Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, June 16, 1895, Page 19

CHAPTER XXII—CONCLUDED. My pleasant time In the cottage by the Garpel came all too soon to an end. It is Indeed, a rarc and heartsome place to bide on a summer’s day. There was the sound of the birds singing, the dash of the water into the pool bencath the Holy Linn, where the ministers had held the great baptising of balrns when the bonny burn water dropped of its own accord on their brows as their fathers held them up. There were the leaves rubbing against one another with a pleasant noise. These kept my heart stirring and content as long as I abode In the glen of the Garpel. There is in particular one little hill with a flat top, off which onc may spy both up and down the glen, yet be hidden under the leaves, Here 1 often frequented, though 8andy warned me that it would be my death. Yet I fiked it best of all places in. the day- time, and lay there prone on my belly for many hours together, chewing sorrel, clack- ing my heels together, and letting on that I was meditating. But, indeed, I never could look at water slipping away beneath me without lotting it bear my thoughts with it and set me to dreaming. And the Garpel is an especially pleasant burn to watch running from you. I have had the same feelings in church when the sermon ran rippleless and dull over my head. The only thing that annoyed me was that on the Sabbath days the Garpel was a great place for lovers to convene, and, above all, at one angle behind Jean Gordon's cot there 18 a bower planted with wild flowers, pleas- ant and retired, doubtless for them that are equipped with a lass, But as for me, I pleased myself by thinking that one day I should shape to bring Maisie Lennox there to see my hiding place, for she ever loved woods that rustle and waters that flow softly. Yet chiefly on covert with a book, but whether from motives of safety or envy it misliketh me to tell. T was awakened one morning by Jean at the side of my bed. She was fully dressed, as if to receive company, and her tall and straight figure wam imposing enough. “Rise!” she said. “Rise! There's a chiet here that wants ye to gang wi' him.” “A chief, Jean Gordon?" said I, in a slee kind of surprise. *‘What ken ye aboot him “0, I ken he's a honest lad,” she sald, “‘an’ he brings ye a message frac a gardener o' Balmaghie that ye are to accompany him there for greater safety.” “A lfkely story!" sald I, for I was nons well pleased to be awakened up out of my sleep at that time in the morning for a regi- ment of Balmaghie gardeners. “There Is safety in the neighborhood of the nest!" ‘There is s0,” “for sparrows. world for them not touch them, come near!” Nor do I think that this saying pleased mo over well, for I thought this a Gordon of Earlstoun of whatever rank was a city set on a hill that could not be hid. So Jean Gordon, the hermit of the Garpel glen, bade me an adieu, giving me none such an_old-fashioned salutation as well, which Tooked not like having forgotten all that she had lightlied to me. “Tak' tent to yoursel',” she sald. *“Ye are “a good 1ad and none so feckless as ye look. “There's fushion In ye, and ye micht even tak’ the e'e o' woman gin ye wad pad your legs.” And with this she went in, leaving me tn a quandary whether to throw a stone at her or run back and take her around the neck. 1 found the gardener of the great house of Balmaghie standing with his back toward me. He walked on a little before me without speaking. He was to the back view dressed but ordinarily, yet with some of the neatness of a gentleman’s servant. And this was'a great deal in a country where, ordinarily, the men wear little that is handsome, save and except the Sabbath cloak, which, if It do not, like charity, cover said Jean Gordon, dryly *Tis the safest place in the to build, for the eagle wil an’ lesser gleds dare not #ho took his chin in her hands and kissed him a multitude of sius, of a truth hides a multi- tude of old duds of clothes. At the foot of the burn, where it runs over some black and rugged rocks, the gardener stopped and turned round. 1 declare I never got a greater or more pleasant surprise in my life, save as it may be onc “‘Wat, dear Wat!" I cried, and ran to him. We clasped each other's hands, and stood a 1ttle off, gazing at one another. I had not known that I was 5o fond of him. But nothing draws the heart like coming through trial to- gether. At feast, 80 it is with men. 'Twixt women and men so many things draw the heart that it is well nigh impossible to sepa- Tate one thing from the other. “How came Jean Gordon to say you were the gardener at Balmaghie?" I asked of him when I was a little satisfied with looking at him. “Why, because I am the gardener at Bal- maghie—second gardener!” cnswered Wat, smiling in a sly way that he had when he meant to provoke and mystify me. Yet a way that I liked not ill, for he never used it but when he had within him a light and merry heart. But I knew by this time how to counter his stroke, which was to hold one's peace, as 1f one cared nothing about the matter. For Wat was just like a woman, or a fencer, whom it provokes more to measure his thrust and avoid it than a huudred times to parry bis attack. But for all I could not keep the Interest out of my eyes as we walked along. ‘You do mot want to hear,” said he, pro- woking me; for because of Maisie Leunnox that day I kept close to my | and my mother, he knew he had the better of m But T do, though!"” was all T could say. For Indeed the matter was a mystery to me, as well it might be. Wat Gordon of Lochinvar some time favorite of her grace, the duchess of Wellwood, now gardener to a latitudinarian and cavalier Galloway laird, that had been a wonder on a day of mira- cles. Wat continued to smile and smile. “Well, I will tell you,” he said. But tor a while did not, but only walked on smil- ing. At last he pursed his mouth and began to whistle. It a bar or two of the alr, “Kate Cairnie is My Darling.” Now 1 was not bright in the uptake about such things, for 1 had not till lately con- cerned me much with love and women's fa- vors, but it came across me in an instant. “Oh!" said 1. “Ah!" said Wat. And we looked at one another and nodded. “Kate of the black eyebrows!" I eaid, mus- ingly. “They are joined over her brow,” I went on, “and her ear comes straight down to her neck, without any rounded lobe. They are two weil considered signs!’ Wat Gordon stopped and eried out at me: “‘See here, William Gordon, what mean you by that? What if her eyebrows meet under her chin and her ear hang down like band strings? What s that to you?” “‘Happily nothing!" said I, for I was pa- tiently paying him out, as it is ever easy to | do with a spitfire like young Lochinvar. “Speak plain, Will,” he cried, “or, by the Lord, 1 will immediately run you through!" “With a spade,” sald 1, mocking. *Mind Wat, you are a laird’s gardener now.” But when I perceived that he was really angry T hastened to appease him. | “Joined eyebrows and lobeless ear have been held by learned folk to prefigure some | temper, Wat!” I said. |~ His brow cleared in an instant. “Pshaw!" he exclaimed, “I like the lass with a sparkle. No mim mis:ie for Wat Gor- don, but a lass that keeps you in doubt till opinions as to the succession of the Duke of THE OMAHA DAILY BEMISUNDAY, JUNE 16, 1895 pital ot George Heriot, late feweler to th king, a wheen loon lads who had an (Il will &t & mastiff tyke that lived In a barrel in the yard and keeped the outermost gate. They suspected this dog of treason agal the person of his majesty, and of treasonable York. And, Indeed, they had some ground for thelr suspicion, for the mastiff growled one day at the king's high commissioner when he passed that way, and bit a_plece out of the calf of orie of the Duke of York's servitors that wore his highness's livery, at the time when his grace was an indweller in Holyrood house." The eye of the tall, grave man changed A look of humorous severity came finto it. “‘Be cautious how you speak of diguities! he xald to Wat. “Well," sald Wat, “at any rate this evil- minded tyke held an office of trust within the meaning of the act, and these loon lads of Herlot’s ordained him duly to take the test or be turned out of his place of dignity and profit. ““So they formed a summary court, and the tyke was called and interrogated in order. The silly cur answered all thelr questions with si- lence, which was held as a signof a guilty conscience, and would bave been registered as a direct refusal, but that one of the loons, taking it upon him to be the tyke's advo- cate, argued that silence gave consent, and that' the test had not been presented to his client in the form most plausible and agree- able to his tender stomach. “The debate lasted long, but at last it was agreed that a printed copy of the test should be made into as little bulk as possible, smooted with butter, tallow, or whatever should be most tempting to his doggish ap- petite. This being done, tyke readily took it and made a shift by rowing it up and down his mouth to separate what was pleasant to his palate. When all seemed over, and the dog appearingly well tested, the loons saw somewhat, as it were, one plece after an- other drop out of the side of his mouth. Whersupon it was argued, as in the case of my Lord Argyle, that this was much worse than a refusal, because it was a separating of that which was pleasant from that which was {rksome, and that his, rightly inter preted, was no less than high treason. “But the tyke's advocate urged that his enemies had had the rowing up of the paper, and very likely they had put some crooked pin or other foreign object unpleasant to an honest tyke's palate within. So he asked for a fair trial before his peers for his client. first!” she sald, a%d'8o came forward and greeted m: ol xl “You are weloomeu® Balmaghie, Willlam Gordan,” she sald. *I' would you come as guest and not as ‘servitor; but some day you shall enter by sk Teont door. She glanced around‘with a questioning air. Wat was standing haif turned away, very haughty in his losk Kate McGhie turned-toward him. She was in truth a comely maid for one black of favor. “Now you may @me,” she said. He seemed as If he would refuse and turn away, but she looked fixedly at him, detying him with her eyes te do it, and after a moment’s battle of regards, he came slowly toward us, ‘ “Come nearer!" ously. He came up with his eyes kindling. 1 think that no less than kissing was in his mind, and that for a moment he thought that she might permit it But she drew herself away, and her look she commanded imperi- was disdainful and no doubt hard to be borne. “Are these manners from a servant? They that eat the meat .and sit below the salt must keep the distance.” Wat's countenance fell in a moment. I never saw one with so many ups and downs in such short space. The allures and whim- sies of this young she slip madé him alter- nately brighten and sulk, like an April day. “Kate,” he began to say, in the uncertain tone of a petitioner. “Mistress McGhie, if you please,” she, dropping him a courtly courtesy. “Have you forgotten quite?" Wat sald. “Ah," she said, “it is you who have for gotten. You were not the gardener then. I do not allow gardeners to kiss me--unless my hand, Would you like to have that, Heather Jock?" And she held ot the back of her hand. The silly fellow colored to his brow, and was for turning away with his head very much in the air. But she ran after him and took him by the shoulders. “No,” she cried. “Heather Jocks must not Xiss ladies, but there is no law against ladies Kissing Heather Jocks, an’ it likes them.” And she took his chin in her hand and kissed him fairly. Which went far to make me envious. Then sald “Then the court being constitute and the assize set, there fell out a great debate con- cerning this tyke dog. Some said that this he would have caught her with his arms, but she escaped out of them lightly as a bird. “Na, na, Lochinvar, she cried, merrily. | the' last moment whether your wooing will | speed you to a kiss or a bodkin—that's the | maid for me." “For me, T would e'en take the kiss,” 1 sald—*take it plain.” { " “Tush, slow coach,” he said; “your Earls- toun blood always did run like so much moss water." Now, T have borne the burden of the day on the moss of Ayr, and felt that I need not take his scornful word. “I have been where other than women's bodkins flashed; aye, ten against a hundred, and this was the only brand that wan through,” T said, putting my hand on my side. “There are small time for Kisses then. Ye may kiss your lass gin ye like aboot the woods of Balmaghie. As for me, 1 prefer to ride at Cameron’s flank, on day when the garments are rolled in blood. This I said, for my gall was working hot within me. 8o far from our first friendship had the clack of foolish tongues brought us ‘Deed, we were but sHly boys that needed skelping, but far the worst. And so perhaps would T have preferred answered he gently. Aye? he would have preferred it? my answer, not over kindly said, I fear. “Aye,” said he again, “I suppose it is too late in the day for Wat Gordon of Lochinvar to have to prove his courage to his cousin William of Earlstoun. So then take it from me _that but for my oath sworn to the king, it had given more pleasure to me to ride with you in the charge at Airsmoss than to be bridegroom to any maid in the world!” And at the name of the king he lifted his old worn ccuntryman’s bonnet as nobly and loyally as though it had been the plumed | hat, whose feather had so proudly swept the ground that night when he defled heaven and earth to keep him from his tryst beyond the Netherbow. At the word him. “Forgive me, taken his arm, moment. “Pray remember,” he said grandly, “that though I am a jerkined man and handle the mattock in another man's kail yaird; aye, though I be put to the horn and condemned unheard as a traitor, I am a true king's man. Vive le Roi!"” “Well,” replied T, “and much good may it do you. At any rate, there is no need to make such a work about it. After all, gin ye be at the horn, ye gied some o' Duke Wellwood's lads most unmerciful jags aneath the ribs? While thus we snarled and fought between ourselves, the very strife of our tongues made the legs go faster, and we came southward by the two lochs, Ken and Grenoch, crossing over the Black Water, and leaving the Duchrae behind. This made me very wae to mind the days that we had there with that brave company which would meet no more on the earth together. At the head of the high matural wood that fringes about all the mansion house of Bal- maghie, we took down through the copses till me’came to the green policies that ring in the great house of the McGhies. As we went linking down the green pleasaunce there met us one who came toward us with his hands behind his back, stooping a little trom the shouiders down. He wore a rich dress of dark stuff a good deal worn, and that of a fashion one or two removes from the present. But rather as it seemed from habit and preference than need—like one that deigns not to go too fine. “Where away, Heather Jock?’ he cried to as we went, and turned toward us. ‘Whom have we here?” he asked, so soon as he saw me. “A cousin of mine from the hill country, laird,” sald Wat, with the gruff courtesy of the gardener. ““Hoot, hoot—another! Has he taken the Test?" “He cannot read it, even,” said Wat, stand- ing_sheepishly beforé him. “That is all the better,” said the tall, gray man, shaking his head gently and a little r was I stretched out my hand to Wat,” I sald, and womld have but he moved it away for a This will never do. had read it, Heather Jock, I might never have taken it; i could not take the risks “‘He will e’'en take it the way that the Her- fot’s hospital dog took it,” sald Wat, again smiling, “with a little butter and liberty to spit it out.” “How now, Heather Jock; thou art a great fellow. Where didst thou get all the stories of the city? The whaups do not tell them about the Glenkins." “Why, an’ it please your Honor, T was half & year in the town with the Lady Gordon, answered Wat, readily enough, making him an awkward bow. “Tell me the story, rascal,” said the tall man, whom I now knew for Roger McGhie of Halmaghie. “I love a story, so that it be not too -often told.” Now I wondered to hear Wat Gordon of Lochinvar take the word “‘rascal” so meekly, standing there on the road. It was very far from being his wont However, he began obediently to tell the story which Roger McGhle asked of him. A Kate of the Black Eyebrows makes many a mighty difference to a man's stomach. “The story was only a bairn's ploy that I heard tell of when I was In town with my lady,” he sald. *“Nothing worth your Honor's attention.” “Let me be the judge of that,” sald the other. “Well, then, laird, there wa: in the “hos- proachfully. It is easier gotten over that | ever molested; also that Claverhouse fre- | way. quented the house greatly, often riding from | “‘Have you not read it?" asked Wat, glanc- [ Dumfries for a single night to have the ing up at him curiously as he stood and | pleasure of his society. He never quartered swung his eane. his men there, but rode over alone, or with | “Faith, no,"” he answered quickly; “if I|but one attendant, in the forenights, to get | | gree: THEY SAT AND GOSSIPED TOGETHER. chaming a1 1 chirking of the paper was very Il done of him, and that he was over mala- pert, and took too much upon him, for his office, being a lowly one, it was no business of his to do other than bolt the test at ouce. “But his advocate urged that he do his best, and that if one part of the oath fell to hindering the other and fighting in his hass it was not his fault, but the fault of them that framed it. Also, that if it had not hindered itself in going down, he would have taken it gladly and willingly, as he had taken down many other untoothsome morsels before to the knowledge of the court—as the leg of one of the masters In the hospital, who was known to be exceedingly unsavory in his person. “But all this did not save the poor tyke, for his action in mawling and beslavering his majesty's printing and paper was held to be, at least, interpretive treason, and so he was ordered to close prison until such a time as the court shall call him forth to be hanged like a dog. Which was pronounced for doom.’ Roger McGhie laughed with a gentl inward laughter, and tapped Wat with his cane. “Thou art, indeed, a merry wag, and speak _over well for a gardener,” he said; “but I know not If John Graham would not put a charge into thee gin he heard thy way of talking. But go on. Tell me what befell the poor tyke “None so evil was his fate,”” sald Wat, “for in the midst of the great debate that the surprising verdict ralsed the tyke drew on a fox's skin, laid hold of the tail of another tyke, and so passed unobserved out of the prison. At which many were glad, for, said they, he was a good tyke that would not sup kail with the pope nor the deil, and 80 no need of his long spoon. And others said that it was a pity to hang so logical a tyke, for that he was no Aberdeen man that was ready to cant and recant again. Roger McGhie laughed aloud and knocked his cane on the ground, for he understood the meaning of all these things, being versed in parties and politics, which I never was, “It is mighty merry wit,” he said, “and theso colleginers are merry blades. I wonder what John Graham will say to this; but go to the bothies of the bachelor foresters and get that which may comfort the inward parts of your cousin from the hills, who, from the hang of his head, seems not 5o ready of tongue as thou.”” For, indeed, I had been most dis- creetly silent. So the tall, gray-bearded gentleman went | away from us, tapping gently with his cane on the ground, and often stopping to look at some puddock or grasshopper on the roadside. Then Wat told me that, because of his quaint wit and great loyalty, Roger McGhie | of Balmaghie was in high favor with the rul- ing party, and that none on his estates were away from roystering Lidderdale of the Isle, red, roaring Baldoon, drink'ng Windram and the rest of the boon companions. “He will come,” sald Wat, “with a proud, | set face, stern and dark as Lucifer's, in the evening, and in the morning ride away with 80 fresh a countenance and so pleasing an expression that one might think him an un- fallen spirit. For, as he says, Roger Mc- | Ghie does his heart good like medicine." Betimes we came to a little row of white | cottages deep im~the wood, with only a little clearing at the door, and the trees passing great branches over the roof. “That is as muckle as is good for you"—she looked at him with the light of attraction in her eyes—“afore folk,” she added, with a glance at him that I could not fathom. Whereat I saw for the first time all thaf was between them. So with no more sail she fled fleet foot down the path toward the great house, which we could see, gray and massive, at the end of the avenue of heeches. “There’s a lass by yon burnside that wili do as muckle for you; but dinna bide to speer her leave,” she cried to me over her shou'der. a word which it was hard to understan), | T asked Wat, who stood staring after her dead cats, old hosen and shoes, and a bit of | it @ kind of adoration, what ste mizht mean. He gazed at me as if he did not see what thing was making the noise like talking. 1 am sure that for the lime he knew me not from John Knox. What did she mean?"" I asked him. fean!” said he, “‘mean!" speaking vaguely as one in a swither. ““You are heedy and moldered with getting nothing but a kis from a lass,” sald I. “Did sho Kkiss you?' criel he, looking truculently at me. “Nay!" said I bluntly, for the thing was not in my thought “Then you ken nothin better hold your wheesh He stobd so long thinking, and sometimes glve his thigh a little slap like one that has remembered something pleasant which he hal forgotten, that I was near coming away in disgust and leaving the fool, when I remem- bered that I knew not where to go. In a while he came to himself somewhat, and I told him what Kate McGhie had said to me over her shoulder. “Did Kate say that?” he sald, “She could surely not have said that and I not hear her.” “Out, you fool,” I sald, for so I spoke to him, being my cousin and playmate. “You had other matter to think of. Say it she aia.” He repeated the words that I told him, and the sound of them seemed to be in danger of throwing him into another rhapsody. But at last he said, suddenly, “O, I ken what she means —' he drew a long breath “I ruppose we had better go down to the waterside; she will not come out again if we wait all night.” And he went some way along the avenue and looked at one heavy-browed window of the old house which seemed to be winking at us. It is a strange thing how love affects dif- ferent people. You never can tell how it will be. I could not have believed that the presence of a forward lass with black eye- brows could have ymade a moonstruck fool of Wildcat Wat of Lochinvar. He stood still and looked till my patience was ended. . “Come on, man,’ T cried, “I declare you are not Heather Jo¢k, as she called you, but Heather Jackass!"” At another time, he would have knocked my head off, but nol it affected him no more than a sermon. And this I took to be the worst sign of all. “Well, come on, then,” he sald, “you are surely in a great sweat tonght.” And we took our way down toward the waterside, having wasted more than an hour We had not advanged far down the pillared avenue of beech trees, whea suddenly in a moment we came in sight of Maisie Lennox. She was coming slowly toward us along one of the forest roads. At the same time I saw my mother walking away from me down a path which led toward the side of the Dee water, She had het back toward us and was going with her head down. I ran to meet Maisie Lennox, but ere I reached her she said quietly to me, “Have you not seen your mother?" “Aye," answered I. “‘She has gone down the road to the waterside.” about it. You had Hero we washed ourselves, and Wat set to shave me and cut my bair close, in order | that, It necessary, I might wear a wig. Then | we went into the gardens, where we found | the chief gardener of Balmaghie, whose | name was Samuel Irving. Samuel was a grave man with a very long upper lip, which gave him a sour and discon- | tented expression, but secretly he was a great favorer of the hill folks. Also he was very upright and well doing in the matters of seeds and fruits and perquisites, and greatly in favor with his master, Mr. Roger Gordon. | 8o we set out retreshed, and were going by a path through the woods when, suddenly, who should come upon us at a turn bul Kate McGhie. Wat ran to her to take her “Then let no greeting come before your mother's,” she said, looking very ill pleased at mo when I ran forward (o take her hand. So with a flea in my ear I turned me about and went off, somewhat shamed, to find my mother. When I got back to the path on which I had seen her, I left Wat far behind, and ran after her, calling loudly to her. At the sound of my voice she turned and held up her hands. “Willie, boy,” she eried. And in a moment she had me In her arn brooning over me and meking much of me. She told me, also, when she had time to look at me, that I was much better than when 1 had lain in the well house at Earls hands, bat she gave him the go-by with the single favor of & saucy glance. ‘‘Strangers toun. S “And you came first to see your old mother,” she sald, a word which made me ashamed. So I had no answer to make, though, neverless, 1 took the credit of the action as well by silence as by speech. Then Maisie Lennox came through the wood, and, demeaning herself, right soberly sho held out her hand. “Did you pot see Willlam before?”’ asked my mother, looking from one to the other of us. “Only at a distance, on his way to you," sald Maisie, speaking in her demure way. It was in the little holding of Boateroft, by the side of the water of Dee, and beside the water meadows that gird stream, that we found my mother, Maisie Lennox and little Margaret Wilson settled. Their position was not one to be despised. They were safe for the time being upon the property of Roger McGhie. Every day the old man passed their loaning end, and, though he knew that by rights only a herd should live there, yet he made no complaint nor asked any question for consclence sake when he saw my mother and Maisie Lennox or little Margaret of Glenvernock moving about. In the evening it fell to me to make my first endeavors at waiting at table, for though women were safe enough in anywhere on the estate, it was not judged to be secure for me excepl within the house itself. So my mother gave me a great many cau- tions about how I was to demean myself, and how to be silent and mannerly when I handed the dishes As Wat and I went toward the great house in the early gloaming we became aware of a single horseman riding toward us and gaining on us from behind. At the sound of the trampling of his horse Wat dived at once over the truf dyke and vanished. “Blde you!" he said. “‘He'll no ken you!" A slender-like figure in a great gray cloak and a plain hat came slowly riding along- side of me in an attituze of the deepest thought 1 knew at a glance that it was John Gra- ham of Claverhouse, whom all the land knew as the persecutor. “Are you one of Baimaghie's servants?" he asked. I took oft my bonnet, showing as I did so my shaven poll, and answered him that 1 was. No other word he uttered, though he eyed me pretty closely and uncomfortably, as if he had a thought that he had seen me be fore somewhere, but the shaven head and the absence of hair on my face was a com- plete disguise. For, Indeed, though Malisie Lennox makes little of it, the fact is that I had at the time quite a strong crop of hair both on my chin and upper lip. Clayerhouse waved me behind him with his graceful and haughty gesture, which they say he constantly used, even to the secretary in council when he was hot with him in the matter of the house and lands of Dudhope. Meekly I trudged behind the great com- mander of horse, and looked with much curi- osity and some awe upon both him and on his famous horse Sathanas, which was sup- posed by the more ignorant of the peasantry to be the foul flend in proper person. So we came to the house, and the lights were just beginning to shine, for Alisoun Begbie, the maid of the table, was just about to light the candles, At the doorway the master of the house met his guest, hav- ing been drawn from his library by the clat- tering feet of the charger on the pavement of the yard. “Ah, John,” he sald, “this is right gra- clous of you, in the midst of your fighting and riding, to come over to see an old hulk like me."” And he reached him a hand to the saddle, which Claverhouse took without a word, but I saw a look of liking in his eyes as I passed round by the further door into the kitchen. Here I was roughly handled by the cook, who, of course, had not been informed of my personality, because of the length of her tongue and the considerable agility thereof But Alisoun Begbie, that rwas waiting mald, rescusd me, and In pity took me under her protection, though with no suspicion of my quality, but only from a maidish and natygal liking for a young and unmarried man. She offered kindly to show me all my duties, and, indeed, I had been in a sorry pass that night without her debt. So that when It came to the hour of sup- per it was with some grace that 1 was enabled to wait at table, and take my part in the management of dishes therefore. All- soun kept me mostly in the back part of her serving pantry and gave me only the dishes which were easy to be served, looking kindly on me with her eyes all the while, and touch ing of my hand when occasion served, which 1 thought it was not polite to refuse. For all this I was greatly thankful, for I had very small desire to have upon me the cold blue eyes of John Graham, to whom, in spite of my crop head and servant man's attire, there might come a memory of the side of green Garryhorn and the interrupted fight which Wat of Lochinvar, my cousin, had fought with Peter Inglis. The two great gentlemen sat and supped thelr kail, in which a pullet had been boiled, with remarkablo relish, and it was not till the wine had been uncorked and set at thelr elbows that they began to have much converse, They sat and gossiped together very pleas- antly, like men that are easing their hearts and loosening their belts over trencher and stowp after a hard day. It was John Graham who spoke first. “Have you heard,” he said, “the excellent Jest concerning Anne Keith, what she died With these vaguing blasties up at Methven, when the laird was absent in London?" “Nay,” replied Roger Gordon, “that have I not. I am in the way at Balmaghie to hear no misdeeds but those of John Graham and his horse Sathanas, that is now flling his kyte in my stable, as his master is doing in hal “Well," said Claverhouse, “we shall have to give Anne the justicular power and send her lord to the spence and the store cham ber. She shall have the jack and the riding breeks, and he the keys of the small ale cask. So it were better for his majesty’s service.” “But I thought him a good loyal man,” said Roger McGhie. “'On one that goes as easy as an old shoe, like yourself, Roger. Not 80, my lady. Heard ye what Annie did? The conventiclers came to set up a preaching in a tent on the laird's ground, and they told it to Anne. Where- upon she rose and donned her lord's buft coat and slung his gasket hilt at her pretty side and %0 to the woodside rode she. There were with her but Methven's young brother, a lad like a fathom of pump water, yet he drew sword and bent pistol like a brave one. I had not thought that there was so much in David.” Roger McGhie sipped at his wine and nodded, drawing up one eyebrow and down the other, as his habit was when he was amused, which, indeed, was often, for he was merry within him much more often than he told any. “Who but Anne was the pretty fighter,” Clavers went on lightly, “with a horseman’s plece on her lett arm, and a drawn tuck in her right hand? Also was she not the fine general, for she kept the enemy's forces sindry, marching her servants to and fro, all armed to the teeth botween them, and threatening the tent in which was the preacher to the rabble. She cried to them that if they did not leave the parish of Methven speedily it would be a bloody day for them, but that If they did not come to the kirk decently and hear the curate, she would ware her life upon teaching them how to worship God properly, for that they were an ignorant, wicked pack! A perlicue which pleased them but little, and some rode off that they might not be known, and some dourly remained, but were impotent for evil.” “I never knew that Anne Keith was a spirity lass. I would all spirity lasses were as sound in the faith she." This was the word of Roger McGhie, tered like a meditation. 1 felt sure thought of his daughter Kate “Then,” continued John Graham, “Anne took her warlike folk to the kirk, and, lo! the poor curate was so wandered and feared that he could give no discourse that day, but only stood and bleated like a calf, till the Lady Anne said, 'Sir, if you can neither fight nor preach, ye had better go back to the Hiclands, for, by the Lord, I can fight and preach, too." “As they do say the Laird of Methven right_well knoweth,” said Roger McGhie, in the dry and covert way In which he said many things. “Ah,” said Claverhouse, and smiled a little as it he also had his own thoughts. But he ut- he went on So on the very next day Anne had a court in the hall, and all the old canting wives of the parish were there. She set the Test to all their throats, and caused them to forswear conventicling at the peril of their lives—all but one old beldame that wonld in nowise give way, or be answerable for her children, who were known rebels, “Then Anne took from her her apron, that was a fine braw one with pockets, and said to her: ‘This I shall keep till you have paid your son's fines, If ye cannot keep your | tike the broad | 19 other brats out of the dairt, keep this one clean for you! “Ha, well sald, Anne!" cried Roger Mo- Ghle, clapping the table. For brat is but the Scots word for apron, and that conceity say- Ing was like that very spirited lady, Anne Kelth, “But with yourselt how goes the Laird of Balmaghie Claverhouse turned a silver spoon over, and looked at the pollsh on it thoughtfully: “II, i, 1 fear. I ride night and day through all the country of Galloway, and 1t Is 0 much paddling in the mud. That which you clear out before you closes up be- hind. ‘At headquarters there is the duke of Hamilton, who desires no better than to load me to the chancellor. T have many evemies.” “But also many friends,” said Balmaghie, “Not so true as thou art, Roger,” sald verhouse, stretching out a white hand which his friend took for a moment, “And I am plagued on the one hand by the council to make folk to keep in the kirk, and on the other with weary-minded preachers like Andrew Symson, who writes me to say that now muckle Davie Dunbar of Baldoon hath broken his neck, he has no congregation at all.” He threw a bit of paper across the table to Balmaghie, “Read ye that," he said. The laird looked at it all over, and then began to smil “This Is indee t least I shall 1t asked Andrew Symson, doddering fool body that he Is—aye, scribing verses, and sic verse. Heaven forfend us!" And he began to read He was no schismatick. He ne' Himselt feom the house of God Some two or three, came constantly to pray For such as had withdrawn themselves away Nor did he come by I being in the kirk there, Had he ‘withdrawn, three, Being thus discoura, So that my muse He, he alone was v withdrew He with a fit w oul day or fair, 1" J to” see him sure 'tis like these two or ed, had deserted mo; ‘kainst Prisclan avers, my_parishioners! “Aye,” said Balmaghie, “I warrant puir folk were na muckle the better Baldoon's supplications.” Then Claverhouse, receiving back the paper, looked up with great alertness, “But I have chanced in that country to run on a nest of the fanatics.” Ho looked cautiously about, and I hal no more than time to step back into the little pantry where Alisoun Begble already was washing the dishes. She put her arm about me to keep me within, and before she let me g0 she kissed me, which I suffered, for, being a lass from Borgue, she was not uncomely, though, like all shore lasses, a little forward John' Graham assurel himselt that none of the o us servants were in the room, and then he said:, “I have Informations from one Birsay Smith, a cobbler, by which I have my hand as good as upon the throats of that arch- fanatic, Anthony Lennox of the Duchrae, and also upon Sandy Gordon of Earlstoun, Ma- clellan of Barscobe, and some others. Tt will be a great taking, for there is a long price on every head of them." “Think you, John,” said Dalmaghie, “that you will add Earlstoun and Barscobe to your new lands of Freueh?” sald Clavers, “that is past hoping. They will give them to their English colonels, though, at my own request, I had the promise from the council of the estates of any that 1 should find cause of forfelture agalnst, a thing which is only my due. But, as by this time you may know, a plain soldier hath no chance among the wiles of the courtiers.” “I question, John, if thou hadst all Gallo- way and Nidsdale to boot, thou wouldst be happy, even with the fafrest maid thereim for one week. Thou wouldst be longing to have Sathanas out, saddled and bridled, and be oft to the whig hunting with a ‘Ho! tally-h For that is thy way, John!" Claverhouse laughed a little stern laugh like a man that laughs at himself, yet is proud of what he hears. “It {s true,” he said. “There s no hunting like this hunting of men which the king's servico sees in these days. It I3 worth living to keep the crown of the moorland with one’s company of dragoons, like a_man hefting lambs on a sheep farm, and know that no den, no knowe, no moss, no hill, has been left unsearched for the king's :gbels.” “And how speeds the wooing, John?" I heard Balmaghie say after a little pause and the opening of another bottle. 1 thought it no shame to listen, for the lives of all that were dear to me, 8 well as my own, were in this man's power; and also I knew very well that Kate McGhie had put me in this place that T might gain good intelligence of the Intentions of the great captain of the man hunters. Clavers sat a while silent. He looked at his fine white hand and fingered the lace ruffie upon his sleeve. “It was of that malnly that I came to speak to you, Roger. Truth to tell, it does not speed to my mind.” “Hath the falr Jean proved unkind?" said Roger McGhle, looking over at Claverhouse, with a quiet smlle in his eye. John Graham leaned back In his ehalr with an amused look, and threw back his cluster- ing love locks. “No,” he said; “there is, fear of that with any woman “What, then is the difficulty—her mother?” “Aye,” sald Claverhouse, ‘that Is more like it. Yet, though the Lady Dundonald drills me and fiytes me and preaches to me, I care not so much. For, like the hardships of life, that will come to an end. Nevertheless, at times I am tempted to take the lady at my saddle bow and ride out from Paisley to return no more.” i “You will not do that, John," said Bal- maghie quictly, with a certain light of irony in his eye. Clayerhouse looked up quickly. “How 0, Balmaghie?”" and I saw through my little slant wicket the pride grow in his eye. *“The 40,000 marks, John." Claverhouse struck his hand on the table, “Thank you—" he sald, coldly, aad ilien for a moment was silent. “There is no man that dare say that to me but vourse f, Roger McGhie.” “No,” said the Laird of Balmaghle, sip- ping at his canary, “and there is why you rode over to see ‘me tonight. John—a silly old man in a dull house, instead of guzzling at Kirkeudbright with Winram and the bur gesses and bailles thereof. You are a truth telling man, and yet hear little of it, save at the house of Balmaghie." Claverhouse still said nothing, but stared at the table from which the cloth had been removed, The elder man reached over and put hand on the sleeve of the youuger. “Why, John,” he said softly, ‘‘pluck up thy heart and do nothing hastily—as I know I think, little his thou wilt not. Forty thousand marks is not to be desplse It will help thee mightlly with Freuch and Dudhope. It is wroth having thy ears soundly dauded for persecutor, by a covenanting mother-in-law But that is not the worst of it, Roger sald Claverhouse, who had gotten over his pique; “my enemies lay it agalnst me to York ‘and that King that I frequent a sus- pected and disloyal house. They will put me down as they put down Aberdeen—'" At this moment I felt a hand upon my arm. It was Kate McGhle, She drew me out of the closet where Alisoun had be stowed me, intending, as she intimated, to come in beside me. She took me by the hand and we passed out into the cool ni Wat_met us by the outer gate. He w standing in the shadow. There was no need of me to tell Kate what T had heard Claver house reveal of his intentions regarding An- ton Lennox and my brother Sandy. To which there was added a great uncertainty lest Birsuy had been able to add to his other. Informations an account of my moth- er's hiding place and our own disguises And even though we had mot already done 0, there was no saying how soon thal might come about As we stood conferring a moment together there was one ran hastily from the housc to the stables, carrying a lantern. Then in a litile, out of the stable door came clattering the great war horse of the commander of dragoons. Willlam McCutcheon, the serving man and chief groom of the stables, led him with a tain awe, as It he might actually be leading the enemy of mankind. He had not heen at tha door a minute when Claverhouse eame out and went down the steps, drawing on his ridng gauntlets as he came. Roger McGhie walked behind him with burning candles in a great silver triple candlestick. He held it aloft in his hand while the ecavaller mounted with a free, easy swing into the saddle, and gather- ng the reins in his hand, turned to bid his host ad “Be canny with the next whig ye catch, for the sake of your ain bonny whiggle, Jean Cochrane!" cried Roger Mc- Glle of Balmaghle, holding the cresset high above his head. “Dell a fear!" waving bis hand. aughed Clavers, gayly "Tis not in the power ® of any other folly to alter my loys Pahaw,” #ald the laird; “then, John, yo ken nothing about the matier.” But Claverhouse was already clattorin across the cobblestones of the yard. We drew back into the deep shadow of the bushes and he passed us, a noble fAigure of & man sitting slenderly erect on his great black horse, Sathanas, and so riding out Inte the night iike a prince of darkness going froth to war, ‘That night, down In the little holding of Watarside upon the broad meadows of the Dee, we held a council. My mother wi for going to iook after her son Sandy. Dut I gently dissuaded her, telling her that Sandy was far safer loft to his own resources, than with her safety also to pros vide for. “1 daresay,” said ehe; “but have you thought how I am liko to sleep when you are all away, and when in every foot that comes by the door I hear the messenger that comes to tell me of my sons in their wind- ing sheets."” But, after all, we did persuade her to bide on at the Boatcroft, where little Mar« garet of Glenvernock was to stay with her. As for the rest of us, wo had Information as to the hiding places of Anton Lennox and the rest of the wanderers. The malds were set to go--Malsle Lennox to sce her father, and Kate McGhie because Maisie Lennox was golng. But after a long controversy we prevailed on them to_abido at home and wait for our return. Yet It came to me afterward that I saw a look pass between them which I had seen before, when it s in the heart of the women folk to play some trick upon the duller wits of men. Tt is as though they “What gulls these men be! So that night I elept with Wat in the gardener's hut, and early in the morning we went down to the great house to bid the maids goodby. But we found only Ali- soun Begble. The nest was empty, and the birds flown. Roger McGhie was walking up and down the beech avenue of tho old house in deep thought. He had his hands behind his back, and sometimes the corners of his mouth seemed to smile through his gloom with all pleasantry. Wat and I kept out of his sight, and I could not help wondering how much, after all, he understood of our ongolngs. ~More than any of us thought at that time, T warrant, for it was the man's humor to know much and say little. Alisoun Begble, who seemed not unwilling that we should stop and converse with her, told us that after Clavers had departed, Mis- tress Kate had gone in to her father to tell I;In\ that she was going away for a space of day: “Ye are not to rise before your ordinary time in the morning, father,” ‘she said: *T shall be gone by the dawn.'” ery well, Kate," he replied, continulng to draw off his coat and prepare for bed; “I shall sell the Boreland to pay the fine.'* And this was all he said; and, having kissed his daughter good night, calmly and pleasantly, as was his wont, he set a silken sk‘nu cap on his close-cropped crown and fell asleep. Truly a remarkable Ghie of Balmaghie. (To Be Continued.) —— ) THE DOCTOR'S COLUMN. man was Roger Moe D. L. 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