a shimmerof green along the branches; the grass, reviving after winter, wasshowing its first freshness, and the bare earth took a softer color inthe caressing sunlight. The birds had taken heart again and wereseeking for their mates, some were already building their summerhomes. Life is one throughout the world, and the stirring of spring inthe roots of the grass and in the trunks of the trees touches alsohuman hearts and wakes them from their winter. The season of hope, which was softening the clods of the field, and gentling the roughmassive walls of the castle, were also making tender the austere faceof a Covenanting minister standing in one of the deep window recessesof what was called in Scots houses of that day the gallery, and whatwas a long and magnificent upper hall, adorned with arms and tapestry. He was looking out upon the woods that stretched to the silver waterof the Clyde, then a narrow and undeveloped river, and to the far-awayhills of Argyleshire, within which lay the mystery of the Highlands. Henry Pollock had been born of a Cavalier and Episcopalian family, with blood as loyal as that of Claverhouse; he had been brought upamid what the Covenanters called malignant surroundings, and had beentaught to regard the Marquis of Montrose as the first of Scotsmen andthe most heroic of martyrs. Although the senior of Claverhouse by twoyears, he had been with him at St. Andrew's University, and knew himwell, but in spite of his heredity Pollock had ever carried a moreopen mind than Graham. During his university days he had heard thesaint and scholar of the Covenant, Samuel Rutherford, who wasprincipal and professor in the university and a most distinguishedpreacher of his day in Scotland. No doubt Rutherford raged furiouslyagainst prelacy as a work of the devil, and the enemy of Scotsfreedom; no doubt he also wrote books which struck hard at theauthority of the King, and made for the cause of the people. His namewas a reproach among Pollock's friends, and Pollock began with nosympathy towards Rutherford's opinions, but the lad's soul was stirredwhen, in the college chapel of St. Andrew's and also in the parishkirk where Rutherford was colleague with that servant of the Lord Mr. Blair, he listened to Rutherford upon the love of God and theloveliness of Christ. One day he was present, standing obscure among amass of townsfolk, when Rutherford, after making a tedious argument onthe controversies of the day which had almost driven Pollock from theKirk, came across the name of Christ and then, carried away out of hiscourse as by a magnet, began to rehearse the titles of the Lord Jesustill a Scots noble seated in the kirk cried out, "Hold you there, Rutherford. " And Pollock was tempted to say "Amen. " With his side heresented the Covenanting regime, because it frowned on gayety andenforced the hateful Covenant, but even then the lad wished that hisside had preachers to be compared with Rutherford and Blair, and thewords of Rutherford lay hidden in his heart. When the Restoration camehe flung up his cap with the rest of them, and drank only too manyhealths to King Charles. For a while he was intoxicated with thetriumph of the Restoration, but there was a vein of seriousness in himas well as candor, and as the years passed and the people were stilldrinking, and as the tyranny of Cromwell gave place to the brutalityof the infamous crew, Lauderdale, the renegade, and others, whomisruled Scotland in the name of the King, Pollock was much shaken, and began to wonder within himself whether the Presbyterians, with alltheir bigotry, may not have had the right of it. If they did not danceand drink they prayed and led God-fearing lives, and if they would notbe driven to hear the curates preach, there was not too much to hearif they had gone. When the Covenant was the symbol of oppression, Pollock hated it, when it became the symbol for suffering he was drawnto it, till at last, to the horror of his family, he threw in his lotwith the Covenanters of the west of Scotland. Being a lad of partswith competent scholarship, and having given every pledge ofsincerity, he was studying theology in Holland, while Claverhouse wasfighting in the army of the Prince, and he was there ordained to theministry of the kirk. When one has passed through so thorough achange, and sacrificed everything which is most dear for hisconvictions, he is certain to be a root and branch man, and to flinghimself without reserve, perhaps also, alas, without moderation, intothe service of his new cause. Pollock was not of that party in thekirk which was willing to take an indulgence at the hands of thegovernment and minister quietly in their parishes, on condition thatthey gave no trouble to the bishops. He would take no oaths and signno agreements, nor make any compromise, nor bow down to anypersecutor. He threw in his lot with the wild hillmen, who were beinghunted like wild birds upon the mountains by Claverhouse's cavalry, and as he wandered from one hiding place to another, he preached tothem in picturesque conventicles, which gathered in the cathedral ofthe Ayrshire hills, and built them up in the faith of God and of theCovenant. Like Rutherford, who had been to him what St. Stephen was toSt. Paul, he was that strange mixture of fierceness and of tendernesswhich Scots piety has often bred and chiefly in its dark days. He wasnot afraid to pursue the doctrine of Calvin to its furthest extreme, and would glorify God in the death of sinners till even the sternsouls of his congregation trembled. Nor was he afraid to defendresistance to an unjust and ungodly government, and he was willing tofight himself almost as much, though not quite, as to pray. 

But even the gloomiest and bitterest bigots that heard him, huddled insome deep morass and encircled by the cold mist, testified that HenryPollock was greatest when he declared the evangel of Jesus, andbesought his hearers, who might before nightfall be sent by a bloodydeath into eternity, to accept Christ as their Saviour. When hecelebrated the sacrament amid the hills, and lifted up the emblems ofthe Lord's body and blood, his voice broken with passion, and thetears rolling down his cheeks, they said that his face was like thatof an angel. Times without number he had been chased on the moors;often he had been hidden cunningly in shepherd's cottages, twice hehad eluded the dragoons by immersing himself in peat-bogs, and once hehad been wounded. His face could never at any time have been otherwisethan refined and spiritual, but now it was that of an ascetic, worn byprayer and fasting, while his dark blue eyes glowed when he was movedlike coals of fire, and the golden hair upon his head, as the suntouched it, was like unto an aureole. Standing in the embrasure ofthat gallery, which had so many signs of the world which is, in thepictures of sport upon the walls and the stands of arms, he seemed tobe rather the messenger and forerunner of the world which is to come. As he looks out upon the fair spring view, he is settling somethingwith his conscience, and is half praying, half meditating, for, in hislonely vigils, with no company but the curlew and the sheep, he hasfallen upon the way of speaking aloud. 

"There be those who are called to live alone and to serve the Lordnight and day in the high places of the field, like Elijah, who wasthat prophet, and John the Baptist, who ran before the face of theLord. If this be Thy will for me, oh, God, I am also willing, and Thouknowest that mine is a lonely life, and that I bear in my body themarks of the Lord Jesus. If this be my calling, make Thy way plainbefore Thy servant, and give me grace to walk therein with a steadfastheart. He that forsaketh not father and mother . .. And wife for Hisname's sake, is not worthy. " And then a change came over his mood. 

"But the Master came not like the Baptist; He came eating anddrinking; yea, He went unto the marriage of Cana in Galilee, and Heblessed little children and said, 'For of such is the Kingdom of God. 'Thou knowest, Lord, that I have loved Thy children, and when a bairnhas smiled in my face as I baptized it into Thy name, that I havelonged for one that would call me father. When I have seen a man andhis wife together by the fireside, and I have gone out to myhiding-place on the moor, like a wild beast to its den, I confess, oh, Lord, I have watched that square of light so long as I could see it, and have wondered whether there would ever be a home for me, and anywoman would call me husband. Is this the weakness of the flesh; isthis the longing of the creature for comfort; is this the refusing ofthe cross; is this my sin? Search me, oh, God, and try me. " And againthe gentler mood returned. "Didst Thou not set the woman beside theman in the Garden? Has not the love of Jacob for Rachel been glorifiedin Thy word? Art not Thou Thyself the bridegroom, and is not the kirkThy bride? Are we not called to the marriage supper of the Lamb? Isnot marriage Thine own ordinance, and shall I count that unclean, ascertain vain persons have imagined, which Thou hast established? Oh, my Saviour, wast Thou not born of a woman? My soul is torn within me, and unto Thee, therefore, do I look for light; give me this day a signthat I may know what Thou wouldst have me to do, that it may be wellfor Thy cause in the land, and the souls of Thy servants committed tomy charge. "

He is unconscious of everything except the agony of duty throughwhich he is passing, and his words, though spoken low, have a sweetand penetrating note, which arrest the attention of one who has comedown the gallery, and is now standing at the opening of the alcovewhere Pollock is hidden. It is his hostess, the widow of LordCochrane, the eldest son of the Earl of Dundonald, who was stillliving, though old and feeble, and who left the management ofaffairs very much to Lady Cochrane. Like many other families in thedays of the "Troubles, " the Cochranes was a house divided againstitself, although till now the strength had been all on one side. LordDundonald had been a loyal adherent of the Stuarts, and had renderedthem service in earlier days, for which it was understood he hadreceived his earldom; but he was a broken man now, and had nostrength in him to resist his masterful daughter-in-law. She was achild of the Earl of Cassillis, one of the stoutest and mostthoroughgoing of Covenanters; her husband had died in the year whenthe Battle of Bothwell-Brig had been fought, and his last prayerswere for the success of the Covenanters. His younger brother hadbeen one of the Rye House Plot men, and was now an exile for thesafety of his life in Holland. By her blood and by her sympathy, byeverything she thought and felt, Lady Cochrane was a Covenanter, andin her face and figure, as she stands with the light from thewindow falling upon her, she symbolizes her cause and party. Tall andstrong-boned, with a lean, powerful face, and clear, unrelenting eyes, yet with a latent suggestion of enthusiasm which would move her toany sacrifice for what she judged to be righteousness, and with anhonest belief in her religious creed, Lady Cochrane was one of thegodly women of the Covenant. The old Earl had no chance against herresolute will, and contented himself with a quavering protestagainst her ideas, and bleating disapproval of her actions. Whenshe denounced the Council as a set of Herods, and filled the housewith Covenanting ministers and outlawed persons, his only comfort andsympathizer was Lady Cochrane's daughter Jean. This young woman hadof late taken on herself the office of protector, and had shown atendency to criticise both her mother's words and ways, which ledto one or two domestic scenes. For though her ladyship was loudagainst the tyranny of the government, she was an absolute ruler inher own home. And that day she was going to assert herself and putdown an incipient rebellion. 

"I give you good-morning, Mr. Pollock, " said Lady Cochrane, "and Icrave your pardon if I have done amiss, but since you were, as I takeit, wrestling in prayer I had not the mind to break in upon you; Ihave therefore heard some portion of your petitions. It seems to me, though in such matters I am but blind of eye and dull of hearing, thatGod indeed is giving a sign of approval when He seems to have beenturning your heart unto the thought of the marriage between thebridegroom and the bride in the Holy Scriptures, of which othermarriages are, I take it, a shadow and a foretaste. "

"It may be your ladyship is right, " said Pollock after he had returnedhis hostess's greeting, "but we shall soon know, for God hath promisedthat light shall arise unto the righteous. For myself, I declare thatas it has happened on the hills when I was fleeing from Claverhouse, so it is now in my affairs. I am moving in a mist which folds me roundlike a thin garment; here and there I see the light strugglingthrough, and it seems to me most beautiful even in its dimness; by andby the mist shall altogether pass, and I shall stand in the light, which is the shining of His face. But whether I shall then find myselfat Cana of Galilee or in the Garden of Gethsemane, I know not. "

"If it were in my handling, " said Lady Cochrane, regarding her guestwith a mixed expression of admiration and pity, "ye would findyourself, and that without overmuch delay, at a marriage feast. Thedispensation of John Baptist is done with in my humble judgment, and I count the refusing to marry to be pure will-worship and asoul-destroying snare of the Papists. Ye are a good man, Mr. Henry, and a faithful minister of the Word, but ye would be a better, withfewer dreams and more sense for daily duty, besides being morecomfortable, if you had a wife. Doubtless the days are evil, andthere be those who would say that this is not a time to marry, but ifyou had the right wife it is no unlikely ye might be safer than yeare to-day. For there would be a big house to hide you, and, atthe worst, you and she could make your ways to Holland, and getshelter from the Prince till those calamities be overpast. "

"My fear, " continued her ladyship, "is not that ye will do wrong inmarrying, but that ye may fail to win the wife ye told me yesterdaywas your desire. No, Mr. Henry, it is not that I am not with you, forI am a favorer of your suit. In those days when the call is foreveryone to say whether he be for God or Baal, I would rather see mydaughter married to a faithful minister of the kirk, than to theproudest noble in Scotland, who was a persecutor of the Lord's people. As regards blood, I mind me also that ye belong to an ancient house, and as regards titles, it was from King Charles the earldom came tothe Cochranes, and the most of the nobles he has made have been thesons of his mistresses. There will soon be more disgrace than honor inbeing called a lord in the land of England. "

"It may be, " hazarded Pollock anxiously, "that the Earl then does notlook on me with pleasure, and as the head of the house----"

"As what?" said Lady Cochrane. "It is not much his lordship has to sayon anything, for his mind is failing fast, and it never, to my seeing, was very strong. He says little, and it's a mercy he has less power, or rather, I should say, a dispensation of Providence, for if themisguided man had his way of it, Jean would be married to-morrow tosome drinking, swearing officer in Claverhouse's Horse, or, for thatmatter, to that son of Satan, Claverhouse himself. "

"While I am here, " continued this Covenanting heroine, "you neednot trouble yourself about the Earl of Dundonald, but I cannot speakso surely for my daughter. Jean's name was inserted in the Covenant, and she has been taught the truth by my own lips, besides hearingmany godly ministers, but I sorely doubt whether she be steadfastand single-hearted. It was only two days ago she lent her aid toher grandfather when he was havering about toleration, and beforeall was done she spoke lightly of the contendings of God's remnant inthis land, and said that if they had the upper hand Scotland wouldnot be fit to live in. So far as I can see she has no ill-will toyou, Mr. Henry, and has never said aught against you. Nay, more, Irecall her speaking well of your goodness, but whether she willconsent unto your plea I cannot prophesy. Where she got her proudtemper and her stubborn self-will passes my mind, for her fatherwas an exercised Christian and a douce man, and there never was aword of contradiction from him all the days of our married life. Itmay be the judgment of the Lord for the sins of the land, that thechildren are raising themselves against their parents. Be that as itmay, I have done my best for you, and now I will send her to thegallery and ye must make your own suit. I pray God her heart may beturned unto you. "

When the daughter came down the middle of the gallery, with an easyand graceful carriage, for she was a good goer, it would seem as ifthe mother had returned, more beautiful and more gentle, yet quite asstrong and determined. Jean Cochrane--whose proper style as a lord'sdaughter would be the Honorable Jean, but who, partly because she wasan earl's granddaughter, partly in keeping with the usage of the day, was known as Lady Jean--was like her mother, tall and well built, straight as a young tree, with her head set on a long, slender neck, and in conversation thrown back. Her complexion was perfect in itshealthy tone and fine coloring; she had a wealth of the most rich andradiant auburn hair, somewhat like that of Pollock, but redder andmore commanding to the eye; her eyes were sometimes gray and sometimesblue, according to their expression, which was ever changing with hervarying moods. This is no girl of timid or yielding nature who can becoaxed or driven, or of clinging and meek affection. This is a womanfull grown, not in stature only, but in character, of high ambition, of warm passion, of resolute will and clear mind, who is fit to be themate for a patriot, in which case she would be ready to accompany himto the scaffold, or for a soldier, in which case she would send him tohis death with a proud heart. Her mobile face, as flexible as that ofa supreme actress, is set and hard when she enters the gallery, forshe and her mother had just crossed swords, and Lady Jean knew forwhat end she had been asked to meet the Covenanter. Lady Cochrane wasan unhappy advocate for such a plea, and with such a daughter, although she might have been successful with a helpless and submissivegirl. With that look in her eyes, which are as cold as steel and haveits glitter, one could not augur success for any wooer. It was atribute not so much to the appearance of Pollock as to the soul of theman shining through his face in most persuasive purity and sincerity, that when they met and turned aside into that window space and stoodin the spring sunlight, her face softened towards him. The pride ofher carriage seemed to relax, and the offence went out of her eyes, and she gave him a gracious greeting, and no woman, if she had a mind, could be more ingratiating. Then, still standing, which suited herbest, and looking at him with not unfriendly gravity, she waited forwhat he had to say. 

"Lady Jean, " he began, "your honorable mother has told you for whatend I desired speech with you this day, and I ask you to give me afair hearing of your kindness, for though I have been called of God todeclare His word before many people, I have no skill in the businessto which I now address myself. In this matter of love between a manand a maid I have never before spoken, and if I succeed not to-day, shall never speak again. Bear with me when I explain for your betterunderstanding of my case, that I began my life in the faith of myfamily, and that I came into the Covenant after I was a man. I wascalled, as I trust of God, unto the ministry of the Evangel, and Ihave exercised it not in quiet places, but in the service of God'speople who are scattered and peeled among the hills. It seemedtherefore of my calling that I should live as a Nazarite and diealone, having known neither wife nor child, and indeed this may be mylot. " Having said so much, as he looked not at the girl but out ofthe window, he now turned his face upon her, which, always pale, begannow to be ashen white, through rising emotion and intensity of heart. 

"Two years ago I first came to this castle and saw you; from time totime upon the errands of my master or sheltering from my pursuers Ihave lived here, and before I knew it I found my heart go out to you, Lady Jean, so that on the moors I heard your voice in the singing ofthe mountain birds, and saw your face with your burning hair in theglory of the setting sun. The thought of you was never far from me, and the turn of your head and your step as you have walked before mecame ever to my sight. Was not this, I said to myself, the guidance ofthe Lord in Whose hands are the hearts of men, and Who did cause Isaacto cleave to Rebecca? But, again, might it not be that I was turningfrom the way of the cross and following the desires of my own heart? Iprayed for some token, and fourteen days ago this word in the Song ofSolomon came unto me, and was laid upon my heart. 'Behold thou artfair, my love, behold thou art fair, thou hast dove's eyes within thylocks, thy hair is as a flock of goats that appear from Mount Gilead. 'Wherefore I make bold to speak to you to-day, and on your reply willhang the issue of my after life. " His eyes had begun to shine withmystic tenderness and yearning appeal, so that she, who had beenlooking away from him, could not now withdraw her gaze. 

"Is there in your heart any kindness and confidence towards me, andhave you been moved to think of me as one whom you could wed and whoselife you could share? It is not to wealth nor to honor, it is not toease and safety that I invite you, Lady Jean; you must be prepared tosee me suffer, and you must be willing that I should die. What I coulddo to protect and cherish you, if God gave you to me, I should, andnext to the Lord who redeemed me, you would be the love of my heart intime and also in eternity, where we should follow the Lord together, unto living fountains of waters. "

It was not the wooing of quieter days or gentler lives; it was notafter this fashion that a Cavalier would have spoken to his ladylove, but his words were in keeping with the man, and streamed from thelight of his eyes rather than from his lips. And the girl, who hadcome to say no as briefly and firmly as might be consistent withcourtesy, was touched in the deepest part of her being, and for themoment almost hesitated. 

"Ye have done me the chief honor a man can offer to a woman, Mr. Pollock, and Jean Cochrane will never forget that ye asked her inmarriage. It cannot be, and it is better that I should say thiswithout delay or uncertain speech, but I pray you, Mr. Henry, understand why, and think me not a proud or foolish girl. It is notthat I do not know that you are a holy and a brave man, whom the folkrightly consider to be a saint, and whom others say would have made agallant soldier. It is not that I doubt the woman ye wedded would bewell and tenderly loved, for, I confess to you, ye seem to me to havethe making of a perfect husband. And it is not that I"--and here shestraightened herself--"would be afraid of any danger, or any sufferingeither, for myself or you. I should bid it welcome, and if I saw youlaid dead for the cause ye love, I should take you in my arms and kissyou on the mouth, though you were red with blood, as I never kissedyou living on our marriage day. " And she carried her head as a queenat the moment of her coronation. 

"No, " she went on, while the glow faded and her voice grew gentle; "itis for two reasons, but one of them I tell you only to yourself, inthe secrecy of your honor. I admire and I--reverence you as one liftedabove me like a saint, but this is not the feeling of a woman for theman that is to be her husband. I do not love you as I know I shall inan instant love the man who is to be my man when I first see him, andfor whom I shall forsake without any pang my father's house, or else, if he appear not, I shall never wed. That mayhap is reason enough, butI am dealing with you as a friend this day. Though my name be in theCovenant, I am not sure--oh, those are dark times--whether I wouldwrite it to-day with my own hand. I might be able to do so when I wasyour wife, but that I may not be. Yet it is left to me, Mr. Henry, tohave your name in my prayers, that God may keep you in the hard roadye have chosen, and give you in the end a glorious crown. And I willask of you to mention at a time Jean Cochrane before the throne ofgrace. For surely ye will be heard, and blessed shall she be for whomye pray. "

For an instant there was silence, and then, before she left, LadyJean, as Pollock stood with head sunk on his breast and lips moving inprayer, bent forward and kissed him on the forehead. When an hourlater the minister descended to Lady Cochrane's room, he told her thathis suit was hopeless, but that he was thankful unto God that he hadspoken with Lady Jean. 

CHAPTER II

THE COMING OF THE AMALEKITE

It would have been hard to find within the civilized world a moremiserable and distracted country than Scotland at the date of ourhistory, and the West Country was worst of all. The Covenanters, whowere never averse to fighting, had turned upon Claverhouse and hisdragoons when they came to disperse a field-meeting at Drumclog, andhad soundly beaten the King's Horse. Then, gathering themselves to ahead and meeting the royal forces under the Duke of Monmouth atBothwell Bridge, they had in turn been hopelessly crushed. Whatremained of their army was scattered by the cavalry, and since thatday, with some interludes, Claverhouse had been engaged in theinglorious work of dispersing Presbyterian Conventicles gathered inremote places among the hills, or searching the moss-hags for outlawedpreachers. It was a poor business for one who had seen war on thegrand scale under the Prince of Orange, and had fought in battleswhere eighteen thousand men were left on the field. War was not thename for those operations, they were simply police work of an irksomeand degrading kind. There were some who said that Claverhouse gloriedin it, and that the inherent cruelty of his nature was gratified incausing obstinate Covenanters, who had not taken the oath, to be shoton the spot, and haling others to prison, where they were treated withextreme barbarity. Others believed that being a man of broad mind andchivalrous temper, he absolutely disapproved of the government policyand loathed the butcher work to which he and his troopers were set. 

Upon one way of it he was a bloodthirsty tyrant, and upon theother he was an obedient soldier, but the truth was with neitherview. There is no doubt that, like any other ambitious commander, he would much rather have been engaged in a proper campaign, and itmay be granted that as a brave man he did not hanker to be theexecutioner of peasants; but he absolutely approved of the policyof his rulers, and had no scruple in carrying it out. It was the onlything that could be done, and it had better be done thoroughly; thesooner the turbulent and irreconcilable Covenanters were crushedand the country reduced to peace the better for Scotland. And itmust be remembered that, though they were only a fraction of thenation, the hillmen were a very resolute and harassing fraction, and kept the western counties in a state of turmoil. No week passedwithout some picturesque incident being added to the annals of thislamentable religious war, and whether it was an escape or anarrest, an attack or a defeat, the name of Claverhouse was always inthe story. The air was thick with rumors of his doings, and in everycottage enraged Covenanters spoke of his atrocities. No doubt theking had other officers quite as merciless and almost as active, andthe names of men like Grierson of Lag and Bruce of Earleshall andthat fierce old Muscovite fighter, General Dalziel, were engraved foreverlasting reprobation upon the memory of the Scots people. Butthere was no superstition so mad that it was not credited toClaverhouse, and no act so wicked that it was not believed of him. During the hours of day he ranged the country, a monster thirstingfor the blood of innocent men, and the hours of the evening hespent with his associates in orgies worthy of hell. His horse, famous for its fleetness and beauty, was supposed to be an evilspirit, and as for himself, everyone knew that Claverhouse could notbe shot except by a silver bullet, because he was under theprotection of the devil. Perhaps it is not too much to say that duringthose black years--black for both sides, and very much so forClaverhouse--he was, in the imagination of the country folk, littleelse than a devil himself, and it was then he earned the title whichhas clung to him unto this day and been the sentence of his infamy, "Bloody Claverse. "

Although there were not many houses of importance in the west whichGraham had not visited during those years, it happened that he hadnever been within Paisley Castle, and that he had never met any of thefamily except the earl and his aged countess. Lady Cochrane and theCovenanting servants could have given a thumb-nail sketch of him whichwould have done for a mediæval picture of Satan, and an accompanyingletter-press of his character which would have been a slander uponJudas Iscariot. Her heroic ladyship had, however, never metClaverhouse, and she prayed God she never would, not because she wasafraid of him or of the devil himself, but because she knew it wouldnot be a pleasant interview on either side. But it was not likely inthose times that the Dundonalds should altogether escape the notice ofthe government, or that Graham, ranging through the country seekingwhom he might devour, as the Covenanters said, should not find himselfsome day under their roof. The earl himself was known to be wellaffected, and in any case did not count, but Lady Cochrane was adangerous woman, and her brother-in-law, Sir John, had been plottingagainst the government and was an exile. No one was much surprisedwhen tidings came to the castle early one morning that Claverhousewith two troops of his regiment, his own and the one commanded by LordRoss, Jean Cochrane's cousin, was near Paisley, and that Claverhousewith Lord Ross craved the hospitality of the castle. It was naturalthat he should stay in the chief house of the neighborhood, and allthe more as Lord Dundonald was himself notoriously loyal, but it wassuspected that he came to gather what information he could about SirJohn Cochrane, and to warn Lady Cochrane, the real ruler of thecastle, to give heed to her ways. 

"The day of trial which separates the wheat from the chaff has come atlast, as I expected it would, " said Lady Cochrane, with pridetriumphing over concern; "it would have been strange and a cause forsearching of hearts if the enemy had visited so many of God's peopleand had passed us by as if we were a thing of naught, or indeed werelike unto Judas, who had made his peace with the persecutors. Have yeconsidered what ye will do, my lord?" she said to the earl, who waswandering helplessly up and down the dining-hall. 

"Do, my lady?" It was curious to notice how they all called her mylady. "I judge that Claverhouse and any servants he brings must be ourguests, and of course Ross. But you know more about what we can dothan I. Do you think we could invite the other officers of his troop?There will be Bruce of Earleshall and--" Then, catching LadyCochrane's eye, he brought his maundering plans of hospitality to aclose. "Doubtless you will send a letter and invite such as the castlemay accommodate. I leave everything, Margaret, in your hands. "

"_I_ invite John Graham of Claverhouse and his bloody crew, officersor men it matters not, to cross our threshold and break bread withinour walls--I, a daughter of the house of Cassillis and the widow ofyour faithful son? May my hand be smitten helpless forever if I writesuch a word, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth if I welcomethis slayer of the saints to my home!" And Lady Cochrane rose from herplace and stood like a lioness at bay. "Receive that servant of theEvil One into Paisley Castle? Yea, I would receive him if I could. Ifearly word had been sent of his approach and it were in my power, Iwould call together every man in this region who is true unto God andthe Covenant, and I would close the gates of the castle and bid thepersecutor take it by force. I should count it an honor before theLord to shed my own blood in its defence. But I doubt that may notbe. "

"What shall I do, then?" in answer to a quavering question from theearl, who was now huddled in a chair before the huge open fireplace. "I would leave the castle if it were not too late, and seek somelodging till Claverhouse be gone, for I fear to dwell beneath the sameroof with this man of blood lest the Lord smite us with a commondestruction. See him or speak with him I will not; I will to my ownrooms, and there I will seclude myself, praying that God may speedilyjudge this man, and cast him from his place. Lord Dundonald, I willleave it to you to play the host: very likely ye will not have muchsorrow over it, for ye have more than a friendly heart to theMalignants. "

"It seems to me, if I be not too bold in saying it, that ye are takinga wise course, my lady, for there might arise some slight debatebetween you and Claverhouse, and that in the present circumstanceswould not be convenient. Not quite, as I said, convenient. You are abrave woman, Margaret, and worthy of your honorable house, butClaverhouse is the king's officer, and I forget--my memory is not whatit was--the number of men in a troop, but he has two troops with him. Apart from that, " rambled on the earl, "we must remember John, who isin danger, and we may not give offence if we can speak a canny wordwhich will get the right side of Claverhouse. "

"Ye have learned your lesson well, my lord, and ye will do your partin this day of expediency when men are more concerned about theirsafety and that of their children than that of the kirk of God and thecause of righteousness. I make sure that there will be much fair talkbetween you and your guests, but I cannot breathe this air, and so youwill excuse me from your company. Jean, you will come with yourmother and stay with me till this plague has left the house, for Icount a visit of Claverhouse worse than leprosy or the black death. "

"Craving your pardon, mother, " said Jean, who had been listening tothis conversation with intense sympathy, and entering keenly into thecontrast between the earl and Lady Cochrane, "I will not go with youand hide myself till Colonel Graham be gone. There should, it seems tome, be some woman by the side of the head of the house, especiallywhen he is no longer young, to receive Claverhouse, for whether wehate or love him he is our guest while underneath this roof. I am notafraid of him, and I will make free to confess that I desire to seethis man of whom we have heard so much ill. It may be, after all, thathe is not what those foolish people think. At any rate, by your leave, I shall stand by the earl's side if he will have me. "

"Ye speak boldly, girl. Though you have often debated with me morethan was becoming, I do not recall till this day that ye havedisobeyed me. But be it so, since this gives pleasure to hislordship" (who had crept over and was standing, as it were, underthe shield of his bold granddaughter). "Only, one word of warning, if ye be not too proud and high-minded to take it. Albeit this manhas the heart of Pontius Pilate, and will be the curse of everyonethat has to do with him, yet the story goes that the master whom heserves has given him a fair face and beguiling words, and I bid youbeware. But from what I hear outside it is time I left. Your guestis at your gate: I pray you may have comfort in him, and that he maynot bring a shadow to this home. " And Lady Cochrane swept hermajestic way out of the dining-hall; and retired to her apartmentsin another wing. 

As she left, the earl, with Jean, went to the public door of the hallto meet Lord Ross and Claverhouse, who, without waiting for anyinvitation to stay in the castle, had come to pay their respects tothe earl. They were already ascending the narrow stone stairs by whichvisitors came from the courtyard to the hall, and almost as soon asthe earl and Jean had taken their places, Lord Ross came through thedoorway, and having bowed to the earl turned aside to presentClaverhouse. Jean saw him for the first time framed in the arch of thedoor, and never while she lived, even after she was the loyal wife ofanother man, forgot the sight. Ten years had passed since Grahamjested at the camp-fire with his comrades of the English Volunteers, on the night before the battle of Sineffe, but war, with manyanxieties, had left only slight traces upon his face. He was no longera soldier of fortune, but the commander of "His Majesty's Own Regimentof Horse, " and a colonel in the king's army. By this time also he wasa member of the Privy Council, and a favorite person at Court; he hadheld various offices and taken part in many public affairs. Yet he wasthe same gracious and engaging figure, carrying on his face thechangeless bloom of youth, though now thirty-six years of age. He wasin the handsome uniform of his regiment, completed by a polished andgleaming breastplate over which his neckerchief of white lacestreamed, while his face looked out from the wealth of brown hairwhich fell over his shoulders. His left hand rested on his sword, andJean marked the refinement and delicacy of his right hand, which wasungloved, as if for salutation. The day had been cloudy, and the hall, with its stone floor, high roof, oaken furniture, and walls covered bydark tapestry, was full of gloom, only partially relieved by thefirelight from the wide, open hearth. While Claverhouse was coming upthe stairs to the sound of his spurs and the striking of his swordagainst the wall, the sun came out from behind a cloud, and a ray oflight streaming from an opposite window fell upon the doorway as heentered. It lingered but for a moment, and after touching hispicturesque figure as with a caress, disappeared, and the eyes of JohnGraham and Jean Cochrane met. 

They were the opposite of each other: he slight and graceful, she talland strong; he dark and rich of complexion, with hazel eye, she fairand golden, with eyes of gray-blue; he a born and convinced Cavalier, and she a born and professed Covenanter; he a kinsman of the greatmarquis whom the Covenanters beheaded, and she on her mother's sidethe daughter of a house which hated Montrose and all his works. Therewas nothing common between them; they stood distant as the east fromthe west, and yet in that instant their hearts were drawn together. They might never confess their love--there would be a thousandhindrances to give it effect--it was in the last degree unlikely thatthey could ever marry, but it had come to pass with them as withinnumerable lovers, that love was born in an instant. 

"I thank you, my lord, " said Claverhouse, bowing low to the earl, "for this friendly greeting, and for the invitation you now give to beyour guest during my short stay in the district. It is strange thatthrough some ordering of circumstances, to me very disappointing, Ihave never had the honor of offering to you an assurance of my respectas a good subject of the king, and one whom the king has greatlyhonored. As you know, my lord, I come and go hastily on the king'sbusiness. I only wish, and I judge his Majesty would join in the wish, that my visits to those parts were fewer. One is tempted, preacherstell us, to think well of himself, overmuch indeed, maybe, but I havebeen wonderfully delivered from the snare of imagining that I am abeloved person in the west of Scotland. " As he spoke, a sudden andalmost roguish look of humor sprang from his eyes and played acrosshis face. And he smiled pleasantly to Lady Jean, to whom he was nowintroduced, and whose hand he kissed. 

"You will give your indulgence to a poor soldier who must appear inthis foolish trapping of war, and whose time in these parts is spentin the saddle rather than in a lady's rooms. I trust that it is wellwith the Lady Cochrane, of whom I have often heard, and whom I daredto hope I might have the privilege of meeting. " And a second time thesame smile flickered over Claverhouse's face, and he seemed tochallenge Jean for an answer. 

"My mother, Colonel Graham, " responded Jean, with a careful choice ofwords, "does not find herself able to receive you to-day as we wouldhave wished, and I fear she may be confined to her room during yourvisit. It will, I fear, be the greater loss to you that you have toaccept me in her place, but we will try to give you such attention aswe can, and my good cousin here knows the castle as if it were his ownhome. "

"Yes, and he has often spoken of our fair hostess of to-day"--andClaverhouse led Lady Jean to the table, where a meal was spread--"andeveryone has heard how wide is the hospitality of Paisley Castle. Am Itoo bold in asking whether Lord Ross and I are the only guests, orwhether we may not expect to have a blessing on this generous boardfrom some minister of the kirk, even perhaps from the worthy Mr. HenryPollock? I think, my lord, he favors you sometimes with his company. "Again the smile returned, but this time more searching and ironical. 

"Pollock? Henry? That name sounds familiar. One of the leaders of thehillmen, isn't he, who were giving such trouble to the government? Iam not sure but he was in this district not long ago, maybe a monthsince. Last Monday, was it? Well, you will know better than I do, Colonel. My Lady Cochrane and I don't perhaps quite agree in this, butI can't approve of any trafficking with persons disaffected to thegovernment. Gone! what, did any man say that Pollock was here?" Andthe earl shuffled in his chair beneath Claverhouse's mocking eyes. 

"If you desire to know the truth, " Jean Cochrane said, with severedignity, "it were better not to ask my lord, because many come and go, and he sometimes forgets their names. Mr. Henry Pollock was our guestthree days ago, as you are ours to-day, but next day he left, and weknow not where he is. If, as I judge, you have surrounded the castle, I think you might let your troopers go to their dinner. "

"It is good advice, " laughed Claverhouse, concealing his disappointment, and nodding to Lord Ross, who rose and left the table, to send offthe soldiers. "For one thing, at any rate, I have come a day behindthe fair, and I shall not have the pleasure this time of hearingsome gracious words from that eminent saint, and introducing myunworthy self to his notice. We have met once or twice before, but at adistance, and he had no leisure to speak with me. Some day I hope to bemore fortunate. "

"When you do meet, Colonel Graham, " retorted Jean, stung by thismockery, for she knew now that one of the ends of Claverhouse's visitwas the arrest of Pollock, and if it had not been the accident of herrefusal, Pollock would have been Claverhouse's prisoner, "you will bein the company of a good man and a brave, who may not be of your way, but who, I will say in any presence, is a gentleman of Christ. "

"Whatever else befall him, Pollock is fortunate in his advocate. "Claverhouse looked curiously at Jean. "God knows I do not desire tosay aught against him. Had I found him in Paisley Castle I should havedone my duty, and he would have done his. We were together in the olddays at St. Andrew's, and he was a good Cavalier then; he is a man offamily and of honor. Pardon me if I think he has chosen the wrongside, and is doing vast evil in stirring up ignorant people againstthe government and breeding lawlessness. But there, I desire not todebate, and none grieves more over the divisions of the day than anunhappy soldier who is sent to settle them by the rough medicine ofthe sword. Henry Pollock has chosen his side and taken his risk: Ihave chosen mine and taken my risk, too. If it be his lot when thetime comes he will die as a brave man should, for there is nocowardice in Pollock, and when my time comes, may heaven give me thesame grace. But I fear, Lady Jean, it is a struggle unto life ordeath. " Claverhouse's face grew stern and sad, and he repeated, "Untolife or death. "

Then suddenly his face relaxed into the old polite, mocking smile ashe turned to Lord Dundonald. "The Lady Jean and I have fallen uponmuch too serious talk, and I take blame, my lord, that I have not beeninquiring for the welfare of your family. I congratulate you on myLord Cochrane, who well sustains the fame of your house on all itssides for turning out strong men and fair women. Some day I hopeCochrane will ask for a commission in his Majesty's Regiment of Horseand join his kinsman Ross under my command. But what news have youfrom Sir John? It came to my ears somehow that he was travellingabroad; is that so, my lord? Some one told me also that you had aletter from him a week ago. "

"John! We have not seen him for a year. He was in London, but he isnot there now. Yes, I seem to remember that he had some business whichhas taken him out of the country for a little. We hope he will soonreturn, and when he knows that you have done us the honor of comingbeneath our roof he will be very sorry that he was not here tomeet you. " The earl havered to the end of his breath and hisprevarications, like a clock which had run down. 

"It would have been more good fortune than I expected from myinformation if I had found Sir John here, for unless rumor be awilder liar than usual he is in Holland, where there is a considerablegathering of worthy Presbyterians at present, taking counciltogether, no doubt, for the good of their country. When you arewriting to Sir John, would you of your courtesy give him a messagefrom me? Say that I know Holland well, and that the climate isexcellent for Scotsmen--more healthy sometimes, indeed, than theirnative air--and that some of his well-wishers think that he might behappier there than even in Paisley Castle. If he wishes service inthe army, I could recommend him to the notice of my old fellow-officerMacKay of Scourie, who is now, I hear, a general in the Prince'sservice. You will be pleased to know, my lord, that the Rye HousePlot against his Majesty was a very poor failure, and that allengaged in it, who were caught, will be soundly trounced. "

"If anyone says that my son had anything to do with that damnableproceeding, which all loyal subjects must detest, then he isslandering John, who is----"

"Your son, my lord, and the brother of my late Lord Cochrane cut offtoo soon. I am curious to get any gossip from the low country. Wouldit be too great a labor for you to let your eyes rest again on SirJohn's letters, and to learn whether he has anything to tell about myold commander, his Highness of Orange, or anything else that wouldsatisfy my poor curiosity. Burned them, have you? Strange. If I had ason instead of being a lonely man, I think his letters would be kept. But you are a wise man, my lord, no doubt, and I seem to be doomed todisappointment to-day in everything except the most gracioushospitality. Now, with your permission, Lady Jean, I must go to seethat those rascals of mine are not making your good people in the towndrink the king's health too deeply. "

CHAPTER III

BETWEEN MOTHER AND LOVER

For no less a time than fourteen days did Claverhouse and his menremain in Paisley, to the amazement of the district and the fierceindignation of Lady Cochrane. During that time the soldiers madesudden journeys in various directions, but if they arrested anyCovenanters they were never brought to Paisley, and although LadyCochrane prophesied the murder of the saints every day, no newatrocity was laid to her guest's charge. Once or twice he went outwith his men himself, but he mostly contented himself with directingtheir operations, and he occupied his time with writing longdespatches on the case of Sir John Cochrane and the state of affairsin Scotland. He was not so busy, however, that he had no leisure forthe duties of a guest, and now that he had missed Pollock and hadfound out all he wanted about Sir John, he never came a thousand mileswithin controversy. He was studiously courteous to the servants atthe castle, who had regarded his coming with absolute terror; hecalmed and gentled the timid old earl, and drew him out to tellstories of the days of the Commonwealth, when one of Cromwell'stroopers pulled the minister out of the pulpit of the Abbey kirk, andheld forth himself on the sins both of Prelacy and Presbytery, declaring that he was as good a priest as any man. Claverhouse made noobjection when the minister of the Abbey, who had taken the indulgenceand was on good terms with the government, but whom Lady Cochranedetested and considered to be a mere Gallio, came up to hold familyworship in the castle. He attended the service himself, and explainedthat he always had prayers when he was at home, and that he generallyhad a chaplain with him. When he was not shut up in his room readingor writing despatches, he mingled freely with the family and suitedhimself to each one's taste with great tact and good nature. It wasnot long since he had returned from Court at London, where he was nowa popular and influential person, and he had many good tales for youngLord Cochrane, about hunting with the Duke of York, cock-fighting andother sports in vogue, and all the doings of the royal circle. ForJean he had endless interesting gossip from the capital about thegreat ladies and famous men, and the amusements of the Court and thevaried life of London. But he was careful never to tell any of thosetales which buzzed through the land about the ways of Charles, butwhich were not fit for a maiden's ears. From time to time, also, asthey walked together in the pleasaunce of the castle, they touched ondeeper things, and Jean marked that, although this man had lived asoldier's life, and had been much with people who were far removedfrom Puritanism, he was free from the coarseness of the day, and that, although he might be capable of severity and even cruelty, he was ofmore fastidious and chivalrous temper than anyone else she had metamong the Covenanters except Henry Pollock. Unconsciously Jean beganto compare the two men, and to weigh their types of character. Therewas nothing to choose between them in honor or in manliness, thoughthe one was a minister of the Evangel and the other a colonel of hisMajesty's Horse, but they were different. Pollock, with all hisnarrowness of faith and extravagance of action, was a saint, and noone could say that of Claverhouse, even though they might admit he wasnot the devil of the Covenanting imagination. But John Graham wasmore human: he might not see visions, and there never came into hisface that light of the other world which she had seen on Pollock's, but he knew when a woman was walking by his side, and his eyescaressed her. His voice never had that indescribable accent ofeternity which thrilled Henry Pollock's hearers, and was to them as amessage from God, but Graham's speech could turn from grave andcourteous mockery, which was very taking in its way, to a gentledeference and respectful appeal, which, from a strong man with sodazzling a reputation, was irresistible to a woman's heart. Then, noone could deny that his person was beautiful--a rare thing to say of aman--or that his manner was gracious, and Jean began to admit toherself that if he set himself he would be a successful lover. Thevery contradiction of the man--with so graceful a form and so high aspirit, with so evil a name for persecution and so engaging apresence, with such a high tone of authority among the men in powerand so modest a carriage towards maidens--made him a captivating guestand dangerous to women's hearts. There was also a natural sympathybetween John Graham and Jean Cochrane, because, though they had beenbrought up under different traditions and were on opposite sides, theywere both resolute, honest, independent, and loyal. No word or hint oflove passed between them during those days, but Jean knew that for thefirst time her heart had been touched, and Claverhouse, who had seenall kinds of women and had been indifferent to them all, and who forthe beauty of him had been tempted at Court quite shamelessly and hadremained cold as ice, understood at last the attraction of a maid fora man, and also realized that Jean Cochrane was a fit mate for himbecause her spirit was as high as his own. 

They were trying days for Lady Cochrane in her self-enforcedseclusion, and her temper was not improved by the news, broughtdiligently to her by her waiting-maid, that her daughter was doing herutmost to make the persecutor's time pass pleasantly. Her mother hadno suspicion at this point that Jean was really wavering in loyalty tothe good cause, but as a woman with insight and discernment she knewthe danger to which Jean was exposed, and blamed herself for her owninconvenient pride. What if by way of putting a slight on this archenemy she were to sacrifice her own child? It was impossible, ofcourse, that any daughter of hers should ever allow her affections tobe entangled by the murderer of the saints, and Claverhouse dared not, if he would, marry a Cochrane, for he might as well throw up hiscommission and join Henry Pollock at the next preaching on the moors. But foolish ideas might come into the girl's head, and it was saidthat Claverhouse could appear as an angel of light. It might be aswell to strengthen and safeguard her daughter against the wiles of thewicked one, so she summoned her to her room, and, as her manner was, dealt with Jean in a straightforward and faithful fashion. LadyCochrane had, however, learned that her daughter could not bebrowbeaten or captured by direct assault, but that, however thoroughmight be her own mind and uncompromising her will, she would have towalk warily with Jean. 

"It was an ill wind that blew that evil man to this castle, and an illwork, I make no doubt, he has been after in this district. He camelike a bloodhound to catch Henry Pollock, and like a fox to get whatnews he could about Sir John. What he lingers for his master onlyknows, but it grieves me, lassie, that ye have had the burden of himon your shoulders. They are too light, though they may be strongerthan most, for such a weight; I will not deny your spirit, but he, asthe Proverb goes, must have a lang spoon to sup wi' the deil. Has hespoken civilly"--and Lady Cochrane eyed her daughter keenly--"or hashe been saying evil of our house and the cause?"

"Claverhouse has said no evil of any man that I can mind of, mother, "replied Jean coldly; "and what he did say about Mr. Henry Pollockwould have rather pleased than angered you. He does not discoursewithout ceasing, as certain do when they come to the castle, about thetimes and all the black troubles; he seems to me rather to avoidmatters of debate, I suppose because they would give offence. I doubtwhether you could quarrel with him if you met him. "

"What, then, is the substance of his talk--for, if all stories betrue, it is not much he knows of anything but war and wicked people?What has he for a godly maiden to hear?"

"Nothing worth mentioning, mayhap"--and Jean spoke with almost studiedindifference--"what is going on in London, and how the great ladies ofthe Court are dressed, and the clever things the king says, and howthe Duke of York loves sport, and suchlike. It would please you tohear him, for ye have seen the Court. "

"Once, Jean, and never again by God's mercy, for it is a spring ofcorruption from which pours every evil work, where no man can liveclean, and no chaste woman should ever go. The like of it has not beenseen for wickedness since the daughter of Herodias danced before Herodand his lewd courtiers, and obtained the head of John the Baptist on acharger for her reward. Black shame upon John Graham! Cruel he is, butI thought he would not pollute any girl's ears with such immodesttales. " And Lady Cochrane was beginning to lose control of herself. 

"Colonel Graham said never a word which it were unbecoming a maiden tohear, and especially a daughter of Lady Cochrane. " And Jean grew hotwith indignation. "His talk was about the ceremonies and the dresses;there was no mention of any wrongdoings. Nor was his speech always ofLondon, for he touched on many other things, and seemed to me to haveright thoughts, both of how men should live and die. For example, hesaid, that though Mr. Henry Pollock and he differ, Mr. Henry was agood and brave gentleman. "

"Did he, indeed?" and Lady Cochrane was very scornful. "Doubtless thatwas very cunning on his part, and meant to tickle your ears. But yeknow, Jean, that if by evil chance, or rather, let us say, a darkordering of the Lord, he had caught Mr. Henry here, like a bird in thesnare of the fowler, he would have given him a short trial. If ye hadcared to look ye would have seen that godly man shot in our owncourtyard by six of Claverhouse's dragoons. Aye, and he would havegiven the order in words as smooth as butter, and come back to tellyou brave tales of the court ladies with a smile upon his bonnie face. May God smite his beauty with wasting and destruction!"

"Mother, " said Jean, flushing and throwing back her head, "ye speakwhat ye believe to be true, and many hard things are done in theseblack days on both sides; but after I have spoken with Claverhouse, Icannot think that he would have any good man killed in cold blood. "

"What does it matter, Jean, what you think, for it is weel kent that ayoung lassie's eye is caught in the snare of a glancing eye and agallant's lovelocks. Listen to me, and I will tell you what threeweeks ago this fair-spoken and sweet-smiling cavalier did. He washunting for the hidden servants of the Lord in the wild places ofAyrshire, and he caught near his own house a faithful professor ofreligion, on whose head a price was set, and for whose blood thosesons of Belial were thirsting. Claverhouse demanded that he shouldtake the oath, which no honest man can swear, and of which ye haveoften heard. And when that brave heart would not, because he countedhis life not dear to him for the Lord's sake, Claverhouse gave himthree minutes to pray before he died. You are hearing me, Jean, for Ihave not done?

"The martyr of the Lord prayed so earnestly for his wife and children, for the downtrodden Kirk of Scotland, and for his murderer, thatGraham ordered him to rise from his knees, because his time was come. When he rose he was made to stand upon the green before his own house, with his wife and bairns at the door, and Claverhouse commanded somany of his men to fire upon him. Ah! ye would have seen anotherClaverhouse than ye know in that hour. But that is not all. 

"His dragoons are ignorant and ungodly men, accustomed to blood, butafter hearing that prayer their hearts were softened within them andthey refused to fire. So Graham took a pistol from his saddle, andwith his own hands slew the martyr. Ye are hearing, Jean, but there ismore to follow. With her husband lying dead before her eyes, Claverhouse asked his wife what she thought of her man now. That bravewoman, made strong in the hour of trial, wrapt her husband's head in awhite cloth and took it on her lap, and answered: 'I have alwayshonored him, but I have never been so proud of him as this day. Yewill have to answer to man and God for this. ' This is what he gaveback to her: 'I am not afraid of man, and God I will take into my ownhands. ' That is how he can deal with women, Jean, when he is on hiserrands of blood, and that is what he thinks of God. But his day iscoming, and the judgment of the Lord will not tarry. "

[Illustration: "Ye will have to answer to man and God for this. " Page143. ]

"My lady, " said Jean, who had grown very pale, and whose face hadhardened through this ghastly story, "that, I am certain as I live, isa lie. Colonel Graham might order the Covenanter to be shot, and thatwere dreadful enough. He would never have insulted his wife after sucha base manner--none but a churl would do that, and Claverhouse is notbase-born. "

"He is base, girl, who does basely, it matters not how fair he be orhow pleasing in a lady's room. And I am not sure about his respect forladies and the high ways of what ye would call his chivalry. Mayhap yehave not heard the story of his courting--then I have something else, and a lighter tale for your ears, but whether it please you better Iknow not. Though I begin to believe ye are easily satisfied. " At themention of courting Lady Cochrane searched the face of her daughter, but though Jean was startled she gave no sign. 

"There be many tales which fly up and down the land, and are passedfrom mouth to mouth among the children of this world, and some ofthem are not for a godly maiden's ears, since they are maistlyconcerned wi' chambering and wantonness. But this thing ye had betterhear, and then ye will understand what manner of man in his walk andconversation we are harboring beneath our roof. For a' he look sogrand and carries his head so high, he has little gold in his purse, but the black devil of greed is in his heart. So, like the lave of thegallants that drink and gamble and do waur things at the king'scourt, he has been hunting for some lass that will bring him a tocher(dowry) and a title. For this is what the men of his generation areever needing. Ye follow me, Jean? This may be news to a country lasswha has not been corrupted among the king's ladies. 

"Weel, it's mair than three years ago our brave gentleman scented hisgame, and ever since has been trying to trap this misguided lass, forlike the rest o' them, when he is not persecuting the saints, he isruining innocent women soul and body. I would have you understandthat, daughter, and maybe ye will walk with him less in thepleasaunce. " Both women were standing, and Lady Cochrane was watchingJean to see whether she had touched her. Her daughter gave no signexcept that her face was hardening, and she tapped the floor with herfoot. 

"Ye may not have heard of Helen Graham, for she belongs to anotherworld from ours, and one I pray God ye may never see the inside of, for a black clan to Scotland have been the Grahams from the Marquishimself, who was a traitor to the Covenant and a scourge to Israel, tothis bonnie kinsman of his, who has the face of a woman and the dressof a popinjay and the heart of a fiend. Now, it happens that this fairlass, whom I pity both for her blood and for her company, for indeedshe is a daughter of Heth and hath the portion of her people, isheiress to the Earl of Monteith, and whaso-ever marries her willsucceed to what money there is and will be an earl in his own richt. Afine prize for an avaricious and ambitious worldling. 

"For years, then, as I was saying, Claverhouse has been schemingand plotting to capture Helen Graham and to make himself Earl o'Monteith. It wasna sic easy work as shootin' God's people on thehillside, and for a while the sun didna shine on his game. Some saythe Marquis wanted her for himself, and then John Graham ofClaverhouse would have to go behind like a little dog to hismaster's heel. Some say that her father had some compunction inhanding over his daughter into sic cruel hands. Some say that thelass had a lover of her own, though that is neither here nor therewith her folk. But it's no easy throwing a bloodhound off thetrack, and now I hear he has gained his purpose, and afore he leftthe Court and came back to his evil trade in Scotland the contractof marriage was settled, and ane o' these days we will be hearingthat a Graham has married a Graham, and that both o' them have gottenthe portion that belongeth to the unrighteous. Ye ken, Jean, that Ihave never loved the foolish gossip which fills the minds o' idlefolk when they had better be readin' their Bibles and praying fortheir souls, but I judged it expedient that ye should know thatClaverhouse is as gude as a married man. "

"If he were not, " said Jean, looking steadily at her mother, anddrawing herself up to her full height, "there is little danger hewould come to Paisley Castle for his love, or find a bride in my LadyCochrane's daughter. Ye have given me fair warning and have used veryplain speech, but I was wondering with myself all the time"--and thenas her mother waited and questioned her by a look--"whether miscallinga man black with the shameful lies of his enemies is not the surestway to turn the heart of a woman towards him. But doubtless ye kenbest. " Without further speech Jean left her mother's room, who feltthat she would have succeeded better if her daughter had been lesslike herself. 

Jean gave, truth to tell, little heed to the stories of Claverhouse'ssavagery, partly because rough deeds were being done on both sides, and they were not so much horrified in the West Country of that timeat the shooting of a man as we are in our delicate days; partly, also, because she had been fed on those horrors for years, and had learnedto regard Claverhouse and the other Royalist officers as men capableof any atrocity. Gradually the dramatic stories had grown stale andlost their bite, and when she noticed that with every new telling itwas necessary to strengthen the horrors, Jean had begun to regard themas works of political fiction. But this was another story aboutClaverhouse's engagement to Helen Graham. Jean would not admit toherself, even in her own room or in her own heart, that she was inlove with Graham, and she was ready to say to herself that no marriagecould be more preposterous than between a Cochrane and a Graham. Itdid not really matter to her whether he had been engaged or was goingto be engaged to one Graham or twenty Grahams. She had never seen himtill a few days ago, and very likely, having done all he wanted, hewould never come to Paisley Castle again. Their lives had touched justfor a space, and then would run forever afterwards apart. They hadpassed some pleasant hours together, and she would ever remember hisface; perhaps he might sometimes recall hers. So the little play wouldend without ill being done to her or him. Still, as she knew hermother was not overscrupulous, and any stick was good enough wherewithto beat Claverhouse, she would like to know, if only to gratify awoman's curiosity, whether Claverhouse was really going to marry thiskinswoman of his, and, in passing, whether he was the mercenaryadventurer of her mother's description. 

This was the reason of a friendly duel between that vivacious womanKirsty Howieson, Jean Cochrane's maid and humble friend, and thathard-headed and far-seeing man of Angus, Jock Grimond, Claverhouse'sservant and only too loyal clansman. 

"It's no true every time 'Like master like man'"--and Kirsty made abold opening, as was the way of her class--"for I never saw a womanwi' a bonnier face than Claverhouse, and, my certes, mony a lass wouldgive ten years o' her life, aye, and mair, for his brown curls and hisglancing een. I'm judgin' there have been sair hearts for him amangthe fair Court ladies. "

"Ye may weel say that, Kirsty, " answered Jock; "if Providence had beenpleased to give ye a coontinance half as winsome, nae doot ye wouldhave been married afore this, my lass. As for him, the women just rinafter Claverhouse in flooks. It doesna matter whether it be Holland orwhether it be London, whether it be duchesses at Whitehall ormerchants' daughters at Dundee, he could have married a hundred timesover wi' money and rank and beauty and power. Lord's sake! theopportunities he has had, and the risks he has run, it's been amerciful thing he had me by his side to be, if I may say it, a guideand a protector. "

"If the Almichty hasna done muckle for your face, Jock, He's given youa grand conceit o' yoursel', and that must be a rael comfort. I wishI'd a share o' it. So you have preserved your maister safe till thisday, and he's still gaeing aboot heart-free and hand-free. "

"Na, Kirsty"--and Grimond looked shrewdly at her--"I'll no say thatClaverhouse isna bound to marry some day or ither, and, of course, inhis posseetion it behove him to find a lady of his ain rank and hisain creed. Noo, what I'm tellin' ye is strictly between oorsel's, andye're no to mention it even to your ain mistress. Claverhouse iscontracted in marriage to Miss Helen Graham, the daughter of Sir JamesGraham, his own uncle, and the heiress to the Earl of Monteith. Yesee, Miss Helen is his kinswoman, and she brings him an earldom in herlap. Besides that she's verra takin' in her appearance and manner, andI needna say just hates a Covenanter as she would a brock (badger). It's a maist suitable match every way ye look at it, and it has myentire approbation. But no a word aboot this, mind ye, Kirsty--thoughI was juist thinkin' this afternoon of recommendin' Claverhouse to letthis contract be known. He's an honorable man, is the laird, and, byordinary, weel-livin'; but there's nae doot he is awfu' temptit bywomen, and I wouldna like to see their hearts broken. "

"A word in season to my Lady Jean, if I'm no sair mistaken"--and Jockchuckled to himself when Kirsty had gone--"and a warning to the lairdmicht no be amiss. It would be fine business for a Graham o'Claverhouse to marry a Covenantin' fanatic and the daughter o' sic amither. Dod! it would be fair ruin for his career, and misery forhimsel'. I'll no deny her looks, but I'll guarantee she has hermither's temper. What would Claverhouse have done without me--though Iwouldna say that to onybody except mysel'--he would have been just anobject--aye, aye, just a fair object. "

As Grimond had communicated the engagement of Claverhouse to HelenGraham under the form of a secret, he was perfectly certain thatKirsty would tell it that evening to her mistress and in the end tothe whole castle. But he thought it wise to reinforce the resolutionof the other side, and when he waited on his master that evening helaid himself out for instruction. 

"Ye would have laughed hearty, Mr. John, if you had heard the officersover their wine this afternoon in the town. Lord Ross wasna there, andso they had the freedom o' their tongues, and if Sir Adam Blair wasnaholdin' out that you had fallen in love wi' Lady Jean, and the nextthing they would hear would be a marriage that would astonishScotland. Earleshall nearly went mad, and said that if ye did that youwould be fairly bewitched, and that you might as well join theCovenanters. I tell ye, laird, they nearly quarrelled over it, and Iam telt they got so thirsty that they drank fourteen bottles o' claretto five o' them besides what they had before. Ye will excuse mementionin' this, for it's no for me to tell you what the gentlemenspeak aboot, but I thought a bit o' daffin' (amusement) micht lichtenye after the day's work. "

"It is no concern of mine what the officers say between themselves, and I've told you before, Grimond, that you are not to bring any idletales you pick up to my ears. You've done this more than once, and Ilay it on you not to do it again. "

"Surely, Mr. John, surely. I ken it's no becoming and I'll no give yecause to complain again. But as sure as death, when I heard themsaying it as I took in your message to Earleshall I nearly dropped onthe floor, I was that amused. Claverhouse married to a Covenanter! Itwas verra takin'. 

"Na, na, Mr. John, I kent better than that, but I'm no justcomfortable in my mind sae lang as ye are in Paisley Castle and in thecompany o' Lady Jean. Her mither is an able besom, and her youngladyship is verra deep. What I'm hearin' on the ither side o' thehedge is that she's trying to get round ye so as to get a pardon forSir John, and to let him come home from Holland. No, Claverhouse, yemaunna be angry wi' me, for I've waited on ye longer than ye mind, andI canna help bein' anxious. Ye are a grand soldier, and ye've been afine adviser to the government. There's no mony things ye're no fitfor, Mr. John, but the women are cunning, and have aye made a fule o'the men since Eve led Adam aff the straicht and made sic a mishantero' the hale race. They say doon stairs that Lady Jean is getting roondye fine, and that if it wasna that her family wanted something fromyou, you would never have had a blink o' her, ony mair than her auldjade o' a mither. For a hypocrite give me a Covenanter, and, ofcourse, the higher they are the cleverer. 

"Just ae word more, Claverhouse, and I pray ye no to be angry, forthere's naebody luves ye better than Jock Grimond. I hear things yecanna hear, and I see things ye canna see. Naebody would tell you thatLady Jean and Pollock, the Covenantin' minister, are as gude as manand wife. They may no be married yet, but they will be as sune as it'ssafe, and that's how he comes here so often. She has a good reason tospeak ye fair, laird, and she has a souple tongue and a beguilin' way, juist a Delilah. Laird, as sure as I'm a livin' man this is a hoose o'deceit, and we are encompassed wi' fausehood as wi' a garment. " Andalthough Claverhouse's rebuke was hot, Grimond felt that he had notsuffered in vain. 

CHAPTER IV

"THY PEOPLE SHALL BE MY PEOPLE, THY GOD MY GOD"

A month had passed before Claverhouse returned to Paisley, and thistime he made his headquarters in the town, and did not accept thehospitality of the castle, excusing himself on the ground of his manyand sudden journeys. His real reason was that he thought it better tokeep away, both for his own sake and that of Jean Cochrane. During hislonely rides he had time to examine the state of his feelings, andhe found himself more deeply affected than he thought; indeed heconfessed to himself that if he were to marry he should prefer Jeanto any other woman he had ever met. But he remembered her ancestry, especially her mother, and her creed, which was the opposite ofhis, and he knew that either she would not marry him because hewas the chief opponent of her cause, or if he succeeded in winningher, he would most likely be discredited at Court by this suspiciousmarriage. It was better not to see her, or to run any further risks. He had made many sacrifices--all his life was to be sacrificed forhis cause--and this would only be one more. He tried also to thinkthe matter out from her side, and although he hated to think thatshe was a traitress trying to ensnare him for her own ends, yet itmight be that her family were making a tool of her to seduce him fromthe path of duty, and although he doubted whether she was betrothedto Pollock, yet it might be true, and he certainly was not going tobe Pollock's unsuccessful rival. Altogether, it was expedient thatthey should not see one another, and Claverhouse contented himselfwith sending a courteous message by Lord Ross to the earl and LadyJean, and busied himself with his public and by no means agreeabletask of Covenanter-hunting. As, however, he had received the verythoughtful and generous hospitality of the castle on his lastvisit, and as Lord Ross was constantly saying that the earl wouldlike to see him, he determined to call on the afternoon before hisdeparture. Lady Cochrane, as usual, did not appear, and neither didher daughter, and after a futile conversation with Dundonald, whoseemed feebler than ever, Claverhouse left, and had it not been for asudden whim, as he was going through the courtyard, he had neverseen Jean Cochrane again, and many things would not have happened. But there was a way of reaching the town through the pleasaunce, and under the attraction of past hours spent among its treesClaverhouse turned aside, and walking down one of its grass walks, and thinking of an evening in that place with Jean, he came suddenlyupon her on her favorite seat beneath a spreading beech. 

"I crave your pardon, my Lady Jean, " said Claverhouse, recoveringhimself after an instant's discomposure, "for this intrusion upon yourchosen place and your meditation. My excuse is the peace of the gardenafter the wildness of the moors, but I did not hope to find so goodcompany. My success in Paisley Castle has been greater than among themoss-hags. "

"It is a brave work, Colonel Graham, to hunt unarmed peasants"--andfor the first time Claverhouse caught the ironical note in Jean'sspeech, and knew that for some reason she was nettled with him--"andit seems to bring little glory. Though, the story did come to ourears, it sometimes brought risk, and--perhaps it was a lie of theCovenanters--once ended in the defeat of his Majesty's Horse. I seemto forget the name of the place. "

"Yes, " replied Claverhouse with great good humor, "the rascals had thebetter of us at Drumclog. They might have the same to-morrow again, for the bogs are not good ground for cavalry, and fanatics are dourfighters. "

"It was Henry Pollock ye were after this time, we hear, and yefollowed him hard, but ye have not got him. It was a sair pity thatyou did not come a day sooner to the castle, and then you could havecaptured him without danger. " And Lady Jean mocked him openly. "Yewould have tied his hands behind his back and his feet below thehorse's belly, and taken him to Edinburgh with a hundred of hisMajesty's Horse before him and a hundred behind to keep him safe; yewould have been a proud man, Colonel Graham, when ye came andpresented the prisoner to your masters. May I crave of you the rightword, for I am only a woman of the country? Would Mr. Henry Pollockhave been a prisoner of war--of war?" she repeated with an accent andlook of vast contempt. 

Never had Claverhouse admired her more than at that moment, for thescorn on her face became her well, and he concluded that it mustspring from one of two causes. Most likely, after all, Pollock was herlover. 

"'Tis not possible, my Lady Jean, " softening his accent till it was assmooth as velvet, and looking at the girl through half-closed eyes, "to please everyone to whom he owes duty in this poor world. If I hadbeen successful for my master his Majesty the King--I cannot rememberthe name of any other master--then I would have arrested a rebel and amaker of strife in the land, and doubtless he would have suffered hisjust punishment. That would have been my part towards the king andtowards Mr. Henry Pollock, too, and therein have I for the timefailed. To-morrow, Lady Jean, I may succeed. "

"Perhaps, " she said, looking at him from a height, "and perhaps not. And to whom else do you owe a duty, and have you filled it better?"

"I owe a service to a most gracious hostess, and that is to please herin every way I can. Whether by my will or not, I have surely given yousatisfaction by allowing Mr. Henry Pollock to escape, instead ofbringing him tied with ropes to Paisley Castle. So far as myinformation goes you may sleep quietly to-night, for he is safe insome rebel's house. Yet I am sorry from my heart, " said Claverhouse, "and I am sorry for your sake, since I make no doubt he will die someday soon, either on the hill or on the scaffold. "

"For my sake?" said Jean, looking at him in amazement. "What have I todo with him more than other women?"

"If I have touched upon a secret thing which ought not to be spokenof, I ask your pardon upon my bended knees. But I was told, it seemedto me from a sure quarter, that there was some love passage betweenyou and Henry Pollock, and that indeed you were betrothed formarriage. "

As Claverhouse spoke the red blood flowed over Jean's face and ebbedas quickly. She looked at Claverhouse steadily, and answered him in aquiet and intense voice, which quivered with emotion. 

"Ye were told wrong, then, Claverhouse, for I have never beenbetrothed to any man, and I shall never be the wife of Henry Pollock. I am not worthy, for he is a saint, and God knows I am not that norever likely to be, but only a woman. But I tell you, face to face, that I respect him, suffering for his religion more than those whopursue him unto his death. And when he dies, for his testimony, hewill have greater honor than those who have murdered him. But they didme too much grace who betrothed me to Henry Pollock; if I am evermarried it will be to more ordinary flesh and blood, and I doubtme"--here her mood changed, and the tension relaxing, she smiled onClaverhouse--"whether it will be to any Covenanter. "

"Lady Jean, " said Claverhouse, with a new light breaking on him, forhe began to suspect another cause of her anger, "it concerns me to seeyou standing while there is this fair seat, and, with your leave, mayI sit beside you? Can you give me a few minutes of your time before wepart--I to go on my way and you on yours. I hope mine will not bringme again to Paisley Castle, where I am, as the hillmen would say, 'astumbling-block and an offence. '" Jean, glancing quickly at him, sawthat Claverhouse was not mocking, but speaking with a note of sadsincerity. 

"When you said a brief while ago that mine was work without glory, yesaid truly. But consider that in this confused and dark world, inwhich we grope our way like shepherds in a mist, we have to do whatlies to our hand, and ask no questions--and the weariness of it isthat in the darkness we strike ane another. We know not which beright, and shall not know till the day breaks: we maun just do ourduty, and mine, by every drop of my blood, is to the king and theking's side. But mind ye, Lady Jean, it will not be always through themoss-hags--chasing shepherds, ploughmen and sic-like; by and by itwill be on the battle-field, when this great quarrel is settled inScotland. May the day not be far off, and may the richt side win. "

As Claverhouse spoke he leaned back in the corner of the seat andlooked into the far distance, while his face lost its changingexpressions of cynicism, severity, gracious courtesy and keenscrutiny, and showed a nobility which Jean had never seen before. Shenoticed how it invested his somewhat effeminate beauty with manlinessand dignity. 

"That is true"--and Jean's voice grew gentler--"nane kens that betterthan myself, for nane has been more tossed in mind than I have been. Ilka man, and also woman, must walk the road as they see it beforethem, and do their part till the end comes; but the roads crossterribly on the muirs in the West Country. If I was uncivil a minutesyne I crave your pardon, for that was not my mind. But if rumor betrue it matters not to you what any man says, far less my LadyCochrane's daughter, for ye were made to gang yir ain gait. "

"Ye are wrong there, Lady Jean, far wrong, " Claverhouse suddenlyturned round and looked at her with a new countenance. "I will notdeny that I am made to be careless about the strife of tongues, and togive little heed whether the world condemns or approves if I do mydevoir rightly to my lord the king. But it would touch me to the heartwhat you thought of me. They say that a woman knows if a man lovesher, even though his love be sudden and unlikely, and if that be so, then surely you have seen, as we walked in this pleasaunce those fairevenings, that I have loved you from the moment I saw you in the hallthat day. Confess it, Jean, if that be not so. I, with what I heard ofPollock, was bound in honor to be silent. "

"Was Pollock the only bond of honor?" and Jean blazed on him withsudden fury. "Is there no other tie that should keep you from speakingof love to me and offering me insult in my father's house? Is this thechivalry of a Royalist, and am I, Jean Cochrane, to be treated like alight lady of the Court, or some poor lass of the countryside ye canplay with at your leisure? Pleased by your notice and then flungaside like a flower ye wore till it withered. "

"Before God, what do ye mean by those words?" They were both standingnow, and Graham's face was white as death. "Is the love of John Grahamof Claverhouse a dishonor?"

"It is, and so is the love of any man if he be pledged to anotherwoman. Though we go not to Court, think you I have not heard of HelenGraham, the heiress of Monteith, and your courting of her--where, thestory goes, ye have been more successful than catching ministers ofthe kirk? Ye would play with me! I thank God my brother lives, andthey say he is no mean swordsman. "

"If it were as you believe, my lady, and I had spoken of love to youwhen I was betrothed to another woman, then ye did well and worthy ofyour blood to be angry, and my Lord Cochrane's sword, if it had foundits way to my heart, had rid the world of a rascal. Rumor is oftenwrong, and it has told you false this time. I deny not, since I am onmy confession, that I desired to wed Helen Graham, and I will also sayfreely, though it also be to my shame, that I desired to win her, notonly because she was a Graham and a gracious maiden, but because Ishould obtain rank and power, for I have ever hungered for both, thatwith them I might serve my cause. My suit did not prosper, so that wewere never betrothed, and now I hear she is to be married to CaptainRawdon, the nephew of my Lord Conway. I would have married HelenGraham in her smock if need be, though I say again I craved thattitle, and I would have been a faithful husband to her. But I havenever loved her, nor any other woman before. Love, Jean"--he went on, and they both unconsciously had seated themselves a little apart--"islike the wind spoken of in the Holy Gospel. It bloweth where itlisteth, and is not to be explained by reasons. In my coming and goingto Court I have seen many fair women, and some of them have smiled onme and tried to take me by the lure of their eyes, but none has everbeen so bonnie to me as you, Jean, and your hair of burnished gold. Doubtless I have met holier women than you, though my way has not lainmuch among the saints, but though one should show me a hundred faultsin you, ye are to me to-day the best, and I declare if ye had sinned Iwould love you for your sins only less than for your virtues. I loveyou as a man should love a woman: altogether, your fair body from thecrown of your head to the sole of your foot, your hair, your eyes, your mouth, your hands, the way you hold your head, the way you walk, your white teeth when you smile, and the dimple on your cheek. Yourself, too, the Jean within that body, with your courage, yourpride, your scorn, your temper, your fierce desires, your fieryjealousies, your changing moods. And your passion, with its demands, with its surrenders, with its caresses, with its pain. You, JeanCochrane, as you are and as you shall be, with all my heart and withall my body, with all my loyalty, next to that I give my king, I loveyou, Jean. " He leaned towards her as he spoke, and all the passionthat was hidden behind his girl face and Court manner--the passionthat had made him the most daring of soldiers, and was to make him themost successful of leaders--poured from his eyes, from his lips, fromhis whole self, like a hot stream, enveloping, overwhelming andcaptivating her. Strong as she was in will and character, she couldnot speak nor move, but only looked at him, with eyes wide open, fromthe midst of the wealth of her golden hair. 

[Illustration: She could not speak nor move, but only looked at him. Page 166. ]

"Do I not know the sacrifice I am asking if you should consent to bemy wife? Jean, I will tell you true: not for my love even and yourbonnie self will I lie or palter with my faith. You will have to cometo me, I will not go to you; you will have to break with the Covenant, leave your father's house and face your mother's anger, and bedenounced by the godly, up and down the land, because ye married theman of blood and the persecutor of the saints. I will not change, yeunderstand that? No, not for the warm, soft clasp of your white armsround my neck; no, not though ye tie me with the meshes of yourshining hair. I judge that ye will not be a temptress, but I give youwarning I am no Sampson, in his weakness to a woman's witchery, whenit comes to my faith and my duty. I will love you night and day as aman loveth a woman, but I will do what I am told to do, even though itbe against your own people, till the evil days be over. And it may be, Jean, that I shall have to lead a hopeless cause. Ye must be willingto give me to death without a grudge, and send me with a kiss to servethe king. 

"Can you do this"--and now his voice sank almost to a whisper, and hestretched his hands towards her--"for the sake of love, for love'ssake only, for the sight of my face, for the touch of my lips, for theclasp of my arms, for the service of my heart, for myself? If yeshould, I will be a true man to you, Jean, till death us do part. Ihave not been better than other men, but women have never made me playthe fool, and even your own folk, who hate me, will tell you that Ihave been a clean liver. And now I will never touch or look on anyother woman in the way of love save you. If I have to leave your sideto serve the king, I will return when the work is done, and all thetime I am away my love will be returning to you. If you be not in myempty arms, you shall ever be in my heart; if I win honor or wealth, it will now be for you. If I can shelter you from sorrows and trouble, I will do so with my life, and if I die my last thought, after thecause, will be of you, my lady and my love. 

"Jean Cochrane, can you trust yourself to me; will you be the wife ofJohn Graham of Claverhouse?"

They had risen as by an instinct, and were facing one another wherethe light of the setting sun fell softly upon them through the frettedgreenery of the beech tree. 

"For life, John Graham, and for death, " and as she said "death" heclasped her in his arms. The brown hair mingled with the gold, theylooked into one another's eyes, and their lips met in a long, passionate kiss, renewed again and again, as if their souls had flowedtogether. Then she disentangled herself and stood a pace away, andlaying her hands upon his shoulders and looking steadfastly at him, she said: "Whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I willlodge, thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. "

The sooner they were married the better pleased John Graham and JeanCochrane would be, for life in Paisley Castle could not be a paradisefor Jean after that betrothal. Three weeks later Claverhouse rode downone Saturday from Edinburgh to Paisley against his marriage day on thefollowing Tuesday. His love for Jean had steadily grown during thosedays, and now was in a white heat of anticipation, for she was no nun, but a woman to stir a man's senses. Yet there were many things tochasten and keep him sober. No sooner was it known that he was tomarry Lady Cochrane's daughter and the granddaughter of Lord Cassillisthan his rivals in the high places of Scotland and at Whitehall didtheir best to injure him, setting abroad stories that he was no longerloyal, and that in future he would play into the hands of the enemy. His young wife would certainly get round him and shake his integrity, and it would not be wise to trust Claverhouse with secrets of graveaffairs. It was prophesied that this amazing and incongruous marriage, the mating of opposites, would only work ruin to his career, and thatindeed this was the beginning of the end for Claverhouse. LadyCochrane, raging like a fiend in Paisley Castle, did not fail, in theinterludes of invective against her daughter for disgracing their goodname and giving herself into the hands of the cruelest enemy of thekirk, to remind Jean also that she was doing the worst injury to theman she professed to love, and that in the end Claverhouse would betwice damned--for his sin against the Covenanters and for hisdisloyalty to his own cause. Jean was, of all women, most capable ofholding her own even with her masterful mother, and Claverhouse wasperfectly confident that neither Lady Cochrane nor her family would beable to shake Jean's fidelity. But there were times, and they were herbitterest hours, when Jean was not sure whether she had not doneselfishly and was not going to satisfy her love at the expense of herlover. On his part, he could not help being anxious, for it seemed asif every man of his own party had turned his hand against him. Withall his severity, Claverhouse had a just mind, and he offendedQueensberry by protesting against the severity of the law; while theDuke of Perth, an unprincipled vagabond, ready to play traitor toeither king or religion, hated Claverhouse because he was an honorableman. Claverhouse thought it necessary to write to the Duke of York, explaining the circumstances of his marriage and assuring him of hiscontinued loyalty, and to the Duke of Hamilton, whose daughter was tobe married to young Lord Cochrane, testifying to the integrity ofJean. "For the young lady herself, I shall answer for her. Had shebeen right principled she would never in despyt of her mother andrelations made choyse of a persecutor, as they call me. So, whoeverthink to misrepresent me on that head will find themselves mistaken;for both the king and the church's interest, dryve as fast as theythink fit, they will never see me behind. "

Lord Dundonald himself was pleased because the marriage securedClaverhouse's influence, and so were his personal friends, such asLord Ross, who knew and admired Jean; Claverhouse could not hide fromhimself, however, that the world judged the marriage an irreparablemistake, and Grimond, so far as he dared--but he had now to be verycareful--rubbed salt into the wound. All the omens were against them, and when on the Sunday Claverhouse sat beside his bride in the Abbeychurch, the people gave them a cold countenance, and as they went upthe street true Presbyterians turned their faces from Claverhouse. Themarriage service was performed in the gallery of the castle, and theminister officiating was one who had taken the indulgence and wasavoided by the stricter people of the kirk. The contract was signed byLord Dundonald and the old countess with weak and feeble hands, butthe bride and bridegroom placed their names with strong andunhesitating characters. Lord Ross stood beside his commanding officeras best man, and young Lord Cochrane was also present, full ofgood-will and sympathy, for was he not himself about to marry thedaughter of the Duke of Hamilton? But neither Dundonald's weaklyapproval nor the gayety of the young men could lift the shadow thatfell within and without, both in the gallery and in the courtyard ofthe castle, upon the marriage of Claverhouse and Jean Cochrane. Newshad come two days before that there had been a rising among theCovenanters, and Claverhouse was ordered to pursue them with hiscavalry. His regiment was in the district, and while the service wasgoing on in the castle, his horse was saddled in the courtyard, and aguard of troopers were making ready to start. The sound of thechamping of bits and the clinking of spurs came up through the quietsummer air and mingled with the prayer of the minister. Lady Cochranewas not supposed to be present, but when the minister asked if anyonecould show just cause why this marriage should not be performed, sheappeared suddenly from an alcove where she had been sheltered behindthe servants. Stepping forward, she said, with an unfaltering voice, vibrant with solemn indignation, "_In the name of God_ and in my own, I, the mother of Jean Cochrane, forbid this marriage, because she ismarrying against my will, and joining herself to the persecutor ofGod's people; because she is turning herself against her father'shouse and forsaking the faith of her father's God. " The ministerpaused for a moment, for he was a quiet man and stood in awe of LadyCochrane; he looked anxiously at the bride and bridegroom. "I havemade my choice, " said Jean, "and I adhere to it with my mind andheart, " and Claverhouse, with a smile and bow, bade the minister dohis duty. When they were married there was a moment's stillness, during which the bridegroom kissed the bride, and then Lady Cochranespoke again. "Ye have gone your own way and done your own will, JohnGraham and Jean Cochrane, and the curse of God's kirk and of a mothergoes with you. The veil is lifted from before my eyes, and I prophesythat neither the bridegroom nor the bride will die in their beds. There are those here present who will witness one day that I havespoken true. "

Claverhouse led his bride to the wing of the castle, where she lived, and from which she could look down on the courtyard. At the door ofher room he kissed her again and bade her good-by. "This is what yehave got, Jean, by marrying me, " and his smile was dashed withsadness. Two minutes later he rode out from the courtyard of thecastle to hunt the people of Lady Cochrane's faith, while her daughterand his bride waved him God speed from her window. 

BOOK III

CHAPTER I

ONE FEARLESS MAN

Above the town of Dundee, and built to command the place, stood, at thedate of our tale, Dudhope Castle, a good specimen of Scots architecture, which in its severity and strength is, like architecture everywhere, thephysical incarnation of national creed and character. The hardness ofDudhope was softened in those days by what was not usual in the case ofkeeps and other warlike buildings, for Dudhope was set in the midst ofsloping fields where cattle browsed, and had also round it risingplantations of wood. Before the castle there was a terrace, and fromit one looked down upon the little town, nestling under the shelter ofthe castle, and across the Firth of Tay to Fifeshire, where so muchScots history had been made. It was to Dudhope Claverhouse brought hisbride, after that stormy honeymoon which she had to spend under the shadowof her mother's hot displeasure in Paisley Castle, and he occupiedwith the weary hunt of Covenanters up and down the West Country. Theirwedding day was the 10th of June, but it was not till August thatClaverhouse and his wife came home to Dudhope. Since then four years havepassed, during which the monotony of his duty in hunting Covenanters hadbeen relieved by the office of Provost of Dundee, in which it is said heruled severely, and the sameness of Jean's life at Dudhope by a visitto the Court of London, where she produced a vast impression, and wassaid to have been adored in the highest quarter. There were hours whenshe felt very lonely, although she would not have confessed this, beinga woman of invincible spirit and fortified by the courage of her love. She never knew when her husband would be called away for one of hishunts, and though there were many Loyalist families in Forfarshire, itwas not a time for easy social intercourse, and Jean was conscious thatthe Carnegies and the rest of them of the old Cavalier stock lookedaskance at her, and suspected the black Covenanting taint in her blood. Claverhouse, like a faithful gentleman, had done his best to concealfrom her the injury which his marriage had done him, but she knew that hiscunning and bitter enemy, the Duke of Queensberry, had constantlyinsinuated into the mind of the Duke of York and various high personagesin London that no one who had married Lady Cochrane's daughter could, inthe nature of things, be perfectly loyal. It was really for this lovethat he had lost the post of commander-in-chief in Scotland, to which hewas distinctly entitled, and had experienced the insult of having hisname removed from the Scots Council. It might be her imagination, butit seemed as if his fellow officers and other friends, whom she metfrom time to time, were not at ease with her. She was angry when theyrefrained from their customary frank expressions about her mother'sparty, just as she would have been angry if they had said the thingsthey were accustomed to say in her presence. Claverhouse assured her onthose happy days when he was living at Dudhope, and when they could belovers among the woods there, as they had been in the pleasaunce atPaisley Castle, that he never regretted his choice, and that she wasthe inspiration of his life. It was pleasant to hear him repeat hislove vows, with a passion as hot and words as moving as in the days oftheir courtship, and the very contrast between his unbending severityas a soldier and his grace as a lover made him the more fascinating toa woman who was herself of the lioness breed. All the same, she could notforget that Claverhouse would have done better for himself if he hadmarried into one of the great Scots houses of his own party--and therewere few in which he would not have been welcome--and that indeed hecould not have done much worse for his future than in marrying her. Itwas a day of keen rivalry among the Royalists, and a more unprincipledand disreputable gang than the king's Scots ministers could not befound in any land; indeed Claverhouse was the only man of honoramongst them. His battle to hold his own and achieve his legitimateambition was very hard, and certainly he needed no handicap. JeanGraham was haunted with the reflection that Claverhouse's wife, insteadof being a help, was a hindrance to her husband, and that if it were notfor the burden of her Covenanting name, he would have climbed easily tothe highest place. Nor could she relish the change of attitude of thecommon people towards her, and the difference in atmosphere betweenPaisley and Dundee. Once she had been accustomed to receive arespectful, though it might be awkward, salutation from the dour WestCountry folk, and to know that, though in her heart she was not insympathy with them, the people in the town, where her mother reignedsupreme, felt kindly towards her, as the daughter of that godlyCovenanting lady. In Dundee, where the ordinary people sided with thePresbyterians and only the minority were with the Bishops, men turned awaytheir faces when she passed through the place, and the women cried "BloodyClaverse!" as she passed. She knew without any word of abuse that both sheand her husband were bitterly hated, because he was judged a persecutorand she a renegade. They were two of the proudest people in Scotland, but although Claverhouse gave no sign that he cared for the people'sloathing, she often suspected that he felt it, being a true Scotsgentleman, and although Jean pretended to despise Covenanting fanaticism, she would rather have been loved by the folk round her than hated. While she declared to Graham that her deliverance from her mother'sparty, with their sermons, their denunciations, their narrowness andthat horrible Covenant, had been a passage from bondage to liberty, therewere times, as she paced the terrace alone and looked out on the graysea of the east coast, when the contradictory circumstances of herlife beset her and she was troubled. When she was forced to listen tothe interminable harangues of hill preachers, sheltering for a night inthe castle, and day by day was resisting the domination of her mother, her mind rose in revolt against the Presbyterians and all their ways. When she was among men who spoke of those hillmen as if they werevermin to be trapped, and as if no one had breeding or honor orintelligence or sincerity except the Cavaliers, she was again goadedinto opposition. Jean had made her choice both of her man and of hercause--for they went together--with her eyes open, and she was not awoman to change again, nor to vex herself with vain regrets. It wasrather her nature to decide once for all, and then to throw herselfwithout reserve into her cause, and to follow without question her manthrough good report and ill, through right, and, if need be, wrong. Yetshe was a shrewd and high-minded woman, and not one of those fortunatefanatics who can see nothing but good on one side, and nothing but ill onthe other. Life had grown intolerable in her mother's house, and Jeanhad not in her the making of a convinced and thoroughgoing Covenanter, and in going over to the other party, she had, on the whole, fulfilledherself, as well as found a mate of the same proud spirit. But shewas honest enough to admit to herself that those Ayrshire peasants weredying for conscience' sake, though she might think it a narrowconscience, and were sincere in their piety, though she might think it anunattractive religion. And she could not shut her eyes to the fact thatthere was little glory in shooting them down like muirfowl, or that themen of Claverhouse's side were too often drunken and evil-living bravos. 

Jean was feeling the situation in its acuteness that evening as sheread for the third time a letter which had come from Edinburgh by thehands of Grimond. At the sight of the writing her pulse quickened, andGrimond marked, with jealous displeasure (for that impracticable Scotnever trusted Jean), the flush of love upon her cheek and its joy inher eyes. She now drew the letter from her bosom, and this is what sheread, but in a different spelling from ours and with some slightdifferences in construction, all of which have been translated:

 SWEETHEART: It is my one trouble when I must leave you, and save when I am engaged on the king's work my every thought is with you, for indeed it appeareth to me that if I loved you with strong desire on the day of our marriage, I love you more soul and body this day. When another woman speaks to me in the daytime, though they say that she is fair, her beauty coming into comparison with your's, is disparaged, beside the sheen of your hair and the richness of your lips, and though she may have a pleasant way with men, as they tell me, she hath no lure for me, as I picture you throw back your head and look at me with eyes that challenge my love. When the night cometh, and the task of the day is done, I hold you in my embrace, the proudest woman in Scotland, and you say again, as on that day in the pleasaunce, "For life, John Graham, and for death. "

 It has not been easy living for you, Jean, since that marriage-day, when the trumpets were our wedding-bells, and your mother's curse our benediction, and I take thought oftentimes that it has been harder for thee, Sweetheart, than for me. I had the encounters of the field with open enemies and of the Council with false friends, but thou hast had the loneliness of Dudhope, when I was not there to caress you and kiss away your cares. Faithful have you been to the cause, and to me, and I make boast that I have not been unfaithful myself to either, but the sun has not been always shining on our side of the hedge and there have been some chill blasts. Yet they have ever driven us closer into one another's arms, and each coming home, if it has been like the first from the work of war, has been also like it a new marriage-day. Say you is it not true, Sweetheart, we be still bridegroom and bride, and shall be to the end?

 When I asked you to be my wife, Jean, I told you that love even for you would not hinder me from doing the king's work, but this matter I have had on hand in Edinburgh has tried me sorely, --though one in the Council would guess at my heart. I have also the fear that it will vex you greatly. Mayhap you have heard, for such news flies fast, that we lighted upon Henry Pollock and a party of his people last week. They were going to some preaching and were taken unawares, and we captured them all, not without blows and blood. Pollock himself fought as ye might expect, like a man without fear, and was wounded. I saw that his cuts were bound up, and that he had meat and drink. We brought him on horseback to Edinburgh, treating him as well as we could, for while I knew what the end would be, and that he sought no other, I do not deny that he is an honest man and I do not forget that he loved you. Yesterday he was tried before the Council, and I gave strong evidence against him. Upon my word it was that he was declared guilty of rebellion against the king's authority, and was condemned to death. None other could I do, Jean, for he that spared so dangerous and stalwart an enemy as Pollock, is himself a traitor, but when the Council were fain to insult him I rebuked them sharply and told them to their face that among them there was no spirit so clean and brave. This morning he was executed and since there was a fear lest the people who have greatly loved him should attempt to rescue, I was present with two troops of horse. It needeth not me to tell you that he died well, bidding farewell to earth and welcome to heaven in words I cannot forget, tho' they sounded strange to me. Sweetheart, I will say something boldly in thine ear. I have had little time to think of heaven and little desire for such a place, but I would count myself fortunate if in the hour of death I were as sure of winning there as Henry Pollock. So he died for his side, and I helped him to his death; some day I may die for my side, and his friends will help me to my death. It is a dark day and a troubled nation. Henry Pollock and John Graham have both been thorough. God is our judge, wha kens but He may accept us baith? But I cannot deny he was a saint, as ye once said of him, and that I shall never be, neither shall you, Jean Graham, my love and my heart's delight

 This is sore writing to me, but I would rather ye had it from my hand than from another's, and I fear me ye will hear bitter words in Dundee of what has been done. This is the cup we have to drink and worse things may yet be coming, for I have the misgiving that black danger is at hand and that the king will have to fight for his crown. Before long, if I be not a false prophet, my old general, the Prince of Orange, will do his part to wrest the throne from his own wife's father. If he does the crown will not be taken without one man seeing that other crowns be broken, but I fear me, Jean, I fear greatly. In Scotland the king's chief servants be mostly liars and cowards, seeking every man after his own interest, with the heart of Judas Iscariot, and in London I doubt if they be much better. These be dreary news, and I wish to heaven I had better to send thee. This I can ever give, unless ye answer me that it is yours before, the love of my inmost heart till I am able to give you it in the kiss of my lips, with your arms again flung about me, as on that day. Till our meeting and for evermore, my dearest lady and only Sweetheart first and last, I am your faithful lover and servant, JOHN GRAHAM. 

So it had come to pass as she had often feared, that Pollock would dieby Claverhouse's doing, and now she had not been a woman if her heartwere not divided that evening between her lovers, although she had nohesitation either then or in the past about her preference. Jean knewshe was not made to be the wife of an ascetic, but never could sheforget the look in Pollock's eyes when he told her of his love, norcease to be proud that he had done her the chief honor a man canrender to a woman. She knew then, and she knew better to-day, that shehad never loved Pollock, and never indeed could have loved him as awoman loves her husband. But she revered him then, and he would haveforever a place in her heart like the niche given to a saint, and shehoped that his prayers for her--for she knew he would intercede forher--would be answered in the highest. Nor could she refrain from thecomparison between Pollock and Graham. In some respects they were solike one another, both being men of ancient blood and high tradition, both carrying themselves without shame and without fear, both beingfanatics--the one for religion and the other for loyalty--and, itmight be, both alike to be martyrs for their faith. And so unlike--theone unworldly, spiritual, and, save in self-defence, gentle and meek;the other charged with high ambition, fond of power, ready for battle, gracious in gay society, passionate in love. Who had the better of itin the fight--her debonair husband, with his body-guard of dragoons, striking down and capturing a minister and a handful of shepherds, orthat pure soul, who lived preaching and praying, and was willing todie praying and fighting against hopeless odds? She had cast in herlot with the Royalists, but it came over her that in the eternaljustice Pollock, dying on the scaffold, was already victor, andGraham, who sent him there, was already the loser. If it had beencruel writing for Claverhouse, it was cruel reading for his wife, andyet, when she had read it over again, the passage on Pollock fadedaway as if it had been spiritualized and no longer existed for theearthly sense. She only lingered over the words of devotion andpassion, and when she kissed again and again his signature she knewthat whether he was to win or to be beaten, whether he was right orwrong, angel or devil--and he was neither--she belonged with her wholedesire to Claverhouse. 

Claverhouse's letter to his wife was written in May, and by Octoberhis gloomy forebodings regarding the king were being verified. Duringthe autumn William of Orange had been preparing to invade England, andit was freely said he would come on the invitation of the Englishpeople and as the champion of English liberty. From the beginning ofthe crisis James was badly advised, and showed neither nerve nordiscernment, and among other foolish measures was the withdrawal ofthe regular troops from Scotland and their concentration at London. From London James made a feeble campaign in the direction of the west, and Claverhouse, who was in command of the Scots Cavalry, and whosemind was torn between contempt for the feebleness of the militarymeasures and impatience to be at the enemy, wrote to Jean, sendingher, as it seemed to be his lot, mixed news of honor and despair. 

 _For the fair hands of the Viscountess of Dundee, and Lady Graham of Claverhouse. _

 MY DEAREST LADY: If I have to send ye evil tidings concerning the affairs of the king, which can hardly be worse, let me first acquaint you with the honor His Majesty has bestowed upon me, and which I count the more precious because it bringeth honor to her who is dearer to me than life, and who has suffered much trouble through me. Hitherto our marriage has meant suffering of many kinds for my Sweetheart, though I am fain to believe there has been more consolation in our love, but now it is charged with the King's favor and high dignity in the State. Whatever it be worth for you and me, and however long or short I be left to enjoy it, I have been made a Peer of Scotland by the titles written above, and what I like best in the matter, is that the peerage has been given--so it runs, and no doubt a woman loves to read such things of her man--for "Many good and eminent services rendered to His Majesty, and his dearest Royal brother, King Charles II, by his right trusty and well-beloved Councilor, Major-General John Graham of Claverhouse; together with his constant loyalty and firm adherence upon all occasions to the true interests of the crown. " Whatever befalls me it pleases me that the king knows I have been loyal and that he is grateful for one faithful servant. So I kiss the hand of my Lady Viscountess and were I at Dudhope I might venture upon her lips, aye, more than once. 

 When I leave myself and come unto the King I have nothing to tell but what fills me with shame and fear. It was not good policy to call the troops from Scotland, where we could have held the land for the King, but one had not so much regret if we had been allowed to strike a blow against the Usurper. Had there been a heart in my Lord Feversham--it hurts me to reflect on the King--then the army should have made a quick march into the West, gathering round it all the loyal gentlemen, and struck a blow at the Prince before he had established himself in the land. By God's help we had driven him and his Dutchmen, and the traitors who have flocked to him, into the sea. But it is with a sore heart I tell thee, tho' this had better be kept to thy secret council, that there seemeth to be neither wisdom nor courage amongst us. His Majesty has been living in the Bishop's Palace, and does nothing at the time, when to strike quickly is to strike for ever. Officers in high place are stealing away like thieves, and others who remain are preaching caution, by which they mean safety for themselves and their goods. "Damn all caution, " say I, to Feversham and the rest of them, "let us into the saddle and forward, let us strike hard and altogether, for the King and our cause!" If we win it will be a speedy end to rebellion and another Sedgemoor; if we are defeated, and I do not despise the Scots Brigade with Hugh MacKay, we shall fall with honor and not be a scorn to coming generations. For myself, were it not for thee, Jean, I should crave no better end than to fall in a last charge for the King and the good cause. As it is, unless God put some heart into our leaders, the army will melt away like snow upon a dyke in the springtime, and William will have an open road to London and the throne of England. He may have mair trouble and see some bloodshed before he lays his hand on the auld crown of Scotland. When I may get awa to the North countrie I know not yet, but whether I be in the South, where many are cowards and some are traitors, or in the North, where the clans at least be true, and there be also not a few loyal Lowland Cavaliers, my love is ever with thee, dear heart, and warm upon my breast lies the lock of your golden hair. 

 Yours till death, DUNDEE. 

God was not pleased to reënforce the king's advisers, and his causefell rapidly to pieces. Claverhouse withdrew the Scots Cavalry to theneighborhood of London, and wore out his heart in the effort to putmanhood into his party, which was now occupied in looking after theirown interests in the inevitable revolution. And again Claverhouse, or, as we should call him, Dundee, wrote to Jean:

 DEAREST AND BRAVEST OF WOMEN: Were ye not that, as I know well, I had no heart in me to write this letter, for I have no good thing to tell thee about the cause of the King and it seems to me certain that, for the time at least, England is lost. I am now in London, and the days are far harder for me than when I campaigned with the Usurper, and fought joyfully at Seneffe and Grave. It is ill to contain oneself when a man has to go from one to another of his comrades and ask him for God's sake and the King's sake to play the man. Then to get nothing but fair and false words, and to see the very officers that hold the King's commission shuffling and lying, with one eye on King James and the other on the Prince of Orange. Had I my way of it I would shoot a dozen of the traitors to encourage the others. But the King is all for peace--peace, forsooth! when his enemies are at the door of the palace. What can one man do against so many, and a King too tolerant and good-natured--God forgive me, I had almost written too weak? It is not for me to sit in judgment on my Sovereign, but some days ago I gave my mind to Hamilton in his own lodgings, where Balcarres and certain of us met to take council. There were hot words, and no good came of it. Balcarres alone is staunch, and yesterday he went with me to Whitehall and we had our last word for the present with the King. He was gracious unto us, as he has ever been to me when his mind was not poisoned by Queensberry or Perth, and ye might care to know, Jean, what your man, much daring, said to His Majesty: "We have come, Sir, to ask a favor of your Majesty, and that ye will let us do a deed which will waken the land and turn the tide of affairs. Have we your permission to cause the drums to be beat of every regiment in London and the neighbourhood, for if ye so consent there will be twenty thousand men ready to start to-morrow morning. Before to-morrow night the road to London will be barred, and, please God, before a week is over your throne will be placed beyond danger. " For a space I think he was moved and then the life went out of him, and he sadly shook his head. "It is too late, " he said, "too late, and the shedding of blood would be vain. " But I saw he was not displeased with us, and he signified his pleasure that we should walk with him in the Mall. Again I dared to entreat him not to leave his capital without a stroke, and in my soul I wondered that he could be so enduring. Had it been your man, Jean, he had been at the Prince's throat before the Dutchman had been twenty-four hours in England. But who am I to reflect upon my King? and I will say it, that he spake words to me I can never forget. "You are brave men, " said the King, and, though he be a cold man, I saw that he was touched, "and if there had been twenty like you among the officers and nobles, things had not come to this pass. Ye can do nothing more in England, and for myself I have resolved to go to France, for if I stayed here I would be a prisoner, and there is but a short road between the prison and the graves of Kings. To you, " he said to Balcarres, "I leave the charge of civil affairs in Scotland, " and, then turning to me, "You, Lord Dundee, who ought before to have had this place, but I was ill-advised, shall be commander of the troops in Scotland. Do for your King what God gives you to do, and he pledges his word to aid you by all means in his power, and in the day of victory to reward you. " We knelt and kissed his hand, and so for the time, heaven grant it be not forever, bade goodbye to our Sovereign. As I walked down the Mall I saw a face I seemed to know, and the man, whoever he was, made a sign that he would speak with me. I turned aside and found to my amazement that the stranger, who was not in uniform, and did not court observation, was Captain Carlton, who served with me in the Prince's army and of whom ye may have heard me speak. A good soldier and a fair-minded gentleman, tho' of another way of thinking from me. After a brief salutation he told me that the Prince was already in London and had taken up his quarters at Zion House. 

 "Then, " said I to him, "it availeth nothing for some of us to remain in London, it were better that we should leave quickly. " "It might or it might not be, " he replied, being a man of few and careful words, "but before you go there is a certain person who desires to have a word with you. If it be not too much toil will you lay aside your military dress, and come with me this evening as a private gentleman to Zion House?" Then I knew that he had come from the Prince, and altho' much tossed in my mind as to what was right to do, I consented, and ye will be astonished, Jean, to hear what happened. 

 There was none present at my audience, and I contented myself with bowing when I entered his presence, for your husband is not made to kiss the hands of one king in the morning and of another in the evening of the same day. The Prince, for so I may justly call him, expected none otherwise, and, according to his custom--I have often spoken of his silence--said at once, "My lord, " for he knows everything as is his wont, "it has happened as I prophesied, you are on one side and I am on another, and you have been a faithful servant to your master, as I told him you would be. If it had been in your power, I had not come so easily to this place, for the council you gave to the King has been told to me. All that man can do, ye have done, and now you may, like other officers, take service in the army under my command. " Whereupon I told the Prince that our house had never changed sides, and he would excuse me setting the example. He seemed prepared for this answer, and then he said, "You purpose, my lord, to return to Scotland, and I shall not prevent you, but I ask that ye stir not up useless strife and shed blood in vain, for the end is certain. " I will not deny, Jean, that I was moved by his words, for he is a strong man, and has men of the same kind with him. So far I went as to say that if duty did not compell me I would not trouble the land. More I could not promise, and I reckon there is not much in that promise, for I will never see the Prince of Orange made King of Scotland with my sword in its sheath. If there be any other way out of it, I have no wish to set every man's hand against his neighbour's in Scotland. He bowed to me and I knew that the audience was over, and when I left Zion House, my heart was sore that my King was not as wise and resolute as this foreign Prince. The second sight has been given to me to-day, and, dear heart, I see the shroud rising till it reaches the face, but whose face I cannot see. What I have to do, I cannot see either, but in a few days I shall be in Edinburgh, with as many of my horse as I can bring. If peace be consistent with honor then ye will see me soon in Dudhope for another honeymoon, but if it is to be war my lot is cast, and, while my hand can hold it, my sword belongs to the King. But my heart, sweet love, is thine till it ceases to beat. 

 Yours always and altogether, DUNDEE. 

CHAPTER II

THE CRISIS

Early springtime is cruel on the east coast of Scotland, and it was abitter morning in March when Dundee took another of his many farewellsbefore he left his wife to attend the Convention at Edinburgh. It wasonly a month since he had come down from London, disheartened for themoment by the treachery of Royalists and the timidity of James, and hehad found relief in administrating municipal affairs as Provost ofDundee. If it had been possible in consistence with his loyalty to theJacobite cause, and the commission he had received from James, Dundeewould have gladly withdrawn from public life and lived quietly withhis wife. He was an ambitious man, and of stirring spirit, but noneknew better the weakness of his party, and no one on his side had beenmore shamefully treated. It had been his lot to leave his bride ontheir marriage day, and now it would be harder to leave her at a timewhen every husband desires to be near his wife. But the summons to bepresent at the Convention had come, and its business was to decide whoshould be King of Scotland, for though William had succeeded to thethrone of England, James still reigned in law over the northernkingdom. Dundee could not be absent at the deposition of his king andthe virtual close of the Stuart dynasty. As usual he would be one of abeaten party, or perhaps might stand alone; it was not his friends buthis enemies who were calling him to Edinburgh, and the chances werethat the hillmen would settle their account with him by assassination. His judgment told him that his presence in Edinburgh would befruitless, and his heart held him to his home. Yet day after day heput off his going. It was now the thirteenth of March, and to-morrowthe Convention would meet, and if he were to go he must go quickly. Hehad been tossed in mind and troubled in heart, but the instinct ofobedience to duty which Graham had obeyed through good report andevil, without reserve, and without scruple, till he had done not onlythe things he ought to have done, but many things also which he oughtnot to have done, finally triumphed. He had told Jean that morningthat he must leave. His little escort of troopers were saddling theirhorses, and in half an hour they would be on the road, the dreary, hopeless road it was his fate to be ever travelling. Jean and he weresaying their last words before this new adventure, for they both knewthat every departure might be the final parting. They were standing atthe door, and nothing could be grayer than their outlook. For a haarhad come up from the sea, as is common on the east coast, and the coldand dripping mist blotted out the seascape; it hid the town of Dundee, which lay below Dudhope, and enveloped the castle in its coldgarments, like a shroud, and chilled Graham and his wife to the verybone. 

"Ye will acknowledge, John, that I have never hindered you when thecall came. " As she spoke Jean took his flowing hair in her hand, andhe had never seen her so gentle before, for indeed she could not becalled a soft or tender woman. 

"Ye told me what would be the way of life for us, and it has been whatye said, and I have not complained. But this day I wish to God that yecould have stayed, for when my hour comes, and it is not far off, yeken I will miss you sairly. Other women have their mothers with themin that strait, but for me there is none; naebody but strangers. Ifony evil befall thee, John, it will go ill with me, and I have in mykeeping the hope of your house. Can ye no bide quietly here with meand let them that have the power do as they will in Edinburgh? No manof your own party has ever thanked you for anything ye did, and if mymother's people do their will by you, I shall surely die and the childwith me. And that will be the end of the House of Dundee. Must ye goand leave me?" And now her arm was round him, and with the other handshe caressed his face, while her warm bosom pressed against his cold, hard cuirass. 

"Queensberry, for the liar he always was, said ye would be my Delilah, Jean, but that I knew was not in you, " said Dundee, smiling sadly andstroking the proud head, which he had never seen bowed before. 

"You are, I believe in my soul, the bravest woman in Scotland, and Iwish to God the men on our side had only had the heart of my LadyDundee. With a hundred men and your spirit in them, Jean, we haddriven William of Orange into the sea, or, at the worst, we shouldcertainly save Scotland for the king. Well and bravely have ye stoodby me since our marriage day, and if I had ever consulted my ownsafety or sought after private ends, I believe ye would have been thefirst to cry shame upon me. Surely ye have been a true soldier's wife, and ye are the same this morning, and braver even than on our weddingday. 

"Do not make little of yourself, Jean, because your heart is sore andye canna keep back the tears. It is not given to a man to understandwhat a woman feels in your place but I am trying to imagine, and mylove is suffering with you, sweetheart. I do pity you, and I couldweep with you, but tears are strange to my eyes--God made me softwithout and hard within--and I have a better medicine to help you thanpity. " Still he was caressing her, but she felt his body straighteningwithin the armor. 

"When ye prophesy that the fanatics of the west will be at me inEdinburgh, I suspect ye are right, but I pray you not to troubleyourself overmuch. They have shot at me before with leaden bullets andwith silver, trying me first as a man and next as a devil, but nobullet touched me, and now if they fall back upon the steel there aretwo or three trusty lads with me who can use the sword fairly well, and though your husband be not a large man, Jean, none has had thebetter of him when it came to sword-play. So cheer up, lass, for I mayfall some day, but it will not be at the hands of a skulkingCovenanter in a street brawl. 

"But if this should come to pass, Jean--and the future is known onlyto God--then I beseech you that ye be worthy of yourself, and showthem that ye are my Lady Dundee. If I fall, then ye must live, andtake good care that the unborn child shall live, too, and if he be aboy--as I am sure he will be--then ye have your life-work. Train himup in the good faith and in loyalty to the king; tell him how Montrosefought for the good cause and died for it, and how his own fatherfollowed in the steps of the Marquis. Train him for the best life aman can live and make him a soldier, and lay upon him from his youththat ye will not die till he has avenged his father's murder. Thatwill be worthy of your blood and your rank, aye, and the love whichhas been between us, Jean Cochrane and John Graham. "

She held him in her arms till the very breastplate was warm, and shekissed him twice upon the lips. Then she raised herself to her fullheight--and she was as tall as Graham--and looking proudly at him, shesaid:

"Ye have put strength into me, as if the iron which covers your breasthad passed into my blood. Ye go to-day with my full will to serve theking, and God protect and prosper you, my husband and my LordDundee. "

For a space the heat of Jean's high courage cheered her husband'sheart, but as the day wore on, and hour by hour he rode through thecold gray mist which covered Fife, the temperature of his heart beganto correspond with the atmosphere. While Dundee had always carriedhimself bravely before men, and had kept his misgivings to himself, and seemed the most indifferent of gay Cavaliers, he had really been amodest and diffident man. From the first he had had grave fears of thesuccess of his cause, and more than doubts about the loyalty of hiscomrades. He was quite prepared not only for desperate effort, but forfinal defeat. No man could say he had embarked on the royal servicefrom worldly ends, and now, if he had been a shrewd Lowland Scot, hehad surely consulted his safety and changed his side, as most of hisfriends were doing. Graham did not do this for an imperativereason--because he had been so made that he could not. There arenatures which are not consciously dishonest or treacherous, but whichare flexible and accommodating. They are open to the play of everyinfluence, and are sensitive to environment; they are loyal whenothers are loyal, but if there be a change in spirit round them theyimmediately correspond, and they do so not from any selfishcalculation, but merely through a quick adaptation to environment. People of this kind find themselves by an instinct on the winningside, but they would be mightily offended if they were charged withbeing opportunists. They are at each moment thoroughly convinced oftheir integrity, and are ever on the side which commends itself totheir judgment; if it happens to be the side on which the sun isshining, that is a felicitous accident. There are other natures, narrower possibly and more intractable, whose chief quality is athoroughgoing and masterful devotion, perhaps to a person, perhaps toa cause. Once this devotion is given, it can never be changed by anycircumstance except the last and most inexcusable treachery, and thenit will be apt to turn into a madness of hatred which nothing willappease. There is no optimism in this character, very often aclear-sighted and painful acceptance of facts; faults are distinctlyseen and difficulties are estimated at their full strength, sacrificeis discounted, and defeat is accepted. But the die is cast, and forweal or woe--most likely woe--they must go on their way and fight thefight to the end. This was the mould in which Dundee was cast, theheir of shattered hopes, and the descendant of broken men, the servantof a discredited and condemned cause. He faced the reality, and knewthat he had only one chance out of a hundred of success; but it neverentered his mind to yield to circumstances and accept the newsituation. There was indeed a moment when he would have been willing, not to change his service, but to sheathe his sword and stand apart. That moment was over, and now he had bidden his wife good-by and wasriding through the cold gray mist to do his weary, hopeless best foran obstinate, foolish, impracticable king, and to put some heart, ifit were possible, into a dwindling handful of unprincipled, self-seeking, double-minded men. The day was full of omens, and theywere all against him. Twice a hare ran across the road, and Grimondmuttered to himself as he rode behind his master, "The ill-fauredbeast. " As they passed through Glenfarg, a raven followed them for amile, croaking weirdly. A trooper's horse stumbled and fell, and theman had to be left behind, insensible. When they halted for an hourat Kinross it spread among the people who they were, and they werewatched by hard, unsympathetic faces. The innkeeper gave them whatthey needed, but with ill grace, and it was clear that only fear ofDundee prevented him refusing food both to man and beast. When theyleft a crowd had gathered, and as they rode out from the village avoice cried: "Woe unto the man of blood--a double woe! He goeth, buthe shall not return, his doom is fixed. " An approving murmur from thehearers showed what the Scots folk thought of John Graham. Grimondwould fain have turned and answered this Jeremiah and his chorus witha touch of the sword, but his commander forbade him sharply. "We haveother men to deal with, " he said to Grimond, "than country fanatics, and our work is before us in Edinburgh. " But he would not have been aScot if he had been indifferent to signs, and this raven-croak thewhole day long rang in his heart. The sun struggled for a littlethrough the mist, and across Loch Leven they saw on its island theprison-house of Mary. "Grimond, " said Graham, "there is where theykept her, and by this road she went out on her last hopeless ride, andwe follow her, Jock. But not to a prison, ye may stake your soul onthat. It was enough that one Graham should die upon a scaffold. Thenext will die in the open field. "

It was late when they reached Edinburgh, and a murky night when theyrode up Leith Wynd; the tall houses of Edinburgh hung over them; thefew lights struggled against the thick, enveloping air. Figures cameout of one dark passage, and disappeared into another. A body ofHighlanders, in the Campbell tartan, for a moment blocked the way. Twice they were cursed by unknown voices, and when Claverhouse reachedhis lodging someone called out his name, and added: "The day ofvengeance is at hand. The blood of John Brown crieth from the altar!"And Grimond kept four troopers on guard all night. 

The next night Claverhouse and Balcarres were closeted together, theonly men left to consult for the royal cause, and both knew what wasgoing to be the issue. 

"There is no use blinding our eyes, Balcarres, " said Graham, "orfeeding our hearts with vain hopes, the Convention is for the Princeof Orange, and is done with King James. The men who kissed his handyesterday, when he was in power, and would have licked his feet ifthat had got them place and power, will be the first to cast himforth and cry huzza for the new king. There is a black taint in theScots blood, and there always have been men in high position to selltheir country. The lords of the congregation were English traitors inMary's day, and on them as much as that wanton Elizabeth lay herblood. It was a Scots army sold Charles I to the Roundheads, and itwould have been mair decent to have beheaded him at Edinburgh. And nowthey will take the ancient throne of auld Scotland and hand it over, without a stroke, to a cold-blooded foreigner who has taught his wifeto turn her hand against her own father. God's ban is upon the land, Balcarres, for one party of us be raging fanatics, and the other partybe false-hearted cowards. Lord, if we could set the one against theother, Argyle's Highlanders against the West Country Whigs, it were abonnie piece of work, and if they fought till death the country werewell rid o' baith, for I know not whether I hate mair bitterly aCovenanter or a Campbell. But it would set us better, Balcarres, tokeep our breath to cool oor ain porridge. What is this I hear, thatAthole is playing the knave, and that Gordon cannot be trusted to keepthe castle? Has the day come upon us that the best names in Scotlandare to be dragged in the mire? I sairly doot that for the time thethrone is lost to the auld line, but if it is to be sold by the bestblood of Scotland, then I wish their silver bullet had found JohnGraham's heart at Drumclog. "

"Ye maunna deal ower hardly with Athole, Dundee, for I will not say heisna true. His son, mind you, is on the other side, and Athole himselfis a man broken in body. These be trying times, and it is not everyane has your heart. It may be that Athole and other men judge thateverything has been done that can, and that a heavy burden o' guiltwill rest on ony man that spills blood without reason. Mind you, " wenton Balcarres hastily, as he saw the black gloom gathering on Dundee'sface, "I say not that is my way of it, for I am with you while onyhope remains, but we maun do justice. "

"Justice!" broke in Claverhouse, irritated beyond control byBalcarres's apologies and his hint of compromise. "If I had my way ofit, every time-serving trickster in the land would have justice--arope round his neck and a long drop, for a bullet would be toohonorable a death. But let Athole pass. He was once a loyal man, andthere may be reason in what ye say. I have never known sicknessmyself, and doubtless it weakens even strong men. But what is this Ihear of Gordon? Is it a lie that he is trafficking with Hamilton andthe Whig lords to surrender the castle? If so, he is the most damnabletraitor of them all, and will have his place with Judas Iscariot. "

"Na, na, Dundee, nae Gordon has ever been false, though I judge maisto' them, since Mary's day, have been foolish. Concerning the castle, this is how the matter stands, and I pray you to hear me patiently andnot to fly out till I have finished. "

"For God's sake, speak out and speak on, and dinna sit watching me asif you were terrified for your life, and dinna pick your words, like adouble-dealing, white-blooded Whig lawyer, or I will begin to thinkthat the leprosy of cowardice has reached the Lindsays. "

"Weel, Dundee"--but Balcarres was still very careful with his word--"Ihave reason to believe, and, in fact, I may as well say I know, thatthere have been some goings and comings between Gordon and the Lordsof Convention. I will not say that Gordon isna true to the king, andthat he would not hold the castle if it would help the cause. But I amjudging that he isna minded to be left alone and keep EdinburghCastle for King James if all Scotland is for King William. " AndBalcarres, plucking up courage in the face of his fierce companion, added: "I will not say, Dundee, that the duke is wrong. What use wouldit be if he did? But mind you, " went on Balcarres hastily, "he hasnapromised to surrender his trust. He is just waiting to see whathappens. "

"Which they have all been doing, every woman's son of them, instead ofminding their duty whatever happens; but I grant there's no useraging, we maun make our plans. What does Gordon want if he's holdinghis hand? Out with it, Balcarres, for I see from your face ye ken. "

"If the duke, " replied Balcarres, "had ony guarantee that a fightwould be made for the auld line in Scotland, and that he would not beleft alane, like a sparrow upon the housetop in Edinburgh Castle, Imake certain he would stand fast; but if the royal standard is to beseen nowhere else except on one keep--strong though that be--the dukewill come to terms wi' the Convention. There ye have the situation, mak' o' it what ye will. "

"By God, Balcarres, if that be true, and I jalouse that ye are richt, Gordon will get his assurance this very nicht. It's a fair and justpledge he asks, and I know the man who'll give it to him. Edinburghwill no be the only place in the land where the good standard fliesbefore many days are passed. Man! Balcarres, this is good news ye havebrought, and I am glad to ken that there is still red blood inGordon's heart. I'm thinking ye've had your own communings wi' theduke, and that ye ken the by-roads to the castle. Settle it that heand I can meet this very nicht, and if need be I'll be ready to leavethe morrow's morning. Aye, Balcarres, if the duke holds the fastness, I'll look after the open country. " And before daybreak there was ameeting between the Gordon and the Graham. They exchanged pledges, each to do his part, but both of them knew an almost hopeless part, for the king. Many a forlorn hope had their houses led, and this wouldbe only one more. 

While his master had been reënforcing the duke's determination andgiving pledges of thoroughness, Grimond had been doing his part tosecure Dundee's safety in the seat of his enemies. Edinburgh wasswarming with West Country Whigs, whose day of victory had come, andwho had hurried to the capital that they might make the most of it. Noone could blame them for their exultation, least of all Claverhouse. They had been hunted like wild beasts, they had been scattered whenworshipping God according to the fashion of their fathers, they hadbeen shot down without a trial, they had been shut up in noisomeprisons--and all this because they would not submit to the mostcorrupt government ever known in Scotland, and that most intolerablekind of tyranny which tries, not only to coerce a man as a citizen, but also as a Christian. They had many persecutors, but, on the whole, the most active had been Graham, and it was Graham they hated most. Itis his name rather than that of Dalzell or Lauderdale which has beenpassed with execration from mouth to mouth and from generation togeneration in Scotland. The tyrant James had fled, like the coward hewas, and God's deliverer had come--a man of their own faith--inWilliam of Orange. The iron doors had been burst and the fetters hadbeen broken, there was liberty to hear the word of the Lord again, andthe Kirk of Scotland was once more free. Justice was being done, butit would not be perfect till Claverhouse suffered the penalty of hiscrimes. It had been the hope of many a dour Covenanter, infuriated bythe wrongs of his friends, if not his own, to strike down Claverhouseand avenge the sufferings of God's people. Satan had protected hisown, but now the man of blood was given into their hands. Surely itwas the doing of the Lord that Dundee should have left Dudhope, wherehe was in stronghold, and come up to Edinburgh, where his friends werefew. That he should go at large upon the streets and take his seat inthe Convention, that he should dare to plot against William and lift ahand for James in this day of triumph, was his last stroke ofinsolence--the drop which filled his cup to overflowing. He had cometo Edinburgh, to which he had sent many a martyr of the Covenant, andwhere he had seen Henry Pollock die for Christ's crown and the Scotskirk. Behold! was it not a sign, and was it not the will of the Lordthat in this high place, where godly men had been murdered by him, hisblood should be spilled as an offering unto the Lord?

This was what the hillmen were saying among themselves as theygathered in their meetings and communed together in their lodgings. They were not given to public vaporing, and were much readier tostrike than to speak, but when there are so many, and their hearts areso hot, a secret cannot be easily kept. And Grimond, who concealedmuch shrewdness behind a stolid face--which is the way with Scotspeasants--caught some suspicious words as two unmistakable Covenanterspassed him in the high street. If mischief was brewing for his master, it was his business to find it out and take a hand in the affair. Hefollowed the pair as if he were a countryman gaping at the sights ofthe town and the stir of those days, when armed men passed on everyside and the air was thick with rumors. When the Covenanters, afterglancing round, plunged down a dark entry and into an obscure tavern, Grimond, after a pause, followed cautiously, assuming as best hecould--and not unsuccessfully--the manner of a man from the west. Theouter room was empty when he entered, and he was careful when he gothis measure of ale to bend his head over it for at least five minutesby way of grace. The woman, who had glanced sharply at him on entry, was satisfied by this sign of godliness, and left him in a darkcorner, from which he saw one after another of the saints pass into aninner chamber. Between the two rooms there was a wooden partition, andthrough a crack in the boarding Grimond was able to see and hear whatwas going on. It was characteristic of the men that they opened theirconference of assassination with prayer, in which the sorrows of thepast were mentioned with a certain pathos, and thanks given for thegreat deliverance which had been wrought. Then they asked wisdom andstrength to finish the Lord's work, and to rid the land of the chiefof the Amalekites, after which they made their plan. Although Grimondcould not catch everything that was said, he gathered clearly thatwhen Claverhouse left his lodging to attend the Convention on themorning of the fifteenth of March, they would be waiting in the narrowway, as if talking with friends, and would slay the persecutor beforehe could summon help. When it was agreed who should be present, andwhat each one should do, they closed their meeting, as they had openedit, with prayer. One of them glanced suspiciously round the kitchen ashe passed through, but saw no man, for Grimond had quietly departed. He knew his master's obstinate temper and reckless courage, and wasafraid if he told him of the plot that he would give no heed, or trustto his own sword. "We'll run no risks, " said Grimond to himself, andnext morning a dozen troopers of Claverhouse's regiment guarded theentry to his lodging, and a dozen more were scattered handily aboutthe street. They followed him to the Convention and waited till hereturned. That was how Claverhouse lived to fight the battle ofKilliecrankie, but till that day came he had never been so near deathas in that narrow way of Edinburgh. 

Dundee was not a prudent man, and he was very fearless, but for oncehe consulted common-sense and made ready to leave Edinburgh. It wasplain that the Convention would elect William to the throne ofScotland, and as the days passed it was also very bitter to him thatthe Jacobites were not very keen about the rising. When he learnedthat his trusted friends were going to attend the Convention, and didnot propose with undue haste to raise the standard for the king, Dundee concluded that if anything should be done, it would not be bysuch cautious spirits. As he seemed to be the sole hope of his cause, the sooner he was out of Edinburgh the better. When he was seen uponthe street with fifty of his troopers, mounted and armed, there was awild idea of arresting him, but it came to nothing. There was not timeto gather the hillmen together, and there was no heart in the othersto face this desperate man and his body-guard. With his men behindhim, he rode down Leith Wynd unmolested, and when someone cried, "Where art thou going, Lord Dundee?" he turned him round in the saddleand answered, "Whither the spirit of Montrose will lead me. " Afortnight later, in front of his house at Dudhope, he raised thestandard for King James, and Jean Cochrane, a mother now, holdingtheir infant son in her arms, stood by his side before he rode north. As he had left her on their marriage day with his troopers, so now heleft her and their child, to see her only once again--a cruel meeting, before he fell. Verily, a life of storm and stress, of bitterconflicts and many partings. Verily, a man whom, right or wrong, thefates were treating as a victim and pursuing to his doom. 

CHAPTER III

THE LAST BLOW

It is said that those stories are best liked which present a heroand sing his achievements from beginning to end. And the morefaultless and brilliant the hero, the better goes the tale, and thelouder the applause. Certainly John Graham is the central figure inthis history, and so rich is the color of the man and so intensehis vitality, that other personages among whom he moves become paleand uninteresting. They had, if one takes the long result, a largershare in affairs, and their hand stretches across the centuries, but there was not in them that charm of humanity which captivates theheart. One must study the work of William of Orange if he is tounderstand the history of his nation, but one would not go round thecorner to meet him. Claverhouse, if one faces the facts and sweepsaway the glamour, was only a dashing cavalry officer, who happenedto win an insignificant battle by obvious local tactics, and yetthere are few men whom one would prefer to meet. One would make a longjourney to catch a sight of Claverhouse riding down the street, as oneto-day is caught by the fascination of his portrait. But the readerhas already discovered that Graham can hardly be called a hero byany of the ordinary tests except beauty of personal appearance. Hewas not an ignorant man, as certain persons have concluded from thevaried and picturesque habits of his spelling, but his friendscannot claim that he was endowed with rich intellectual gifts. Hehad sense enough to condemn the wilder excesses of his colleaguesin the government of the day, but he had not force enough to replacetheir foolishness by a wiser policy. Had his powers been morecommanding, or indeed if he had had any talent for constructiveaction, with his unwavering integrity and masterful determination, he might have ousted Lauderdale and saved Scotland for King James. But accomplished intriguers and trained politicians were always toomuch for Claverhouse, and held him as a lithe wild animal is caught inthe meshes of a net. 

Wild partisans, to whom every man is either white as snow or black aspitch, have gone mad over Graham, making him out, according to theircraze, either an angel or a devil, and forgetting that most men arehalf and between. But it must be also said that those who hold JohnGraham to have been a Jacobite saint are the more delirious in theirminds, and hysterical in their writing, for they will not hear that heever did anything less than the best, or that the men he persecutedhad any right upon their side. He is from first to last a perfectpaladin of romance whom everyone is bound to praise. Then artists rushin and not only make fine trade of his good looks, but lend his beautyto the clansmen who fought at Killiecrankie, till the curtain fallsupon "Bonnie Dundee" being carried to his grave by picturesque andbroken-hearted Highlanders dressed in the costly panoply of theInverness Gathering, and with faces of the style of George MacDonaldor Lord Leighton. Whatever Claverhouse was, and this story at leastsuggests that he was brave and honorable, he was in no sense a saint, and would have been the last to claim this high degree. It is open toquestion whether he deserved to be called a good man, for he wasambitious of power and, perhaps for public ends, of wealth; he had nosmall measure of pride and jealousy in him; he was headstrong andunmanageable, and for his own side he was unrelenting and cruel. There are things he would not have done to advance his cause, as, forinstance, tell lies, or stain his honor, but he never would havedreamed of showing mercy to his opponent. Nor did he ever try to enterinto his mind or understand what the other man was feeling. 

It is sometimes judged enough for a hero that he succeed without beingclever or good, but neither did Graham pass this doubtful anddangerous test. For when you clear away the romance which heroicpoetry and excited prose have flung around him, you were an optimistif you did not see his life was one long failure as well as adisappointment and a sorrow. He did bravely with the Prince of Orange, and yet somehow he missed promotion; he was the best officer thegovernment had in Scotland, and yet it was only in the last resort hebecame commander-in-chief. He was the only honest man among a gang ofrascals in the Scots council, and yet he was once dismissed from it;he was entitled to substantial rewards, and yet he had to makedegrading appeals to obtain his due. He was loyal to foolishness, yethe was represented to the Court as a man who could not be trusted. Hehad only two love affairs; the first brought him the reputation ofmercenary aims, and the second almost ruined his life. He embarked ona contest which was hopeless from the beginning, and died at the closeof a futile victory. Except winning the heart of Jean Cochrane, hefailed in everything which he attempted. With the exception of hiswife he was betrayed on every hand, while a multitude hated him withall their strength and thirsted for his blood. If Jean were not trueto him there would not be one star in the dark sky of Claverhouse'slife. 

But this irredeemable and final disaster is surely incredible. Dundee, fooled as he had been both by his master and by his friends till hewas alone and forsaken, was bound to put his whole trust in his wife. Had she not made the last sacrifices for him and through dark daysstood bravely by his side? Their private life had not always runsmoothly, for if in one way they were well mated, because both were ofthe eagle breed, in another way, they were ill-suited, because theywere so like. John Graham and Jean Cochrane both came of proud houseswhich loved to rule, and were not accustomed to yield, they both hadiron and determined wills, they shared the dubious gift of a loftytemper and fiery affections. They were set upon their own ways, andso they had clashed many a time in plan and deed; hot words had passedbetween them, and they had been days without speech. But below thetumult of contending wills, and behind the flash of fiery hearts, theywere bound together by the passion of their first love, which hadgrown and deepened, and by that respect which strong and honorablepeople have for one another. They could rage, but each knew that theother could not lie; they could be most unreasonable, but each knewthat the other could never descend to dishonor, so their quarrels hadalways one ending, and seemed, after they were over, to draw themcloser together and to feed their love. One could not think of them astimid and gentle creatures, billing and cooing their affection; onerather imagined the lion and his lioness, whose very love was fierceand perilous. No power from without could separate these two nor makethem quail. Alone and united Dundee and his wife could standundismayed and self-sufficient, with all Scotland against them. Nothing could ever break their bond except dishonor. But if one shouldcharge the other with that foulest crime, then the end had come, beside which death would be welcome. Where life is a comedy onewrites with gayety not untouched by contempt; where life is a tragedyone writes with tears not unredeemed by pride. But one shrinks whenthe tragedy deepens into black night, and is terrified when strongpassions, falling on an evil day, work their hot wills, with norestraining or favorable fate. There are people whose life is aprimrose path along which they dance and prattle, whose emotions are apose, whose thoughts are an echo, whose trials are a graceful luxury;there are others whose way lies through dark ravines and beside ragingtorrents, over whose head the black clouds are ever lowering, and whomany moment the lightning may strike. This was their destiny. Upontheir marriage day one saw the way that these two would have to go, and it was inevitable that they should drink their cup to the dregs. 

The blame of what happened must be laid at Graham's door, and in hislast hours he took it altogether to himself; but since it has to bewritten about, and he showed so badly, let us make from the first thebest excuse we can for him, and try to appreciate his state of mind. It was a brave event and a taking scene when he set up the standard ofKing James above Dundee, and he left to raise the North Country witha flush of hope. It soon passed away and settled down into drearydetermination, as he made his toilsome journey with a handful offollowers by Aboyne and Huntly, till he landed in Inverness. TheGordons had sent him a reënforcement, and certain of the chiefs hadpromised their support, but the only aid the Highlanders had given wasof dubious value and very disappointing issue. The MacDonalds hadhastened to Inverness by way of meeting Dundee, and then had seizedthe opportunity to plunder their old enemies, the Mackintoshes, and toextract a comfortable ransom out of Inverness. This was not his ideaof war, and Dundee scolded Keppoch, who commanded the MacDonalds, mostvigorously. Keppoch immediately returned homeward to his fastnesseswith the accumulated spoil, partly because his fine, sensitiveHighland nature was hurt by Dundee's plain speech, and partly becausewhatever happened it was wise to secure what they had got. It is noreflection on Dundee's manhood that he was cast down during those daysat Inverness, for a ten times more buoyant man would have lost heart. His life was a romantic drama, and it seemed as if the Fates hadconstructed it for the stage, for now, after the lapse of years, MacKay, his old rival in Holland, reappears, and they resume the duel, which this time is to be unto death. While Dundee was struggling inEdinburgh to save the throne for James, MacKay was on his way withregiments of the Scots Brigade to make sure of Scotland for William. Afew days after Dundee left Edinburgh MacKay arrived, and now, asDundee rode northward in hot haste, MacKay was on his track. Both wereeager for a meeting, but the bitterness of it for Dundee was that hedared not run the risk. With all his appeals and all his riding, hehad only a handful of mounted men, and the clans had not risen. Itseemed as if his enterprise were futile, and that Scotland would notlift a hand for King James. He might be a commander-in-chief, but hewas a commander of nobody; he might raise a standard, but it was onlya vain show. It did not matter where he went or what he did; he wasnot a general, but a fugitive, a man to be neglected, and hisfollowing a handful of bandits. The rising was a thing to laugh at, and the report was current in the capital that he had absconded withone or two servants. This pretty description of his campaign had notreached his ears, but the humiliation of his situation burned intohis proud heart. Much as he would have liked to meet MacKay, thereremained for him no alternative but flight. Flight was the only wordwhich could describe his journey, and as he planned his course on themorrow, how he would ride to Invergarry, and then return on hiscourse, and then make his way to Cluny, he started to his feet andpaced the room in a fury of anger. What better was he than a hare withthe hounds after him, running for his life, and doubling in his track, fleeing here and dodging there, a cowering, timid, panting animal ofthe chase? "Damnation!" and Dundee flung himself out of the room, andpaced up and down the side of the river. 

There was a dim light upon the running water, and his thoughts turnedto the West Country, to the streams he had often crossed and alongwhose bed he had sometimes ridden, as he hunted for his Covenantingprey. The Fates were just, for now the Whigs were the hunters and hewas the hunted. He began to understand what it was to be ever on thealert for the approach of the enemy, to escape at the first sign ofdanger, to cross hills in full flight, and to be listening for thesound of the pursuer. As yet he had not to hide, but before many dayswere over he also may be skulking in moss-hags, and concealinghimself in caves, and disguising himself in peasant's garments, he, John Graham of Claverhouse, and my Viscount of Dundee. The tables hadturned with a vengeance, and the day of the godly had come. Thehillmen would laugh when they heard of it, and the Conventicles wouldrejoice together. MacKay would be sitting in his quarters at Elginthat night making his plans also, but not for flight, and hardly forfighting. When officers arrest an outlaw, it is not called a battleany more than when hounds run a fox to his lair. MacKay would bearranging how to trap him, anticipating his ways of escape, andstopping all the earths, so that say, to-morrow, he might be quietlytaken. It would not be a surrender; it would be a capture, and hewould be sent to Edinburgh in charge of half a dozen English dragoons, and tried at Edinburgh, and condemned for treason against KingWilliam--King William. They would execute him without mercy, and beonly doing to him what he had done to the Whigs, and just as he hadkept guard at Pollock's execution, that new Cameronian Regiment, ofwhich there was much talk, would keep guard at his. There would belittle cause for precaution; no one need fear a rescue, for thehillmen would be there in thousands with the other Whigs, to feasttheir eyes upon his shame, and cheer his death. He could not complain, for it would happen to him as it had to many of them, and what he hadsown that would he reap. Would MacKay be laughing that night at Elgin, with his officers, and crying in his Puritanic cant, "Aha, aha, how isthe enemy fallen and the mighty cast down! Where now is the boastingof his pride, where now is the persecutor of the saints?" No, farworse, MacKay would give orders in his cold, immovable manner, andtreat the matter as of no account, as one who had never expectedanything else from the beginning, and was only amazed at hisopponent's madness. That was the inner bitterness of it all; they hadtaken their sides fifteen years ago; MacKay had chosen wisely, and hehad chosen foolishly, as the world would say. The conflict had beeninevitable, and it was quite as inevitable that his would be thelosing side. William saw what was coming afar off, so did MacKay; andit had all come to pass, year by year, act by act, and now MacKay wasto give the last stroke. They had won, and they had been sure all thetime they were going to win, and they would win with hardly an effort. He did not repent of his loyalty, and he would not have doneotherwise if he had had the choice over again. But their foresight, and their patience, and their capacity, and their thoroughness, andthe madness of his own people, and their feebleness, and theircowardice, and their helplessness, infuriated him. "Curse MacKay andhis master, and the whole crew of cold-blooded Whigs! But it is I andmine which are cursed. "

"Amen to the malediction on the Usurper and all his servants; it'sweel deserved, and may it sune be fulfilled, full measure and rinnin'over, but for ony sake dinna curse yersel', my lord, for it'sblessings ye've earned as a faithful servant o' your king. " And Dundeeturned round to find his faithful servant had arrived from home andhad sought him out on the riverside. 

"You took me by surprise, Jock, and startled me, for I knew not thatany man was near. I thought that you of all men were at Dudhope, whereI left you, to protect Lady Dundee and the young lord. Is aughtwrong, " cried Dundee anxiously, "my wife and child, are they bothwell? Speak quickly. " For even then Dundee saw that Grimond washesitating, and looked like a man who had to speak carefully. "Do nottell me that MacKay has ordered the castle to be seized, and that thedragoons have insulted my family; this were an outrage on the laws ofwar. If they have done this thing I will avenge it before many dayspass. Is that the news ye bring?" And Dundee gripped his servant'sshoulder and shook him with such violence that Grimond, a stronglybuilt fellow, was almost thrown from his feet. 

"Be quiet, Maister John, for I canna help callin' ye that, and dinnawork yoursel' into a frenzy, for this is no like your ain sel'. Na, na, Dudhope is safe, and no a single dragoon, leastways a soldier, hasbeen near it since ye left; whatever other mischief he may do, ColonelLivingstone, him that commands the cavalry ye ken, at Dundee, will nosee ony harm come to my Lady Dundee. Have no fear on that concern, mylord. "

"You havena come for nought, Grimond, and I'm not expecting that yehave much good to tell. Good tidings do not come my way in these days. Is the lad well?" said Dundee anxiously, "for in him is all my hope. "

"It's a gude hope then, my lord, for the bairn is juist bye-ordinary. I could see him growing every day, and never a complaint from hismouth except when he wants his food. God be thankit there's nothingwrong wi' him, and it does my heart good to see that he is a raelGraham, a branch o' the old tree; long may it stand in Scotland, andwide may its branches spread. If it be the will of Providence I wouldlike to live till my auld een saw Lord Graham of Claverhouse, for thatI'm supposing is his title, riding on the right hand of the Viscountof Dundee. And I would be a' the better pleased if it was over thenecks of the Whigs. My lord, ye will never be ashamed of your son. "

"Ye have said nothing of Lady Dundee's health, surely she isna ill oranything befallen her. It was hard, Jock, for a man to leave his wifebut a few weeks after his son was born. Yet she recovered quickly asbecometh a strong and healthy woman, and when I left her she was ingood heart and was content that I should go. There is nothing wrongwith Lady Dundee, Jock?"

"Ye may set yir mind at rest aboot her ladyship, Maister John. She'sstronger than I've ever seen her, and I can say no more than that, norhave I ever marked her more active, baith by nicht and day, and inspite o' her lord being so far awa and in sic peril, ye would neverthink she had an anxious thought. It's amazin' an' . .. Veryencouragin' to see her ladyship sae content an' . .. Occupied. Ye needhave nae concern aboot her bodily condeetion, an' of course that's agreat matter. "

Dundee was so relieved to hear that his wife and child were well, andthat Dudhope was safe, that he did not for the moment catch with thedubious tone of Grimond's references to Lady Dundee, and indeed itstruck no unaccustomed note. Grimond had all the virtues of a familyretainer--utter forgetfulness of self, and absolute devotion to hismaster's house, as well as a passionate, doglike affection for Dundee. But he had the defects of his qualities. It seems the inevitabledisability of this faithfulness, that this kind of servant is jealousof any newcomer into the family, suspicious of the stranger's ways, over-sensitive to the family interests, and ready at any moment tofight for the family's cause. Grimond had done his best to prevent hismaster's marriage with Jean Cochrane, and had never concealed hisconviction that it was an act of madness; he had never been more thandecently civil to his mistress, and there never had been any love lostbetween them. If she had been a smaller woman, Jean would have had himdismissed from her husband's side, but being what she was herself, proud and thoroughgoing, she respected him for his very prejudices, and his dislike of her she counted unto him for righteousness. Jeanhad made no effort to conciliate Grimond, for he was not the kind ofwatchdog to be won from his allegiance by a tempting morsel. Shelaughed with her husband over his watchfulness, and often said, "Yemay trust me anywhere, John, if ye leave Grimond in charge. If Iwanted to do wrong I should not be able. " "Ye would be wise, Jean, "Graham would reply, "to keep your eye on Grimond if ye are minded toplay a prank, for his bite is as quick as his bark. " They laughedtogether over this jest, for they trusted each other utterly, as theyhad good reason to do, but the day was at hand when that laughter wasto be bitter in the mouth. 

"Ye are like a cross-grained tyke which snarls at its master's bestfriend through faithfulness to him. Ye never liked your mistress fromthe beginning, because ye thought she would not be loyal, but, man, yeknow better now, " said Dundee kindly, "and it's time ye were givingher a share o' the love ye've always given me. "

"Never!" cried Grimond hotly. "And I canna bear that ye should treatthis maitter as a jest. Many a faithful dog has been scolded--aye, and maybe struck, by his maister when he had quicker ears than thefoolish man, and was giving warning of danger. 

"Ye think me, my lord, a silly and cankered auld haveril, and that myhead is full of prejudices and fancies. Would to God that I werewrong. If I were, I would go down on my knees to her ladyship and askher pardon and serve her like a dog all the days of my life; but, waesme, I'm ower richt. When my lady is loyal to you I'll be loyal to her, but no an hour sooner, say ye as ye like, laugh ye as ye will. But mylady is false, and ye are deceived in your own home. "

"Do you know what you are saying, Grimond, and to whom you arespeaking? We have carried this jest too far, and it is my blame, butye may not again speak this way of your mistress in my presence. Iknow you mean nothing by it, and it is all your love of me and dislikeof Covenanters that makes you jealous; but never again, Grimond, remember, or else, old servant though you be, you leave me that hour. It's a madness with you; ye must learn to control it, " said Dundeesternly. 

"It's nae madness, my lord, " answered Grimond doggedly, "and hasnaethin' to do with my lady being a Cochrane. Maybe I would rathershe had been a Graham or a Carnegie, but that was nae business o'mine. Even if I didna like her, it's no for a serving-man to complaino' his mistress. I ken when to speak and when to hold my tongue, butthere are things I canna see and forbear. My lord, it's time you wereat Dudhope, for the sake, o' your honor. "

"Grimond, " said Dundee, and his words were as morsels of ice, "if itwere any other man who spoke of my wife and dishonor in the samebreath I would kill him where he stood; but ye are the oldest andfaithfullest follower of our house. For the work ye have done and therisks ye have run I pardon you so far as to hear any excuse ye have tomake for yourself; but make it plain and make it quick, for ye know Iam not a man to be trifled with. "

"I will speak plainly, my lord, though they be the hardest words Ihave ever had to say. I ken the risk. It is not the first time I havetaken my life in my hand for the Grahams and their good name. Mysuspicions were aroused by that little besom Kirsty, when I saw herane day comin' oot from the quarters of Colonel Livingstone, whacommands the dragoons at Dundee. I kent she could be doing nae goodthere, for she's as full o' mischief as an egg is full o' meat. So Iwheeped up by the near road and met her coming up to the castle. Whenshe saw me she hid a letter in her breast, and, question her as Ilike, I could get nothing from her but impudence. But it was plain tome that communication was passing between someone in Dudhope and thecommander o' William's soldiers. "

"Go on, " said Dundee quietly. 

"Putting two and two together, my lord, I watched in the orchard belowthe castle that nicht and the next, and on the next, when it was dark, a man muffled in a cloak came up the road from the town and waitedbelow the apple trees, near where I was lying in the hollow among thegrass. After a while a woman in a plaid so that ye couldna see herface came down from the direction of the castle. They drew away amongthe trees, so that I could only see that they were there, but couldnahear what they were saying. After a while, colloguing together, theyparted, and I jaloused who the two were, but that nicht I could not becertain. "

"Go on, " said Dundee, "till you have finished. "

"Three nichts later they met again, and I crept a little nearer, andthe moon coming out for a minute I saw their faces. It was herladyship and Colonel Livingstone. She was pleading wi' him, and he washalf yielding, half consenting. Her voice was so low I couldna catchher words, but I heard him say: 'God knows ye have my heart; but myhonor, my honor. ' 'I will be content wi' your heart, ' I heard heranswer. 'When will you be ready? For if Dundee hear of it, he willride south night and day, tho' the whole English army be in hisroad!'

"'For eight days, ' said Livingstone, 'I am engaged on duty and can donothing, on the ninth I am at your service for ever. ' Then I saw himkiss her hand, and they parted. Within an hour I was riding north. Yemay shoot me if you please, but I have cleared my conscience. "

Dundee's face was white as death, and his eyes glittered as when thelight shines on steel. Twice he laid his hand upon his pistol, andtwice withdrew it. 

"If an angel from heaven told me that Lady Dundee was untrue I wouldnot believe him, and you, you I take to be rather a devil from hell. Said Livingstone eight days? And two are passed. I was proposing to gosouth for other ends, and now I shall not fail to be there before thatappointment. But it may be, Grimond, I shall have to kill you. "

CHAPTER IV

THOU ALSO FALSE

Dundee was a man of many trials, and one on whom fortune seldomsmiled; but the most cruel days of his life were the ride fromInverness by the Pass of Corryarrack to Blair Athole, and from BlairAthole by Perth to Dundee. He learned then, as many men have done intimes of their distress, the horror of the night time and theblessing of the light. Had his mind not been affected by theuniversal treachery of the time, and the disappointments he had met onevery side, till it seemed that every man except himself was huntingafter his own interest, and no one, high or low, could be trusted, hehad from the beginning treated Grimond's story with contempt andmade it a subject of jest. He would no more have doubted Jean'shonor than that of his mother. He would have known that Grimond neverlied, and that he did not often drink, but he also would have beensure that even if it was Jean who met Livingstone, that there wassome good explanation, and he never would have allowed his thoughtsto dwell upon the matter. If Jean had been told that Graham had beenseen with a lady of the Court at Whitehall, she would have scornedto question him, and indeed she had often laughed at the snarescertain frail beauties of that day had laid for him in London. Forshe knew him, and he also knew her. But he was sorely tried inspirit and driven half crazy by the disloyalty of his friends, and itis in those circumstances of morbid, unhealthy feeling that the seedsof suspicion find a root and grow, as the microbes settle uponsusceptible and disordered organs of the body. 

As it was, he was divided in his mind, and it was the alternation ofdark and bright moods which made his agony. Spring had only reachedthe Highlands as he rode southwards, but its first touches had madeeverything winsome and beautiful. While patches of snow lingered onthe higher hills, and glittered in the sunlight, the grass in thehollows between the heather was putting on the first greenness of theseason, and the heather was sprouting bravely; the burns werefull-bodied with the melting snow from the higher levels and rushingwith a pleasant noise to join the river. As he came down from thebare uplands at Dalnaspidal into the sheltered glen at Blair Castle, the trees made an arch of the most delicate emerald over his head, forthe buds were beginning to open, and the wind blew gently upon hisface. The sight of habitations as he came nearer to the Lowlands, thesound of the horses' feet upon the road, the gayety of his band oftroopers, the children playing before their humble cottages, theexhilarating air, and the hope of the season when winter was gone, told upon his heart and reënforced him. The despair of the nightbefore, when he tossed to and fro upon a wretched bed or paced up anddown before the farmhouse door, imagining everything that washorrible, passed away as a nightmare. Was there ever such madness asthat he, John Graham, should be doubting his wife, Jean Cochrane, whomhe had won from the midst of his enemies, and who had left her motherand her mother's house to be his bride? How brave she had been, howself-sacrificing, how uncomplaining, how proud in heart and high inspirit; she had given up the whole world for him; she was the bravestand purest of ladies. That his wife of those years of storm and themother a few weeks ago of his child should forget her vows and herlove, and condescend to a base intrigue; that she should meet a loverin the orchard where they often used to walk, where the blossom wouldnow be opening on the trees, that Livingstone, whom he knew andcounted in a sense a friend, though he held King William's commissionnow, and had not stood by the right side, should take the opportunityof his absence to seduce his wife! It was a hideous and incredibleidea, some mad mistake which could be easily explained. Dundee, throwing off his black and brooding burden of thought, would touch hishorse with the spur and gallop for a mile in gayety of heart and thenride on his way, singing some Cavalier song, till Grimond, who keptaway from his master those days and rode among the troopers, wouldshake his head, and say to himself, "God grant he be not fey"(possessed). Dundee would continue in high spirits till the eveningshadows began to fall, and then the other shadow would lengthen acrosshis soul. The night before he met his wife he spent in Glamis Castle, and the grim, austere beauty of that ancient house affected hisimagination. Up its winding stairs with their bare, stern walls menhad gone in their armor, through the thickness of the outer wallssecret stairs connected mysterious chambers one with another. Strangedeeds had been done in those low-roofed rooms with their dark carvedfurniture, and there were secret places in the castle where ghosts ofthe past had their habitation. Weird figures were said to flit throughthe castle at night, restless spirits which revisited the scene offormer tragedies and crimes, and the room in which Graham slept wasknown to be haunted. Alas! he needed no troubled ancestor of theStrathmore house to visit him, for his own thoughts were sufficienttorment, and through the brief summer night and then through thedawning light of the morning he threshed the question which gnawed hisheart. Evil suggestions and suspicious remembrances of the past, whichwould have fled before the sunlight, surrounded him and looked out athim from the shadow with gibbering faces. Had he not been told thatJean laid traps for him in Paisley that she might secure the safety ofher lover Pollock, and also of her kinsman, Sir John Cochrane? Had shenot often spoken warmly of that Covenanting minister and expressed herbitter regret that her husband had compassed Pollock's death? She hadtried to keep him from attending the Convention, and of late days hadoften suggested that he had better be at peace and not stir up thecountry. After all, can you take out of the life what is bred in thebone?--and Jean Cochrane was of a Covenanting stock, and her mother avery harridan of bigotry. Might there not have been some sense in thefear of his friends that he would no longer be loyal to the goodcause, and was Jock Grimond's grudge against his marriage merestupidity and jealousy? Everyone was securing his safety and adjustinghimself to the new regime; there was hardly a Lowland gentleman whohad irretrievably pledged himself to King James, and as for thechiefs, they would fight for their own hand as they had always done, and could only be counted on for one thing, and that was securingplunder. Was not he alone, and would not he soon be either on thescaffold or an exile? The Whigs would soon be reigning in their gloryover Scotland, and it would be well with everyone that had theirpassword. If he were out of the way, would there not be a strongtemptation for her to make terms with her family and buy security byloyalty to their side? No doubt she was a strong woman, but, afterall, she was only a woman, and was she able to stand alone and liveforsaken at Glenogilvie, with friends neither among Cavaliers norCovenanters? Could he blame her if she separated herself from aruined cause and a discredited husband, for would she not be onlydoing what soldiers and courtiers had done, what everybody excepthimself was doing? Why should she, a young woman with life before her, tie herself up with a hopeless cause, and one who might be calledcommander-in-chief of James's army, but who had nothing to show for itbut a handful of reckless troopers and a few hundred Highland thieves, a man whom all sensible people would be regarding as a mad adventurer?Would it not be a stroke of wisdom--the Whigs were a cunning crew, andhe recalled that Lord Dundonald was an adroit schemer--to buy thefuture for herself and her child by selling him and returning to herold allegiance? There was enough reality in this ghost to give it, asit were, a bodily shape, and Graham, who had been flinging himselfabout, struck out with his fist as if at flesh and blood. 

"Damn you, begone, begone!"

For a while he lay quietly and made as though he would have slept. Then the ghosts began to gather around his bed again as if theCovenanters he had murdered had come from the other world and werehaving their day of vengeance. It must have been Jean who metLivingstone in the orchard, and it must have been an assignation. There was no woman in Dudhope had her height and carriage, and thevision of her proud face that he had loved so well brought scaldingtears to his eyes. For what purpose had she met Livingstone, if notto arrange some base surrender, if not to give information abouthim so that MacKay might find him more easily? Was it worse than that, if worse could be when all was black as hell? Livingstone had knownher for years; it had been evident that he admired her; he was anattractive man of his kind. Nothing was more likely in that day, when unlawful love was not a shame, but a boast, than that he had beenmaking his suit to Lady Dundee. Her husband was away, likely neverto return; she was a young and handsome woman, and Livingstone hadtime upon his hands at Dundee. A month ago he had sworn that thevirtue of his wife was unassailable as that of the Blessed Virgin; hewould have sworn it two days ago as he rode through Killiecrankie; butnow, with the brooding darkness round him and its awful shapespeopling the room, he was not sure of anything that was good andtrue. Had he not lived at Court, had he not known the great ladies, had not they tried to seduce him, and flung themselves at hishead? Was not Jean a woman like the rest, and why should his wife befaithful when every other woman of rank was an adulteress! This, then, was the end of it all, and he had suffered the last stroke oftreachery, and the last stain of dishonor. How he had been befooledand bewitched; what an actress she had been, with a manner thatwould have deceived the wisest! What a stupid, blundering fool hehad been! There are times, the black straits of life, when a manmust either pray or curse. If he be a saint he will pray, but Dundeewas not a saint, so he rose from his bed, and sweeping away the evilshapes from before him with his right arm, and then with his left, as one makes his road through high-standing corn that closes in behindhim, he raged from side to side of the room in which the day wasfaintly breaking, while unaccustomed oaths poured from his mouth. One thing only remained for him, and at the thought peace began tocome. He had planned weeks ago to visit Dundee again and give thechance to Livingstone's dragoons to join him, for he had reason tobelieve that they were not unalterably loyal. He was on his way toDundee now, and to-morrow he would be there, but he cared little whatthe dragoons would do; he had other folk to deal with. If he foundhe had been betrayed at home, and by her who had lain on his breast, and by a man whom he had counted his friend, they should know thevengeance of the Grahams. "Both of them--both of them to hell, andthen my work is done and I shall go to see them!"

It was characteristic of the man that, though he had no assistancefrom Grimond in the morning--for Jock dared not go near him--Dundeeappeared in perfect order, even more carefully dressed than usual; butas he rode from the door of Glamis Castle through the beautiful domainof park and wood, Grimond was aghast at his pinched and drawn face andthe gleam in his eye. "May the Lord hae mercy, but I doot sairly thathe is aff his head, and that there will be wild work at Dudhope. " Andwhile Grimond had all the imperturbable self-satisfaction and unshakendourness of the Lowland Scot, and never on any occasion acknowledgedthat he could be wrong or changed his way, he almost wished that hehad left this affair alone and had not meddled between his master andhis master's wife. It was again a fair and sunny day, when thefreshness of spring was feeling the first touch of summer, as Dundeeand his men rode up the pass through the hills from Strathmore toDundee. There were times when Graham would have breathed his horse atthe highest point, from which you are able to look down upon the sea, and drunk in the pure, invigorating air, and gazed at the distantstretches of the ocean. But he had no time to lose that day; he hadwork to do without delay. With all his delirium--and Graham's brainwas hot, and every nerve tingling--he retained the instincts of asoldier, and just because he was so suspicious of his reception hetook the more elaborate precautions. Before he entered the pass hisscouts made sure that he would not be ambuscaded, for it might be thathis approach was known, and that Livingstone, taking him at adisadvantage in the narrow way, by one happy stroke would complete histriumph. As he came near Dundee, he sent out a party to reconnoitre, while he remained with his troop to watch events. When the sound offiring was heard he knew that the garrison was on the alert, and thatthe town could only be taken by assault. The soldiers came gallopingback with several wounded men, having left one dead. Livingstone wasfor the moment safe in his fastness, and it was evident that thedragoons were not in a mind to desert their colors. By this time itwould be known at Dudhope that he was near, and the sooner he arrivedthe more chance of finding his wife. It was possible that Livingstonehad garrisoned Dudhope, and that if he rode forward alone he might besnared. But this risk he would take in the heat of his mind, andsummoning Grimond with a stern gesture to his side, and ordering thesoldiers to follow at a slight interval and to surround the castle, hegalloped forward to the door. The place appeared to be deserted, butat last, in answer to his knocking, as he beat on the door with thehilt of his sword, it was opened by an old woman who seemed the onlyservant left, and who was driven speechless by her master's unexpectedappearance and his wild expression. For, although John Graham had beena stern as well as just and kind master, and although he had oftenbeen angry, and was never to be trifled with, no one had ever seen himbefore other than cool and calm, smooth-spoken and master of himself. 

"What means it, Janet, or whatever be your name, that the door wasbarred and I kept standing outside my own house? What were ye doing, and who is within the walls? Speak out, and quickly, or I will makeyou do it at your pain. Have the dragoons been here, and are there anyhid in this place? Is my Lady Dundee in the castle, and if so, whereis she?" And then, when the panic-stricken woman could not findintelligible words before the unwonted fury of her master, he pushedher aside and, rushing up the stair, tore open the door of thefamiliar room where Jean and he usually sat--to find that she was notthere nor anywhere else in the castle, that his wife and the childwere gone. With this confirmation of his worst fears, his fever lefthim suddenly, and he came to himself, so far as the action of his mindand the passion of his manner were concerned. Sending for Janet, heexpressed his regret, with more than his usual courtesy, that he hadspoken roughly to her and for the moment had frightened her. Something, he said, had vexed him, but now she must not be afraid, butmust tell him some things that he wished to know. Had everything beengoing well at Dudhope since he left, and had her ladyship and mylittle lord been in good health? That was excellent. He hoped that thedragoons had not been troublesome or come about the castle? They hadnot? Well, that was satisfactory. Their commander, ColonelLivingstone, perhaps had called to pay his respects to Lady Dundee, and render any kindness he could? No, never been seen at the castle?That was strange. Her ladyship--where had she gone, for she did notappear to be in the castle, nor her maid nor the other servants? Wherewere they all? Had her ladyship taken refuge in Dundee for safety inthose troubled times? And as his master asked this question withstudied calmness and the gentlest of accents, Grimond shuddered, forthis was the heart of the matter, and there was murder in the answer. Not to Dundee--where then? To Glenogilvie, only last night in greathaste, as if afraid of someone or something happening. Of whom, ofwhat? But Janet did not know, and could only say that Lady Dundee andthe household had formed a sudden plan and departed at nightfall forthe old home of the Grahams. Whereat Dundee smiled, and, crossing to awindow and looking down upon the town, said to himself: "A cunningtrap. I was to be taken at Dundee, when in my hot haste, and thinkingI had an easy capture, I rushed the town without precautions, as Imight have done. While in quiet Glenogilvie my lady waited for histriumphant coming, victor and lover. It was a saving mercy, as herpeople would say, that our scouts drew their fire and brought out thesituation. They might have baited the trap at Dudhope had they beencleverer, and I been taken in my home with her by my side--but thatwould have been dangerous. Now it is left for me to see whether thetown could be rushed, and I have the last joy of one good stroke atColonel Livingstone. But if that be beyond my reach, as I fear it may, then haste me to Glenogilvie. "

During the day Graham hung about the outskirts of the town searchingfor some weak spot where he could make a successful entrance with histroopers. Before evening he was driven to the conclusion that anassault could only mean defeat and likely his own death, and he wishedto live at least for another day. So when the sun was setting he rodeaway from Dudhope, and on the crest of the hill that overhangs Dundee, he turned him in his saddle and looked down on the castle from whichhe had ruled the town, and where he had spent many glad days withJean. The shadows of evening were now gathering, and when he reachedthe home of his boyhood in secluded Glenogilvie the night had fallen. It was contrary to his pride to practise any tactics in his owncountry, and they rode boldly to the door from which he had gone outand in so often in earlier, happier days. They had been keeping watch, he noticed, for lights shifted in the rooms as they came near, andalmost as soon as he had crossed the threshold his wife came out fromher room to greet him. He marked in that instant that, though she wasstartled to see him, and had not looked for him so soon, she showed nosign of confusion or of guilt. Against his will he admired the courageof her carriage and her dignity in what he judged a critical hour ofher life. It was not their way to rush into one another's arms, thoughthere burned in them the hottest and fiercest passion of love. Inpresence of others they never gave themselves away, but carriedthemselves with a stately grace. "We heard you were on your way, mylord, " she simply said, "but I did not expect so quick a meeting. Haveye come from the north or from Perth? A messenger went to Lord Perth'shouse with news of the happenings at Dundee, but doubtless he missedyou. " She gave him her hand, over which he bent, and which he seemedto kiss, but did not. "We left Perth two days ago, " he replied, with acold, clear voice, which did not quite hide the underlying emotion, "and we have this day paid our visit to Dundee--to get a chillwelcome and find Dudhope empty. It was a pity that we missed themessenger, Lady Dundee, who doubtless sought for us diligently, for ifwe had known where you were when we left Glamis this morning, it hadbeen easy--aye, and in keeping with my mind--to turn aside and visitGlenogilvie. " They were still standing in the hall, and Jean had begunto realize that Dundee was changed, and that behind this cold courtesysome fire was burning. When they were alone she would, in othercircumstances, have cast herself in the proud surrender of a strongwoman's love into his arms, and he would have kissed her hair, herforehead, her eyes, her cheeks, her chin, and, last, her mouth; but atthe sight of his eyes she stood apart, and straightening herself, Jeansaid: "What is the meaning of this look, John, and what ails you? Yeseem as if ye had suffered some cruel blow. Has aught gone wrong withyou? Ye have come back in hot haste. "

"Yes, my Lady Dundee, something wrong with me, and maybe worse withyou. I have come quicker than I intended, and have had a somewhat coldreception at Dundee, but I grant you that was not your blame, you haddoubtless prepared a warmer. Livingstone was the laggard. "

"You are angry, John, and I now understand the cause. It was not myblame, for what woman could do I did, and maybe more than becomethyour wife, to win him over. He almost consented, and I declare to youthat Livingstone is with us. I could have sworn two days ago that theregiment would have joined us and been waiting for you. But thatdetermined Whig, Captain Balfour, discovered the plot, and I had amessage yesterday afternoon that it was hopeless. So for fear ofarrest I hurried to Glenogilvie, and tried to intercept your coming. Blame not me, for I could do no more--and what mean you by calling meever by my title and not by my name, after our parting for so long anddangerous a time?"

"You are right, Jean Cochrane, and I will do you this justice, yecould not do more than meet him in the orchard and in the dark of thenight. Yes, ye were both seen, and word was brought me to the north bya faithful messenger--I judge the only true heart left. That was finedoing and fine pleading, when he confessed that you had won his heart, but his honor was hindering him. Ye cannot deny the words, they aregraven on my heart like fire, and are burning it to the core. You, mywife, and whom I made my Lady Dundee, as if you had been a lowborncountry lass. "

"You are unjust, my lord, shamefully and cruelly unjust. It was not apleasant thing for me to do, and I hated myself in the stooping to doit, but there was no other way for it, since he dared not come in thedaylight, and I dared not go to him. Now I wish to God I had nevertroubled myself and never lifted my little finger to accomplish thisthing for the cause, since spies have been going and coming betweenDudhope and the north. What I did, I did for you and King James, andif I had succeeded ye would have praised me and said that a woman'swiles had won a regiment of horse. But because I have failed ye flingmy poor effort in my face, and make me angry with myself that I evertried to serve you--you who stand here reproaching me for mycondescension. "

"Well acted, my lady, and a very cunning tale. So it was to serve meye crept out at night disguised, and it was to win his heart for KingJames that ye spoke so tenderly? I never expected the day would comewhen John Graham of Claverhouse would call down blessings--aye, therichest benediction of heaven--upon a Covenanter, but I pray God tobless Captain Balfour with all things that he desires in this worldand in that which is to come. Because, though he knew not what he wasdoing, and might have served his own cause better by letting thingsrun their course, he saved, at least in the eyes of the world, myhonor, and averted the public shame of a treacherous wanton. "

As the words fell slowly and quietly from his lips, like drops ofvitriol, Jean's face reflected the rapid succession of emotions in herheart. She was startled as one not grasping the meaning of his words:she was horrified as their shameful charge emerged: she was strickento the heart as the man she had loved from out of all the world calledher by the vilest of all names a woman can hear. Then, being no gentleand timid young wife who could be crushed by a savage and unexpectedblow and find her relief in a flood of tears, but a proud anddetermined woman with the blood of two ancient houses in her veins, after the briefest pause she struck back at Dundee, carrying herselfat her full height, throwing back her head with an attitude of scorn, her face pale because intense feeling had called the blood back to theheart, and her eyes blazing with fury, as when the forked lightningbursts from the cloud and shatters a house or strikes a living persondead. And it was like her that she spoke almost as quietly as Graham, neither shrinking nor trembling. 

"This, then, is the cause of your strange carriage, Lord Dundee, whichI noted on your coming, and tried to explain in a simple and honorableway, for I had no key to your mind, and have not known you for whatyou are till this night. So that was the base thing you have beenimagining in your heart, as you rode through the North Country, andthat was the spur that drave you home with such haste--to guard yourhonor as a husband, and to put to shame an adulterous wife? Pardon meif I was slow in catching your meaning, the charge has taken mesomewhat by surprise. " And already, before her face, Dundee began toweaken and to shrink for the first time in his life. 

"And you are the man whom I, Jean Cochrane, have loved alone ofall men in the world, and for whose love I forsook my mother and myhouse, and became a stranger in the land! You are the husband whomI trusted utterly, for whom I was willing to make the last sacrificeof life, of whom I boasted in my heart, in whom I placed all my joy! Iknew you were a bigot for your cause; I knew you were cruel in thedoing of your work; I knew you had a merciless ambition; I knew youhad an unmanageable pride; I have not lain in your arms nor livedby your side, I have not heard you speak nor seen you act, withoutunderstanding how obstinate is the temper of your mind, and how fieryis your heart. For those faults I did not love you less, and ofthem I did not complain, for they were my own also. That you wereincapable of trusting, that you could suspect your wife of dishonor, that you would be moved by the report of a spy, a baseborn peasantman, that you could offer the last gross, unpardonable insult to avirtuous woman, is what I never could have even imagined. TheCovenanters called you by many evil names, and I did not believethem. I believe every one of them now--they did not tell half thetruth. They called you persecutor and murderer, they forgot to callyou what I now do. As when one strikes a cur with a whip, so toyour fair, false face I call you liar and coward. Peace till I bedone, and then you may kill me, for it were better I should not live, and if I had the sword of one of my kinsfolk here I would kill youwhere you stand. God in heaven, what an accusation! A wife of fiveyears, and a mother of only a few weeks, that she should sin withan honorable man who is her friend and her husband's friend! DidLivingstone say, according to that dastard hiding in the wood, thathis heart was with us? That was with our cause, and not with me. Did he say honor hindered him? That was not honor towards you, itwas honor towards his colors. But honor is a strange word in your earsnow, my lord. I have never thought of Livingstone more than anyother man who has a good name and has never betrayed a trust. Thisnight my heart is favorable to him, for I saw him in an agony abouthis honor, and I judge if he were a woman's husband, and she was sucha woman as I am before God this day, he would rather die thaninsult her. "

"Ye wished for some weapon wherewith to take a coward's life. Here ismy sword, Jean, and here is my heart. I would not be sorry to die, andI would rather take the last stroke from you than from my enemies. Itis not worth while to live, for I have no friend, and soon shall haveno possessions. My cause is forlorn, and my name is a byword, and now, by my own doing, I have lost my only love. Strike just here, and myblood will be an atonement to thee for my sin, and generations unbornwill bless the hand which slew Claverhouse. 

"Ye hesitate for a moment"--for she was holding the sword by the hilt, and her face was still clouded with gloom, although the fire was dyingdown. "Then I will use that moment, not to ask your pardon, for Ijudge you are not a woman to forgive--and neither should I be in yourplace--but to explain. I shall not speak of my love for you, for thatnow ye will not believe, nor of my shame in having received those evilthoughts for a moment into my heart. I have never known the bitternessof shame before, but I would fain tell how it happened, that theremembrance of me be less black after we have parted forever. Had Ibeen in my natural state it had been impossible for me to doubt thee, Jean, and if I had seen thee sin before mine eyes, I would havethought it was another. But my mind has been distraught throughweariness of the body on the long rides, and nights without sleep as Ilay a-planning, and the desertion of friends in whom I trusted, andthe refusals of men of whom I expected loyalty, and the humiliatinghelplessness before William's general, my old rival MacKay. I wasalmost mad. In the night-time, I think, I was mad altogether. But Ihad always one comfort, like a single star shining in a dark sky, andthat was the faithfulness of my wife. When a cloud obscured thatsolitary light, then a frenzy passed into my blood. I ceased toreason, and according to the measure of my love was my foolish, groundless hate. "

"Take back your sword, Dundee, for I am not now minded to use it. Fiveminutes ago it had been dangerous to give it me. If ye fall, it shallbe by another hand than your wife's, and in another place than yourhome. We have said words to one another this night which neither of uswill lightly pardon, for we are not of the pardoning kind. I do notfeel as I did: my anger has turned into sorrow; the idol of myidolatry is broken--my fair model of chivalry--and now I can onlygather together the pieces. Even while I hated you I was lovingyou--this is the contradiction of a woman's heart--and I knew thatlove of me had made you mad. Whatever happens, I will always rememberthat you loved me, but my dream has vanished--forever. "

They spent next day walking quietly in the glen, and the followingmorning he left for his last campaign. They said farewell alone, butafter he was in the saddle Lady Dundee lifted up the child for him tokiss--which was to die before the year was out. He turned as they wereriding down the road and waved his plumed hat to his wife, where shestood, still holding the child in her arms. And that was the last JeanCochrane saw of Claverhouse. 

BOOK IV

CHAPTER I

TREASON IN THE CAMP

Since the day Dundee rode away from Glenogilvie, after the scene withJean, he was a man broken in heart, but he hid his private woundbravely, and gave himself with the fiercer energy to the king'sbusiness. Hither and thither through the Highlands he raced, so thathe was described in letters of that day as "skipping from one hill toanother like wildfire, which at last will vanish of itself for want offuel, " and "like an incendiary to inflame that cold country, yet hefinds small encouragement. " Anything more pathetic than this lastendeavor of Dundee, except it be his death, cannot be imagined. Theclans were not devoured with devotion to King James, and were not thevictims of guileless enthusiasm; they were not the heroes of romancedepicted by Jacobite poets and story-tellers: they were half-starved, entirely ignorant, fond of fighting, but largely intent on stealing. If there was any chance of a foray in which they could gather spoil, they were ready to fling themselves into the fray, but as soon as theyhad gained their end, they would make for the glens and leave theirgeneral in the lurch. Whether they would rise or not depended neitheron the merits of William or James, but in the last issue upon theirchiefs--and the chiefs were not easy to move. Some of them werehostile, and most of them lukewarm; and Dundee drank the cup ofhumiliation as he canvassed for his cause from door to door. Bypleading, by arguing, by cajoling, by threatening, by promising and bybribing, he got together some two thousand men, more or less, and hehad also the remains of his cavalry. His king had, as usual, left himto fend for himself, and sent him nothing but an incapable Irishofficer called Cannon and some ragged Irish recruits, while MacKay waswatching him and following him with a well-equipped force. Now andagain the sun shone on him and he had glimpses of victory, drivingMacKay for days before him, and keeping up communication withLivingstone, who had come from Dundee with his dragoons, and wasplaying the part of traitor in MacKay's army--for Jean was stilldetermined, with characteristic obstinacy and indifference tosuspicion, to reap the fruit of her negotiation with Livingstone. Itseemed as if Dundee would at least gain a few troops of cavalry, whichwould be a great advantage to him and a disquieting event for MacKay'sarmy. But again the Fates were hostile, and misfortune dogged theJacobite cause. MacKay got wind of the plot, Livingstone and hisfellow-officers were arrested, and Jean's scheming, with all its wearyexpedients and bitter cost, came to naught. 

When Claverhouse, in the height of summer, started on his lastcampaign and descended on Blair Athole, he carried himself as one inthe highest spirits and assured of triumph. He sent word everywherethat things were going well with the cause, and that the whole worldwas with him; he made no doubt of crushing MacKay if he opposed hismarch into the Lowlands, and of entering Edinburgh after anotherfashion than he had left it. He kept a bold front, and wrote in abuoyant style; but this was partly the pride of his house, and partlythe tactics of a desperate leader. Though a bigot to his cause, Grahamwas not a madman. He was a thorough believer in the power of guerrillatroops, but he knew that in the end they would go down before theregulars. He hoped, by availing himself of the hot courage of theclansmen, to deal a smashing blow at his old rival, but unless theLowlands and the regulars joined James's side, there was not theremotest chance of unseating William from his new throne. His wordswere high, but his heart was anxious, as he hurried with his littlearmy to strike once at least for the king, and to make his lastadventure. He had decided on the line of march to be taken nextmorning, and the place where he would join issue with MacKay, who wascoming up from Perth with a small army of regular troops, many of whomwere veterans. He had discussed the matter with his staff, and settledwith the jealous and irascible chiefs as best he could the positionthey were to take on the battle-field, and he had fallen into a fit ofgloomy meditation, when Grimond entered the room in Blair Castle, where Dundee had his headquarters for the night. 

If Grimond, for pure malice or even for jealousy, had invented thatunhappy interview between Lady Dundee and Livingstone, or if it hadbeen shown that he had by a word perverted the conversation, thenhis master, who had sent many a Covenanter to death, because he lovedhis religion more than King James, would have shot even thatfaithful servant without scruple and with satisfaction. But it wasin keeping with the chivalry of Dundee--his sense of justice, hisappreciation of loyalty, and his admiration for thoroughness--thathe took no revenge for his own madness upon the unwitting causethereof. During the brief stay at Glenogilvie, Grimond hid himselfwith discretion, so that neither his master nor mistress either sawor heard of him, and when Dundee left his home with his men, Grimond was not in the company. But as a dog which is not sure of awelcome from its master, or rather expects a blow and yet cannot leavehim or let him go alone, will suddenly join him on the road by whichhe is making his journey, and will follow him distantly, but everkeep him in sight, so Jock was found one morning among the troopers. He kept as far from his master as he could and was careful not toobtrude himself or offer to resume a servant's duty. Dundee's facehardened at the sight of him, but he said no word, and Jock madeno approach. With wise discretion he remained at a distance, andseemed anxious to be forgotten, but he had his own plan of operations. One morning Dundee found his bits and stirrups and the steel work ofhis horse furnishing polished and glittering as they had not beensince he rode to Glenogilvie, and he suspected that an old hand hadbeen at work. Another day his cuirass was so well and carefullydone, his uniform so perfectly brushed and laid out, and his lacecravat so skilfully arranged that he was certain Grimond was doingsecret duty. Day by day the signs of his attention grew morefrequent and visible, till at last one morning he appeared in person, and without remark began to assist his master with his arms. Nothingpassed between them, and for weeks relations were very strained, but before the end Grimond knew that he had been forgiven for hissuperfluity of loyalty, and Dundee was thankful that, as theshadows settled upon his life blacker and deeper every day, onehonest man was his companion, and would remain true when everyfair-weather friend and false schemer had fled. One can makeexcuses for jealousy when it is another name for love; one may notquarrel with doggedness when it is another name for devotion. Thereare not too many people who have in them the heart to be faithful untodeath, not too many who will place one's interest before their ownlife. When one's back is at the wall, and he is not sure even of hisnearest, he will not despise or quarrel with the roughest or plainestman who will stand by his side and share his lot, either of life ordeath. So Jock was reinstated without pardon asked or given, andwith no reference to the tragedy of Glenogilvie, and Dundee knew thathe had beside him a faithful and fearless watchdog of the tough oldScottish breed. As Grimond busied himself with preparations for theevening meal--among other dark suspicions he had taken into his headthat Dundee might be poisoned--his master's eye fell on him, andat the sight memory woke. John Graham recalled the days when Grimondreceived him from the charge of his nurse, and took him out uponthe hills round Glenogilvie. How he taught him to catch trout withhis own hands below the big stones of the burn, how he told him thenames of the wild birds and their ways, how he gave him his firstlesson in sport, how one day he saved his life, when he was about tobe gored by an infuriated bull. All the kindness of this hard manand his thoughtfulness, all his faithfulness and unselfishness, touched Dundee's heart--a heart capable of affection for a few, though it could never be called tender, and capable of sentiment, though rather that which is bound up with a cause than with a person. 

"Jock, " said Graham, with a certain accent of former days and kindlydoings. Now, a person's name may mean anything according to the way inwhich it is pronounced. It may be an accusation, a rebuke, an insult, a threat, or it may be an appeal, a thanksgiving, a benediction, acaress. And at the sound of the word, said more kindly than he hadever heard it, Grimond turned him round and looked at his master; hisgrim, lean, weather-beaten face relaxed and softened and grew almostgentle. 

"Maister John, Maister John, " and suddenly he did a thing incrediblefor his undemonstrative, unsentimental, immovable granite nature. Heknelt down beside Dundee, and seizing his hand, kissed it, while tearsrolled down his cheeks. "My laddie, and my lord, baith o' them, thisis the best day o' my life, for ye've forgiven me my terrible mistake, and my sin against my mistress. It's sore against my grain to confessthat I was wrang, for it's been my infirmity to be always richt, but Isinned in this matter grievously, and micht have done what could neverbe put richt. But oh! my lord, it was a' for love's sake, for though Ibe only a serving man to the house of Graham, I dare to say I havebeen faithful. With neither wife nor child, I have nothing but you, my lord, and I have nothing to live for but your weel. When ye wereangry wi' me I didna blame you, I coonted ye just, but 'twas to me aswhen the sun gaes behind the clouds. I cared neither to eat nordrink--had it not been for your sake, I didna care to live. But noo, when ye've buried the past and taken me back into your favor, I'm inthe licht again, and I carena what happens to me, neither hardship nordeath. Oh! my loved lord, will ye call me Jock again? When the severeand self-contained Lowland Scot takes fire, there is such strength offuel in him, that he burns into white heat, and there is no quenchingof the flame. And at that moment Graham understood, as he had onlyimagined before, the passion which can be concealed in the heart of aScots retainer. 

"Get up, Jock, you old fool and--my trusty friend. " Claverhouseconcealed but poorly behind his banter the emotion of his heart, forJock had found him in a lonely mood. 

"You and me are no made for kneeling, except to our Maker and ourking. Faith, I judge we are better at the striking. Aye, we arefriends again, and shall be till the end, which I am thinking may notbe far off. Ye gave me a bitter time, the like of which I never hadbefore, and beside which death, when it comes, will be welcome, but yedid it not in baseness, but in all honesty. It was our calamity. Life, Jock, is full o' sic calamities, and we are all for the maist part atcross purposes. It seemeth to me as if we were travelling in thedarkness, knowing not whether the man beside us be friend or foe, andoften striking at our friends by mistake. But we must march on tillthe day breaks. 

"It'll break for us soon, at any rate, " went on Dundee, "for byto-morrow night the matter will be settled between General MacKay andme. Div ye mind, Jock, how I fain would have fought with him at TheHague, and he wouldna take my challenge?"

"Cowardly and cold-blooded Whig like the lave o' them, " burst outJock, in a strong reaction from his former mood of tenderness. "Leavehim to look after himsel', he micht have stood mair nor once thae lastweeks and faced ye like a man, but would he? Na, na, he ran afore ye, and I doot sair whether he will give you a chance to-morrow. "

"Have no fear of that, Jock, we've waited long for our duel, but, yemay take my word for it, it will come off at Killiecrankie before thesun goes down again behind the hills. There will be a fair field and afree fight, and the best man will win; and, Jock, I will not be sorrywhen the sun sets. What ails you, Jock, for your face is downcast?That didna used to be the way with you in the low country on theprospect of battle. Div ye mind Seneffe and the gap in the wall?"

"Fine, my lord, fine, and I'll acknowledge that I've nae rootedobjection in principle or in practice to fechtin'--that is, when it'sto serve a richt cause and there be a good chance o' victory, to saynothing o' profit. But a' thing maun be fair and aboveboard, and I'mdootin' whether that will be the case the mornin'. What I'm feared o'is no war, but black murder. " And there was an earnestness inGrimond's tone which arrested Dundee. 

"My lord, " said Jock, in answer to the interrogation on his master'sface, "I came here to speak, if Providence gave me the chance, foraifter all that has happened, I didna consider your ear would be opento hear me. When a man has made as big a mistake as I have dune, andcaused as muckle sorrow, it behooves him to walk softly, and this ispairt of his judgment that them he loves most may trust him least. 

"Na, na, my lord, " for the face of Dundee was beginning again toblacken. "I've no a word to say against her ladyship. I gather shehas been doing what she can for the cause wi' them slippery rascals o'dragoons and their Laodicean commander, of whom I have my ainthoughts. I fear me, indeed, to say what I have found, and what I amsuspecting, for ye hae reason to conclude that my head is full o'plots, and that broodin' ower treachery has made me daft. "

"What is it now, Jock?" in a tone between amusement and seriousness. "Ye havena found a letter from Lochiel to the Prince of Orange, offering to win the reward upon my head, or caught General MacKay, dressed in a ragged kilt, stealing about through the army? Out withit, and let us know the worst at once. "

"Ye are laughin', Maister John, and I will not deny ye havejustification. I wish to God I be as far frae the truth this time as Iwas last time, but there is some thin' gaein' on in the camp thatbodes nae gude to yersel', and through you to the cause. It was notfor naethin' I watched two of our new recruits for days, and heard asnap o' their conversation yesterday on the march. "

"I'll be bound, Jock, ye heard some wild talk, for I doubt our men arereadier with an oath than a Psalm and a loose story than a sermon. But we must just take them as they come--rough men for rough work, anddesperate men for a wild adventure. "

"Gude knows, my ears are weel accustomed to the clatter of the camp, and it's no a coarse word here or there would offend Jock Grimond. Butthe men I mean are of the other kind; they speak like gentlefolk, andmicht, for the manner o' them, sit wi' her ladyship in DudhopeCastle. "

"Broken gentlemen, very likely, Jock. There have always been plenty inour ranks. Surely you are not going to make that a crime at this timeof the day. If I had five hundred of that kidney behind me, I woulddrive MacKay--horse, foot and bits of artillery--like chaff before thewind. A gentleman makes a good trooper, and when he has nothing tolose, he's the very devil to fight. "

"But that's no a' else. I wouldna have troubled you, my lord, but thetwo are aye the-gither, and keep in company like a pair o' dogspoachin'. They have the look o' men who are on their gaird, and arefeared o' bein' caught by surprise. According to their story they hadserved with Livingstone's dragoons, and had come over to us becausethey were for the good cause. But ain o' Livingstone's lads whadeserted at the same time, and has naethin' wrong wi' him except thathe belongs to Forfar and has a perpetual drouth, tells me that our twafriends were juist in and oot, no mair than a week wi' the dragoons. My idea is that they went wi' Livingstone to get to us. And whatfor--aye, what for?"

"For King James, I should say, and a bellyful of fighting, " saidDundee carelessly. 

"Maybe ye're richt, and if so, there's no mischief done; and maybeye're wrang, and if so, there will be black trouble. At ony rate, Ididna like the story, and I wasna taken wi' the men. No that they'rebad-lookin', but they're after some ploy. Weel, they ride bythemsel's, and they camp by themsel's, and they eat by themsel's, andthey sleep by themsel's. So this midday, when we haltit, they made offto the bank o' the river, and settled themsel's ablow a tree, and bychance a burn ran into the river there wi' a high bank on the sidenext them. Are ye listenin', my lord?"

"Yes, yes, " said Dundee, whose thoughts had evidently been far away, and who was attaching little importance to Jock's groundless fears. "Go on. So you did a bit of scouting, I suppose?"

"I did, " said Jock, with some pride, "and they never jaloused wha waslying close beside them, like a tod (fox) in his hole. I'm noprepared to say that I could catch a' their colloguing, but I gotenough to set me thinkin'. Juist bits, but they could be piecedtogither. "

"Well, " said Dundee, with more interest, "what were the bits?"

"The one asks the other where he keeps his pass. 'Sown in the liningof my coat, ' says he. 'Where's yours?' 'In my boot, ' answers he, 'thesafest place. ' Who gave them the passes, thinks I to myself, and whatare they hiding them for? So I cocks both my ears to hear the rest. "

"And what was that, Jock?" And Dundee now was paying close attention. 

"For a while they spoke so low I could only hear, 'This underhand workgoes against my stomach. ' 'Aha, my lad, so it's underhand, ' says I inmy hole. 'It's worth the doing, ' says the other, 'and a big stroke ofwork if we succeed. It might be a throne one way or other. ' 'Not tous, ' laughs the first. 'No, ' says his friend, 'but we'll have ourshare. ' 'This is no ordinary work, ' says I to mysel', and I risked myears out of the hole. 'It's no an army, ' says one o' them, 'but juista rabble, and a' depends on one man. ' 'You're right there, ' answersthe other, 'if he falls all is over. ' Then they said something to oneanother I couldn't catch, and then one stretched himself, as I took itby his kicking a stone into the river, and rose, saying, 'By heaven!we'll manage it. ' The other laughed as he rose too, and as they wentaway the last words I heard were, 'The devil, Jack, is more likely tobe our friend. ' Notice this, my lord, every word in the Englishtongue, as fine and smooth spoken as ye like. Where did they comefrom, and what are they after? Aye, and wha is to fall, that's thequestion, my lord?"

Dundee started, for Jock's story had unloosed a secret fear in hismind, which he had often banished, but which had been returning withgreat force. As a band holds together the sheaf of corn, so he alonekept King James's army. Apart from him there was no cohesion, andapart from him there was no commander. With his death, not only wouldthe forces disperse, but the cause of King James would be ended. If hewere out of the way, William would have no other cause for anxiety, and he knew the determined and cold-blooded character of his formermaster. William had given him his chance, and he had not taken it. Hewould have no more scruple in assassinating his opponent than inbrushing a fly off the table. Instead of gathering an army andfighting him through the Highlands and Lowlands, just one stroke of adirk or a pistol bullet and William is secure on his throne. "Jock maybe right for once, " said Claverhouse to himself, "and, by heaven! if Iam to fall, I had rather be shot in front than behind. " He wrote anorder to the commander of the cavalry, and in fifteen minutes the twotroopers were standing before him disarmed and guarded. 

The moment Dundee looked at them he knew that Jock was correct insaying that they were not common soldiers, for they had theunmistakable manner of gentlemen, and as soon as they spoke he alsoknew that they were Englishmen. One was tall and fair, with honestblue eyes, which did not suggest treachery, the other was shorter anddark, with a more cautious and uncertain expression. 

"For certain reasons, gentlemen, " said Dundee, with emphasis upon theword, "I desire by your leave to ask you one or two questions. If youwill take my advice, you had better answer truthfully. I will notwaste time about things I know. What brought you from Livingstone'sdragoons to us? why were ye so short a time with them? and why did yeleave the English army? Tell no lies, I pray you. I can see that yeare soldiers and have been officers. Why are you with us in the guiseof troopers?"

"You know so much, my lord, " said the taller man, with that outspokencandor which is so taking, "that I may as well tell you all. We haveheld commissions in the army, and are, I suppose, officers to-day, though they will be wondering where we are, and we should be shot ifwe were caught. You will excuse me giving our names, for theycould not be easily kept. We belong to families which have ever beentrue to their king, and we came north to take a share in the goodwork. That is the only way that we could manage it, and we do notfancy it overmuch, but we have taken our lives in our hands for theadventure. "

"You are men of spirit, I can see, " said Dundee ironically, "but yeare wise men also, and have reduced your risks. Would you do me thefavor of showing the passes with which you provided yourselves beforeleaving England? Save yourselves the trouble of--argument. One of youhas got his pass in his coat, and the other in his boot. I'm sure youwould not wish to be stripped. "

The shorter man colored with vexation and then paled, but the otheronly laughed like a boy caught in a trick, and said, "There are quickeyes, or, more likely, quick ears, in this army, my lord. " Then, without more ado, they handed Lord Dundee the passes. "As I expected, "said Dundee, "to the officers of King William's army, and to allow thebearers to go where they please, and signed by his Majesty's secretaryof state. " And Dundee looked at them with a mocking smile. 

"Damn those passes!" said the spokesman with much geniality. "I alwaysthought we should have destroyed them once we were safely through theother lines, but my friend declared they might help us afterwards intime of need. "

"And now, gentlemen, they are going to hang you, for shooting is toohonorable for spies and, worse than spies, assassins, for, " concludedDundee softly, "it was to shoot me you two loyal Cavaliers havecome. "

The shorter man was about to protest, in hope of saving his life, buthis comrade waved him to be silent, and for the last time took up thetalk. 

"We are caught in a pretty coil, my lord. Circumstances are againstus, and we have nothing to put on the other side, except our word ofhonor as gentlemen. Neither my comrade nor I are going to plead forour lives, though we don't fancy being hung. But perhaps of yourcourtesy, if we write our names, you will allow a letter to go toGeneral MacKay, and that canting Puritan will be vastly amused when helearns that he had hired us to assassinate my Lord Dundee. He will bemore apt to consider our execution an act of judgment for joining theMalignants. We got our passes by trickery from Lord Nottingham, andthey have tricked us, and, by the gods! the whole affair is a finejest, except the hanging. I would rather it had been shooting, but Igrant that if MacKay had sent us on such an errand, both he and wedeserve to be hung. " And the Englishman shrugged his shoulders as onewho had said his last word and accepted his fate. 

He carried himself so bravely, with such an ingenuous countenance andhonest speech, that Claverhouse was interested in the man, and thereference to MacKay arrested him in his purpose. They were not likelyto have come on such an errand from MacKay's camp without the Englishgeneral knowing what they were about. Was MacKay the man to sanction aproceeding so cowardly and so contrary to the rules of war? Of allthings in the world, was not this action the one his principles wouldmost strongly condemn? Certainly their conversation by the riversidehad been suspicious, but then Grimond had made one hideous mistakebefore. It was possible that he had made another. Graham had insultedhis loyal wife through Grimond's blundering; it would be almost as badif he put to an ignominious death two adventurous, blundering EnglishCavaliers. He ordered that the Englishmen should be kept under closearrest till next morning, and he sent the following letter by a swiftmessenger and under flag of truce to the general of the Englishforces. 

 BLAIR CASTLE, _July 26, 1689_. 

 _To Major-General Hugh MacKay, Commanding the forces in the interests of the Prince of Orange. _

 SIR: It is years since we have met and many things have happened since, but I freely acknowledge that you have ever been a good soldier and one who would not condescend to dishonor. And this being my mind I crave your assistance in the following matter. 

 Two English officers have been arrested in disguise and carrying compromising passes; there is reason to believe that their errand was to assassinate me, and if this be the case they shall be hung early to-morrow morning. 

 Albeit we were rivals in the Low Country and will soon fight our duel to the death, I am loath to believe that this thing is true of you, and I will ask of you this last courtesy, for your sake and mine and that of the two Englishmen, that ye tell me the truth. 

 I salute you before we fight and I have the honor to be, Your most obedient servant, DUNDEE. 

CHAPTER II

VISIONS OF THE NIGHT

Upon the highest floor of Blair Castle there was a long andspacious apartment, like unto the gallery in Paisley Castle, whereJohn Graham had been married to Jean Cochrane, and which to-day isthe drawing-room. To this high place Claverhouse climbed from the roomwhere he had examined the two Englishmen, and here he passed thelast hours of daylight on the day before the battle of Killiecrankie. Seating himself at one of the windows, he looked out towards thewest, through whose golden gates the sun had begun to enter. Beneath lay a widespreading meadow which reached to the Garry;beyond the river the ground began to rise, and in the distance werethe hills covered with heather, with lakes of emerald amid thepurple. There are two hours of the day when the soul of man ispowerfully affected by the physical world in which we live, and inwhich, indeed, the things we see become transparent, like a thinveil, and through them the things which are not seen stream in uponthe soul. One is sunrise, when there is first a grayness in theeast, and then the clouds begin to redden, and afterwards a joyfulbrightness heralds the appearing of the sun as he drives in rout thereluctant rearguard of the night. The most impressive moment iswhen all the high lands are bathed in soft, fresh, hopeful sunshine, but the glens are still lying in the cold and dank shadow, so thatone may suddenly descend from a place of brightness, where he hasbeen in the eye of the sun, to a land of gloom, which the sun has notyet reached. Sunrise quickens the power that has been sleeping, and calls a man in high hope to the labor of the day, for if therebe darkness lingering in the glen, there is light on the loftytable-lands, and soon it will be shining everywhere, when the sunhas reached his meridian. And it puts heart into a man to come overthe hill and down through the hollows when the sun is rising, forthough the woods be dark and chill, the traveller is sure of theinevitable victory of the light. 

Yet more imperious and irresistible is the impression of sunset asDundee saw the closing pageant of the day on the last evening of hislife. When first he looked the green plain was flooded with gentlelight which turned into gold the brown, shaggy Highland cattlescattered among the grass, and made the river as it flashed out andin among the trees a chain of silver, and took the hardness from thejagged rocks that emerged from the sides of the hills. As the sunentered in between high banks of cloud, the light began to fade fromthe plain, and it touched the river no more; but above the clouds wereglowing and reddening like a celestial army clad in scarlet andescorting home to his palace a victorious general. In a fewminutes the sun has disappeared, and the red changes into violetand delicate, indescribable shades of green and blue, like thecolor of Nile water. Then there is a faint flicker, sudden andtransient, from the city into which the sun has gone, and the day isover. As the monarch of the day withdraws, the queen of the nighttakes possession, and Claverhouse, leaning his chin upon his handand gazing from the sadness of his eyes across the valley, saw thesilver light, clear, beautiful, awful, flood the mountains and thelevel ground below, till the outstanding hills above, and thecattle which had lain down to rest in the meadow, were thrown out asin an etching, with exact and distinct outlines. The day, withits morning promise, with its noontide heat, with its evening glory, was closed, completed and irrevocable. The night, in which no man canwork, had come, and in the cold and merciless light thereof everyman's work was revealed and judged. The weird influence of thehour was upon the imagination of an impressionable man, and beforehim he saw the history of his life. It seemed only a year or sosince he was a gay-hearted lad upon the Sidlaw hills, and yesterdaysince he made his first adventure in arms, with the army of France. Again he is sitting by the camp-fire in the Low Country, and crossingswords for the first time with Hugh MacKay, with whom he is tosettle his warfare to-morrow. He is again pledging his loyalty toKing James at Whitehall, whom he has done his best to serve, and whohas been but a sorry master to him. His thoughts turn once more to thepleasaunce of Paisley Castle, he hears again the jingling of thehorses' bits as he pledges his troth to his bride. Across themoss-hags, where the horses plunge in the ooze and the mist encirclesthe troopers, he is hunting his Covenanting prey, and catches thefearless face of some peasant zealot as he falls pierced with bullets. Jean weaves her arms round his neck, for once in her life a tenderand fearful woman, pleading that he should withdraw from the fightand live quietly with her at home, and then, more like herself, sherages in the moment of his mad jealousy and her unquenchableanger. To-morrow he would submit to the final arbitrament of armsthe cause for which he had lived, and for which the presentimentwas upon him that he would die, and the quarrel begun between himand MacKay fifteen years ago, between the sides they representcenturies ago, would be settled. If the years had been given back tohim to live again, he would not have had them otherwise. Destiny hadsettled for him his politics and his principles, for he could notleave the way in which Montrose had gone before, or be the comrade ofCovenanting Whigs. It would have been a thing unnatural andimpossible. And yet he feared that the future was with them andnot with the Jacobites. He only did his part in arresting fanaticalhillmen and executing the punishment of the law upon them, but hewould have been glad that night if he had not been obliged to shootJohn Brown of Priest Hill before his wife's eyes, and keep guard atthe scaffold from which Pollock went home to God. He had never lovedany other woman than Jean Cochrane, and they were well mated intheir high temper of nature, but their marriage had been tempestuous, and he was haunted with vague misgivings. What light was given himhe had followed, but there was little to show for his life. His kinghad failed him, his comrades had distrusted him, his nation hatedhim. His wife--had she forgiven him, and was she true-hearted to himstill? Behind high words of loyalty and hope his heart had beensinking, and now it seemed to him in the light of eternal judgment, wherein there is justice but no charity, that his forty years hadfailed and were leaving behind them no lasting good to his house or tohis land. The moonlight shining full upon Claverhouse shows many aline now on the smoothness of his fair girl face, and declares hishidden, inextinguishable sorrow, who all his days had been an actorin a tragedy. He had written to the chiefs that all the world waswith him, but in his heart he knew that it was against him, andperhaps also God. 

Once and again Grimond had come into the gallery to summon his masterto rest, but seeing him absorbed in one of his reveries had quietlywithdrawn. Full of anxiety, for he knows what the morrow will mean, that faithful servitor at last came near and rustled to catch hismaster's ear. 

"Jock, " said Claverhouse, startling and rising to his feet, "is thatyou, man, coming to coax me to my bed as ye did lang syne, when yereceived me first from my nurse's hands? It's getting late, and I amneeding rest for to-morrow's work, if I can get it. We have come toArmageddon, as the preachers would say, and mony things for mony dayshang on the issue. All a man can do, Jock, is to walk in the road thatwas set before him from a laddie, and to complete the task laid to hishand. What will happen afterwards doesna concern him, so be it he isfaithful. Where is my room? And, hark ye, Jock, waken me early, and benot far from me through the night, for I can trust you altogether. Andthere be not mony true. "

Worn out with a long day in the saddle, and the planning of theevening together with many anxieties, and the inward tumult of hismind, Claverhouse fell asleep. He was resting so quietly that Grimond, who had gone to the door to listen, was satisfied and lay down tocatch an hour or two of sleep for himself, for he could waken at anyhour he pleased, and knew that soon after daybreak he must bestirring. While he was nearby heavy with sleep, his master, consciousor unconscious, according as one judges, was in the awful presence ofthe unseen. He woke suddenly, as if he had been called, and knew thatsomeone was in the room, but also in the same instant that it was notGrimond or any visitor of flesh and blood. Twice had the wraith of theGrahams appeared to him, and always before a day of danger, but thistime it was no sad, beautiful woman's face, carrying upon its weirdgrace the sorrows of his line, but the figure of a man that loomedfrom the shadow. The moon had gone behind a cloud, and the room was sodark that he could only see that someone was there, but could not tellwho it was or by what name he would be called. Then the moon struggledout from behind her covering, and sent a shaft of light into thegloomy chamber, with its dark draping and heavy carved furniture. Withthe coming of the light Claverhouse, who was not unaccustomed toghostly sights, for they were his heritage, raised himself in bed, andknowing no fear looked steadily. What he saw thrown into reliefagainst the shadows was the figure of a hillman of the west, and onethat in an instant he knew. The Covenanter was dressed in roughhomespun hodden gray, stained heavily with the black of the peatholes in which he had been hiding, and torn here and there where therocks had caught him as he was crawling for shelter. Of middle age, with hair hanging over his ears and beard uncared for, his face boreall the signs of hunger and suffering, as of one who had wanted rightfood and warmth and every comfort of life for months on end. In hiseyes glowed the fire of an intense and honest, but fierce and narrowpiety, and with that expression was mingled another, not of anger norof sorrow, but of reproach, of judgment and of sombre triumph. Hishands were strapped in front of him with a stirrup leather, and hishead was bare. As the moon shone more clearly, Claverhouse saw otherstains than those of peat upon his chest, and while he looked the redblood seemed to rise from wounds that pierced his heart and lungs, itflowed out again in a trickling stream, and dripped upon the whitenessof his hands. More awful still, there was a wound in his forehead, andpart of his head was shattered. The scene had never been absent longfrom Claverhouse's memory, and now he reacted it again. How this manhad been caught after a long pursuit, upon the moor, how he had stoodbold and unrepentant before the man that had power of life and deathover him, how he refused to take the oath of loyalty to the king, howhe had been shot dead before his cottage, and how his wife had beenspectator of her husband's death. 

"Ye have not forgot me, John Graham of Claverhouse, nor the deed whichye did at Priest Hill in the West Country. I am John Brown, whom yecaused to be slain for the faith of the saints and their testimony, and whom ye set free from the bondage of man forever. Behold, I havewashed my robes and made them white in better blood than this, but Iam sent in the garment o' earth, sair stained wi' its defilement, andin my ain unworthy blude, that ye may ken me and believe that I amsent. "

"What I did was according to law, " answered Claverhouse, unshaken bythe sight, "and in the fulfilling of my commission, though God knows Iloved not the work, and have oftentimes regretted thy killing. Forthat and all the deeds of this life I shall answer to my judge and notto man. What wilt thou have with me, what hast thou to do with me? Hadit been the other way and I had fallen at Drumclog, I had not troubledthee or any of thy kind. "

"Nor had I been minded or allowed to visit thee, John Graham, if Ihad fallen in fair fight, contending for Christ's crown and theliberty of the Scots Kirk, but these wounds upon my head and breastspeak not of war, but of murder. Because thou didst murder Christ'sconfessors, and the souls of the martyrs cry from beneath the altar, Iam come to show thee things which are to be and the doing of Him whosaith, 'I will avenge. ' Ye have often said go, and he goeth, and comeand he cometh, but this nicht ye will come with me, and see thingsthat will shake even thy bold heart. " And so in vision they went. 

Claverhouse was standing in a country kirkyard, and at the hour ofsunset. Round him were ancient graves with stones whose inscriptionshad been worn away by rough weather, and upon which the grass wasgrowing rank. They were the resting-places of past generations whosedescendants had died out, and whose names were forgotten in the landwhere once they may have been mighty people. Before him was aburying-place he knew, for it belonged to his house. There lay hisfather, and there he had laid his mother, the Lady Magdalene Graham, to rest, taken as he often thought from the evil to come. The groundhad been stirred again, and there was another grave. It was of tinysize, not that of a man or woman, but of a child, and one that haddied in its infancy. It was carefully tended, as if the mother stilllived and had not yet forgotten her child. At the sight of itClaverhouse turned to the figure by his side. 

"Ye mean not----"

"Read, " said the Covenanter, "for the writing surely is plain. " Andthis is what Claverhouse saw:

 "JAMES GRAHAME, Only son and child of my Lord Dundie. Aged eight months. "

"Ye longed for him and ye were proud of him, and if the sword of therighteous should slay thee, ye boasted in your heart that there was aman-child to continue your line. But there shall be none, and thineevil house shall die from out the land, like the house of Ahab, theson of Omri, who persecuted the saints. Fathers have seen their sons'heads hung above the West Port to bleach in the sun for the sake ofthe Covenant, and mothers have wept for them who languished in thedungeon of the Bass and wearied for death. This is the cup ye aredrinking this night before the time, for, behold, thou hast harriedmany homes, but thy house shall be left unto thee desolate. "

For a brief space Claverhouse bent his head, for he seemed to feel thechild in his arms, as he had held him before leaving Glenogilvie. Thenhe rallied his manhood, who had never been given to quail before thehardest strokes of fortune. 

"God rest his innocent soul, if this be his lot; but I live and withme my house. "

"Yea, thou livest, " said the shade, "and it has been a stumbling-blockto many that thou wert spared so long, but the day of vengeance is athand. Come again with me. "

Claverhouse finds himself now on a plain with the hills above and ariver beneath and an ancient house close at hand, and he knows thatthis is the battle-field of to-morrow. They are standing together on amound which rises out of a garden, and on the grass the body of a manis lying. A cloth covers his face, but by the uniform and armsClaverhouse knows that it is that of an officer of rank, and one thathas belonged to his own regiment of horse. A dint upon the cuirass andthe sight of the sword by his side catch his eye and he shudders. 

"This--do I see myself?"

"Yes, thou seest thyself lying low as the humblest man and weaker nowthan the poorest of God's people thou didst mock. "

"It is not other than I expected, nor does this make me afraid, and Ijudge thou art a lying spirit, for I see no wound. Lift up the cloth. Nor any mark upon my face. I had not died for nothing. "

"Nay, thou hadst been ready to die in the heat of battle facing thyfoe, for there has ever been in thee a bold heart, but thy wound isnot in front as mine is. See ye, Claverhouse, thou hast been killedfrom behind. " And Claverhouse saw where the blood, escaping from awound near the armpit, had stained the grass. "Aye, some one of thineown and riding near beside thee found that place, and as thou didstraise thine arm to call thy soldiers to the slaughter of them who arecontending for the right, thou wast cunningly stricken unto death. Bya coward's blow thou hast fallen, O valiant man, and there will benone to mourn thy doom, for thou hast been a man of blood from thyyouth up, even unto this day. "

"Thou liest there, and art a false spirit. It may be that yourassassins are in my army, and that I may have the fate of the goodarchbishop whom the saints slew in cold blood and before hisdaughter's eyes. But if I fall I shall be mourned deep and long byone who was of your faith, and had her name in your Covenant, butwhose heart I won like goodly spoil taken from the mighty. If I die bythe sword of my Lady Cochrane's men, her daughter will keep my gravegreen with her tears. If, living, I have been loved by one strongwoman, and after I am dead am mourned by her, I have not lived invain. "

"Sayest thou, " replied the shadowy figure, with triumphant scorn. "That was a pretty catch-word to be repeated over the wine cup at thedrinking of my lady's health. Verily thou didst deceive a daughter ofthe godly, and she was willing to be caught in the snare of thy fairface and soft words. Judge ye whether the child who breaks the bond ofthe Covenant and turns against the mother who bore her, is likely tobe a true wife or a faithful widow. Again will I lift the veil, andthou wilt see with thine own eyes the things which are going to be, for as thou hast shown no mercy, mercy will not be shown to thee. Dostthou remember this place?"

Claverhouse is again within the gallery of Paisley Castle, and he islooking upon a marriage service. Before him are the people of fiveyears ago, except that now young Lord Cochrane is Earl of Dundonald, and is giving away the bride, and my Lady Cochrane is not thereeither to bless or to ban. For a while he cannot see the faces of thebride or bridegroom, nor tell what they are, save that he is asoldier, and she is tall and proud of carriage. 

"My marriage day!" exclaimed Claverhouse, his defiant note softeninginto tenderness, and the underlying sorrow rising into joy. "For thisvision at least I bless thee, spirit, whoever thou mayest be, Brown orany other. That was the day of all my life, and I am ready now or anytime in this world or the other to have it over again and pledge mytroth to my one and only love, to my gallant lady and sweetheart, Jean. "

"Thou wilt not be asked to take thy marriage vow again, Claverhouse, nor would thy presence be acceptable on this day. It is the wedding ofmy Lady Viscountess Dundee, but be not too sure that thou art thebridegroom. She that broke lightly the Covenant with her livingheavenly bridegroom, will have little scruple in breaking the bond toa dead earthly bridegroom. Thy Jean hath found another husband. "

From the faces of the bride and bridegroom the mysterious shadow, which hides the future from the present in mercy to us all, lifted. It was Jean as majestic and as youthful as in the days when he wooedher in the pleasaunce, with her golden hair glittering as before inthe sunshine, and the love-light again in her eye. And beside her, oh!fickleness of a woman's heart, oh! irony of life, oh! cruelty to themost faithful passion, Colonel Livingstone, now my Lord Kilsyth. Andan expression of fierce satisfaction lit up the Covenanter's ghastlyface. 

"This then was thy revenge, Jean, for the insult I offered atGlenogilvie, and I was right in my fear that thy love was shattered. Be it so, " said Claverhouse, "I believe that thou wast loyal while Ilived, and now, while I may have hoped other things of thee, I willnot grudge thee in thy loneliness peace and protection. When thisheart of mine, which ever beat for thee, lies cold in the grave, andmy hair, that thou didst caress, has mingled with the dust, may joy bewith thee, Jean, and God's sunshine ever rest upon thy golden crown. Thou didst think, servant of the devil, to damn my soul in the blackdepths of jealousy and hatred, as once I damned myself, but I haveescaped, and I defy thee. Do as thou pleasest, thou canst not break myspirit or make me bend. Hast thou other visions?"

"One more, " said the spirit, "and I have done with thee, proud andunrepentant sinner. "

Before Claverhouse is a room in which there has been some suddendisaster, for the roof has fallen and buried in its ruins a bedwhereon someone had been sleeping, and a cradle in which some childhad been lying. In the foreground is a coffin covered by a pall. 

"She was called before her judge without warning, prepared orunprepared, and thou hadst better see her for the last time ere shegoes to the place of the dead. " And then the cloth being lifted, Claverhouse looked on the face of his wife, with her infant child, nothis, but Kilsyth's, lying at her feet. There was no abatement in thesplendor of her hair, nor the pride of her countenance; the flush wasstill upon her cheek, and though her eyes were closed there wascourage in the set of her lips. By an unexpected blow she had beenstricken and perished, but in the fullness of her magnificentwomanhood, and undismayed. Lying there she seemed to defy death, andher mother's curse, which had come true at last. 

"So thou also art to be cut off in the midst of thy days, Jean. Betterthis way both for you and me, than to grow old and become feeble, andbe carried to and fro, and be despised. We were born to rule and notto serve, to conquer and not to yield, to persecute if need be, butnot to be persecuted. Kilsyth loved thee, it was not his blame, whowould not? He did his best to please thee. Mayhap it was not much hecould do, but that was not his blame. He was thy husband for awhile, but I am thy man forever. Thou art mine and I am thine, for we are ofthe same creed and temper. I, John Graham of Claverhouse, and notKilsyth, will claim thee on the judgment day, and thou shalt come withme, as the eagle follows her mate; together we shall go to Heaven orto Hell, for we are one. Slain we may be, Jean, but conquered never. We have lived, we have loved, and neither in life or death can anyonemake us afraid. "

Outside the trumpets sounded and Claverhouse awoke, for the visions ofthe night had passed and the light of the morning was pouring into hisroom. 

CHAPTER III

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH

It is written in an ancient book "weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning, " and with the brief darkness of thesummer night passed the shadow from Claverhouse's soul. According, also, to the brightness and freshness of the early sunshine was hishigh hope on the eventful day, which was to decide both the fate ofhis king and of himself. The powers of darkness had attacked him onevery side, appealing to his fear and to his faith, to his love andto his hate, to his pride and to his jealousy, to see whether theycould not shake his constancy and break his spirit. They had failed atevery assault, and he had conquered; he had risen above his ghostlyenemies and above himself, and now, having stood fast againstprincipalities and powers of the other world, he was convincedthat his earthly enemies would be driven before him as chaff beforethe wind. He knew exactly what MacKay and his army could do, andwhat he and his army could, in the place of issue, where, by themercy of God, Who surely was on the side of His anointed, thebattle would be fought. What would avail MacKay's parade-groundtactics and all the lessons of books, and what would avail thedrilling and the manoeuvring of his hired automatons in the pass ofKilliecrankie, with its wooded banks and swift running river, andnarrow gorge and surrounding hills? This was no level plain forwheeling right and wheeling left, for bombarding with artillery andflanking by masses of cavalry. Claverhouse remembers the morning ofthe battle of Seneffe, when he rode with Carleton and longed to be onthe hills with a body of Highlanders, and have the chance of takingby surprise the lumbering army of the Prince of Orange and sweeping itaway by one headlong charge. The day for this onslaught had come, and by an irony, or felicity, of Providence, he has the troops hehad longed for and his rival has the inert and helpless regulars. Newshad come that MacKay was marching with phlegmatic steadiness andperfect confidence into the trap, and going to place himself at thegreatest disadvantage for his kind of army. The Lord was giving theWhigs into his hand, and they would fall before the sun set, as aprey unto his sword. The passion of battle was in his blood, andthe laurels of victory were within his reach. Graham forgot hisbitter disappointments and cowardly friends, the weary journeys andworse anxieties of the past weeks, the cunning cautiousness of thechiefs and their maddening jealousies. Even the pitiable scene atGlenogilvie and his gnawing vain regret faded for the moment fromhis memory and from his heart. If the Lowlands had been cold as deathto the good cause, the Highlands had at last taken fire; if he had notone-tenth the army he should have commanded, had every Highlandershared his loyalty to the ancient line, he had sufficient for theday's work. If he had spoken in vain to the king at Whitehall andmiserably failed to put some spirit into his timid mind, and beenoutvoted at the Convention, and been driven from Edinburgh byCovenanting assassins and hunted like a brigand by MacKay's troops, his day had now come. He was to taste for the first time the gloriouscup of victory. He had not been so glad or confident since hismarriage day, when he snatched his bride from the fastness of hisenemy, and as Grimond helped him to arm, and gave the last touches tohis martial dress, he jested merrily with that solemn servitor, and sang aloud to Grimond's vast dismay, who held the good Scottishfaith that if you be quiet Providence may leave you alone, but if youshow any sign of triumph it will be an irresistible temptation to theunseen powers. 

"I'm judging my lord, that we'll win the day, and that it will be acrownin' victory. I would like fine to see MacKay's army tumble in aregreat heap into the Garry, with their general on the top o' them. I'mexpectin' to see ye ride into Edinburgh at the head o' the clans, andthe Duke o' Gordon come oot frae the castle to greet you, as theking's commander-in-chief, and a' Scotland lyin' at yir mercy. But forony sake be cautious, Maister John, and dinna mak a noise, it's juisttemptin' Providence, an' the Lord forgie me for sayin' it, I never sawa hicht withoot a howe. I'm no wantin' you to be there afore the dayis done. Dinna sing thae rantin' camp songs, and abune a' dinnawhistle till a' things be settled; at ony rate, it's no canny. "

"Was there ever such a solemn face and cautious-spoken fellow livingas you, Jock Grimond, though I've seen you take your glass, and unlessmy ears played me false, sing a song, too, round the camp-fire indays past. But I know the superstition that is in you and all yourbreed of Lowland Scots. Whether ye be Covenanters or Cavaliers, ye areall tarred with the same stick. Do ye really think, Jock, that theAlmighty sits watching us, like a poor, jealous, cankered Whigminister, and if a bit of good fortune comes our way and our heartsare lifted, that He's ready to strike for pure bad temper? But there'sno use arguing with you, for you're set in your own opinions. But I'lltell you what to do--sing the dreariest Psalm ye can find to thelongest Cameronian tune. That will keep things right, and ward offjudgment, for the blood in my veins is dancing, Jock, and the day ofmy life has come. "

Claverhouse went out from his room to confer with the chiefs and hisofficers about the plan of operation, "like a bridegroom coming out ofhis chamber and rejoicing as a strong man to run a race. " Grimond, ashe watched him go, shook his head and said to himself, "The last timeI heard a Covenanting tune was at Drumclog, and it's no a cheerfu'remembrance. May God preserve him, for in John Graham is all our hopeand a' my love. "

Through the morning of the decisive day the omens continuedfavorable, and the sun still shone on Claverhouse's heart. As a rule, a war council of Highland chiefs was a babel and a battle, when theirjealous pride and traditional rivalry rose to fever height. They wereoften more anxious to settle standing quarrels with one another thanto join issue with the enemy; they would not draw a sword if theirpride had in any way been touched, and battles were lost because aclan had been offended. Jacobite councils were also cursed by theself-seeking and insubordination of officers, who were not under theiron discipline of a regular army, and owing to the absence of thecentral authorities, with a king beyond the water, were apt to fightfor their own hand. Dundee had known trouble, and had in his dayrequired more self-restraint than nature had given him, and if therehad been division among the chiefs that day, he would have fallen intodespair; but he had never seen such harmony. They were of one mindthat there could not be a ground more favorable than Killiecrankie, and that they should offer battle to MacKay before the day closed. They approved of the line of march which Dundee had laid out, and thechiefs, wonderful to say, raised no objection to the arrangement ofthe clans in the fighting line, even although the MacDonalds wereplaced on the left, which was not a situation that proud clan greatlyfancied. The morning was still young when the Jacobite army left theircamping ground in the valley north of Blair Castle, and, climbing thehillside, passed Lude, till they reached a ridge which ran down fromthe high country on their left to the narrow pass through which theGarry ran. Along this rising ground, with a plateau of open groundbefore them, fringed with wood, Dundee drew up his army, while belowMacKay arranged his troops, whom he had hastily extricated from thedangerous and helpless confinement of the pass. During the day theyfaced one another, the Jacobites on their high ground, William'stroops on the level ground below--two characteristic armies ofHighlanders and Lowlanders, met to settle a quarrel older than Jamesand William, and which would last, under different conditions andother names, centuries after the grass had grown on the battle-fieldof Killiecrankie and Dundee been laid to his last rest in the ancientkirkyard of Blair. Had Dundee considered only his own impetuousfeelings, and given effect to the fire that was burning him, he wouldhave instantly launched his force at MacKay. He was, however, determined that day, keen though he was, to run no needless risks norto give any advantage to the enemy. The Highlanders were like houndsheld in the leash, and it was a question of time when they must be letgo. He would keep them if he could, till the sun had begun to set andits light was behind them and on the face of MacKay's army. 

During this period the messenger came back with an answer to thedespatch which Dundee had sent to MacKay the night before. He hadfound William's general at Pitlochry, as he was approaching the passof Killiecrankie, and, not without difficulty and some danger, hadpresented his letter. 

"This man, sir, surrendered himself late last night to my LordBelhaven, who was bivouacking in the pass which is ahead, " said anEnglish aide-de-camp to General MacKay, "and his lordship, from what Iam told, was doubtful whether he should not have shot him as a spy, but seeing he had some kind of letter addressed to you, sir, he senthim on under guard. It may be that it contains terms of surrender, andat any rate it will, I take it, be your desire that the man be kept aprisoner. "

"You may take my word for it, Major Lovel, " said young Cameron ofLochiel, who, according to the curious confusion of that day, was withMacKay, while his father was with Dundee, "and my oath also, if thatadds anything to my word, that whatever be in the letter, there willbe no word of surrender. Lord Dundee will fight as sure as we areliving men, and I only pray we may not be the losers. Ye be not wiseto laugh, " added he hotly, "and ye would not if ye had ever seen theCameron's charge. "

"Peace, gentlemen, we are not here to quarrel with one another, " saidGeneral MacKay. "Hand me the letter, and do the messenger no ill tillwe see its contents. "

As he read his cheek flushed for a moment, and he made an impatientgesture with his hand, as one repudiating the shameful accusation, andthen he spoke with his usual composure. 

"You are right, " he said, addressing Cameron, who was on his staff, "in thinking that Lord Dundee is ready for the fight. I had expectednothing else from him, for I knew him of old, the bigotry of hisprinciples, and the courage of his heart. We could never be else thanfoes, but I wish to say, whatever happens before the day is done, thatI count him a brave and honorable gentleman, as it pleases me to knowhe counts me also. 

"This letter"--and MacKay threw it with irritation on the table of theroom in which he had taken his morning meal, "is from Dundeeexplaining that two English officers have been arrested, who wereserving as privates in his cavalry, and who are suspected of beingsent by us to assassinate him. If no answer is sent back they will behung at once, but if the charge is denied, they will be released, which, I take it, gentlemen, is merciful and generous conduct. 

"I will write a letter with my own hand and clear our honor from thisfoul slander. Spying is allowed in war, though I have never liked it, and the spy need deserve no mercy, but assassination is unworthy ofany soldier, and a work of the devil, of which I humbly trust I amincapable, and also my king. Give this letter"--when he had writtenand sealed it--"to the messenger, Major Lovel, and see that he has asafe conduct through our army, and past our outposts. " Lovel salutedand left the room, but outside he laughed, and said to himself, "Verylikely it's true all the same, and a quick and useful way of endingthe war. When Claverhouse dies the rebellion dies, too, and there's atext somewhere which runs like this, 'It is expedient that one manshould die than all the people. ' I wonder who those fellows are, andif they'll manage it, and what they're going to get. They have thedevil's luck in this affair, for, of course, MacKay would be toldnothing about it; he's the piousest officer in the English army. "

Dundee received MacKay's letter during the long wait before thebattle, and this is what he read:

 _To My Lord Viscount Dundee, Commanding the forces raised in the interest of James Stuart. _

 MY LORD: It gives me satisfaction that altho' words once passed between us, and there be a far greater difference to-day, you have not believed that I was art and part in so base a work as assassination, and I hereby on my word of honor as an officer, and as a Christian, declare that I know nothing of the two men who are under arrest in your camp. So far as I am concerned their blood should not be shed, nor any evil befall them. 

 Before this letter reaches your hand we shall be arrayed against one another in order of battle, and though arms be my profession, I am filled with sorrow as I think that the conflict to-day will be between men of the same nation, and sometimes of the same family, for it seemeth to me as if brother will be slaying brother. 

 I fear that it is too late to avert battle and I have no authority to offer any terms of settlement to you and those that are with you. Unto God belongs the issue, and in His hands I leave it. We are divided by faith, and now also by loyalty, but if any evil befel your person I pray you to believe that it would give me no satisfaction, and I beg that ye be not angry with me nor regard me with contempt if I send you as I now do the prayer which, as a believer in our common Lord I have drawn up for the use of our army. It may be the last communication that shall pass between us. 

 I have the honor to be, Your very obedient servant, HUGH MACKAY. Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty's Forces. 

And this was the prayer, surely the most remarkable ever published bya general of the British army:

 O Almighty King of Kings, and Lord of Hosts, which by Thy Angels thereunto appointed, dost minister both War and Peace; Thou rulest and commandest all things, and sittest in the throne judging right; And, therefore, we make our Addresses to Thy Divine Majesty in this our necessity, that Thou wouldst take us and our Cause into Thine Own hand and judge between us and our Enemies. Stir up Thy strength, O Lord, and come and help us, for Thou givest not always the Battle to the strong, but canst save by Many or Few. O let not our sins now cry against us for vengeance, but hear us Thy poor servants, begging mercy, and imploring Thy help, and that Thou wouldst be a defence for us against the Enemy. Make it appear, that Thou art our Saviour, and Mighty Deliverer, through Jesus Christ Our Lord. Amen. 

Dundee ordered the English officers to be brought before him, and forthirty seconds he looked at them without speaking, as if he weresearching their thoughts and estimating their character. During thisscrutiny the shorter man looked sullen and defiant, as one preparedfor the worst, but the other was as careless and gay as ever, with theexpression either of one who was sure of a favorable issue, or of onewho took life or death as a part of the game. 

"If I tell you, gentlemen, that your general refuses to clear you fromthis charge, have ye anything to say before ye die?"

"Nothing, " said their spokesman, with a light laugh, "except that wewould take more kindly to a bullet than a rope. 'Tis a soldier'sfancy, my lord, but I fear me ye will not humor it; perhaps ye willeven say we have not deserved it. "

When Dundee turned to the other, who had not yet spoken, this was allhe got:

"My lord, that it be quickly, and that no mention be made of ournames. It was an adventure, and it has ended badly. "

"Gentlemen, whoever ye may be, and that I do not know, and whatever yemay be about, and of that also I am not sure, I have watched youclosely, and I freely grant that ye are both brave men. Each in hisown way, and each to be trusted by his own cause, though there be oneof you I would trust rather than the other. 

"I have this further to say, that General MacKay declares that, so faras he knows, ye are innocent of the foul crime of which we suspectedyou. I might still keep you in arrest, and it were perhaps wiser to doso; but I have myself suffered greatly through mistrusting those whowere true and honorable, and I would not wish to let the shadow ofdisgrace lie upon you, if indeed ye be honest Cavaliers. You have yourliberty, gentlemen, to return to your troop, and if there be anygratitude in you for this deliverance from death, ride in the frontand strike hard to-day for our king and the ancient Scottish glory. "

"Thank you, my lord, but I expected nothing else. I give you our wordthat we shall not fail in our duty, " said the taller soldier, with alight-hearted laugh. But the other grew dark red in the face, as if astrong passion were stirring within him. "My lord, " he said, "I wouldrather remain as I am till the battle be over, and then that ye giveme leave to depart from the army. "

Dundee glanced keenly at him, as one weighing his words, and trying tofathom their meaning, but the taller man broke in with boisteroushaste:

"Pardon my comrade, general, we Englishmen have proud stomachs, and yehave offended his honor by your charges, but to-day's fighting will bethe best medicine. " And then he hurried his friend away, and as theyleft to join their troop he seemed to be remonstrating with him forhis touchy scruples. 

"What ye may think of those two gentlemen I know not, my lord, " saidLochiel, who had been standing by, "but I count the dark man the truerof the two. I like not the other, though I grant they both be brave. He is fair and false, if I am not out in my judgment, with a smoothword and a tricky dirk, like the Campbells. God grant ye be notover-generous, and trustful unto blindness. "

"Lochiel, I have trusted, as ye know, many men who have betrayed ourcause; I have distrusted one who was faithful at a cost to me. On thisday, maybe the last of my life, I will believe rather than doubt, inthe hope that faith will be the surest bond of honor. There issomething, I know not what, in that tall fellow I did not like. Butwhat I have done, I have done, and if I have erred, Lochiel, thepunishment will be on my own head. "

"On many other heads, too, I judge, " muttered Lochiel to himself, andfor an instant he thought of taking private measures to hinder the twoEnglishmen from service that day, but considering that he would haveenough to do with his own work, he went to prepare his clan for thehour that was near at hand. 

Dundee dismissed his staff for the time on various duties, andattended only by Grimond, sat down upon a knoll, from which he couldsee the whole plateau of Urrard--the drawn-out line of his own armybeneath him, and the corresponding formation of the English troops inthe distance. He read MacKay's prayer slowly and reverently, and then, letting the paper fall upon the grass, Dundee fell into a reverie. There was a day when he would have treated the prayer lightly, notbecause he had ever been a profane man, like Esau, but because he hadno relish for soldiers who acted as chaplains. 

To-day, with the lists of battle before his eyes, and the ordeal oflast night still fresh in his experience, and his inexcusable crueltyto Jean, his heart was weighed with a sense of the tragedy of life andthe tears of things. He was going to fight unto death for his king, but he was haunted by the conviction that William was a wiser andbetter monarch. MacKay and he were to cross swords, as before they hadcrossed words, and would ever cross principles, but he could not helpconfessing to himself that MacKay, in the service of the Prince ofOrange, had for years been doing a more soldierly part than his, inhunting to the death Covenanting peasants. His Highlanders below, hungering for the joy of battle and the gathering of spoil, were braveand faithful, but they were little more than savages, and woe betidethe land that lay beneath their sword; while the troops on the otherside represented the forces of order and civilization, and though theymight be routed that evening, they held the promise of final victory. Was it worth the doing, and something of which afterwards a man couldbe proud, to restore King James to Whitehall, and place Scotland againin the hands of the gang of cowards and evil livers, thieves and liarswho had misgoverned it and shamefully treated himself? What a confusedand tangled web life was, and who had eyes to decipher its pattern? Hewould live and die for the Stuarts, as Montrose had done before him;he could not take service under William, nor be partner with theCovenanters. He could do none otherwise, and yet, what a Scotland itwould be under James, and what a miserable business for him to returnto the hunt of the Covenanters!

The buoyancy of the morning had passed, and now his thoughts took adarker turn. MacKay, no doubt, had told the truth, for he was notcapable of falsehood, but if those Englishmen were not agents of theEnglish government, did it follow that they were clear of suspicion?There was some mystery about them, for if indeed they had beenCavalier gentlemen who had abandoned the English service, would theybe so anxious to conceal themselves? Why should they refuse to lettheir names be known? They had come from Livingstone's regiment. Wasit possible that they had been sent by him, and if so, for what end?It is the penalty of once yielding to distrust that a person fallsinto the habit of suspicion, and the latent jealousy of Livingstonebegan to work like poison in Dundee's blood. Jean was innocent, hewould stake his life on that, but Livingstone--who knew whether theattraction of those interviews was Dundee's cause or Dundee's wife? IfLivingstone had been in earnest, he had been with King James's menthat day; but he might be earnest enough in love, though haltingenough in loyalty. If her husband fell, he would have the freercourse in wooing the wife. What if he had arranged the assassination, and not William's government; what if Jean, outraged by thatreflection upon her honor and infuriated by wounded pride, hadconsented to this revenge? Her house had never been scrupulous, andlove changed to hate by an insult such as he had offered might besatisfied with nothing less than blood. Stung by this venomousthought, Dundee sprang to his feet, and looking at the westering sun, cried to Grimond, who had been watching him with unobtrusive sympathy, as if he read his thoughts, "Jock, the time for thinking is over, thetime for doing has come. "

He rode along the line and gave his last directions to the army. Riding from right to left, he placed himself at the head of thecavalry, and gave the order to charge. That wild rush of Highlanders, which swept before it, across the plain of Urrard, the thin andpanic-stricken line of regular troops, was not a battle. It was anonslaught, a flight, a massacre, as when the rain breaks upon aHighland mountain, and the river in the glen beneath, swollen with themountain water, dashes to the lowlands with irresistible devastation. Grimond placed himself close behind his master for the charge, anddetermined that if there was treachery in the ranks, the bullet thatwas meant for Dundee must pass through him. But the battle advance ofcavalry is confused and tumultuous, as horses and men roll in thedust, and eager riders push ahead of their fellows, and no man knowswhat he is doing, except that the foe is in front of him. They werepassing at a gallop across the ground above Urrard House, whenGrimond, who was now a little in the rear of his commander, saw himlift his right arm in the air and wave his sword, and heard him cry, "King James and the crown of Scotland!" At that instant he fellforward upon his horse's mane, as one who had received a mortal wound, and the horse galloped off towards the right, with its master helplessupon it. Through the dust of battle, and looking between two trooperswho intervened, Grimond saw the fair-haired Englishman lowering thepistol and thrusting it into his holster, with which he had shotDundee through the armpit, as he gave his last command. Onward theywere carried, till one of the troopers on his right fell and the otherwent ahead, and there was clear course between Grimond and theEnglishman. They were now, both of them, detached from the main body, and the Englishman was planning to fall aside and escape unnoticedfrom the field. His comrade could not be seen, and evidently had takenno part in the deed. Grimond was upon him ere he knew, and before hecould turn and parry the stroke, Jock's sword was in him, and he fellmortally wounded from his horse. Keen as Grimond was to follow hismaster, and find him where he must be lying ahead, he was still moreanxious to get the truth at last out of the dying man. He knelt downand lifted up his head. 

"It is over with ye now, and thou hast done thy hellish deed. I wishto God I'd killed thee before; but say before thou goest who was thymaster--was it Livingstone? Quick, man, tell the truth, it may servethee in the other world, and make hell cooler. "

"Livingstone, " replied the Englishman with his dying breath, and alook of almost boyish triumph on his face, "what had I to do with him?It was from my Lord Nottingham, his Majesty's secretary of state, Itook my orders, and I have fulfilled them. Did I not lie bravely anddo what I had to do thoroughly? Thou cunning rascal, save for thee Ihad also escaped. You may take my purse, for thou art a faithfulservant. My hand struck the final blow. " Now, his breath was goingfast from him, and with a last effort, as Grimond dropped his headwith a curse, he cried, "You have--won--the battle. Your causeis--lost. "

Amid the confusion the cavalry had not noticed the fall of theircommander, and Grimond found his master lying near a mound, a littleabove the house of Urrard. He was faint through loss of blood, andevidently was wounded unto death, but he recognized his faithfulfollower, and thanked him with his eyes, as Jock wiped the blood fromhis lips--for he was wounded through the lungs--and gave him brandy torestore his strength. 

"Ye cannot staunch that wound, Jock, and this is my last fight. Howgoes it--is it well?"

"Well for the king, my lord--the battle is won; but ill for thee, mydear maister. "

"If it be well for the king, it's well for me, Jock, but I wish to Godmy wound had been in front. That fair-haired fellow, I take it, didthe deed. Ye killed him, did ye, Jock? Well, he deserved it, but Ifain would know who was behind him before I die. If it were he whom Isuspect, Jock, I could not rest in my grave. "

"Rest easy, Maister John, I wrung the truth frae his deein' lips. Itwas Lord Nottingham, the English minister, wha feed him, theblack-hearted devil. Livingstone had naethin' to do wi' the maitter, far less onybody--ye luved. "

"Thank God, and you too, Jock, my faithful friend. .. . Tell Lady Dundeethat my last thoughts were with her, and my last breath repeated hername. .. . For the rest, I have done what I could, according to myconscience. .. . May the Lord have mercy on my sins. .. . God save theKing!"

So, after much strife and many sorrows, Claverhouse fell in the momentof victory, and passed to his account. 

THE END

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Transcriber's Note:

 Illustrations have been moved closer to their relevant paragraphs. 

 Author's archaic and variable spelling and hyphenation is preserved. 

 Author's punctuation style is preserved. 

 Passages in italics indicated by _underscores_. 

 Passages in bold indicated by =equal signs=. 

 Typographical problems have been changed and are listed below. 

Transcriber's Changes:

 Frontispiece caption: Was 'Page 265' (Lady Dundee lifted up the child for him to kiss. =Pages 261-2=. )

 Page 143, illustration caption: Was '145' ("Ye will have to answer to man and God for this. " Page =143=. )

 Page 158: Was 'hundrel' (belly, and taken him to Edinburgh with a =hundred= of his Majesty's Horse before him and a hundred behind to keep him safe; ye)

 Page 166, illustration caption: Was '168' (She could not speak nor move, but only looked at him. Page =166=. )

 Page 226: Was 'Mackay' (more than when hounds run a fox to his lair. =MacKay= would be arranging how to trap him, anticipating his ways of escape, and stopping)

 Page 299: Was 'brown' (joy. "For this vision at least I bless thee, spirit, whoever thou mayest be, =Brown= or any other. That was the day of all my life, )

 Page 318: Was 'perpare' (enough to do with his own work, he went to =prepare= his clan for the hour that was near at hand. )