Graham of Claverhouse Part 4

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 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 ladys.h.i.+p had, however, never met Claverhouse, and she prayed G.o.d 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 surprised 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 Claverhouse with Lord Ross craved the hospitality of the castle. It was natural that he should stay in the chief house of the neighborhood, 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 G.o.d's people and had pa.s.sed 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 helplessly 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 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 accommodate. I leave everything, Margaret, in your hands."

"_I_ invite John Graham of Claverhouse and his b.l.o.o.d.y crew, officers or men it matters not, to cross our threshold and break bread within our walls--I, a daughter of the house of Ca.s.sillis 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 G.o.d 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 honor before the Lord to shed my own blood 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 G.o.d 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 circ.u.mstances would not be convenient. Not quite, as I said, convenient. You are a brave woman, Margaret, and worthy of your honorable house, but Claverhouse is the king's officer, 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 remember 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 will 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 G.o.d 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 conversation with intense sympathy, and entering keenly into the contrast between the earl and Lady Cochrane, "I will not go with you and hide myself till Colonel 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 lords.h.i.+p" (who had crept over and was standing, as it were, under the s.h.i.+eld 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 everyone 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 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 pa.s.sed since Graham jested at the camp-fire with his comrades of the English Volunteers, on the night before the battle of Sineffe, but war, with many anxieties, had left only slight traces upon his face. He was no longer a soldier of 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 favorite 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, completed 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 ungloved, 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 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 gray-blue; he a born and convinced Cavalier, and she a born and professed Covenanter; he a kinsman of the great marquis whom the Covenanters 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 pa.s.s 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 district. It is strange that through some ordering of circ.u.mstances, to me very disappointing, I have never had the honor of offering to you an a.s.surance of my respect as a good subject of the king, and one whom the king has greatly honored. 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 humor sprang from his eyes and played across his face. And he smiled pleasantly to Lady Jean, to whom he was now introduced, 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 in 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 Claverhouse led Lady Jean to the table, where a meal was spread--"and everyone 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 favors you sometimes with his company."

Again the smile returned, but this time more searching and ironical.

"Pollock? Henry? That name sounds familiar. One of the leaders of 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 Claverhouse'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 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 have been Claverhouse's prisoner, "you will be in the company of a good man and a brave, who may not be of your way, but who, I will say in any presence, is a gentleman of Christ."

"Whatever else befall him, Pollock is fortunate in his advocate."

Claverhouse looked curiously at Jean. "G.o.d 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 honor. Pardon me if I think he has chosen the wrong side, and is doing vast 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." Claverhouse'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 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 honor 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 rumor 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 know Holland well, and that the climate is excellent for Scotsmen--more healthy sometimes, 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, 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 anyone says that my son had anything to do with that d.a.m.nable proceeding, which 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 labor 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 commander, his Highness of Orange, or anything else that would satisfy my poor curiosity. Burned them, have you? Strange. If I 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 permission, 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. During 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 and had found out all he wanted about Sir John, he never came a thousand miles within controversy. He was studiously courteous to the servants at the castle, who had regarded 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 Gallio, came up to hold family wors.h.i.+p in the castle. He attended the service himself, 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 popular and influential person, and he had many good tales for young Lord Cochrane, about hunting with the Duke of York, c.o.c.k-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 amus.e.m.e.nts 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 coa.r.s.eness of the day, and that, although he might be capable of severity and even cruelty, he was of more fastidious and chivalrous temper than anyone else she had met among the Covenanters except Henry Pollock. Unconsciously Jean began to compare the two men, and to weigh their types of character. There was nothing to choose between them in honor or in manliness, though the one was a minister of the Evangel and the other a colonel of his Majesty's Horse, but they were different. Pollock, with all his narrowness 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 G.o.d, 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 engaging 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 pa.s.sed 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 shamelessly and had remained cold as ice, understood at last the attraction of a maid for a man, and also realized 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 temper was not improved by the news, brought diligently to her by her waiting-maid, that her daughter was doing her utmost to make the persecutor's time pa.s.s 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 would, 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 fas.h.i.+on. Lady Cochrane had, however, learned that her daughter could not be browbeaten or captured by direct a.s.sault, but that, however thorough might be her own mind and uncompromising 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, la.s.sie, 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 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 people?

What has he for a G.o.dly maiden to hear?"

"Nothing worth mentioning, mayhap"--and Jean spoke with almost studied indifference--"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 G.o.d'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 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 wrongdoings. 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 G.o.dly 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 b.u.t.ter, and come back to tell you brave tales of the court ladies with a smile upon his bonnie face.

May G.o.d smite his beauty with wasting and destruction!"

"Mother," said Jean, flus.h.i.+ng and throwing back her head, "ye speak what ye believe 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 la.s.sie'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 fair-spoken and sweet-smiling cavalier did. He was hunting for the hidden servants of the Lord in the wild places of Ayrs.h.i.+re, 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. Claverhouse 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 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 earnestly 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 Claverhouse 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 unG.o.dly men, accustomed to blood, but after hearing that prayer their hearts were softened within them and they refused to fire. So Graham took a pistol from his saddle, and with his own hands slew the martyr. Ye are hearing, Jean, but there is more to follow. With 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 have always honored him, but I have never been so proud of him as this day. Ye will have to answer to man and G.o.d for this.' This is what he gave back to her: 'I am not afraid of man, and G.o.d 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 G.o.d. But his day is coming, and the judgment of the Lord will not tarry."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Ye will have to answer to man and G.o.d for this." Page 143.]

"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 insulted his wife after such a base manner--none but a churl would do that, and Claverhouse is not base-born."