GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE
 
 GRAHAM OF 
 CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 BY IAN MACLAREN 
 
 AUTHOR OF "BESIDE THE BONNIE BRIER 
 BUSH," ETC., ETC. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. 
 
 1908
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1907, IN THE 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
 
 STACK ANNE* 
 
 PR 
 
 5742 
 
 G7 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. BY THE CAMP-FIRE 1 
 
 II. THE BATTLE OF SENEFFE . . . .22 
 
 HI. A DECISIVE BLOW . . . . .45 
 
 IV. A CHANGE OF MASTERS . . . .65 
 
 BOOK II 
 
 I. A COVENANTING HOUSE . . . .87 
 
 II. THE COMING OF THE AMALEKITE . . .110 
 
 III. BETWEEN MOTHER AND LOVER . . .131 
 
 IV. " THY PEOPLE SHALL BE MY PEOPLE, THY GOD 
 
 MY GOD" ...... 154 
 
 BOOK III 
 
 I. ONE FEARLESS MAN ..... 176 
 II. THE CRISIS . . . .198 
 
 2138817
 
 vi CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 III. THE LAST BLOW ...... 222 
 
 IV. THOU ALSO FALSE ..... 245 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 I. TREASON IN THE CAMP .... 272 
 
 II. VISIONS OF THE NIGHT 295 
 
 HI. FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH . 316
 
 GRAHAM OF 
 CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 BOOK I 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 BY THE CAMP-FIRE 
 
 THAT afternoon a strange thing had hap- 
 pened to the camp of the Prince of Orange, 
 which was pitched near Nivelle in Brabant, 
 for the Prince was then challenging Conde', 
 who stuck behind his trenches at Charleroi 
 and would not come out to fight. A dusty- 
 coloured cloud came racing along the sky 
 so swiftly yet there was no wind to be 
 felt that it was above the camp almost as 
 soon as it was seen. When the fringes of 
 the cloud encompassed the place, there 
 burst forth as from its belly a whirlwind, and 
 wrought sudden devastation in a fashion 
 none had ever seen before or could after- 
 
 1
 
 2 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 wards forget. With one long and fierce 
 gust it tore up trees by the roots, unroofed 
 the barns where the Prince's headquarters 
 were, sucked up tents into the air, and 
 carried soldiers' caps in flocks, as if they 
 were flocks of rooks. This commotion went 
 on for half an hour, then ceased as instantly 
 as it began ; there was calm again and the 
 evening ended in peace, while the cloud of 
 fury went on its way into the west, and 
 afterwards we heard that a very grand and 
 strong church at Utrecht had suffered 
 greatly. As the camp was in vast disorder, 
 both officers and men bivouacked in the 
 open that 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 the comfort of their heat. Round 
 one fire a group of English gentlemen had 
 gathered, who had joined the Prince's forces, 
 partly because, like other men of their 
 breed, they had an insatiable love of fight- 
 ing, and partly to push their fortunes, for 
 Englishmen in those days, and still more 
 Scotsmen, were willing to serve on any side 
 where the pay and the risks together were 
 certain, and under any commander who was 
 a man of his head and hands. Europe
 
 BY THE CAMP-FIRE 3 
 
 swarmed with soldiers of fortune from Great 
 Britain, hard bitten and fearless men, some 
 of whom fell far from home, and were buried 
 in unknown graves, others of whom returned 
 to take their share in any fighting that 
 turned up in their own country. So it 
 came to pass that many of our Islanders 
 had fought impartially with equal courage 
 and interest for the French and against 
 them, like those two Scots who met for 
 the first time at the camp-fire that night, 
 and whose fortunes were to the end of the 
 chapter to be so curiously intertwined. 
 There was Collier, who afterwards became 
 My Lord Patmore ; Rooke, who rose to be 
 a major-general in the English army ; Hales, 
 for many years Governor of Chelsea Hos- 
 pital ; Venner, the son of one of Cromwell's 
 soldiers who had strange notions about a 
 fifth monarchy which was to be held by 
 our Lord himself, but who was a good fight- 
 ing man ; and some others who came to 
 nothing and left no mark. Two young Scot? 
 gentlemen were among the Englishmen, 
 who were to have a share in making history 
 in their own country, and both to die as 
 generals upon the battle-field, the death they 
 chiefly loved. Both men were to suffer
 
 4 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 more than falls to the ordinary lot, and the 
 life of one, some part of whose story is here 
 to be told, was nothing else but tragedy. 
 For the gods had bestowed upon him quick 
 gifts of mind and matchless beauty of face, 
 and yet he was to be hated by his nation, 
 till his name has become a byword, and to 
 be betrayed by his own 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 blood is different and 
 partly because the one race has lived in the 
 open and fertile Lowlands, and the other 
 in the wild and shadowy Highlands, the 
 Celt of the north and the Scot of the south 
 are well-nigh as distant from each other 
 as the east from the west. But among the 
 Celts there were two kinds in that time, 
 and even unto this day the distinction can 
 be found by those who look for it. There 
 was the eager and fiery Celt who was guided 
 by his passions rather than by prudence, 
 who struck first and reasoned afterwards, 
 who was the victim of varying moods and 
 the child of hopeless causes. He was usually 
 a Catholic in faith, so far as he had any 
 religion, and devoted to the Stuart dynasty,
 
 BY THE CAMP-FIRE 5 
 
 so far as he had any policy apart from his 
 chief. There was also another sort of Celt, 
 who was quiet and self-contained, determined 
 and persevering. Men of this type were 
 usually Protestant in their faith, and when 
 the day of choice came they threw in their 
 lot with Hanover against Stuart. Hugh 
 MacKay was the younger son of an ancient 
 Highland house of large possessions and 
 much influence in the distant North of Scot- 
 land ; his people were suspicious of the 
 Stuarts because the kings of that ill-fated 
 line were intoxicated with the idea of divine 
 right, and were ever clutching at absolute 
 power ; nor had the MacKays any over- 
 whelming and reverential love for bishops, 
 because they considered them to be the in- 
 struments of royal tyranny and the op- 
 pressors of the kirk. MacKay has found 
 a place between Collier and Venner, and as 
 he sits leaning back against a saddle and 
 to all appearance half asleep, the firelight 
 falls on his broad, powerful, but rather awk- 
 ward 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 his own thoughts, if anything
 
 6 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 is said which arrests him, he will cast a 
 quick look on the speaker, and then one 
 marks that his eyes are steely grey, cold and 
 penetrating, but also brave and honest. By- 
 and-by he rouses himself, and taking a book 
 out of an inner pocket, and leaning sideways 
 towards the fire, he begins to read, and se- 
 cludes himself from the camp talk. Venner 
 notices that it is a Bible, and opens his 
 mouth to ask him whether he can give him 
 the latest news about the fifth monarchy 
 which made a windmill in his poor father's 
 head, but, catching sight of MacKay's grim 
 profile, thinks better and only shrugs his 
 shoulders. For MacKay was not a man 
 whose face or manner invited jesting. 
 
 Upon the other side of the fire, so that 
 the two men could only catch occasional 
 and uncertain glimpses of each other through 
 the smoke, as was to be their lot in after 
 days, lay the other Scot in careless grace, 
 supporting his head upon his hand, quite 
 at his ease and in good fellowship with all 
 his comrades. If MacKay marked a contrast 
 to the characteristic Celt of hot blood and 
 wayward impulses, by his reserve and self- 
 control, John Graham was quite unlike the 
 average Lowlander by the spirit of feudal
 
 BY THE CAMP-FIRE 7 
 
 prejudice and romantic sentiment, of un- 
 calculating devotion and loyalty to dead 
 ideals, which burned within his heart, and 
 were to drive him headlong on his troubled 
 and disastrous career. A kinsman of the 
 great Montrose and born of a line which 
 traced its origin to Scottish kings, the child 
 of a line of fighting cavaliers, he loathed 
 Presbyterians, their faith and their habits 
 together, counting them fanatics by inherent 
 disposition and traitors whenever opportunity 
 offered. He was devoted to the Episcopal 
 Church of Scotland, and regarded a bishop 
 with reverence for the sake of his office, 
 and he was ready to die, as the Marquis 
 of Montrose had done before him, for the 
 Stuart line and their rightful place. One 
 can see as he stretches himself, raising his 
 arms above his head with a taking gesture, 
 that he is not more than middle size and 
 slightly built, though lithe and sinewy as 
 a young tiger, but what catches one'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 to boot, 
 and this girl face he was to keep through 
 all the days of strife and pain, and also 
 fierce deeds, till they carried him dead from
 
 8 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 Killiecrankie field. It was a full, rich face, 
 with fine complexion somewhat browned 
 by campaign life, with large, expressive 
 eyes of hazel hue, whose expression could 
 change with rapidity from love to hate, 
 which could be very gentle in a woman's 
 wooing, or very hard when dealing with a 
 Covenanting rebel, but which in repose were 
 apt to be sad and hopeless. The lips are 
 rich and flexible, the nose strong and straight, 
 the eyebrows high and well arched, and the 
 mouth, with the short upper lip, is both 
 tender and strong. His abundant and rich 
 brown hair he wears in long curls falling 
 over his shoulders, as did the cavaliers, and 
 he is dressed with great care in the height 
 of military fashion, evidently a gallant and 
 debonair gentleman. He has just ceased 
 from badinage with Rooke, in which that 
 honest soldier's somewhat homely army jokes 
 have been worsted by the graceful play of 
 Graham's wit, who was ever gay, but never 
 coarse, w r ho was no ascetic, and was ever 
 willing to drink the King's health, but, as 
 his worst enemies used grudgingly to admit, 
 cared neither for wine nor women. Silence 
 falls for a little on the company. Claver- 
 house, looking into the fire and seeing things
 
 BY THE CAMP-FIRE 9 
 
 of long ago and far away, hums a Royalist 
 ballad to the honour of King Charles, and the 
 confounding of crop-eared Puritans. Among 
 the company was that honest gentleman, 
 Captain George Carleton, who was after- 
 wards to tell many entertaining anecdotes 
 of the War in Spain under that brilliant 
 commander Lord Peterborough. And as 
 Carleton, who was ever in thirst for adven- 
 tures, had been serving with the fleet, and had 
 only left it because he thought there might 
 be more doing now in other quarters, Venner 
 demanded whether he had seen anything 
 whose telling would make the time pass 
 more gaily by the fire, for as that liberated 
 Puritan said : " My good comrade on the 
 right is engaged at his devotions, and I 
 also would be reading a Bible if I had one, 
 but my worthy father studied the Good 
 Book so much that men judged it had driven 
 him crazy, and I having few wits to lose 
 have been afraid to open it ever since. As 
 for Mr. Graham, if I catch the air he is 
 singing, it is a song of the Malignants against 
 which as a Psalm-singing Puritan I lift my 
 testimony. So a toothsome story of the 
 sea, if it please you, Mr. Carleton." 
 
 " Apart from the fighting, gentlemen,"
 
 10 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 began Carleton, who was a man of careful 
 speech and stiff mind " for I judge you do 
 not hanker after battle-tales, seeing we shall 
 have our stomach full ere many days be 
 past, if the Prince can entice Cond into the 
 open there were not many things worth 
 telling. But this was a remarkable occur- 
 rence, the like of which I will dare say none 
 of you have seen, though I know there are 
 men here who have been in battle once and 
 again. Upon the Catherine there was a 
 gentleman volunteer, a man of family and 
 fine estate, by the name of Hodge Vaughan. 
 Early in the fight, when the Earl of Sandwich 
 was our admiral and Van Ghent commanded 
 the Dutch, Vaughan received a considerable 
 wound, and was carried down into the hold. 
 Well, it happened that they had some hogs 
 aboard and, the worse for poor Hodge 
 Vaughan, the sailor who had charge of 
 them, like any other proper Englishman, 
 was fonder of fighting than of feeding pigs, 
 and so left them to forage for themselves. 
 As they could get nothing else, and liked a 
 change in their victuals when it came with- 
 in their reach, they made their meal off 
 Vaughan, and when the fight was over there 
 was nothing left of that poor gentleman
 
 BY THE CAMP-FIRE 11 
 
 except his skull, which was monstrous thick 
 and bade defiance to the hogs. This is not 
 a common happening," continued Carleton 
 with much composure, " and I thank my 
 Maker I was not carried into that hold to 
 be a hog's dinner. Yet I give you my word 
 of honour 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 the mouth, for there be enough 
 of hogs on the land as well as on sea, and 
 some of them go round the field, where men 
 are lying helpless, on two legs and not on 
 four, from whom heaven defend us." 
 
 " Since you ask for more," replied Carleton, 
 " a thing took place about which there was 
 much talk, and on it 1 should like to have 
 your judgment. Upon the same ship with 
 myself, there was a gentleman volunteer, 
 and he came with the name of a skilful 
 swordsman. He had been in many duels 
 and thought no more of standing face to 
 face with another 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 on the deck and would 
 have given no heed to danger. Yet the
 
 12 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 moment the bullets whizzed he ran into the 
 hold, and for all his land mettle he was a. 
 coward on the sea. When every one laughed 
 at him and he was becoming a thing of 
 scorn, he asked to be tied to the mainmast, 
 so that he might not be able to escape. So 
 it comes into my mind," concluded Carleton,. 
 " to ask this question of you gallant gentle- 
 men, Is courage what Sir Walter Raleigh 
 calls it, if I mind me rightly, the art of the 
 philosophy of quarrel, or must it not be the 
 issue of principle and rest upon a steady 
 basis of religion ? I should like to ask those 
 artists in murder, meaning no offence to 
 any gentleman present who may have been 
 out in a duel, to tell me this, why one who 
 has run so many risks at his sword's point 
 should be turned into a coward 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. Carleton well called it, there 
 is land mettle, and that good swordsman 
 was not afraid when his feet were on the 
 solid ground ; then there is sea mettle and 
 faith, he had not much of that, a trifle too
 
 BY THE CAMP-FIRE 13 
 
 little, I grant you, for a gentleman. So it 
 is in measure with us all. I never saw the 
 horse I would not mount or the wall within 
 reason I would not take, but I cannot put 
 my foot in a little boat and feel it rising on 
 the sea without a tremble at the heart. 
 That is how I read the riddle." 
 
 " What I hold," burst in Collier, " is that 
 everything depends on a man's blood. If 
 it be pure and he has come of a good stock, 
 he cannot play the coward any more than 
 a lion can stalk like a fox. Land or sea, 
 whatever tremble be at the heart he faces 
 his danger as a gentleman should, though 
 there be certain kinds of danger, as has been 
 said, which are worse for some men than 
 others. But I take it your gentleman volun- 
 teer, 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 your presence, 
 you are talking nonsense, and I will prove 
 it to you from days that are not long passed. 
 When it came to righting in the days of our 
 fathers, I say not that the lads who followed 
 Rupert were not gallant gentlemen and 
 hardy blades, but unless my poor memory 
 has been carried off by that infernal whirl-
 
 14 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 wind, I think Old Noll's Ironsides held their 
 own pretty well. And who were they but 
 blacksmiths and farmer men, from Essex 
 and the eastern counties ! There does not 
 seem to me much difference between the 
 man from the castle and the man behind 
 the plough when their blood is up and they 
 have a sword in their hands." 
 
 " I am under obligation to you all for dis- 
 cussing my humble question, but I see that 
 we have two Scots gentlemen with us, and 
 I would crave their opinion. For all men 
 know that the Scots soldier has gone every- 
 where sword in hand, and whether he was 
 in the body-guard of the King of France, or 
 doing his duty for the Lion of the North, 
 has never turned his back to the foe. And 
 I am the more moved to ask an answer for 
 the settlement of my mind, because, as I 
 have ever understood, the Scots more than 
 our people are accustomed to go into the 
 reason of things, and to argue about prin- 
 ciples. It is not always that the strong 
 sword-arm goes with a clear head, and I am 
 waiting to hear what two gallant Scots 
 soldiers will say." And the Englishman 
 paid his tribute of courtesy first across the 
 fire to Claverhouse, who responded grace-
 
 BY THE CAMP-FIRE 15 
 
 fully with a pleasant smile that showed 
 his white, even teeth beneath his slight 
 moustache, and then to MacKay, who leaned 
 forward and bowed stiffly. 
 
 " We are vastly indebted. to Mr. Carleton 
 for his good opinion of our nation," said 
 Claverhouse, after a slight pause to see 
 whether MacKay would not answer, and in 
 gentle, almost caressing tones, " but I fear 
 me his charity flatters us. Certainly no 
 man can deny that Scotland is ever 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 left 
 ploughing fields and herding sheep instead 
 of meddling with matters too high for them. 
 At least such is my humble mind, but I am 
 only a gentleman private of the Prince's 
 guard, and there is opposite me a commis- 
 sioned officer of his army. It is becoming 
 that Captain Hugh MacKay, who many 
 will say has a better right to speak for 
 Scotland than a member of my house, and 
 who has just been getting counsel from the 
 highest, as 1 take it, should give his judg- 
 ment on this curious point of bravery or 
 cowardice." 
 
 Although Graham's manner was perfectly
 
 16 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 civil and his accents almost silken, Vernier 
 glanced keenly from one Scot to the other, 
 and every one felt that the atmosphere had 
 grown more intense, and that there was 
 latent antipathy between the two men. 
 And even Rooke, a blunt and matter-of-fact 
 Englishman, who, having said his say, had 
 been smoking diligently, turned round to 
 listen to MacKay, who had never said a 
 word through all the talk of the evening. 
 
 " Mr. Carleton and gentlemen volunteers," 
 MacKay began, with grave formality, " I 
 had not intended to break in upon your con- 
 versation, which I found very instructive, 
 but as Claverhouse " (and it was charac- 
 teristic of his nation that MacKay should 
 call Graham by the name of his estate) " has 
 asked me straightly to speak, I would first 
 apologise for my presence in this company. 
 I do not belong, as you know, to the Prince's 
 guard, and it is true that I have a captain's 
 commission. As the tempest of to-day had 
 thrown all things into confusion, and it 
 happened that 1 had nowhere to sit, Mr. 
 Venner was so kind as to ask me to take my 
 place by this fire for the night, and I am 
 pleased to find myself among so many 
 goodly young gentlemen. I make no
 
 BY THE CAMP-FIRE 17 
 
 doubt," he added, " that every one will so 
 acquit himself as very soon to receive his 
 commission." 
 
 " The sooner the better," said Hales, " and 
 as I have a flask of decent Burgundy here, 
 1 will pass it round that we may drink to 
 our luck from a loving cup." And every one 
 took his draught except MacKay, who only 
 held the cup to his lips and inclined his 
 head, being a severe and temperate man in 
 everything. 
 
 " Concerning the duel and the action 
 of that gentleman," continued MacKay, 
 " my mind may not be that of the present 
 honourable company. It has ever seemed 
 to me that a man has no right to risk his 
 own life or take that of his neighbour save 
 in the cause of just war, when he doubtless 
 is absolved. For two sinful mortals to settle 
 their poor quarrels by striking each other 
 dead is nothing else than black murder. 
 There is no difficulty to my judgment in 
 understanding the character of that duellist. 
 When he knew that through skill in fencing 
 he could kill the other man and escape 
 himself, he was always ready to fight ; when 
 he found that danger had shifted to his own 
 side, he was quick to flee. My verdict 
 
 2
 
 18 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 on him," and MacKay's voice was vibrant, 
 " is that he was nothing other than a butcher 
 and a coward." 
 
 " As the Lord liveth," cried Vernier, " I 
 hear my sainted father laying down the law, 
 and I do Captain MacKay filial reverence. 
 May I inquire whether Scotland is raising 
 many such noble Puritans, for they are 
 quickly dying out in England ? Such savoury 
 and godly conversation have I 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 Vernier, 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 the other side we have 
 all heard. Nor can I, indeed, believe that he 
 is a Roundhead, for I was always given to 
 understand that Highland gentlemen were 
 always Cavaliers, and high-spirited soldiers." 
 
 " Ye be wrong, then, good comrades,'* 
 broke in Claverhouse, " for all Highlanders 
 be not of the same way of thinking, though 
 I grant you most of them are what ye judge. 
 But have you never heard of the godly 
 Marquis of Argyle, who took such care of
 
 BY THE CAMP-FIRE 19 
 
 himself on the field of battle, but afterwards 
 happened to lose his head through a little 
 accident, and his swarm of Campbells, besides 
 some other clans that I will not mention ? 
 My kinsman of immortal memory, whom I 
 maintain to be the finest gentleman and 
 most skilful general Scotland has yet reared, 
 could have told you that there were High- 
 land Roundheads ; he knew them, and they 
 knew him, and I hope I need not be telling 
 this company what happened when they 
 met." As Graham spoke, it may have been 
 the firelight on MacKay's face, but it seemed 
 to flush and his expression to harden. How- 
 ever, 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 advice from home 
 tells me that the fanatics in the west will 
 soon be coming to a head and taking to the 
 field, we shall know that some of the clans are 
 loyal and some of them are not. And for 
 my own part, I care not how soon we come 
 to our duel in Scotland. Please God, I 
 would dearly love to have the settling of the 
 matter. With a few thousand Camerons, 
 Macphersons, MacDonalds, and such like, I
 
 20 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 will guarantee that 1 could teach the Psalm- 
 singing canters a lesson they would never 
 forget. But I crave pardon for touching 
 on our national differences, when we had 
 better be employed in cracking another 
 flask of that good Burgundy." And Graham, 
 as if ashamed of his heat, stretched his arms 
 above his head. 
 
 " May God in His mercy avert so great 
 a calamity," said Mac Kay after a pause. 
 " When brother turns against brother in the 
 same nation it is the cruellest of all wars. 
 But the rulers of Scotland may make them- 
 selves sure that if they drive God-fearing 
 people mad, they will rise against their 
 oppressors. Mr. Graham, however, has wis- 
 dom on his side I wish it had come a minute 
 sooner when he said there was no place 
 for our Scots quarrels in the Prince's army. 
 Wherefore I say no more on that matter, 
 but I pray we all may have the desire of a 
 soldier's heart, a righteous cause, a fair 
 battle, and a crowning victory, and that we 
 all in the hour of peril may do our part as 
 Christian gentlemen." 
 
 " Amen to that, Captain MacKay of 
 Scourie, three times Amen ! " cried Graham. 
 " I drink it in this wine, and pledge you all
 
 BY THE CAMP-FIRE 21 
 
 to brave deeds when a chance comes our 
 way. The sooner the better and the gladder 
 I shall be, for our race have never been 
 more content than when the swords were 
 clashing. I wish to heaven we were serving- 
 under a more high-spirited commander ; I 
 deny not his courage, else I would not be 
 among his guard, nor his skill, but I confess 
 that I do not love a man whose blood runs 
 so slow, and whose words drop like icicles. 
 But these be hasty words, and should not be 
 spoken, except among honourable comrades 
 when the wine is going round by the camp- 
 fire. And here is Jock Grimond, who, be- 
 cause he taught me to catch a trout and 
 shoot the muir-fowl when I was a little lad ? 
 thinks he ought to rule me all my days, and 
 has been telling me for the last ten minutes 
 that he has prepared some kind of bed with 
 the remains of my tent. So good-night and 
 sound sleep, gentlemen, and may to-morrow 
 bring the day for which we pray."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE BATTLE OF SENEFFE 
 
 IT was early in the morning on the first day 
 of August, and darkness was still heavy upon 
 the camp, when Grimond stooped over his 
 master and had to shake him vigorously 
 before Claverhouse woke. 
 
 " It's time you were up, Maister John ; 
 the Prince's guards are gatherin', and sune 
 will be fallin' in ; that's their trumpets 
 soundin'. Ye will need a bite before ye 
 start, and here's a small breakfast, pairt of 
 which I saved oot o' that stramash yesterday 
 sail ! the blast threatened to leave neither 
 meat nor lodgin' and pairt I happened to 
 light upon this mornin' when I was takin' a 
 bit walk through the camp with my lantern." 
 
 Grimond spread out a fairly generous 
 breakfast of half a fowl, a piece of ham, some 
 excellent cheese, with good white bread and 
 a bottle of wine, and held the lantern that
 
 his master might eat with some comfort, if 
 it had to be with more haste. 
 
 " Do you ken, Jock, where I was when 
 you wakened me, and flashed the light upon 
 my face? Away in bonnie Glen Ogilvie, 
 where everything is at its best to-day. I 
 dreamed that I was off to Sidlaw Hill, to see 
 what was doing with the muir-fowl, and I 
 felt the good Scots air blowing upon my face. 
 This is a black wakening, Jock, but I've slept 
 worse, and you have done well for breakfast. 
 Ye never came honestly by it, man. Have 
 ye been raiding ? " 
 
 " Providence guided me, Maister John, 
 and I micht have given a little assistance 
 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 some- 
 body's breakfast. Whether he had taken all 
 he wanted or whether he was going to be 
 too late wasna my business, but the Lord 
 delivered that fowl into my hands, and I 
 considered it a temptin' o' Providence no to 
 tak it, to say nothin' o' the white bread. The 
 wine and the ham I savit frae yesterday." 
 
 " You auld thief, I might have guessed 
 where you picked up the breakfast. I only
 
 24 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 hope 'twas a heavy-built Dutchman who 
 could starve for a week without suffering, 
 and not a lean, hungry Scot who needed 
 some breakfast to put strength in him for a 
 day's fighting, if God be good enough to send 
 it. Isn't it a regiment of the Scots brigade 
 which is lying next to us, Jock ? " 
 
 " It is," replied that worthy servitor, " and 
 I was hopin' that it was Captain MacKay's 
 rations which were given into my hands, so 
 to say, by the higher power. I was standing 
 behind you, Maister John, last nicht when 
 you and him was argling-bargling, and if 
 ever I saw a cunning twa-faced Covenanter, 
 it's that man. They say he has got a good 
 word with the Prince through his Dutch 
 wife, and where ye give that kind of man an 
 inch, he will take an ell. It's no for me to 
 give advice, me bein' in my place and you in 
 yours. But I promised your honourable 
 mither that 1 wouldna see you come to 
 mischief if I could help it, and I am sair 
 mistaken if yon man will no be a mercilous 
 and persistent enemy. May the Almichty 
 forbid it, but if MacKay of Scourie can 
 hinder it there will be little advancement 
 for Graham of Claverhouse in this army." 
 
 " You are a dour and suspicious devil,
 
 THE BATTLE OF SENEFFE 2 
 
 Jock, and you've always been the same ever 
 since I remember you. Captain Mac Kay is 
 a Whig and a Presbyterian, but he is a good 
 soldier, and I wish I had been more civil to 
 him last night. We are here to fight for the 
 Prince of Orange and to beat the French, 
 and let the best man win ; it will be time 
 enough to quarrel when we get back to 
 Scotland. Kindly Scots should bury their 
 differences, and stand shoulder to shoulder 
 in a foreign land." 
 
 " That is bonnie talk, laird, but dinna for- 
 get there's been twa kinds of Scot in the land 
 since the Reformation, and there will be twa 
 to the end of the chapter, and they'll never 
 agree till the day of judgment, and then 
 they'll be on opposite sides. There was 
 Queen Mary and 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 the head o' your hoose, the gallant 
 Marquis peace to his soul. Now there's 
 the Carnegies and the Gordons and the rest 
 o' the royal families in the north-east, and 
 the sour-blooded Covenanters down in the 
 west, and it's no in the nature o' things that 
 they should agree any more than oil and 
 water. As for me, the very face of a.
 
 26 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 Presbyterian Whig makes me sick. But 
 there's the trumpet again," and Grimond 
 helped his master to put on his arms. 
 
 " I've been awfu' favoured this mornin', 
 Maister John, for what div ye think ? I've 
 secured nae less than a baggage-wagon for 
 oorsel's. The driver was stravagin' aboot in 
 the dark and didna know where he was going, 
 so I asked him if he wasna coming for the 
 baggage of the English gentlemen, to say 
 naething of a Scots gentleman. When he 
 was trying to understand me, and I was 
 trying to put some sense into him, up comes 
 Mr. Carleton, and I explained the situation 
 to him. He told the driver in his own 
 language that I would guide him to the spot, 
 and me and the other men are packing the 
 whole of the gentlemen's luggage and ane 
 or twa comforts in the shape of meat and 
 bedding which the fools round about us 
 <lidna seem to notice, or were going to leave. 
 That wagon, Mr. John, is a crownin' mercy, 
 -and I'm to sit beside the driver, and it will 
 no be my blame if there's no a tent and a 
 supper wherever Providence sends us this 
 nicht." And Jock went off in great feather 
 to look after his acquisition, while his master 
 joined his comrades of the Prince's guard.
 
 THE BATTLE OF SENEFFE 27 
 
 As the day rapidly breaks, they find them- 
 selves passing from the level into a broken 
 country. The ground is rising, and in the 
 distance they can see defiles through which 
 the army must make its way. The van- 
 guard, as they learn from one of the Prince's 
 aides-de-camp, is composed of the Imperial 
 corps commanded by Count Souches, and 
 must by this time be passing through the 
 narrows. In front are the Dutch troops, 
 who are under the immediate command of 
 the Commander-in- Chief, the Prince of 
 Orange. The English volunteers, being the 
 next to the Prince's regiment of Guards, 
 followed close upon the main body of the 
 army, and behind them trailed the long, 
 cumbrous baggage train. The rear-guard, 
 together with some details of various kinds 
 and nations, consisted of the Spanish divi- 
 sion, which was commanded by Prince 
 Vaudemont. As they came to higher 
 ground Claverhouse began to see the lie 
 of the country, and to express his fears to 
 Carleton. 
 
 " I don't know how you judge things," 
 said Claverhouse, " but I would not be quite 
 at my ease if I were his Highness of Orange, 
 in command of the army, and with more
 
 28 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 than one nation's interest at stake, instead 
 of a poor devil of a volunteer, with little 
 pay, less reputation, and no responsibility. 
 If we were marching across a plain and 
 could see twenty miles round, or if there 
 were no enemy within striking reach, well, 
 then this were a pleasant march from Nivelle 
 to Binch, for that is where I'm told we are 
 going. But, faith, I don't like the sight 
 of this country in which we are being en- 
 tangled. If Conde has any head and he 
 is not a fool he could arrange a fine am- 
 buscade, and catch those mighty and vain- 
 glorious Imperialists and that fool Souches 
 like rats in a trap. Or he might make a 
 sudden attack on the flank and cut our 
 army into two, as you divide a caterpillar 
 crawling along the ground." 
 
 " The General knows what he is about no 
 doubt," replies Carleton with true English 
 phlegm ; " he has made his plan, and I sup- 
 pose the cavalry have been scouting. It's 
 their business who have got the command 
 to arrange the march and the attack, and 
 ours to do the fighting. It will be soon 
 enough for us to arrange the tactics when 
 we get to be generals. What say you to 
 that, Mr. Graham ? There's no sign of the
 
 enemy at any rate, and Souches must be 
 well in through the valley." 
 
 " No," said Graham, " there are no French- 
 men to be seen, but they may be there 
 behind the hill on our right, and quick 
 enough to show themselves when the time 
 comes. Oh ! I like this bit of country, for 
 it minds me of the Braes of Angus, and I 
 hate a land where all is flat and smooth. 
 By heaven ! what a chance there is for any 
 commander who knows how to use a hill 
 country. See ye here, comrade, suppose 
 this was Scotland, and this were an army 
 of black Whigs, making their way to do 
 some evil work after their heart's desire 
 against their King and Church, and I had 
 the dealing with them. All I would ask 
 would be a couple of Highland clans and a 
 regiment of loyal gentlemen, well mounted 
 and armed. I would wait concealed behind 
 yon wood up there near the sky-line till 
 those Imperialists were fairly up the glen 
 and out of sight and the Dutch were plod- 
 ding their way in. Then I'd launch the 
 Highlanders, sword in hand, down the 
 slope of that hill, and cut off the rear- 
 guard, and take the baggage at a swoop, 
 and in half an hour the army would be
 
 30 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOQSE 
 
 disabled and the third part of it put out of 
 action." 
 
 " What about the Imperial troops and 
 the Dutch, my general ? " said Carleton, 
 much interested in Claverhouse's plan of 
 battle. "You can't take an army in de- 
 tachments just as you please." 
 
 " You can with Highlanders and cavalry, 
 and then having struck your blow retire as 
 quickly as you came. Faith, there would 
 be no option about the retiring with your 
 Highlanders ; when they got hold of the 
 baggage they would do nothing more. 
 After every man had lifted as much as he 
 could carry, he would make for the hills 
 and leave the other troops to do as they 
 pleased. An army of Highlanders is 
 quickly gathered and quickly dispersed, and 
 the great point of attraction is the baggage. 
 Conde' has no Highlanders, the worse for 
 him and the better for us, but he has plenty 
 of light troops infantry as well as cavalry 
 and if he doesn't take this chance he ought 
 to be discharged with disgrace. But see 
 there, what make you of that, Carleton ? " 
 
 " What and where ? " said Carleton, look- 
 ing in the direction Claverhouse pointed. " I 
 see the brushwood, and it may be that there
 
 THE BATTLE OF SEXEFFE 31 
 
 are troops behind, 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 Carleton, who was 
 standing in his stirrups and shading his eyes 
 with his hand, " it's the glitter of a breast- 
 plate. There's one trooper at any rate in 
 that wood, and if there is one there may 
 be hundreds. What think you ? " 
 
 " What I've been expecting for hours. 
 Those are the videttes of the French army, 
 and they have been watching us all the 
 time our vanguard was passing. I'll stake 
 a year's rental of the lands of Claverhouse 
 that if we could see on the other side of 
 that hill we would find Conde's troops 
 making ready for an attack." 
 
 " I will not say but that you are right, 
 and I don't like the situation nor feel as 
 comfortable as I did half an hour ago. Do 
 you think that the general in command 
 knows of this danger, or has heard that the 
 French outposts are so near ? " 
 
 " If you ask me, Mr. Carleton, I would
 
 32 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 say that those Dutch officers don't know 
 that there is a Frenchman within ten miles ; 
 they are good at drill, and steady in battle, 
 but their minds are as heavy as their bodies. 
 Their idea of fighting is to deploy according 
 to a book of drill on a parade ground ; you 
 cannot expect men who live on the flat to 
 understand hills. That wood," and Claver- 
 house was looking at the hill 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 their mercy ? " Claver- 
 house pointed forward to the crest of a little 
 hill over which the Dutch brigade were 
 passing in marching formation, and back- 
 ward to the lumbering train of baggage- 
 wagons. 
 
 " * Whom the gods wish to destroy they 
 first make mad,' is a Latin proverb I picked 
 up at St. Andrew's University, and one of 
 the few scraps of knowledge I carried away 
 from the good old place. They might at 
 least have thrown out some of our cavalry 
 on the right to draw fire from that wood, 
 and enable us to find their position. It's 
 not overly pleasant to jog quietly along as 
 if one were riding up the Carse of Gowrie 
 to Perth fair, when it's far more likely we
 
 THE BATTLE OF SENEFFE 33 
 
 are riding into the shambles like a herd of 
 fat bullocks going to Da vie Saunders, the 
 Dundee butcher." 
 
 " See you here, friend," cried Carleton, "I 
 am not in a mind to be taken at a disadvan- 
 tage and ridden down by those Frenchmen 
 when we are not in formation. They have 
 us at a disadvantage in any case, but, by 
 my life, we ought at any rate to deploy to 
 the right, and seize that higher ground, or 
 else they will send us into that marshland 
 that I see forward there on the left. If they 
 do, there will be some throats cut, and it 
 might be yours or mine. What say you, 
 Mr. Graham, to riding forward and telling one 
 of the officers in attendance on his Highness 
 what 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 not go, and that 
 is John Graham of Claverhouse. It may 
 be vain pride, or it may not, but I will not 
 have the shame of telling my tale to one 
 of those Dutchmen as if you were speaking 
 to a painted monument, and then 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, 
 
 3
 
 and so I'll just be doing. But I will be 
 ready when the cloud breaks from yon hill, 
 and it's not far off the bursting now." And 
 Graham pointed out that the glitter was 
 repeated at several points, as when the sun 
 is reflected from broken dishes on a hillside. 
 
 " You Scots are a proud race," laughed 
 Carleton, " and quick to take offence. We 
 English have a temper, too, but we are 
 nearer to those Dutchmen in our nature. 
 I'll not see the army ambuscaded without 
 a warning. If they take it we shall make a 
 better fight, and for the first hour it will 
 be bad enough anyway till the vanguard 
 are brought back, and if they won't take 
 it, why, we have done our duty, and we 
 will have to look after ourselves." And 
 Carleton spurred his horse and cantered 
 forward to where the headquarters staff 
 were riding with the troop which was called 
 the Scots brigade, because it was largely 
 officered and to some extent manned by 
 Scotsmen, and in which Mac Kay had a 
 captain's commission. 
 
 In some fifteen minutes Carleton rejoined 
 Claverhouse red and annoyed, and at the 
 sight of him Claverhouse laughed. 
 
 " Without offence, good comrade, I take
 
 THE BATTLE OF SENEFFE 35 
 
 it you have not been thanked for your 
 trouble or been promised promotion. Sworn 
 at, I dare say, if those godly Dutchmen are 
 allowed to rap out an oath. At any rate 
 you have been told to attend to your own 
 work and leave our wise generals to manage 
 theirs, eh ? " 
 
 " You are right, Graham. I wish I had 
 bitten off my tongue rather than reported 
 the matter. I got hold of an aide-de-camp, 
 and I pointed out what we had seen, and 
 he spoke to me as if I was a boy with my 
 heart in my mouth for fear I would be 
 shot every minute. For a set of pig-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 the issue of the battle before 
 night, it will be one way or another with 
 us within an hour." As he spoke Claver- 
 house began to put himself in order, seeing 
 that his pistols were ready in the holsters, 
 his sword loose in the scabbard, and the 
 girths of his saddle tight. 
 
 " It will be a sharp piece of work for us, 
 and some good sword play before it is 
 done."
 
 Suddenly from the wood a line of cavalry 
 emerged, followed by another and still 
 another, till at least three regiments were 
 on the side of the hill, and behind them it 
 was evident there was a large body of 
 troops. By this time the staff had taken 
 alarm, and an officer had galloped up with 
 orders that the English volunteers and 
 Dutch cavalry should deploy to the right, 
 and orders were also sent to the Spaniards 
 in the rear to advance rapidly and cover the 
 baggage. The Dutch troops in front who 
 had entered the defile were arrested, and 
 began to march back, and an urgent 
 message was sent to the Imperialists to 
 follow the Dutch in case the French should 
 make a general attack. Before the Dutch 
 troops had returned to the open, and long 
 before the Imperialists could be in action, 
 the French, crossing the hill with immense 
 rapidity and covered by a screen of cavalry, 
 attacked the Spanish rear-guard before it 
 was able to take up a proper form of 
 defence ; and though the Spaniards fought 
 with their accustomed courage, and no 
 blame could be attached to the dispositions 
 made in haste by Vaudemont, this division 
 of the army was absolutely routed, and one
 
 THE BATTLE OF SENEFFE 37 
 
 distinguished Spanish general, the Marquis 
 of Assentar, was killed when cheering his 
 men to the defence. The defeat of the 
 Spaniards left the baggage train unprotected, 
 and the French troops fell upon it with 
 great zest : indeed, Claverhouse that night 
 declared that the Highlanders themselves 
 could not have raided more heartily or more 
 swiftly. Nor did the Spaniards, when once 
 they had been beaten and scattered, and 
 fighting was no longer of any use, disdain 
 to help themselves to the plunder. Grimond 
 was furious as he saw his wagon in danger, 
 and endeavoured to rally some odds and 
 ends of flying Spaniards and terrified wagon- 
 drivers to defend his cherished possessions. 
 But he was left to do so himself, and after 
 beating off the first two Frenchmen who 
 came to investigate, and being wounded 
 in a general fight with the next lot, he was 
 obliged to leave the possessions of the 
 English volunteers to their fate and set off 
 to discover how it fared with his master. 
 
 The Battle of Seneffe was to last all day, 
 and before evening the two armies would 
 be generally engaged ; eighteen thousand 
 men were to fall on both sides, and there 
 were to, be many hot encounters, but the
 
 38 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 sharpest took place at the centre and early 
 in the day. The cavalry with the English 
 volunteers were thrown forward to hinder 
 the advance of the French cavalry who, 
 while their infantry were dealing with the 
 Spanish corps, were being hurled at the 
 centre in order to cut the army in two and 
 confine the Dutch troops to the defile, or 
 if they emerged from the defiles, to crush 
 them before they could deploy on the 
 broken country. 
 
 " Where do you take it is the point of 
 conflict ? " asked Carleton as the regiment 
 of the Guards with which they were serving 
 went forward at a sharp trot across the 
 level ground, on which the French cavalry 
 should soon be appearing. " Where is his 
 Highness himself, for I can get no sight of 
 the rest of the Dutch cavalry ? " 
 
 " To the left, I take it, where the fight 
 has already begun. Do you not hear the 
 firing ? and I seem to catch some shouts, 
 as if the Dutch and the French were already 
 meeting. Mind you, Carleton, his Highness 
 may have been too confident and laid the 
 army open to attack, but he can tell where 
 the heart of the situation is, and his business 
 will be to resist the French onslaught till
 
 the infantry are in position. Just as I 
 thought, we are to go to his aid, and in ten 
 minutes, or my name is not Graham, we 
 shall have as much as we want." 
 
 In less than that space of time the 
 regiment, now galloping, found themselves 
 in the immediate rear of the fighting line, 
 and opened out and prepared to advance. 
 In front of them three regiments of Dutch 
 cavalry were being beaten back by a French 
 brigade, and just when the English volun- 
 teers arrived the French received a large 
 accession of strength, and the Dutch, broken 
 and ridden down by weight of men and 
 horses, were driven back. It w r as in vain 
 that their colonel ordered his men to charge, 
 for in fifty yards the mass of Dutch cavalry 
 in front were thrown upon them and broke 
 their line. It was now a man-to-man and 
 hand-to-hand conflict for a few minutes, 
 and Claverhouse, when he had disentangled 
 himself from the hurly-burly, and forced 
 his way through the mass, was in immediate 
 conflict with a French officer in front of 
 their line, whom he disarmed by a clever 
 sword trick which he had learned from a 
 master of arms in the French service. A 
 French soldier missed Claverhouse's head
 
 40 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 by a hair's-breadth, while he, swerving, 
 struck down another on his right. Carleton 
 had disappeared, Hales had been wounded, 
 but in the end escaped with his life. Collier 
 and Claverhouse were now in the open 
 space behind the first line of the French 
 cavalry, and they could see more than one 
 Dutch officer and some of the Dutch 
 troopers also in the same dangerous position. 
 Graham was considering what to do when 
 he caught sight, a short distance off on the 
 left, of a figure he seemed to know : it was 
 an officer riding slowly along the line as if 
 in command, and taking no heed of the 
 many incidents happening round him. 
 
 " Collier," cried Graham, " see you who 
 that is among the French soldiers alone and 
 at their mercy ? As I am a living man it is 
 the Prince himself. Good God ! how did he 
 get there, and what is he going to do ? " 
 
 While Graham was speaking the Prince 
 of Orange, who was now quite close to him, 
 but gave no sign that he recognised him, 
 suddenly threw out an order in French to 
 the regiment behind which he was riding, 
 and which was hewing its way through a mass 
 of Dutch. He called on them to halt and 
 reform ; and their officers, supposing him to
 
 THE BATTLE OF SENEFFE 41 
 
 be one of their generals who had arrived 
 from headquarters, set to work to extricate 
 their men from the melee. The Prince 
 passed with the utmost coolness through 
 their line as if to see what was doing in 
 front, while Claverhouse and Collier followed 
 him as if they were attached. As soon as 
 he had got to the open space in front, for 
 what remained of the Dutch were in rapid 
 retreat, and were scattering in all directions, 
 he put spurs to his horse, and shouting to 
 Claverhouse and Collier to follow rapidly, 
 for his trick had already been detected, he 
 galloped forward to the place where the 
 crowd of fugitives was thinnest, that he 
 might as soon as possible rejoin his staff and 
 resume command when above all times a 
 general was needed. A French officer, how- 
 ever, had recognised him as he passed 
 through the line, and now with some dozen 
 soldiers was pursuing at full speed. The 
 Prince's horse had been wounded in two 
 places and was also blown with exertion, 
 and passing over some marshy ground had 
 not strength to clear it, but plunged help- 
 lessly in the soft soil. In two minutes the 
 French would have been upon them and 
 made the greatest capture of the war.
 
 Claverhouse, leaping off his horse, asked 
 the Prince to mount, who instantly, and 
 without more than a nod, sprang into the 
 saddle and escaped when the Frenchmen were 
 within a few yards. Claverhouse fired at the 
 French officer and missed him, but brought 
 down his horse, which did just as well, and 
 Collier sent his sword through the shoulder 
 of the French soldier who followed next. 
 Claverhouse, seizing this minute of delay, 
 ran with all his might for a hedge, over which 
 dismounted stragglers w r ere climbing in hot 
 haste, and made for the nearest gap. It was 
 blocked by a tall and heavily-built Dutch 
 dragoon, who could neither get through nor 
 back, and was swearing fearfully. 
 
 " It's maist awfu' to see a Christian man 
 misusing the Lord's mercies like that," and 
 at the sound of that familiar voice Claver- 
 house turned to find Grimond by his side, 
 who had been out in the hope of finding his 
 master, and had certainly come to his aid at 
 the right time. 
 
 " Would onybody but a blunderin' fool 
 of a Dutchman think of blockin' a passage 
 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
 
 THE BATTLE OF SENEFFE 43 
 
 afore, Maister John, and there ye go." 
 Claverhouse, jumping on Grimond, who made 
 a back for him, went over the Dutchman's 
 shoulders. Then he seized the Dutchman by 
 his arm. while Grimond acted as a battering- 
 ram behind : so they pulled what remained 
 of him, like a cork out of the mouth of a 
 bottle, and Grimond followed his master. 
 Collier, who had been covering the retreat, 
 left his horse to its fate, and ran by the 
 same convenient gap. 
 
 " To think o' the perversity o' that Dutch- 
 man obstructin' a right o' way, especially on 
 sich a busy day, wi' his muckle unmannerly 
 carcase, as if he had been a Highland cattle 
 beast. Dod ! he would make a grand Cove- 
 nanter for the cursed thrawnness o' him." 
 
 That night when the English volunteers, 
 who had all escaped with some slight wounds 
 and the loss of their baggage, were going 
 over the day's work, an officer attached to 
 the Prince asked if a Scots gentleman called 
 Mr. Graham was present. When Claver- 
 house rose and saluted him, the officer said, 
 with the curt brevity of his kind, " His 
 Highness desires your presence," and im- 
 mediately turned and strode off in the 
 direction of the headquarters, while Claver-
 
 44 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 house, shrugging his shoulders, followed 
 him in his usual leisurely fashion. On 
 arriving at the farm-house where the Prince 
 had gone after the French had retired, 
 Graham was immediately shown into his 
 room. The Prince, rising and returning 
 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, and per- 
 haps my life from death. I do not forget 
 any man who has done me good, and who is 
 loyal to me. What you desire at my hands 
 I do not know, and what it would be best 
 to do for you I do not yet know. If you 
 determine after some experience to remain 
 in my service, and if you show yourself the 
 good soldier I take you to be, you will not 
 miss promotion. That is all I will say to- 
 night, for I know not where your ambitions 
 may lie." The Prince looked coldly at 
 Graham's love-locks and Cavalier air. 
 "Your cause may not be my cause. I 
 bid you good-evening, Mr. Graham. We 
 shall meet again."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 A DECISIVE BLOW 
 
 " You have the devil's luck, Graham," said 
 Rooke, who had taken a meal fit for two 
 men, and now had settled down to smoke 
 and drink for the evening. " To get the 
 best place in the attack to-day on the town, 
 and to escape with nothing more than a cat 
 scratch, which will not hurt your beauty, 
 is more than any ordinary man can expect. 
 There will be some hot work before Grave 
 is taken, and plenty of good men will get 
 their marching orders," for the Prince and 
 his troops were now besieging Grave keenly, 
 and the English volunteers were messing 
 together after an assault which had captured 
 some of the outworks. 
 
 " I would lay you what you like, Rooke," 
 drawled Venner, " if I were not a Puritan, 
 and didn't disapprove of drinking and gam- 
 bling and other works of Satan, that Chamilly 
 
 4i
 
 46 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 will come to terms within fourteen days. 
 He has no stomach for those mortars that 
 are playing on the place, and he knows that 
 Orange, having got his teeth in, will never 
 take them out. Another assault like to-day 
 will settle the matter. Graham here used 
 to say that his Highness was an icicle, but 
 1 judge him a good fighting man. You 
 will get as much as you want if you follow 
 the Prince. Ballantine that's gone to-day 
 always said that there was no soldier in 
 Europe he would put before the Prince. 
 Speaking about that, who, think you, will 
 get the place of lieutenant-colonel in the 
 Scots Brigade in succession to Sir William ? " 
 
 " Don't know, and don't care," said Collier, 
 stretching himself and yawning. " It will 
 go to some officer of the Scots Brigade ; and 
 though I 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 among those canny Scots ; 
 they are as jealous and as bigoted as a 
 Roundhead Conventicle, 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 Carleton. " You seem to have forgotten
 
 A DECISIVE BLOW 47 
 
 that one of our good company is not only 
 a Scot, but has done the Prince priceless 
 service. I make little doubt that we 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 I 
 expect to-morrow to drink a flask of wine to 
 his commission as lieutenant-colonel. What 
 say you to my idea ? " 
 
 " If promotion went by merit, I'm with 
 you, Carleton ; but, faith, it goes by every- 
 thing else, and specially back-door influence. 
 A man gets his step, not because he is a 
 good soldier, but because he has got a friend 
 at court, or he is the same religion as the 
 general, or I have heard cases where it went 
 by gold." 
 
 " That such things are done, Rooke, I 
 will not deny, but they say that promotion 
 goes fairly where his Highness commands ; 
 he has an eye for a good soldier, and you 
 have forgotten that he would not be in his 
 place to-day had it not been for our com- 
 rade's help." 
 
 " I remember that quite well, and I wish 
 to God other people may remember, for 
 Graham ran a pretty good chance of closing 
 his life that day and never seeing Scotland
 
 48 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 again, but princes have short memories. If 
 Charles II. of sainted character had called 
 to his mind that my grandfather, 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 would not be a gentleman 
 volunteer in this army without a spare gold 
 piece in my pocket. Kings bless you at the 
 time with many pretty words, and then 
 don't know your face next time you meet ; 
 but I wish you good luck, Graham, and I 
 drink your health. What think you your- 
 self?" 
 
 " What I ought to think, gentlemen, is 
 that I am much honoured to have your 
 good opinion and your friendly wishes." 
 And Graham gathered them all with a smile 
 that gave his delicate and comely features a 
 rare fascination. " You are true comrades 
 as well as brave gentlemen. I will not 
 deny, though I would only say it among 
 my friends, that I have thought of that 
 vacancy, and have wondered whether the 
 appointment would come my way. I re- 
 ceived, indeed, a private word to apply for 
 it this evening, but that I will not do. The 
 Prince knows what I have done, though I 
 do not make so much of saving his life as
 
 A DECISIVE BLOW 49 
 
 you may think. If he is pleased to give me 
 this advance, well, gentlemen, I,Jiope I shall 
 not bring disgrace upon the Scots Brigade. 
 But let us change the subject. We be a 
 barbarous people in the north, but after all 
 a gentleman does not love to talk about his 
 own doings, still less of his own glory. To 
 bed, my comrades ; we may have heavy work 
 to-morrow." 
 
 The Prince gave his troops a day's rest, 
 and left the artillery to do their work, and 
 Claverhouse was reading for the sixth time 
 some letters of his mother, when Grimond 
 came in with the air of a man full 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 favour. 
 
 " What news, did ye say, Mr. John ? 
 Weel, if ye mean from Scotland, ye have 
 the last yersel' in the letters of your honour- 
 able mither. What I am hearing from 
 some Scot that cam' oot o' the west country 
 is that if the council doesna maister the 
 Covenanters, the dear carles will maister 
 them, and then Scotland will be a gey ill 
 place to live in. It will be a fine sicht when 
 you and me, Claverhouse, has to sign the 
 Solemn League and Covenant, and hear 
 
 4
 
 50 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 Sandy Peden, that they call a prophet, 
 preachin' three hours on the sins o' prelacy 
 and dancin'. My certie ! " And at the 
 thought thereof Grimond lost the power of 
 speech. 
 
 " Never mind Scotland, Jock, just now ; 
 the auld country will take care of herself 
 till we go home, and then we'll give such 
 assistance as is in the power of a good sword. 
 Who knows, man, but we'll be riding through 
 the muirs of Ayrshire after something bigger 
 than muir-fowl before many years are over ? 
 But the camp, man : what's going on here 
 this morning, and what are the folk talking 
 about, for, as ye know, I've been on the 
 broad of my back after yesterday's work ? " 
 
 " If ye mean by news, laird, what wasna 
 expected, and that, I'm judging, is a correct 
 definition o' news, there's naethin' worth 
 mentionin'. A dozen more Scots have come 
 to get their livin' or their death, as Provi- 
 dence wills, in a foreign army, instead of 
 working their bit o' land on a brae-side in 
 bonnie Scotland. But that's no news, for it 
 has been goin' on for centuries, and I'm ex- 
 pectin' will last as long as thae foreign bodies 
 need buirdly men and Scotland has a cold 
 climate.
 
 A DECISIVE BLOW 51 
 
 " They are saying, I may mention, that 
 Chamilly is getting sick o' these mortars, 
 and didna particularly like the attack yes- 
 terday, and the story is going about that he 
 will soon ask for terms, and that if he gets 
 the honours of war the Prince may have the 
 town. It will be another feather in his cap, 
 and, to my thinkin', he has got ower many 
 for his deservin' an underhand and evil- 
 hearted loon." And Grimond spoke with 
 such vehemence and a keen dislike that 
 Claverhouse suspected he had heard some- 
 thing more important than he had told. 
 
 " ' Is that all ? ' ye ask, Claverhouse, and 
 I reply No ; but I wish to gudeness that it 
 was. If news be what has happened, even 
 though some of us expected it, then I have 
 got some, although I would rather that 
 my tongue was blistered than tell it. It 
 cam' into my mind that the Prince micht be 
 appointin' the new colonel to the Scots 
 Brigade this mornin', and so I just happened 
 to give a cry on an Angus man who is 
 gettin' his bit livin' as a servant to one 
 of the aides-de-camp. He is called a Dutch- 
 man, but has honest Scots blood in his 
 veins. We havered about this and about 
 that, and then I threipit [insisted] that he
 
 52 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 would never hear onything that was goin' 
 on, and, for example, that he wouldna 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 me hear 
 his name.' * Well,' he answered, ' if ye 
 maun have it, it's no your maister that folk 
 thought would get it.' ' Then,' said I, 
 ' Patrick, I jalouse who it is ; it's MacKay 
 of Scourie.' ' It is,' said Patrick. ' I heard 
 it when I was standin' close to the door, and 
 I canna say that I'm pleased.' Naither was 
 I, ye may depend upon it, Claverhouse, but 
 I wouldna give onybody the satisfaction of 
 knowing what I thocht. So I just contented 
 mysel' wi' sayin', ' Damn them baith, the 
 ane for an ungrateful scoundrel, and the 
 other for a plottin', schemin' hypocritical 
 Presbyterian ! ' I cam' to tell ye, but no 
 word would have passed my lips if ye hadna 
 chanced to ask me." 
 
 " Jock, you've been a faithful man to the 
 house of Graham for many years," said 
 Claverhouse, after a silence of some minutes, 
 during which Grimond busied himself polish- 
 ing his master's arms, " and I will say to you
 
 A DECISIVE BLOW 53 
 
 what I am not going to tell the camp, that 
 you might have brought better news. 
 Whether I was right or wrong, man, I had 
 set my heart upon succeeding Ballantine, and 
 I was imagining that maybe this very after- 
 noon I could write home to my mother and 
 tell her that her son was a lieutenant-colonel 
 in the good Scots Brigade. But it's all in 
 the chances of war, and we must just take 
 things as they come. Do ye know, Jock, I 
 often think I was born, like the Marquis, 
 under an unlucky star, and that all my life 
 things will go ill with me, and with my 
 cause. I dinna think that I'll ever see old 
 age, and I doubt whether I'll leave an heir 
 to succeed me. I dreamed one nicht that 
 the wraith of our house stood beside my bed 
 and said, ' Ye '11 be cursed in love and cursed 
 in war, and die a bloody death at the hand of 
 traitors whom ye trusted.' ' 
 
 " For God's sake, Maister John, dinna 
 speak like that." And Grimond's voice, 
 hard man though he was, was nigh the 
 breaking. " It's no chancy ; what ye say 
 micht come to pass if ye believe it. What- 
 ever the evil spirit said in the veesions o' the 
 nicht oh ! my laddie, for laddie ye have 
 been to me since I learned ye to ride your
 
 54 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 pony and fire your first shot, ye mauna give 
 heed or meddle wi' Providence. Ye have 
 been awfu' favoured wi' the bonniest face 
 ever I saw on a man, so that there's no a lass 
 looks on ye but she loves ye, and the hardiest 
 body ever I kenned. Ye have the best 
 blood of Scotland in your veins, and I never 
 saw ye fearful o' onything ; ye have covered 
 yersel' wi' glory in this war, and I prophesy 
 there will be a great place waiting you in the 
 north country. There's no a noble lady in 
 Scotland that wouldna be willing to marry 
 you, and I'm expectin' afore I die to see you 
 famous as the great Marquis himsel', wi' 
 sons and daughters standin' round ye. I 
 ken aboot the wraith o' the house o' Graham, 
 a maleecious and lying jade. If she ever 
 comes to ye again by nicht or day, bid her 
 begone 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 count you more 
 friend than servant, and you've spoken good 
 words ; but I take it this day's happenings 
 are an omen of what is coming. Maybe I 
 am ower young to take black views o' hidden 
 days, but ye'll mind afterwards, Jock Grim- 
 ond, when ye wrap me in a bloody coat for
 
 A DECISIVE BLOW 55 
 
 burial, for there will be no shroud for me, 
 that I said the shadow began to fall at the 
 siege of Grave. But there's no use com- 
 plaining, man ; our cup is mixed, and we 
 must drink it, bitter or sweet. Aye, the 
 Grahams are a doomed house, and we maun 
 dree oor weird." 
 
 " Weird," broke out Grimond, with a 
 revulsion from pathos to anger. " Ye speak 
 as if it were the will o' the Almichty, but I 
 am thinkin' the thing was worked from an- 
 other quarter. Providence had very little 
 hand in it, unless ye call Captain Hugh 
 Mac Kay Providence, and in that case it'll 
 be true what some folks say, that the devil 
 rules the world. From all 1 can gather, 
 and I keep my ears open when you are con- 
 cerned, laird, I am as sure as you are Laird 
 of Claverhouse that Scourie, confoond his 
 smooth face, has been plottin' aginst ye ever 
 since ye sat that nicht afore the Battle of 
 Seneffe roond the camp-fire. I saw how he 
 looked, and I said to mysel', ' You're up to 
 some mischief.' His party hangit the noble 
 Marquis and plagued him wi' their prayers 
 on the scaffold, and it is as natural for 
 a Covenanter to hate a Graham as to 
 eat his breakfast. MacKay saw we were
 
 56 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 dangerous, and yell be more dangerous yet, 
 Claverhouse, to the black crew. He has 
 been up the back stairs tellin' lies aboot 
 ye, and sayin' that though many trust ye, 
 for a' that ye are an enemy to Presbytery. 
 Yell have your chance yet, laird, and avenge 
 the murder o' the Marquis, but there'll be 
 no place for ye here so long as MacKay is 
 pourin' the poison o' asps, as auld David has 
 it, into the Prince's ear." 
 
 " Na, na, Mr. John," concluded Grimond 
 when his master had remonstrated with him 
 for speaking against the Prince and an offi- 
 cer of the army, and warned him to be care- 
 ful of his tongue, " ye needna be feart that 
 a word 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 work 
 us wrang. Gin onybody speaks to me aboot 
 Captain MacKay being made a colonel, 111 
 give him to understand that my master was 
 offered the post and declined to take it for 
 special reasons o' his own ; maybe because 
 ye wanted to stay wi' the gentlemen volun- 
 teers, and maybe because there was a grand 
 position waitin' for ye in Scotland. Let me
 
 A DECISIVE BLOW 57 
 
 alone, laird, for makin' the most o' the situa- 
 tion : but dinna forget MacKay." 
 
 Claverhouse was of another breed from 
 Grimond, and had the chivalrous instincts 
 of his house, but as the time wore on and 
 Graham went with the Prince's guards after 
 the surrender of Grave to The Hague, where 
 Colonel MacKay and the Scots Brigade 
 were also stationed, the constant spray of 
 insinuations of MacKay 's cunning and the 
 Prince's prejudice began to tell upon his 
 mind. He was conscious of a growing dis- 
 like towards MacKay, beyond that coolness 
 which must always exist between men of 
 such different religious and political creeds. 
 It was a tradition among the Scots Royal- 
 ists from the days of Montrose that the 
 Whig Highlanders, such as the Campbells, 
 were cunning and treacherous, and then it 
 was right to admit that MacKay might 
 think himself justified in warning the Prince 
 of Orange, who was surrounded by Pres- 
 byterians, and already coming under the 
 masterful influence of Carstairs, the minister 
 of the Presbyterian Church, and afterwards 
 William's most trusted councillor, that Gra- 
 ham belonged to a thoroughgoing and 
 dangerous Cavalier house, and that it would
 
 58 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 not be wise to show him too much favour. 
 Although they were fellow-soldiers, and had 
 met in camp life from time to time, they 
 had never been anything more than distant 
 acquaintances. Now it seemed to Claver- 
 house that MacKay looked at him more 
 coldly than ever, and that he had caught 
 a triumphant expression in his eye. MacKay 
 was getting upon his nerves, and he had 
 come to hate the sight of him. As a matter 
 of fact, and as Claverhouse granted to him- 
 self afterwards, while MacKay was not his 
 friend and could not be, he had never said 
 a word against him to the Prince, and if 
 he had used no influence for him, had never 
 tried to hinder his promotion. The day 
 was coming when Claverhouse would ac- 
 knowledge that though MacKay was on the 
 wrong side, he had conducted himself as be- 
 came a man of blood and a brave soldier. 
 In those days at The Hague, disappointed 
 about promotion, and with evil news from 
 Scotland, to say nothing of Grimond ever 
 at his elbow goading and inflaming him 
 through his very loyalty, Claverhouse al- 
 lowed himself to fall into an unworthy and 
 inflammatory temper. When a man is in this 
 morbid state of mind, he may at any moment
 
 A DECISIVE BLOW 59 
 
 lose self- control, and it was unfortunate that, 
 after a long tirade one morning from Gri- 
 mond, who professed to have new evidence 
 of MacKay's underhand dealing, Claverhouse 
 should have met his supposed enemy in the 
 precincts of the Prince's house. MacKay 
 was going to wait upon the Prince, and 
 was passing hurriedly with a formal salu- 
 tation, when Claverhouse, who in this very 
 haste found ground of offence, stood in the 
 way. 
 
 " May I have the honour, if you be 
 called not immediately to the Prince's 
 presence, to wish you good-morning, Colonel 
 MacKay, and to say, for it is better to give 
 to a man's face what one is thinking behind 
 his back, that, although I have not the 
 satisfaction of speaking much with you, I 
 hear you are busy enough speaking about 
 me." 
 
 " If we do not meet much, Claverhouse," 
 replied MacKay, with a look of surprise on 
 his calm and composed face, " this is not 
 my blame, and doubtless it may be counted 
 my loss. It is only that our duties lie apart 
 and we keep different company. I know 
 not what you mean by your charge against 
 me, which, I take it, comes to this, that 1
 
 60 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 have said evil of you to some one, I know 
 not whom, and in some place, I know not 
 where. Is that why you have been avoiding 
 me, and even looking at me as if I were 
 your enemy ? My time is short, but this 
 misunderstanding between gentlemen can 
 surely be quickly cleared. I pray you of 
 your courtesy, explain yourself and give 
 your evidence." 
 
 " No doubt you have little time, and no 
 doubt you will soon be busy with the same 
 work. You were born of a good house, 
 though it has taken an evil road in these 
 days ; you know the rules by which a man 
 of blood should 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 it fitting, Scourie, to slander a 
 fellow-officer to his commander, and so to 
 pollute his fountain of influence that he 
 shall not receive his just 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 Scots gentlemen." 
 
 " Is that the cause of your black looks 
 and secret ill-will ? " And MacKay was as 
 cold as ever, and gave no sign that he had 
 been stirred by this sudden attack. " In
 
 61 
 
 that case I can remove your suspicion, and 
 prevent any breach between two Scots offi- 
 cers who may not be on the same side in 
 their own country, but who serve the same 
 Prince in this land. 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 on the honour 
 of a Highland gentleman said one word 
 against you as a man or as a soldier. You 
 spoke of evidence. What is your evidence ? 
 Who has told you this thing, which is not 
 true ? Who has tried to set you on fire 
 against me ? " 
 
 " It is not necessary, Colonel MacKay, 
 to produce any witness or to quote any 
 saying of yours. The facts are known to 
 all the army ; they have seen how it has 
 fared with you and with me. I will not say 
 whether I had not some claim to succeed 
 Ballantine as lieutenant-colonel in the Scots 
 Brigade, and I will not argue whether you 
 or I had done most for his Highness. I 
 have not heard that you saved his life, or 
 that he promised to show his gratitude. I 
 will not touch further on that point, but 
 how is it, I ask you, that since that day, 
 though I had my share of fighting at the
 
 62 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 siege of Grave and elsewhere as ye know, 
 there is no word of advance for me ? If you 
 can read this riddle to me and keep your- 
 self out of it, why then I shall be willing 
 to take your hand and count you, Presby- 
 terian though you be, an honest man." 
 
 " Why ask those questions of me, espe- 
 cially as ye seem to doubt my word, Cap- 
 tain Graham ? " And for the first time 
 Mac Kay seemed stung by the insinuation of 
 dishonourable conduct. " If you will pardon 
 my advice, would it not be better that you 
 go yourself to the Prince and ask him if 
 any man has injured you with him, and how 
 it is you have not received what you con- 
 sider your just reward ? " 
 
 " That is cheap counsel, Hugh MacKay, 
 and mayhap you gave it because you knew 
 it would not be taken. Never will I humble 
 myself before that wooden image, never 
 will I ask as a favour what should be given 
 as my right. It were fine telling in Scot- 
 land that John Graham of Claverhouse was 
 waiting like a beggar upon a Dutch Prince. 
 I would rather that the liars and the plotters 
 whom he makes his friends should have the 
 will of me." 
 
 Mac Kay's face flushes for an instant to
 
 A DECISIVE BLOW 63 
 
 a fiery red, and then turns ghastly pale, 
 and without a word he was going on his way, 
 but Claverhouse would not let him. 
 
 " Will nothing rouse your blood and 
 touch your honour ? Must I do this also ? " 
 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 are pleased to send 
 within an hour, and I will give you the 
 satisfaction one gentleman desires of another 
 before the sun sets." 
 
 " You have done me bitter wrong, Cap- 
 tain Graham." And MacKay was trembling 
 with passion, and putting the severest 
 restraint upon his temper, which had now 
 been fairly roused. " But I shall not do 
 wrong against my own conscience. When 
 I took up the honourable service of arms, 
 I made a vow unto myself and sealed it 
 in covenant with God that I would accept 
 no challenge^ nor fight any duel. It is enough 
 that the blood of our enemies be on our 
 souls. I will not have the guilt of a fellow- 
 officer's death, or risk my own life in a 
 private quarrel. I pray you let me pass." 
 
 " It is your own life you are concerned
 
 64 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 about, Colonel MacKay," answered Claver- 
 house, with an evil smile full of contempt, 
 and in the quietest of accents, for he had 
 resumed his characteristic composure, " your 
 own precious life, which you desire to keep 
 in safeguard." Then, turning with a grace- 
 ful gesture to some officers who had been 
 passing and been arrested by the altercation, 
 Claverhouse said with an air of careless 
 languor : " May I have the strange privilege 
 never given me before, and perhaps never 
 to be mine again, of introducing you, by 
 his leave or without it, to a Scot whom 
 no one can deny is by birth a gentleman, 
 and whom no one can deny now is also 
 a coward Lieutenant- Colonel MacKay, of 
 the Prince's Scots Brigade."
 
 A CHANGE OF MASTERS 
 
 WHEN his first fierce heat cooled, and 
 Claverhouse had time for reflection, he was 
 by no means so well satisfied with himself 
 as he had imagined he would be in the 
 foresight of such a scene. For one thing 
 he had shown the soreness of his heart in 
 not getting promotion, and had betrayed 
 a watchful suspiciousness, which was hardly 
 included in a chivalrous character. He had 
 gone out of his way to insult a fellow- Scot, 
 and a fellow-officer who had never pretended 
 to be his friend, 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 that of Claverhouse. 
 As regards MacKay's courage, it had been 
 proved on many occasions, and to call him 
 a coward was only a childish offence, as if 
 one flung mud upon a passer-by. When 
 
 65 5
 
 66 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 Claverhouse reviewed his conduct and no 
 man was more candid in self-judgment he 
 confessed to himself that he had played an 
 undignified part, and was bitterly chagrined. 
 The encounter, of course, buzzed through 
 the camp, and every man gave his judgment, 
 many justifying Captain Graham, and 
 declaring that he had shown himself a man 
 of mettle they were the younger and 
 cruder minds many censuring him for his 
 insolent ambition and speaking of him as a 
 brawling bravo they were some of the 
 staid and stronger minds. His friends, he 
 noticed, avoided the subject and left him 
 to open it if he pleased, but he gathered 
 beforehand that he would not receive much 
 sympathy from that figure of common-sense 
 Carlton, nor that matter-of-fact soldier 
 Rooke, and that the ex-Puritan Venner 
 would only make the incident a subject 
 of satirical moralising. With another dis- 
 position than that which Providence had 
 been pleased to give John Graham, the 
 condemnation of his better judgment, con- 
 firmed by the judgment of sound men, 
 would have led him to the manly step of an 
 apology which would have been humiliating 
 to his pride, but certainly was deserved at
 
 A CHANGE OF MASTERS 67 
 
 his hands. Under the domination of his 
 masterful pride, which was both the strength 
 and the weakness of Graham's character, 
 making him capable of the most absolute 
 loyalty, and capable of the most inexcusable 
 deeds, a pride no friend could guide, and 
 no adversity could break, Claverhouse fell 
 into a fit of silent anger with himself, with 
 MacKay, with his absent critics, with the 
 Prince. It was also in keeping with his 
 nature to be that afternoon gayer than 
 usual recalling the humorous events of 
 early days with Grimond, who could hardly 
 conceal the satisfaction he dared not express, 
 treating every man he met with the most 
 gracious courtesy, smiling approval of the 
 poorest jest, and proposing healths and 
 drinking national toasts that evening with 
 his friends as if nothing had happened, and 
 no care heavier than thistledown lay upon 
 his mind. But Claverhouse knew that the 
 incident was not closed, and he was not 
 surprised when an officer attached to the 
 Prince's person called at his lodging and 
 commanded his presence at the Prince's 
 house next morning. He was aware that 
 in striking MacKay and challenging him to 
 a duel he had infringed a strict law, which
 
 forbade such deeds within the Royal 
 grounds. 
 
 William of Orange was a younger man 
 than when England knew him, and he 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 
 slight and frail body, of calm and passion- 
 less nature, capable as few men have been 
 of silence and reserve. His mind worked, 
 as it were, in vacuo, 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 a 
 personal grudge, for that would have only 
 deflected his judgment and embarrassed his 
 action. For only two or three men had he 
 any personal affection ; that also might 
 have affected the balance of his judgment 
 and the freedom of his action. His courage 
 was undeniable, his spirit of endurance 
 magnificent, his military talents and his gift 
 of statesmanship brilliant. Perhaps, on the 
 whole, his most valuable characteristic 
 qualities were self-control and a spirit of 
 moderation, which enabled him to warm 
 his hands at other men's fires and to avoid
 
 A CHANGE OF MASTERS 69 
 
 the perils of extremes. His weakness was 
 the gravity of his character, which did not 
 attract the eye or inspire devotion in the 
 ordinary man, and an inevitable want of 
 imagination, which prevented him entering 
 into the feelings of men of a different caste. 
 It would, indeed, have been difficult to find 
 a more vivid contrast between the two men 
 who faced each other in the Prince's room, 
 and who represented those two schools of 
 thought which have ever been in conflict in 
 religion reason and authority, and those two 
 types of character which have ever collided 
 in life the phlegmatic and the impassioned. 
 
 " What, I pray you, is the reason of your 
 conduct yesterday in the precincts ? " asked 
 the Prince at once after formally acknow- 
 ledging Claverhouse's reverence. " I am 
 informed upon good evidence that you 
 wantonly insulted Lieutenant-Colonel Mac- 
 Kay of the Scots Brigade, and that you 
 invited him to a duel, and that when he, 
 as became an officer of judgment and piety, 
 as well as of high courage, declined to join 
 with you in a foolish and illegal act, that 
 you called him a coward. Have I been 
 rightly informed ? " 
 
 " You have, sir."
 
 70 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 " Then that point is settled as I expected, 
 and in order that you may not make any 
 mistake on this matter I will add, though I 
 am not obliged to do so, that Colonel 
 MacKay did not condescend to inform 
 against you. The scandal was public enough 
 to come from various quarters. And now 
 to my chief question, have you anything to 
 say in your defence ? " 
 
 " Nothing, sir," replied Claverhouse. " I 
 judged that Colonel MacKay had done me 
 a personal injury for which I desired satis- 
 faction in the way that gentlemen give. 
 He has a prudent dislike to risk his life, 
 although I endeavoured to quicken his 
 spirit. And so I allowed him to know what 
 I thought of him, and some officers who 
 overheard our conversation seemed to have 
 been so much pleased with my judgment 
 that they carried it round the army. In 
 this way I presume it came to your High- 
 ness's ears. That is all," concluded Graham 
 with much sweetness of manner, " that I 
 have to say." 
 
 " It is what you ought to be ashamed to 
 say, Mr. Graham," said William severely. 
 " Neither of us is an old man, but I take it 
 you are older than I am "
 
 A CHANGE OF MASTERS 71 
 
 " I am twenty-six years of age, may it 
 please your Highness," interpolated Claver- 
 house, " and have served in two armies." 
 
 " We are, at any rate, old enough not to 
 play the fool or carry ourselves like head- 
 strong boys. As regards your quarrel, I am 
 given to understand that the cause lies not 
 so much with your fellow-officer as with 
 your general. You are one of that large 
 company who can be found in all armies, 
 who are disappointed because, in their judg- 
 ment, promotion has not corresponded with 
 their merits. Be good enough to say if I 
 do you an injustice ? You are silent, then 
 1 am right. And so, because another officer 
 was promoted before you, you choose to 
 take offence and try to put shame upon a 
 gallant gentleman. Is this" the Prince 
 inquired with a flavour of contempt " how 
 well-born Scots 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 
 park yester-morning, I had not disputed 
 with Colonel MacKay. It still seems to
 
 72 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 me that he has been treated with over-much 
 kindness in this matter of promotion, in 
 which it may be their foolishness soldiers 
 are apt to be jealous, and I have been in 
 some degree neglected. But I most frankly 
 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 
 resented this quarrel." 
 
 " What mean you by this word, for it 
 has an evil sound ? " But there was not 
 a flush on William's pale, immovable face, 
 and it was marvellous to see so young a 
 Prince carry himself so quietly under the 
 polite scorn of Claverhouse's manner and 
 the rising insolence of his speech. 
 
 " As your Highness insists, it is my pleas- 
 ure to make my poor meaning plain in your 
 Highness's ears. If I know what happened, 
 Colonel Mac Kay, reaching the highest quar- 
 ter by the back stair, persuaded your High- 
 ness to give him the colonelcy, although it 
 in honour belonged to another officer, and I 
 submit to your Highness's judgment that 
 it was you who should have flicked him 
 with your cane. Colonel MacKay has done 
 John Graham of Claverhouse less injury in 
 disappointing him of his regiment, though
 
 it has been a grievous dash, than in inducing 
 your Highness to break your promise." 
 And Claverhouse, whose last word had 
 fallen in smoothness like honey from the 
 comb, and in venom like the poison of a 
 serpent, looked the Prince straight in the 
 face and then bowed most lowly. 
 
 " You are, I judge, Captain Graham, 
 recalling a certain happening at the Battle 
 of Seneffe, when you rendered important 
 service to me, and it 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 the place you coveted, 
 then understand that you are wrong, and 
 that with all your twenty-six years and your 
 service in two armies, you are ignorant of 
 the principle on which an army should be 
 regulated. Upon your way of it, if any 
 young officer, more raw in character than in 
 years, and not yet able to rule his own spirit, 
 or to keep himself from quarrelling like a 
 common soldier, should happen to be of use 
 in a strait I acknowledge the strait to a 
 king, his foolishness should be placed in 
 command of veteran officers and men. It 
 were right to recompense him at the cost 
 of the Prince, mayhap, but not at the cost
 
 74 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 of gallant soldiers whom he was unfit to- 
 govern, because he could not govern him- 
 self." 
 
 Whether William was angry at Claver- 
 house's impertinence, or was no more 
 touched than the cliff by the spray from a 
 wave, only his intimates could have told, 
 but in this conflict between the two tem- 
 peraments, the Prince was in the end an 
 easy victor. If William had no boiling 
 point, Claverhouse, though as composed in 
 manner as he was afterwards to be cruel in 
 action, had limits to his self-restraint. As 
 the Prince suggested that, though two years 
 older than himself, he was a shallow-pated 
 and self-conceited boy, who was ever look- 
 ing after his own ends, and when he was 
 disappointed, kicked and struggled like a 
 child fighting with its nurse ; that, in fact^ 
 in spite of thinking himself a fine gentleman, 
 he ought to know that he had neither sense 
 nor manners, and was as yet unfit for any 
 high place, Claverhouse's temper gave way, 
 and he struck with cutting words at the 
 Prince. 
 
 " What I intended to have said, but my 
 blundering speech may not have reached 
 your Highness's mind, is that if a Prince
 
 A CHANGE OF MASTERS 75 
 
 makes a promise of reward 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. And there is 
 a debt due by your Highness to a certain 
 Scots officer which has 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 you leave my presence. For 
 brawling and striking within our grounds, 
 you are in danger of losing your right arm, 
 and other men have been so punished for 
 more excusable doings. You have been 
 complaining in a public place that you have 
 not obtained a regiment, as if it were your 
 due, and you have charged your general with 
 the worst of military sins after cowardice, of 
 being a favourer. I bestow upon you what 
 will be more valuable to you than a regiment 
 which you have not the capacity to com- 
 mand. I give you back your right arm, 
 and I release you from the service of my 
 army." 
 
 " May I ask your Highness to accept my 
 most humble and profound gratitude for
 
 sparing my arm, which has fought for your 
 Highness, and if it be possible, yet deeper 
 gratitude for releasing me from the service 
 of a Prince who does not know how to keep 
 his word. Have I your Highness's permis- 
 sion to leave your presence, and to make 
 arrangements for my departure from The 
 Hague ? " 
 
 Claverhouse spoke with an exaggerated 
 accent of respect, but the words were so 
 stinging that William's eyes, for an instant 
 only, flashed fire, and the aide-de-camp in 
 the room made a step forward as if to arrest 
 the Scots officer. There was a pause of 
 a few seconds, which seemed an hour, 
 and then the Prince ordered his aide-de- 
 camp to leave the chamber, and William 
 and Claverhouse stood alone. 
 
 " You are a bold man, Mr. Graham," said 
 the Prince icily, " and I should not judge 
 you to be a wise one. It is not likely that 
 you will ever be as prudent as you are 
 daring, and I foresee a troubled career, 
 whether it 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 
 one will ever do so. You are well aware
 
 that for what you have said any other 
 Prince in my place would have you punished 
 for the gravest of crimes on the part of an 
 officer against his commander." 
 
 Claverhouse bowed, and looked curiously 
 at the Prince, wondering within himself 
 what would follow. Was it possible that his 
 Highness would lay aside for an hour the 
 privilege of royalty and give him satisfaction ? 
 Or was he merely to lecture him like the 
 Calvinistic preachers to whom his Highness 
 listened, and then let him go with contempt ? 
 Claverhouse's indignation had now given 
 w r ay to intellectual interest, and he waited 
 for the decision of this strong, calm man, 
 who, though only little more than a lad, had 
 already the coolness and dignity of old age. 
 
 " Were I not a Prince, and were my 
 creed of honour different from what it is, I 
 should lay aside my Princedom, and meet 
 you sword in hand, for I also, though you 
 may not believe it, have the pride of a 
 soldier, and it has been outraged by your 
 deliberate insolence. Whether it was worthy 
 of your courtesy to offer an insult to one 
 who cannot defend himself, I shall leave to 
 your own arbitrament, when you bethink 
 yourself in other hours of this situation. I
 
 78 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 pray you be silent, I have not finished. My 
 intention is to treat your words as if they 
 had never been spoken. The officer in 
 attendance has learned better than to blaze 
 abroad anything that happens in this place, 
 and you will do as it pleases yourself, and is 
 becoming to your honour as a gentleman. 
 I have no fear of you. You are a brave 
 man whatever else you be ; you will do me 
 the justice of believing 1 am another." 
 Claverhouse afterwards remembered that 
 this was the first moment that he had felt 
 any kindness to the Prince of Orange. 
 
 " My reason for dealing with you after 
 this fashion is that you have some cause to 
 complain of injustice, and to think that the 
 good help you gave has been forgotten, 
 because I have not said anything nor done 
 anything. This is not so, but I have not 
 been certain how I could best recompense 
 you. When a moment ago I spoke of you 
 as not fit for promotion, 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 command some day." The last 
 few words were spoken with a slight 
 effort, and Graham, in his better mood the 
 most magnanimous of men, was suddenly
 
 touched by the remembrance of the Prince's 
 station and ability, his courage and severity, 
 and his grace in making this amend to one 
 who had spoken rudely to him. Claver- 
 house 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 any commander will 
 be glad to enroll for life service in his army, 
 but " and here his Highness looked search- 
 ingly at Graham as he had once done before 
 " I doubt whether your calling be in the 
 Dutch army or in any army that is of our 
 mind or is likely to fight for our cause. 
 
 " It is not given to man to lift the veil 
 that hides the future, but we can reason with 
 ourselves as to what is likely, and guide our 
 course by this faint light. I have advices 
 from Scotland, and I know that the day 
 will come, though it may not be yet, when 
 there will be a great division in that land 
 and the shedding of blood. Were you and 
 I both in your country when that day comes, 
 you, Mr. Graham, would draw your sword 
 on one side and I on the other. 
 
 " We may never cross one another in the 
 unknown days, but each man must be true 
 to the light which God has given him.
 
 80 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 Colonel Mac Kay will fulfil his calling in 
 our army and on our side ; in some other 
 army and for another side you will follow 
 your destiny. It is seldom I speak at such 
 length ; now I have only one other word to 
 say before I give you for the day farewell. 
 
 " Mr. Graham, I know what you think of 
 me as clearly as if you had spoken. 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 be a loyal 
 servant to your own cause, and it will be 
 beaten. To you I owe my life. Possibly 
 it might have been better for you to have 
 let me fall by the sword of one of Conde's 
 dragoons, but we are all in the hands of the 
 Eternal, Who doeth what He wills with 
 each man. You will receive to-day a 
 captain's commission in the cavalry, and in 
 some day to come, I do not know how soon, 
 and in a way I may not at present reveal to 
 you, I will, if God please, do a kindness to 
 you which will be after your own heart, and 
 enable you to rise to your own height in 
 the great affair of life. I bid you good- 
 morning." 
 
 Few men were ever to hear the Prince of 
 Orange use as many words or give as much
 
 A CHANGE OF MASTERS 81 
 
 of his mind. As Claverhouse realised his 
 fairness and understood, although only a 
 little, then, of his foresight, and as he came 
 to appreciate the fact that the Prince was 
 trying to do something more lasting for him 
 than merely conferring a commission, he was 
 overwhelmed with a sense of the injustice 
 he had done his Highness. He also realised 
 his own petulance with intense shame. 
 
 " Will your Highness forgive my wild 
 words, for which I might have been justly 
 punished" Graham, with an impulse of 
 emotion, stepped forward, knelt down, and 
 kissed the Prince's hand " and the shame 
 I put upon a Scots gentleman, for which I 
 shall apologise this very day. My sword is 
 at your Highness's disposal while I am in 
 your service and this arm is able to use it. 
 If in any day to come it be my fate to stand 
 on some other side, I shall not forget I once 
 served under a great commander and a most 
 honourable gentleman, who dealt graciously 
 with me." 
 
 Two years passed during which Captain 
 Graham saw much fighting and many of his 
 fellow-officers fall, and it was in keeping 
 with the character of the Prince that during 
 all that time he took no special notice of 
 
 6
 
 Claverhouse, and gave no indication that he 
 had that interview in mind. Claverhouse 
 had learned one lesson, however patience 
 and he would have many more to learn ; he 
 had also been taught not to take hasty 
 views, but to wait for the long result. And 
 his heart lifted when, after the abortive siege 
 of Charleroi, he was summoned for a second 
 time to the Prince's presence. On this oc- 
 casion 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 same frozen face, " I 
 leave for London. I may not speak about 
 my errand nor other things which may hap- 
 pen, but if it be your will, I shall take you 
 in attendance upon me. At the English 
 court I may be able to give you an intro- 
 duction which will place you in the way of 
 service such as you desire, and if it be the 
 will of God, high honour. For this oppor- 
 tunity, which 1 thought might come some 
 day, I have been waiting, and if it be as I 
 expect, you will have some poor reward for 
 saving the life of the Prince of Orange." 
 
 It was known by this time in the army, 
 and, indeed, throughout Europe, that Wil-
 
 A CHANGE OF MASTERS 83 
 
 liam of Orange was going to wed the Prin- 
 cess Mary, who was the daughter of the 
 Duke of York, the King of England's 
 brother, and likely to be herself the daughter 
 of an English sovereign. For certain 
 reasons it seemed an unlikely and incon- 
 gruous alliance, for even in the end of 1677, 
 when the marriage took place, any one with 
 prescience could foresee that there would be 
 a wide rift between the politics of the Duke 
 of York when he became King and those of 
 William, and even then there must have been 
 some who saw afar off the conflict which 
 ended in William and Mary succeeding James 
 upon the throne of England. There were 
 many envied Claverhouse when it came out 
 that he was to be a member of the Prince's 
 suite, and be associated with the Prince's 
 most distinguished courtiers. But he carried 
 himself, upon the whole, with such gracious- 
 ness and gallantry that his brother offi cers 
 congratulated him on every hand, and feast- 
 ed him so lavishly before he left that certain 
 of his own comrades of the Prince's guard 
 were laid aside from duty for several days. 
 
 It was to the credit of both men that on 
 the morning of Graham's departure one of his 
 last visitors was Colonel MacKay, who wished
 
 84 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 him success, and prophesied that they would 
 hear great things of him in days to come, 
 since it was understood that Claverhouse 
 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 arrangements 
 for his marriage. Claverhouse by this time 
 had learned, however, that William forgot 
 nothing and never failed to carry out his 
 plans, and his pulse beat quicker when the 
 Prince requested him to be in attendance 
 one afternoon, and to accompany him alone 
 to Whitehall, where the Duke of York was 
 in residence. There was a certain superficial 
 likeness in character between the Prince 
 and his father-in-law, for both appeared 
 unfeeling and unsympathetic men, but 
 what in James was obstinacy, in William was 
 power, and what in James was superstition, 
 in William was religion, and what in James 
 was pride, in William was dignity. His 
 friends could trust William, but no one 
 could trust James ; while William could 
 make immense sacrifices for his cause, James 
 could wreck his cause by amazing blindness
 
 and a foolish grasping at the shadow of 
 power. If any one desired a master under 
 whom he would be led to victory, and by 
 whom he would never be put to shame, a 
 master who might not praise him effusively 
 but would never 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 to choose his creed, far less 
 his destiny, and Claverhouse was never to 
 have fortune on his side. It was to be his 
 lot rather to be hindered at every turn 
 where he should have been helped, and to 
 run his race alone with many weights and 
 over the roughest ground. 
 
 "Your Highness has of your courtesy 
 allowed me to present in public audience the 
 officers who have come with me from The 
 Hague," said the Prince of Orange to James, 
 " and now I have the pleasure to introduce 
 specially this gentleman who was lately a 
 captain in my cavalry, and who some while 
 ago rendered me the last service one man can 
 do for another. Had it not been for his 
 presence of mind and bravery of action, I 
 had not the supreme honour of waiting to- 
 day upon your Highness, and the prospect of 
 felicity before me. May I, with the utmost
 
 86 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 zeal towards him and the most profound re- 
 spect towards your Highness, recommend to 
 your service Mr. Graham of Claverhouse, 
 who distinguished himself on many fields of 
 battle, and who is a fine gentleman and a 
 brave officer fit for any post, civil or military. 
 I will only say one thing more : he belongs 
 to the same house as the Marquis of Mont- 
 rose, and has in him the same spirit of 
 loyalty." 
 
 Claverhouse, overcome by the remem- 
 brance of the past, and stirred to the heart, 
 could hardly make his reverence for emotion, 
 As he kissed James's hand he registered a vow 
 which he was to keep with his life. And 
 when he left the presence of the Duke, 
 the Prince of Orange said to Claverhouse's 
 new master : " You have, sir, obtained a 
 servant who will be faithful unto death ; I 
 make him over to you with confidence and 
 with regret. This day, I believe, he will 
 begin the work to which he has been called, 
 and so far as a man can, he will finish it."
 
 BOOK II 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A COVENANTING HOUSE 
 
 THE glory of Paisley Castle has long depart- 
 ed, but it was a brave and well-furnished 
 house in the late spring of 1684, to which 
 this story now moves. The primroses were 
 blooming in sheltered nooks, where the keen 
 east wind the curse and the strength of 
 Scotland could not blight them, and the 
 sun had them for his wooing ; there were 
 signs of foliage on the trees as the buds 
 began to burgeon, and send a shimmer of 
 green along the branches ; the grass, reviving 
 after winter, was showing its first freshness, 
 and the bare earth took a softer colour in 
 the caressing sunlight. The birds had taken 
 heart again and were seeking for their mates, 
 some were already building their summer 
 homes. Life is one throughout the world, 
 
 87
 
 and the stirring of spring in the roots of the 
 grass and in the trunks of the trees touches 
 also human hearts and wakes them from 
 their winter. The season of hope, which 
 was softening the clods of the field, and 
 gentling the rough massive walls of the 
 castle, were also making tender the austere 
 face of a Covenanting minister standing in 
 one of the deep window recesses of what was 
 called in Scots houses of that day the gallery, 
 and what was a long and magnificent upper 
 hall, adorned with arms and tapestry. He was 
 looking out upon the woods that stretched 
 to the silver water of the Clyde, then a 
 narrow and undeveloped river, and to the 
 far-away hills 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 
 up amid what the Covenanters called malig- 
 nant surroundings, and he had been taught 
 to regard the Marquis of Montrose as the 
 first of Scotsmen and the most heroic of 
 martyrs. Although the senior of Claver- 
 house by two years, he had been with him 
 at St. Andrew's University, and knew him 
 well, but in spite of his heredity Pollock had
 
 A COVENANTING HOUSE 89 
 
 ever carried a more open mind than Graham. 
 During his university days he had heard the 
 saint and scholar of the Covenant, Samuel 
 Rutherford, who was principal and professor 
 in the university and a most distinguished 
 preacher of his day in Scotland. No doubt 
 Rutherford raged furiously against prelacy 
 as a work of the devil, and the enemy of 
 Scots freedom ; no doubt he also wrote books 
 which struck hard at the authority of the 
 King, and made for the cause of the people. 
 His name was a reproach among Pollock's 
 friends, and Pollock began with no sympathy 
 towards Rutherford's opinions ; but the 
 lad's soul was stirred when, in the college 
 chapel of St. Andrew's and also in the parish 
 kirk where Rutherford was colleague with 
 that servant of the Lord Mr. Blair, he 
 listened to Rutherford upon the love of God 
 and the loveliness of Christ. One day he 
 was present, standing obscure among a mass 
 of townsfolk, when Rutherford, after making 
 a tedious argument on the controversies of 
 the day which had almost driven Pollock 
 from the Kirk, came across the name of 
 Christ and then, carried away out of his 
 course as by a magnet, began to rehearse the 
 titles of the Lord Jesus till a Scots noble
 
 90 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 seated in the kirk cried out, " Hold you 
 there, Rutherford." And Pollock was 
 tempted to say " Amen." With his side he 
 resented the Covenanting regime, because it 
 frowned on gaiety and enforced the hateful 
 Covenant, but even then the lad wished that 
 his side had preachers to be compared with 
 Rutherford and Blair, and the words of 
 Rutherford lay hidden in his heart. When 
 the Restoration came he flung up his cap 
 with the rest of them, and drank only too 
 many healths to King Charles. For a while 
 he was intoxicated with the triumph of the 
 Restoration, but there was a vein of serious- 
 ness in him as well as candour, and as the 
 years passed and the people were still drink- 
 ing, and as the tyranny of Cromwell gave 
 place to the brutality of the infamous crew, 
 Lauderdale, the renegade, and others, who 
 misruled Scotland in the name of the King, 
 Pollock was much shaken, and began to 
 wonder within himself whether the Presby- 
 terians, with all their bigotry, may not have 
 had the right of it. If they did not dance 
 and drink they prayed and led God-fearing 
 lives, and if they would not be driven to hear 
 the curates preach, there was not too much 
 to hear if they had gone. When the Cove-
 
 A COVENANTING HOUSE 91 
 
 nant was the symbol of oppression, Pollock 
 hated it, when it became the symbol for 
 suffering he was drawn to it, till at last, to 
 the horror of his family, he threw in his lot 
 with the Covenanters of the west of Scotland. 
 Being a lad of parts with competent scholar- 
 ship, and having given every pledge of sin- 
 cerity, he was studying theology in Holland 
 while Claverhouse was fighting in the army 
 of the Prince, and he was there ordained to 
 the ministry of the Kirk. When a man has 
 passed through so thorough a change, and 
 sacrificed everything which is most dear for 
 his convictions, he is certain to be a root and 
 branch man, and to fling himself without 
 reserve, perhaps also, alas, without moder- 
 ation, into the service of his new cause. 
 Pollock was not of that party in the Kirk 
 which was willing to take an indulgence 
 at the hands of the government and minister 
 quietly in their parishes, on condition that 
 they gave no trouble to the bishops. He 
 would take no oaths and sign no agreements, 
 nor make any compromise, nor bow down to 
 any persecutor. He threw in his lot with the 
 wild hillmen, w r ho were being hunted like 
 wild birds upon the mountains by Claver- 
 house's cavalry ; and as he wandered from
 
 92 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 one hiding-place to another, he preached to 
 them in picturesque conventicles, which 
 gathered in the cathedral of the Ayrshire 
 hills, and built them up in the faith of God 
 and of the Covenant. Like Rutherford, who 
 had been to him what St. Stephen was to St. 
 Paul, he was that strange mixture of fierce- 
 ness and of tenderness which Scots piety has 
 often bred, and chiefly in its dark days. He 
 was not afraid to pursue the doctrine of Cal- 
 vin to its furthest extreme, and would glorify 
 God in the death of sinners till even the stern 
 souls of his congregation trembled. Nor was 
 he afraid to defend resistance to an unjust 
 and ungodly government, and he was willing 
 to fight himself almost as much, though not 
 quite, as to pray. 
 
 But even the gloomiest and bitterest bigots 
 that heard him, huddled in some deep morass 
 and encircled by the cold mist, testified that 
 Henry Pollock was greatest when he de- 
 clared the evangel of Jesus, and besought 
 his hearers, who might before nightfall be 
 sent by a bloody death into eternity, to 
 accept Christ as their Saviour. When he 
 celebrated the sacrament amid the hills, 
 and lifted up the emblems of the Lord's body 
 and blood, his voice broken with passion,
 
 A COVENANTING HOUSE 98 
 
 and the tears rolling down his cheeks, they 
 said that his face was like that of an angel. 
 Times without number he had been chased 
 on the moors ; often he had been hidden 
 cunningly in shepherds' cottages, twice he 
 had eluded the dragoons by immersing him- 
 self in peat-bogs, and once he had been 
 wounded. His face could never at any time 
 have been otherwise than refined and spiritual,, 
 but now it was that of an ascetic, \vorn by 
 prayer and fasting, while his dark blue eyes 
 glowed when he was moved like coals of 
 fire, and the golden hair upon his head, 
 as the sun touched it, was like unto an 
 aureole. Standing in the embrasure of that 
 gallery, which had so many signs of the 
 world which is, in the pictures of sport 
 upon the walls and the stands of arms, he 
 seemed to be rather the messenger and 
 forerunner of the world which is to come. 
 As he looks out upon the fair spring view,, 
 he is settling something with his conscience, 
 and is half praying, half meditating, for,, 
 in his lonely vigils, with no company but 
 the curlew and the sheep, he has fallen 
 upon the way of speaking aloud. 
 
 " There be those who are called to live 
 alone and to serve the Lord night and day
 
 94 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 in the high places of the field, like Elijah, 
 who was that prophet, and John the Baptist, 
 who ran before the face of the Lord. If 
 this be Thy will for me, O God, I am 
 also willing, and Thou knowest that mine 
 is a lonely life, and that I bear in my body 
 the marks of the Lord Jesus. If this be 
 my calling, make Thy way plain before Thy 
 servant, and give me grace to walk therein 
 with a steadfast heart. He that forsaketh 
 not father and mother . . . and wife for 
 His name's sake, is not worthy." And 
 then a change came over his mood. 
 
 " But the Master came not like the Bap- 
 tist ; He came eating and drinking ; yea, 
 He went unto the marriage of Cana in 
 Galilee, and He blessed little children and 
 said, 'For of such is the Kingdom of God.' 
 Thou knowest, Lord, that I have loved 
 Thy children, and when a bairn has smiled 
 in my face as I baptized it into Thy names, 
 that I have longed for one that would call 
 me father. When I have seen a man and 
 his wife together by the fireside, and I have 
 gone out to my hiding-place on the moor, 
 like a wild beast to its den, I confess, O 
 Lord, I have watched that square of light 
 so long as I could see it, and have wondered
 
 A COVENANTING HOUSE 95 
 
 whether there would ever be a home for me, 
 and any woman would call me husband. 
 Is this the weakness of the flesh ; is this the 
 longing of the creature for comfort ; is this 
 the refusing of the cross ; is this my sin ? 
 Search me, O God, and try me." And 
 again the gentler mood returned. " Didst 
 Thou not set the woman beside the man 
 in the Garden ? Has not the love of Jacob 
 for Rachel been glorified in Thy word ? 
 Art not Thou Thyself the bridegroom, and 
 is not the Kirk Thy bride ? Are we not 
 called to the marriage supper of the Lamb ? 
 Is not marriage Thine own ordinance, and 
 shall I count that unclean, as certain vain 
 persons have imagined, which Thou hast 
 established ? O 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 sign 
 that I may know what Thou wouldst have 
 me to do, that it may be well for Thy 
 cause in the land, and the souls of Thy 
 servants committed to my charge." 
 
 He is unconscious of everything except 
 the agony of duty through which he is 
 passing, and his words, though spoken flow, 
 have a sweet and penetrating note, which
 
 96 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 arrest the attention of one who has come 
 down the gallery, and is now standing at 
 the opening of the alcove where Pollock is 
 hidden. It is his hostess, the widow of Lord 
 Cochrane, the eldest son of the Earl of 
 Dundonald, who was still living, though 
 old and feeble, and who left the management 
 of affairs very much to Lady Cochrane. 
 Like many other families in the days of 
 the " Troubles," the Cochranes was a house 
 divided against itself, although till now the 
 strength had been all on one side. Lord 
 Dundonald had been a loyal adherent of 
 the Stuarts, and had rendered them service 
 in earlier days, for which it was understood 
 he had received his earldom ; but he was 
 a broken man now, and had no strength 
 in him to resist his masterful daughter-in- 
 law. She was a child of the Earl of Cassilis, 
 one of the stoutest and most thoroughgoing 
 of Covenanters ; her husband had died in 
 the year when the Battle of Bothwell-Brig 
 had been fought, and his last prayers were 
 for the success of the Covenanters. His 
 younger brother had been one of the Rye 
 House Plot men, and was now an exile 
 for the safety of his life in Holland. By 
 her blood and by her sympathy, by every-
 
 A COVENANTING HOUSE 97 
 
 thing she thought and felt, Lady Cochrane 
 was a Covenanter, and in her face and 
 figure, as she stands with the light from 
 the window falling upon her, she symbolises 
 her cause and party. Tall and strong-boned, 
 with a lean, powerful face, and clear, un- 
 relenting eyes, yet with a latent suggestion 
 of enthusiasm which would move her to 
 any sacrifice for what she judged to be 
 righteousness, and with an honest belief 
 in her religious creed, Lady Cochrane was 
 one of the godly women of the Covenant. 
 The old earl had no chance against her 
 resolute will, and contented himself with 
 a quavering protest against her ideas, and 
 bleating disapproval of her actions. When 
 she denounced the Council as a set of 
 Herods, and filled the house with Covenant- 
 ing ministers and outlawed persons, his 
 only comfort and sympathiser w r as Lady 
 Cochrane's daughter Jean. This young 
 woman had of late taken on herself the 
 office of protector, and had shown a ten- 
 dency to criticise both her mother's words 
 and ways, which led to one or two domestic 
 scenes. For though her ladyship was loud 
 against the tyranny of the government, 
 she was an absolute ruler in her own home. 
 
 7
 
 98 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 And that day she was going to assert her- 
 self and put down an incipient rebellion. 
 
 " I give you good-morning, Mr. Pollock," 
 said Lady Cochrane, " and I crave your 
 pardon if I have done amiss, but since you 
 were, as I take it, wrestling in prayer I had 
 not the mind to break in upon you ; I have 
 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, that God indeed is giving a sign 
 of approval when He seems to have been 
 turning your heart unto the thought of the 
 marriage between the bridegroom and the 
 bride in the Holy Scriptures, of which other 
 marriages are, I take it, a shadow and a 
 foretaste." 
 
 " It may be your ladyship is right," said 
 Pollock after he had returned his hostess's 
 greeting, ** but we shall soon know, for God 
 hath promised that light shall arise unto the 
 righteous. For myself, I declare that as 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 
 round like a thin garment ; here and there 
 I see the light struggling through, and it 
 seems to me most beautiful even in its
 
 A COVENANTING HOUSE 99 
 
 dimness ; by-and-by 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 myself at Cana of Galilee or 
 in the Garden of Gethsemane, I know not." 
 
 " If it were in my handling," said Lady 
 Cochrane, regarding her guest with a mixed 
 expression of admiration and pity, " ye 
 would find yourself, and that without over- 
 much delay, at a marriage feast. The 
 dispensation of John Baptist is done with 
 in my humble judgment, and I count the 
 refusing to marry to be pure will-worship 
 and a soul-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, with fewer dreams and more 
 sense for daily duty, besides being more 
 comfortable, if you had a wife. Doubtless 
 the days are evil, and there be those who 
 would say that this is not a time to marry, 
 but if you had the right wife it is no unlikely 
 ye might be safer than ye are to-day. For 
 there would be a big house to hide you, and, 
 at the worst, you and she could make your 
 ways to Holland, and get shelter from 
 the Prince till those calamities be overpast. 
 
 " My fear," continued her ladyship, " is
 
 100 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 not that ye will do wrong in marrying, but 
 that ye may fail to win the wife ye told me 
 yesterday was your desire. No, Mr. Henry, 
 it is not that I am not with you, for I am 
 a favourer of your suit. In those days 
 when the call is for every one to say whether 
 he be for God or Baal, I would rather see 
 my daughter married to a faithful minister 
 of the Kirk, than to the proudest 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 to the Cochranes, 
 and the most of the nobles he has made 
 have been the sons of his mistresses. There 
 will soon be more disgrace than honour in 
 being called a lord in the land of England." 
 
 " It may be," hazarded Pollock anxiously, 
 " that the earl then does not look on me 
 with pleasure, and as the head of the 
 house 
 
 " As what ? " said Lady Cochrane. " It 
 is not much his lordship has to say on 
 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 dispensa-
 
 A COVENANTING HOUSE 101 
 
 tion of Providence, for if the misguided man 
 had his way of it, Jean would be married 
 to-morrow to some drinking, swearing officer 
 in Claverhouse's Horse, or, for that matter, 
 to that son of Satan, Claverhouse himself. 
 
 " While I am here," continued this Cove- 
 nanting heroine, " you need not trouble 
 yourself about the Earl of Dundonald, but 
 1 cannot speak so surely for my daughter. 
 Jean's name was inserted in the Covenant, 
 and she has been taught the truth by my 
 own lips, besides hearing many godly 
 ministers, but I sorely doubt whether she 
 be steadfast and single-hearted. It was 
 only two days ago she lent her aid to her 
 grandfather when he was havering about 
 toleration, and before all was done she spoke 
 lightly of the contendings of God's remnant 
 in this land, and said that if they had the 
 upper hand Scotland would not be fit to 
 live in. So far as I can see she has no 
 ill-will to you, Mr. Henry, and has never 
 said aught against you. Nay, more, I 
 recall her speaking well of your goodness, 
 but whether she will consent unto your 
 plea I cannot prophesy. Where she got 
 her proud temper and her stubborn self-will 
 passes my mind, for her father was an
 
 102 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 exercised Christian and a douce man, and 
 there never was a word of contradiction 
 from him all the days of our married life. 
 It may be the judgment of the Lord for 
 the sins of the land, that the children are 
 raising themselves against their parents. Be 
 that as it may, I have done my best for 
 you, and now I will send her to the 
 gallery and ye must make your own suit. 
 I pray God her heart may be turned unto 
 
 you."* 
 
 When the daughter came down the middle 
 of the gallery, with an easy and graceful 
 carriage, it would seem as if the mother had 
 returned, more beautiful and more gentle, 
 yet quite as strong and determined. Jean 
 Cochrane whose proper style as a lord's 
 daughter would be the Honourable Jean, 
 but who, partly because she was an 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 its healthy tone and fine colouring ; she had 
 a wealth of the most rich and radiant auburn 
 hair, somewhat like that of Pollock, but
 
 A COVENANTING HOUSE 103 
 
 redder and more commanding to the eye ; 
 her eyes were sometimes grey and sometimes 
 blue, according to their expression, which 
 was ever changing with her varying moods. 
 This is no girl of timid or yielding nature 
 who can be coaxed or driven, or of clinging 
 and meek affection. This is a woman full 
 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 the mate for a patriot, in which case 
 she would be ready to accompany him to 
 the scaffold, or for a soldier, in which case 
 she would send him to his death with a 
 proud heart. Her mobile face, as flexible as 
 that of a supreme actress, is set and hard 
 when she enters the gallery, for she and her 
 mother had just crossed swords, and Lady 
 Jean knew for what end she had been asked 
 to meet the Covenanter. Lady Cochrane 
 was an unhappy advocate for such a plea, 
 and with such a daughter, although she 
 might have been successful with a helpless 
 and submissive girl. With that look in her 
 eyes, w r hich are as cold as steel and have its 
 glitter, one could not augur success for any 
 wooer. It was a tribute not so much to the 
 appearance of Pollock as to the soul of the
 
 104 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 man shining through his face in most persua- 
 sive purity and sincerity, that when they met 
 and turned aside into that window space and 
 stood in the spring sunlight, her face softened 
 towards him. The pride of her carriage 
 seemed to relax, and the offence went out of 
 her eyes, and she gave him a gracious greet- 
 ing and no woman, if she had a mind, could 
 be more ingratiating. Then, still standing, 
 which suited her best, and looking at him 
 with not unfriendly gravity, she waited for 
 what he had to say. 
 
 " Lady Jean," he began, " your honourable 
 mother has told you for what end I desired 
 speech with you this day, and I ask you to 
 give me a fair hearing of your kindness, for 
 though I have been called of God to declare 
 His word before many people, I have no 
 skill in the business to which I now address 
 myself. In this matter of love between 
 a man and 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 better understanding of my 
 case, that I began my life in the faith of my 
 family, and that I came into the Covenant 
 after I was a man. I was called, as I trust 
 of God, unto the ministry of the Evangel,
 
 A COVENANTING HOUSE 105 
 
 and I have exercised it not in quiet places, 
 but in the service of God's people who are 
 scattered and peeled among the hills. It 
 seemed therefore of my calling that I should 
 live as a Nazarite and die alone, having 
 known neither wife nor child, and indeed 
 this may be my lot." Having said so much, 
 as he looked not at the girl but out of the 
 window, he now turned upon her his face, 
 which, always pale, began now 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 to time upon the 
 errands of my master or sheltering from my 
 pursuers I have 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 of the mountain 
 birds, and saw your face with your burning 
 hair in the glory 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 me came ever to my 
 sight. Was not this, I said to myself, the 
 guidance of the Lord in Whose hands are the 
 hearts of men, and Who did cause Isaac to 
 cleave to Rebecca ? But, again, might it not
 
 106 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 be that I was turning from the way of the 
 cross and following the desires of my own 
 heart ? I prayed for some token, and fourteen 
 days ago this word in the Song of Solomon 
 came unto me, and was laid upon my heart, 
 ' Behold, thou art fair, my love ; behold, thou 
 art fair ; thou hast doves' eyes within thy 
 locks : 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 will hang the issue of my after 
 life." His eyes had begun to shine with 
 mystic tenderness and yearning appeal, so 
 that she, who had been looking away 
 from him, could not now withdraw her 
 gaze. 
 
 " Is there in your heart any kindness and 
 confidence towards me, and have you been 
 moved to think of me as one whom you 
 could wed and whose life you could share ? 
 It is not to wealth nor to honour, it is not to 
 ease and safety that I invite you, Lady Jean ; 
 you must be prepared to see me suffer, and 
 you must be willing that I should die. 
 What I could do to protect and cherish you, 
 if God gave you to me, I should, and next 
 to the Lord Who redeemed me, you would 
 be the love of my heart in time and also in
 
 A COVENANTING HOUSE 107 
 
 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 not after this fashion 
 that a Cavalier would have spoken to his 
 ladylove, but his words were in keeping with 
 the man, and streamed from the light of his 
 eyes rather than from his lips. And the girl, 
 who had come to say no as briefly and firmly 
 as might be consistent with courtesy, was 
 touched in the deepest part of her being, and 
 for the moment almost hesitated. 
 
 " Ye have done me the chief honour a man 
 can offer to a woman, Mr. Pollock, and Jean 
 Cochrane will never forget that ye asked her 
 in marriage. It cannot be, and it is better 
 that I should say this without delay or un- 
 certain speech, but I pray you, Mr. Henry, 
 understand why, and think me not a proud 
 or foolish girl. It is not that I do not know 
 that you are a holy and a brave man, whom 
 the folk rightly consider to be a saint, and 
 whom others say would have made a gallant 
 soldier. It is not that I doubt the woman 
 ye wedded would be well and tenderly loved, 
 for, I confess to you, ye seem to me to have 
 the making of a perfect husband. And it is 
 not that I " and here she straightened her-
 
 108 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 self " would be afraid of any danger, or any 
 suffering either, for myself or you. I should 
 bid it welcome, and if I saw you laid dead 
 for the cause ye love, I should take you in my 
 arms and kiss you on the mouth, though you 
 were red with blood, as I never kissed you 
 living on our marriage day." And she car- 
 ried her head as a queen at the moment of 
 her coronation. 
 
 " No," she went on, while the glow faded 
 and her voice grew gentle ; "it is for two 
 reasons, but one of them I tell you only to 
 yourself, in the secrecy of your honour. I 
 admire and I reverence you as one lifted 
 above me like a saint, but this is not the 
 feeling of a woman for the man that is to be 
 her husband. I do not love you as I know 
 I shall in an instant love the man who is to 
 be my man when I first see him, and for 
 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, but I am dealing with you as a friend 
 this day. Though my name be in the Cove- 
 nant, I am not sure oh, those are dark 
 times whether I would write it to-day with 
 my own hand. I might be able to do so 
 when I was your wife, but that I may not
 
 A COVENANTING HOUSE 109 
 
 be. Yet it is left to me, Mr. Henry, to have 
 your name in my prayers, that God may 
 'keep you in the hard road ye have chosen, 
 and give you in the end a glorious crown. 
 And I will ask of you to mention at a time 
 Jean Cochrane before the throne of grace. 
 For surely ye will be heard, and blessed shall 
 she be for whom ye pray." 
 
 For an instant there was silence, and then, 
 before she left, Lady Jean, as Pollock stood 
 with head sunk on his breast and lips moving 
 in prayer, bent forward and kissed him on 
 the forehead. When an hour later the min- 
 ister descended to Lady Cochrane's room, he 
 told her that his suit was hopeless, but that 
 he was thankful unto God that he had spoken 
 with Lady Jean.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE COMING OF THE AMALEKITE 
 
 IT would have been hard to find within the 
 civilised world a more miserable and dis- 
 tracted country than Scotland at the date 
 of our history, and the West Country was 
 worst of all. The Covenanters, who were 
 never averse to fighting, had turned upon 
 Claverhouse and his dragoons when they 
 came to disperse a field-meeting at Drumclog, 
 and had soundly beaten the King's Horse. 
 Then, gathering themselves to a head and 
 meeting the royal forces under the Duke 
 of Monmouth at Bothwell Bridge, they had 
 in turn been hopelessly crushed. What 
 remained of their army was scattered by 
 the cavalry, and since that day, with some 
 interludes, Claverhouse had been engaged 
 in the inglorious work of dispersing Presby- 
 terian Conventicles gathered in remote 
 places among the hills, or searching the 
 
 no
 
 COMING OF THE AMALEKITE 111 
 
 moss-hags for outlawed preachers. It was 
 a poor business for one who had seen war 
 on the grand scale under the Prince of 
 Orange, and had fought in battles where 
 eighteen thousand men were left on the 
 field. War was not the name for those 
 operations, they were simply police work 
 of an irksome and degrading kind. There 
 were some who said that Claverhouse gloried 
 in it, and that the inherent cruelty of his 
 nature was gratified in causing obstinate 
 Covenanters, who had not taken the oath, 
 to be shot on the spot, and haling others 
 to prison, where they were treated with 
 extreme barbarity. Others believed that 
 being a man of broad mind and chivalrous 
 temper, he absolutely disapproved of the 
 government policy and loathed the butcher 
 work to which he and his troopers were 
 set. 
 
 Upon one way of it he was a bloodthirsty 
 tyrant, and upon the other he was an 
 obedient soldier, but the truth was with 
 neither view. There is no doubt that, like 
 any other ambitious commander, he would 
 much rather have been engaged in a proper 
 campaign, and it may be granted that as 
 a brave man he did not hanker to be the
 
 executioner of peasants ; but he absolutely 
 
 approved of the policy of his rulers, and 
 
 had no scruple in carrying it out. It was 
 
 the only thing that could be done, and it 
 
 had better be done thoroughly; the sooner 
 
 the turbulent and irreconcilable Covenanters 
 
 were crushed and the country reduced to 
 
 peace the better for Scotland. And it 
 
 must be remembered that, though they 
 
 were only a fraction of the nation, the 
 
 hillmen were a very resolute and harassing 
 
 fraction, and kept the western counties in 
 
 a state of turmoil. No week passed without 
 
 some picturesque incident being added to 
 
 the annals of this lamentable religious war, 
 
 and whether it was an escape or an arrest, 
 
 an attack or a defeat, the name of Claver- 
 
 house was always in the story. The air 
 
 was thick with rumours of his doings, and 
 
 in every cottage enraged Covenanters spoke 
 
 of his atrocities. No doubt the King had 
 
 other officers quite as merciless and almost 
 
 as active, and the names of men like Grierson 
 
 of Lag and Bruce of Earleshall and that 
 
 fierce old Muscovite fighter, General Dalziel, 
 
 were engraved for everlasting reprobation 
 
 upon the memory of the Scots people. But 
 
 there was no superstition so mad that it
 
 was not credited to Claverhouse, and no 
 .act so wicked that it was not believed of 
 him. During the hours of day he ranged 
 the country, a monster thirsting for the 
 blood of innocent men, and the hours of 
 the evening he spent with his associates 
 in orgies worthy of hell. His horse, famous 
 for its fleetness and beauty, was supposed 
 to be an evil spirit, and as for himself, every 
 one knew that Claverhouse could not be 
 shot except by a silver bullet, because he 
 was under the protection of the devil. 
 Perhaps it is not too much to say that 
 during those black years black for both 
 sides, and very much so for Claverhouse 
 he was, in the imagination of the country 
 folk, little else than a devil himself, and it 
 was then he earned the title which has 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 which Graham 
 had not visited during those years, it 
 happened that he had never been within 
 Paisley Castle, and that he had never met 
 any of the family except the earl and his 
 aged countess. Lady Cochrane and the 
 Covenanting servants could have given a 
 
 8
 
 thumb-nail sketch of him which would have 
 done for a mediaeval picture of Satan, and 
 an accompanying letter-press of his character 
 which would have been a slander upon 
 Judas Iscariot. Her heroic ladyship had, 
 however, never met Claverhouse, and she 
 prayed God she never would, not because 
 she was afraid of him or of the devil himself, 
 but because she knew it would not be a 
 pleasant interview on either side. But it 
 was not likely in those times that the 
 Dundonalds should altogether escape the 
 notice of the government, or that Graham, 
 ranging through the country seeking whom 
 he might devour, as the Covenanters said, 
 should not find himself some day under 
 their roof. The earl himself was known 
 to be well affected, and in any case did not 
 count, but Lady Cochrane was a dangerous 
 woman, and her brother-in-law, Sir John, 
 had been plotting against the government 
 and was an exile. No one was much sur- 
 prised when tidings came to the castle early 
 one morning that Claverhouse with two 
 troops of his regiment, his own and the one 
 commanded by Lord Ross, Jean Cochrane's 
 cousin, was near Paisley, and that Claver- 
 house with Lord Ross craved the hospitality
 
 of the castle. It was natural that he should 
 stay in the chief house of the neighbourhood, 
 and all the more as Lord Dundonald was 
 himself notoriously loyal, but it was suspected 
 that he came to gather what information 
 he could about Sir John Cochrane, and to 
 warn Lady Cochrane, the real ruler of the 
 castle, to give heed to her ways. 
 
 "The day of trial which separates the 
 wheat from the chaff has come at last, as I 
 expected it would," said Lady Cochrane, 
 with pride triumphing over concern ; " it 
 would have been strange and a cause for 
 searching of hearts if the enemy had visited 
 so many of God's people and had passed 
 us by as if we were a thing of naught, or 
 indeed were like unto Judas, who had made 
 his peace with the persecutors. Have ye 
 considered what ye will do, my lord ? " she 
 said to the earl, who was wandering help- 
 lessly up and down the dining-hall. 
 
 " Do, my lady ? " It was curious to 
 notice how they all called her my lady. " I 
 judge that Claverhouse and any servants 
 he brings must be our guests, and of course 
 Ross. But you know more about what 
 we can do than I. Do you think we could 
 invite the other officers of his troop ? There
 
 116 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 will be Bruce of Earleshall and " Then, 
 
 catching Lady Cochrane's eye, he brought 
 his maundering plans of hospitality to a 
 close. " Doubtless you will send a letter 
 and invite such as the castle may accommo- 
 date. I leave everything, Margaret, in your 
 hands." 
 
 " / invite John Graham of Claverhouse 
 and his bloody crew, officers or men it 
 matters not, to cross our threshold and 
 break bread within our walls I, a daughter 
 of the house of Cassilis and the widow of 
 your faithful son ! May my hand be 
 smitten helpless forever if I write such a 
 word, and my tongue cleave to the roof of 
 my mouth if I welcome this slayer of the 
 saints to my home ! " And Lady Cochrane 
 rose from her place and stood like a lioness 
 at bay. " Receive that servant of the Evil 
 One into Paisley Castle ? Yea, I would 
 receive him if I could. If early word had 
 been sent of his approach and it were in my 
 power, I would call together every man in 
 this region who is true unto God and the 
 Covenant, and I would close the gates of 
 the castle and bid the persecutor take it 
 by force. I should count it an honour 
 before the Lord to shed my own blood
 
 COMING OF THE AMALEKITE 117 
 
 in its defence. But I doubt that may 
 not be." 
 
 " What shall I do, then ? " in answer to 
 a quavering question from the earl, 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 some 
 lodging till Claverhouse be gone, for I fear 
 to dwell beneath the same roof with this 
 man of blood lest the Lord smite us with a 
 common destruction. See him or speak 
 with him I will not ; I will to my own 
 rooms, and there I will seclude myself, 
 praying that God may speedily judge this 
 man, and cast him from his place. Lord 
 Dundonald, I will leave it to you to play 
 the host : very likely ye will not have much 
 sorrow over it, for ye have more than a 
 friendly heart to the Malignants." 
 
 " It seems to me, if I be not too bold in 
 saying it, that ye are taking a wise course, 
 my lady, for there might arise some slight 
 debate between you and Claverhouse, and 
 that in the present circumstances would 
 not be convenient. Not quite, as I said, 
 convenient. You are a brave woman, 
 Margaret, and worthy of your honourable 
 house, but Claverhouse is the King's officer,
 
 118 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 and I forget my memory is not what it 
 was the number of men in a troop, but 
 he has two troops with him. Apart from 
 that," rambled on the earl, "we must re- 
 member John, who is in danger, and we 
 may not give offence if we can speak a 
 canny word which will get the right side of 
 Claverhouse." 
 
 " Ye have learned your lesson well, my 
 lord, and ye wiU do your part in this day of 
 expediency when men are more concerned 
 about their safety and that of their children 
 than that of the Kirk of God and the cause 
 of righteousness. I make sure that there 
 will be much fair talk between you and 
 your guests, but I cannot breathe this air, 
 and so you will excuse me from your 
 company. Jean, you will come with your 
 mother and stay with me till this plague 
 has left the house, for I count a visit of 
 Claverhouse worse than leprosy or the black 
 death." 
 
 " Craving your pardon, mother," said 
 Jean, who had been listening to this con- 
 versation with intense sympathy, and enter- 
 ing keenly into the contrast between the 
 earl and Lady Cochrane, " I will not go 
 with you and hide myself till Colonel
 
 COMING OF THE AMALEKITE 119 
 
 Graham be gone. There should, it seems 
 to me, be some woman by the side of the 
 head of the house, especially when he is no 
 longer young, to receive Claverhouse, for 
 whether we hate or love him he is our guest 
 while underneath this roof. I am not 
 afraid of him, and I will make free to 
 confess that I desire to see this man of 
 whom we have heard so much ill. It may 
 be, after all, that he 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 more than was 
 becoming, I do not recall till this day that 
 ye have disobeyed me. But be it so, since 
 this gives pleasure to his lordship " (who had 
 crept over and was standing, as it were, 
 under the shield of his bold granddaughter). 
 " Only, one word of warning, if ye be not 
 too proud and high-minded to take it. 
 Albeit this man has the heart of Pontius 
 Pilate, and will be the curse of every one 
 that has to do with him, yet the story goes 
 that the master whom he serves has given 
 him a fair face and beguiling words, and I 
 bid you beware. But from what I hear
 
 120 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 outside it is time I left. Your guest is at 
 your gate : I pray you may have comfort in 
 him, and that he may not bring a shadow 
 to this home." And Lady Cochrane swept 
 her majestic way out of the dining-hall, 
 and retired to her apartments in another 
 wing. 
 
 As she left, the earl, with Jean, went to 
 the public door of the hall to meet Lord 
 Ross and Claverhouse, who, without waiting 
 for any invitation to stay in the castle, had 
 come to pay their respects to the earl. 
 They were already ascending the narrow 
 stone stairs by which visitors came from the 
 courtyard to the hall, and almost as soon as 
 the earl and Jean had taken their places, 
 Lord Ross came through the doorway, and 
 having bowed to the earl turned aside to 
 present Claverhouse. Jean saw him for the 
 first time framed in the arch of the door, and 
 never while she lived, even after she was the 
 loyal wife of another man, forgot the sight. 
 Ten years had passed since Graham jested 
 at the camp-fire with his comrades of the 
 English volunteers, on the night before 
 the battle of SenefFe, but war, with many 
 anxieties, had left only slight traces upon 
 his face. He was no longer a soldier of
 
 COMING OF THE AMALEKITE 121 
 
 fortune, but the commander of " His 
 Majesty's Own Regiment of Horse," and 
 a colonel in the King's army. By this time 
 also he was a member of the Privy Council, 
 and a favourite person at Court ; he had 
 held various offices and taken part in many 
 public affairs. Yet he was the same gracious 
 and engaging figure, carrying on his face 
 the changeless bloom of youth, though now 
 thirty-six years of age. He was in the 
 handsome uniform of his regiment, com- 
 pleted by a polished and gleaming breastplate 
 over which his neckerchief of white lace 
 streamed, while his face looked out from the 
 wealth of brown hair which fell over his 
 shoulders. His left hand rested on his 
 sword, and Jean marked the refinement and 
 delicacy of his right hand, which was un- 
 gloved, as if for salutation. The day had 
 been cloudy, and the hall, with its stone 
 floor, high roof, oaken furniture, and walls 
 covered by dark tapestry, was full of gloom, 
 only partially relieved by the firelight from 
 the wide, open hearth. While Claverhouse 
 was coming up the stairs to the sound of his 
 spurs and the striking of his sword against 
 the wall, the sun came out from behind a 
 cloud, and a ray of light streaming from an
 
 122 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 opposite window fell upon the doorway as he 
 entered. It lingered but for a moment, and 
 after touching his picturesque figure as with 
 a caress, disappeared, and the eyes of John 
 Graham and Jean Cochrane met. 
 
 They were the opposite of each other : he 
 slight and graceful, she tall and strong ; he 
 dark and rich of complexion, with hazel eye, 
 she fair and golden, with eyes of grey-blue ; 
 he a born and convinced Cavalier, and she a 
 born and professed Covenanter ; he a kins- 
 man of the great marquis whom the Cove- 
 nanters beheaded, and she on her mother's 
 side the daughter of a house which hated 
 Montrose and all his works. There was 
 nothing common between them ; they stood 
 distant as the east from the west, and yet in 
 that instant their hearts were drawn together. 
 They might never confess their love there 
 would be a thousand hindrances to give it 
 effect it was in the last degree unlikely 
 that they could ever marry, but it had come 
 to pass with them as with innumerable 
 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 be your guest during my short stay in the
 
 COMING OF THE AMALEKITE 123 
 
 district. It is strange that through some 
 ordering of circumstances, to me very dis- 
 appointing, I have never had the honour of 
 offering to you an assurance of my respect 
 as a good subject of the King, and one whom 
 the King has greatly honoured. As you 
 know, my lord, I come and go hastily on 
 the King's business. I only wish, and I 
 judge his Majesty would join in the wish, 
 that my visits to those parts were fewer. 
 One is tempted, preachers tell us, to think 
 well of himself, overmuch indeed, maybe, 
 but I have been wonderfully delivered from 
 the snare of imagining that I am a beloved 
 person in the west of Scotland." As he 
 spoke, a sudden and almost roguish look of 
 humour sprang from his eyes and played 
 across his face. And he smiled pleasantly 
 to Lady Jean, to whom he was now intro- 
 duced, and whose hand he kissed. 
 
 " You will give your indulgence to a poor 
 soldier who must appear in this foolish 
 trapping of war, and whose time in these 
 parts is spent in the saddle rather than hi 
 a lady's rooms. I trust that it is well with 
 the Lady Cochrane, of whom I have often 
 heard, and whom I dared to hope I might 
 have the privilege of meeting." And a
 
 second time the same smile flickered over 
 Claverhouse's face, and he seemed to 
 challenge Jean for an answer. 
 
 " My mother, Colonel Graham," responded 
 Jean, with a careful choice of words, " does 
 not find herself able to receive you to-day as 
 we would have wished, and I fear she may 
 be confined to her room during your visit. 
 It will, I fear, be the greater loss to you that 
 you have to accept me in her place, but we 
 will try to give you such attention as we can, 
 and my good cousin here knows the castle 
 as if it were his own home." 
 
 "Yes, and he has often spoken of our 
 fair hostess of to-day " and plaverhouse led 
 Lady Jean to the table, where a meal was 
 spread " and every one has heard how wide 
 is the hospitality of Paisley Castle. Am I 
 too bold in asking whether Lord Ross and 
 I are the only guests, or whether we may 
 not expect to have a blessing on this generous 
 board from some minister of the Kirk, 
 even perhaps from the worthy Mr. Henry 
 Pollock ? I think, my lord, he favours you 
 sometimes with his company." Again the 
 smile returned, but this time more searching 
 and ironical. 
 
 "Pollock? Henry?" said the Earl. "That
 
 COMING OF THE AMALEKITE 125 
 
 name sounds familiar. One of the leaders 
 of the hillmen, isn't he, who were giving such 
 trouble to the government ? I am not sure 
 but he was in this district not long ago, 
 maybe a month since. 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, but I can't approve 
 of any trafficking with persons disaffected 
 to the government. Gone ! What, did any 
 man say that Pollock was here ? " And 
 the earl shuffled in his chair beneath Claver- 
 house's mocking eyes. 
 
 " If you desire to know the truth," Jean 
 Cochrane said, with severe dignity, " it were 
 better not to ask my lord, because many 
 come and go, and he sometimes forgets their 
 names. Mr. Henry Pollock was our guest 
 three days ago, as you are ours to-day, but 
 next day he left, and we know 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 off the soldiers. " For one thing, 
 at any rate, I have come a day behind the
 
 126 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 fair, and I shall not have the pleasure this 
 time of hearing some gracious words from 
 that eminent saint, and introducing my 
 unworthy self to his notice. We have met 
 once or twice before, but at a distance, and 
 he had no leisure to speak with me. Some 
 day I hope to be more fortunate." 
 
 " When you do meet, Colonel Graham," 
 retorted Jean, stung by this mockery, for 
 she knew now that one of the ends of 
 Claverhouse's visit was the arrest of Pollock, 
 and if it had not been the accident of her 
 refusal, Pollock would haye been Claver- 
 house's prisoner, " you will be in the com- 
 pany 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 to say aught against him. 
 Had I found him in Paisley Castle I should 
 have done my duty, and he would have 
 done his. We were together in the old 
 days at St. Andrew's, and he was a good 
 Cavalier then ; he is a man of family and 
 of honour. Pardon me if I think he has 
 chosen the wrong side, and is doing vast
 
 COMING OF THE AMALEKITE 127 
 
 evil in stirring up ignorant people against 
 the government and breeding lawlessness. 
 But there, I desire not to debate, and none 
 grieves more over the divisions of the day 
 than an unhappy soldier who is sent to 
 settle them by the rough medicine of the 
 sword. Henry Pollock has chosen his side 
 and taken his risk : I have chosen mine and 
 taken my risk, too. If it be his lot when 
 the time comes he will die as a brave man 
 should, for there is no cowardice in Pollock, 
 and when my time comes, may heaven give 
 me the same grace. But I fear, Lady Jean, 
 it is a struggle unto life or death." Claver- 
 house's face grew stern and sad, and he 
 repeated, " Unto life or death." 
 
 Then suddenly his face relaxed into the 
 old polite, mocking smile as he turned to 
 Lord Dundonald. " The Lady Jean and 
 I have fallen upon much too serious talk, 
 and I take blame, my lord, that I have not 
 been inquiring for the welfare of your family. 
 I congratulate you on my Lord Cochrane, 
 who well sustains the fame of your house 
 on all its sides for turning out strong men 
 and fair women. Some day I hope Cochrane 
 will ask for a commission in his Majesty's 
 Regiment of Horse and join his kinsman
 
 128 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 Ross under my command. But what news 
 have you from Sir John? It came to my 
 ears somehow that he was travelling abroad ; 
 is that so, my lord ? Some one told me 
 also that you had a letter from him a week 
 ago." 
 
 " John ! We have not seen him for a 
 year. He was in London, but he is not 
 there now. Yes, I seem to remember that 
 he had some business which has taken him 
 out of the country for a little. We hope he 
 will soon return, and when he knows that 
 you have done us the honour of coming 
 beneath our roof he will be very sorry that 
 he was not here to meet you." The earl 
 havered to the end of his breath and his 
 prevarications, like a clock which had run 
 down. 
 
 " It would have been more good fortune 
 than I expected from my information if I 
 had found Sir John here, for unless rumour 
 be a wilder liar than usual he is in Holland, 
 where there is a considerable gathering of 
 worthy Presbyterians at present, taking 
 council together, no doubt, for the good 
 of their country. When you are writing 
 to Sir John, would you of your courtesy 
 give him a message from me ? Say that I
 
 COMING OF THE AMALEKITE 129 
 
 know Holland well, and that the climate is 
 excellent for Scotsmen more healthy some- 
 times, indeed, than their native air and 
 that some of his well-wishers think that he 
 might be happier there than even in Paisley 
 Castle. If he wishes service in the army, 
 I could recommend him to the notice of 
 my old fellow-officer, MacKay of Scourie, 
 who is now, I hear, a general in the Prince's 
 service. You will be pleased to know r , my 
 lord, that the Rye House Plot against his 
 Majesty was a very poor failure, and that 
 all engaged in it, who were caught, will be 
 soundly trounced." 
 
 " If any one says that my son had any- 
 thing to do with that damnable proceeding, 
 w r hich all loyal subjects must detest, then 
 he is slandering John, who is " 
 
 " Your son, my lord, and the brother of 
 my late Lord Cochrane, cut off too soon. 
 I am curious to get any gossip from the 
 Low Country. Would it be too great a 
 labour for you to let your eyes rest again 
 on Sir John's letters, and to learn whether 
 he has anything to tell about my old com- 
 mander, his Highness of Orange, or anything 
 else that would satisfy my poor curiosity. 
 Burned them, have you ? Strange. If I 
 
 9
 
 130 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 had a son 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 to disappointment 
 to-day in everything except the most 
 gracious hospitality. Now, with your per- 
 mission, Lady Jean, I must go to see that 
 those rascals of mine are not making your 
 good people in the town drink the King's 
 health too deeply." 

 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 BETWEEN MOTHER AND LOVER 
 
 FOR no less a time than fourteen days did 
 Claverhouse and his men remain in Paisley, 
 to the amazement of the district and the 
 fierce indignation of Lady Cochrane. Dur- 
 ing that time the soldiers made sudden 
 journeys in various directions, but if they 
 arrested any Covenanters they were never 
 brought to Paisley, and although Lady 
 Cochrane prophesied the murder of the 
 saints every day, no new atrocity was laid 
 to her guest's charge. Once or twice he 
 went out with his men himself, but he 
 mostly contented himself with directing 
 their operations, and he occupied his time 
 with writing long despatches on the case 
 of Sir John Cochrane and the state of affairs 
 in Scotland. He was not so busy, however, 
 that he had no leisure for the duties of a 
 guest, and now that he had missed Pollock 
 
 131
 
 132 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 and had found out all he wanted about Sir 
 John, he never came within a thousand miles 
 of controversy. He was studiously courteous 
 to the servants at the castle, who had re- 
 garded his coming with absolute terror ; he 
 calmed and gentled the timid old earl, and 
 drew him out to tell stories of the days of 
 the Commonwealth, when one of Cromwell's 
 troopers pulled the minister out of the pulpit 
 of the Abbey kirk, and held forth himself 
 on the sins both of Prelacy and Presbytery, 
 declaring that he was as good a priest as 
 any man. Claverhouse made no objection 
 when the minister of the Abbey, who had 
 taken the Indulgence and was on good terms 
 with the government, but whom Lady 
 Cochrane detested and considered to be a 
 mere Gallic, came up to hold family worship 
 in the castle. He attended the service him- 
 self, and explained that he always had 
 prayers when he was at home, and that he 
 generally had a chaplain with him. When 
 he was not shut up in his room reading or 
 writing despatches, he mingled freely with 
 the family and suited himself to each one's 
 taste with great tact and good nature. It 
 was not long since he had returned from 
 Court at London, where he was now a
 
 MOTHER AND LOVER 133 
 
 popular and influential person, and he had 
 many good tales for young Lord Cochrane, 
 about hunting with the Duke of York, cock- 
 fighting and other sports in vogue, and all 
 the doings of the royal circle. For Jean 
 he had endless interesting gossip from the 
 capital about the great ladies and famous 
 men, and the amusements of the Court and 
 the varied life of London. But he was 
 careful never to tell any of those tales which 
 buzzed through the land about the ways of 
 Charles, but which were not fit for a 
 maiden's ears. From time to time, also, as 
 they walked together in the pleasaunce of 
 the castle, they touched on deeper things, 
 and Jean marked that, although this man 
 had lived a soldier's life, and had been much 
 with people who were far removed from 
 Puritanism, he was free from the coarseness 
 of the day, and that, although he might be 
 capable of severity and even cruelty, he was 
 of more fastidious and chivalrous temper 
 than any one else she had met among the 
 Covenanters except Henry Pollock. Un- 
 consciously Jean began to compare the two 
 men, and to weigh their types of character. 
 There was nothing to choose between them 
 in honour or in manliness, though the one
 
 134 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 was a minister of the Evangel and the other 
 a colonel of his Majesty's Horse, but they 
 were different. Pollock, with all his narrow- 
 ness of faith and extravagance of action, 
 was a saint, and no one could say that of 
 Claverhouse, even though they might admit 
 he was not the devil of the Covenanting 
 imagination. But John Graham was more 
 human : he might not see visions, and there 
 never came into his face 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 eyes caressed her. His 
 voice never had that indescribable accent 
 of eternity which thrilled Henry Pollock's 
 hearers, and was to them as a message 
 from God, but Graham's speech could turn 
 from grave and courteous mockery, which 
 was very taking in its way, to a gentle 
 deference and respectful appeal, which, from 
 a strong man with so dazzling a reputation, 
 was irresistible to a woman's heart. Then, 
 no one could deny that his person was 
 beautiful a rare thing to say of a man- 
 or that his manner was gracious, and Jean 
 began to admit to herself that if he set 
 himself he would be a successful lover. 
 The very contradiction of the man with
 
 so graceful a form and so high a spirit, with 
 so evil a name for persecution and so en- 
 gaging a presence, with such a high tone 
 of authority among the men in power and 
 so modest a carriage towards maidens made 
 him a captivating guest and dangerous to 
 women's hearts. There was also a natural 
 sympathy between John Graham and Jean 
 Cochrane, because, though they had been 
 brought up under different traditions and 
 were on opposite sides, they were both 
 resolute, honest, independent, and loyal. 
 No word or hint of love passed between 
 them during those days, but Jean knew 
 that for the first time her heart had been 
 touched, and Claverhouse, who had seen all 
 kinds of women and had been indifferent 
 to them all, and who for the beauty of him 
 had been tempted at Court quite shame- 
 lessly and had remained cold as ice, under- 
 stood at last the attraction of a maid for 
 a man, and also realised that Jean Cochrane 
 was a fit mate for him because her spirit 
 was as high as his own. 
 
 They were trying days for Lady Cochrane 
 in her self-enforced seclusion, and her tem- 
 per was not improved by the news, brought 
 diligently to her by her waiting-maid, that
 
 136 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 her daughter was doing her utmost to make 
 the persecutor's time pass pleasantly. Her 
 mother had no suspicion at this point that 
 Jean was really wavering in loyalty to the 
 good cause, but as a woman with insight and 
 discernment she knew the danger to which 
 Jean was exposed, and blamed herself for 
 her own inconvenient pride. What if by 
 way of putting a slight on this arch enemy 
 she were to sacrifice her own child ? It was 
 impossible, of course, that any daughter of 
 hers should ever allow her affections to be 
 entangled by the murderer of the saints, and 
 Claverhouse dared not, if he w T ould, marry a 
 Cochrane, for he might as well throw up 
 his commission and join Henry Pollock at 
 the next preaching on the moors. But 
 foolish ideas might come into the girl's head, 
 and it was said that Claverhouse could 
 appear as an angel of light. It might be as 
 well to strengthen and safeguard her 
 daughter against the wiles of the wicked 
 one, so she summoned her to her room, and, 
 as her manner was, dealt with Jean in a 
 straightforward and faithful fashion. Lady 
 Cochrane had, however, learned that her 
 daughter could not be browbeaten or cap- 
 tured by direct assault, but that, however
 
 MOTHER AND LOVER 137 
 
 thorough might be her own mind and un- 
 compromising her will, she would have to 
 walk warily with Jean. 
 
 " It was an ill wind that blew that evil 
 man to this castle, and an ill work, I make 
 no doubt, he has been after in this district. 
 He came like a bloodhound to catch Henry 
 Pollock, and like a fox to get what news he 
 could about Sir John. What he lingers for 
 his master only knows, but it grieves me, 
 lassie, that ye have had the burden of him 
 on your shoulders. They are too light, 
 though they may be stronger than most, for 
 such a weight ; I will not deny your spirit, 
 but he, as the proverb goes, must have a 
 lang spoon to sup wi' the deil. Has he 
 spoken civilly" and Lady Cochrane eyed 
 her daughter keenly " or has he 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 Pollock would have rather pleased 
 than angered you. He does not discourse 
 without ceasing, as certain do when they 
 come to the castle, about the times and all 
 the black troubles ; he seems to me rather to 
 avoid matters of debate, I suppose because
 
 138 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 they would give offence. I doubt whether 
 you could quarrel with him if you met 
 him." 
 
 " What, then, is the substance of his talk 
 for, if all stories be true, it is not much he 
 knows of anything but war and wicked peo- 
 ple ? What has he for a godly maiden to 
 hear ? " 
 
 " Nothing worth mentioning, mayhap "- 
 and Jean spoke with almost studied indif- 
 ference " what is going on in London, and 
 how the great ladies of the Court are dressed, 
 and the clever things the King says, and how 
 the Duke of York loves sport, and suchlike. 
 It would please you to hear him, for ye have 
 seen the Court." 
 
 " Once, Jean, and never again by God's 
 mercy, for it is a spring of corruption from 
 which pours every evil work, where no man 
 can live clean, and no chaste woman should 
 ever go. The like of it has not been seen for 
 wickedness since the daughter of Herodias 
 danced before Herod and his lewd courtiers, 
 and obtained the head of John the Baptist 
 on a charger for her reward. Black shame 
 upon John Graham ! Cruel he is, but I 
 thought he would not pollute any girl's ears 
 with such immodest tales." And Lady
 
 MOTHER AND LOVER 139 
 
 Cochrane was beginning to lose control of 
 herself. 
 
 " Colonel Graham said never a word which 
 it were unbecoming a maiden to hear, and 
 especially a daughter of Lady Cochrane." 
 And Jean grew hot with indignation. " His 
 talk was about the ceremonies and the 
 dresses ; there was no mention of any wrong- 
 doings. Nor was his speech always of 
 London, for he touched on many other 
 things, and seemed to me to have right 
 thoughts, both of how men should live and 
 die. For example, he said, that though 
 Mr. Henry Pollock and he differ, Mr. 
 Henry was a good and brave gentleman." 
 
 *' Did he, indeed ? " and Lady Cochrane 
 was very scornful. " Doubtless that was 
 very cunning on his part, and meant to 
 tickle your ears. But ye know, Jean, that 
 if by evil chance, or rather, let us say, a dark 
 ordering of the Lord, he had caught Mr. 
 Henry here, like a bird in the snare of the 
 fowler, he would have given him a short 
 trial. If ye had cared to look ye would 
 have seen that godly man shot in our own 
 courtyard by six of Claverhouse's dragoons. 
 Aye, and he would have given the order in 
 words as smooth as butter, and come back
 
 to tell you 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 throw- 
 ing back her head, " ye speak what ye be- 
 lieve to be true, and many hard things are 
 done in these black days on both sides ; but 
 after I have spoken with Claverhouse, I 
 cannot 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 a young lassie's 
 eye is caught in the snare of a glancing 
 eye and a gallant's lovelocks. Listen to me, 
 and I will tell you what three weeks ago 
 this fairspoken and sweet-smiling cavalier 
 did. He was hunting for the hidden ser- 
 vants of the Lord in the wild places of 
 Ayrshire, and he caught near his own house 
 a faithful professor of religion, on whose 
 head a price was set, and for whose blood 
 those sons of Belial were thirsting. Claver- 
 house demanded that he should take the 
 oath which no honest man can swear, and 
 of which ye have often heard. And when 
 that brave heart would not, because he 
 counted his life not dear to him for the Lord's
 
 MOTHER AND LOVER 141 
 
 sake, Claverhouse gave him three minutes 
 to pray before he died. You are hearing 
 me, Jean, for I have not done ? 
 
 " The martyr of the Lord prayed so ear- 
 nestly for his wife and children, for the 
 downtrodden Kirk of Scotland, and for his 
 murderer, that Graham 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 Claver- 
 house commanded so many of his men to fire 
 upon him. Ah ! ye would have seen another 
 Claverhouse than ye know in that hour. 
 But that is not all. 
 
 " His dragoons are ignorant and ungodly 
 men, accustomed to blood, but after hearing 
 that prayer their hearts were softened with- 
 in them and they refused to fire. So Graham 
 took a pistol from his saddle, and with his 
 own hands slew the martyr. Ye are hear- 
 ing, Jean ? But there is more to follow. 
 AVith her husband lying dead before her 
 eyes, Claverhouse asked his wife what she 
 thought of her man now. That brave 
 woman, made strong in the hour of trial, 
 wrapt her husband's head in a white cloth 
 and took it on her lap, and answered : ' I
 
 142 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 have always honoured him, but I have never 
 been so proud of him as this day. Ye will 
 have to answer to man and God for this.' 
 This is what he gave back to her : ' I am not 
 afraid of man, and God I will take into my 
 own hands.' That is how he can deal with 
 women, Jean, when he is on his errands of 
 blood, and that is what he thinks of God. 
 But his day is coming, and the judgment 
 of the Lord will not tarry." 
 
 " My lady," said Jean, who had grown very 
 pale, and whose face had hardened through 
 this ghastly story, " that, I am certain as I 
 live, is a lie. Colonel Graham might order 
 the Covenanter to be shot, and that were 
 dreadful enough. He would never have in- 
 sulted his wife after such a base manner 
 none but a churl would do that, and Claver- 
 house is not base-born." 
 
 " He is base, girl, who does basely, it 
 matters not how fair he be or how pleasing 
 in a lady's room. And I am not sure about 
 his respect for ladies and the high ways of 
 what ye would call his chivalry. Mayhap 
 ye have not heard the story of his courting 
 then I have something else, and a lighter 
 tale for your ears, but whether ^ please you 
 better I know not. Though I begin to
 
 believe ye are easily satisfied." At the men- 
 tion 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 passed from mouth 
 to mouth among the children of this world, 
 and some of them are not for a godly maid- 
 en's ears, since they are maistly concerned 
 wi' chambering and wantonness. But this 
 thing ye had better hear, and then ye will 
 understand what manner of man in his walk 
 and conversation we are harbouring be- 
 neath our roof. For a' he look so grand 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 the gallants 
 that drink and gamble and do waur things 
 at the King's Court, he has been hunting 
 for some lass that will bring him a tocher 
 and a title. For this is what the men of his 
 generation are ever needing. Ye follow me, 
 Jean ? This may be news to a country 
 lass wha has not been corrupted among the 
 King's ladies. 
 
 " Weel, it's mair than three years ago our 
 brave gentleman scented his game, and ever 
 since has been trying to trap this misguided
 
 lass, for like the rest o' them, when he is not 
 persecuting the saints, he is ruining innocent 
 women soul and body. I would have you 
 understand that, daughter, and maybe ye 
 will walk with him less in the pleasaunce." 
 Both women were standing, and Lady 
 Cochrane was watching Jean to see whether 
 she had touched her. Her daughter gave 
 no sign except that her face was hardening, 
 and she tapped the floor with her foot. 
 
 " Ye may not have heard of Helen Gra- 
 ham, for she belongs to another world 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 Marquis 
 himself, who was a traitor to the Covenant 
 and a scourge to Israel, to this bonnie kins- 
 man of his, who has the face of a woman and 
 the dress of a popinjay and the heart of a 
 fiend. Now, it happens that this fair lass, 
 whom I pity both for her blood and for her 
 company, for indeed she is a daughter of 
 Heth and hath the portion of her people, is 
 heiress to the Earl of Monteith, and whasoever 
 marries her will succeed to what money there 
 is and will be an earl in his own richt. A 
 fine prize for an avaricious and ambitious 
 worldling.
 
 " For years, then, as I was saying, Claver- 
 house has been scheming and plotting to 
 capture Helen Graham and to make himself 
 Earl o' Monteith. It wasna sic easy work as 
 shootin' God's people on the hillside, and for 
 a while the sun didna shine on his game. 
 Some say the Marquis wanted her for him- 
 self, and then John Graham of Claverhouse 
 would have to go behind like a little dog to 
 his master's heel. Some say that her father 
 had some compunction in handing over his 
 daughter into sic cruel hands. Some say 
 that the lass had a lover of her own, though 
 that is neither here nor there with her folk. 
 But it's no easy throwing a bloodhound off 
 the track, and now I hear he has gained his 
 purpose, and afore he left the Court and came 
 back to his evil trade in Scotland the contract 
 of marriage was settled, and ane o' these days 
 we will be hearing that a Graham has mar- 
 ried a Graham, and that both o' them have 
 gotten the portion that belongeth to the un- 
 righteous. Ye ken, Jean, that I have never 
 loved the foolish gossip which fills the minds 
 o' idle folk when they had better be readin' 
 their Bibles and praying for their souls, but I 
 judged it expedient that ye should know that 
 Claverhouse is as gude as a married man." 
 
 10
 
 146 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 " If he were not," said Jean, looking 
 steadily at her mother, and drawing herself 
 up to her full height, " there is little danger 
 he would come to Paisley Castle for his love, 
 or find a bride in my Lady Cochrane's 
 daughter. Ye have given me fair warning 
 and have used very plain speech, but I was 
 wondering with myself all the time" and 
 then as her mother waited and questioned 
 her by a look " whether miscalling a man 
 black with the shameful lies of his enemies is 
 not the surest way to turn the heart of a 
 woman towards him. But doubtless ye ken 
 best." Without further speech Jean left her 
 mother's room, who felt that she would have 
 succeeded better if her daughter had been less 
 like herself. 
 
 Jean gave, truth to tell, little heed to the 
 stories of Claverhouse's savagery, partly be- 
 cause rough deeds were being done on both 
 sides, and they were not so much horrified in 
 the West Country of that time at the shoot- 
 ing of a man as we are in our delicate days ; 
 partly, also, because she had been fed on those 
 horrors for years, and had learned to regard 
 Claverhouse and the other Royalist officers 
 as men capable of any atrocity. Gradually 
 the dramatic stories had grown stale and
 
 MOTHER AXD LOVER 147 
 
 lost their bite, and when she noticed that 
 with every new telling it was necessary to 
 strengthen the horrors, Jean had begun to 
 regard them as works of political fiction. 
 But this was another story about Claver- 
 house's engagement to Helen Graham. Jean 
 would not admit to herself, even in her own 
 room or in her own heart, that she was in 
 love with Graham, and she was ready to say 
 to herself that no marriage could be more 
 preposterous than between a Cochrane and a 
 Graham. It did not really matter to her 
 whether he had been engaged or was going 
 to be engaged to one Graham or twenty 
 Grahams. She had never seen him till a few 
 days ago, and very likely, having done all he 
 wanted, he would never come to Paisley 
 Castle again. Their lives had touched just 
 for a space, and then would run for ever 
 afterwards apart. They had passed some 
 pleasant hours together, and she would ever 
 remember his face ; perhaps he might some- 
 times recall hers. So the little play would 
 end without ill being done to her or him. 
 Still, as she knew her mother was not over- 
 scrupulous, and any stick was good enough 
 wherewith to beat Claverhouse, she would 
 like to know, if only to gratify a woman's
 
 148 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 curiosity, whether Claverhouse was really 
 going to marry this kinswoman of his, and, in 
 passing, whether he was the mercenary ad- 
 venturer of her mother's description. 
 
 This was the reason of a friendly duel be- 
 tween that vivacious woman Kirsty Howie- 
 son, Jean Cochrane's maid and humble friend, 
 and that hard-headed and far-seeing man of 
 Angus, Jock Grimond, Claverhouse's servant 
 and only too loyal clansman. 
 
 " It's no true every time ' Like master like 
 man ' " and Kirsty made a bold opening, as 
 was the way of her class " for I never saw 
 a woman wi' a bonnier face than Claverhouse, 
 and, my certie, mony a lass would give ten 
 years o' her life, aye, and mair, for his brown 
 curls and his glancing een. I'm judgin' there 
 have been sair hearts for him amang the fair 
 Court ladies." 
 
 " Ye may weel say that, Kirsty," answered 
 Jock ; " if Providence had been pleased to 
 give ye a coontinance half as winsome, nae 
 doot ye would have been married afore this, 
 my lass. As for him, the woman just rin 
 after Claverhouse in flooks. It doesna mat- 
 ter whether it be Holland or whether it be 
 London, whether it be duchesses at White- 
 hall or merchants' daughters at Dundee, he
 
 MOTHER AND LOVER 149- 
 
 could have married a hundred times over wi' 
 money and rank and beauty and power.. 
 Lord's sake ! the opportunities he has had, 
 and the risks he has run, it's been a merciful 
 thing he had me by his side to be, if I may 
 say it, a guide and a protector." 
 
 " If the Almichty hasna done muckle for 
 your face, Jock, He's given you a grand con- 
 ceit o' yoursel', and that must be a rael com- 
 fort. I wish I'd a share o' it. So you have 
 preserved your maister safe till this day, and 
 he's still gaeing about heart-free and hand- 
 free?" 
 
 " Na, Kirsty" and Grimond looked 
 shrewdly at her " I'll no say that Claver- 
 house isna bound to marry some day or ither, 
 and, of course, in his posseetion it behove 
 him to find a lady of his ain rank and his, 
 ain creed. Noo, what I'm tellin' ye is strictly 
 between oorsel's, and ye're no to mention it 
 even to your ain mistress. Claverhouse is 
 contracted in marriage to Miss Helen Gra- 
 ham, the daughter of Sir James Graham, 
 his own uncle, and the heiress to the Earl 
 of Monteith. Ye see, Miss Helen is his- 
 kinswoman, and she brings him an earldom 
 in her lap. Besides that she's verra takin' in 
 her appearance and manner, and I needna.
 
 150 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 say just hates a Covenanter as she would a 
 brock. It's a maist suitable match every 
 way ye look at it, and it has my entire 
 approbation. But no a word aboot this, mind 
 ye, Kirsty though I was juist thinkin' this 
 afternoon of recommendin' Claverhouse to 
 let this contract be known. He's an honour- 
 able man, is the laird, and, by ordinary, 
 weel-livin' ; but there's nae doot he is awfu' 
 temptit by women, and I wouldna like to 
 see their hearts broken." 
 
 " A word in season to my Lady Jean, if 
 I'm no sair mistaken " and Jock chuckled 
 to himself when Kirsty had gone " and a 
 warning to the laird micht no be amiss. It 
 would be fine business for a Graham o' 
 Claverhouse to marry a Covenantin' fanatic 
 and the daughter o' sic a mither. Dod ! it 
 would be fair ruin for his career, and misery 
 for himsel'. I'll no deny her looks, but I'll 
 guarantee she has her mither 's temper. 
 What would Claverhouse have done without 
 me though I wouldna say that to onybody 
 except mysel' he would have been just an 
 object aye, aye, just a fair object." 
 
 As Grimond had communicated the en- 
 gagement of Claverhouse to Helen Graham 
 under the form of a secret, he was perfectly
 
 MOTHER AXD LOVER 151 
 
 certain that Kirsty would tell it that evening 
 to her mistress and in the end to the whole 
 castle. But he thought it wise to reinforce 
 the resolution of the other side, and when 
 he waited on his master that evening he laid 
 himself out for instruction. 
 
 " Ye would have laughed hearty, Mr. John, 
 if you had heard the officers over their wine 
 this afternoon in the town. Lord Ross wasna 
 there, and so they had the freedom o' their 
 tongues, and if Sir Adam Blair wasna holdin' 
 out that you had fallen in love wi' Lady Jean, 
 and the next thing they would hear would be 
 a marriage that would astonish Scotland. 
 Earleshall nearly went mad, and said that if 
 ye did that you would be fairly bewitched, 
 and that you might as well join the Cove- 
 nanters. I tell ye, laird, they nearly quar- 
 relled over it, and I am telt they got so 
 thirsty that they drank fourteen bottles o' 
 claret to five o' them besides what they had 
 before. Ye will excuse me mentionin' this, 
 for it's no for me to tell you what the 
 gentlemen speak aboot, but I thought a 
 bit o' daffin' micht lichten ye 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 idle tales you pick up to my ears. You've 
 done this more than once, and I lay it on you 
 not to do it again." 
 
 " Surely, Mr. John, surely. I ken it's no 
 becomin', and I'll no give ye cause to com- 
 plain again. But as sure as death, when I 
 heard them saying it as I took in your mes- 
 sage to Earleshall I nearly dropped on the 
 floor, I was that amused. Claverhouse mar- 
 ried to a Covenanter ! It was verra takin'. 
 
 " Na, na, Mr. John, I kent better than 
 that, but I'm no just comfortable in my 
 mind sae lang as ye are in Paisley Castle 
 and in the company o' Lady Jean. Her 
 mither is an able besom, and her young 
 ladyship is verra deep, What I'm hearin' 
 on the ither side'o' the hedge is that she's 
 trying to get round ye so as to get a pardon 
 for Sir John, and to let him come home 
 from Holland. No, Claverhouse, ye maunna 
 be angry wi' me, for I've waited on ye 
 longer than ye mind, and I canna help 
 bein' anxious. Ye are a grand soldier, and 
 ye've been a fine adviser to the government. 
 There's no mony things ye're no fit for, Mr. 
 John, but the women are cunning, and have 
 aye made a fule o' the men since Eve led
 
 MOTHER AND LOVER 15S 
 
 Adam aff the straicht and made sic a 
 mishanter o' the hale race. They say doon 
 stairs that Lady Jean is getting roond 
 ye fine, and that if it wasna that her family 
 wanted something from you, you would 
 never have had a blink o' her, ony mair 
 than her auld jade o' a mither. For a 
 hypocrite give me a Covenanter, and, of 
 course, the higher they are the cleverer. 
 
 "Just ae word more, Claverhouse, and I 
 pray ye no to be angry, for there's naebody 
 loves ye better than Jock Grimond. I hear 
 things ye canna hear, and I see things ye 
 canna see. Naebody would tell you that 
 Lady Jean and Pollock, the Covenantin" 
 minister, are as gude as man and wife. 
 They may no be married yet, but they will 
 be as sune as it's safe, and that's how he 
 comes here so often. She has a good reason 
 to speak 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 y 
 fausehood aswi'a garment." And although 
 Claverhouse's rebuke was hot, Grimond felt 
 that he had not suffered in vain.
 
 CHAPTER I\ 
 
 " THY PEOPLE SHALL BE MY PEOPLE, THY 
 GOD MY GOD " 
 
 A MONTH had passed before Claverhouse 
 returned to Paisley, and this time he made 
 his headquarters in the town, and did not 
 accept the hospitality of the castle, excusing 
 himself on the ground of his many and 
 sudden journeys. His real reason was that 
 he thought it better to keep away, both for 
 his own sake and that of Jean Cochrane. 
 During his lonely rides he had time to 
 examine the state of his feelings, and he 
 found himself more deeply affected than he 
 thought ; indeed he confessed to himself 
 that if he were to marry he should prefer 
 Jean to any other woman he had ever met. 
 But he remembered her ancestry, especially 
 her mother, and her creed, which was the 
 opposite of his, and he knew that either she 
 would not marry him because he was the 
 
 154
 
 "THY PEOPLE MY PEOPLE" 155 
 
 chief opponent of her cause, or if he suc- 
 ceeded in winning her, he would most likely 
 be discredited at Court by this suspicious 
 marriage. 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 for his cause and this would only 
 be one more. He tried also to think the 
 matter out from her side, and although he 
 hated to think that she was a traitress 
 trying to ensnare him for her own ends, yet 
 it might be that her family were making a 
 tool of her to seduce him from the path of 
 duty, and although he doubted whether she 
 was betrothed to Pollock, yet it might be 
 true, and he certainly was not going to be 
 Pollock's unsuccessful rival. Altogether, it 
 was expedient that they should not see one 
 another, and Claverhouse contented himself 
 with sending a courteous message by Lord 
 Ross to the earl and Lady Jean, and busied 
 himself with his public and by no means 
 agreeable task of Covenanter-hunting. As, 
 however, he had received the very thought- 
 ful and generous hospitality of the castle on 
 his last visit, and as Lord Ross was con- 
 stantly saying that the earl would like to 
 see him, he determined to call on the
 
 156 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 afternoon before his departure. Lady Coch- 
 rane, as usual, did not appear; and neither 
 did her daughter, and after a futile con- 
 versation with Dundonald, who seemed 
 feebler than ever, Claverhouse left, and had 
 it not been for a sudden whim, as he was 
 going through the courtyard, he had never 
 seen 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 trees Claverhouse 
 turned aside, and walking down one of its 
 grass walks, and thinking of an evening in 
 that place with Jean, he came suddenly 
 upon her on her favourite seat beneath a 
 spreading beech. 
 
 " I crave your pardon, my Lady Jean," 
 said Claverhouse, recovering himself after 
 an instant's discomposure, " for this intrusion 
 upon your chosen place and your meditation. 
 My excuse is the peace of the garden after 
 the wildness of the moors, but I did not 
 hope to find so good company. My success 
 in Paisley Castle has been greater than 
 among the moss-hags." 
 
 "It is a brave work, Colonel Graham, to 
 hunt unarmed peasants " and for the first
 
 "THY PEOPLE MY PEOPLE" 157 
 
 time Claverhouse caught the ironical note in 
 Jean's speech, and knew that for some reason 
 she was nettled with him " and it seems to 
 bring little glory. Though, the story did 
 come to our ears, it sometimes brought risk, 
 and perhaps it was a lie of the Covenanters 
 once ended in the defeat of his Majesty's 
 Horse. I seem to forget the name of the 
 place." 
 
 " Yes," replied Claverhouse with great 
 good humour, " the rascals had the better of 
 us at Drumclog. They might have the 
 same to-morrow again, for the bogs are not 
 good ground for cavalry, and fanatics are 
 dour fighters." 
 
 " It was Henry Pollock ye were after 
 this time, we hear, and ye followed him hard, 
 but ye have not got him. It was a sair pity 
 that you did not come a day sooner to the 
 castle, and then you could have captured 
 him without danger." And Lady Jean 
 mocked him openly. " Ye would have tied 
 his hands behind his back and his feet below 
 the horse's 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 would have been a proud man, Colonel 
 Graham, when ye came and presented the
 
 158 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 prisoner to your masters. May I crave of 
 you the right word, for I am only a woman 
 of the country ? Would Mr. Henry Pollock 
 have been a prisoner of war of war ? " she 
 repeated with an accent and look of vast 
 contempt. 
 
 Never had Claverhouse admired her more 
 than at that moment, for the scorn on her 
 face became her well, and he concluded 
 that it must spring from one of two causes. 
 Most likely, after all, Pollock was her 
 lover. 
 
 " Tis not possible, my Lady Jean," soft- 
 ening his accent till it was as smooth as 
 velvet, and looking at the girl through half- 
 closed eyes, " to please every one to whom 
 he owes duty in this poor world. If I had 
 been successful for my master his Majesty 
 the King I cannot remember the name of 
 any other master then I would have 
 arrested a rebel and a maker of strife in the 
 land, and doubtless he would have suffered 
 his just punishment. That would have been 
 my part tow r ards the King and towards Mr. 
 Henry Pollock, too, and therein have I for 
 the time failed. To-morrow, Lady Jean, I 
 may succeed." 
 
 " Perhaps," she said, looking at him from
 
 <THY PEOPLE MY PEOPLE" 
 
 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 her in every 
 way I can. Whether by my will or not, I 
 have surely given you satisfaction by allow- 
 ing Mr. Henry Pollock to escape, instead of 
 bringing him tied with ropes to Paisley 
 Castle. So far as my information goes you 
 may sleep quietly to-night, for he is safe 
 in some 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 some day soon, either on the hill 
 or on the scaffold." 
 
 " For my sake ? " said Jean, looking at him 
 in amazement. " What have I to do with 
 him more than other women ? " 
 
 " If I have touched upon a secret thing 
 which ought not to be spoken of, I ask your 
 pardon upon my bended knees. But I was 
 told, it seemed to me from a sure quarter, 
 that there was some love passage between 
 you and Henry Pollock, and that indeed you 
 were betrothed for marriage." 
 
 As Claverhouse spoke the red blood flowed 
 over Jean's face and ebbed as quickly. She
 
 160 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 looked at Claverhouse steadily, and answered 
 him in a quiet and intense voice, which quiv- 
 ered with emotion. 
 
 " Ye were told wrong, then, Claverhouse, 
 for I have never been betrothed to any man, 
 and I shall never be the wife of Henry Pol- 
 lock. I am not worthy, for he is a saint, 
 and God knows I am not that nor ever 
 likely to be, but only a woman. But I tell 
 you, face to face, that I respect him, suffer- 
 ing for his religion, more than those who 
 pursue him unto his death. And when he 
 dies, for his testimony, he will have greater 
 honour than those who have murdered him. 
 But they did me too much grace who be- 
 trothed me to Henry Pollock ; if I am ever 
 married it will be to more ordinary flesh and 
 blood, and I doubt me " here her mood 
 changed, and the tension relaxing, she smiled 
 on Claverhouse " whether it will be to any 
 Covenanter." 
 
 "Lady Jean," said Claverhouse, with a 
 new light breaking on him, for he began to 
 suspect another cause of her anger, " it con- 
 cerns me to see you standing while there is 
 this fair seat, and, with your leave, may I sit 
 beside you ? Can you give me a few minutes 
 of your time before we part I to go on my
 
 way and you on yours. I hope mine will 
 not bring me again to Paisley Castle, where 
 I am, as the hillmen would say, ' a stumbling- 
 block and an offence.' ' Jean, glancing 
 quickly at him, .saw that Claverhouse was 
 not mocking, but speaking with a note of 
 sad sincerity. 
 
 " When you said a brief while ago that 
 mine was work without glory, ye said truly. 
 But consider that in this confused and dark 
 world, in which we grope our way like shep- 
 herds in a mist, we have to do what lies to 
 our hand, and ask no questions and the 
 weariness of it is that in the darkness we 
 strike ane another. We know not which be 
 right and shall not know till the day breaks : 
 we maun just do our duty, and mine, by 
 every drop of my blood, is to the King and 
 the King's side. But mind ye, Lady Jean, 
 it will not be always through the moss-hags 
 chasing shepherds, ploughmen and sic- 
 like ; by-and-by it will be on the battle-field, 
 when this great quarrel is settled in Scotland. 
 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 and looked into the 
 far distance, while his face lost its changing 
 
 11
 
 162 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 expressions of cynicism, severity, gracious 
 courtesy and keen scrutiny, and showed a 
 nobility which Jean had never seen before. 
 She noticed how it invested his somewhat 
 effeminate beauty with manliness and 
 dignity. 
 
 " That is true " and Jean's voice grew 
 gentler " nane kens that better than my- 
 self, 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 before them, and do their part till the end 
 comes ; but the roads cross terribly on the 
 muirs in the West Country. If I was 
 uncivil a minute syne I crave your pardon, 
 for that was not my mind. But if rumour 
 be true it matters not to you what any man 
 says, far less my Lady Cochrane's daughter, 
 for ye were made to gang your ain gait." 
 
 " Ye are wrong there, Lady Jean, far 
 wrong. " Claverhouse suddenly turned round 
 and looked at her with a new countenance. 
 " I will not deny that I am made to be 
 careless about the strife of tongues, and to 
 give little heed whether the world condemns 
 or approves if I do my devoir rightly to my 
 lord the King. But it would touch me to 
 the heart what you thought of me. They
 
 "THY PEOPLE MY PEOPLE" 163 
 
 say that a woman knows if a man loves her, 
 even though his love be sudden and un- 
 likely, and if that be so, then surely you 
 have seen, as we walked in this pleasaunce 
 those fair evenings, that I have loved you 
 from the moment I saw you in the hall that 
 day. Confess it, Jean, if that be not so. I, 
 with what I heard of Pollock, was bound 
 in honour to be silent." 
 
 " Was Pollock the only bond of honour ? " 
 and Jean blazed on him with sudden fury. 
 " Is there no other tie that should keep you 
 from speaking of love to me and offering 
 me insult in my father's house ? Is this 
 the chivalry of a Royalist, and am I, Jean 
 Cochrane, to be treated like a light lady of 
 the Court, or some poor lass of the country- 
 side ye can play with at your leisure ? 
 Pleased by your notice and then flung 
 aside like a flower ye wore till it withered ? " 
 
 " Before God, what do you mean by those 
 words ? " They were both standing now, 
 and Graham's face was white as death. " Is 
 the love of John Graham of Claverhouse a 
 dishonour ? " 
 
 " It is, and so is the love of any man if 
 he be pledged to another woman. Though 
 we go not to Court, think you I have not
 
 heard of Helen Graham, the heiress of 
 Monteith, and your courting of her where, 
 the story goes, ye have been more successful 
 than catching ministers of the Kirk ? Ye 
 would play with me ! I thank God my 
 brother lives, and they say he is no mean 
 swordsman." 
 
 " If it were as you believe, my lady, and 
 I had spoken of love to you when I was 
 betrothed to another woman, then ye did 
 well and worthy of your blood to be angry, 
 and my Lord Cochrane's sword, if it had 
 found its way to my heart, had rid the 
 world of a rascal. Rumour is often wrong, 
 and it has told you false this time. I deny 
 not, since I am on my confession, that I 
 desired to wed Helen Graham, and I will 
 also say freely, though it also be to my 
 shame, that I desired to win her, not only 
 because she was a Graham and a gracious 
 maiden, but because I should obtain rank 
 and power, for I have ever hungered for 
 both, that with them I might serve my 
 cause. My suit did not prosper, so that 
 we were never betrothed, and now I hear 
 she is to be married to Captain Rawdon, 
 the nephew of my Lord Conway. I would 
 have married Helen Graham in her smock
 
 "THY PEOPLE MY PEOPLE" 165 
 
 if need be, though I say again I craved 
 that title, and I would have been a faithful 
 husband to her. But I have never loved 
 her, nor any other woman before. Love, 
 Jean" he went on, and they both uncon- 
 sciously had seated themselves a little apart 
 " is like the wind spoken of in the 
 Holy Gospel. It bloweth where it listeth, 
 and is not to be explained by reasons. In 
 my coming and going to Court I have seen 
 many fair women, and some of them have 
 smiled on me and tried to take me by the 
 lure of their eyes, but none has ever been 
 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 lain much among the saints, but 
 though one should show me a hundred 
 faults in you, ye are to me to-day the 
 best, and I declare if ye had sinned I would 
 love you for your sins only less than for 
 your virtues. I love you as a man should 
 love a woman : altogether, your fair body 
 from the crown 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
 
 166 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 cheek. Yourself, too, the Jean within that 
 body, with your courage, your pride, your 
 scorn, your temper, your fierce desires, your 
 fiery jealousies, your changing moods. And 
 your passion, with its demands, with its 
 surrenders, with its caresses, with its pain. 
 You, Jean Cochrane, as you are and as you 
 shall be, with all my heart and with all my 
 body, with all my loyalty, next to that I 
 give my King, I love you, Jean." He leaned 
 towards her as he spoke, and all the passion 
 that was hidden behind his girl face and 
 Court manner the passion that had made 
 him the most daring of soldiers, and was 
 to make him the most successful of leaders 
 poured from his eyes, from his lips, from 
 his whole self, like a hot stream, enveloping, 
 overwhelming and captivating her. Strong 
 as she was in will and character, she could 
 not speak nor move, but only looked at 
 him, with eyes wide open, from the midst 
 of the wealth of her golden hair. 
 
 " Do I not know the sacrifice I am ask- 
 ing if you should consent to be my wife ? 
 Jean, I will tell you true : not for my love 
 even and your bonnie self will I lie or palter 
 with my faith. You will have to come to 
 me, I will not go to you ; you will have
 
 "THY PEOPLE MY PEOPLE" 167 
 
 to break with the Covenant, leave your 
 father's house and face your mother's anger, 
 and be denounced by the godly, up and 
 down the land, because ye married the man 
 of blood and the persecutor of the saints. 
 I will not change, ye understand that ? No, 
 not for the warm, soft clasp of your white 
 arms round my neck ; no, not though ye 
 tie me with the meshes of your shining hair. 
 I judge that ye will not be a temptress, but 
 I give you warning I am no Samson, in 
 his weakness to a woman's witchery, when 
 it comes to my faith and my duty. I will 
 love you night and day as a man loveth a 
 woman, but I will do what I am told to 
 do, even though it be against your own 
 people, till the evil days be over. And it 
 may be, Jean, that 1 shall have to lead a 
 hopeless cause. Ye must be willing to give 
 me to death without a grudge, and send 
 me with a kiss to serve the King. 
 
 " Can you do this " and now his voice 
 sank almost to a whisper, and he stretched 
 his hands towards her "for the sake of 
 love, for love's sake only, for the sight of 
 my face, for the touch of my lips, for the 
 clasp of my arms, for the service of my 
 heart, for myself ? If ye should, I will be
 
 a true man to you, Jean, till death us do 
 part. I have not been better than other 
 men, but women have never made me play 
 the fool, and even your own folk, who hate 
 me, will tell you that I have been a clean 
 liver. And now I will never touch or look 
 on any other woman in the way of love 
 save you. If I have to leave your side to 
 serve the King, I will return when the work 
 is done, and all the time I am away my 
 love will be returning to you. If you be 
 not in my empty arms, you shall ever be 
 in my heart ; if I win honour 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 
 the cause, will be of you, my lady and my 
 love. 
 
 " Jean Cochrane, can you trust yourself 
 to me ; will you be the wife of John Graham 
 of Claverhouse ? " 
 
 They had risen as by an instinct, and 
 were facing one another where the light 
 of the setting sun fell softly upon them 
 through the fretted greenery of the beech 
 tree. 
 
 " For life, John Graham, and for death," 
 and as she said " death " he clasped her
 
 "THY PEOPLE MY PEOPLE" 169 
 
 in his arms. The brown hair mingled with 
 the gold, they looked into one another's 
 eyes, and their lips met in a long, passionate 
 kiss, renewed again and again, as if their 
 souls had flowed together. Then she dis- 
 entangled herself and stood a pace away, 
 and laying her hands upon his shoulders 
 and looking steadfastly at him, she said : 
 " Whither thou goest t will go, and where 
 thou lodgest I will lodge, thy people shall 
 be my people, and thy God my God." 
 
 The sooner they were married the better 
 pleased John Graham and Jean Cochrane 
 would be, for life in Paisley Castle could 
 not be a paradise for Jean after that be- 
 trothal. Three weeks later Claverhouse 
 rode down one Saturday from Edinburgh 
 to Paisley against his marriage day on the 
 following Tuesday. His love for Jean had 
 steadily grown during those days, 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 to 
 chasten and keep him sober. No sooner 
 was it known that he was to marry Lady 
 Cochrane's daughter and the granddaugh- 
 ter of Lord Cassilis than his rivals in the 
 high places of Scotland and at Whitehall
 
 170 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 did their best to injure him, setting abroad 
 stories that he was no longer loyal, and that 
 in future he would play into the hands 
 of the enemy. His young wife would cer- 
 tainly get round him and shake his integrity, 
 and it would not be wise to trust Claver- 
 house with secrets of grave affairs. It was 
 prophesied that this amazing and incon- 
 gruous marriage, the mating of opposites, 
 would only work ruin to his career, and 
 that indeed this was the beginning of the end 
 for Claverhouse. Lady Cochrane, raging 
 like a fiend in Paisley Castle, did not fail, 
 in the interludes of invective against her 
 daughter for disgracing their good name 
 and giving herself into the hands of the 
 cruellest enemy of the Kirk, to remind Jean 
 also that she was doing the worst injury 
 to the man she professed to love, and that 
 in the end Claverhouse would be twice 
 damned for his sin against the Covenan- 
 ters and for his disloyalty to his own cause. 
 Jean was, of all women, most capable of 
 holding her own even with her masterful 
 mother, and Claverhouse was perfectly 
 confident that neither Lady Cochrane nor 
 her family would be able to shake Jean's 
 fidelity. But there were times, and they
 
 "THY PEOPLE MY PEOPLE" 171 
 
 were her bitterest hours, when Jean was 
 not sure whether she had not done selfishly 
 and was not going to satisfy her love at the 
 expense of her lover. On his part, he could 
 not help being anxious, for it seemed as if 
 every man of his own party had turned his 
 hand against him. AVith all his severity, 
 Claverhouse had a just mind, and he 
 offended Queensberry by protesting against 
 the severity of the law ; while the Duke of 
 Perth, an unprincipled vagabond, ready to 
 play traitor to either King or religion, hated 
 Claverhouse because he was an honourable 
 man. Claverhouse thought it necessary to 
 write to the Duke of York, explaining 
 the circumstances of his marriage and as- 
 suring him of his continued loyalty, and to 
 the Duke of Hamilton, whose daughter 
 was to be married to young Lord Cochrane, 
 testifying to the integrity of Jean. " For 
 the young lady herself, I shall answer for 
 her. Had she been right principled she 
 would never in despyt of her mother and 
 relations made choyse of a persecutor, as 
 they call me. So, whoever think to mis- 
 represent me on that head will find 
 themselves mistaken ; for both the King 
 and the Church's interest, dryve as fast
 
 172 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 as they think fit, they will never see me 
 behind." 
 
 Lord Dundonald himself was pleased be- 
 cause the marriage secured Claverhouse's 
 influence, and so were his personal friends, 
 such as Lord Ross, who knew and admired 
 Jean ; Claverhouse could not hide from him- 
 self, however, that the world judged the mar- 
 riage an irreparable mistake, and Grimond, 
 so far as he dared but he had now to be 
 very careful rubbed salt into the wound. 
 All the omens were against them, and when 
 on the Sunday Claverhouse sat beside his 
 bride in the Abbey church, the people gave 
 them a cold countenance, and as they went 
 up the street true Presbyterians turned their 
 faces from Claverhouse. The marriage ser- 
 vice was performed in the gallery of the 
 castle, and the minister officiating was one 
 who had taken the indulgence and was 
 avoided by the stricter people of the Kirk. 
 The contract was signed by Lord Dundonald 
 and the old countess with weak and feeble 
 hands, but the bride and bridegroom placed 
 their names with strong and unhesitating 
 characters. Lord Ross stood beside his 
 commanding officer as best man, and young 
 Lord Cochrane was also present, full of
 
 "THY PEOPLE MY PEOPLE" 173 
 
 good-will and sympathy, for was he not 
 himself about to marry the daughter of 
 the Duke of Hamilton ? But neither Dun- 
 donald's weakly approval nor the gaiety of 
 the young men could lift the shadow that 
 fell within and without, both in the gallery 
 and in the courtyard of the castle, upon the 
 marriage of Claverhouse and Jean Cochrane. 
 News had come two days before that there 
 had been a rising among the Covenanters, 
 and Claverhouse was ordered to pursue them 
 with his cavalry. His regiment was in the 
 district, and while the service was going on 
 in the castle, his horse was saddled in the 
 courtyard, and a guard of troopers were 
 making ready to start. The sound of the 
 champing of bits and the clinking of spurs 
 came up through the quiet summer air and 
 mingled with the prayer of the minister. 
 Lady Cochrane was not supposed to be 
 present, but when the minister asked if any 
 one could show just cause why this mar- 
 riage should not be performed, she appeared 
 suddenly from an alcove where she had been 
 sheltered behind the 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
 
 174 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 of Jean Cochrane, forbid this marriage, be- 
 cause she is marrying against my will, and 
 joining herself to the persecutor of God's 
 people ; because she is turning herself against 
 her father's house and forsaking the faith 
 of her father's God." The minister paused 
 for a moment, for he was a quiet man and 
 stood in awe of Lady Cochrane ; he looked 
 anxiously at the bride and bridegroom. 
 " I have made my choice," said Jean, " and 
 I adhere to it with my mind and heart," 
 and Claverhouse, with a smile and bow, 
 bade the minister do his duty. When they 
 were married there was a moment's still- 
 ness, during which the bridegroom kissed the 
 bride, and then Lady Cochrane spoke again. 
 " Ye have gone your own way and done 
 your own will, John Graham and Jean 
 Cochrane, and the curse of God's Kirk and 
 of a mother goes with you. The veil is 
 lifted from before my eyes, and I prophesy 
 that neither the bridegroom nor the bride 
 will die in their beds. There are those here 
 present who will witness one day that I 
 have spoken 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
 
 "THY PEOPLE MY PEOPLE" 175 
 
 the door of her room he kissed her again 
 and bade her good-bye. " This is what ye 
 have got, Jean, by marrying me," and his 
 smile was dashed with sadness. Two 
 minutes later he rode out from the court- 
 yard of the castle to hunt the people of 
 Lady Cochrane's faith, while her daughter 
 and 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 the date of 
 our tale, Dudhope Castle, a good specimen 
 of Scots architecture, which in its severity 
 and strength is, like architecture everywhere, 
 the physical incarnation of national creed 
 and character. The hardness of Dudhope 
 was softened in those days by what was not 
 usual in the case of keeps and other warlike 
 buildings, for Dudhope was set in the midst 
 of sloping fields where cattle browsed, and 
 had also round it rising plantations of wood. 
 Before the castle there was a terrace, and 
 from it one looked down upon the little 
 town, nestling under the shelter of the 
 castle, and across the Firth of Tay to Fife, 
 where so much Scots history had been 
 
 176
 
 made. It was to Dudhope Claverhouse 
 brought his bride, after that stormy honey- 
 moon which she had to spend under the 
 shadow of her mother's hot displeasure in 
 Paisley Castle, and he occupied with the 
 weaiy hunt of Covenanters up and down the 
 West Country. Their wedding day was 
 the 10th of June, but it was not till August 
 that Claverhouse and his wife came home 
 to Dudhope. Since then four years have 
 passed, during which the monotony of his 
 duty in hunting Covenanters had been re- 
 lieved by the office of Provost of Dundee, 
 in which it is said he ruled severely, and the 
 sameness of Jean's life at Dudhope by a 
 visit to the Court of London, where she 
 produced a vast impression, and was said to 
 have been adored in the highest quarter. 
 There were hours when she felt very lonely, 
 although she would not have confessed this, 
 being a woman of invincible spirit and for- 
 tified by the courage of her love. She never 
 knew when her husband would be called 
 away for one of his hunts, and though there 
 were many Loyalist families in Forfarshire, 
 it was not a time for easy social intercourse, 
 and Jean was conscious that the Carnegies 
 and the rest of them of the old Cavalier 
 
 12
 
 178 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 stock looked askance at her, and suspected 
 the black Covenanting taint in her blood. 
 Claverhouse, like a faithful gentleman, had 
 done his best to conceal from her the injury 
 which his marriage had done him, but she 
 knew that his cunning and bitter enemy, the 
 Duke of Queensberry, had constantly in- 
 sinuated into the mind of the Duke of York 
 and various high personages in London that 
 no one who had married Lady Cochrane's 
 daughter could, in the nature of things, be 
 perfectly loyal. It was really for this love that 
 he had lost the post of commander-in-chief 
 in Scotland, to which he was distinctly enti- 
 tled, and had experienced the insult of having 
 his name removed from the Scots Council. 
 It might be her imagination, but it seemed 
 as if his fellow officers and other friends, 
 whom she met from time to time, were not 
 at ease with her. She was angry when they 
 refrained from their customary frank ex- 
 pressions about her mother's party, just as 
 she would have been angry if they had said 
 the things they were accustomed to say, in 
 her presence. Claverhouse assured her on 
 those happy days when he was living at 
 Dudhope, and when they could be lovers 
 among the woods there, as they had been in
 
 ONE FEARLESS MAN 179 
 
 the pleasaunce at Paisley Castle, that he 
 never regretted his choice, and that she was 
 the inspiration of his life. It was pleasant 
 to hear him repeat his love vows, with a 
 passion as hot and words as moving as in 
 the days of their courtship, and the very 
 contrast between his unbending severity as 
 a soldier and his grace as a lover made him 
 the more fascinating to a woman who was 
 herself of the lioness breed. All the same, 
 she could not forget that Claverhouse would 
 have done better for himself if he had 
 married into one of the great Scots houses of 
 his own party and there were few in which 
 he would not have been welcome and that 
 indeed he could not have done much worse 
 for his future than in marrying her. It was 
 a day of keen rivalry among the Royalists, 
 andamore unprincipled and disreputable gang 
 than the King's Scots ministers could not 
 be found in any land ; indeed Claverhouse 
 was the only man of honour amongst them. 
 His battle to hold his own and achieve his 
 legitimate ambition was very hard, and cer- 
 tainly he needed no handicap. Jean Graham 
 was haunted with the reflection that Claver- 
 house's wife, instead of being a help, was a 
 hindrance to her husband, and that if it were
 
 not for the burden of her Covenanting name, 
 he would have climbed easily to the highest 
 place. Nor could she relish the change of 
 attitude of the common people towards her, 
 and the difference in atmosphere between 
 Paisley and Dundee. Once she had been 
 accustomed to receive a respectful, though 
 it might be awkward, salutation from the 
 dour West Country folk, and to know that, 
 though in her heart she was not in sympathy 
 with them, the people in the town, where 
 her mother reigned supreme, felt kindly 
 towards her, as the daughter of that godly 
 Covenanting lady. In Dundee, where the 
 ordinary people sided with the Presbyterians 
 and only the minority were with the Bishops, 
 men turned away their faces when she passed 
 through the place, and the women cried 
 " Bloody Claverse ! " as she passed. She 
 knew without any word of abuse that both 
 she and her husband were bitterly hated, 
 because he was judged a persecutor and she 
 a renegade. They were two of the proudest 
 people in Scotland, but although Claverhouse 
 gave no sign that he cared for the people's 
 loathing, she often suspected that he felt it, 
 being a true Scots gentleman, and although 
 Jean pretended to despise Covenanting fan-
 
 ONE FEARLESS MAN 181 
 
 aticism, she would rather have been loved by 
 the folk round her than hated. While she 
 declared to Graham that her deliverance 
 from her mother's party, with their sermons, 
 their denunciations, their narrowness and 
 that horrible Covenant, had been a passage 
 from bondage to liberty, there were times, 
 as she paced the terrace alone and looked 
 out on the grey sea of the east coast, when 
 the contradictory circumstances of her life 
 beset her and she was troubled. When she 
 was forced to listen to the interminable 
 harangues of hill preachers, sheltering for 
 a night in the 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 
 were vermin to be trapped, and as if no one 
 had breeding or honour or intelligence or 
 sincerity except the Cavaliers, she was again 
 goaded into opposition. Jean had made 
 her choice both of her man and of her cause 
 for they went together with her eyes 
 open, and she was not a woman to change 
 again, nor to vex herself with vain regrets. 
 It was rather her nature to decide once 
 for all, and then to throw herself without
 
 reserve into her cause, and to follow without 
 question her man through good report and 
 ill, through right, and, if need be, wrong. 
 Yet she was a shrewd and high-minded 
 woman, and not one of those fortunate 
 fanatics who can see nothing but good on 
 one side, and nothing but ill on the other. 
 Life had grown intolerable in her mother's 
 house, and Jean had not ii\ her the making 
 of a convinced and thoroughgoing Cove- 
 nanter ; and in going over to the other party, 
 she had, on the whole, fulfilled herself, as 
 well as found a mate of the same proud 
 spirit. But she was honest enough to admit 
 to herself that those Ayrshire peasants were 
 dying for conscience' sake, though she might 
 think it a narrow conscience, and were sin- 
 cere in their piety, though she might think 
 it an unattractive religion. And she could 
 not shut her eyes to the fact that there was 
 little glory in shooting them down like muir- 
 fowl, or that the men of Claverhouse's side 
 were too often drunken and evil-living 
 bravos. 
 
 Jean was feeling the situation in its acute- 
 ness that evening as she read for the third 
 time a letter which had come from Edin- 
 burgh by the hands of Grimond. At the
 
 sight of the writing her pulse quickened, 
 and Grimond marked, with jealous dis- 
 pleasure (for that impracticable Scot never 
 trusted Jean), the flush of love upon her 
 cheek and its joy in her eyes. She now 
 drew the letter from her bosom, and this 
 is what she read, but in a different spelling 
 from ours and with some slight differences 
 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 
 yours 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
 
 184 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 wedding-bells, and your mother's curse our benedic- 
 tion, 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 alsollike it a new mar- 
 riage-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 
 no 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 preach- 
 ing 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
 
 ONE FEARLESS MAX 185 
 
 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" 1 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.
 
 186 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 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 die by Claver- 
 house's doing, and now she had not been a 
 woman if her heart were not divided that 
 evening between her lovers, although she
 
 ONE FEARLESS MAN 187 
 
 had no hesitation either then or in the past 
 about her preference. Jean knew she was 
 not made to be the wife of an ascetic, but 
 never could she forget the look in Pollock's 
 eyes when he told her of his love, nor cease 
 to be proud that he had done her the chief 
 honour a man can render to a woman. She 
 knew then, and she knew better to-day, that 
 she had never loved Pollock, and never 
 indeed could have loved him as a woman 
 loves her husband. But she revered him 
 then, and he would have for ever a place in 
 her heart like the niche given to a saint, and 
 she hoped that his prayers for her for she 
 knew he would intercede for her would be 
 answered in the highest. Nor could she 
 refrain from the comparison between Pollock 
 and Graham. In some respects they were 
 so like one another, both being men of 
 ancient blood and high tradition, both carry- 
 ing themselves without shame and without 
 fear, both being fanatics the one for religion 
 and the other for loyalty and, it might be, 
 both alike to be martyrs for their faith. 
 And so unlike the one unworldly, spiritual,, 
 and, save in self-defence, gentle and meek ; 
 the other charged with high ambition, foncl 
 of power, ready for battle, gracious in gay
 
 society, passionate in love. Who had the 
 better of it--in the fight her debonair hus- 
 band, with his body-guard of dragoons, 
 striking down and capturing a minister and 
 a handful of shepherds, [or that pure soul, 
 who lived preaching and praying, and was 
 willing to die praying and fighting against 
 hopeless odds ? She had cast in her lot 
 with the Royalists, but* it came over her 
 that in the eternal justice Pollock, dying on 
 the scaffold, was already' victor, and Graham, 
 who sent him there, was already the loser. 
 If it had been cruel writing for Claverhouse, 
 it was cruel reading for his wife, and yet, 
 when she had read it over again, the passage 
 about Pollock faded away as if it had been 
 spiritualised and no longer existed for the 
 earthly sense. She only lingered over the 
 words of devotion and passion, and when 
 she kissed again and again his_signature she 
 knew that whether he was to win or to be 
 beaten, whether he was right or wrong, 
 angel or devil and he was neither she 
 belonged with her whole desire to Claver- 
 house. 
 
 Claverhouse's letter to his wife was writ- 
 ten in May, and by October his gloomy 
 forebodings regarding the King were being
 
 ONE FEARLESS MAN 189 
 
 verified. During the autumn William of 
 Orange had been preparing to invade Eng- 
 land, and it was freely said he would come 
 on the invitation of the English people and 
 as the champion of English liberty. From 
 the beginning of the crisis James was badly 
 advised, and showed neither nerve nor dis- 
 cernment, and among other foolish measures 
 was the withdrawal of the regular troops 
 from Scotland and their concentration in 
 London. From London James made a 
 feeble campaign in the direction of the 
 west, and Claverhouse, who was in com- 
 mand of the Scots Cavalry, and whose 
 mind was torn between contempt for 
 the feebleness of the military measures 
 and impatience to be at the enemy r 
 wrote to Jean, sending her, as it seemed 
 to be his lot, mixed news of honour and 
 despair. 
 
 For the fair hands of the Viscountess of Dundee, 
 and Lady Graham of Claverhouse. 
 
 MY DEAEEST 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 
 honour His Majesty has bestowed upon me, and 
 which I count the more precious because it bringeth
 
 190 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 L on our to her who is dearer to me than life, and 
 who has suffered much trouble through me. Hither- 
 to 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 favour 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 
 Councillor, Major-General John Graham of Claver- 
 house ; 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 
 Peversham it hurts me to reflect on the King
 
 ONE FEARLESS MAN 191 
 
 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" 1 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 preach- 
 ing 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 
 honour 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
 
 192 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 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 reinforce the 
 King's advisers, and his cause fell rapidly to 
 pieces. Claverhouse withdrew the Scots 
 Cavalry to the neighbourhood of London, 
 and wore out his heart in the effort to put 
 manhood into his party, which was now 
 occupied in looking after their own interests 
 in the inevitable revolution. And again 
 Claverhouse, or, as we should call him, 
 Dundee, wrote to Jean : 
 
 DEADEST 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 rar harder for 
 me than when I campaigned with the Usurper, and 
 fought joyfully at Seneff'e 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
 
 ONE FEARLESS MAN 193 
 
 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 yester- 
 day 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 favour 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 
 
 13
 
 194 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 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 Dutch- 
 man 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 
 for ever, bade good-bye 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
 
 ONE FEARLESS MAN 195 
 
 amazement that the stranger, who was not in uniform, 
 and did not court observation, was Captain Carleton, 
 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" 1 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 gentle- 
 man to Zion House ? " Then I knew that he had 
 come from the Prince, and altho 1 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,
 
 196 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 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 
 
 counsel 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 compel 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 honour then ye will see 
 
 me soon in Dudhope for another honeymoon, but
 
 ONE FEARLESS MAN 197 
 
 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 a bitter morning 
 in March when Dundee took another of 
 his many farewells before he left his wife 
 to attend the Convention at Edinburgh. 
 It was only a month since he had come 
 down from London, disheartened for the 
 moment by the treachery of Royalists and 
 the timidity of James, and he had found 
 relief in administering municipal affairs 
 as Provost of Dundee. If it had been 
 possible in consistence with his loyalty to 
 the Jacobite cause, and the commission he 
 had received from James, Dundee would 
 have gladly withdrawn from public life and 
 lived quietly with his wife. He was an 
 ambitious man, and of stirring spirit, but 
 none knew better the weakness of his party, 
 and no one on his side had been more 
 
 198
 
 THE CRISIS 199 
 
 shamefully treated. It had been his lot to 
 leave his bride on their marriage day, and 
 now it would be harder to leave her at a 
 time when every, husband desires to be near 
 his wife. But the summons to be present 
 at the Convention had come, and its busi- 
 ness was to decide who should be King of 
 Scotland, for though William had succeeded 
 to the throne of England, James still reigned 
 in law over the northern kingdom. Dun- 
 dee could not be absent at the deposition of 
 his king and the virtual close of the Stuart 
 dynasty. As usual he would be one of a 
 beaten party, or perhaps might stand alone ; 
 it was not his friends but his enemies who 
 were calling him to Edinburgh, and the 
 chances were that the hillmen would 
 settle their account with him by assassina- 
 tion. His judgment told him that his 
 presence in Edinburgh would be fruitless, 
 and his heart held him to his home. Yet 
 day after day he put off his going. It was 
 now the thirteenth of March, and to-morrow 
 the Convention would meet, and if he were 
 to go he must go quickly. He had been 
 tossed in mind and troubled in heart, but 
 the instinct of obedience to duty which 
 Graham had obeyed through good report
 
 200 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 and evil, without reserve, and without 
 scruple, till he had done not only the things 
 he ought to have done, but many things also 
 which he ought not to have done, finally 
 triumphed. He had told Jean that morning 
 that he must leave. His little escort of 
 troopers were saddling their horses, 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 were saying 
 their last words before this new adventure, for 
 they both knew that every departure might 
 be the final parting. They were standing 
 at the door, and nothing could be greyer 
 than their outlook. For a haar had come 
 up from the sea, as is common on the east 
 coast, and the cold and dripping mist 
 blotted out the seaview ; it hid the town 
 of Dundee, which lay below Dudhope, and 
 enveloped the castle in its cold garments, 
 like a shroud, and chilled Graham and his 
 wife to the very bone. 
 
 " Ye will acknowledge, John, that I have 
 never hindered you when the call came." 
 As she spoke Jean took his flowing hair 
 in her hand, and he had never seen her so 
 gentle before, for indeed she could not be 
 called a soft or tender woman.
 
 THE CRISIS 201 
 
 " Ye told me what would be the way of 
 life for us, and it has been what ye said, and 
 I have not complained. But this day I wish 
 to God that ye could have stayed, for when 
 my hour comes, and it is not far off, ye ken 
 I will miss you sairly. Other women have 
 their mothers with them in that strait, but 
 for me there is none ; naebody but strangers. 
 If ony evil befall thee, John, it w r ill go ill 
 with me, and I have in my keeping the hope 
 of your house. Can ye no bide quietly here 
 with me and let them that have the power 
 do as they will in Edinburgh ? No man 
 of your own party has ever thanked you for 
 anything ye did, and if my mother's people 
 do their will by you, I shall surely die and 
 the child with me. And that will be the 
 end of the House of Dundee. Must ye 
 go and leave me ? " And now her arm was 
 round him, and with the other hand she 
 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 and stroking the proud head, 
 which he had never seen bowed before. 
 
 " You are, I believe in my soul, the bravest
 
 202 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 woman in Scotland, and I wish to God the 
 men on our side had only had the heart of 
 my Lady Dundee. With a hundred men 
 and your spirit in them, Jean, we had 
 driven William of Orange into the sea, or, at 
 the worst, we should certainly save Scotland 
 for the King. Well and bravely have ye 
 stood by me since our marriage day, and if 
 I had ever consulted my own safety or sought 
 after private ends, I believe ye would have 
 been the first 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 wedding day. 
 
 " Do not make little of yourself, Jean, be- 
 cause your heart is sore and ye canna keep 
 back the tears. It is not given to a man 
 to understand what a woman feels in your 
 place, but I am trying to imagine, and my 
 love is suffering with you, sweetheart. I 
 do pity you, and I could weep with you, 
 but tears are strange to my eyes God 
 made me soft without and hard within 
 and I have a better medicine to help you 
 than pity." Still he was caressing her, 
 but she felt his body straightening within 
 the armour. 
 
 " When ye prophesy that the fanatics of
 
 THE CRISIS 203 
 
 the west will be at me in Edinburgh, I sus- 
 pect ye are right, but I pray you not to 
 trouble yourself overmuch. They have shot 
 at me before with leaden bullets and with 
 silver, trying me first as a man and next as 
 a devil, but no bullet touched me, and now 
 if they fall back upon the steel there are two 
 or three trusty lads with me who can use 
 the sword fairly well, and though your hus- 
 band be not a large man, Jean, none has 
 had the better of him when it came to 
 sword-play. So cheer up, lass, for I may 
 fall some day, but it will not be at the 
 hands of a skulking Covenanter in a street 
 brawl. 
 
 " But if this should come to pass, Jean 
 and the future is^ known only to God then 
 I beseech you that ye be worthy of your- 
 self, and show them that ye are my Lady 
 Dundee. If I fall, then ye must live, and 
 take good care that the unborn child shall 
 live, too, and if he be a boy as I am sure 
 he will be then ye have your life-work. 
 Train him up in the good faith and in 
 loyalty to the King ; tell him how Montrose 
 fought for the good cause and died for it, 
 and how his own father followed in the steps 
 of the Marquis. Train him for the best
 
 204 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 life a man can live and make him a soldier, 
 and lay upon him from his youth that ye 
 will not die till he has avenged his father's 
 murder. That will be worthy of your blood 
 and your rank, aye, and the love which has 
 been between us, Jean Cochrane and John 
 Graham." 
 
 She held him in her arms till the very 
 breastplate was warm, and she kissed him 
 twice upon the lips. Then she raised her- 
 self to her full height and she was as tall 
 as Graham and looking proudly at him, 
 she said : 
 
 " Ye have put strength into me, as if the 
 iron which covers your breast had passed into 
 my blood. Ye go to-day with my full will 
 to serve the King, and God protect and 
 prosper you, my husband and my Lord 
 Dundee." 
 
 For a space the heat of Jean's high cour- 
 age cheered her husband's heart, but as the 
 day wore on, and hour by hour he rode 
 through the cold grey mist which covered 
 Fife, the temperature of his heart began 
 to correspond with the atmosphere. While 
 Dundee had always carried himself bravely 
 before men, and had kept his misgivings to 
 himself, and seemed the most indifferent of
 
 THE CRISIS 205 
 
 gay Cavaliers, he had really been a modest 
 and diffident man. From the first he had 
 had grave fears of the success of his cause, 
 and more than doubts about the loyalty of 
 his comrades. He was quite prepared not 
 only for desperate effort, but for final defeat. 
 No man could say he had embarked on the 
 royal service from worldly ends, and now, if 
 he had been a shrewd Lowland Scot, he had 
 surely consulted his safety and changed his 
 side, as most of his friends were doing. 
 Graham did not do this for an imperative 
 reason because he had been so made that 
 he could not. There are natures which are 
 not consciously dishonest or treacherous, but 
 which are flexible and accommodating. They 
 are open to the play of every influence, and 
 are sensitive to environment ; they are loyal 
 when others are loyal, but if there be a change 
 in spirit round them they immediately corre- 
 spond, and they do so not from any selfish 
 calculation, but merely through a quick 
 adaptation to environment. People of this 
 kind find themselves by an instinct on the 
 winning side, but they would be mightily 
 offended if they were charged with being 
 opportunists. They are at each moment 
 thoroughly convinced of their integrity,
 
 206 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 and are ever on the side which commends it- 
 self to their judgment ; if it happens to be 
 the side on which the sun is shining, that 
 is a felicitous accident. There are other 
 natures, narrower possibly and more intract- 
 able, whose chief quality is a thoroughgoing 
 and masterful devotion, perhaps to a person, 
 perhaps to a cause. Once this devotion is 
 given, it can never be changed by any cir- 
 cumstance except the last and most inex- 
 cusable treachery, and then it will be apt to 
 turn into a madness of hatred which nothing 
 will appease. There is no optimism in this 
 character, very often a clear-sighted and 
 painful acceptance of facts ; faults are dis- 
 tinctly seen and difficulties are estimated at 
 their full strength, sacrifice is discounted, 
 and defeat is accepted. But the die is cast, 
 and for weal or woe most likely woe they 
 must go on their way and fight the fight to 
 the end. This was the mould in which Dun- 
 dee was cast, the heir of shattered hopes, and 
 the descendant of broken men, the servant 
 of a discredited and condemned cause. He 
 faced the reality, and knew that he had only 
 one chance out of a hundred of success ; but 
 it never entered his mind to yield to circum- 
 stances and accept the new situation. There
 
 THE CRISIS 207 
 
 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-bye and was riding through the 
 cold grey mist to do his weary, hopeless best 
 for an obstinate, foolish, impracticable king, 
 and to put some heart, if it were possible, 
 into a dwindling handful of unprincipled, 
 self-seeking, double-minded men. The day 
 was full of omens, and they were all against 
 him. Twice a hare ran across the road, and 
 Grimond muttered to himself as he rode be- 
 hind his master, " The ill-faured beast." As 
 they passed through Glenfarg, a raven fol- 
 lowed them for a mile, croaking weirdly. A 
 trooper's horse stumbled and fell, and the 
 man had to be left behind, insensible. When 
 they halted for an hour at Kinross it spread 
 among the people who they were, and they 
 were watched by hard, unsympathetic faces. 
 The innkeeper gave them what they needed, 
 but with ill grace, and it was clear that only 
 fear of Dundee prevented him refusing food 
 both to man and beast. When they left a 
 crowd had gathered, and as they rode out 
 from the village a voice cried : " Woe unto 
 the man of blood a double woe ! He goeth,
 
 208 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 but he shall not return, his doom is fixed." 
 An approving murmur from the hearers 
 showed what the Scots folk thought of John 
 Graham. Grimond would fain have turned 
 and answered this Jeremiah and his chorus 
 with a touch of the sword, but his com- 
 mander forbade him sharply. "We have 
 other men to deal with," he said to Grimond, 
 " than country fanatics, and our work is be- 
 fore us in Edinburgh." But he would not 
 have been a Scot if he had been indifferent 
 to signs, and this raven-croak the whole day 
 long rang in his heart. The sun struggled 
 for a little through the mist, and across Loch 
 Leven they saw on its island the prison-house 
 of Mary. " Grimond," said Graham, " there 
 is where they kept her, and by this road she 
 went out on her last hopeless ride, and we 
 follow her, Jock. But not to a prison, ye 
 may stake your soul on that. It was enough 
 that one Graham should die upon a scaffold. 
 The next will die in the open field." 
 
 It was late when they reached Edinburgh, 
 and a murky night when they rode up Leith 
 Wynd ; the tall houses of Edinburgh hung 
 over them ; the few lights struggled against 
 the thick, enveloping air. Figures came 
 out of one dark passage, and disappeared
 
 THE CRISIS 209 
 
 into another. A body of Highlanders, in 
 the Campbell tartan, for a moment blocked 
 the way. Twice they were cursed by 
 unknown voices, and when Claverhouse 
 reached his lodging some one called out his 
 name, and added : " The day of vengeance 
 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, the only men left to 
 consult for the royal cause, and both knew 
 what was going to be the issue. 
 
 " There is no use blinding our eyes, Bal- 
 carres," said Graham, " or feeding our hearts 
 with vain hopes ; the Convention is for the 
 Prince of Orange, and is done with King 
 James. The men who kissed his hand yes- 
 terday, when he was in power, and would 
 have licked his feet if that had got them 
 place and power, will be the first to cast him 
 forth and cry huzza for the new king. There 
 is a black taint in the Scots blood, and there 
 always have been men in high position to 
 sell their country. The lords of the congrega- 
 tion were English traitors in Mary's day, and 
 on them as much as that wanton Elizabeth 
 lay her blood. It was a Scots army sold 
 
 14
 
 210 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 Charles I to the Roundheads, and it would 
 have been mair decent to have beheaded 
 him at Edinburgh. And now they will 
 take the ancient throne of auld Scotland 
 and hand it over, without a stroke, to a 
 cold-blooded foreigner who has taught his 
 wife to 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 party be false-hearted cowards. Lord, 
 if we could set the one against the other, 
 Argyle's Highlanders against the West 
 Country Whigs, it were a bonnie piece of 
 work, and if they fought till death the coun- 
 try were well rid o' baith, for I know not 
 whether 1 hate mair bitterly a Covenanter 
 or a Campbell. But it would set us better, 
 Balcarres, to keep our breath to cool oor 
 ain porridge. What is this I hear, that 
 Athole is playing the knave, and that Gordon 
 cannot be trusted to keep the castle ? Has 
 the day come upon us that the best names 
 in Scotland are to be dragged in the mire ? 
 I sairly doot that for the time the throne 
 is lost to the auld line, but if it is to be sold 
 by the best blood of Scotland, then I wish 
 their silver bullet had found John Graham's 
 heart at Drumclog."
 
 THE CRISIS 211 
 
 " Ye maunna deal ower hardly with 
 A thole, Dundee, for I will not say he isna 
 true. His son, mind you, is on the other 
 side, and Athole himself is a man broken in 
 body. These be trying times, and it is not 
 every ane has your heart. It may be that 
 Athole and other men judge that every- 
 thing has been done that can, and that a 
 heavy burden o' guilt will rest on ony man 
 that spills blood without reason. Mind you," 
 went on Balcarres hastily, as he saw the 
 black gloom gathering on Dundee's face, 
 " I say not that is my way of it, for I am 
 with you while ony hope remains, but we 
 maun do justice." 
 
 " Justice ! " broke in Claverhouse, irri- 
 tated beyond control by Balcarres's apologies 
 and his hint of compromise. " If I had my 
 way of it, every time-serving trickster in the 
 land would have justice a rope round his 
 neck and a long drop, for a bullet would be 
 too honourable a death. But let Athole 
 pass. He was once a loyal man, and there 
 may be reason in what ye say. I have never 
 known sickness myself, and doubtless it 
 weakens even strong men. But what is 
 this I hear of Gordon ? Is it a lie that he 
 is trafficking with Hamilton and the Whig
 
 212 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 lords to surrender the castle? If so, 
 he is the most damnable traitor of them 
 all, and will have his place with Judas 
 Iscariot." 
 
 " Na, na, Dundee, nae Gordon has ever 
 been false, though I judge maist o' them, 
 since Mary's day, have been foolish. Con- 
 cerning the castle, this is how the matter 
 stands, and I pray you to hear me patiently 
 and not to fly out till I have finished." 
 
 " For God's sake, speak out and speak on, 
 and dinna sit watching me as if you were 
 terrified for your life, and dinna pick your 
 words, like a double-dealing, white-blooded 
 Whig lawyer, or I will begin to think that 
 the leprosy of cowardice has reached the 
 Lindsays." 
 
 " Weel, Dundee " but Balcarres was still 
 very careful with his words " I have reason 
 to believe, and, in fact, I may as well say I 
 know, that there have been some goings 
 and comings between Gordon and the 
 Lords of Convention. I will not say that 
 Gordon isna true to the King, and that he 
 would not hold the castle if it would help 
 the cause. But I am judging that he isna 
 minded to be left alone and keep Edinburgh 
 Castle for King James if all Scotland is for
 
 THE CRISIS 213 
 
 King William." And Balcarres, plucking up 
 courage in the face of his fierce companion, 
 added : "I will not say, Dundee, that the 
 duke is wrong. What use would it be if 
 he did ? But mind you," went on Balcarres 
 hastily, "he hasna promised to surrender 
 his trust. He is just waiting to see what 
 happens." 
 
 " Which they have all been doing, every 
 woman's son of them, instead of minding 
 their duty whatever happens ; but I grant 
 there's no use raging, we maun make our 
 plans. What does Gordon want if he's 
 holding his hand ? Out with it, Balcarres, 
 for I see from your face ye ken." 
 
 " If the duke," replied Balcarres, " had 
 ony guarantee that a fight would be made 
 for the auld line in Scotland, and that he 
 would not be left alane, like a sparrow upon 
 the housetop in Edinburgh Castle, I make 
 certain he would stand fast ; but if the royal 
 standard is to be seen nowhere else except 
 on one keep strong though that be the 
 duke will 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
 
 214 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 assurance this very nicht. It's a fair and 
 just pledge he asks, and I know the man 
 who'll give it to him. Edinburgh will no 
 be the only place in the land where the good 
 standard flies before many days are passed. 
 Man ! Balcarres, this is good news ye have 
 brought, and I am glad to ken that there is 
 still red blood in Gordon's heart. I'm think- 
 ing ye've had your own communings wi' 
 the duke, and that ye ken the by-roads to 
 the castle. Settle it that he and I can meet 
 this very nicht, and if need be I'll be ready 
 to leave the morrow's morning. Aye, Bal- 
 carres, if the duke holds the fastness, I'll 
 look after the open country." And before 
 daybreak there was a meeting 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 would be only one 
 more. 
 
 While his master had been reinforcing 
 the duke's determination and giving pledges 
 of thoroughness, Grimond had been doing 
 his part to secure Dundee's safety in the 
 seat of his enemies. Edinburgh was swarm- 
 ing with West Country Whigs, whose day
 
 THE CRISIS 215 
 
 of victory had come, and who had hurried 
 to the capital that they might make the 
 most of it. No one could blame them for 
 their exultation, least of all Claverhouse. 
 They had been hunted like wild beasts, they 
 had been scattered when worshipping God 
 according to the fashion of their fathers, 
 they had been shot down without a trial, 
 they had been shut up in noisome prisons 
 and all this because they would not submit 
 to the most corrupt government ever known 
 in Scotland, and that most intolerable kind 
 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. It is 
 his name rather than that of Dalziel or 
 Lauderdale which has been passed with 
 execration from mouth to mouth and from 
 generation to generation in Scotland. The 
 tyrant James had fled, like the coward he 
 was, and God's deliverer had come a man 
 of their own faith in William of Orange. 
 The iron doors had been burst and the 
 fetters had been broken, there was liberty 
 to hear the word of the Lord again, and 
 the Kirk of Scotland was once more free.
 
 216 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 Justice was being done, but it would not 
 be perfect till Claverhouse suffered the pen- 
 alty of his crimes. It had been the hope 
 of many a dour Covenanter, infuriated by 
 the wrongs of his friends, if not his own, 
 to strike down Claverhouse and avenge the 
 sufferings of God's people. Satan had 
 protected his own, but now the man of 
 blood was given into their hands. Surely it 
 was the doing of the Lord that Dundee 
 should have left Dudhope, where he was in 
 stronghold, and come up to Edinburgh, 
 where his friends were few. That he should 
 go at large upon the streets and take his 
 seat in the Convention, that he should dare 
 to plot against William and lift a hand for 
 James in this day of triumph, was his last 
 stroke of insolence the drop which filled 
 his cup to overflowing. He had come to 
 Edinburgh, to which he had sent many a 
 martyr of the Covenant, and where he had 
 seen Henry Pollock die for Christ's crown 
 and the Scots Kirk. Behold 1 was it not 
 a sign, and was it not the will of the 
 Lord that in this high place, where godly 
 men had been murdered by him, his blood 
 should be spilled as an offering unto the 
 Lord?
 
 THE CRISIS 217 
 
 This was what the hillmen were saying 
 among themselves as they gathered in their 
 meetings and communed together in their 
 lodgings. They were not given to public 
 vapouring, and were much readier to strike 
 than to speak, but when there are so many, 
 and their hearts are so hot, a secret cannot 
 be easily kept. And Grimond, who con- 
 cealed much shrewdness behind a stolid 
 face which is the way with Scots peasants- 
 caught some suspicious words as two un- 
 mistakable Covenanters passed 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. He followed 
 the pair as if he were a countryman gaping 
 at the sights of the town and the stir of 
 those days, when armed men passed on every 
 side and the air was thick with rumours. 
 When the Covenanters, after glancing 
 round, plunged down a dark entry and into 
 an obscure tavern, Grimond, after a pause, 
 followed cautiously, assuming as best he 
 could and not unsuccessfully the manner 
 of a man from the west. The outer room 
 was empty when he entered, and he was 
 careful when he got his measure of ale to 
 bend his head over it for at least five
 
 218 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 minutes by 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 dark corner, from which he 
 saw one after another of the saints pass 
 into an inner chamber. Between the two 
 rooms there was a wooden partition, and 
 through a crack in the boarding Grimond 
 was able to see and hear what was going on. 
 It was characteristic of the men that they 
 opened their conference of assassination 
 with prayer, in which the sorrows of the 
 past were mentioned with a certain pathos, 
 and thanks given for the great deliverance 
 which had been wrought. Then they asked 
 wisdom and strength to finish the Lord's 
 work, and to rid the land of the chief of 
 the Amalekites, after which they made their 
 plan. Although Grimond could not catch 
 everything that was said, he gathered clearly 
 that when Claverhouse left his lodging to 
 attend the Convention on the morning of the 
 fifteenth of March, they would be waiting 
 in the narrow way, as if talking with friends, 
 and would slay the persecutor before he 
 could summon help. When it was agreed 
 who should be present, and what each one 
 should do, they closed their meeting, as
 
 THE CRISIS 219 
 
 they had opened it, with prayer. One of 
 them glanced suspiciously round the kitchen 
 as he passed through, but saw no man, for 
 Grimond had quietly departed. He knew 
 his master's obstinate temper and reckless 
 courage, and was afraid if he told him of 
 the plot that he would give no heed, or 
 trust to his own sword. " We'll run no 
 risks," said Grimond to himself, and next 
 morning a dozen troopers of Claverhouse's 
 regiment guarded the entry to his lodging, 
 and a dozen more were scattered handily 
 about the street. They followed him to 
 the Convention and waited till he re- 
 turned. That was how Claverhouse lived 
 to fight the battle of Killiecrankie, but 
 till that day came he had never been 
 so near death as in that narrow way of 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 Dundee was not a prudent man, and he 
 was very fearless, but for once he consulted 
 common-sense and made ready to leave 
 Edinburgh. It was plain that the Conven- 
 tion would elect William to the throne of 
 Scotland, and as the days passed it was also 
 very bitter to him that the Jacobites were 
 not very keen about the rising. When 
 he learned that his trusted friends were
 
 220, GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 going to attend the Convention, and did 
 not propose with undue haste to raise the 
 standard for the King, Dundee concluded 
 that if anything should be done, it would not 
 be by such 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 upon the street with 
 fifty of his troopers, mounted and armed, 
 there was a wild idea of arresting him, but 
 it came to nothing. There was not time 
 to gather the hillmen together, and there 
 was no heart in the others to face this 
 desperate man and his body-guard. With 
 his men behind him, he rode down Leith 
 Wynd unmolested, and when some one 
 cried, " Where art thou going, Lord 
 Dundee ? " he turned him round in the 
 saddle and answered, " Whither the spirit of 
 Montrose will lead me." A fortnight later, 
 in front of his house at Dudhope, he raised 
 the standard for King James, and Jean 
 Cochrane, a mother now, holding their 
 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 he left her and their child, to see her 
 only once again a cruel meeting, before
 
 THE CRISIS 221 
 
 he fell. Verily, a life of storm and stress, 
 of bitter conflicts and many partings. 
 Verily, a man whom, right or wrong, the 
 fates 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 hero and sing his achieve- 
 ments from beginning to end. And the 
 more faultless and brilliant the hero, the 
 better goes the tale, and the louder the 
 applause. Certainly John Graham is the 
 central figure in this history, and so rich is 
 the colour of the man and so intense his 
 vitality, that other personages among whom 
 he moves become pale and uninteresting. 
 They had, if one takes the long result, a 
 larger share in affairs, and their hand stretches 
 across the centuries, but there was not in 
 them that charm of humanity which capti- 
 vates the heart. We must study the work 
 of William of Orange if we are to understand 
 the history of his nation, but one would not 
 go round the corner to meet him. Claver- 
 house, if one faces the facts and sweeps away 
 the glamour, was only a dashing cavalry 
 
 222
 
 THE LAST BLOW 223 
 
 officer, who happened to win an insignificant 
 battle by obvious local tactics, and yet there 
 are few men whom one would prefer to meet. 
 One would make a long journey to catch a 
 sight of Claverhouse riding down the street, 
 as one to-day is caught by the fascination of 
 his portrait. But the reader has already dis- 
 covered that Graham can hardly be called a 
 hero by any of the ordinary tests except 
 beauty of personal appearance. He was not 
 an ignorant man, as certain persons have con- 
 cluded from the varied and picturesque habits 
 of his spelling, but his friends cannot claim 
 that he was endowed with rich intellectual 
 gifts. He had sense enough to condemn 
 the wilder excesses of his colleagues in the 
 government of the day, but he had not force 
 enough to replace their foolishness by a wiser 
 policy. Had his powers been more com- 
 manding, or indeed if he had had any talent 
 for constructive action, with his unwaver- 
 ing integrity and masterful determination, he 
 might have ousted Lauderdale and saved 
 Scotland for King James. But accomplished 
 intriguers and trained politicians were always 
 too much for Claverhouse, and held him as a 
 lithe wild animal is caught in the meshes of 
 a net.
 
 Wild partisans, to whom every man is 
 either white as snow or black as pitch, have 
 gone mad over Graham, making him out, 
 according to their craze, either an angel or a 
 devil, and forgetting that most men are half 
 and between. But it must be also said that 
 those who hold John Graham to have been a 
 Jacobite saint are the more delirious in their 
 minds, and hysterical in their writing, for 
 they will not hear that he ever did anything 
 less than the best, or that the men he perse- 
 cuted had any right upon their side. He is 
 from first to last a perfect paladin of romance 
 whom every one is bound to praise. Then 
 artists rush in and not only make fine trade 
 of his good looks, but lend his beauty to the 
 clansmen who fought at Killiecrankie, till 
 the curtain falls upon " Bonnie Dundee " 
 being carried to his grave by picturesque and 
 broken-hearted Highlanders dressed in the 
 costly panoply of the Inverness Gathering, 
 and with faces of the style of George Mac- 
 Donald or Lord Leighton. Whatever Clav- 
 erhouse was, and this story at least suggests 
 that he was brave and honourable, he was in 
 no sense a saint, and would have been the 
 last to claim this high degree. It is open to 
 question whether he deserved to be called a
 
 THE LAST BLOW 225 
 
 good man, for he was ambitious of power 
 and, perhaps for public ends, of wealth ; he 
 had no small measure of pride and jealousy 
 in him ; he was headstrong and unmanage- 
 able, and for his own side he was unrelenting 
 and cruel. There are things he would not 
 have done to advance his cause, as, for in- 
 stance, tell lies, or stain his honour, but he 
 never would have dreamed of showing 
 mercy to his opponent. Nor did he ever try 
 to enter into the mind of an opponent or 
 understand what the other man was feeling. 
 It is sometimes judged enough for a hero 
 that he succeed, without being clever or 
 good, but neither did Graham pass this 
 doubtful and dangerous test. For when 
 you clear away the romance which heroic 
 poetry and excited prose have flung around 
 him, you were an optimist if you did not 
 see his life was one long failure as well as 
 a disappointment and a sorrow. He did 
 bravely with the Prince of Orange, and yet 
 somehow he missed promotion ; he was the 
 best officer the government had in Scot- 
 land, and yet it was only in the last resort 
 he became commander-in-chief. He was the 
 only honest man among a gang of rascals 
 in the Scots council, and yet he was once 
 
 15
 
 226 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 dismissed from it ; he was entitled to sub- 
 stantial rewards, arid yet he had to make 
 degrading appeals to obtain his due. He 
 was loyal to foolishness, yet he was repre- 
 sented to the Court as a man who could not 
 be trusted. He had only two love affairs ; 
 the first brought him the reputation of mer- 
 cenary aims, and the second almost ruined 
 his life. He embarked on a contest which 
 was hopeless from the beginning, and died 
 at the close of a futile victory. Except win- 
 ning the heart of Jean Cochrane, he failed 
 in everything which he attempted. With 
 the exception of his wife he was betrayed 
 on every hand, while a multitude hated him 
 with all their strength and thirsted for his 
 blood. If Jean were not true to him there 
 would not be one star in the dark sky of 
 Claverhouse's life. 
 
 But this irredeemable and final disaster is 
 surely incredible. Dundee, fooled as he had 
 been both by his master and by his friends 
 till he was 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 days stood bravely by his 
 side ? Their private life had not always run 
 smoothly, for if in one way they were
 
 THE LAST BLOW 227 
 
 well mated, because both were of the eagle 
 breed, in another way they were ill-suited, 
 because they were so like. John Graham 
 and Jean Cochrane both came of proud 
 houses which loved to rule, and were not 
 accustomed to yield, they both had iron 
 and determined wills, they shared the dubious 
 gift of a lofty temper and fiery affections. 
 They were set upon their own ways, 
 and so they had clashed many a time 
 in plan and deed ; hot words had passed 
 between them, and they had been days 
 without speech. But below the tumult of 
 contending wills, and behind the flash of 
 fiery hearts, they were bound together by 
 the passion of their first love, which had 
 grown and deepened, and by that respect 
 which strong and honourable people have 
 for one another. They could rage, but 
 each knew that the other could not lie ; 
 they could be most unreasonable, but each 
 knew that the other could never descend 
 to dishonour, so their quarrels had always 
 one ending, and seemed, after they were 
 over, to draw them closer together and to 
 feed their love. No one could think of them 
 as timid and gentle creatures, billing and 
 cooing their affection ; they must rather be
 
 228 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 imagined as the lion and his lioness, 
 whose very love was fierce and perilous. 
 No power from without could separate 
 these two or make them quail. Alone 
 and united Dundee and his wife could 
 stand undismayed and self-sufficient, with 
 all Scotland against them. Nothing could 
 ever break their bond except dishonour. 
 But if one should charge the other with 
 that foulest crime, then the end had come, 
 beside which death would be welcome. 
 Where life is a comedy one writes with 
 gaiety not untouched by contempt ; where 
 life is a tragedy one writes with tears not 
 unredeemed by pride. But one shrinks when 
 the tragedy deepens into black night, and 
 is terrified when strong passions, falling 
 on an evil day, work their hot wills, with 
 no restraining or favourable fate. There 
 are people whose life is a primrose path 
 along which they dance and prattle, whose 
 emotions are a pose, whose thoughts are 
 an echo, whose trials are a graceful luxury ; 
 there are others whose way lies through 
 dark ravines and beside raging torrents, 
 over whose head the black clouds are ever 
 lowering, and whom any moment the light- 
 ning may strike. This was their destiny.
 
 THE LAST BLOW 229 
 
 Upon their 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 his last 
 hours he took it altogether to himself ; 
 but since it has to be written about, and 
 he showed so badly, let us make from the 
 first the best 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 of King James above 
 Dundee, and he left to raise the North 
 Country with a flush of hope. It soon 
 passed away and settled down into dreary 
 determination, as he made his toilsome 
 journey with a handful of followers by 
 Aboyne and Huntly, till he landed in 
 Inverness. The Gordons had sent him a 
 reinforcement, and certain of the chiefs 
 had promised their support, but the only aid 
 the Highlanders had given was of dubious 
 value and very disappointing issue. The 
 MacDonalds had hastened to Inverness 
 by way of meeting Dundee, and then had 
 seized the opportunity to plunder their old 
 enemies, the Mackintoshes, and to extract
 
 280 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 a comfortable ransom out of Inverness. 
 This was not his idea of war, and Dundee 
 scolded Keppoch, who commanded the 
 AlacDonalds, most vigorously. Keppoch 
 immediately returned homeward to his 
 fastnesses with the accumulated spoil, partly 
 because his fine, sensitive Highland nature 
 was hurt by Dundee's plain speech, and 
 partly because whatever happened it was wise 
 to secure what they had got. It is no reflec- 
 tion on Dundee's manhood that he was cast 
 down during those days at 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 had constructed 
 it for the stage, for now, after the lapse of 
 years, Mac Kay, his old rival in Holland, 
 reappears, and they resume the duel, which 
 this time is to be unto death. While 
 Dundee was struggling in Edinburgh to 
 save the throne for James, MacKay was 
 on his way with regiments of the Scots 
 Brigade to make sure of Scotland for 
 William. A few days after Dundee left 
 Edinburgh MacKay arrived, and now, as 
 Dundee rode northward in hot haste, Mac- 
 Kay was on his track. Both were eager 
 for a meeting, but the bitterness of it for
 
 THE LAST BLOW 231 
 
 Dundee was that he dared not run the risk. 
 With all his appeals and all his riding, he 
 had only a handful of mounted men, and 
 the clans had not risen. It seemed as if 
 his enterprise were futile, and that Scotland 
 would not lift a hand for King James. He 
 might be a commander-in-chief, but he was 
 a commander of nobody ; he might raise a 
 standard, but it was only a vain show. It 
 did not matter where he went or what he 
 did ; he was not a general, but a fugitive, 
 a man to be neglected, and his following 
 a handful of bandits. The rising was a 
 thing to laugh at, and the report was cur- 
 rent in the capital that he had absconded 
 with one or two servants. This pretty de- 
 scription of his campaign had not reached 
 his ears, but the humiliation of his situation 
 burned into his proud heart. Much as he 
 would have liked to meet MacKay, there 
 remained for him no alternative but flight. 
 " Flight " was the only word which could 
 describe his journey ; and as he planned his 
 course on the morrow, how he would ride to 
 Invergarry, and then return on his course, 
 and then make his way to Cluny, he started 
 to his feet and paced the room in a fury 
 of anger. What better was he than a hare
 
 232 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 with the hounds after him, running for his 
 life, and doubling in his track, fleeing here 
 and dodging there, a cowering, timid, pant- 
 ing animal of the chase ? " Damnation ! " 
 and Dundee flung himself out of the room, 
 and paced up and down the side of the river. 
 There was a dim light upon the running 
 water, and his thoughts turned to the West 
 Country, to the streams he had often crossed 
 and along whose bed he had sometimes 
 ridden, as he hunted for his Covenanting 
 prey. The Fates were just, for now the 
 Whigs were the hunters and he was the 
 hunted. He began to understand what it 
 was to be ever on the alert for the approach 
 of the enemy, to escape at the first sign of 
 danger, to cross hills in full flight, and to 
 be listening for the sound of the pursuer. 
 As yet he had not to hide, but before many 
 days were over he also may be skulking in 
 moss-hags, and concealing himself in caves, 
 and disguising himself in peasant's garments, 
 he, John Graham of Claverhouse, and 
 Viscount Dundee. The tables had turned 
 with a vengeance, and the day of the godly 
 had come. The hillmen would laugh when 
 they heard of it, and the Conventicles would 
 rejoice together. MacKay would be sitting
 
 THE LAST BLOW 233 
 
 in his quarters at Elgin that night making 
 his plans also, but not for flight, and hardly 
 for fighting. When officers arrest an out- 
 law, it is not called a battle any more than 
 when hounds run a fox to his lair. MacKay 
 would be arranging how to trap him, antici- 
 pating his ways of escape, and stopping all 
 the earths, so that, say, to-morrow, he might 
 be quietly taken. It would not be a sur- 
 render ; it would be a capture, and he would 
 be sent to Edinburgh in charge of half a 
 dozen English dragoons, and tried at Edin- 
 burgh, and condemned for treason against 
 King W illiam King William ! They would 
 execute him without mercy, and be only 
 doing to him what he had done to the 
 Whigs ; and just as he had kept guard at 
 Pollock's execution, that new Cameronian 
 Regiment, of which there was much talk, 
 would keep guard at his. There would be 
 little cause for precaution ; no one need fear 
 a rescue, for the hillmen would be there in 
 thousands with the other Whigs, to feast their 
 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 had sown that would he reap. Would 
 MacKay be laughing that night at Elgin,
 
 234 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 with his officers, and crying in his Puritanic 
 cant, " Aha, aha, how is the enemy fallen, 
 and the mighty cast down ! Where now 
 is the boasting of his pride, where now is 
 the persecutor of the saints ? " No, far worse, 
 MacKay would give orders in his cold, 
 immovable manner, and treat the matter as 
 of no account, as one who had never ex- 
 pected anything else from the beginning, 
 and was only amazed at his opponent's 
 madness. That was the inner bitterness of 
 it all ; they had taken their sides fifteen 
 years ago ; MacKay had chosen wisely, and 
 he had chosen foolishly, as the world would 
 say. The conflict had been inevitable, and 
 it was quite as inevitable that his would be 
 the losing side. William saw what was 
 coming afar off, so did MacKay ; and it had 
 all come to pass, year by year, act by act, 
 and now MacKay was to give the last 
 stroke. They had won, and they had been 
 sure all the time 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 done otherwise if he had 
 had the choice over again. But their fore- 
 sight, and their patience, and their capacity, 
 and their thoroughness, and the madness of
 
 THE LAST BLOW 235 
 
 his own people, and their feebleness, and their 
 cowardice, and their helplessness, infuriated 
 him. " Curse MacKay and his master, and 
 the whole crew of cold-blooded Whigs ! 
 But it is I and mine which are cursed." 
 
 " Amen to the malediction on the Usurper 
 and all his servants ; it's weel deserved, and 
 may it sune be fulfilled, full measure and 
 rinnin' over, but for ony sake dinna curse 
 yersel', my lord, for it's blessings ye've earned 
 as a faithful servant o' your King." And 
 Dundee turned round to find his faithful 
 servant had arrived from home and had 
 sought him out on the riverside. 
 
 " You took me by surprise, Jock, and 
 startled me, for I knew not that any man 
 was near. I thought that you of all men 
 were at Dudhope, where I left you to pro- 
 tect Lady Dundee and the young lord. Is 
 aught wrong?" cried Dundee anxiously; "my 
 wife and child, they are both well ? Speak 
 quickly." For even then Dundee saw that 
 Grimond was hesitating, and looked like a 
 man who had to speak carefully. "Do not 
 tell me that MacKay has ordered the castle 
 to be seized, and that the dragoons have in- 
 sulted my family ; this were an outrage on 
 the laws of war. If they have done this
 
 236 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 thing I will avenge it before many days 
 pass. Is that the news ye bring ? " And 
 Dundee gripped his servant's shoulder and 
 shook him with such violence that Grimond, 
 a strongly built fellow, was almost thrown 
 from his feet. 
 
 " Be quiet, Maister John, for I canna help 
 callin' ye that, and dinna work 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, has been near 
 it since ye left ; whatever other mischief he 
 may do, Colonel Livingstone, him that 
 commands the cavalry, ye ken, at Dundee, 
 will no see ony harm come to my Lady 
 Dundee. Have no fear on that concern, 
 my lord." 
 
 " You havena come for nought, Grimond, 
 and I'm not expecting that ye have 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 his mouth except when he wants his 
 food. God be thankit there's nothing wrong
 
 THE LAST BLOW 237 
 
 wi' him, and it does my heart good to see 
 that he is a rael Graham, a branch o' the 
 auld tree ; long may it stand in Scotland, 
 and wide may its branches spread. If it 
 be the will of Providence I would like to 
 live till my auld een saw Lord Graham of 
 Claverhouse, for that I'm supposing is his 
 title, riding on the right hand of the Vis- 
 count Dundee. And I would be a' the 
 better pleased if it was over the necks 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 or anything be- 
 fallen her. It was hard, Jock, for a man 
 to leave his wife but a few weeks after his 
 son was born. Yet she recovered quickly 
 as becometh a strong and healthy woman, 
 and when 1 left her she was in good heart 
 and was content that I should go. There 
 is nothing wrong with Lady Dundee, 
 Jock ? " 
 
 " Ye may set yir mind at rest aboot her 
 ladyship, Maister John. She's stronger than 
 I've ever seen her, and I can say no more 
 than that, nor have I ever marked her 
 more active, baith by nicht and day ; 
 and in spite o' her lord being so far awa'
 
 238 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 and in sic peril, ye would never think 
 she had an anxious thought. It's amazin' 
 an' . . . very encouragin' to see her lady- 
 ship sae content an' . . . occupied. Ye 
 need have nae concern aboot her bodily 
 condeetion, an' of course that's a great 
 maitter." 
 
 Dundee was so relieved to hear that his 
 wife and child were well, and that Dudhope 
 was safe, that he did not for the moment 
 catch the dubious tone of Grimond's refer- 
 ences to Lady Dundee, and indeed it 
 struck no unaccustomed note. Grimond 
 had all the virtues of a family retainer 
 utter forgetfulness of self, and absolute 
 devotion to his master's house, as well as 
 a passionate, doglike affection for Dundee. 
 But he had the defects of his qualities. 
 It seems the inevitable disability of this 
 faithfulness, that this kind of servant is 
 jealous of any newcomer into the family, 
 suspicious of the stranger's ways, over- 
 sensitive to the family interests, and ready 
 at any moment to fight for the family's 
 cause. Grimond had done his best to 
 prevent his master's marriage with Jean 
 Cochrane, and had never concealed his con- 
 viction that it was an act of madness ; he
 
 THE LAST BLOW 239 
 
 had never been more than decently civil 
 to his mistress, and there never had been 
 any love lost between them. If she had 
 been a smaller woman, Jean would have 
 had him dismissed 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. Jean 
 had made no effort to conciliate Grimond, 
 for he was not the kind of watchdog to 
 be won from his allegiance by a tempting 
 morsel. She laughed with her husband 
 over his watchfulness, and often said, " Ye 
 may trust me anywhere, John, if ye leave 
 Grimond in charge. If I wanted 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 
 to play a prank, for his bite is as quick as 
 his bark." They laughed together over this 
 jest, for they trusted each other utterly, 
 as they had good reason to do, but the day 
 was at hand when that laughter was to 
 be bitter in the mouth. 
 
 "Ye are like a cross-grained tyke which 
 snarls at its master's best friend through 
 faithfulness to him. Ye never liked your
 
 240 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 mistress from the beginning, because ye 
 thought she would not be loyal, but, man, 
 ye know better now," said Dundee kindly, 
 " and it's time ye were giving her a share 
 o' the love ye've always given me." 
 
 " Never ! " cried Grimond hotly. " And 
 I canna bear that ye should treat this 
 maitter as a jest. Many a faithful dog has 
 been scolded aye, and maybe struck, by 
 his maister when he had quicker ears than 
 the foolish man, and was giving warning 
 of danger. 
 
 " Ye think me, my lord, a silly and 
 cankered auld haveril, and that my head 
 is full of prejudices and fancies. Would to 
 God that I were wrong. If I w r ere, I would 
 go down on my knees to her ladyship 
 and ask her pardon and serve her like a 
 dog all the days of my life ; but, wae's me, 
 I'm ower richt. When my lady is loyal to 
 you I'll be loyal to her, but no an hour 
 sooner, say as ye like, laugh ye as ye will. 
 But my lady is false, and ye are deceived in 
 your own home." 
 
 " Do you know what you are saying, 
 Grimond, and to whom you are speaking ? 
 We have carried this jest too far, and it 
 is my blame, but ye may not again speak
 
 THE LAST BLOW 241 
 
 this way of your mistress in my presence. I 
 know you mean nothing by it, and it is all 
 your love of me and dislike of 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 Dundee sternly. 
 
 " It's nae madness, my lord," answered 
 Grimond doggedly, " and has naethin' to do 
 with my lady being a Cochrane. Maybe I 
 would rather she 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 complain o' his mistress. I 
 ken when to speak and when to hold my 
 tongue, but there are things I canna see 
 and forbear. My lord, it's time you were 
 at Dudhope, for the sake o' your honour." 
 
 " Grimond," said Dundee, and his words 
 were as morsels of ice, "if it were any other 
 man who spoke of my wife and dishonour 
 in the same breath I would kill him where 
 he stood ; but ye are the oldest and faith- 
 fullest follower of our house. For the work 
 ye have done and the risks ye have run 
 I pardon you so far as to hear any excuse 
 ye have to make for yourself; but make 
 
 16
 
 it plain and make it quick, for ye know I 
 am not a man to be trifled with." 
 
 " I will speak plainly, my lord, though 
 they be the hardest words I have ever had 
 to say. I ken the risk. It is not the first 
 time I have taken my life in my hand for 
 the Grahams and their good name. My 
 suspicions were aroused by that little besom 
 Kirsty, when I saw her ane day comin' oot 
 from the quarters of Colonel Livingstone, 
 wha commands the dragoons at Dundee. I 
 kent she could be doing nae good there, 
 for she's as full o' mischief as an egg is full 
 o' meat. So I wheeped up the near road 
 and met her coming up to the castle. 
 When she saw me she hid a letter in her 
 breast, and, question her as I like, I could 
 get nothing from her but impudence. But 
 it was plain to me that communication was 
 passing between some one in Dudhope and 
 the commander o' William's soldiers." 
 
 " Go on," said Dundee quietly. 
 
 " Putting two and two together, my lord, 
 I watched in the orchard below the 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 
 waited below the apple trees, near where
 
 THE LAST BLOW 243 
 
 I was lying in the hollow among the grass. 
 After a while a woman in a plaid so that 
 ye couldna see her face came down from 
 the direction of the castle. They drew 
 away among the trees, so that I could only 
 see that they were there, but couldna hear 
 what they were saying. After a while, 
 colloguing together, they parted, and I 
 jaloused who the two were, but that nicht 
 I could not be certain." 
 
 " Go on," said Dundee, " till you have 
 finished." 
 
 " Three nichts later they met again, and 
 I crept a little nearer, and the moon coming 
 out for a minute I saw their faces. It was 
 her ladyship and Colonel Livingstone. She 
 was pleading wi' him, and he was half 
 yielding, half consenting. Her voice was 
 so low I couldna catch her words, but I 
 heard him say : * God knows ye have my 
 heart ; but my honour, my honour.' ' 1 will 
 be content wi' your heart,' I heard her 
 answer. ' When will you be ready ? For 
 if Dundee hear of it, he will ride south 
 night and day, tho' the whole English army 
 be in his road ! ' 
 
 " ' For eight days,' said Livingstone, ' I 
 am engaged on duty and can do nothing,
 
 on the ninth I am at your service for ever.' 
 Then I saw him kiss her hand, and they 
 parted. Within an hour I was riding north. 
 You may shoot me if you please, but I have 
 cleared my conscience." 
 
 Dundee's face was white as death, and 
 his eyes glittered as when the light shines 
 on steel. Twice he laid his hand upon his 
 pistol, and twice withdrew it. 
 
 "If an angel from heaven told me that 
 Lady Dundee was untrue I would not 
 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 go south for other ends, and 
 now I shall not fail to be there before that 
 appointment. But it may be, Grimond, 
 I shall have to kill you."
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 
 
 DUNDEE was a man of many trials, and one 
 on whom fortune seldom smiled ; but the 
 most cruel days of his life were the ride 
 from Inverness by the Pass of Corryarrack 
 to Blair Athole, and from Blair Athole by 
 Perth to Dundee. He learned then, as 
 many men have done in times of their 
 distress, the horror of the night time and 
 the blessing of the light. Had his mind 
 not been affected by the universal treachery 
 of the time, and the disappointments he 
 had met on every side, till it seemed that 
 every man except himself was hunting after 
 his own interest, and no one, high or low, 
 could be trusted, he had from the beginning 
 treated Grimond's story with contempt and 
 made it a subject of jest. He would no 
 more have doubted Jean's honour than that 
 of his mother. He would have known that 
 
 245
 
 Grimond never lied, and that he did not 
 often drink, but he also would have been 
 sure that even if it was Jean who met 
 Livingstone, that there was some good ex- 
 planation, and he never would have allowed 
 his thoughts to dwell upon the matter. If 
 Jean had been told that Graham had been 
 seen with a lady of the Court at Whitehall, 
 she would have scorned to question him, 
 and indeed she had often laughed at the 
 snares certain frail beauties of that day had 
 laid for him in London. For she knew 
 him, and he also knew her. But he was 
 sorely tried in spirit and driven half crazy 
 by the disloyalty of his friends, and it is 
 in those circumstances of morbid, unhealthy 
 feeling that the seeds of suspicion find a 
 root and grow, as the microbes settle upon 
 susceptible and disordered organs of the 
 body. 
 
 As it was, he was divided in his mind, 
 and it was the alternation of dark and bright 
 moods which made his agony. Spring 
 had only reached the Highlands as he rode 
 southwards, but its first touches had made 
 everything winsome and beautiful. While 
 patches of snow lingered on the higher hills, 
 and glittered in the sunlight, the grass in the
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 247 
 
 hollows between the heather was putting 
 on the first greenness of the season, and the 
 heather was sprouting bravely ; the burns 
 were full-bodied with the melting snow from 
 the higher levels and rushing with a pleasant 
 noise to join the river. As he came down 
 from the bare uplands at Dalnaspidal into 
 the sheltered glen at Blair Castle, the trees 
 made an arch of the most delicate emerald 
 over his head, for the buds were beginning 
 to open, and the wind blew gently upon his 
 face. The sight of habitations as he came 
 nearer to the Lowlands, the sound of the 
 horses' feet upon the road, the gaiety of his 
 band of troopers, the children playing before 
 their humble cottages, the exhilarating air, 
 and the hope of the season when winter was 
 gone, told upon his heart and reinforced 
 him. The despair of the night before, when 
 he tossed to and fro upon a wretched bed or 
 paced up and down before the farmhouse 
 door, imagining everything that was horrible, 
 passed away as a nightmare. Was there 
 ever such madness as that he, John Graham, 
 should be doubting his wife, Jean Cochrane, 
 whom he had won from the midst of his 
 enemies, and who had left her mother and 
 her mother's house to be his bride ? How
 
 brave she had been, how self-sacrificing, how 
 uncomplaining, how proud in heart and high 
 in spirit ; she had given up the whole world 
 for him ; she was the bravest and purest 
 of ladies. That his wife of those years of 
 storm and the mother a few weeks ago of his 
 child should forget her vows and her love, 
 and condescend to a base intrigue ; that she 
 should meet a lover in the orchard where 
 they often used to walk, where the blossom 
 would now be opening on the trees, that 
 Livingstone, whom he knew and counted 
 in a sense a friend, though he held King 
 William's commission now, and had not 
 stood by the right side, should take the 
 opportunity by his absence to seduce his 
 wife 1 It was a hideous and incredible idea, 
 some mad mistake which could be easily 
 explained. Dundee, throwing off his black 
 and brooding burden of thought, would 
 touch his horse with the spur and gallop for 
 a mile in gaiety of heart and then ride 
 on his way, singing some Cavalier song, 
 till Grimond, who kept away from his 
 master those days and rode among the 
 troopers, would shake his head, and say 
 to himself, " God grant he be not fey." 
 Dundee would continue in high spirits till
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 249 
 
 the evening shadows began to fall, and then 
 the other shadow would lengthen across his 
 soul. The night before he met his wife he 
 spent in Glamis Castle, and the grim, austere 
 beauty of that ancient house affected his 
 imagination. Up its winding stairs with 
 their bare, stern walls men had gone in their 
 armour, through the thickness of the outer 
 walls secret stairs connected mysterious 
 chambers one with another. Strange deeds 
 had been done in those low-roofed rooms 
 with their dark carved furniture, and there 
 were secret places in the castle where ghosts 
 of the past had their habitation. Weird 
 figures were said to flit through the castle 
 at night, restless spirits which revisited the 
 scene of former tragedies and crimes, and 
 the room in which Graham slept was 
 known to be haunted. Alas 1 he needed no 
 troubled ancestor of the Strathmore house to 
 visit him, for his own thoughts were sufficient 
 torment, and through the brief summer 
 night and then through the dawning light 
 of the morning he threshed the question 
 which gnawed his heart. Evil suggestions 
 and suspicious remembrances of the past, 
 which would have fled before the sunlight, 
 surrounded him and looked out at him from
 
 the shadow with gibbering faces. Had he 
 not been told that Jean laid traps for him in 
 Paisley that she might secure the safety of 
 her lover Pollock, and also of her kinsman, 
 Sir John Cochrane ? Had she not often 
 spoken warmly of that Covenanting minis- 
 ter and expressed her bitter regret that her 
 husband had compassed Pollock's death ? 
 She had tried to keep him from attending 
 the Convention, and of late days had often 
 suggested that he had better be at peace and 
 not stir up the country. After all, can you 
 take out of the life what is bred in the 
 bone ? and Jean Cochrane was of a Cove- 
 nanting stock, and her mother a very harridan 
 of bigotry. Might there not have been some 
 sense in the fear of his friends that he would 
 no longer be loyal to the good cause, and 
 was Jock Grimond's grudge against his 
 marriage mere stupidity and jealousy ? 
 Every one was securing his safety and ad- 
 justing himself to the new regime ; there 
 was hardly a Lowland gentleman who had 
 irretrievably pledged himself to King James, 
 and as for the chiefs, they would fight for 
 their own hand as they had always done, 
 and could only be counted on for one thing, 
 and that was securing plunder. Was not
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 251 
 
 he alone, and would not he soon be either 
 on the scaffold or an exile ? The Whigs 
 would soon be reigning in their glory over 
 Scotland, and it would be well with every 
 one that had their password. If he were out 
 of the way, would there not be a strong 
 temptation for her to make terms with 
 her family and buy security by loyalty to 
 their side ? No doubt she was a strong 
 woman, but, after all, she was only a 
 woman, and was she able to stand alone and 
 live forsaken at Glenogilvie, with friends 
 neither among Cavaliers nor Covenanters ? 
 Could he blame her if she separated herself 
 from a ruined cause and a discredited hus- 
 band, for would she not be only doing what 
 soldiers and courtiers had done, what every- 
 body except himself was doing ? Why 
 should she, a young woman with life before 
 her, tie herself up with a hopeless cause, 
 and one who might be called commander- 
 in-chief of James's army, but who had 
 nothing to show for it but a handful of reck- 
 less 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, and he recalled
 
 252 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 that Lord Dundonald was an adroit schemer 
 to buy the future for herself and her child 
 by selling him and returning to her old 
 allegiance ? There was enough reality in 
 this ghost to give it, as it were, a bodily 
 shape, and Graham, who had been flinging 
 himself about, 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 the Covenanters he had murdered had 
 come from the other world and were having 
 their day of vengeance. It must have been 
 Jean who met Livingstone in the orchard, 
 and it must have been an assignation. There 
 was no woman in Dudhope had her height 
 and carriage, and the vision of her proud 
 face that he had loved so well brought scald- 
 ing tears to his eyes. For what purpose had 
 she met Livingstone, if not to arrange some 
 base surrender, if not to give information 
 about him 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 known her for years ; 
 it had been evident that he admired her ;
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 253 
 
 he was an attractive 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 been making his suit to 
 Lady Dundee. Her husband was away, 
 likely never to return ; she was a young and 
 handsome woman, and Livingstone had time 
 upon his hands at Dundee. A month ago 
 he had sworn that the virtue of his wife was 
 unassailable as that of the Blessed Virgin ; 
 he would have sworn it two days ago as he 
 rode through Killiecrankie ; but now, with 
 the brooding darkness round him and its 
 awful shapes peopling the room, he was not 
 sure of anything that was good and true. 
 Had he not lived at Court, had he not known 
 the great ladies, had not they tried to seduce 
 him, and flung themselves at his head ? 
 Was not Jean a woman like the rest, and 
 why should his wife be faithful when every 
 other woman of rank was an adulteress ? 
 This, then, was the end of it all, and he had 
 suffered the last stroke of treachery, and 
 the last stain of dishonour. How he had 
 been befooled and bewitched ! What an 
 actress she had been, with a manner that 
 would have deceived the wisest ! What a 
 stupid, blundering fool he had been 1 There
 
 254 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 are times, the black straits of life, when a 
 man must either pray or curse. If he be 
 a saint he will pray, but Dundee was not a 
 saint, so he rose from his bed, and sweeping 
 away the evil shapes from before him with 
 his right arm, and then with his left, as one 
 makes his road through highstanding corn 
 that closes in behind him, he raged from 
 side to side of the room in which the day 
 was faintly breaking, while unaccustomed 
 oaths poured from his mouth. One thing 
 only remained for him, and at the thought 
 peace began to come. He had planned 
 weeks ago to visit Dundee again and give 
 the chance to Livingstone's dragoons to 
 join him, for he had reason to believe that 
 they were not unalterably loyal. He was 
 on his way to Dundee now, and to-morrow 
 he would be there, but he cared little what 
 the dragoons would do ; he had other folk 
 to deal with. If he found he 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 the 
 vengeance of the Grahams. " Both of 
 them both of them to hell, and then my 
 work is done and I shall go to see them 1 " 
 It was characteristic of the man that,
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 255 
 
 though he had no assistance from Grimond 
 in the morning for Jock dared not go near 
 him Dundee appeared in perfect order, 
 even more carefully dressed than usual ; but 
 as he rode from the door of Glamis Castle 
 through the beautiful domain of park and 
 wood, Grimond was aghast at his pinched 
 and drawn face and the gleam in his eye. 
 " May the Lord hae mercy, but I doot 
 sairly that he is aff his head, and that there 
 will be wild work at Dudhope." And while 
 Grimond had all the imperturbable self- 
 satisfaction and unshaken dourness of the 
 Lowland Scot, and never on any occasion 
 acknowledged that he could be wrong or 
 changed his way, he almost wished that 
 he had left this affair alone and had not 
 meddled between his master and his mas- 
 ter's wife. It was again a fair and sunny day, 
 when the freshness of spring was feeling the 
 first touch of summer, as Dundee and his 
 men rode up the pass through the hills from 
 Strathmore to Dundee. There were times 
 when Graham would have breathed his horse 
 at the highest point, from which you are able 
 to look down upon the sea, and drunk in the 
 pure, invigorating air, and gazed at the dis- 
 tant stretches of the ocean. But he had no
 
 256 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 time to lose that day ; he had work to do 
 without delay. With all his delirium and 
 Graham's brain was hot, and every nerve ting- 
 ling he retained the instincts of a soldier, 
 and just because he was so suspicious of his 
 reception he took the more elaborate precau- 
 tions. Before he entered the pass his scouts 
 made sure that he would not be ambuscaded, 
 for it might be that his approach was known, 
 and that Livingstone, taking him at a dis- 
 advantage in the narrow way, by one happy 
 stroke would complete his triumph. As 
 he came near Dundee, he sent out a party 
 to reconnoitre, while he remained with his 
 troop to watch events. When the sound of 
 firing was heard he knew that the garrison 
 was on the alert, and that the town could 
 only be taken by assault. The soldiers came 
 galloping back with several wounded men, 
 having left one dead. Livingstone was for 
 the moment safe in his fastness, and it was 
 evident that the dragoons were not in a 
 mind to desert their colours. By this time 
 it would be known at Dudhope that he was 
 near, and the sooner he arrived the more 
 chance of finding his wife. It was possible 
 that Livingstone had garrisoned Dudhope, 
 and that if he rode forward alone he might
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 257 
 
 be snared. But this risk he would take 
 in the heat of his mind, and summoning 
 Grimond with a stern gesture to his side, 
 and ordering the soldiers to follow at a 
 slight interval and to surround the castle, 
 he galloped forward to the door. The place 
 appeared to be deserted, but at last, in 
 answer to his knocking, as he beat on the 
 door with the hilt of his sword, it was 
 opened by an old woman who seemed the 
 only servant left, and who was driven speech- 
 less by her master's unexpected appearance 
 and his wild expression. For, although John 
 Graham had been a stern as well as just 
 and kind master, and although he had 
 often been angry, and was never to be trifled 
 with, no one had ever seen him before other 
 than cool and calm, smooth-spoken and 
 master of himself. 
 
 " What means it, Janet, or whatever be 
 your name, that the door was barred and I 
 kept standing outside my own house ? What 
 w r ere ye doing, and who is within the walls ? 
 Speak out, and quickly, or I will make you 
 do it at your pain. Have the dragoons been 
 here, and are there any hid in this place ? 
 Is my Lady Dundee in the castle, and if so, 
 where is she ? " And then, when the panic- 
 
 17
 
 258 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 stricken woman could not find intelligible 
 words before the unwonted fury of her 
 master, he pushed her aside and, rushing 
 up the stair, tore open the door of the 
 familiar room where Jean and he usually 
 sat to find that she was not there nor any- 
 where else in the castle, that his wife 
 and the child were gone. With this con- 
 firmation of his worst fears, his fever left 
 him suddenly, and he came to himself, so 
 far as the action of his mind and the passion 
 of his manner were concerned. Sending for 
 Janet, he expressed his regret, with more 
 than his usual courtesy, that he had spoken 
 roughly to her and for the moment had 
 frightened her. Something, he said, had 
 vexed him, but now she must not be afraid, 
 but must tell him some things that he 
 wished to know. Had everything been 
 going well at Dudhope since he left, and 
 had her ladyship and my little lord been 
 in good health ? That was excellent. He 
 hoped that the dragoons had not been 
 troublesome or come about the castle ? They 
 had not ? Well, that was satisfactory. 
 Their commander, Colonel Livingstone, 
 perhaps had called to pay his respects to 
 Lady Dundee, and render any kindness he
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 259 
 
 could ? No, never been seen at the castle ? 
 That was strange. Her ladyship where 
 had she gone, for she did not appear to be 
 in the castle, nor her maid nor the other 
 servants ? Where were they all ? Had her 
 ladyship taken refuge in Dundee for safety 
 in those troubled times ? And as his master 
 asked this question with studied calmness 
 and the gentlest of accents, Grimond shud- 
 dered, for this was the heart of the matter, 
 and there was murder in the answer. Not 
 to Dundee where then ? To Glenogilvie, 
 only last night hi great haste, as if afraid 
 of some one or something happening. Of 
 whom, of what ? But Janet did not know, 
 and could only say that Lady Dundee and 
 the household had formed a sudden plan 
 and departed at nightfall for the old home 
 of the Grahams. Whereat Dundee smiled, 
 and, crossing to a window and looking down 
 upon the town, said to himself: "A cun- 
 ning trap. I was to be taken at Dundee, 
 when in my hot haste, and thinking 1 had an 
 easy capture, I rushed the town without 
 precautions, as I might have done. While 
 in quiet Glenogilvie my lady waited for his 
 triumphant coming, victor and lover. It 
 was a saving mercy, as her people would say,
 
 260 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 that our scouts drew their fire and brought 
 out the situation. They might have baited the 
 trap at Dudhope had they been cleverer, 
 and I been taken in my home with her 
 by my side but that would have been 
 dangerous. Now it is left for me to see 
 whether the town could be rushed, and I 
 have the last joy of one good stroke at 
 Colonel 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, searching for some 
 weak spot where he could make a successful 
 entrance with his troopers. Before evening 
 he was driven to the conclusion that an as- 
 sault could only mean defeat and likely his 
 own death, and he wished to live at least for 
 another day. So when the sun was setting he 
 rode away 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 which he had ruled the town, and 
 where he had spent many glad days with 
 Jean. The shadows of evening were now 
 gathering, and when he reached the home of 
 his boyhood in secluded Glenogilvie the night 
 had fallen. It was contrary to his pride to
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 261 
 
 practise any tactics in his own country, and 
 they rode boldly to the door from which he 
 had gone out and in so often in earlier, hap- 
 pier days. They had been keeping watch, 
 he noticed, for lights shifted in the rooms as 
 they came near, and almost as soon as he had 
 crossed the threshold his wife came out from 
 her room to greet him. He marked in that 
 instant that, though she was startled to see 
 him, and had not looked for him so soon, 
 she showed no sign of confusion or of guilt. 
 Against his will he admired the courage of 
 her carriage and her dignity in what he 
 judged a critical hour of her life. It was not 
 their way to rush into one another's arms, 
 though there burned in them the hottest and 
 fiercest passion of love. In presence of others 
 they never gave themselves away, but carried 
 themselves with a stately grace. " We heard 
 you were on your way, my lord," she simply 
 said, " but I did not expect so quick a meet- 
 ing. Have ye come from the north or from 
 Perth ? A messenger went to Lord Perth's 
 house with news of the happenings at Dun- 
 dee, but doubtless he missed you." She gave 
 him her hand, over which he bent, and which 
 he seemed to kiss, but did not. " We left 
 Perth two days ago," he replied, with a cold,
 
 clear voice, which did not quite hide the 
 underlying emotion, " and we have this day 
 paid our visit to Dundee to get a chill 
 welcome and find Dudhope empty. It was 
 a pity that we missed the messenger, Lady 
 Dundee, who doubtless sought for us dili- 
 gently, for if we had known where you w r ere 
 when we left Glamis this morning, it had 
 been easy aye, and in keeping with my 
 mind to turn aside and visit Glenogilvie." 
 They were still standing in the hall, and 
 Jean had begun to realise that Dundee \vas 
 changed, and that behind this cold courtesy 
 some fire was burning. When they were 
 alone she would, in other circumstances, have 
 cast herself, in the proud surrender of a 
 strong woman's love, into his arms, and he 
 would have kissed her hair, her forehead, her 
 eyes, her cheeks, her chin, and, last, her 
 mouth ; but at the sight of his dyes she stood 
 apart, and straightening herself, Jean said : 
 " What is the meaning of this look, John, 
 and what ails you ? Ye seem as if ye had 
 suffered some cruel blow. Has aught gone 
 wrong with you ? Ye have come back in hot 
 haste." 
 
 " Yes, my Lady Dundee, something wrong 
 with me, and maybe worse with you. I have
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 263 
 
 come quicker than I intended, and have had 
 a somewhat cold reception at Dundee; but I 
 grant you that was not your blame you had 
 doubtless prepared a warmer. Livingstone 
 was the laggard." 
 
 " You are angry, John, and I now under- 
 stand the cause. It was not my blame, for 
 what woman could do I did, and maybe 
 more than becometh your wife, to win him 
 over. He almost consented, and I declare to 
 you that Livingstone is with us. I could have 
 sworn two days ago that the regiment would 
 have joined us and been waiting for you. 
 But that determined Whig, Captain Balfour, 
 discovered the plot, and I had a message yes- 
 terday afternoon that it was hopeless. So for 
 fear of arrest 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 me ever by my title and not 
 by my name, after our parting for so long 
 and dangerous a time ? " 
 
 " You are right, Jean Cochrane, and I will 
 do you this justice, ye could not do more 
 than meet him in the orchard and in the dark 
 of the night. Yes, ye were both seen, and 
 word was brought me to the north by a faith- 
 ful messenger I judge the only true heart
 
 264 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 left. That was fine doing and fine pleading, 
 when he confessed that you had won his 
 heart, but his honour was hindering him. Ye 
 cannot deny the words, they are graven on 
 my heart like fire, and are burning it to the 
 core. You, my wife, and whom I made my 
 Lady Dundee, as if you had been a lowborn 
 country lass." 
 
 " You are unjust, my lord, shamefully and 
 cruelly unjust. It was not a pleasant thing 
 for me to do, and I hated myself in the stoop- 
 ing to do it, but there was no other way for 
 it, since he dared not come in the daylight, 
 and I dared not go to him. Now I wish to 
 God I had never troubled myself and never 
 lifted my little finger to accomplish this thing 
 for the cause, since spies have been going and 
 coming between Dudhope and the north. 
 What I did, I did for you and King James, 
 and if I had succeeded ye would have praised 
 me and said that a woman's wiles had won a 
 regiment of horse. But because I have failed 
 ye fling my poor effort in my face, and make 
 me angry with myself that I ever tried to 
 serve you you who stand here reproaching 
 me for my condescension." 
 
 " Well acted, my lady, and a very cunning 
 tale. So it was to serve me ye crept out at
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 265 
 
 night disguised, and it was to win his heart 
 for King James that ye spoke so tenderly ? 
 I never expected the day would come when 
 John Graham of Claverhouse would call 
 down blessings aye, the richest benediction 
 of heaven upon a Covenanter, but I pray 
 God to bless Captain Balfour with all things 
 that he desires in this world and in that which 
 is to come. Because, though he knew not 
 what he was doing, and might have served 
 his own cause better by letting things run 
 their course, he saved, at least in the eyes 
 of the world, my honour, and averted the 
 public shame of a treacherous wanton." 
 
 As the words fell slowly and quietly from 
 his lips, like drops of vitriol, Jean's face re- 
 flected the rapid succession of emotions in 
 her heart. She was startled as one not grasp- 
 ing the meaning of his words : she was hor- 
 rified as their shameful charge emerged : she 
 was stricken to the heart as the man she 
 had loved from out of all the world called her 
 by the vilest of all names a woman can hear. 
 Then, being no gentle and timid young wife 
 who could be crushed by a savage and unex- 
 pected blow and find her relief in a flood of 
 tears, but a proud and determined woman 
 with the blood of two ancient houses in her
 
 266 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 veins, after the briefest pause she struck back 
 at Dundee, carrying herself at her full height, 
 throwing back her head with an attitude of 
 scorn, her face pale because intense feeling 
 had called the blood back to the heart, and 
 her eyes blazing with fury, as when the 
 forked lightning bursts from the cloud and 
 shatters a house or strikes a living person 
 dead. And it was like her that she spoke 
 almost as quietly as Graham, neither shrink- 
 ing nor trembling. 
 
 " This, then, is the cause of your strange 
 carriage, Lord Dundee, which I noted on 
 your coming, and tried to explain in a simple 
 and honourable way, for I had no key to your 
 mind, and have not known you for what you 
 are till this night. So that was the base thing 
 you have been imagining in your heart, as 
 you rode through the North Country, and 
 that was the spur that drove you home with 
 such haste to guard your honour as a hus- 
 band, and to put to shame an adulterous 
 wife ? Pardon me if I was slow in catching 
 your meaning, the charge has taken me 
 somewhat by surprise." And already, be- 
 fore her face, Dundee began to weaken and 
 to shrink for the first time in his life. 
 
 " And you are the man whom I, Jean Coch-
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 267 
 
 rane, have loved alone of all men in the world, 
 and for whose love I forsook my mother and 
 my house, and became a stranger in the land 1 
 You are the husband whom I trusted utterly, 
 for whom 1 was willing to make the last sac- 
 rifice of life, of whom I boasted in my heart, 
 in whom I placed all my joy ! I knew you 
 were a bigot for your cause ; I knew you were 
 cruel in the doing of your work ; I knew you 
 had a merciless ambition ; I knew you had 
 an unmanageable pride ; I have not lain in 
 your arms nor lived by your side, I have not 
 heard you speak nor seen you act, without 
 understanding how obstinate is the temper 
 of your mind, and how fiery is your heart. 
 For those faults I did not love you less, and 
 of them I did not complain, for they were 
 my own also. That you were incapable of 
 trusting, that you could suspect your wife 
 of dishonour, that you would be moved by 
 the report of a spy, a baseborn peasant man, 
 that you could offer the last gross, unpardon- 
 able insult to a virtuous woman, is what I 
 never could have even imagined. The Cove- 
 nanters called you by many evil names, and 
 I did not believe them. I believe every one 
 of them now they did not tell half the truth. 
 They called you persecutor and murderer,
 
 268 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 they forgot to call you what I now do. As 
 when one strikes a cur with a whip, so to your 
 fair, false face I call you liar and coward. 
 Peace till I be done, 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 you where you stand. God in 
 heaven, what an accusation ! A wife of five 
 years, and a mother of only a few weeks, that 
 she should sin with an honourable man who 
 is her friend and her husband's friend ! Did 
 Livingstone say, according to that dastard 
 hiding in the wood, that his heart was with 
 us ? That was with our cause, and not with 
 me. Did he say honour hindered him ? That 
 was not honour towards you, it was honour 
 towards his colours. But honour is a strange 
 word in your ears now, my lord. I have 
 never thought of Livingstone more than any 
 other man who has a good name and has never 
 betrayed a trust. This night my heart is 
 favourable to him, for I saw him in an agony 
 about his honour, and I judge if he were 
 a woman's husband, and she was such a 
 woman as I am before God this day, he 
 would rather die than insult her." 
 
 " Ye wished for some weapon wherewith 
 to take a coward's life. Here is my sword,
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 269 
 
 Jean, and here is my heart. I would not be 
 sorry to die, and I would rather take the 
 last stroke from you than from my enemies. 
 It is not worth while to live, for I have no 
 friend, and soon shall have no possessions. 
 My cause is forlorn, and my name is a by- 
 word, and now, by my own doing, I have 
 lost my only love. Strike just here, and my 
 blood will be an atonement to thee for my 
 sin, and generations unborn will 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 dying down. " Then I will use 
 that moment, not to ask your pardon, for I 
 judge you are not a woman to forgive and 
 neither should I be in your place but to 
 explain. I shall not speak of my love for 
 you, for that now ye will not believe, nor 
 of my shame in having received those evil 
 thoughts for a moment into my heart. I 
 have never known the bitterness of shame 
 before, but I would fain tell how it happened, 
 that the remembrance of me be less black 
 after we have parted forever. Had I been 
 in my natural state it had been impossible 
 for me to doubt thee, Jean, and if I had
 
 270 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 seen thee sin before mine eyes, I would have 
 thought it was another. But my mind has 
 been distraught through weariness of the 
 body on the long rides, and nights without 
 sleep as I lay a-planning, and the desertion 
 of friends in whom I trusted, and the refusals 
 of men of whom I expected loyalty, and the 
 humiliating helplessness before William's 
 general, my old rival Mac Kay. I was 
 almost mad. In the night-time, I think, I 
 was mad altogether. But I had always one 
 comfort, like a single star shining in a dark 
 sky, and that was the faithfulness of my 
 wife. When a cloud obscured that solitary 
 light then a frenzy passed into my blood. 
 I ceased to reason, and according to the 
 measure of my love was my foolish, ground- 
 less hate." 
 
 " Take back your sword, Dundee, for I 
 am not now minded to use it. Five minutes 
 ago it had been dangerous to give it me. 
 If ye fall, it shall be by another hand than 
 your wife's, and in another place than 
 your home. We have said words to one 
 another this night which neither of us will 
 lightly pardon, for we are not of the pardon- 
 ing kind. I do not feel as I did : my anger 
 has turned into sorrow ; the idol of my
 
 THOU ALSO FALSE 271 
 
 idolatry is broken my fair model of chivalry 
 and now I can only gather together the 
 pieces. Even while I hated you I was 
 loving you this is the contradiction of a 
 woman's heart and I knew that love of me 
 had made you mad. Whatever happens, I 
 will always remember that you loved me, 
 but my dream has vanished forever." 
 
 They spent next day walking quietly in 
 the glen, and the following morning he left 
 for his last campaign. They said farewell 
 alone, but after he was in the saddle Lady 
 Dundee lifted up the child for him to kiss 
 which was to die before the year was out. 
 He turned as they were riding down the road 
 and waved his plumed hat to his wife, where 
 she stood, still holding the child in her arms. 
 And that was the last Jean Cochrane saw of 
 Claverhouse.
 
 BOOK IV 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 TREASON IN THE CAMP 
 
 SINCE the day Dundee rode away from 
 Glenogilvie, after the scene with Jean, he was 
 a man broken in heart, but he hid his private 
 wound bravely, and gave himself with the 
 fiercer energy to the King's business. Hither 
 and thither through the Highlands he raced, 
 so that he was described in letters of that 
 day as " skipping from one hill to another 
 like wildfire, which at last will vanish of it- 
 self for want of fuel," and "like an in- 
 cendiary to inflame that cold country, yet 
 he finds small encouragement." Anything 
 more pathetic than this last endeavour of 
 Dundee, except it be his death, cannot be 
 imagined. The clans were not devoured 
 with devotion to King James, and were not 
 the victims of guileless enthusiasm ; they 
 
 272
 
 TREASON IN THE CAMP 273 
 
 were not the heroes of romance depicted 
 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 
 they had gained their end, they would make 
 for the glens and leave their general in the 
 lurch. Whether they would rise or not de- 
 pended neither on the merits of William or 
 James, but in the last issue upon their chiefs 
 and the chiefs were not easy to move. 
 Some of them were hostile, and most of them 
 lukewarm ; and Dundee drank the cup of 
 humiliation as he canvassed for his cause 
 from door to door. By pleading, by arguing, 
 by cajoling, by threatening, by promising 
 and by bribing, he got together some two 
 thousand men, more or less, and he had 
 also the remains of his cavalry. His King 
 had, as usual, left him to fend for himself, 
 and sent him nothing but an incapable Irish 
 officer named Cannon and some ragged Irish 
 recruits, while MacKay was watching him 
 and following him with a well-equipped force. 
 Now and again the sun shone on him and 
 he had glimpses of victory, driving MacKay 
 
 18
 
 274 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 for days before him, and keeping up com- 
 munication with Livingstone, who had come 
 from Dundee with his dragoons, and was 
 playing the part of traitor in MacKay's army 
 for Jean was still determined, with charac- 
 teristic obstinacy and indifference to suspi- 
 cion, to reap the fruit of her negotiation with 
 Livingstone. It seemed as if Dundee would 
 at least gain a few troops of cavalry, which 
 would be a great advantage to him and a 
 disquieting event for MacKay's army. But 
 again the Fates were hostile, and misfortune 
 dogged the Jacobite cause. MacKay got 
 wind of the plot, Livingstone and his fellow- 
 officers were arrested, and Jean's scheming, 
 with all its weary expedients and bitter cost, 
 came to naught. 
 
 When Claverhouse, in the height of 
 summer, started on his last campaign and 
 descended on Blair Athole, he carried 
 himself as one in the highest spirits and 
 assured of triumph. He sent word every- 
 where that things were going well with the 
 cause, and that the whole world was with 
 him ; he made no doubt of crushing MacKay 
 if he opposed his march into the Lowlands, 
 and of entering Edinburgh after another 
 fashion than he had left it. He kept a bold
 
 TREASON IN THE CAMP 275 
 
 front, and wrote in a buoyant style ; but 
 this was partly the pride of his house, and 
 partly the tactics of a desperate leader. 
 Though a bigot to his cause, Graham was 
 not a madman. He was a thorough believer 
 in the power of guerrilla troops, but he 
 knew that in the end they would go down 
 before the regulars. He hoped, by availing 
 himself of the hot courage of the clansmen, 
 to deal a smashing blow at his old rival, 
 but unless the Lowlands and the regulars 
 joined James's side, there was not the re- 
 motest chance of unseating William from 
 his new throne. His w r ords were high, but 
 his heart was anxious, as he hurried with his 
 little army to strike once at least for the 
 King, and to make his last adventure. He 
 had decided on the line of march to be 
 taken next morning, and the place where he 
 would join issue with Mac Kay, who was 
 coming up from Perth with a small army 
 of regular troops, many of whom were 
 veterans. He had discussed the matter 
 with his staff, and settled with the jealous 
 and irascible chiefs as best he could the 
 position they were to take on the battle- 
 field, and he had fallen into a fit of gloomy 
 meditation, when Grimond entered the
 
 276 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 room in Blair Castle, where Dundee had 
 his headquarters for the night. 
 
 If Grimond, for pure malice or even for 
 jealousy, had invented that unhappy inter- 
 view between Lady Dundee and Livingstone, 
 or if it had been shown that he had by a 
 word perverted the conversation, then his 
 master, who had sent many a Covenanter 
 to death because he loved his religion more 
 than King James, would have shot even 
 that faithful servant without scruple and 
 with satisfaction. But it was in keeping 
 with the chivalry of Dundee his sense of 
 justice, his appreciation of loyalty, and his 
 admiration for thoroughness that he took 
 no revenge for his own madness upon the 
 unwitting cause thereof. During the brief 
 stay at Glenogilvie, Grimond hid himself 
 with discretion, so that neither his master 
 nor mistress either saw or 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 a welcome 
 from its master, or rather expects a blow 
 and yet cannot leave him or let him go 
 alone, will suddenly join him on the road by 
 which he is making his journey, and will 
 follow him distantly, but ever keep him in
 
 TREASON IN THE CAMP 277 
 
 sight, so Jock was found one morning 
 among the troopers. He kept as far from 
 his master as he could and was careful not 
 to obtrude himself or offer to resume a 
 servant's duty. Dundee's face hardened at 
 the sight of him, but he said no word, and 
 Jock made no approach. With wise dis- 
 cretion he remained at a distance, and 
 seemed anxious to be forgotten, but he had 
 his own plan of operations. One morning 
 Dundee found his bits and stirrups and the 
 steel work of his horse furnishing polished 
 and glittering as they had not been since 
 he rode to Glenogilvie, and he suspected 
 that an old hand had been at work. 
 Another day his cuirass was so well and 
 carefully done, his uniform so perfectly 
 brushed and laid out, and his lace cravat 
 so skilfully arranged that he was certain 
 Grimond was doing secret duty. Day by 
 day the signs of his attention grew more 
 frequent and visible, till at last one morning 
 he appeared in person, and without remark 
 began to assist his master with his arms. 
 Nothing passed between them, and for weeks 
 relations were very strained, but before the 
 end Grimond knew that he had been forgiven 
 for his superfluity of loyalty, and Dundee
 
 278 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 was thankful that, as the shadows settled upon 
 his life blacker and deeper every day, one 
 honest man was his companion, and would 
 remain true when every fair-weather friend 
 and false schemer had fled. One can 
 make excuses for jealousy when it is another 
 name for love ; one may not quarrel with 
 doggedness when it is another name for 
 devotion. There are not too many people 
 who have in them the heart to be faithful 
 unto death, not too many who will place 
 one's interest before their own life. When 
 a man's back is at the wall, and he is not sure 
 even of his nearest, he will not despise or 
 quarrel with the roughest or plainest man 
 who will stand by his side and share his lot, 
 either of life or death. So Jock was rein- 
 stated without pardon asked or given, and 
 with no reference to the tragedy of Gleno- 
 gilvie, and Dundee knew that he had beside 
 him a faithful and fearless watchdog of the 
 tough old Scottish breed. As Grimond 
 busied himself with preparations for the even- 
 ing meal among other dark suspicions he 
 had taken into his head that Dundee might 
 be poisoned his master's eye fell on him, and 
 at the sight memory woke. John Graham 
 recalled the days when Grimond received
 
 him from the charge of his nurse, and took 
 him out upon the hills round Glenogilvie. 
 How he taught him to catch trout with his 
 own hands below the big stones of the burn, 
 how he told him the names of the wild birds 
 and their ways, how he gave him his first 
 lesson in sport, how one day he saved his 
 life, when he was about to be gored by an 
 infuriated bull. All the kindness of this 
 hard man and his though tfulness, all his 
 faithfulness and unselfishness, touched Dun- 
 dee'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 ac- 
 cent of former days and kindly doings. 
 Now, a person's name may mean anything 
 according to the way in which it is pro- 
 nounced. It may be an accusation, a rebuke, 
 an insult, a threat, or it may be an appeal, a 
 thanksgiving, a benediction, a caress. And 
 at the sound of the word, said more kindly 
 than he had ever heard it, Grimond turned 
 him round and looked at his master ; his 
 grim, lean, weather-beaten face relaxed and 
 softened and grew almost gentle.
 
 " Maister John, Maister John," and sud- 
 denly he did a thing incredible for his 
 undemonstrative, unsentimental, immovable 
 granite nature. He knelt down beside Dun- 
 dee, and seizing his hand, kissed it, while 
 tears rolled down his cheeks. " My laddie, 
 and my lord, baith o' them, this is 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 
 confess that I was wrang, for it's been my 
 infirmity to be always richt, but I sinned in 
 this matter grievously, and micht have done 
 what could never be put richt. But oh ! my 
 lord, it was a' for love's sake, for though I be 
 only a serving man to the house of Graham, 
 I dare to say I have been 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 were angry wi' me 
 I didna blame you, I coonted ye just, but 
 'twas to me as when the sun gaes behind 
 the clouds. I cared neither to eat nor drink 
 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 
 favour, I'm in the licht again, and I carena 
 what happens to me, neither hardship nor
 
 death. Oh ! my loved lord, will ye call 
 me Jock again ? " When the severe and 
 self-contained Lowland Scot takes fire, 
 there is such strength of fuel in him, that 
 he burns into white heat, and there is no 
 quenching of the flame. And at that 
 moment Graham understood, as he had only 
 imagined before, the passion which can be 
 concealed in the heart of a Scots retainer. 
 
 " Get up, Jock, you old fool and my 
 trusty friend." Claverhouse concealed but 
 poorly behind his banter the emotion of his 
 heart, for Jock had found him in a lonely 
 mood. 
 
 " You and me are no made for kneeling, 
 except to our Maker and our king. Faith, I 
 judge we are better at the striking. Aye, we 
 are friends again, and shall be till the end, 
 which I am thinking may not be far off. Ye 
 gave me a bitter time, the like of which I 
 never had before, and beside which death, 
 when it comes, will be welcome, but ye did 
 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 
 at cross purposes. It seemeth to me as if 
 we were travelling in the darkness, knowing 
 not whether the man beside us be friend
 
 or foe, and often striking at our friends by 
 mistake. But we must march on till the 
 day breaks. 
 
 " It'll break for us soon, at any rate," went 
 on Dundee, "for by to-morrow night the 
 matter will be settled between General Mac- 
 Kay and me. Div ye mind, Jock, how I fain 
 would have fought with him at The Hague, 
 and he wouldna take my challenge ? " 
 
 " Cowardly and cold-blooded Whig like the 
 lave o' them," burst out Jock, in a strong re- 
 action from his former mood of tenderness. 
 " Leave him to look after himsel' ; he micht 
 have stood mair nor once thae last weeks 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, ye may take my word 
 for it, it will come off at Killiecrankie before 
 the sun goes down again behind the hills. 
 There will be a fair field and a free fight, 
 and the best man will win ; and, Jock, I will 
 not be sorry when the sun sets. What ails 
 you, Jock, for your face is downcast ? That 
 didna use to be the way with you in the Low 
 Country on the prospect of battle. Div 
 ye mind Seneffe and the gap in the wall ? "
 
 TREASON IN THE CAMP 283 
 
 " Fine, my lord, fine, and I'll acknowledge 
 that I've nae rooted objection in principle or 
 in practice to fechtin' that is, when it's to 
 serve a richt cause and there be a good chance 
 o' victory, to say nothing o' profit. But a* 
 thing maun be fair and aboveboard, and I'm 
 dootin' whether that will be the case the 
 morn'. What I'm feared o' is no war, but 
 black murder." And there was an earn- 
 estness in Grimond's tone which arrested 
 Dundee. 
 
 " My lord," said Jock, in answer to the 
 interrogation on his master's face, " I came 
 here to speak, if Providence gave me the 
 chance, for aifter all that has happened 1 
 didna consider your ear would be open to 
 hear me. When a man has made as big a 
 mistake as I have dune, and caused as muckle 
 sorrow, it behooves him to walk softly, and 
 this is pairt of his judgment that them he 
 loves most may trust him least. 
 
 " Na, na, my lord," for the face of 
 Dundee was beginning again to blacken, 
 " I've no a word to say against her ladyship. 
 I gather she has been doing what she can 
 for the cause wi' them slippery rascals o' 
 dragoons and their Laodicean commander, of 
 whom I have my ain thoughts. I fear me,
 
 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 indeed, to say what I have found, and what 
 I am suspecting, for ye hae reason to con- 
 clude that my head is full o' plots, and that 
 broodin' ower treachery has made me daft." 
 
 " What is it now, Jock ? " in a tone be- 
 tween 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 with it, and let us know the 
 worst at once." 
 
 " Ye are laughin', Maister John, and I will 
 not deny ye have justification. 1 wish to God 
 I be as far frae the truth this time as I was 
 last time, but there is somethin' gaein' on 
 in the camp that bodes nae gude to yersel', 
 and through you to the cause. It was not 
 for naethin' I watched two of our new 
 recruits for days, and heard a snap o' their 
 conversation yesterday on the march." 
 
 " I'll be bound, Jock, ye heard some wild 
 talk, for I doubt our men are readier 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, and 
 desperate men for a wild adventure." 
 
 " Gude knows, my ears are weel accus-
 
 TREASON IN THE CAMP 285 
 
 tomed to the clatter of the camp, and it's no 
 a coarse word here or there would offend 
 Jock Grimond. But the men I mean are 
 of the other kind ; they speak like gentle- 
 folk, and micht, for the manner o' them, sit 
 wi' her ladyship in Dudhope Castle." 
 
 " Broken gentlemen, very likely, Jock. 
 There have always been plenty in our ranks. 
 Surely you are not going to make that a 
 crime at this time of the day. If I had five 
 
 / 
 
 hundred of that kidney behind me, I would 
 drive MacKay horse, foot and bits of artil- 
 lery like chaff before the wind. A gentle- 
 man makes a good trooper, and when he has 
 nothing to lose, he's the very devil to fight." 
 " But that's no a' else. I wouldna have 
 troubled you, my lord, but the two are aye 
 thegither, and keep in company like a pair 
 o' dogs poachin'. They have the look o' men 
 who are on their gaird, and are feared o' 
 bein' caught by surprise. According to their 
 story they had served with Livingstone's 
 dragoons, and had come over to us because 
 they were for the good cause. But ane o* 
 Livingstone's lads wha deserted at the same 
 time, and has naethin' wrong wi' him except 
 that he belongs to Forfar and has a perpetual 
 drouth, tells me that our twa friends 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 what for 
 aye, what for ? " 
 
 "For King James, I should say, and a 
 bellyful of fighting," said Dundee carelessly. 
 
 " Maybe ye 're richt, and if so, there's no 
 mischief done ; and maybe ye're wrang, and 
 if so, there will be black trouble. At ony 
 rate, I didna like the story, and I wasna 
 taken wi' the men. No that they're bad- 
 lookin', but they're after some ploy. Weel, 
 they ride by themsel's, and they camp by 
 themsel's, and they eat by themsel's, and they 
 sleep by themsel's. So this midday, when 
 we haltit, they made off to the bank o' the 
 river, and settled themsel's ablow a tree, and 
 by chance a burn ran into the river there wi' 
 a high bank on the side next 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 ground- 
 less fears. " Go on. So you did a bit of 
 scouting, I suppose ? " 
 
 " I did," said Jock, with some pride, " and 
 they never jaloused wha was lying close be- 
 side them, like a tod in his hole. I'm no
 
 TREASON IN THE CAMP 287 
 
 prepared to say that I could catch a' their 
 colloguing, but I got enough to set me 
 thinkin'. Juist bits, but they could be pieced 
 togither." 
 
 "Well," said Dundee, with more interest, 
 " what were the bits ? " 
 
 " The one asks the other where he keeps 
 his pass. ' Sewn in the lining of my coat,' 
 says he. ' Where's yours ? ' 'In my boot,' 
 answers he, ' the safest place.' Who gave 
 them the passes, thinks I to myself, and what 
 are 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 work goes against 
 my stomach/ * Aha ! my lad, so it's under- 
 hand,' says I in my hole. ' It's worth the 
 doing,' says the other, ' and a big stroke of 
 work if we succeed. It might be a throne 
 one way or other.' ' Not to us,' laughs the 
 first. ' No,' says his friend, ' but we'll have 
 our share.' * This is no ordinary work,' says 
 I to mysel', and I risked my ears out of the 
 hole. ' It's no an army,' says one o' them, 
 * but juist a rabble, and a' depends on one 
 man.' * You're right there,' answers the
 
 288 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 other, ' if he falls all is over.' Then they 
 said something to one another I couldn't 
 catch, and then one stretched himself, as I 
 took it by his kicking a stone into the river, 
 and rose, saying, ' By heaven 1 we'll manage 
 it.' The other laughed as he rose too, and as 
 they went away the last words I heard were, 
 * The devil, Jack, is more likely to be our 
 friend.' Notice this, my lord, every word 
 in the English tongue, as fine and smooth 
 spoken as ye like. Where did they come 
 from, and what are they after ? Aye, and 
 wha is to fall, that's the question, my lord ? " 
 Dundee started, for Jock's story had un- 
 loosed a secret fear in his mind, which he 
 had often banished, but which had been 
 returning with great force. As a band holds 
 together the sheaf of corn, so he alone kept 
 King James's army. Apart from him there 
 was no cohesion, and apart from him there 
 was no commander. With his death, not 
 only would the forces disperse, but the cause 
 of King James would be ended. If he were 
 out of the way, William would have no 
 other cause for anxiety, and he knew the de- 
 termined and cold-blooded character of his 
 former master. William had given him his 
 chance, and he had not taken it. He would
 
 have no more scruple in assassinating his 
 opponent than in brushing a fly off the table. 
 Instead of gathering an army and fighting 
 him through the Highlands and Lowlands, 
 just one stroke of a dirk or a pistol bullet 
 and William is secure on his throne. " Jock 
 may be right for once," said Claverhouse to 
 himself, " and, by heaven ! if I am to fall, I 
 had rather be shot in front than behind." 
 He wrote an order to the commander of 
 the cavalry, and in fifteen minutes the two 
 troopers were standing before him disarmed 
 and guarded. 
 
 The moment Dundee looked at them he 
 knew that Jock was correct in saying that 
 they were not common soldiers, for they had 
 the unmistakable manner of gentlemen, and 
 as soon as they spoke he also knew that they 
 were Englishmen. One was tall and fair, 
 with honest blue eyes, which did not suggest 
 treachery, the other was shorter and dark, with 
 a more cautious and uncertain expression. 
 
 " For certain reasons, gentlemen," said 
 Dundee, with emphasis upon the word, " I 
 desire by your leave to ask you one or two 
 questions. If you will take my advice, you 
 had better answer truthfully. I will not 
 waste time about things I know. What 
 
 19
 
 290 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 brought you from Livingstone's dragoons to 
 us ? why were ye so short a time with them ? 
 and why did ye leave the English army? 
 Tell no lies, I pray you. I can see that ye 
 are soldiers and have been officers. Why 
 are you with us in the guise of troopers ? " 
 
 " You know so much, my lord," said the 
 taller man, with that outspoken candour 
 which is so taking, " that I may as well tell 
 you all. We have held commissions in the 
 army, and are, I suppose, officers to-day, 
 though they will be wondering where we are, 
 and we should be shot if we were caught. 
 You will excuse me giving our names, for 
 they could not be easily kept. We belong 
 to families which have ever been true to 
 their king, and we came north to take a 
 share in the good work. That is the only 
 way that we could manage it, and we do not 
 fancy it overmuch, but we have taken our 
 lives in our hands for the adventure." 
 
 " You are men of spirit, I can see," said 
 Dundee ironically, "but ye are wise men 
 also, and have reduced your risks. Would 
 you do me the favour of showing the passes 
 with which you provided yourselves be- 
 fore leaving England ? Save yourselves the 
 trouble of argument. One of you has got
 
 TREASON IN THE CAMP 291 
 
 his pass in his coat, and the other in his boot. 
 I'm sure you would not wish to be stripped." 
 
 The shorter man coloured with vexation 
 and then paled, but the other only laughed 
 like a boy caught in a trick, and said, " There 
 are quick eyes, 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 
 the bearers to go where they please, and signed 
 by his Majesty's secretary of state." And 
 Dundee looked at them with a mocking smile. 
 
 " Damn those passes ! " said the spokes- 
 man with much geniality. " I always 
 thought we should have destroyed them 
 once we were safely through the other lines, 
 but my friend declared they might help us 
 afterwards in time of need." 
 
 " And now, gentlemen, they are going to 
 hang you, for shooting is too honourable for 
 spies and, worse than spies, assassins, for," 
 concluded Dundee softly, " it was to shoot 
 me you two loyal Cavaliers have come." 
 
 The shorter man was about to protest, in 
 hope of saving his life, but his comrade 
 w r aved him to be silent, and for the last 
 time took up the talk.
 
 292 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 " We are caught in a pretty coil, my lord. 
 Circumstances are against us, and we have 
 nothing to put on the other side, except our 
 word of honour as gentlemen. Neither my 
 comrade nor I are going to plead for our 
 lives, though we don't fancy being hanged. 
 But perhaps of your courtesy, if we write 
 our names, you will allow a letter to go to 
 General MacKay, and that canting Puritan 
 will be vastly amused when he learns that 
 he had hired us to assassinate my Lord 
 Dundee. He will be more apt to consider 
 our execution an act of judgment for join- 
 ing the Malignants. We got our passes by 
 trickery from Lord Nottingham, and they 
 have tricked us, and, by the gods ! the whole 
 affair is a fine jest, except the hanging. I 
 would rather it had been shooting, but I 
 grant that if MacKay had sent us on such 
 an errand, both he and we deserve to be 
 hung." And the Englishman shrugged his 
 shoulders as one who had said his last word 
 and accepted his fate. 
 
 He carried himself so bravely, with such 
 an ingenuous countenance and honest 
 speech, that Claverhouse was interested in 
 the man, and the reference to MacKay 
 arrested him in his purpose. They were not
 
 TREASON IN THE CAMP 293 
 
 likely to have come on such an errand from 
 MacKay's camp without the English general 
 knowing what they were about. Was Mac- 
 Kay the man to sanction a proceeding so 
 cowardly and so contrary to the rules of 
 war ! Of all things in the world, was not 
 this action the one his principles would most 
 strongly condemn? Certainly their con- 
 versation by the riverside had been sus- 
 picious, but then Grimond had made one 
 hideous mistake before. It was possible 
 that he had made another. Graham had 
 insulted his loyal wife through Grimond's 
 blundering ; it would be almost as bad if 
 he put to an ignominious death two adven- 
 turous, blundering English Cavaliers. He 
 ordered that the Englishmen should be kept 
 under close arrest till next morning, and 
 he sent the following letter by a swift 
 messenger and under flag of truce to the 
 general of the English forces. 
 
 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
 
 294 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 not condescend to dishonour. 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 hanged early to-morrow 
 morning. 
 
 Albeit we were rivals in the Low Country and will 
 soon fight our duel to the death, I am loth 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 honour 
 to be, 
 
 Your most obedient servant, 
 
 DUNDEE.
 
 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT 
 
 UPON an upper floor of Blair Castle there 
 was a long and spacious apartment, like unto 
 the gallery in Paisley Castle, where John 
 Graham had been married to Jean Cochrane, 
 and which to-day is the drawing-room. To 
 this high place Claverhouse climbed from the 
 room where he had examined the two Eng- 
 lishmen, and here he passed the last hours 
 of daylight on the day before the battle of 
 Killiecrankie. Seating himself at one of the 
 windows, he looked out towards the west, 
 through whose golden gates the sun had be- 
 gun to enter. Beneath lay a widespreading 
 meadow which reached to the Garry ; beyond 
 the river the ground began to rise, and in 
 the distance were the hills covered with 
 heather, with lakes of emerald amid the 
 purple. There are two hours of the day 
 when the soul of man is powerfully affected 
 
 295
 
 296 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 by the physical world in which we live, and 
 in which, indeed, the things we see become 
 transparent, like a thin veil, and through 
 them the things which are not seen stream in 
 upon the soul. One is sunrise, when there 
 is first a greyness in the east, and then the 
 clouds begin to redden, and afterwards a 
 joyful brightness heralds the appearing of 
 the sun as he drives in rout the reluctant 
 rearguard of the night. The most impres- 
 sive moment is when all the high lands are 
 bathed in soft, fresh, hopeful sunshine, but 
 the glens are still lying in the cold and dank 
 shadow, so that one may suddenly descend 
 from a place of brightness, where he has 
 been in the eye of the sun, to a land of 
 gloom, which the sun has not yet reached. 
 Sunrise quickens the power that has been 
 sleeping, and calls a man in high hope to the 
 labour of the day, for if there be darkness 
 lingering in the glen, there is light on the 
 lofty table-lands, and soon it will be shining 
 everywhere, when the sun has reached his 
 meridian. And it puts heart into a man to 
 come over the hill and down through the 
 hollows when the sun is rising, for though 
 the woods be dark and chill, the traveller is 
 sure of the inevitable victory of the light.
 
 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT 297 
 
 Yet more imperious and irresistible is the 
 impression of sunset as Dundee saw the clos- 
 ing pageant of the day on the last evening of 
 his life. When first he looked the green 
 plain was flooded with gentle light which 
 turned into gold the brown, shaggy Highland 
 cattle scattered among the grass, and made 
 the river as it flashed out and in among the 
 trees a chain of silver, and took the hardness 
 from the jagged rocks that emerged from 
 the sides of the hills. As the sun entered in 
 between high banks of cloud, the light began 
 to fade from the plain, and it touched the 
 river no more ; but above the clouds were 
 glowing and reddening like a celestial army 
 clad in scarlet and escorting home to his 
 palace a victorious general. In a few minutes 
 the sun has disappeared, and the red changes 
 into violet and delicate, indescribable shades 
 of green and blue, like the colour of Nile 
 water. Then there is a faint flicker, sudden 
 and transient, from the city into which the 
 sun has gone, and the day is over. As the 
 monarch of the day withdraws, the queen of 
 the night takes possession, and Claverhouse, 
 leaning his chin upon his hand and gazing 
 from the sadness of his eyes across the 
 valley, saw the silver light, clear, beautiful,
 
 298 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 awful, flood the mountains and the level 
 ground below, till the outstanding hills above, 
 and the cattle which had lain down to rest 
 in the meadow, were thrown out as in an 
 etching, with exact and distinct outlines. 
 The day, with its morning promise, with its 
 noontide heat, with its evening glory, was 
 closed, completed and irrevocable. The 
 night, in which no man can work, had come, 
 and in the cold and merciless light thereof 
 every man's work was revealed and judged. 
 The weird influence of the hour was upon 
 the imagination of an impressionable man, 
 and before him he saw the history of his life. 
 It seemed only a year or so since he was a 
 gay-hearted lad upon the Sidlaw hills, and 
 yesterday since 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 crossing swords for the first 
 time with Hugh MacKay, with whom he is 
 to settle his warfare to-morrow. He is again 
 pledging his loyalty to King James at White- 
 hall, whom he has done his best to serve, and 
 who has been but a sorry master to him. His 
 thoughts turn once more to the pleasaunce 
 of Paisley Castle, he hears again the jingling 
 of the horses' bits as he pledges his troth to
 
 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT 299 
 
 his bride. Across the moss-hags, where the 
 horses plunge in the ooze and the mist 
 encircles the troopers, he is hunting his 
 Covenanting prey, and catches the fearless 
 face of some peasant zealot as he falls pierced 
 with bullets. Jean weaves her arms round 
 his neck, for once in her life a tender and 
 fearful woman, pleading that he should with- 
 draw from the fight and live quietly with her 
 at home, and then, more like herself, she 
 rages in the moment of his mad jealousy 
 and her unquenchable anger. To-morrow 
 he would submit to the final arbitrament of 
 arms the cause for which he had lived, and 
 for which the presentiment was upon him 
 that he would die, and the quarrel begun 
 between him and MacKay fifteen years ago, 
 between the sides they represent centuries 
 ago, would be settled. If the years had been 
 given back to him to live again, he would not 
 have had them otherwise. Destiny had set- 
 tled for him his politics and his principles, 
 for he could not leave the way in which 
 Montrose had gone before, or be the comrade 
 of Covenanting Whigs. It would have been 
 a thing unnatural and impossible. And yet 
 he feared that the future was with them and 
 not with the Jacobites. He only did his part
 
 300 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 in arresting fanatical hillmen and executing 
 the punishment of the law upon them, but he 
 would have been glad that night if he had 
 not been obliged to shoot John Brown of 
 Priest Hill before his wife's eyes, and keep 
 guard at the scaffold from which Pollock 
 went home to God. He had never loved 
 any other woman than Jean Cochrane, and 
 they were well mated in their high temper 
 of nature, but their marriage had been tem- 
 pestuous, and he was haunted with vague 
 misgivings. What light was given him he 
 had followed, but there was little to show for 
 his life. His king had failed him, his com- 
 rades had distrusted him, his nation hated 
 him. His wife had she forgiven him, and 
 was she true-hearted to him still? Behind 
 high words of loyalty and hope his heart had 
 been sinking, and now it seemed to him in 
 the light of eternal judgment, wherein there 
 is justice but no charity, that his forty years 
 had failed and were leaving behind them no 
 lasting good to his house or to his land. The 
 moonlight shining full upon Claverhouse 
 shows many a line now on the smoothness of 
 his fair girl face, and declares his hidden, 
 inextinguishable sorrow, who all his days 
 had been an actor in a tragedy. He had
 
 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT 301 
 
 written to the chiefs that all the world 
 was with him, but in his heart he knew 
 that it was against him, and perhaps 
 also God. 
 
 Once and again Grimond had come 
 into the gallery to summon his master 
 to rest, but seeing him absorbed in one 
 of his reveries had quietly withdrawn. 
 Full of anxiety, for he knows what the 
 morrow will mean, that faithful servitor 
 at last came near and rustled to catch his 
 master's ear. 
 
 " Jock," said Claverhouse, startling and 
 rising to his feet, " is that you, man, coming 
 to coax me to my bed as ye did lang syne, 
 when ye received me first from my nurse's 
 hands ? It's getting late, and I am needing 
 rest for to-morrow's work, if I can get it. 
 We have come to Armageddon, as the 
 preachers would say, and mony things for 
 mony days hang on the issue. All a man 
 can do, Jock, is to walk in the road that was 
 set before him from a laddie, and to complete 
 the task laid to his hand. What will happen 
 afterwards doesna concern him, so be it he is 
 faithful. Where is my room ? And, hark ye, 
 Jock, waken me early, and be not far from 
 me through the night, for I can trust
 
 302 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 you altogether. And there be not mony 
 true." 
 
 Worn out with a long day in the saddle, 
 and the planning of the evening, together 
 with many anxieties, and the inward tumult 
 of his mind, Claverhouse fell asleep. He 
 was resting so quietly that Grimond, who had 
 gone to the door to listen, was satisfied and 
 lay down to catch an hour or two of sleep for 
 himself, for he could waken at any hour he 
 pleased, and knew that soon after daybreak 
 he must be stirring. While he was near by, 
 heavy with sleep, his master, conscious or 
 unconscious, according as one judges, was in 
 the awful presence of the unseen. He woke 
 suddenly, as if he had been called, and knew 
 that some one was in the room, but also in the 
 same instant that it was not Grimond or any 
 visitor of flesh and blood. Twice had the 
 wraith of the Grahams appeared to him, and 
 always before a day of danger, but this time 
 it was no sad, beautiful woman's face, carry- 
 ing upon its weird grace the sorrows of his 
 line, but the figure of a man that loomed from 
 the shadow. The moon had gone behind a 
 cloud, and the room was so dark that he 
 could only see that some one was there, but 
 could not tell who it was or by what name he
 
 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT 303 
 
 would be called. Then the moon struggled 
 out -.from behind her covering, and sent a 
 shaft of light into the gloomy chamber, with 
 its dark draping and heavy carved furniture. 
 With the coming of the light Claverhouse, 
 who was not unaccustomed to ghostly sights, 
 for they were his heritage, raised himself in 
 bed, and knowing no fear looked steadily. 
 What he saw thrown into relief against the 
 shadows was the figure of a hillman of the 
 west, and one that in an instant he knew. 
 The Covenanter was dressed in rough home- 
 spun hodden grey, stained heavily with the 
 black of the peat holes in which he had been 
 hiding, and torn here and there where the 
 rocks had caught him as he was crawling for 
 shelter. Of middle age, with hair hanging 
 over his ears and beard uncared for, his face 
 bore all the signs of hunger and suffering, 
 as of one who had wanted right food and 
 warmth and every comfort of life for months 
 on end. In his eyes glowed the fire of an 
 intense and honest, but fierce and narrow 
 piety, and with that expression was mingled 
 another, not of anger nor of sorrow, but of 
 reproach, of judgment and of sombre 
 triumph. His hands were strapped in front 
 of him with a stirrup leather, and his head
 
 304 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 was bare. As the moon shone more clearly, 
 Claverhouse saw other stains than those of 
 peat upon his chest, and while he looked the 
 red blood seemed to rise from wounds that 
 pierced his heart and lungs ; it flowed out 
 again in a trickling stream, and dripped upon 
 the whiteness of his hands. More awful still, 
 there was a wound in his forehead, and part 
 of his head was shattered. 
 
 The scene had never been absent long 
 from Claverhouse's memory, and now he 
 reacted it again. How this man had been 
 caught, after a long pursuit, upon the moor, 
 how he had stood bold and unrepentant be- 
 fore the man that had power of life and 
 death over him, how he refused to take the 
 oath of loyalty to the King, how he had been 
 shot dead before his cottage, and how his 
 wife had been spectator of her husband's 
 death. 
 
 " Ye have not forgot me, John Graham 
 of Claverhouse, nor the deed which ye did 
 at Priest Hill in the West Country. I am 
 John Brown, whom ye caused 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 have washed 
 my robes and made them white in better
 
 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT 305 
 
 blood than this, but I am sent in the 
 garment o' earth, sair stained wi' its defile- 
 ment, and in my ain unworthy blude, that 
 ye may ken me and believe that I am 
 sent." " 
 
 " What I did was according to law," an- 
 swered Claverhouse, unshaken by the sight, 
 " and in the fulfilling of my commission, 
 though God knows I loved not the work, 
 and have oftentimes regretted thy killing. 
 For that and all the deeds of this life I 
 shall answer to my Judge and not to man. 
 What wilt thou have with me ? what hast 
 thou to do with me ? Had it been the 
 other way and I had fallen at Drumclog, 
 I had not troubled thee or any of thy 
 kind." 
 
 " Nor had I been minded or allowed to 
 visit thee, John Graham, if I had fallen in 
 fair fight, contending for Christ's crown and 
 the liberty of the Scots Kirk, but these 
 wounds upon my head and breast speak not 
 of war, but of murder. Because thou didst 
 murder Christ's confessors, and the souls of 
 the martyrs cry from beneath the altar, I am 
 come to show thee things which are to be 
 and the doing of Him who saith, ' I will 
 avenge.' Ye have often said go, and he 
 
 20
 
 goeth, and come and he cometh, but this 
 nicht ye will come with me, and see things 
 that will shake even thy bold heart." And 
 so in vision they went. 
 
 Claverhouse was standing in a country 
 kirkyard, and at the hour of sunset. Round 
 him were ancient graves with stones whose 
 inscriptions had been worn away by rough 
 weather, and upon which the grass was grow- 
 ing rank. They were the resting-places of 
 past generations whose descendants had 
 died out, and whose names were forgotten 
 in the land where once they may have been 
 mighty people. Before him was a burying- 
 place he knew, for it belonged to his house. 
 There lay his father, and there he had laid 
 his mother, the Lady Magdalene Graham, 
 to rest, taken as he often thought from 
 the evil to come. The ground had been 
 stirred again, and there was another grave. 
 It was of tiny size, not that of a man or 
 woman, but of a child, and one that had 
 died in its infancy. It was carefully tended, 
 as if the mother still lived and had not yet 
 forgotten her child. At the sight of it 
 Claverhouse turned to the figure by his 
 side. 
 
 " Ye mean not "
 
 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT 307 
 
 " Read," said the Covenanter, " for the 
 writing surely is plain." And this 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 the righteous 
 should slay thee, ye boasted in your heart 
 that there was a man-child to continue your 
 line. But there shall be none, and thine 
 evil house shall die from out the land, like 
 the house of Ahab, the son 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 of the 
 Covenant, and mothers have wept for them, 
 who languished in the dungeon of the 
 Bass and wearied for death. This is the 
 cup ye are drinking this night before 
 the time, for, behold, thou hast harried 
 many homes, but thy house shall be left 
 unto thee desolate." 
 
 For a brief space Claverhouse bent his 
 head, for he seemed to feel the child in his 
 arms, as he had held him before leaving 
 Glenogilvie. Then he rallied his manhood..
 
 308 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 who had never been given to quail before 
 the hardest strokes of fortune. 
 
 " God rest his innocent soul, if this 
 IDC his lot ; but I live and with me my 
 house." 
 
 " Yea, thou livest," said the shade, " and 
 it has been a stumbling-block to many that 
 thou wert spared so long, but the day of 
 vengeance is at hand. Come again with 
 me." 
 
 Claverhouse finds himself now on a plain 
 with the hills above and a river beneath and 
 an ancient house close at hand, and he knows 
 that this is the battle-field of to-morrow. 
 They are standing together on a mound 
 which rises out of a garden, and on the grass 
 the body of a man is lying. A cloth covers 
 his face, but by the uniform and arms 
 Claverhouse knows that it is that of an 
 officer of rank, and one that has belonged 
 to his own regiment of horse. A dint upon 
 the cuirass and the 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 now than 
 the poorest of God's people thou didst 
 mock."
 
 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT 80S 
 
 " It is not other than I expected, nor does 
 this make me afraid, and I judge 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 thy foe, for there has 
 ever been in thee a bold heart, but thy 
 wound is not in front as mine is. See ye., 
 Claverhouse, thou hast been killed from 
 behind." And Claverhouse saw w r here the 
 blood, escaping from a wound near the arm- 
 pit, had stained the grass. " Aye, some one 
 of thine own and riding near beside thee 
 found that place, and as thou didst raise 
 thine arm to call thy soldiers to the slaughter 
 of them who are contending for the right,, 
 thou wast cunningly stricken unto death- 
 By a coward's blow thou hast fallen, O 
 valiant man, and there will be none to 
 mourn thy doom, for thou hast been a man 
 of blood from thy youth up, even unto this 
 day." 
 
 " Thou liest there, and art a false spirit. 
 It may be that your assassins are in my army,, 
 and that I may have the fate of the good 
 archbishop whom the saints slew in cold 
 blood and before his daughter's eyes, but
 
 310 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 if I fall I shall be mourned deep and long by 
 one who was of your faith, and had her name 
 in your Covenant, but whose heart I won 
 like goodly spoil taken from the mighty. If 
 I die by the sword of my Lady Cochrane's 
 men, her daughter will keep my grave green 
 with her tears. If, living, I have been loved 
 by one strong woman, and after I am dead 
 am mourned by her, I have not lived in 
 vain." 
 
 " Sayest thou," replied the shadowy figure, 
 with triumphant scorn. " That was a pretty 
 catch-word to be repeated over the wine cup 
 at the drinking of my lady's health. Verily 
 thou didst deceive a daughter of the godly, 
 and she was willing to be caught in the snare 
 of thy fair face arid soft words. Judge ye 
 whether the child who breaks the bond of 
 the Covenant and turns against the mother 
 who bore her, is likely to be a true wife or a 
 faithful widow. Again will I lift the veil, 
 and thou 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. Dost thou remember this 
 place ? " 
 
 Claverhouse is again within the gallery of 
 Paisley Castle, and he is looking upon a mar-
 
 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT 311 
 
 riage service. Before him are the people of 
 five years ago, except that now young Lord 
 Cochrane is Earl of Dundonald, and is giving 
 away the bride, and my Lady Cochrane is 
 not there either to bless or to ban. For a 
 while he cannot see the faces of the bride or 
 bridegroom, nor tell what they are, save that 
 he is a soldier, and she is tall and proud of 
 carriage. 
 
 " My marriage day ! " exclaimed Claver- 
 house, his defiant note softening into tender- 
 ness, and the underlying sorrow rising into 
 joy. " For this vision at least I bless thee, 
 spirit, whoever thou mayst be, Brown or any 
 other. That was the day of all my life, 
 and I am ready now or any time in this 
 world or the other to have it over again 
 and pledge my troth 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 of my Lady Viscountess 
 Dundee, but be not too sure that thou art 
 the bridegroom. She that broke lightly 
 the Covenant with her living heavenly 
 bridegroom will have little scruple in
 
 312 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 breaking the bond to a dead earthly bride- 
 groom. Thy Jean hath found another 
 husband." 
 
 From the faces of the bride and bride- 
 groom 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 wooed her 
 in the pleasaunce, with her golden hair 
 glittering as before in the sunshine, and the 
 lovelight again in her eye. And beside her, 
 oh ! fickleness of a woman's heart, oh I 
 irony of life, oh ! cruelty to the most faith- 
 ful passion, Colonel Livingstone, now my 
 Lord Kilsyth. And an expression of fierce 
 satisfaction lit up the Covenanter's ghastly 
 face. 
 
 " This then was thy revenge, Jean, for the 
 insult I offered at Glenogilvie, and I was 
 right in my fear that thy love was shattered. 
 Be it so," said Claverhouse. "I believe that 
 thou wast loyal while 1 lived, and now, 
 while I may have hoped other things of 
 thee, I will not grudge thee in thy loneliness 
 peace and protection. When this heart of 
 mine, which ever beat for thee, lies cold in 
 the grave, and my hair, that thou didst 
 caress, has mingled with the dust, may joy
 
 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT 3ia 
 
 be with 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 black depths of jealousy and 
 hatred, as once I damned myself, but I 
 
 
 
 have escaped, and I defy thee. Do as 
 thou pleasest, thou canst not break my spirit 
 or make me bend. Hast thou other 
 visions ? " 
 
 " One more," said the spirit, " and I have 
 done with thee, proud and unrepentant 
 sinner." 
 
 Before Claverhouse is a room in which 
 there has been some sudden disaster, for the 
 roof has fallen and buried in its ruins a bed 
 whereon some one had been sleeping, and a 
 cradle in which some child had been lying. 
 In the foreground is a coffin covered by a 
 paU. 
 
 " She was called before her judge without 
 warning, prepared or unprepared, and thou 
 hadst better see her for the last time ere she 
 goes to the place of the dead." And then the 
 cloth being lifted, Claverhouse looked on the 
 face of his wife, with her infant child, not 
 his, but Kilsyth's, lying at her feet. There 
 was no abatement in the splendour of her hair, 
 nor the pride of her countenance ; the flush.
 
 314 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 was still upon her cheek, and though her eyes 
 were closed there was courage in the set of 
 Tier lips. By an unexpected blow she had 
 been stricken and perished, but in the full- 
 ness of her magnificent womanhood, and un- 
 dismayed. Lying there she seemed to defy 
 death, and her mother's curse, which had 
 come true at last. 
 
 " So thou also art to be cut off in the midst 
 of thy days, Jean. Better this way both for 
 you and me, than to grow old and become 
 feeble, and be carried to and fro, and be 
 despised. We were born to rule and not to 
 serve ; to conquer and not to yield ; to perse- 
 cute if need be, but not to be persecuted. 
 Kilsyth loved thee, it was not his blame ; who 
 would not ? He did his best to please thee. 
 Mayhap it was not much he could 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 of the 
 same creed and temper. I, John Graham of 
 Claverhouse, and not Kilsyth, will claim thee 
 on the judgment day, and thou shalt come 
 with me, as the eagle follows her mate ; 
 together we shall go to heaven or to hell, 
 for we are one. Slain we may be, Jean, but 
 conquered never. We have lived, we have
 
 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT 315 
 
 loved, and neither in life or death can any 
 one make us afraid." 
 
 Outside the trumpets sounded and Claver- 
 house awoke, for the visions of the night had 
 passed and the light of the morning was 
 pouring into his room. 
 
 ***<
 
 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 
 the summer night passed the shadow from 
 Claverhouse's soul. According, also, to the 
 brightness and freshness of the early sun- 
 shine was his high hope on the eventful day, 
 which was to decide both the fate of his King 
 and of himself. The powers of darkness had 
 attacked him on every side, appealing to his 
 fear and to his faith, to his love and to his 
 hate, to his pride and to his jealousy, to see 
 whether they could not shake his constancy 
 and break his spirit. They had failed at 
 every assault, and he had conquered ; he had 
 risen above his ghostly enemies and above 
 himself, and now, having stood fast against 
 principalities and powers of the other world, 
 
 316
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 817 
 
 he was convinced that his earthly enemies 
 would be driven before him as chaff before 
 the wind. He knew exactly what MacKay 
 and his army could do, and what he and his 
 army could, in the place of issue, where, by 
 the mercy of God, Who surely was on the 
 side of His anointed, the battle would be 
 fought. What would avail MacKay 's parade- 
 ground tactics and all the lessons of books, 
 and what would avail the drilling and the 
 manceuvring of his hired automatons in the 
 pass of Killiecrankie, with its wooded banks 
 and swift running river, and narrow gorge 
 and surrounding hills ? This was no level 
 plain for wheeling right and wheeling left, 
 for bombarding with artillery and flanking 
 by masses of cavalry. Claverhouse remem- 
 bers the morning of the battle of Seneffe, 
 when he rode with Carleton and longed to be 
 on the hills with a body of Highlanders, and 
 have the chance of taking by surprise the 
 lumbering army of the Prince of Orange and 
 sweeping it away by one headlong charge. 
 The day for this onslaught had come, and by 
 an irony, or felicity, of Providence, he has the 
 troops he had longed for and his rival has the 
 inert and helpless regulars. News had come 
 that MacKay was marching with phlegmatic
 
 318 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 steadiness and perfect confidence into the 
 trap, and going to place himself at the great- 
 est disadvantage for his kind of army. The 
 Lord was giving the Whigs into his hand, 
 and they would fall before the sun set, as a 
 prey unto his sword. The passion of battle 
 was in his blood, and the laurels of victory 
 were within his reach. Graham forgot his 
 bitter disappointments and cowardly friends, 
 the weary journeys and worse anxieties of 
 the past weeks, the cunning cautiousness of 
 the chiefs and their maddening jealousies. 
 Even the pitiable scene at Glenogilvie and his 
 gnawing vain regret faded for the moment 
 from his memory and from his heart. If the 
 Lowlands had been cold as death to the good 
 cause, the Highlands had at last taken fire ; 
 if he had not one-tenth the army he should 
 have commanded, had every Highlander 
 shared his loyalty to the ancient line, he had 
 sufficient for the day's work. If he had 
 spoken in vain to the King at Whitehall and 
 miserably failed to put some spirit into his 
 timid mind, and been outvoted at the Con- 
 vention, and been driven from Edinburgh 
 by Covenanting assassins and hunted like 
 a brigand by MacKay's troops, his day had 
 now come. He was to taste for the first time
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 3W 
 
 the glorious cup of victory. He had not been 
 so glad or confident since his marriage day, 
 when he snatched his bride from the fastness 
 of his enemy, and as Grimond helped him to 
 arm, and gave the last touches to his martial 
 dress, he jested merrily with that solemn 
 servitor, and sang aloud, to Grimond's vast 
 dismay, who held the good Scottish faith 
 that if you be quiet Providence may leave 
 you alone, but if you show any sign of 
 triumph it will be an irresistible temptation 
 to the unseen powers. 
 
 "I'm judgin', my lord, that we'll win the 
 day, and that it will be a crownin' victory. 
 I would like fine to see MacKay's army 
 tumble in ane great heap into the Garry, 
 with their general on the top o' them. I'm 
 expectin' to see ye ride into Edinburgh at 
 the head o' the clans, and the Duke o' 
 Gordon come oot frae the castle to greet 
 you, as the King's commander-in-chief, and 
 a' Scotland lyin' at your mercy. But for ony 
 sake be cautious, Maister John, and dinna 
 mak' a noise, it's juist temptin' Providence, 
 an', the Lord forgie me for sayin' it, I never 
 saw a hicht withoot a howe. I'm no wantin* 
 you to be there afore the day is done. 
 Dinna sing thae rantin' camp songs, and
 
 320 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 abune a' dinna whistle till a' things be settled ; 
 at ony rate, it's no canny." 
 
 " Was there ever such a solemn face and 
 cautious-spoken fellow living as you, Jock 
 Grimond, though I've seen you take your 
 glass, and, unless my ears played me false, 
 sing a song, too, round the camp-fire in days 
 past. But I know the superstition that is 
 in you and all your breed of Lowland Scots. 
 Whether ye be Covenanters or Cavaliers, ye 
 are all tarred with the same stick. Do ye 
 really think, Jock, that the Almighty sits 
 watching us, like a poor, jealous, cankered 
 Whig minister, and if a bit of good fortune 
 comes our way and our hearts are lifted, that 
 He's ready to strike for pure bad temper ? 
 But there's no use arguing with you, for 
 you're set in your own opinions. But I'll 
 tell you what to do sing the dreariest Psalm 
 ye can find to the longest Cameronian tune. 
 That will keep things right, and ward off 
 judgment, for the blood in my veins is 
 dancing, Jock, and the day of my life has 
 come." 
 
 Claverhouse went out from his room to 
 confer with the chiefs and his officers about 
 the plan of operation, " like a bridegroom 
 coming out of his chamber and rejoicing as
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 321 
 
 a strong man to run a race." Grimond, as 
 he watched him go, shook his head and said 
 to himself, " The last time I heard a Cove- 
 nanting tune was at Drumclog, and it's no 
 a cheerfu' remembrance. May God preserve 
 him, for in John Graham is all our hope and 
 a' my love." 
 
 Through the morning of the decisive day 
 the omens continued favourable, 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 their jealous pride 
 and traditional rivalry rose to fever height. 
 They were often more anxious to settle 
 standing quarrels with one another than to 
 join issue with the enemy ; they would not 
 draw a sword if their pride had in any way 
 been touched, and battles were lost because 
 a clan had been offended. Jacobite councils 
 were also cursed by the self-seeking and 
 insubordination of officers, who were not 
 under the iron discipline of a regular army, 
 and owing to the absence of the central 
 authorities, with a king beyond the water, 
 were apt to fight for their own hand. Dun- 
 dee had known trouble, and had in his day 
 required more self-restraint than nature had 
 given him, and if there had been division 
 
 21
 
 among the chiefs that day, he would have 
 fallen into despair; but he had never seen 
 such harmony. They were of one mind 
 that there could not be a ground more 
 favourable than Killiecrankie, and that they 
 should offer battle to Mac Kay before the 
 day closed. They approved of the line of 
 march which Dundee had laid out, and the 
 chiefs, wonderful to say, raised no objection 
 to the arrangement of the clans in the fight- 
 ing line, even although the MacDonalds 
 were placed on the left, which was not a 
 situation that proud clan greatly fancied. 
 The morning was still young when the 
 Jacobite army left their camping ground in 
 the valley north of Blair Castle, and climbing 
 the hillside, passed Lude, till they reached 
 a ridge which ran down from the high country 
 on their left to the narrow pass through 
 which the Garry ran. Along this rising 
 ground, with a plateau of open ground before 
 them, fringed with wood, Dundee drew up 
 his army, while below MacKay arranged his 
 troops, whom he had hastily extricated from 
 the dangerous and helpless confinement of 
 the pass. During the day they faced one 
 another, the Jacobites on their high ground, 
 William's troops on the level ground below
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 323 
 
 two characteristic armies of Highlanders 
 and Lowlanders, met to settle a quarrel 
 older than James and William, and which 
 would last, under different conditions and 
 other names, centuries after the grass had 
 grown on the battle-field of Killiecrankie and 
 Dundee been laid to his last rest in the 
 ancient kirkyard of Blair. Had Dundee 
 considered only his own impetuous feelings, 
 and given effect to the fire that was burning 
 him, he would have instantly launched his 
 force at MacKay. He was, however, deter- 
 mined that day, keen though he was, to run 
 no needless risks nor to give any advantage 
 to the enemy. The Highlanders were like 
 hounds held in the leash, and it was a 
 question of time when they must be let 
 go. He would keep them if he could, till 
 the sun had begun to set and its light was 
 behind them and on the face of MacKay 's 
 army. 
 
 During this period the messenger came 
 back with an answer to the despatch which 
 Dundee had sent to MacKay the night before. 
 He had found William's general at Pitlochry, 
 as he was approaching the pass of Killie- 
 crankie, and, not without difficulty and some 
 danger, had presented his letter.
 
 324 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 " This man, sir, surrendered himself late 
 last night to my Lord Belhaven, who was 
 bivouacking in the pass which is ahead," said 
 an English aide-de-camp to General Mac- 
 Kay, " and his lordship, from what I am 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 sent 
 him on under guard. It may be that it 
 contains terms of surrender, and at any rate 
 it will, 1 take it, be your desire that the man 
 be kept a prisoner." 
 
 " You may take my word for it, Major 
 Lovel," said young Cameron of Lochiel, who, 
 according to the curious confusion of that 
 day, was with MacKay, while his father was 
 with Dundee, " and my oath also, if that 
 adds anything to my word, that whatever 
 be in the letter, there will be no word of 
 surrender. Lord Dundee will fight as sure 
 as we are living men, and I only pray we 
 may not be the losers. Ye be not wise 
 to laugh," added he hotly, "and ye would 
 not if ye had ever seen the Camerons 
 charge." 
 
 " Peace, gentlemen, we are not here to 
 quarrel with one another," said General 
 MacKay. " Hand me the letter, and do
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 325 
 
 the messenger no ill till we see its 
 contents." 
 
 As he read his cheek flushed for a mo- 
 ment, and he made an impatient gesture 
 with his hand, as one repudiating the 
 shameful accusation, and then he spoke with 
 his usual composure. 
 
 " You are right," he said, addressing 
 Cameron, who was on his staff, " in think- 
 ing that Lord Dundee is ready for the fight. 
 I had expected nothing else from him, for 
 I knew him of old, the bigotry of his prin- 
 ciples, and the courage of his heart. We 
 could never be else than foes, but I wish to 
 say, whatever happens before the day is 
 done, that I count him a brave and honour- 
 able gentleman, as it pleases me to know 
 he counts me also. 
 
 " This letter " and MacKay threw it 
 with irritation on the table of the room in 
 which he had taken his morning meal " is 
 from Dundee explaining that two English 
 officers have been arrested, who were serv- 
 ing as privates in his cavalry, and who are 
 suspected of being sent by us to assassinate 
 him. If no answer is sent back they will 
 be hanged at once, but if the charge is 
 denied, they will be released, which, I take
 
 326 GRAHAM OF CLAVER HOUSE 
 
 it, gentlemen, is merciful and generous con- 
 duct. 
 
 " I will write a letter with my own hand 
 and clear our honour from this foul slander. 
 Spying is allowed in war, though I have 
 never liked it, and the spy need deserve no 
 mercy, but assassination is unworthy of any 
 soldier, and a work of the devil, of which 1 
 humbly trust I am incapable, and also my 
 King. Give this letter "- when he had writ- 
 ten and sealed it " to the messenger, Major 
 Lovel, and see that he has a safe conduct 
 through our army, and past our outposts." 
 Lovel saluted and left the room, but out- 
 side he laughed, and said to himself, " Very 
 likely it's true all the same, and a quick 
 and useful way of ending the war. When 
 Claverhouse dies the rebellion dies too, and 
 there's a text somewhere which runs like 
 this, ' It is expedient that one man should 
 die than all the people.' I wonder who 
 those fellows are, and if they'll manage it, 
 and what they're going to get. They have 
 the devil's luck in this affair, for, of course, 
 MacKay would be told nothing about it; 
 he's the piousest officer in the English 
 army." 
 
 Dundee received MacKay's letter during
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 327 
 
 the long wait before the battle, 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 honour 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 slaving brother. 
 
 J O 
 
 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 
 befell 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
 
 328 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 of our army. It may be the last communication 
 that shall pass between us. 
 I have the honour to be, 
 
 Your very obedient servant, 
 
 HUGH MAC-KAY. 
 Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty's Forces. 
 
 And this was the prayer, surely the most 
 remarkable ever published by a 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 com- 
 mandest 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 for thirty seconds
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 329 
 
 he looked at them without speaking, as 
 if he were searching their thoughts and 
 estimating their character. During this 
 scrutiny the shorter man looked sullen and 
 defiant, as one prepared for the worst, but 
 the other was as careless and gay as ever, 
 with the expression either of one who was 
 sure of a favourable issue, or of one who 
 took life or death as a part of the game. 
 
 "If I tell you, gentlemen, that your 
 general refuses to clear you from this 
 charge, have ye anything to say before 
 ye die ? " 
 
 " Nothing," said their spokesman, with a 
 light laugh, " except that we would take 
 more kindly to a bullet than a rope. 'Tis a 
 soldier's fancy, my lord, but I fear me ye 
 will not humour it ; perhaps ye will even 
 say we have not deserved it." 
 
 When Dundee turned to the other, 
 who had not yet spoken, this was all he 
 got: 
 
 " My lord, that it be quickly, and that no 
 mention be made of our names. It was an 
 adventure, and it has ended badly." 
 
 " Gentlemen, whoever ye may be, and 
 that I do not know, and whatever ye may 
 be about, and of that also I am not sure, I
 
 330 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 have watched you closely, and I freely grant 
 that ye are both brave men. Each in his 
 own way, and each to be trusted by his own 
 cause, though there be one of you I would 
 trust rather than the other. 
 
 " I have this further to say, that General 
 MacKay declares that, so far as he knows, 
 ye are innocent of the foul crime of which 
 we suspected you. I might still keep you 
 in arrest, and it were perhaps wiser to do so ; 
 but I have myself suffered greatly through 
 mistrusting those who were true and honour- 
 able, and I would not wish to let the shadow 
 of disgrace lie upon you, if indeed ye be 
 honest Cavaliers. You have your liberty, 
 gentlemen, to return to your troop, and if 
 there be any gratitude in you for this de- 
 liverance from death, ride in the front and 
 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 word that we 
 shall not fail in our duty," said the taller 
 soldier with a light-hearted laugh. But the 
 other grew dark red in the face, as if a 
 strong passion were stirring within him. 
 " My lord," he said, " I would rather remain 
 as I am till the battle be over, and then
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 331 
 
 that ye give me leave to depart from the 
 army." 
 
 Dundee glanced keenly at him, as one 
 weighing his words, and trying to fathom 
 their meaning, but the taller man broke in 
 with boisterous haste : 
 
 " Pardon my comrade, general ; we Eng- 
 lishmen have proud stomachs, and ye have 
 offended his honour by your charges, but 
 to-day's fighting will be the best medicine." 
 And then he hurried his friend away, and as 
 they left to join their troop he seemed to 
 be remonstrating with him for his touchy 
 scruples. 
 
 " What ye may think of those two gen- 
 tlemen I know not, my lord," said Lochiel, 
 who had been standing by, " but I count the 
 dark man the truer of 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 smooth word and a tricky 
 dirk, like the Campbells. God grant ye be 
 not over-generous, and trustful unto blind- 
 ness." 
 
 " Lochiel, I have trusted, as ye know, 
 many men who have betrayed our cause ; 1 
 have distrusted one who was faithful at a 
 cost to me. On this day, maybe the last of
 
 332 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 my life, I will believe rather than doubt, in 
 the hope that faith will be the surest bond of 
 honour. There is something, I know not 
 what, in that tall fellow I did not like. But 
 what I have done, I have done, and if I have 
 erred, Lochiel, the punishment will be on 
 my own head." 
 
 " On many other heads, too, I judge," 
 muttered Lochiel to himself, and for an in- 
 stant he thought of taking private measures 
 to hinder the two Englishmen from service 
 that day ; but considering that he would have 
 enough to do with his own work, he went to 
 prepare his clan for the hour that was near 
 at hand. 
 
 Dundee dismissed his staff for the time on 
 various duties, and, attended only by Gri- 
 mond, sat down upon a knoll, from which 
 he could see the whole plateau of Urrard 
 the drawn-out line of his own army beneath 
 him, and the corresponding formation of the 
 English troops in the 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, not because he had ever been a pro- 
 fane man, like Esau, but because he had
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 333 
 
 no relish for soldiers who acted as chaplains. 
 To-day, with the lists of battle before his 
 eyes, and the ordeal of last night still fresh 
 in his experience, and his inexcusable cruelty 
 to Jean, his heart was weighed with a sense 
 of the tragedy of life and the tears of things. 
 He was going to fight unto death for his 
 King, but he was haunted by the convic- 
 tion that William was a wiser and better 
 monarch. Mac Kay and he were to cross 
 swords, as before they had crossed words, and 
 would ever cross principles, but he could 
 not help confessing to himself that Mac Kay, 
 in the service of the Prince of Orange, had 
 for years been doing a more soldierly part 
 than his, in hunting to the death Covenanting 
 peasants. His Highlanders below r , hungering 
 for the joy of battle and the gathering of 
 spoil, were brave and faithful, but they were 
 little more than savages, and woe betide the 
 land that lay beneath their sword ; while 
 the troops on the other side represented the 
 forces of order and civilisation, and though 
 they might be routed that evening, they 
 held the promise of final victory. Was it 
 worth the doing, and something of which 
 afterwards a man could be proud, to restore 
 King James to Whitehall, and place Scot-
 
 334 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 land again in the hands of the gang of 
 cowards and evil livers, thieves and liars who 
 had misgoverned it and shamefully treated 
 himself? What a confused and tangled 
 web life was ! and who had eyes to decipher 
 its pattern ? He would live and die for the 
 Stuarts, as Montrose had done before him ; 
 he could not take service under William, 
 nor be partner with the Covenanters. He 
 could do none otherwise, and yet, what a 
 Scotland it would be under James, and what 
 a miserable business for him to return to 
 the hunt of the Covenanters ! 
 
 The buoyancy of the morning had passed, 
 and now his thoughts took a darker turn. 
 MacKay, no doubt, had told the truth, for 
 he was not capable of falsehood, but if those 
 Englishmen were not agents of the English 
 government, did it follow that they were 
 clear of suspicion ? There was some mystery 
 about them, for if indeed they had been 
 Cavalier gentlemen who had abandoned the 
 English service, would they be so anxious 
 to conceal themselves ? Why should they 
 refuse to let their names be known ? They 
 had come from Livingstone's regiment. 
 Was it possible that they had been sent by 
 him, and if so, for what end ? It is the
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 335 
 
 penalty of once yielding to distrust that a 
 person falls into the habit of suspicion, and 
 the latent jealousy of Livingstone began to 
 work like poison in Dundee's blood. Jean 
 was innocent, he would stake his life on that, 
 but Livingstone who knew whether the 
 attraction of those interviews was Dundee's 
 cause or Dundee's wife ? If Livingstone 
 had been in earnest, he had been with King 
 James's men that day ; but he might be 
 earnest enough in love, though halting 
 enough in loyalty. If her husband fell, he 
 would have the freer course in wooing the 
 wife. What if he had arranged the assas- 
 sination, and not William's government ; 
 what if Jean, outraged by that reflection 
 upon her honour and infuriated by wounded 
 pride, had consented to this revenge? Her 
 house had never been scrupulous, and love 
 changed to hate by an insult such as he 
 had offered might be satisfied with nothing 
 less than blood. Stung by this venomous 
 thought, 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, the time for doing has come."
 
 336 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 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 the 
 cavalry, and gave the order to charge. That 
 wild rush of Highlanders, which swept before 
 it, across the plain of Urrard, the thin and 
 panic-stricken line of regular troops, was 
 not a battle. It was an onslaught, a flight, 
 a massacre, as when the rain breaks upon 
 a Highland mountain, and the river in the 
 glen beneath, swollen with the mountain 
 water, dashes to the lowlands with irre- 
 sistible devastation. Grimond placed him- 
 self close behind his master for the charge, 
 and determined that if there was treachery 
 in the ranks, the bullet that was meant for 
 Dundee must pass through him. But the 
 battle advance of cavalry is confused and tu- 
 multuous, as horses and men roll in the dust, 
 and eager riders push ahead of their fellows, 
 and no man knows what he is doing, except 
 that the foe is in front of him. They were 
 passing at a gallop across the ground above 
 Urrard House, when Grimond, who was now 
 a little in the rear of his commander, saw 
 him lift his right arm in the air and wave 
 his sword, and heard him cry, " King James 
 and the crown of Scotland 1 " At that
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 337 
 
 instant he fell forward upon his horse's mane, 
 as one who had received a mortal wound, 
 and the horse galloped off towards the right, 
 with its master helpless upon it. Through 
 the dust of battle, and looking between two 
 troopers who intervened, Grimond saw the 
 fair-haired Englishman lowering the pistol, 
 and thrusting it into his holster, with which 
 he had shot Dundee through the armpit, as 
 he gave his last command. Onward they 
 were carried, till one of the troopers on his 
 right fell and the other went ahead, and 
 there was clear course between Grimond and 
 the Englishman. They were now, both of 
 them, detached from the main body, and the 
 Englishman was planning to fall aside and 
 escape unnoticed from the field. His com- 
 rade could not be seen, and evidently had 
 taken no part in the deed. Grimond was 
 upon him ere he knew, and before he could 
 turn and parry the stroke, Jock's sword was in 
 him, and he fell mortally wounded from his 
 horse. Keen as Grimond was to follow his 
 master, and find him where he must be 
 lying ahead, he was still more anxious to 
 get the truth at last out of the dying man. 
 He knelt down and lifted up his head. 
 " It is over with ye now, and thou hast 
 
 22
 
 338 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 done thy hellish deed. I wish to God I'd 
 killed thee before ; but say before thou 
 goest who was thy master was it Living- 
 stone ? Quick, man, tell the truth, it may 
 serve thee in the other world, and make 
 hell cooler." 
 
 " Livingstone," replied the Englishman 
 with his dying breath, and a look of almost 
 boyish triumph on his face, " what had I to 
 do with him ? It was from my Lord Notting- 
 ham, his Majesty's secretary of state, I took 
 my orders, and I have fulfilled them. Did 
 I not lie bravely and do what I had to do 
 thoroughly ? Thou cunning rascal, save for 
 thee 1 had also escaped . You may take my 
 purse, for thou art a faithful servant. My 
 hand struck the final blow." Now, his 
 breath was going fast from him, and with a 
 last effort, as Grimond dropped his head 
 with a curse, he cried, " You have won 
 the battle. Your cause is lost." 
 
 Amid the confusion the cavalry had not 
 noticed the fall of their commander, and 
 Grimond found his master lying near a 
 mound, a little above the house of Urrard. 
 He was faint through loss of blood, and 
 evidently was wounded unto death, but he 
 recognised his faithful follower, and thanked
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 339 
 
 him with his eyes, as Jock wiped the blood 
 from his lips for he was wounded through 
 the lungs and gave him brandy to restore 
 his strength. 
 
 " Ye cannot staunch that wound, Jock, 
 and this is my last fight. How goes it is 
 it well ? " 
 
 " Well for the King, my lord the battle 
 is won ; but ill for thee, my dear maister." 
 
 " If it be well for the King, it's well for 
 me, Jock, but I wish to God my wound 
 had been in front. That fair-haired fellow, 
 I take it, did the deed. Ye killed him, did 
 ye, Jock ? Well, he deserved it, but I fain 
 would know who was behind him before I 
 die. If it were he whom I suspect, Jock, 
 I could not rest in my grave." 
 
 " Rest easy, Maister John, I wrung the 
 truth frae his deein' lips. It was Lord 
 Nottingham, the English minister, wha 
 fee'd him, the black-hearted devil. Living- 
 stone had naethin' to do wi' the maitter, far 
 less onybody ye luved." 
 
 " Thank God, and you too, Jock, my 
 faithful friend. . . . Tell Lady Dundee 
 that my last thoughts were with her, and 
 my last breath repeated her name. . . . 
 For the rest, I have done what I could,
 
 840 GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE 
 
 according to my conscience. . . . May 
 the Lord have mercy on my sins. . . . God 
 save the King 1 " 
 
 So, after much strife and many sorrows, 
 Claverhouse fell in the moment of victory, 
 and passed to his account. 
 
 THE END 
 
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 GROSVENOR SQUARE 
 
 "A dainty romance." Horning Post 
 
 "A truly worthy successor to ' Peter's 
 Mother.' " Standard. 
 
 DUFF (Miss L. Grant)* 
 
 PERIWINKLE. 
 
 "... One of tbe few novels of 
 the season which are distinctly in- 
 teresting for its treatment of both 
 incident and character. . . . Miss 
 Grant Duff's treatment of Tommy is 
 the cleverest of the many clever 
 characterisations in the book, and 
 were it for nothing but this fresh 
 and vivid study of an unconventional 
 but perfectly natural and consistent 
 type, the novel would have been 
 worth writing and is worth reading. 
 Periwinkle herself is an equally clever 
 and very subtle study." 
 
 Westminster Gazette. 
 
 EGGAR (Arthur). 
 
 THE HATANEE. 
 
 " Mr. Eggar's tale of Burman 
 superstition is excellent, all the 
 more so because its merit is of no 
 ordinary character. . . . Mr. John 
 Murray rarely godfathers an un- 
 worthy story. In this case he offers 
 the public a story rich in suggestion, 
 admirably written and a pageant of 
 local colour." Leeds Mercury. 
 
 FITZROY (Isobel). 
 
 A QUIXOTIC WOMAN. 
 
 " The author arrests and holds 
 the attention of the reader from the 
 first." World. 
 
 FLETCHER (J. S.). 
 DANIEL QUAYNE. 
 
 "The author of 'The Threshing 
 Floor' has given ue a really remark- 
 able successor." The Standard 
 
 HAMILTON (Lillias). 
 
 A VIZIER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Well conceived and well told. 
 A highly readable story." 
 
 A thenttum. 
 
 A NURSE'S BEQUEST. 
 
 HAWTREY (Miss V.). 
 
 SUZANNE. 
 
 " Miss Hawtrey has achieved an 
 undoubted success . . . really re- 
 markable book." 
 
 Manchester Guardian. 
 
 HOUSMAN (Laurence). 
 
 A MODERN ANTAEUS. 
 
 " One of the finest and best books 
 that have appeared." Daily News. 
 
 SABRINA WARHAM. 
 
 This book has much that is true 
 and beautiful." Morning fast. 
 
 HYNE (C. J. Cutcliffe). 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 COMMANDER McTURK. 
 
 "It is a rattling, roaring book." 
 Tribune. 
 
 " One of the most deliciously en- 
 tertaining sea-dogs that fiction has 
 given us. Birmingham Post. 
 
 IDDESLEIGH (Earl of) 
 
 DOWLAND CASTLE. 
 
 KENNY (Miss Louise). 
 
 THE RED-HAIRED 
 WOMAN. 
 
 "A cleverly written romance." 
 Outlook. 
 
 "A crisp, clever book." Liverpool 
 Daily Post.
 
 Mr. Murray's 6/- Novels. 
 
 LAWRENCE (C. E.). 
 
 PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 "The work is worth ten ordinary 
 novels, for it takes us through the 
 externals of worship, chivalry, and 
 love, on that elusive quest upon 
 which practically every human being 
 sooner or later sets out in search of 
 things-as-they-are instead of things- 
 as-they-appear." The Daily Mail. 
 
 LUBBOCK (Basil). 
 
 JACK DERRINGER. 
 
 " The characters are portraits. 
 The stupendous picture of men fight- 
 ing a South Pacific gale, the life 
 on board a Yankee ' hell-ship,' the 
 Spartan philosophy, are from a 
 sailor's pen and mind ... a true 
 and vigorous picture, and the good 
 story seems intensely natural. It is 
 the realism, not [the story that grips 
 you as you read. . . . Melodrama ? 
 Yes, but powerfully convincing." 
 Daily Chronicle. 
 
 MACAULAY (Miss R.). 
 
 ABBOTS VERNEY. 
 
 " A remarkable novel. ... It is 
 finely written. The style is crisp, 
 brilliant and pointed. There is not 
 a superfluous paragraph, line, or 
 phrase. The book will make its 
 mark." Scotsman. 
 
 THE FURNACE. 
 
 MALLOCK (W. H.). 
 
 THE VEIL OF THE 
 TEMPLE. 
 
 " . . , We have rarely seen the 
 connexion between civilization and 
 the postulates of religion more con- 
 vincingly or incisively emphasized." 
 Athentfum. 
 
 MASSON (Rosaline). 
 
 LESLIE FARQUHAR. 
 
 "The most attractive Scotch novel 
 that we have read for a long while 
 ... a novel to be reQomrnended." 
 Standard; 
 
 MONTRESOR (F. F.). 
 
 THE BURNING TORCH. 
 
 "This is not only the best novel 
 that its author has written and when 
 one remembers ' Into the Highways 
 and Hedges ' and ' At the Cross Road ' 
 one realises that this is giving it very 
 great praise indeed but it is also a 
 book which at once challenges com- 
 parison with the great works of 
 English fiction, with ' Vanity Fair,' 
 with ' Middlemarch,' or with 'The 
 Egoist. 1 "The Morning Post. 
 
 NEUMAN (B. Paul). 
 
 THE GREATNESS OF 
 JOSIAH PORLICK. 
 
 " This is a fine book." Times 
 
 THE SPOILS OF 
 VICTORY. 
 
 " Mr. Neuman has given bis 
 readers a singularly penetrating and 
 sympathetic study of the literary 
 temperament." Scotsman. 
 
 OLLIVANT (Alfred). 
 
 DANNY. 
 
 " The work is notable for the fine- 
 ness of its sympathy and the delicacy 
 of its natural art, as well as new in 
 its kind. ... A very real story, of 
 real humour, real pathos, and real 
 character. " Times. 
 
 REDCOAT CAPTAIN. 
 A Story of ' ' That Country. " 
 
 Readers of " Owd Bob " and 
 " Danny " will recognize that Mr. 
 Ollivant stands in a class by himself. 
 The originality of the subjects he 
 chooses and of his method of treating 
 them are all his own, and this book 
 is an excursion in a region which has 
 never been touched before. 
 
 ONIONS (Oliver). 
 
 THE ODD-JOB MAN. 
 "A novel of merit. 1 ' Times.
 
 Mr. Murray's 6/- Novels. 
 
 ONIONS (Oliver) continued. 
 
 TALES FROM A FAR 
 RIDING. 
 
 "Clearly conceived and power- 
 fully told . . . they are excellent in 
 their peculiar fashion, without a weak 
 spot among them." Guardian. 
 
 ADMIRAL EDDY. 
 Stories. 
 
 Short 
 
 PICKTHALL (Marmaduke). 
 
 THE MYOPES. 
 
 SUTCLIFFE (Halliwell). 
 
 A BENEDICK IN ARCADY 
 
 " Full of clever characterization, 
 of engaging and humorous talk, of 
 delightful native descriptions. . . . 
 A dainty, pleasing piece of work." 
 Daily Telegniph. 
 
 TOWARD THE DAWN. 
 
 TARKINGTON (Booth). 
 
 IN THE ARENA. 
 
 "Capital stories. . . . 'Hector' is 
 a truly magnificent character study. 
 ... It is, we think, one of the 
 truest, most ironic, and most telling 
 studies in modern American fiction." 
 Daily Graphic. 
 
 VACHELL (Horace A.). 
 
 BROTHERS. 
 
 " A novel that should not be 
 missed." Daily Telegraph. 
 
 " A book to love and to live in 
 awhile, and a book which will not 
 lightly be forgotten." Westminster 
 Gazette. 
 
 VACHELL (Horace A.) continued 
 
 THE FACE OF CLAY. 
 
 "A powerful and fascinating book, 
 with elements of tragedy as well as 
 pathos and humour. The characters 
 are real, and the elucidation of the 
 mystery is skilfully protracted to the 
 final scene." Daily Chronicle. 
 
 " A book in a thousand." 
 
 Standard. 
 
 THE HILL. 
 
 " The best book about schoolboys 
 since 'Tom Brown. 1 " Daily News. 
 
 "The work of a courageous writer 
 and a masterly." Vanity Fair. 
 
 HER SON. 
 
 " Distinction of style, strength and 
 sureness of touch, and perfect con- 
 secutiveness and cumulativeness of 
 interest mark Mr. Vachell's story." 
 Glasgow Herald. 
 
 WHARTON (Mrs.). 
 
 THE VALLEY OF 
 DECISION. 
 
 " A really brilliant work." 
 
 Spectator. 
 
 WILKINS (Mary E.). 
 
 THE WIND IN THE 
 ROSE BUSH. 
 
 " Wonderfully artistic and en- 
 thralling tales of the supernatural." 
 Vanity Fair. 
 
 LONDON: JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W
 
 A 000137902 3