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 "LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 U N IVE.R3ITY 
 or ILLINOIS
 
 IN LOVE AND WAR
 
 " There was a May, and a weel-fav'd May, 
 Lived high up in yon glen ; 
 Her name was Katherine Janfarie, 
 She was courted by mony men." 
 
 Tlie Ballad of Katherine Janfarie.
 
 IN LOYE AND WAE. 
 
 BT 
 
 CHARLES GIBBON, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " IN HONOUR BOUND," " ROBIN GRAY," 
 "WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY?" "FOR LACK OF GOLD," ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 RICHAED BENTLEY AND SON, 
 
 NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1877. 
 
 {All rights reserved.)
 
 iV 
 
 QZ2> 
 
 x/.l 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 ^ 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 
 X 
 
 I. 
 
 The Hot Trod ... 
 
 
 II. 
 
 Foreshadows ... 
 
 
 III. 
 
 The Broken Sword 
 
 
 IV. 
 
 The Disguise ... 
 
 
 V. 
 
 The Cochrane Places 
 
 
 VI. 
 
 The Eiot 
 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Priory of Kells 
 
 V 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The Summons 
 
 n 
 
 IX. 
 
 At Bay ... 
 
 >0 
 
 > 
 
 X. 
 
 The Abbot's Court 
 
 XI. 
 
 Between Two Fires 
 
 XII. 
 
 Snares 
 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Through the Wood 
 
 XIV. 
 
 In Chase 
 
 
 XV. 
 
 The Druids' Circle 
 
 <r 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 1 
 
 17 
 
 30 
 
 '40 
 
 65 
 
 83 
 
 104 
 
 123 
 
 137 
 
 164 
 
 185 
 
 206 
 
 230 
 
 258 
 
 279
 
 IN LOVE AND WAE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I?- 
 
 THE HOT TROD. 
 
 " He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand. 
 And by the grass-green sleeve. 
 He's mounted her high behind himsel', 
 At her kinsmen spear'd na leave." 
 
 Katherine Janfarie. 
 
 RING out the hounds, Nicol," 
 shouted Sir Hugh Janfarie, the 
 Knight of Johnstone Tower, 
 to his second son ; and then to one of his 
 men : " You fetch me a burning sod. It 
 shall be a Hot Trod, and by the Sacred 
 
 1
 
 A IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 Mother a hotter trod than has been 
 known on the Border this while." 
 
 He mounted his horse and took his place 
 at the head of his men ; a leash of hounds 
 was brought from the kennel, and the party 
 started at a round pace. 
 
 Nicol rode in advance, carrying a burn- 
 ing turf on the point of a spear, to denote 
 to all men that they had declared hue and 
 cry against a marauder, and that they were 
 in hot pursuit. The fiery symbol of their 
 purpose, according to the law of the 
 Marches, protected them from interruption 
 so long as they molested none save the 
 enemy they pursued. The same law doomed 
 to death any who might attempt to bar the 
 way of those who, with proper reason, 
 were following the track of an offender. 
 
 Katherine Janfarie, Sir Hugh's only 
 daughter, and Sir Bertrand Gordon, the 
 Laird of Lamington, were the offenders, 
 and the objects of this fierce pursuit.
 
 THE HOT TROD. 3 
 
 Sir Hugh had that day forced his 
 daughter into marriage with Sir Robert 
 Cochrane, the chief favourite of the king, 
 James III. ; Katherine had wept, implored, 
 defied — refused even in presence of the 
 priest to accept the man chosen by her 
 parents as her husband — but all without 
 avail. The ceremony proceeded, and she 
 was declared to be duly wedded to 
 Cochrane. Kinsmen and retainers were 
 hospitably entertained ; bonfires were 
 prepared, and sports went forward just 
 as if it had been one of the happiest 
 matches ever known on the Border. 
 
 A marauding expedition of Sir Hugh 
 and his two sons — Eichard, the master of 
 Johnstone, and Nicol — had drawn down 
 upon them the wrath of the Duke of 
 Albany, then Lord Warden of the Marches. 
 He had seized the greater part of their 
 holdings, threatened to lay waste their
 
 4 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 home, and to drive them from the land, 
 root and branch. As Albany was then in 
 high favour with the English Court, the 
 Janfaries could not hope for any succour 
 from that quarter,. Under ordinary cir- 
 cumstances they might have calculated 
 upon such succour. Their sole hope of 
 rescue centred in King James, and he 
 could only be reached successfully through 
 his favourite, Cochrane. Him Sir Hugh 
 sought, knowing that he had no kindly 
 regard for the king's brother, Albany; and 
 whatever might have been the nature of 
 their interview, the result was that Coch- 
 rane pledged himself to restore the lands 
 of Sir Hugh, and to protect him from 
 Albany's vengeance. He fulfilled his 
 pledge to the letter. 
 
 That was the service he had rendered 
 the family, and the price was the hand of 
 Katherine Janfarie.
 
 THE HOT TROD. 5 
 
 To those who knew Cochrane, the price 
 seemed a poor one for so much service; 
 but none doubted that he had good reasons 
 for making such a bargain, and for insisting 
 upon its fulfilment in despite of the ob- 
 jections the lady raised. He had reasons, 
 and potent ones. His influence over the 
 king seemed to increase daily ; but, in 
 proportion, the hate with which he was 
 regarded by the noblemen whose places he 
 usurped at Court, and by the people whose 
 rights he trampled upon, also increased. 
 On this account he sought alliance with 
 some family, at whose command a suffi- 
 ciently considerable force could be brought 
 into the field to serve in a degree as a 
 protection against his enemies. There 
 were other reasons for his present course, 
 but they were known only to himself; 
 and he kept his own counsel. 
 
 The rejoicings were at their height,
 
 6 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 •when Sir Bertrand Grordon made his way 
 secretly into the tower. The unhappy 
 bride, who, with despairing hope, had 
 looked for his coming, met her lover. 
 They passed unseen to the court ; he lifted 
 her up beside him on his horse. Falcon, 
 and before a hand could be raised to 
 stay them, they were through the gateway 
 and beyond reach. 
 
 Then ensued wild confusion, exclama- 
 tions of rage, and threats of vengeance. 
 The bridegroom and the elder brother 
 Eichard were the first mounted and in 
 pursuit. But it was not long before Sir 
 Hugh had raised the symbol of the hot- 
 trod, and, with fifty picked men, his 
 kinsmen, Musgrave and Fenwick, by his 
 side, and sure-scented hounds to guide 
 them, followed in the track of the lovers. 
 
 The darkening gloaming favoured the 
 fugitives as they were borne along by the
 
 THE HOT TROD. 7 
 
 swift-footed horse. Falcon proved himself 
 worthy of his name, and every encouraging 
 sound of his master's voice seemed to in- 
 spire him with new strength ; he seemed 
 to have almost a human sense of the 
 perilous venture in which he played so 
 prominent a part. 
 
 The horse dashed through the shadows 
 which seemed like giant forms reaching 
 towards him to bar the way, and which 
 were baffled by his speed. Now the 
 black irregular line of the Annan water 
 came in view ; and as Falcon approached 
 the ford in the direction of which he had 
 been guided, it became evident that his 
 strength was failing. He had been ridden 
 far and fast that day to reach Johnstone 
 Tower, and now the unusual strain that 
 had been put upon his power began to tell. 
 
 This Lamington would fain have con- 
 cealed from his companion, but she was
 
 8 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 quick to observe how much more fre- 
 quently he required to speak, urging the 
 jaded animal forward. When they had 
 forded the Annan, voice and spur prompted 
 Falcon into a gallop, but the effort he 
 made was apparent. His pace was slower, 
 he snorted heavily at every bound, and 
 those grim shadows of surrounding objects 
 seemed to stoop closer and longer over him. 
 
 "If he should fail us now," she said, 
 raising her pale face, " they will overtake 
 us and they will kill you." 
 
 " Have no fear. Falcon will hold out 
 until we reach Dumfries, and there I hope 
 to find a friend waiting with fresh horses 
 to carry us in safety to our journey's end." 
 
 " Safety," she echoed, doubtingly. " Ah, 
 Bertrand, where in all Scotland shall we 
 find that now ? We have made relentless 
 enemies of my father and my brothers, and 
 there is no resting-place to which they will 
 not follow us."
 
 THE HOT TROD. 9 
 
 " I do not fear that, either ; for, give me 
 only a few days, and I will satisfy them 
 that I have rescued you from the hands 
 of a villain — one so foul at heart that, 
 knowing him, no man would stir a step in 
 his cause." 
 
 "You will never satisfy them of that." 
 ^' Well, if the worst happen, we can 
 defend ourselves." 
 
 She started suddenly, straining her eyes 
 into the gloom behind. 
 
 " Did you hear ? " she cried. 
 " I heard nothing but the wind." 
 " It was like the baying of a hound." 
 " That might have been, and yet give us 
 no cause for trouble. But it is your fancy 
 that plays tricks with you. Come, Falcon, 
 lad, complete the work you have begun so 
 well. On, lad, on; there is only a little 
 space to cover now." 
 
 Katherine was silenced, but not satisfied.
 
 10 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 The horse responded to the new com- 
 mand with a mighty effort ; but his speed 
 soon relaxed again, to be again quickened 
 by voice and spur. 
 
 The constant effort to sustain the horse 
 became almost as fatiguing to the rider 
 as the exertion it produced was to the 
 animal. A fair speed, however^ was main- 
 tained ; and at length, as they neared 
 Dumfries, the towers of Grey Friars and 
 St. Michael loomed up darkly against the 
 lowering sky. 
 
 Then Bertrand permitted Falcon to slacken 
 pace, and enter the town at a jaded walk. 
 The douce burgesses, who in those days 
 observed the simple rule of bedding soon 
 after sunset and rising with the lark, had, 
 for the most part, retired to rest, and were 
 undisturbed by the ring of the horse's slow 
 steps. There were, however, gleams of 
 light in a few windows where a late feast
 
 THE HOT TROD. 11 
 
 or sickness caused some of the folk to make 
 a breach in the rule. A pale sickly light 
 illumed several of the windows of the 
 monastery of Grey Friars — in the chapel 
 of which Comyn was slain by Bruce and 
 his followers. The black outline of the 
 ancient castle of the Maxwells rose pro- 
 tectingly above the sleeping town, and the 
 lights gleaming through the portholes of 
 the guard house indicated that watch and 
 ward were observed. 
 
 The better to avoid the curious gaze of 
 any loiterer, Lamington passed down by 
 the warder's dyke towards the Nith. On 
 reaching the margin of the broad waste 
 called the Sands, which were at high tide 
 covered with water, and at the ebb left 
 bare and yellow, he turned in the direction 
 of the bridge of Devorgilla. 
 
 Almost opposite to the bridge, and 
 distant from it not more than two hundred
 
 12 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 yards, was a square, white house, of two 
 storeys in height, and roofed with thick, 
 brown thatch. It had a squat, comfortable 
 look in daylight, and stood in the midst 
 of a cluster of small houses. It had three 
 entrance doors, one giving to the High 
 Street, the second, an equally important 
 one, giving to the bridge ; and the third, 
 at the side, was used only for communi- 
 cation with the stables. This was the 
 principal hostelry of the town, and was 
 called the Eoyal Hunt, on account of its 
 having been the resting-place of the king's 
 party on the way to the royal forest of 
 Kells. Matthew Hislop was the vintner, 
 and he was soon brought to the door by 
 the loud summons of Lamington, although 
 the house had been closed for the night. 
 
 The vintner was s. stout fellow of middle 
 age, who before he had settled down to 
 his present occupation had proved the
 
 THE HOT TROD. 13 
 
 strength of his limbs in many a Border 
 wrestling bout, and in not a few fights of 
 a more questionable character. 
 
 He stared in some astonishment at the 
 appearance of the cavalier and the lady 
 with one horse. The worn-out appearance 
 of the latter, its hide covered with foam 
 and bespattered with mud, were suggestive 
 of a ride that had not been altogether one 
 of pleasure. Whatever suspicions might 
 have been aroused in his mind, he was 
 not permitted to express them, even if he 
 had intended to do so. 
 
 Bertrand hastily inquired if he had any 
 guest waiting for a friend. 
 
 " Was there any sign ? " queried the 
 vintner, cautiously. 
 
 " Yes, the man's belt is buckled with a 
 boar's head such as this." 
 
 Opening his cloak the knight displayed 
 the silver buckle of his own sword belt 
 which was formed like a boar's head.
 
 14 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 "It's the Gordon," muttered Hislop, 
 recognizing the badge of the family ; " na, 
 the chiel ye want is no here." 
 
 Lamington gave vent to an exclamation 
 of disappointment, and then, hastily : 
 " Show me your best chamber, and get 
 the horse taken to the stable. There are 
 twenty crowns for you if you serve me 
 faithfully to-night." 
 
 This promise infused sudden alacrity 
 into the movements of the host ; and 
 whilst he conducted his guests to his 
 principal chamber upstairs, an ostler took 
 the horse round to the stable. 
 
 The vintner, promptly obeying the 
 orders he had received, spread the table 
 with the best repast his larder could supply 
 at the moment; and whilst he was thus 
 occupied, Lamington questioned him as to 
 the possibility of obtaining a couple of 
 good horses.
 
 THE HOT TROD. 15 
 
 " There's no a brute in the stable that 
 could travel five miles the night," was the 
 disappointing answer. 
 
 " Can you not borrow from some of your 
 neighbours ? " 
 
 "No — at any rate, I cannot think o' 
 ane that could oblige ye, for the morn's 
 fair day at Lockerbie, and a' the horse 
 and cattle that's worth a straw are awa' 
 there." 
 
 " We must wait, then, for Will's arrival*, 
 or we must start again after Falcon has 
 had a rest," was the disagreeable conclu- 
 sion which the knight was compelled to 
 accept. 
 
 Hislop was retiring, when he was stayed 
 by Lamington touching his arm. 
 
 " See you, master vintner, should ill luck 
 bring you other guests to-night, than the 
 man we are looking for, give us timely 
 warning ; and take heed that they know
 
 16 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 nothing of our presence here. Be faithful, 
 and the twenty crowns may be doubled." 
 
 " I ken what's what," nodded the vintner 
 discreetly, " and I gie you my word that 
 nae harm shall come to ye or the bonnie 
 lady in my house." 
 
 " Enough, see you to the comfort of my 
 horse ; we may have to depend on his speed 
 again." 
 
 The door closed upon Hislop, and Gordon 
 turned to the lady.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 FORESHADOWS. 
 
 Say, should we scorn joy's transient beams 
 Because to-morrow storms may lour?" 
 
 Glenfinlas. 
 
 >^^T^ H E room was long and narrow, 
 with two windows opening to 
 the high street. It was lit by 
 a cresset hanging from the low roof by 
 an iron chain. The light scattered the 
 darkness from the centre of the chamber, 
 but permitted it to form in dark shadows 
 in the corners, and to give the larger pieces 
 of the massive furniture a gloomy aspect. 
 
 The feeble light, the big shadows, and the 
 
 2
 
 18 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 quietude of the niglit, rendered the appear- 
 ance of the apartment cold and dismal. 
 
 Lamington was surprised to see Katherine 
 with her head bowed on the table and her 
 hands clasped as if she were in pain. 
 Anxiously he raised her head and gazed 
 in her eyes, which were full of tears. 
 
 " Katherine, do you fear our fate so 
 much that all your courage has forsaken 
 you? 
 
 She answered him low and tremulously. 
 
 " No, Bertrand ; I do not fear our fate, 
 whatever that may be ; but I fear the 
 course which has led us to it." 
 
 "You mean that you are calmer now, 
 and that you regret the sacrifice you have 
 made for my sake ? " 
 
 " Not that ; I regret nothing that is done 
 for your sake, and had you come to me 
 before they had forced me to the altar I 
 would have been happy now, and could
 
 FORESHADOWS. 19 
 
 have met the dangers that arise at every 
 step with a firm heart." 
 
 " Why then be sad ? " 
 
 She glanced round the room shudder- 
 ingly. 
 
 " They told me I was his wife — and 
 Heaven itself frowns upon the woman who 
 breaks the sacred tie of wedlock. He has 
 the right to claim me; to drag me from 
 you, and the mighty voice of the Church 
 supports his claim. Whilst he lives I can 
 never call you husband." 
 
 " You made no vow," he cried earnestly; 
 " you were forced to the altar ; the coward 
 priest, who was unworthy of his high 
 office, performed the ceremony in terror of 
 his own wretched life ; and the Church 
 will refuse to acknowledge such a mockery 
 of its most holy rites." 
 
 " If that be so, a weary burden is lifted 
 from my heart."
 
 20 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 "It is so, as you shall find before many 
 hours are past. I carry you now to the 
 Abbot Panther, and he shall protect you 
 until the Pope himself shall have annulled 
 every claim that Cochrane might have 
 upon you. A few weeks will suffice to 
 obtain your release, and until then regard 
 me as your friend — your brother who 
 devotes his life to your happiness." 
 
 " You give me new strength, and hence- 
 forth you shall find me as fearless and un- 
 faltering as yourself." 
 
 He pressed her hand respectfully to his 
 lips. 
 
 " That is Katherine Janfarie who is 
 speaking now, and not the timid maiden 
 who trembles at the shadows of her own 
 fancy. Eemember, there must be no more 
 doubts — no more lingering looks cast back- 
 ward, or I shall doubt your love." 
 
 She clasped his arms spasmodically.
 
 FORESHADOWS. 21 
 
 " You must never doubt that," she cried, 
 " for it would kill me. I have forsaken all 
 the world for you. I have staked even the 
 good name, which is my highest treasure ; 
 and if you doubt me after that, there is 
 nothing more to live for." 
 
 " I will never doubt," he said, in a low, 
 passionate tone, " until you yourself shall 
 say you wish you had not loved me." 
 
 " When you prove false, my misery may 
 wring from me such a cry as that, but no 
 other power can move me to it." 
 
 " And when I do prove false you shall 
 have the right to spurn me." 
 
 Their eyes were bright with confidence, 
 undimmed by any speck of dread of the 
 possible terrors the future might have in 
 store. 
 
 " Come," he said presently, with a 
 happy laugh, "I see the tears are gone from 
 your eyes, which tell me that all doubt
 
 22 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 has vanished from your mind. Be ever so 
 — look always thus, and you will find me 
 always at your feet — your slave. Ay, by 
 my faith, as much your slave when wedded 
 years have passed, with all their petty 
 bickerings, as now, when we are looking 
 to the future through the bright halo of 
 hopeful love." 
 
 " That is a pledge," she said, affected by 
 his good humour, and the grave trouble of 
 her visage disappeared in a smile. 
 
 ^' A pledge it is, and you shall christen 
 it with me in this wine. Come, we will be 
 merry while we have this moment to rest, 
 and I will describe our course to you." 
 
 He spoke with the ease of one uncon- 
 scious of danger, and with the gaiety of 
 one who is perfectly happy. This naturally 
 influenced her, and before many minutes 
 had passed she was almost as merry as if 
 there were no peril near.
 
 FORESHADOWS. 23 
 
 " First, I have to place you under the 
 safe keeping of Abbot Panther," he pro- 
 ceeded gaily ; "he is one who fears neither 
 king nor baron. He has the power, and 
 I believe he has the will to serve me. I 
 journeyed with him from France, where he 
 is Abbot of Poitou; and I have a tryste 
 with him at Kells. He is the Pope's 
 Legate, and once under his protection the 
 king himself will hesitate to force your 
 inclination, even in behoof of his favourite, 
 Cochrane." 
 
 " But the king will visit his displeasure 
 with him on you." 
 
 " Most like he will ; but there is a way 
 by which I hope to overcome it. His 
 brothers, Albany and Mar, hold me in 
 some esteem — I dare swear esteem as high 
 as their dislike for Cochrane is deep. With 
 their aid I hope to satisfy our royal master 
 that in this matter I have done nothing
 
 24 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 save that wliicli an honourable gentleman 
 must have done ; and that in other matters 
 I have served him best when he condemned 
 me most — in proving the falseness of the 
 knave who is now chief in his counsels." 
 
 " Take heed, Bertrand, take heed ; it is a 
 dangerous path you seek to tread." 
 " The more honour in the victory." 
 " Ay, but in this the odds are too much 
 against you. If it were in the field of 
 battle that you had to prove yourself, I 
 would buckle on your sword, and watch 
 with proud eyes your steps to victory — or 
 death" (trembling a little at that word). 
 " I have no fear when the foeman stands 
 declared before you in the light of day. 
 Then I would pray the Sacred Mother to 
 watch over you, and could wait the issue 
 calmly. But in this course you mark out, 
 you have to deal with wolves and foxes in 
 the dark, scarce knowing who is your
 
 FORESHADOWS. 25 
 
 friend and who your enemy. It is not the 
 sword of a gentleman that can protect you; 
 you must wield the weapons of the knaves 
 you fight against ; cunning must be your 
 brand, and artifice your shield." 
 
 "Be it so ; at least I shall use them 
 honestly, and for a worthy purpose." 
 
 " Why use them at all ? " 
 
 " Because there is no other way to 
 justice." 
 
 " Then why seek such justice ? Why 
 not be content in having that man's claim 
 to me annulled, and in taking me to your 
 home? We can be very happy there, 
 making a world of our own, whilst all the 
 storms and miseries of ambition and 
 intrigue pass by us unheeded." 
 
 His brow became clouded, and his hands 
 clenched. Then sadly : 
 
 " My home, Katherine — have you for- 
 gotten ? — my home is where my sword or
 
 26 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 wit may cleave a way for me. The old 
 tower stands yonder by the eerie Loch of 
 Yar, and it will give ns shelter from the 
 wind and rain when the need comes. But 
 it can give ns no protection from the spite 
 of men. It is garrisoned by two old ser- 
 vitors who have been faithful to our house 
 in its misfortune as in its triumph, and 
 their son — the fellow who should have met 
 us here. They are strong enough to hold 
 it, for it owns nothing that is worth any 
 man's lifting. The lands around it, which 
 once gave its owners the right to stand 
 abreast with the foremost of the country, 
 are not ours now, but the king's, since my 
 father was falsely charged with aiding 
 Douglas in slaying Maclellan of Bombie. 
 That sentence must be revoked ; those 
 lands must be restored to me before I cease 
 to war with whatever weapons my need 
 may demand."
 
 FORESHADOWS. 27 
 
 Katherine's reply was interrupted by 
 the baying of a hound, and the clatter of 
 horses' hoofs rising above the whistling 
 of the wind. 
 
 Bertrand sprang to the casement, and, 
 slightly parting the hangings, peered forth. 
 He saw two horsemen disappearing in the 
 direction of the stable. 
 
 "If I am not happily mistaken," he 
 whispered hurriedly, "it is your brother 
 and Cochrane who have made upon us. 
 We must try Falcon again." 
 
 Katherine leaped to her feet, and drew 
 close over her head the cloak her lover had 
 placed round her. She had become pale 
 at the announcement of the pursuers' 
 arrival, but she was firm and decisive in 
 her movements. 
 
 The door suddenly opened, and Hislop 
 entered with much confusion in his manner. 
 
 " Your horse is dead, sir," he said, under
 
 28 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 his breath, and closing the door after 
 him. 
 
 " Dead ! " ejaculated the fugitives to- 
 gether. 
 
 " Ay, dead, sir, and a bonnie beast he 
 was tae ; but ye hae ridden him owre sair. 
 He wad neither take bite nor sup when we 
 got him into the stable ; he just drappit 
 doon pechan' his life out, and he died just 
 as I was wetting his mou' wi' some o' the 
 best Malmsey." 
 
 " Why did you not call me sooner ? " 
 said Bertrand, angrily. 
 
 " I didna want to disturb ye, sir ; and 
 maybe it was as weel, for there are twa 
 gentlemen hae just ridden into the yard, 
 and the youngest o' them saw your horse, 
 and said he would swear it was Laming- 
 ton's. By that he ken'd that ye and the 
 lady were in the house, and they're seeking 
 ye up and down." 
 
 " Where are they ? "
 
 FORESHADOWS. 29 
 
 " One o' them's keeping guard in the 
 lobby, and the ither's turning every room 
 he comes tae tapsalteerie. But ye just 
 unlock yon door ahint ye wi' the key 
 ye see hanging on it, and it opens on a 
 stair that'll tak' ye doon tae the kitchen, 
 and the guidwife will try to slip ye oot, 
 while I try tae get that chiel tae quit the 
 lobby." 
 
 " Where are their horses ? " 
 
 " In the stable-yard." 
 
 Bertrand seized the key from the nail on 
 which it hung, and opened the narrow 
 door which gave to the private staircase. 
 
 Katherine uttered an exclamation of 
 amaze, and Bertrand drew back a pace, 
 for the moment the door was opened they 
 were confronted by Sir Eobert Cochrane ! 
 
 Searching the house, Cochrane had dis- 
 covered the entrance to the staircase in the 
 kitchen, and followed it with this result.
 
 ?5? 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 " But hark, what means yon faint halloo ? 
 The chase is up — but they shall know 
 The stag at bay's a dangerous foe." 
 
 Scott. 
 
 ^^HERE was a peculiarly cold smile 
 on Ooclirane's sallow visage, and 
 a gratified glitter in his eyes, 
 as he noted the effect his unexpected ap- 
 pearance created. He spoke with a tone of 
 satiric civility, affecting to treat the whole 
 transaction as only a jest which had been 
 carried a little too far. 
 
 " You have afforded us excellent sport,
 
 THE BROKEN SWORD. 31 
 
 Master Gordon," he said, showing a row 
 of white teeth, through which the words 
 passed hissingly, " and you, too, mis- 
 tress, we have to thank you for this 
 merry game of hide-and-seek ; but I am 
 afraid, the hiders being found, the game 
 must end." 
 
 " Stand aside, sir," cried Lamington, 
 fiercely ; " we are in no mood for jests, and 
 least of all from you." 
 
 Cochrane did not move, and he addressed 
 himself directly to Katherine. 
 
 " Madam, as your husband, and as one 
 holding some position that may not be 
 lightly tarnished, I must beg you to accom- 
 pany me straight to your home. We will 
 forget this little excursion you have made, 
 somewhat against my will, and we will try 
 to keep all knowledge of it from those who 
 might judge it more harshly than I wish 
 to do."
 
 32 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 Her face crimsoned, and an angry liglit 
 shone in her eyes. Contempt, scorn, and de- 
 fiance were in her look as she answered him : 
 
 " The title you claim was obtained by 
 force. No word or look of mine gave 
 assent to the bond which you hold over me. 
 Foully and cruelly it was thrust upon me, 
 and the dear Yirgin be my witness now 
 that I renounce it utterly — I spurn it from 
 me, and no power on earth shall ever make 
 me yield to it." 
 
 The cold smile — cruel and satanic almost 
 in its expression — became more marked on 
 Cochrane's face. 
 
 " You are my wife, madam, despite your 
 brave renunciation of my title to call 
 you so. But, however strong you may 
 feel in your determination now, I doubt 
 not that in time you will learn wisdom and 
 forswear this girlish passion — ay, and 
 regret it too."
 
 THE BROKEN SWORD. 33 
 
 He spoke with irritating coolness and 
 confidence. 
 
 She would have answered again, but Gor- 
 don prevented her. 
 
 " Hush, Katherine ! have no more words 
 with him. This fellow understands no 
 argument of goodness or justice ; but there 
 is one law he understands — that of neces- 
 sity, and we must put him to it." 
 
 Whilst he had been speaking, Cochrane, 
 although watching him closely, had bent 
 his head as if listening for the sound of 
 some one coming, and he was apparently 
 satisfied with the result. 
 
 "You are a valiant gentleman. Master 
 Gordon," he said, sneeringly ; " you have 
 proved yourself worthy of the name you 
 bear, and I own that I would rather have 
 called you friend than foe. Since that may 
 not be, I salute you with all due respect as 
 a worthy enemy in the field or in the 
 
 3
 
 34 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 council chamber. But, as a gentleman, I 
 think you can scarcely deny my right to 
 remove that lady." 
 
 Gordon with difficulty restrained him- 
 self during the delivery of these cynical 
 remarks, and he answered impatiently : 
 
 " Fine words, sir, will not prove your 
 right ; but you have a sword, and it may. 
 On guard." 
 
 Griving Cochrane no more time than to 
 place himself in a position of defence, Gror- 
 don assailed him with rapid and vigorous 
 passes which only an experienced swords- 
 man could have parried Cochrane seemed 
 to be more intent at first upon discovering 
 the peculiar method of his opponent's play, 
 than upon giving thrust for thrust. For 
 the moment his coolness and his purely 
 defensive action seemed to give him the 
 advantage. But at the instant when he 
 seemed to have discovered the trick of his
 
 THE BROKEN SWORD. 35 
 
 antagonist's fence, and was about to avail 
 himself of tliat knowledge in a deadly 
 lounge, Lamington, by a dexterous swirl of 
 his sword, wrenched Cochrane's out of his 
 hand. 
 
 Cochrane stood astounded, and at the 
 mercy of his enemy. The sword point was 
 at his breast, when Katherine threw her- 
 self upon her lover's arm. 
 
 " Not yet, Bertrand," she cried, " not in 
 my sight. Let him live until the world 
 knows his baseness, and some vulgar hand 
 strikes him to the earth." 
 
 Grordon sheathed his weapon, and picked 
 up from the floor that of Cochrane. 
 
 " If you were capable of gratitude," he 
 said, sternly, " I would bid you be grateful 
 to this lady for your wretched life. As it is, 
 I am content to obey her wish, unworthy 
 as you are of one merciful thought. But 
 thus I show my scorn of your knighthood."
 
 36 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 So saying, he broke the sword across his 
 knee, and flung the pieces at the mans 
 feet. 
 
 " You have given me a lesson;" said the 
 defeated man, or rather hissed, for his teeth 
 were clenched and more displayed than 
 usual, " and I thank you. I will not 
 forget it. I know your trick, and it will 
 not serve you a second time." 
 
 " By St. Michael, the second time will 
 ring the death-knell of one of us. Take up 
 your sword, broken though it be ; it is 
 a worthier weapon than you have any 
 right to wear. Now, stand aside." 
 
 Gripping him by the arm, he whirled 
 him across the floor. At the same time 
 Hislop, who had contrived to hide himself 
 from Cochrane's view by stooping behind 
 one of the chairs in the obscurity of the 
 corner, darted forward and extinguished 
 the cresset throwing the chamber into 
 complete darkness.
 
 THE BROKEN SWORD. 37 
 
 Gordon's hand was fortunately on the 
 door, and he passed through, drawing 
 Katherine after him. He took the pre- 
 caution to remove the key from the inside, 
 and so locked the door when he got out, 
 making their outwitted enemy a prisoner. 
 
 They descended a dark narrow flight of 
 stairs, and suddenly found themselves in 
 the kitchen of the hostelry, which was 
 occupied only by Dame Hislop, and a maji 
 who was stretched on a wooden settle, fast 
 asleep and snoring loudly. 
 
 The dame was a broad-shouldered, big- 
 boned woman, with rather harsh features, 
 but with good-humoured eyes that softened 
 them even to a kindly look. 
 
 " Oh, sirs," she exclaimed, in an under- 
 tone, " but this is the maist awsome night 
 that ever was. Dinna ye hear the racket 
 that's in the toon and gathering about our 
 house, as if the deil himsel' had ta'en
 
 38 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 quarters in it, and the folk were gaim to 
 drive him out wi' flaming swords and a 
 smell o' his ain brimstone ? We'll hae the 
 big drum beating in a minute, and the 
 whale toon will be skelpin' about in its 
 sark." 
 
 These observations were made rather to 
 herself than to her guests, whose presence 
 she seemed scarcely to observe until she 
 had finished. Her words drew the atten- 
 tion of Katherine and Lamington to the 
 disturbance without, which in the excite- 
 ment of the encounter with Cochrane they 
 had not observed sooner. 
 
 There was a loud confusion of voices, 
 the baying of hounds, the trampling of 
 horses' hoofs, and the general din made by 
 an excited crowd. Presently to this was 
 added the loud beating of a drum, an- 
 swered by shouts and watch-cries from 
 various points of the town.
 
 THE BROKEI^ SWORD. 39 
 
 Hislop burst into the kitchen. 
 
 "It's a Hot Trod that's after ye," he 
 gasped, " and the toon's rising. Do ye no 
 hear the drum beating as though a' the 
 deils in the Border were making an assault ? 
 Saints save us, if it's ken'd that I hae been 
 hiding ye, it's as muckle as my life's 
 worth." 
 
 " Can we not pass forth ? " said Gordon. 
 " We will be safer in the midst of the 
 crowd than here." 
 
 " Ods my life, man, ye carina gang out ; 
 the house is surrounded wi' Border 
 prickers. Grie them some duds, guid wife, 
 to cast ower their ain, whilst I try and put 
 the folk aff the scent." 
 
 He rushed out, and as he did so there 
 was a tramp of heavy footsteps in the 
 passage.
 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 THE DISGUISE. 
 
 " There were four and twenty bonnie boys 
 A' clad in Jobnstone grey ; 
 They said they would take the bride again 
 By the strong hand if they may. 
 
 " Some o' them were right willing men, 
 But they were na willing a' ; 
 And four and twenty Leader lads 
 Bid them mount and ride awa'." 
 
 Katherine Janfarie. 
 
 ^J^^HE din without grew louder as 
 the startled burgesses, half- 
 dressed, and armed with the 
 first weapons that had offered to their 
 hands, hastened to the scene of the alarm. 
 Here the burning peat which Nicol Jan-
 
 THE DISGUISE. 41 
 
 farie held aloft on his spear declared the 
 purpose of the untimely disturbance ; and 
 every good man and true was thereby 
 bound to render what assistance might be 
 in his power to seize the fugitives. 
 
 Many of the townsfolk were the more 
 readily disposed to comply with the rule 
 out of spite for the alarm they had under- 
 gone, and for the disagreeable interruption 
 of their slumbers. Some there were, how- 
 ever, who, on learning the nature of the 
 " cattle " which had been lifted, were rather 
 inclined to enter upon the search as a sport 
 than with any serious desire to arrest the 
 defaulters. These were the younger men, 
 whose sympathies were naturally on the 
 side of the lovers ; whilst the former were 
 the elders, who had more regard for their 
 own comfort than for Cupid's perplexities, 
 and who had daughters of their own to 
 protect against moonlight lovers.
 
 42 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 The babble and turmoil swelled and 
 lingered in the neighbourhood of the Eoyal 
 Hunt, and at the moment when Hislop had 
 been in the kitchen announcing the rising 
 of the town and the discovery of the retreat 
 of the Laird of Lamington and his lady by 
 Sir Hugh Janfarie and his followers, an 
 entrance to the house had been forced. 
 
 Hislop immediately placed himself at 
 the command of the Borderers, with such 
 an appearance of frankness that no sus- 
 picion was aroused of the deception he was 
 practising. 
 
 " Come this gate, gentlemen," he said, 
 proceeding up the stair ; " I think the folk 
 ye're seeking are up here." 
 
 He led them through every room, leav- 
 ing the one in which Cochrane was con- 
 fined to the last. He submitted to many 
 threats and curses as chamber after cham- 
 ber failed to reward the pursuers with the
 
 THE DISGUISE. 43 
 
 slightest clue to the whereabouts of their 
 prey. 
 
 At last they discovered Cochrane, whose 
 attempts to make himself heard by his 
 friends had been drowned in the wild 
 tumult of voices, the trampling of feet, 
 and the clatter of arms within and without 
 the house. 
 
 Cochrane's explanation was briefly given, 
 and by his direction the private door was 
 forced. Then he, with Sir Hugh and 
 several men, rushed down to the kitchen, 
 whilst Eichard and the rest of the party 
 descended by the ordinary passage to pre- 
 vent the egress of their victims, whom they 
 now felt assured were run to earth. 
 
 When the Borderers burst into the 
 kitchen by both entrances almost simul- 
 taneously, the guidwife raised a skirl of 
 alarm, and seized a broomstick, as if to 
 defend herself.
 
 44 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 " Saunts preserve a' body ! '* she cried, 
 with more of a termagant's rage in her 
 manner than of a woman's fear, " what 
 are ye folk doin' rampaging about like a 
 wheen stots afore a riever ? Are ye gaun 
 to ding the biggin' about our lugs ? or are 
 ye gaun to harry the hostel that's under 
 the king's ain favour, forbye that o' the 
 Grey Friars and the lord o' the castle? 
 What do ye mean, ye ill-faured loons, 
 breaking into a decent man's house this 
 gate?" 
 
 The excited gentlemen and as many of 
 their followers as had been able to crowd 
 into the apartment were brought to a 
 standstill. Cochrane, Sir Hugh, and 
 Richard glared round the place with 
 wrathful chagrin. 
 
 The persons they sought were not there. 
 
 Besides the hostess they saw another 
 woman and two men. The woman was
 
 THE DISGUISE. 45 
 
 young, and was standing by the dresser, 
 on which she had been baking cakes, 
 when the sudden invasion of the place 
 interrupted and frightened her. She wore 
 a brown petticoat, and a loose yellow short- 
 gown or body, the sleeves of which were 
 tucked above her elbows, and her arms 
 were white with barley meal. On her 
 head she wore a " mutch " — a big frilled 
 cap — and what hair was visible had been 
 touzled and so whitened with meal that 
 it would have defied the keenest eyes to 
 have detected its colour by the feeble aid 
 the lamp afforded. One of her eyes ap- 
 peared to have received some injury, and 
 a red kerchief was tied across it, to the 
 destruction of whatever comeliness her face 
 possessed. 
 
 Scared by the uproar, she stood in a 
 shrinking posture by the dresser, holding 
 up the yellow crock in which she had been
 
 46 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 mixing the meal, as if ready to heave it at 
 the first who molested her. This little 
 trick at the same time served to shadow 
 her features, and to render it almost im- 
 possible for any of the men to obtain a 
 clear view of her face, whilst it imparted 
 a certain gankiness to her figure which 
 none of them could have associated with 
 Katherine Janfarie. 
 
 A big clumsy fellow, in the coarse garb 
 of a common hind, was stretched on the 
 wooden settle, and he only noticed the in- 
 trusion by a drowsy growl of discontent, as 
 he turned his face to the wall to sleep again. 
 
 The other man was standing by the huge 
 fireplace with a mug of ale raised to his 
 mouth, where it had apparently been 
 arrested by his surprise and curiosity at 
 the Borderers' furious entry. 
 
 He stood directly under the lamp, and as 
 he wore one of the broad-crowned bonnets
 
 THE DISGUISE. 47 
 
 used by farmers, the shadow it cast over 
 his face in the position he occupied, ren- 
 dered his features barely visible. He had 
 the appearance of a drover, and he seemed 
 to have either just arrived from a journey 
 or to have been about to start on one. A 
 large grey plaid covered his shoulders and 
 body, and the ends of it almost touched 
 the top of his high jack-boots. In one 
 hand he grasped a heavy-headed whip, and 
 in the other the mug of ale was poised. 
 
 He had a rough rustic bearing, through 
 which it would have been difficult to 
 identify the cavalier who had studied 
 gallantry at the Court of France. 
 
 It was rendered unnecessary, and indeed 
 impossible for the drover or the one-eyed 
 cakemaker to speak, by the running fire 
 of complaint and indignation which the 
 hostess kept up with unabated vigour of 
 lungs and words.
 
 48 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 " Peace, woman," commanded Sir Hugh, 
 when he had gazed round without observ- 
 ing anything suspicious — " peace, woman, 
 and acquaint us where you have hidden 
 the guests who were with you but now." 
 
 " Me hidden them ! " exclaimed the 
 hostess, with renewed energy. " My certes, 
 and what would I do that for? I hae 
 enough ado to wait on them without play- 
 ing bairn's pranks with them." 
 
 " Cease your railing, Jezebel, and answer 
 me " 
 
 The hostess interrupted him with a 
 shriek of rage, and flourished her broom- 
 stick with so much effect that she cleared 
 a space around her. 
 
 " Jessie bell or Jessie pat yersel' — I'm 
 nane," she vociferated. "And I'll no be 
 put upon in my ain house." 
 
 The drover gave vent to a guttural 
 " Haw, haw," as if the scene amused him.
 
 THE DISGUISE. 49 
 
 Cochrane stepped up to the woman and 
 spoke civilly. 
 
 " You mistake, dame ; no oifence to you 
 was intended; and pray you answer us 
 without fear and without waste of time — 
 where have the lady and the fellow who 
 was with her upstairs gone ? If they are 
 in the house, declare it at once ; for we will 
 find them, and your attempt to shield them 
 will not be to your benefit or theirs." 
 
 " Ye're a civil spoken gentleman ; but I 
 ken nought o' the folk, sae ye may keep 
 your civility for some ither body." 
 
 " You must know something of them ; 
 so be wise and answer." 
 
 " I'll answer that," broke in the drover, 
 speaking hoarsely, and as if he had some- 
 thing in his mouth. 
 
 " You ! " said Cochrane, eyeing him 
 keenly. 
 
 The man stood the inspection unmoved.
 
 50 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 But the girl at tlie dresser seemed to be 
 strangely affected by his sudden speech, 
 and also by the fact that Richard Janfarie 
 was staring at her with puzzled looks. 
 The yellow crock dropped from her hands 
 to the floor, and she stooped down to pick 
 up the fragments. 
 
 Dame Hislop, observing Janfarie's 
 curious glances, rushed towards the lass, 
 and with affected spleen, assaiHng her, con- 
 trived to take a position which concealed 
 her from the man's view. 
 
 " Ye stupid, handless taupie, ye'U hae a' 
 the dishes in the house broken in nae 
 time," she cried, giving the lass a slap on 
 the shoulder that made her stagger. 
 
 She continued to abuse her and to keep 
 beside her, and the anger was so well 
 feigned, that it lulled the rising suspicions 
 which had come so near enabling Eichard 
 to penetrate the disguise.
 
 THE DISGUISE. 51 
 
 "Aye, me," proceeded the drover, 
 hoarsely, "if ye mean the lady and 
 gentleman wha came out o' that door 
 there — I can tell ye what gate they hae 
 taen, for it was me direckit them." 
 
 " Say it, fellow," ejaculated Sir Hugh, 
 impatiently ; " where are they hidden ? " 
 
 " They are nae mair hid than I am, sae 
 far as I ken. The gentleman said he 
 wanted horses, and I told him to gang 
 up the back wynd to the monastery, whare 
 they wad maybe get them." 
 
 " Are you sure of that ? " 
 
 " I think sae ; but as they can scarcely 
 hae got to the gate yet, ye had better 
 gang after them and see." 
 
 Sir Hugh turned to his son and directed 
 him to have every door and window of the 
 house guarded, so that no one might leave 
 during his absence. 
 
 Cochrane was less satisfied than his 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 IN LOVE AND WAE. 
 
 friend with the drover s voluntary infor- 
 mation. 
 
 " Show me yonr hand," he said, seizing 
 the man's arm ; "it seems to me little used 
 to rough work such as your garb would 
 betoken you as accustomed to." 
 
 " Od maister, do ye think that ? Now, 
 that's just what my friends say ; but it has 
 got a hard grip, saft as it looks." 
 
 And with that he grasped Cochrane's 
 wrist with a force that would have made 
 an ordinary man wince. "When the drover 
 removed his hand it left a blue ring round 
 the wrist. 
 
 The consequence of this slight incident 
 might have been fatal to the fugitives, had 
 there not been at the moment a cry raised 
 outside which seemed to shape itself into 
 the words — 
 
 " They are found ! they are found ! " 
 
 Sir Hugh rushed out to discover the
 
 THE DISGUISE. 53 
 
 cause of the new commotion, and if neces- 
 sary to proceed to the monastery. He 
 was followed by Eichard and the men ; but 
 Cochrane remained. 
 
 " You have a stout gripe," he said, 
 carelessly, and still watching the man 
 narrowly. 
 
 " I said that." 
 
 " And your boast was truer than boasts 
 generally are. What is your name ? " 
 
 The abrupt question was made with a 
 purpose. A moment's hesitation would 
 have betrayed the real character of the 
 drover, which his hand had made Coch- 
 rane suspect. But he responded on the 
 instant. 
 
 " Will Craig I'm called, and whiles 
 Muclde Will." 
 
 "I will remember the name. Do you 
 know whom we are seeking ? " (Another 
 trial question, abrupt as before.)
 
 54 IN LOVE AND AYAR. 
 
 " Ye didna say." (Indifferently, and 
 placing the ale irmg to his lips.) 
 
 " The man we are seeking is called 
 Gordon of Lamington." 
 
 The drover finished his dranght, and 
 then, wiping his lips : 
 
 "Aye, I think I hae heard the name 
 afore." 
 
 " Wha said Lamington ? " was the 
 unexpected inquiry, made in a deep bass. 
 
 Cochrane wheeled about, and looked at 
 the man who had been sleeping on the 
 settle, and who was now sitting up rubbing 
 his eyes with the sleeve of his jerkin in a 
 slow stupid way. Cochrane's movement 
 prevented him observing the sudden start 
 of the drover as he observed the face of the 
 lout. 
 
 " I spoke of Lamington," said Cochrane. 
 " Have you seen him ? " 
 
 The man ceased rubbing his eyes and
 
 THE DISGUISE. 55 
 
 looked up at the speaker with an expression 
 of drowsy curiosity. 
 
 " I dinna ken you, onyway," he answered 
 in his heavy voice, " and it's nae business 
 o' yours wha I hae seen." 
 
 "With that he opened a capacious mouth 
 in a long yawn, and when his jaws were 
 stretched to the utmost his eyes lighted on 
 the drover. His mouth closed with a loud 
 snap, and he jumped up, crying : 
 
 " The maister himseF." 
 
 The drover thrust him angrily back as 
 the clown sprang to him with an expression 
 of joyous recognition on his broad simple 
 visage. 
 
 "Ye hae had ower muckle ale, Will," 
 said the drover, addressing the man by the 
 name he had given as his own. " Did ye 
 no hear the gentleman saying that here's a 
 brave company of Borderers wha hae raised 
 the Hot Trod against ane Lamington ? "
 
 56 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 The heavy jaw of the sleepy-headed 
 fellow dropped, and he looked with some 
 bewilderment from the drover to Cochrane. 
 Slowly he seemed to comprehend some- 
 thing, and still in a drowsy way he began 
 to move towards the door. He passed out. 
 
 Cochrane, whose conduct in the inter- 
 view with the drover was that of one who 
 suspects, and who is conscious that his 
 suspicions are baffled at every turn, ap- 
 peared to hesitate for an instant. Then he 
 followed the man. 
 
 " The blundering fool ! " muttered the 
 drover, without any of the hoarseness 
 which had disguised his voice ; " the addle- 
 pated knave ! I doubt not he has been 
 sleeping there since our arrival, and he 
 shows himself now when escape must be 
 made through a thousand dangers. Kathe- 
 rine ! " 
 
 The lass who had broken the crock, and
 
 THE DISGUISE. 57 
 
 wlio during the foregoing scene Lad 
 busied herself in conjunction with the 
 hostess in the baking, turned to him — 
 
 " Speak low," she said warningly ; " I 
 have heard everything. I fear he suspects 
 you, and that man who was sleeping here 
 seemed to recognize you." 
 
 "He is my follower, Will Craig — ^the 
 knave whom I expected to find here with 
 horses." 
 
 " Cochrane has followed him," was her 
 distressed cry. " He will cajole the secret 
 from him." 
 
 " Not with his life. The rascal has only 
 one faculty, but that one is fidelity to me. 
 Dolt as he is in other respects, no torture 
 could force from him a word that might 
 injure me. You might have marked that 
 I gave him warning of our peril the 
 instant I recognized him, and he seemed 
 to understand."
 
 58 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 " But if lie be so dull of wit, he may 
 forget." 
 
 " No ; he has a weak head that can only 
 comprehend one thing at a time, but once 
 he does comprehend it he clings to it 
 steadily. He never forgets." 
 
 Katherine shook her head. 
 
 "I am not satisfied. Cochrane looked 
 strangely at you as he quitted us. It was 
 rash of you to venture upon speech with 
 him at all. I trembled at every word you 
 uttered more than when my brother seemed 
 about to tear the disguise from me." 
 
 " I have had practise in the masques of 
 the Louvre. I would what remains were 
 as easily performed. I knew the hazard, 
 and if it succeeded I counted that we were 
 so much the safer." 
 
 " Whisht ye, whisht ! " muttered the 
 hostess, who was standing by the door 
 listening ; " there's some ane coming."
 
 THE DISGUISE. 59 
 
 Katherine instantly resumed the pretence 
 of baking, and Grordon again placed himself 
 under the lantern. 
 
 The door was pushed open and Hislop 
 appeared. 
 
 " The toon lads are making sport," he 
 said. "They raised a cry enoo that ye 
 were found, and hae drawn maist o' the 
 folk tae the cross. But it's o' nae use to 
 ye unless ye could rin out ; and guid kens 
 how that's to be managed, for there are 
 twenty men guarding the house. I'm 
 clean at my wits' ends how to serve 
 
 you." 
 
 Gordon's brows contracted as he bent 
 his head in meditation. 
 
 Katherine watched him eagerly, and 
 with pulse quickened to pain. 
 
 Every outlet was guarded, and every 
 hope of escape seemed to be extinguished. 
 The only gleam of light which he could
 
 60 Ilf LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 perceive in the darkness that had fallen 
 upon them was the presence of his follower, 
 Muckle Will. But even his presence 
 inspired little confidence in the result 
 which was to follow their efforts ! It was 
 impossible for two men to stand against 
 the band of Borderers who supported 
 Cochrane ; and unless they could pass 
 them, there was no chance of escape. 
 
 They might have cut a way through the 
 midst of their foes had they been alone : 
 Gordon had made as bold a hazard before 
 now. But with a woman to conduct in 
 safety such a venture would have been 
 utter madness, even supposing Will had 
 the horses close at hand, which was exceed- 
 ingly doubtful, seeing that he had neither 
 made himself known to the landlord, as he 
 had been directed, nor had explained why 
 he was there without the equipage. 
 
 A few seconds sufficed for him to make
 
 THE DISGUISE. 61 
 
 this disagreeable review of their position. 
 Then raising his head abruptly : 
 
 " Have you seen the fellow who was 
 sleeping here a little while ago ? " 
 
 "Ay, he gaed out to the stable alang 
 wi' the chiel ye had the tulzie wi' up the 
 stair," said the host. 
 
 "He will betray you," said Katherine 
 in agitation. 
 
 Lamington took her hands, gazing 
 tenderly in her face. 
 
 " You will understand the lad some day, 
 Kate ; meanwhile, be assured of this, I can 
 trust him with my life, even as I could 
 trust you." 
 
 " The Holy Mother grant that your trust 
 be well placed," she said, still doubting. 
 
 " You will find it so," was his confident 
 reply ; and turning to Hislop he continued, 
 " When did the knave arrive ? " 
 
 " About twa hours syne."
 
 62 m LOYE AND WAE. 
 
 " Had lie no liorses with liim ? " 
 
 " He had nothing ; he just came in, took 
 a waught o' yull, and laid himself down 
 there like a muckle smnph, and wadna say 
 a word ahout where he cam' frae, or where 
 he was going to, or anything ava." 
 
 Gordon's countenance lightened as if 
 with some inspiration, and he hastily 
 counted out ten gold pieces on the table. 
 
 " Thanks, host, for what you have done," 
 he said, hurriedly; " and here is the reward 
 I promised you doubled. You and your 
 good dame shall hear from me again to 
 your profit for this night's service, if 
 I live." 
 
 Hislop iterated his readiness to serve 
 so worthy a gentleman and so fair a lady, 
 and wished that he saw them well through 
 their trouble. 
 
 Katherine grasped her lover's arm, look- 
 ing anxiously in his eyes as she observed
 
 THE DISGUISE. 63 
 
 him feel under his plaid for his sword, to 
 make sure that it was ready to his hand. 
 
 " What are you about to do ? " she 
 queried. 
 
 " To make another venture ; we must 
 risk everything to win safe passage to our 
 destination." 
 
 " But the risk need not be rashly made." 
 
 " Nothing but rashness can save us now. 
 Have you courage, Katherine ? " ^ 
 
 "For your sake I think I have courage 
 to dare anything." 
 
 " Then for my sake you must bide here 
 for a little while. Should any one attempt 
 to force you hence, blow upon this whistle ; 
 that will let me know your danger, and 
 bring Will to your side." 
 
 " And you ? " 
 
 " I must go forth ; and if I can but raise 
 a riot among the burgesses we may escape 
 unnoticed in the confusion. That is our
 
 64 
 
 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 only chance; and, by tlie saints, I think 
 Cochrane himself supplies the means to 
 help lis to it. Stay yon here, and do not 
 stir till I return."
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 THE COCHRANE PLACKS. 
 
 " Then whingers flew frae gentles' sides. 
 And swords flew frae the shea's. 
 And red and rosy was the blood 
 Ean doon the lily braes." 
 
 Katherine Janfark. 
 
 E ruslied out, making for the 
 door which opened upon the 
 High Street. 
 The sturdy Borderer, Fenwick, who was 
 on guard, arrested him. 
 
 " You cannot pass, master, whatever 
 TOur haste may be." 
 
 " I seek Sir Robert Cochrane," was the 
 
 5
 
 66 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 response, in a hoarse, disguised voice, and 
 with a manner of breathless haste ; " and 
 I must find him." 
 
 " If that be your errand, pass on. He 
 was here a minute ago." 
 
 Lamington darted by the guard and 
 speedily joined the crowd of burgesses who 
 were flitting excitedly about the Town 
 House, or standing together in groups, 
 earnestly discussing the events of the 
 night. Many of them carried links or 
 lanterns, and the lights flashing through 
 the darkness, and flickering under the 
 strong wind which was sweeping up the 
 street, imparted to their disturbed visages 
 a gloomy aspect. 
 
 Grordon mingled amongst them, and 
 much to his relief overheard dissatisfied 
 murmurs at the untimely disturbance of 
 the town's repose, for apparently so little 
 purpose as the hunt after a brace of run- 
 away lovers who could not be discovered.
 
 THE COCHRANE PLACES. 67 
 
 " Know you who leads the Hot Trod ? " 
 said Gordon to one stalwart fellow whom 
 he heard swearing that he believed the 
 whole affair was a trick of the Borderers to 
 harry the town. 
 
 " I neither ken nor care," answered the 
 man, surlily. 
 
 "It is Cochrane, the maker of the base 
 placks — the fellow who has commanded us 
 to accept pieces of lead and brass for good 
 silver money, and who has ruined honest 
 men by his knavery." 
 
 " I wish we could lay hands on the 
 chiel ; we'd let him ken what we think o' 
 the Cochrane placks." 
 
 "After me, then, and you shall have 
 your wish." 
 
 "Hey, lads, here's sport that's worth 
 while turning out for," shouted the man 
 to his comrades. " Wha'll take Cochrane 
 placks in payment for his wark or guids ?"
 
 68 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 "Nane of us," was the general yell of 
 execration which rose at the mention of 
 the debased coin. 
 
 " Let the maker of them ken that. 
 Here's a chiel says that Cochrane himsel's 
 among us the night. Come on, and gie 
 him a taste of our mettle." 
 
 The proposition was greeted with a 
 vehement shout that echoed from one end 
 of the town to the other, and indicated the 
 hearty detestation which was entertained 
 for the king's favourite, in consequence 
 of his ill-advised attempt to impose upon 
 the people, in the matter of the new 
 coin. 
 
 The crowd instantly followed Lamington 
 towards the Royal Hunt ; and as it passed 
 onward the meaning of the new movement 
 was hurriedly explained to neighbours and 
 friends with all the exaggerations and 
 transformations which a word passing
 
 THE COCHEANE PLACES. 69 
 
 rapidly from lip to lip in an excited mob 
 assumes. 
 
 The crowd swelled as it progressed, and 
 the original cause of the rising was entirely 
 forgotten in the present and much more 
 personal source of action. 
 
 The people had doggedly refused to 
 accept the coin issued by Cochrane, trade 
 had been interrupted in consequence, and 
 much misery had been felt on that account 
 in every town in Scotland. MercharTts 
 would not accept payment in the new coin 
 for their goods, farmers would not take it 
 for their grain, and labourers would not 
 have it for their hire. The result was 
 ruin to many men, starvation to many 
 more, and discomfort to every one. 
 
 For these reasons the people entertained 
 an intense hatred towards the man who 
 had endeavoured to force the false coin 
 upon them. And this sentiment was at
 
 70 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 any moment ready to assume a perilous 
 expression wherever the king's favourite 
 appeared, and any man bold enough to act 
 as leader stood forward. 
 
 The happy remembrance of these cir- 
 cumstances promised now to afford Gordon 
 and Katherine all the assistance of which 
 they stood so much in need, and for which 
 they could not have hoped from any other 
 source. 
 
 His heart swelling with the consciousness 
 of triumph, Gordon rushed onward raising 
 the shout — 
 
 " Justice for the people — no more base 
 placks ! " 
 
 The crowd pressed round the doors of 
 the hostelry in spite of all the efforts to 
 keep them back, made by the Borderers 
 who had been left on guard. 
 
 The Borderers, unable to discover the 
 meaning of the riot, formed inside the
 
 THE COCHRANE PLACES. 71 
 
 doorways with spears fixed in close pha- 
 lanx, thereby checking the foremost of the 
 crowd. 
 
 The people surged excitedly to and fro, 
 and, still obeying the guidance of Laming- 
 ton, called loudly for Sir Robert Cochrane, 
 although they did not make any immediate 
 attempt to break down the spears of the 
 guard and force an entrance. 
 
 Suddenly there was a movement amongst 
 the Borderers; they divided, leaving a 
 passage for one man, and Sir Robert 
 Cochrane, bearing a torch in his left hand, 
 presented himself to the people. 
 
 The light shone full upon his stern 
 visage, and the air of proud authority which 
 he assumed, combined with the undaunted 
 coolness with which he appeared unarmed 
 before the men who summoned him so 
 furiously, awed them for the moment, and 
 made them silent.
 
 72 IN LOVE AND WAE. 
 
 " I am lie you call Eobert Cochrane," he 
 said in a sharp, clear tone ; " what is it you 
 seek with me ? " 
 
 A murmur like the distant roll of thunder 
 passed along the crowd ; but at first no one 
 seemed to have courage enough to stand 
 forward as spokesman, and singly to brave 
 his contemptuous regard. 
 
 Lamington whispered in the ear of the 
 man whom he had first addressed, and he 
 immediately made a step in advance of his 
 companions. 
 
 " Will ye tak' back the placks ye hae 
 sent out to us made wi' brass and lead, and 
 gie us guid silver to trade wi' ? " 
 
 " The day I'm hanged they maybe called 
 in — not sooner," was the contemptuous 
 retort. 
 
 " There's mony a true word spoke in jest, 
 my lord," said the man threateningly. 
 
 " Stand aside, varlet ; and all you who
 
 THE COCHRANE PLACES. 73 
 
 hear me, take heed of what you do, for any 
 violence offered to me in this matter is 
 offered to the king himself, whose laws you 
 break, and whose commands you disobey." 
 
 A crowd is as lightly moved as a feather, 
 which goes any way the strongest current 
 of wind blows it. Cochrane's calmness and 
 audacity, and the authority with which he 
 spoke, checked the impulse of the mob, 
 which having no plan of action, was 
 brought to a stand-still by his decisive 
 answer. 
 
 There was another murmur and another 
 pause ; and during that pause Gordon heard 
 the shrill note of the whistle which he had 
 given to Katherine to sound in warning, if 
 any danger assailed her during his absence. 
 Before the note of alarm had done echoing 
 through the house, his sword was in his 
 hand. 
 
 " We shall have your promise, master,
 
 74 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 to undo the cheat you have put upon us, 
 nevertheless," he shouted, hoarsely. 
 
 The crowd caught up the shout with an 
 eagerness that showed their sympathy in it, 
 and their readiness to follow any leader in 
 such a cause. 
 
 The whistle was still ringing in his ears, 
 and he gave instant action to his words — 
 an example which he knew the men behind 
 him would follow if he led the way before 
 their re-awakened sense of injury received 
 any new check. 
 
 With a swift stroke of his sword he 
 swept the torch out of Cochrane's hand. 
 The suddenness of the movement had 
 the advantage of preventing any of the 
 Borderers observing who had struck the 
 blow. 
 
 The crowd, now heaving and shouting 
 with the fury of demons, pressed close 
 behind him, and in its irresistible tide
 
 THE COCHRANE PLACES. 75 
 
 carried Cochrane away from the door. He 
 struggled with might and main, but without 
 effect. His loud cries for assistance were 
 heard by Richard Janfarie, and he, raising 
 the slogan of his father's house, pushed 
 forward to the rescue, whilst his followers 
 made a stout fight to support him. 
 
 As the men pushed their way out at the 
 door, Lamington forced his way in. The 
 excitement and confusion was too great for 
 his movement to be observed. 
 
 Above all the tumult, his quick ear dis- 
 tinguished the voice of Katherine, and as 
 he burst into the kitchen, he saw her 
 struggling in the midst of half a dozen of 
 her father's men. 
 
 Hislop was lying on the floor stunned ; 
 the hostess was using her nails furiously in 
 trying to make one grim-visaged fellow 
 relinquish his grasp of the lady whom the 
 men were dragging towards the door.
 
 76 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 When Lamington had quitted the 
 kitchen, Katherine had waited in tremhhng 
 impatience for the result of his adventure. 
 For some minutes she had been undisturbed ; 
 but at length she was startled by the sud- 
 den reappearance of Cochrane with six men. 
 He had only had time to ask where the 
 drover had gone when the tumultuous 
 summons of the people had called him 
 away. 
 
 He bade the men remain, however, and 
 they asked for some ale, being fatigued 
 with their long ride, and ready to make 
 themselves comfortable at the first oppor- 
 tunity that offered. 
 
 The host produced a large can of ale, and 
 Katherine, the better to sustain her 
 character as an attendant, handed the mugs 
 round to the men. One of them, being of 
 a jovial mood, caught her hand. 
 
 " Come, sweeten the mug wi' your lips,
 
 THE COCHRANE PLACES. V7 
 
 my lass," he said. " I'll barter my jack 
 and spear for a cradle, if yours be not a 
 fine face if that rag were off and both een 
 whole." 
 
 " If it was aff ye'd see a face that wad 
 scare ye, maister," she answered, forcing a 
 laugh, and trying to sustain her part, 
 although her limbs trembled under her ; 
 for she knew that the man had seen her 
 frequently at Johnstone. 
 
 She trembled almost as much at the 
 thought of being detected in such a trivial 
 vulgar way by one of the common retainers, 
 after she had safely passed before the eyes 
 of her father and brother, as at the know- 
 ledge of her helpless position. 
 
 " A face to scare me ! " he cried, with a 
 loud guffaw. " There's no a face o' man, 
 woman, or imp could do that ; and I'll 
 prove it, whether ye are blind or no. I 
 ken a fresh lip when I see it."
 
 78 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 He suddenly threw his arm round her 
 neck. She started from him, and in doing 
 so the bandage which had concealed one of 
 her eyes and part of her face was lifted 
 off by his bent arm. 
 
 The loud laugh with which the men had 
 greeted their comrade's exploit became 
 abruptly hushed when they heard him 
 exclaim — 
 
 "Mistress Katherine herself, or I'm 
 bewitched." 
 
 She attempted to re-cover her face, and 
 to laugh the man out of his conviction. 
 But he promptly bade one of his comrades 
 summon the master of Johnstone and Sir 
 Robert Cochrane, whilst he seized her by 
 the arm. She instantly gave the signal 
 with all her might, and Hislop sprang to 
 the door to prevent any one passing. He 
 had a sharp tussle with three of the 
 men until a heavy blow on the head
 
 THE COCHRANE PLACES. 79 
 
 with a spear-staff laid him insensible on 
 the floor. 
 
 Meanwhile Katherine, assisted by the 
 dame, had been struggling to release her- 
 self, and to repeat the signal. Thus she 
 was when Gordon came to the rescue. 
 
 A glance showed him the position of 
 affairs. 
 
 Her cry of joy at his appearance turned 
 the attention of her captors to him, and 
 four spears were instantly levelled at his 
 breast. 
 
 Parrying the thrust of the foremost, he 
 cut the man down, and springing to one 
 side, gripped a second by the throat, and 
 hurled him over his fallen comrade with 
 such force that his head striking on the 
 floor, he was stunned. The other two 
 made furious lounges, which were dexter- 
 ously warded, and by another sudden 
 spring he closed with the third man. The
 
 80 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 fourtli, however, as if prepared for tlils 
 movement, suddenly dropped liis spear and 
 drew his whinger, with which he wonld be 
 able to assist his comrade better at close 
 quarters. 
 
 At the same time the man who had 
 recognized Katherine relinquished his hold 
 of her, and sprang forward with his 
 short sword upraised to strike Gordon on 
 the back. 
 
 Katherine screamed as she saw the 
 weapon uplifted, whilst Gordon, engaged 
 with the two men before him, was unaware 
 of his peril. 
 
 A huge shadow darkened the doorway, 
 and the uplifted arm fell broken and power- 
 less to the man's side, under the blow of 
 a heavy staff wielded by the muscular hand 
 of Will Craig. Another blow laid the 
 man prone on the floor. 
 
 "I heard the whistle, and I thought
 
 THE COCHRANE PLACES. 81 
 
 there was sometliing wrang," mnttered 
 Will, without pausing in his onslaught. 
 
 Grordon had disengaged himself from his 
 two assailants, and both fell under the 
 sledge-hammer blows of Will's staff. The 
 last man — the one who had retained hold 
 of Katherine — seeing how matters stood, 
 made a bold rush for the door, and just as 
 he was crossing the threshold received 
 such a blow from Will's cudgel on the 
 buttocks as lifted him a step forward on 
 his way, and sent him out of the house 
 howling. 
 
 *< Where are the horses ? " cried Grordon. 
 
 '^ On the ither side o' the water. The 
 brig's guarded, but I hae a boat. Come 
 on, They're fechting like deils outside, 
 and winna see us.'* 
 
 Lamington took Katherine by the hand ; 
 her strength had been severely tried, but 
 she was able to hasten with him out of the 
 
 6
 
 82 
 
 IlSr LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 hoTise and run to tlie river side, as tlie 
 Borderers under Sir Hugh Janfarie gal- 
 loped down from the Grey Friar to the 
 rescue of Sir Kobert Cochrane.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE RIOT. 
 
 ' My blessing on your heart, sweet thing, 
 
 Wae to your wilful will ; 
 There's many a gallant gentleman 
 
 Whae's blood you have garr'd to spill." 
 
 Katherine Janfarie. 
 
 HE clamour of the riot rose upon 
 the night like the roar of an 
 angry sea. The clang of arms, 
 the tramp of horses' hoofs, the wild shriek 
 of the death-smitten, the infuriated yell 
 of the avenger, the loud shouts of the 
 Borderers, and all the confusion of noises 
 which a tempest of the fiercest of human
 
 84 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 passions produces, merged into one long 
 thunderous roar. 
 
 The tide surged wildly, as now the 
 Borderers were beaten back and again 
 made good their ground with the dogged 
 valour of men whose trade is strife. 
 
 The sound of the tumult echoed along 
 the valley of the Nith and startled the 
 monks of Lin-Cluden in their midnight 
 vigils, and possibly alarmed a few of the 
 good men who were softening the aus- 
 terities of their order with some stolen 
 indulgence. 
 
 In the town, lights flashed everywhere. 
 Presently the beacon fire on the tower of 
 the castle was kindled, and was soon 
 answered by signals from the surround- 
 ing heights and peels. The petty riot, 
 which had been so lightly raised, had 
 now swelled into the proportions of a 
 battle.
 
 THE RIOT* 85 
 
 Sir Hugh Janfarie, with the main detach- 
 ment of his followers, rode down upon the 
 combatants. He encountered Musgrave, 
 who explained as clearly as he could the 
 source of the quarrel ; and Sir Hugh, 
 sensible of the danger of the Hot Trod 
 being arrested in consequence of the brawl, 
 and of the probable reprisals the townsfolk 
 would make for what harm befel them, 
 rode into the hottest of the fight, endeavour- 
 ing to allay its fury. 
 
 But his words were unheard in the 
 prevailing turmoil, and his purpose was 
 misunderstood. The result of his attempted 
 peace-making was to increase the blind 
 rage of the burgesses. 
 
 Nicol, with the emblem of the Hot Trod, 
 rode close by his father. But the spear 
 was wrenched from his grasp, and the 
 burning sod was trampled underfoot; at 
 that the townsfolk raised a deafening cheer,
 
 86 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 renewing the assault more vigorously than 
 before. 
 
 They had many old scores to settle with 
 the Borderers, and they were not sorry to 
 find so favourable an opportunity to settle 
 some of them. Besides, blood had been 
 already spilled on both sides, and Janfarie's 
 mediation, which might have been of service 
 a little while ago, came too late when the 
 men were heated with action and thirsting 
 to avenge fallen comrades. 
 
 There was nothing for the Borderers to 
 do but keep close together and beat as 
 dignified a retreat as the circumstances 
 permitted. 
 
 Sir Hugh and Nicol cut their way 
 through the crowd to the side of Cochrane 
 and Richard, who were receiving rough 
 usage from a band of stout fellows, and 
 were being dragged towards the Town 
 House.
 
 THE RIOT. 87 
 
 The rescue was effected by a bold dash 
 and a fierce hacking down of every man 
 who attempted to bar the way of the old 
 knight to his son and friend. One fellow, 
 who wielded a Jeddart axe with strength 
 and address, made a sturdy stand, and 
 several times planted his blows with such 
 force, that, but for the careering of the 
 horse, he would have stricken the knight 
 to the ground. As if determined not to be 
 foiled, he sprang at the horse's head, 
 gripped the bridle, and swinging the axe, 
 brought it down with violence. But Sir 
 Hugh, bending forward, avoided the blade 
 of the axe by receiving the blow of the 
 shaft on his shoulder. The blow had been 
 given with so much force that the shaft 
 snapped in twain, the blade falling harm- 
 lessly to the ground. 
 
 Before the man could regain his balance, 
 or do more than utter a howl of chagrin at
 
 88 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 the adroitness which had foiled his effort, 
 Sir Hugh pierced him through the neck, 
 and he fell with a groan beneath the horse's 
 feet. 
 
 "My father!" shrieked a voice as the 
 man fell. The next instant a youth of 
 about eighteen years sprang with the 
 agility and fury of a wild cat upon Sir 
 Hugh, and with a sharp souter's knife, 
 stabbed him under the sword arm, which 
 was at the moment upraised. 
 
 The youth was beaten down by the 
 prickers' spears, and trampled upon by 
 their horses. 
 
 At the spectacle of this swift retaliation 
 on both sides, there arose a yell from the 
 townsfolk, wilder and more terrible than 
 any that had yet added its discord to the 
 raging elements of the night. There was 
 a pause, too, like the momentary stillness 
 which precedes the crash of a thunderbolt.
 
 THE RIOT. 89 
 
 Then it came ; a body of men drew close 
 together, and at a swinging trot, with arms 
 in rest, advanced upon the Borderers. 
 Steadily they moved with teeth set, and 
 in silence that seemed more terrible than 
 the wildest outcries. 
 
 Sir Hugh, on receiving the wound, had 
 fallen forward on the neck of his horse, 
 and would have fallen had not Richard 
 struggled to his side in time to steady him 
 in the saddle. 
 
 " You are hurt, sir," he said agitatedly. 
 
 " Avenge me," was the grim answer of 
 the knight. 
 
 Richard sprang upon the horse behind 
 him, and taking a firm hold of his sword 
 belt, contrived to hold him on the seat 
 whilst he snatched the sword from his 
 father's now powerless hand, and with it 
 met the determined onslaught of the towns- 
 men.
 
 90 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 " Steady, lads," shouted Cochrane, " and 
 withdraw to the bridge. There you will 
 be able to hold your ground against the 
 whole town of rebellious loons." 
 
 The Borderers formed in double line and 
 began to move slowly backward, contesting 
 every inch of ground. 
 
 "It is my father's sword," muttered 
 Eichard Janfarie between his clenched 
 teeth ; " and this night I will prove my- 
 self worthy to bear it." 
 
 Instead of retreating with his company, 
 he touched the horse with his heels, and 
 burst into the midst of the advancing foe, 
 hewing them down right and left with 
 such fury that he cleared a space and 
 threw them into some confusion. 
 
 But the crowd formed a circle round 
 him, cutting him off from his friends, who 
 were unaware of his danger. 
 
 Observing this, he made the horse wheel
 
 THE EIOT. 91 
 
 round, and again fought his way through 
 the mass, wielding the long sword of his 
 father with all the pith his thirst for ven- 
 geance inspired. 
 
 The people fell back more astounded by 
 the strange sight of the double burden of 
 the horse — one man apparently dead, and 
 the other animated as if with the rage of 
 a demon — more awed by this even than 
 his prowess. 
 
 They fell before him, they shrank from 
 him, and the confusion caused by his single 
 assault materially aided the Borderers in 
 reaching the bridge with unbroken line. 
 
 There the conflict was brought to a 
 sudden cessation by the appearance of 
 a band of the Grey Friars, who, headed 
 by their Superior, and each carrying a 
 flaming torch which revealed his holy 
 order, marched boldly between the opposing 
 lines of Borderers and townsmen, at the
 
 92 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 moment when, exhausted and wounded, 
 Richard Janfarie rejoined his comrades. 
 
 Mad as the people were with the events 
 which had transpired, they came to a halt 
 before the stern glances of the Friars. 
 
 The Superior commanded silence, and 
 the uproar gradually subsided like the 
 diminishing sound of an ebbing tide. 
 
 When silence had been obtained the 
 monk demanded an explanation of the 
 outrage upon the town's repose. 
 
 Twenty voices attempted to answer him 
 at once, but the Superior motioned them 
 to silence as Sir Robert Cochrane advanced 
 and made himself known. 
 
 He briefly explained the purpose of the 
 Borderers' entrance into the town, and the 
 manner in which the riot had been raised 
 by some foolish demands of the people, 
 made to him as a servant of the king at 
 that inopportune time, and with unmannerly 
 threats.
 
 THE RIOT. 93 
 
 "How his Majesty may think of this 
 matter when it is explained to him," he 
 added in conclusion, " I cannot say. But 
 this much I may tell you, that I believe 
 that the disturbance was raised in the first 
 place by the rascal we are pursuing, in 
 order to cover his own escape." 
 
 " Who is the man ? " queried the monk. 
 
 " Bertrand Gordon, called Laird of 
 Lamina:ton." 
 
 " Have you arrested him ? " 
 
 " No ; but he cannot be far hence, and 
 we must crave your protection whilst we 
 continue our search, and leave our wounded 
 to your care." 
 
 The Superior bowed in acquiescence, 
 saying : 
 
 "As you know the man, you will be 
 able to make him answer for his share in 
 this disturbance." 
 
 " By the Sacred Mother of Heaven,"
 
 94 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 cried Janfarie in a hollow voice, " he shall 
 answer that to me. Mj father is dead, and 
 to Lamington I look for an account of his 
 fate." 
 
 The young man had lifted the body from 
 the horse, purposing to staunch his wound, 
 when he had discovered that no aid of his 
 could serve him, and he was now kneeling 
 over his dead father as he made his vow of 
 retaliation. 
 
 Nicol was by his brother's side. Grrief 
 choked him, and he could not speak ; but 
 he pressed Richard's hand, in token that he 
 shared in his resolve. 
 
 The torches flickering and wavering in 
 the wind shed a red glare over the crowd, 
 and gleamed upon the breast of the rapid 
 flowing Nith as it sped onward to the 
 Solway, the stream beating against the 
 arches of the bridge as they impeded its 
 course, and murmuring a melancholy song,
 
 THE RIOT. 95 
 
 that at the moment seemed like a dirge for 
 the dead knight. 
 
 The light shone upon the grey-hooded 
 monks ; upon the gloomy visages of the 
 defeated Borderers as they stood wounded, 
 holding by the croups of their saddles, or 
 sat motionless in their seats with thoughts 
 of dire vengeance in their hearts. The 
 lights flashed on the now anxious faces 
 of the townsfolk as they stood in breath- 
 less awe at the weird sound the man's 
 voice had made, and already abashed by 
 the memory of what had occurred. 
 
 The sudden pause in the uproar which 
 had been rampant only a moment before, 
 the unsteady light cast over all by the 
 flaming links, and the stillness of the 
 night — for the very wind seemed to have 
 become hushed — imparted a solemnity to 
 the wild scene, and to the vow which 
 had just been spoken that subdued the
 
 96 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 passions of the men, and held them as if 
 spell-bonnd. 
 
 The eerie pause was broken by Richard 
 Janfarie starting to his feet, and directing 
 his followers to carry their chief to the 
 monastery. 
 
 In grim silence a litter of spears was 
 formed, and the body of the dead knight 
 placed upon it. In grim silence the men 
 with their sad burthen, headed by four 
 monks as torch-bearers, passed through the 
 crowd which made way for them, and 
 marched up the street to the monastery. 
 
 Then the people slowly turned to the 
 mournful task of seeking their wounded 
 and dead friends. Low moans and bitter 
 shrieks of anguish disturbed the night, as 
 wives, mothers, and sweethearts, now rush- 
 ing forth from their homes, encountered 
 friends bearing the lifeless remains of those 
 who were dearest to them, or recognized
 
 THE RIOT. 97 
 
 the mainstay of their households lying 
 disabled on the street. It was a sad night's 
 work for the bonnie town of Dumfries ; 
 and many hearts ached with the memory 
 of it long afterward. One of its saddest 
 incidents was connected with the man 
 who had so desperately assaulted Sir 
 Hugh, and whose fall had been the main 
 instrument of the knight's death. His wife 
 found her husband and son both slaii\ 
 and hideously disfigured by horses' hoofs. 
 With shrieks of despair she threw herself 
 upon the mangled bodies, kissing their 
 clotted lips, and calling to them by name 
 to rise. 
 
 She had to be forced away by some 
 kindly neighbours, who said that her 
 reason was affected. The man had been 
 a good husband, and the son who had 
 wrought such swift retribution for his 
 father's fall had been her only bairn. 
 
 7
 
 98 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 As soon as the body of Sir Hugh had 
 been lifted up, Cochrane grasped Richard's 
 arm. 
 
 " We cannot halt in the pursuit," 
 he said; "we must leave till we return 
 what marks of respect we owe your 
 father." 
 
 " I am ready," answered Janfarie, dourly. 
 
 " Pick a dozen of your best men, then, 
 to accompany us. The fewer we are the 
 more lightly we will follow the track. I 
 will not pause in the chase till he is cap- 
 tured." 
 
 " I shall not pause in the chase till he 
 is dead," was Janfarie's hollow response. 
 
 "Let it be such a death as he merits — 
 not that of honourable folk, but the gibbet 
 of a felon." 
 
 " It shall be the worst that I can find for 
 him when the hour comes." 
 
 Cochrane clasped his hand, peering in
 
 THE RIOT. 99 
 
 his face with a strange vicious gUtter in 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Let me guide your choice," he said, 
 greedily. " I know his spirit, and I know 
 where to strike him deepest. Let me guide 
 your choice in the atonement you would 
 wreak upon him, and I promise you that 
 you shall see him degraded, spurned, and 
 mocked at by those whose esteem he values 
 most — ay, by Saint Andrew, even by 
 Mistress Katherine herself. Then let him 
 swing on the highest tree at hand." 
 
 Janfarie caught the venomous glitter of 
 the man's eyes, and he did not altogether 
 relish it, embittered though he was to the 
 last degree against the subject of their 
 conversation. 
 
 " Such retribution as you purpose would 
 be worth tarrying for ; but I can promise 
 nought save this, that there is no torture 
 I would not put him to."
 
 100 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 " Enough. The memory of your father 
 will keep your purpose steady." 
 
 " That memory will feed my hate while 
 I have power to lift a hand." 
 
 Here Nicol, who had been scouring the 
 streets for stray or wounded followers, 
 rushed up to his brother. 
 
 *' We have missed them again," he 
 shouted. " They have crossed 'the river in 
 a boat." 
 
 " Who gave you these tidings ? " 
 
 " This fellow who has had a tussle with 
 Lamington, and who followed them to the 
 river bank." 
 
 " Get your men together," said Cochrane 
 hastily to Janfarie ; "we may have them 
 before the night is out yet. You, Nicol, 
 must hie to Linlithgow with tidings of this 
 treachery to his Majesty. We shall have 
 the highest authority of the land for what 
 we do."
 
 THE RIOT. 101 
 
 " By your leave, I would rather continue 
 in the chase," rejoined Nicol, disappointed 
 by the prospect of being removed from his 
 share in the pursuit. 
 
 Cochrane answered him with an air of 
 persuasive confidence, which flattered the 
 youth and modified his disappointment. 
 
 " Nay, but you must submit to this for 
 all our sakes. There is no other I can 
 trust to bear my message to the king*, 
 and it is from him only that I care to 
 seek assistance in this matter. There are 
 other reasons besides that his Majesty 
 should have early knowledge of this out- 
 rage," ' s 
 
 " Musgrave or Fenwick might go," said 
 Nicol, still hesitating ; they are my seniors, 
 and therefore better qualified to report the 
 affair to his Majesty." 
 
 Cochrane placed his hand on Nicol's 
 shoulder and whispered :
 
 102 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 " Ay, but there is a missive that must be 
 placed in the king's own hand, and I 
 would trust it to none other save you. 
 "Will you serve me ? " 
 
 " Since there is no help for it, I will." 
 
 " I shall owe you much for this service, 
 and I may have the power to pay it sooner 
 than you hope — trust me." 
 
 A few minutes sufficed for Cochrane to 
 give his now willing carrier the needful 
 instructions and the packet of which he 
 had spoken. By that time Janfarie had 
 selected his men, had got the leash of 
 hounds together, and arms had been ex- 
 amined. I 
 
 When Cochrane joined the party the 
 gates of the bridge were opened, and they 
 rode across in double file at a smart canter. 
 The pale starlight gleamed upon their steel 
 caps, and the bridge gave out a hollow 
 sound under the horses' hoofs. They rode
 
 THE KIOT. 103 
 
 steadily, and without a word passing 
 amongst them. 
 
 Every man was conscious that he was 
 engaged in a hunt which was to end only 
 at the death at the quarry.
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 THE PRIORY OF KELLS. 
 
 ' Sublime is the faith of a lonely soul. 
 
 In pain and trouble cherished ; 
 Sublime the spirit of hope that lives, 
 
 When earthly hope has perished." 
 
 Pkof. Wilson, Isle of Palms. 
 
 !HE riot had been at its height 
 when Lamington, with Kathe- 
 rine, had followed Will Craig 
 to the bank of the river where he had 
 the boat moored at a point nearly opposite 
 the water-gate of the monastery. They 
 were unaware that any had observed their 
 flight. But the man who had received
 
 THE PRIORY OF KELLS. 105 
 
 Will's last blow had seen them, had fol- 
 lowed them at a safe distance, and so 
 had been able to give intelligence of their 
 route. 
 
 They embarked ; Will pulled across the 
 stream, his giant arms making the oars fly 
 through the water, and carrying the boat a 
 little way up the stream in spite of the 
 strong current. 
 
 He pulled to the shore through a thick 
 bed of rushes at the western end of a short 
 row of houses which formed the nucleus of 
 Maxweltown. 
 
 The motion of the boat and the keen 
 breeze blowing upon her cheeks had re- 
 vived the lady, and she was able to spring 
 lightly to the land. Lamington led her 
 up the bank and then waited for Will, who 
 had stayed to make fast the boat to a huge 
 stone, having explained that he had found 
 it there, and " didna want the owner to be
 
 106 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 ony the waur for the liberty he had taen 
 wi' his cockleshell." 
 
 The tumult on the other side was ringing 
 in their ears, and Katherine clung closely 
 to her lover, disturbed by the wild sounds 
 she heard, although she knew that they 
 insured their present safety. 
 
 " Come on this gate now, maister," cried 
 Will, taking the direction of Lincluden. 
 
 "Where are the horses?" queried the 
 master. 
 
 " Stark's got them safe eneuch." 
 
 Almost as he spoke, he darted into a 
 thicket of trees ; and in a small open space 
 the fugitives saw two powerful horses tied 
 to the branch of a tree, whilst a huge black 
 hound sat on his haunches gravely watch- 
 ing them. 
 
 That was Stark. The hound sprang up 
 joyfully at the sight of Will, and en- 
 countered him with wagging tail.
 
 THE PRIORY OF KELLS. 107 
 
 " It's a richt," muttered Will. " Stark 
 never wags his tail when onybody has been 
 interferin' wi' him." 
 
 As Grordon looked to the girths of the 
 saddles he angrily inquired why the man 
 had left the horses there instead of bringing 
 them to the hostelry. 
 
 The big, simple-looking fellow, who had 
 the heart of a brave gentleman and the 
 mind of a child, scratched his head, looked 
 puzzledly at his master, then looked im- 
 ploringly at Katherine, and, last of all, 
 gazed down inquiringly at the upturned 
 face of his dog. 
 
 " Now, what would ye say to that, 
 Stark ? " he said, scratching away at his 
 head. The hound cocked his ears and bent 
 his head a little to one side, as if, with a 
 species of human intelligence, he were con- 
 sidering the problem set before him. 
 
 At any other moment Katherine would
 
 108 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 have been amused by the equal degree of 
 gravity on the faces of man and dog. 
 
 " Now, I just speir at you, Stark," Will 
 continued, " what would ye say ? He tells 
 me to be siccar and secret, and I thought 
 that I couldna be half sae secret wi' twa 
 horses at my heels as I could be my lane. 
 Sae I leave ye here to tak' care o' the brutes, 
 and that's siccar ; and syne I gang myseF 
 ower the watter, stealing a boat to do that, 
 sae that nae questions should be speired at 
 the brig, and I wait at the hostel without 
 saying a word to mortal body, and I count 
 a' that secret. But what do you think, 
 Stark, for a' that he is angry wi' me, and 
 says I am a gouk ? " 
 
 " Tut, man," said Lamington, who, know- 
 his servitor's ways, could bare]y restrain 
 a smile even at that moment of peril, " the 
 horses would not have told anyone your 
 business."
 
 THE PRIORY OF KELLS. 109 
 
 " Na ; but folk would hae seen them and 
 speired about tbem, and would maybe hae 
 kenned what airt they cam' frae. Eh, 
 Stark?" 
 
 The hound wagged his tail as if in 
 assent, and Muckle Will — as he was called 
 on account of his huge frame — closed one 
 of his eyes with an expression of great 
 cunning, but it was a very simple sort of 
 look for all that. 
 
 " Do not blame him," said Katherine ; 
 "he has served us well despite his mis- 
 take. We owe our present safety greatly 
 to him." 
 
 " Will is not afraid of my anger, and in 
 truth there is more reason in his explana- 
 tion than I expected. I am glad you have 
 so soon come to know his worth ; for, after 
 you, Katherine, there is no one I would not 
 rather lose than this simple fellow. Come 
 hither, Will."
 
 110 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 The tall, broad-shouldered simpleton ad- 
 vanced at the bidding, the hound marching 
 beside him. 
 
 Katherine laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 " If your master is not in the humour to 
 do it, Will, I thank you for the good service 
 you have done us." 
 
 The giant hung his head, abashed by her 
 earnestness, and removing his bonnet, 
 began to swing it awkwardly in his hands. 
 
 " Look up, Will," said his master ; " look 
 well at this lady that you may know her, 
 for you must serve her as truly in all things 
 as you would serve me." 
 
 As every sentiment, as well as his ser- 
 vice, was at the command of his master, 
 Will's bashfulness disappeared. He looked 
 steadily at the lady's face, which the star- 
 light revealed to him. Then he said 
 shyly— 
 
 " Ye are a bonnie lady, and Stark and
 
 THE PRIORY OF KELLS. Ill 
 
 me will serve you truly. See what he 
 says ; speak for yoursel', Stark. Speak to 
 the lady, and tell her ye'll do her bidding." 
 
 The hound walked round Katherine 
 twice, and then, stopping beside her, laid 
 his head on her hand. She patted him, 
 and the dog wagged his tail in joyful 
 acknowledgment. 
 
 "That's a richt," said Will, "Stark 
 and you will be great friends, and by 
 the same rule you and me will be great 
 friends." 
 
 Apparently satisfied with that compact, 
 the giant led the horses out of the thicket. 
 
 Lamington wrapped the drover's plaid 
 round Katherine, assisted her to mount 
 one of the horses, and sprang on to the 
 other himself. 
 
 " Follow, Will, with what speed you 
 may, to the Priory of Kells. You know 
 our pursuers ; take heed that none of them 
 lay hold of you."
 
 112 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 " Aye, weel, they wad just hae to let go 
 again," was Will's resigned response. 
 
 The horses started, and Will with his 
 hound watched them until they had dis- 
 appeared amongst the black shadows of the 
 wood which belted the road for several 
 miles. 
 
 Then he gripped his heavy cudgel tightly, 
 and followed at a swinging pace, sustaining 
 a lively conversation with Stark all the 
 time. It was like the prattle with which 
 a child is accustomed to commune with its 
 pets ; but through it all there were flashes 
 of shrewdness which would have suggested 
 that the man was amusing himself, rather 
 than giving vent to his natural character. 
 
 The horses upon which the fugitives 
 were now mounted were fresh, and stretched 
 to their work with spirit. They swept by 
 the Abbey of Lincluden in which the vestal 
 light was burning and shedding a spectral
 
 THE PRIORY OF KELLS. 113 
 
 gleam through the trees. They sped down 
 the valley, and through the glens by Loch- 
 inkit. Then skirting Upper Bar and 
 CrogO;, they rose upon the high land ; and 
 the white crested heads of the Galloway 
 hills became visible against the horizon. 
 
 The country stretched like a rolling sea 
 before them. Now they rose upon the 
 brow of some bare height, with the dark 
 highlands looming up before them ; again 
 they were closed in the hollow of some 
 bossy glen, the darkness lending fantastic 
 shapes to jutting boulders of rock, or 
 waving ash, or stunted thorn, with the 
 sound of gurgling water making a weird 
 melody in the night. 
 
 But over all there was an eerie sense of 
 silence caught from the grand solitude of 
 the hills. 
 
 There were streams and rivers to cross, 
 morasses to avoid, and treacherous preci- 
 
 8
 
 114 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 pices, whose lips were concealed by furze 
 and heather, to evade. But a keen eye, a 
 steady hand, and sure-footed horses, carried 
 the fugitives safely through all the journey. 
 At length the dim outline of the Forest 
 of Kells became perceptible. The forest 
 had been erected into a royal hunting- 
 ground by the Bruce, and was a favourite 
 resort of the Scottish monarchs for the 
 pleasures of the chase. The memory of its 
 ancient glory is still preserved in several of 
 its local names. Tradition, too, has much 
 of interest to tell of the Druid stones which 
 lie upon the surrounding heights ; the 
 murder holes which are found in the table 
 lands, and which were anciently used by 
 the barons who had the right of putting 
 offenders to death by pit and gibbet — that 
 is, by drowning and smothering them in the 
 pits, or hanging them on the nearest tree — 
 and of the old wall called the Deil's Dyke.
 
 THE PRIORY OF KELLS. 115 
 
 ' ' The Priory of Kells was a small estab- 
 lishment, which had been given in free 
 alms to the Archdeacon of Galloway by 
 Eobert Bruce, and which obtained some 
 importance as an occasional resting-place 
 of the royal party when engaged in the 
 chase. The building stood at one of the 
 mouths of the forest ; it was square and 
 bare, but it had the strength of a feudal 
 tower. • 
 
 When the fugitives drew rein at the 
 gate, the bell was sounding for early matins ; 
 but it was some time before Lamington's 
 summons was answered. 
 
 The gatekeeper at length showed himself, 
 and Lamington announced that he was 
 there by tryst with the Abbot Panther. 
 That name having been repeated, the man 
 opened the gate. The visitors were con- 
 ducted across a grass court to the entrance 
 to the Prior's house.
 
 116 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 There the mention of the Abbot's name 
 had the effect of procuring them immediate 
 admission. They were conducted to a 
 small waiting-room with bare walls and a 
 small grated window. It was lit by a 
 small cruzie, standing in a niche in the 
 wall, and furnished with a couple of chairs 
 and a reading-desk. They had not to wait 
 long. A hooded monk appeared, and led 
 Gordon to the presence of the Abbot, whilst 
 Katherine was left alone. 
 
 The same monk again entered the wait- 
 ing-room after the lapse of a little time, 
 bearing a lighted cruzie in his hand. He 
 beckoned the lady to follow him, and she 
 obeyed. 
 
 They passed along a narrow corridor, the 
 bare grey walls of which, feebly illumed by 
 the lamp in the monk's hand, looked so 
 cold and dismal that it was more like the 
 hall of a prison than that of the residence 
 of a church dignitary.
 
 THE PRIORY OF KELLS. 117 
 
 They ascended a narrow staircase and 
 entered another passage similar to the first. 
 At the farther end of this passage the monk 
 threw open a door. 
 
 " This is your chamber, sister ; here 
 you may rest for the present," said the 
 monk. 
 
 He handed the light to her, and without 
 waiting for any thanks or question, de- 
 parted with noiseless steps. ^ 
 
 Although Katherine was sorely be- 
 wildered by the manner of her monkly 
 chamberlain, and by the continued absence 
 of her lover, she made no effort to satisfy 
 her curiosity; for she was too much 
 fatigued by her journey and too much 
 awed by the grimness of the place and the 
 solemn stillness pervading it — a stillness 
 broken only by the subdued chant of the 
 monks at their morning exercise in the 
 Priory Chapel. She entered the chamber
 
 118 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 and closed the door. Like the other apart- 
 ments she had seen, the walls were bare ; 
 the furniture consisted of a table with a 
 missal, a priedieu and a crucifix, and a low 
 narrow couch. After an earnest supplica- 
 tion for pardon for whatever error she had 
 committed, and for the happiness of those 
 from whom she had fled, she laid herself, 
 dressed as she was, on the couch. Sleep 
 soon brought a blissful oblivion to all the 
 anxieties and fatigues of the night. 
 ***** 
 
 The sun gleamed in through the narrow 
 window of Katherine's chamber and she 
 wakened wearily from her sleep. She had 
 been dreaming of her brother Richard — 
 dreaming that he had come to her dressed 
 in a shroud, and had stretched forth skeleton 
 hands towards her warningly. 
 
 She lay half awake now, her eyes twink- 
 ling under the ray of sunlight that was
 
 THE PRIORY OF KELLS. 119 
 
 crossing them, and fancying that she heard 
 her brother's voice pronouncing her name. 
 The sound echoed strangely in her ears, and 
 in a half conscious way she tried to argue 
 with herself that the sound existed only 
 in her dream. But it was suddenly re- 
 peated with such sharp emphasis that with 
 a smothered cry she sprang from the 
 couch. 
 
 Her startled eyes became fixed upon 
 Eichard Janfarie who stood by the door, 
 pale and worn by exertion, but with a 
 stern, relentless expression that chilled her 
 blood. More, however, than his stern 
 visage, more than the surprise of discover- 
 ing him there, her eyes were attracted and 
 her mind appalled by the black badge 
 which he wore on his right arm. A 
 thousand wild fancies flashed upon her 
 mind at once, but none explained the mean- 
 ing of that grim badge; her heart beat quick
 
 120 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 and her limbs trembled as she gazed 
 alternately upon it and tlie man's face. 
 
 He remained silent, as if conscious of her 
 torturing doubts, and willing to leave her 
 to them for a space. 
 
 She roused herself with a violent effort, 
 and pointing with trembling finger to 
 his badge, she spoke in a terrified whisper : 
 
 " Why do you wear that ? " 
 
 He advanced a step into the apartment, 
 and halted in a position which permitted 
 the rays of the sun to fall directly on 
 his arm. 
 
 " I wear this for our father," he said, 
 slowly. 
 
 " My father !" she cried, while she sprang 
 towards him and grasped his arm ; "is he 
 dead?" 
 
 Bichard shook her hand from him with 
 the scorn of one who feels that he is pol- 
 luted by a touch.
 
 THE PKTORY OF KELLS. l21 
 
 " Ay, he is dead — he has been murdered ; 
 and you, mistress, and Lamington are his 
 assassins." 
 
 The scorn with which he had flung her 
 from him made her shrink back a pace with 
 tingling cheeks. His scorn she would 
 have resented, but the accusation he had 
 made struck her speechless. She stood 
 mutely gazing at him, unable to realize the 
 full import of his words. » 
 
 Her silence enraged him. 
 
 " Are you so callous that you are not 
 moved even by the tidings of the foul work 
 which has been done ? Are you so heartless 
 that even your father's murder cannot make 
 you sensible of your shame ? " 
 
 " My father dead — and by foul work ! " 
 she muttered, absently, and in a low tone 
 of anguish ; " and you charge Lamington 
 with the crime — oh, you are mad, Eichard I 
 or you are trying to frighten me that you
 
 122 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 may force me to yield myself to Eobert 
 Coclirane." 
 
 And slie sank upon the couch, cover- 
 ing her face with her hands and sobbing 
 bitterly. 
 
 " I have no need to frighten you to yield 
 to your husband. He is here with power 
 to enforce his right to control you ; and I 
 am here to conduct you to the Abbot's 
 Court, where you will learn your duty from 
 fitter lips than mine, and where you 
 shall have proofs of Lamington's guilt."
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 THE SUMMONS. 
 
 " Upraise she trembling frae her seat, ♦ 
 
 And tottered like to fa' ; 
 Her cheek grew like the rose, and then 
 Turned whiter than the snaw." 
 
 Lady Jean. 
 
 JSTEAUGHT by the declaration 
 of lier brother, doubting its 
 truth, and yet compelled to 
 give it credence by the bitter earnestness 
 of his manner, Katherine sat dumbly look- 
 ing at him. Her sobs had ceased now ; for, 
 although the first sharp pangs the intelli- 
 gence of her father's death caused her had
 
 124 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 wrung from her a woman's tears, the grave 
 charge which accompanied the tidings, and 
 the intimation of Cochrane's presence for 
 the purpose of enforcing his hateful claims, 
 stirred the spirit of resistance within her, 
 and for the moment grief was overcome by 
 indignation. 
 
 Still there was an undercurrent of con- 
 tending emotions which she could not 
 control. Her heart revolted from the bare 
 thought of the guilt attributed to Laming- 
 ton, whilst it was filled with anguish at 
 the consciousness that by whatever hand 
 her father had fallen, her flight had led 
 him to his death. Besides, Gordon had 
 been some time away from her while they 
 had been at the hostelry in Dumfries, and 
 sorely pressed by her father's followers, 
 obliged to strike for his own life, it was 
 possible that in the darkness or in the con- 
 fusion of the struggle his hand might have
 
 THE SUMMONS. 125 
 
 stricken the fatal blow. That was the 
 doubt which lingered in her mind and 
 constrained her indignation. It weakened 
 her, notwithstanding the strength she 
 obtained from her conviction of Laming- 
 ton's innocence in intention at least, and 
 from the shuddering repugnance with 
 which she had now come to regard the 
 very name of Cochrane. 
 
 She rose slowly from the couch, her 
 hands clasped, and her features fixed. But 
 she made no movement to approach her 
 brother. She spoke in a low soft tone, in 
 which there was a piteous chord of pain. 
 
 "You give me sad news, brother — the 
 sadder in that if it be true my father is 
 dead, I am robbed of the hope I held that 
 one day I would satisfy him and our dear 
 mother — and all of you that in my dis- 
 obedience I had spared you much misery." 
 
 Her evident distress was not without its
 
 126 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 effect upon him, for Janfarie liad a kindly 
 regard for his sister, although he could not 
 pardon the measure she had taken to 
 thwart the designs and aspirations of their 
 house. He had all his mother's ambition, 
 and Cochrane had proffered him the op- 
 portunity to carry that ambition to its 
 highest bent. His mind had been dazzled 
 by the prospect thus presented to him; 
 and in proportion to the brilliance of the 
 prospect he was blinded to the real nature 
 of the magician who presented it, whilst 
 he became insensible to the tenderer and 
 nobler feelings which had driven his sister 
 to rebellion. He saw in her conduct only 
 the perversity of a silly woman, and so he 
 made answer harshly : 
 
 " Then you will satisfy us that we have 
 all been fools, and yours the only head 
 with a grain of wisdom amongst us. Your 
 shame will serve us to good purpose if it 
 can do that."
 
 THE SUMMONS. 127 
 
 She winced; her brow became flushed 
 and her eyes kindled, but she spoke sadly : 
 
 " You have driven me to what error I 
 may have done. You counted it no sacri- 
 fice to make me the price of a knave's 
 favour. In spite of every prayer and 
 appeal I made, you dragged me to the 
 altar. You took no thought of the years 
 of agony to which you were dooming me ; 
 you took no thought of the death to which 
 you condemned me when you told me I 
 was his wife ; for if my loathing for the 
 bonds you had thrust upon me— if Eobert 
 Cochrane's touch had not been enough to 
 kill me, my own hand would have released 
 me." 
 
 " I would have pitied you had you been 
 released so ; but now you have made your- 
 self a thing of scorn." 
 
 " You will learn to think otherwise yet, 
 Eichard. At present you are smarting
 
 128 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 under the memory of our father's death; 
 you do not see that Cochrane has cajoled 
 you — ^that he is fooling you." 
 
 " By the saints, if I thought that," 
 muttered Janfarie, frowning darkly, and 
 then checking himself; "but shame upon 
 me to give ear to such words from a mad 
 wench who has disgraced her family for 
 the sake of a popinjay. Attend me, mis- 
 tress, to the Abbot's court without more 
 delay." 
 
 " I will attend you presently," she 
 answered, quietly ; " give me a moment to 
 prepare myself for this trial — for such I 
 count the interview to which you command 
 me is to be." 
 
 Janfarie turned on his heel and with- 
 drew, taking his stand outside the door to 
 guard against any attempt of his sister to 
 elude him. 
 
 After a moment's pause, during which
 
 THE SUMMONS. 129 
 
 she looked dazedly at the closed door, she 
 threw herself upon her knees on the 
 priedieu, and bowing her head low she 
 raised her clasped hands in supplication. 
 
 She had maintained her composure 
 during the presence of her brother ; but 
 now that she was alone all the contending 
 emotions of her breast struggled for utter- 
 ance, and overwhelmed her. The death of 
 her father, the accusation of Lamingtoi;, 
 and the consciousness of her own share in 
 these miserable events, supplied her with 
 bitter thoughts, for which there was no 
 outlet save in prayer. 
 
 She seemed calmer when she regained 
 her feet, and able to think of the more 
 immediate necessities of the occasion. She 
 hastily removed the garments which the 
 friendly hostess of the Royal Hunt had 
 supplied for her disguise ; and as they had 
 been only thrown over her own dress, she 
 
 9
 
 130 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 had merely to cast them aside to appear in 
 apparel more becoming her position, al- 
 though its bravery was still in sad con- 
 trast to the circumstances surrounding 
 her. 
 
 She adjusted her bodice, and the skirts 
 which had been tucked up. Then with her 
 hands she smoothed her hair as well as 
 she could with such primitive toilet instru- 
 ments, and without a mirror ; for, woman- 
 like, she wished to present herself in as 
 becoming a guise as possible before the 
 Abbot, upon whose word all her future 
 happiness and the very life of her lover 
 seemed at this moment to depend. 
 
 Slight as the change was, it was enough 
 with her natural charms to transform a 
 rustic lass into a dignified lady. She had 
 need of all her courage to meet the 
 emergency calmly. When she joined her 
 brother, it was with a bearing of quiet
 
 THE SUMMONS. 131 
 
 dignity that was not without its effect 
 even upon him. 
 
 He conducted her to the basement of the 
 building, and as she passed along the hall, 
 one of the windows permitted her a glimpse 
 of the horses and the Borderers waiting in 
 the square without. 
 
 She experienced a thrill of dismay, as 
 this discovery reminded her of the power 
 against which she had to do battle. 
 
 Her brother, however, was not permitted 
 to observe anything of the alarm she felt. 
 Her features remained pale and almost 
 rigid. 
 
 The chamber in which the Abbot had 
 appointed to hold his impromptu court 
 was the principal one of the Priory ; and 
 as it belonged to the suite set apart for the 
 king during his sojourn in the forest, it 
 was furnished with some taste, and even 
 with a degree of luxury. It had six win-
 
 132 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 dows of a larger size than any others in 
 the building, and the recesses which they 
 formed displayed the great thickness of 
 the walls. In these recesses, and immedi- 
 ately beneath the casements, were stone 
 seats long enough to accommodate three 
 persons. The walls were hung with 
 tapestry, and a number of couches and 
 chairs covered with velvet gave the apart- 
 ment a rich and comfortable appearance^ 
 which was almost enough to have caused 
 one who had been tarrying in the other 
 apartments of the Priory to think that he 
 had suddenly stepped out of the cold 
 regions of poverty into those of wealth. 
 
 Between the central windows was placed, 
 on a slightly-raised platform, a huge oaken 
 chair, curiously carved and surmounted by 
 a mitre and a crown. The seat and back 
 were covered with ruby silk. As if to 
 subdue the light admitted by the first
 
 THE SUMMOi^g. 133 
 
 windows on the right and left of this 
 chair, heavy curtains were drawn across 
 them. By this means the face of the 
 person who might occupy this seat of 
 honour was almost entirely concealed from 
 those who might stand before him, whilst 
 every change in their countenances would 
 be revealed by the light which fell full 
 upon them. 
 
 Entering this apartment from the dim 
 passages which she had traversed, Kathe- 
 rine's eyes were dazzled by the sun's rays, 
 so that for an instant the place seemed to 
 be unoccupied. But presently her eyes 
 became accustomed to the light, and she 
 observed a man advancing towards her 
 from the shadow of one of the curtained 
 windows. 
 
 She drew back as she recognized Coch- 
 rane. 
 
 Her movement was one of repugnance,
 
 134 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 not of fear ; and Sir Robert noting and 
 comprehending it, halted with brows knit, 
 and his cunning eyes fixed searchingly 
 upon her. 
 
 "You have given us a long ride, 
 madam," he said, poHtely, but with an 
 air of severity ; " I trust that you may be 
 sufficiently fatigued by this time to be in a 
 humour to listen to the counsels of those 
 whose honour you are debasing, and to 
 whom you are bound by most solemn 
 bonds." 
 
 With a shudder of disgust she turned 
 sharply upon her brother. 
 
 " You summoned me hither to meet the 
 lord Abbot," she said, haughtily, " and 
 your trick has served you so far that it 
 has brought me unprotected into this man's 
 presence ; but it can serve you no further. 
 Stand aside, Richard Janfarie, and let me 
 pass."
 
 THE SUMMONS. 135 
 
 She spoke with so much dignity and 
 authority that her brother appeared to 
 hesitate. 
 
 " Stand aside," she repeated, " you are 
 no friend of mine. I now understand the 
 lies with which you have alarmed me ; and 
 my word upon it, brother, I am as full of 
 sorrow to know you the base instrument 
 of this man as I am full of shame for the 
 extremity to which you have forced me." 
 
 " I have spoken truth in all that I have 
 said, as you will soon discover," he an- 
 swered, gloomily. 
 
 Before she could make any comment a 
 signal from Cochrane caused her brother to 
 retire, closing the door behind him, and 
 locking it as she knew by the click the 
 bolt made in shooting into the lock. 
 
 " Richard — brother, do not leave me — 
 for the Sacred Mother's sake do not leave 
 me with him," she cried, running to the
 
 136 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 door and vainly attempting to force it 
 open. 
 
 Her efforts to escape were futile, and her 
 cries were unanswered. 
 
 Cochrane, as if perfectly secure in his 
 position, waited patiently until she had 
 exhausted her attempts to open the door. 
 Then he advanced, and courteously, but 
 with firm bearing, conducted her to a 
 couch and bade her be seated. 
 
 She saw that opposition was useless, and 
 she submitted, waiting with considerable 
 trepidation the upshot of this interview 
 into which she had been trepanned, but 
 wearing upon her brow a flush of indig- 
 nation which concealed her fears and 
 rather added to the beauty of her counte- 
 nance than otherwise.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AT BAY. 
 
 " And lie lias gained my mother's ear — 
 My father's stern command ; 
 Yet this fond heart can ne'er be his, • 
 
 Although he claim my hand." 
 
 Lady Jean, 
 
 OCHRANE paused, as if to give 
 her time to collect herself. His 
 manner was that of extreme 
 courtesy, and the sneering smile to which 
 his lips were so well accustomed had en- 
 tirely given place to an expression of grave 
 concern. He remained standing before 
 her, his hands lightly crossed behind him, 
 whilst he scanned her features narrowly.
 
 138 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 "Now, madam," he said at length, 
 " now that our game at hide-and-seek is 
 brought to a close, and that we are alone 
 together, we have an opportunity of 
 coming to an understanding." 
 
 He spoke in a very low tone, as if afraid 
 of any one overhearing him ; but indeed 
 it was his custom at all times to speak in 
 a very mellow, persuasive voice. 
 
 " That understanding is soon reached," 
 she rejoined, firmly. " You have forced 
 upon me an honour. Sir Robert Cochrane, 
 which you were well aware was loathsome 
 to me. I have surely proved my scorn for 
 it ; and now I seek only an audience of 
 the Abbot to obtain release from whatever 
 bonds my helplessness permitted you to 
 fasten upon me." 
 
 She partly rose, but a movement of his 
 hand warned her to remain seated. 
 
 " The bonds you speak of, mistress, are
 
 AT BAY. 139 
 
 not so lightly broken as you would seem 
 to think. That you will test for yourself. 
 His lordship will be here presently, and 
 you shall learn from his lips the truth of 
 what I say." 
 
 " Till then, sir, spare me your presence." 
 
 " I have no wish to intrude it upon you 
 further than the circumstances warrant. 
 But before his lordship comes — before you 
 compel me to use the last measures to 
 bring you to a sense of duty, I would fain 
 try gentler means to make you feel that 
 your own happiness, and that of those who 
 should be dear to you, is endangered by 
 your wilfulness." 
 
 "I have decided, sir, which way my 
 happiness lies, and no words of yours will 
 move me." 
 
 Her contempt, expressed in every tone 
 and look, did not disturb him ; he remained 
 to the last degree resolutely polite, and he
 
 140 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 even affected a tone of regret which made 
 his conduct appear less cruel than it other- 
 wise would have done. 
 
 " It is, madam, because I respect your 
 judgment that I have insisted upon this 
 interview. You must hear me." 
 
 " Since your courtesy leaves me no 
 option, I listen," she said, sarcastically. 
 
 " That is well for all our sakes. You 
 must first understand my real position in 
 the events which have so stirred your ire 
 against me. Since it is likely to displease 
 you, I would say nothing of the regard for 
 you with which your — will you permit me 
 to say it? — beauty inspired me, and more 
 even than that, the deep respect with 
 which I was filled in discovering the high 
 qualities of your mind. Of all this I 
 would say nothing, so anxious am I to 
 spare you any annoyance, were it not that 
 it must be referred to in order to show you
 
 AT BAY. 141 
 
 tlie real extent of my blame in wliat lias 
 passed." 
 
 She inclined her head haughtily, but did 
 not speak. He continued : 
 
 "Your father sought my aid to rescue his 
 possessions from escheatment. I rendered 
 him that service, and he desired to requite 
 me. In that desire your family was 
 united ; and I told them that they could 
 make no requital save with your hand^ 
 That was readily promised to me, and, 
 indeed, my offer was accepted as in some 
 measure a further advantage to your house, 
 by all save yourself." 
 
 " And I gave you reasons which should 
 have satisfied a man of honour." 
 
 " They would have satisfied me had they 
 not been answered by the counter reasons 
 of your friends. You will forgive me 
 when I say that the passion you had 
 roused made me perhaps too willing to
 
 142 IX LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 accept any explanation which would permit 
 me to persevere in my suit." 
 
 His iteration of the nature of his esteem 
 for her became unbearable. 
 
 "You mean that the purpose you had 
 to serve made you resolute to persevere, 
 indifferent to what sorrow a mere woman 
 might endure." 
 
 " Purpose ! " he exclaimed, raising his 
 heavy eyebrows, " what purpose could I 
 have other than yourself presented to me ? 
 You had no wealth of lands or gold to 
 bring me." 
 
 "But my father had kinsmen, had 
 followers whose arms might be of valu- 
 able service to you in the crooked paths 
 through which your policy winds to 
 favour." 
 
 The clearness of her vision into his 
 motives and the sharpness with which 
 she laid them bare, produced a pause, but
 
 AT BAY. 143 
 
 he was too well skilled in the command 
 of his countenance to permit it to display 
 the least change. 
 
 " I see your prejudice enables you to 
 misconstrue me at every turn. Had I 
 sought only a powerful ally, I think a 
 more powerful one than the Janfarie's 
 might have been found in Scotland — with 
 the hand of a dame more kindly to my 
 deserts." , 
 
 There was a touch of injured honesty in 
 his manner, but Katherine's repugnance 
 was too keen for her to be deceived 
 by it. 
 
 " I am content to wish your choice had 
 been made more in accordance with your 
 merits, sir," she responded ; " and so be- 
 seech you to proceed with what brevity you 
 may, and release me from this thraldom." 
 
 He bit his lips and bowed. 
 
 "Your wish, madam, shall be obeyed.
 
 144 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 I yielded tlien to my own desire and the 
 arguments of yonr family. I became 
 persuaded tliat your attachment to a ruined 
 and absent gentleman was a girlish fancy 
 which would disappear as soon as you 
 became aware that your parents were bent 
 upon our union." 
 
 " Because you would not release them 
 from a hasty promise given in the heat of 
 gratitude." 
 
 " Again you misinterpret and compel me 
 to remind you that the marriage was as 
 much desired by those to whom you were 
 bound to render obedience as by myself." 
 
 " Say on." 
 
 " These were the grounds on which I, 
 unhappily for myself, rejected your appeal, 
 and permitted the matter to go forward. 
 I am still convinced that had not your gay 
 gallant appeared upon our bridal day you 
 would have been content to bear the
 
 AT BAY. 145 
 
 honours it was in my power to bestow on 
 you as Lady Cochrane." 
 
 " You are mistaken, for I had prepared 
 a means of release should I be driven to the 
 last extremity." 
 
 " And pray what were the means which 
 were so well concealed from all others ? " 
 
 " Death." 
 
 " Tush ! — that is the merest babble of a 
 silly child. You would have been wiser^ 
 credit me." 
 
 " I pray that you may never have it in 
 your power to put me to the test." 
 
 " I trust that aught I may do will never 
 form so harsh a test of your obduracy, 
 madam, for it can have no better name. 
 Had I known in time my person was so 
 hateful to you I would have held myself in 
 poor esteem if I had prosecuted my cause. 
 Even now I would freely release you were 
 it not that all Scotland knows you as my 
 
 10
 
 14B IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 bride. To relinquisli you now would be to 
 present myself to the world as a coward 
 and a fool — to be laughed and jeered at as 
 a dishonoured man unworthy of the name 
 and title he bears." 
 
 Her heart palpitated, for he spoke in 
 a cold hard voice, indicative not only of 
 his resolution but also of his power to en- 
 force it. 
 
 " What would you do ? " she asked, bend- 
 ing forward with anxious gaze. 
 
 " I would first endeavour, for the love 
 I bear you, to persuade you from the mad 
 course on which you have ventured." 
 
 " And that faiHng ? " 
 
 " Then, madam, I must compel you, for 
 my own reputation's sake, to renounce your 
 present folly, and to go with me to the 
 home I have provided for you. There 
 I will endeavour to forget your escapade, 
 and will adopt such measures to prevent
 
 AT BAY. 147 
 
 a repetition of it as your conduct may 
 render necessary." 
 
 " You think it is in your power, then, to 
 compel me ? " 
 
 " I am sure of it." 
 
 Her cheeks were tingling with the min- 
 gled sensations of shame and rage. 
 
 *' And I am as sure that you will fail." 
 
 " Sick children and the insane, madam, 
 dread the physician who labours to sav^ 
 them," he retorted, with a cold smile. 
 
 " But I am neither a sick child nor an 
 insane woman." 
 
 " Then you will be guided by reason, 
 and you will resume something of the 
 discretion you have so far set at defiance. 
 If you be sane you cannot wish to remain 
 longer under the protection of one whose 
 treachery has destroyed your father." 
 
 " It is false." 
 
 " You wish to believe it so ; but you
 
 148 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 cannot surely deny tlie testimony of your 
 brothers and your kinsmen, Musgrave and 
 Fenwick, however lightly you may value 
 mine." 
 
 " It cannot be true," she murmured in a 
 low voice that was like a moan, and press- 
 ing her hands on her brow, overcome by 
 the calm assurance with which he made 
 the assertion. 
 
 " It is sadly too true," he proceeded, 
 eagerly taking advantage of her distress in 
 the hope that it would help to bring her to 
 submission : " the guilt rests wholly on 
 Lamington's head, and he will speedily 
 have to answer it, and other matters, before 
 the Lords of the Council." 
 
 " Ah ! " she cried, her face brightening, 
 " he will prove himself blameless." 
 
 "It is impossible, unless crime can 
 change its nature. He will be condemned." 
 
 " It will be by forsworn judges, then,
 
 AT BAY. 149 
 
 and I will know where to find tlieir in- 
 stigator." 
 
 " Would you liave your father's assassin 
 escape ? Is there no drop of the Janfarie 
 blood in your veins that calls out for ven- 
 geance ? " 
 
 "No; I seek no vengeance. I am con- 
 tent with justice." 
 
 " And that you shall have, I swear to 
 you ; but you must yourself render justice 
 to others." 
 
 " In what, and to whom ? " 
 
 " To me, whom you have so bitterly 
 wronged, that a whole life's submission 
 would be poor atonement. You owe justice 
 to me, whose head is bowed under the 
 disgrace you have wrought me." 
 
 He spoke with an affectation of frank- 
 ness and injured dignity which was suffi- 
 ciently effective upon an honourable nature 
 such as hers to make her keenly sensible
 
 150 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 tliat the man had suffered some wrong at 
 her hands. 
 
 She was abashed and silent. 
 
 He saw his advantage, and was not 
 slow to avail himself of it to the nttermost. 
 
 " I have explained onr position," he con- 
 tinued, in the same strain. " I have told 
 you why I must persist in thrusting upon 
 you a duty which seems so little to your 
 liking, and from which I would therefore 
 gladly release you, but that in doing so 
 I must go and hide my head in some ob- 
 scure corner of the earth, and forego the 
 brilliant prospect which is almost now 
 within my grasp. Surely, madam, you 
 cannot blame me for my persistence under 
 these circumstances ?" 
 
 He paused, as if expecting her to speak ; 
 but she could not yet. She was too much 
 confused and troubled by the new light in 
 which her conduct appeared to her; and
 
 AT BAY. 151 
 
 she averted her face to conceal the agita- 
 tion expressed there. 
 
 As he observed this a scarcely perceptible 
 glimmer of trimnph crossed his face, and 
 he went on — 
 
 " I am aware that I am no dame's cheva- 
 lier, and that I am perhaps too abstracted 
 — too deeply busied in the great affairs of 
 state ever to make a wooer who will tickle 
 a romantic girl's ear with honeyed mouth- 
 ings. But I am no goblin either, I trust. 
 There is no deformity in my person, no 
 cloven hoof to shock the eye ; and if I 
 cannot make soft speeches, I can at least 
 render you honourable services." 
 
 " I do not doubt it, sir ; " but " 
 
 " Nay, do not qualify so small an admis- 
 sion. I am prepared to forget what has 
 passed, and I will use what skill I may 
 command to stifle the rumours which have 
 already got afloat to your discredit. I will
 
 152 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 stand between you and the tongue of 
 scandal ; I will win honours for you that 
 shall place you so high that no envious 
 breath shall tarnish your good name. I 
 stand so well in the king's favour, that 
 there is no dignity your heart can crave 
 that I will not obtain for you." 
 
 " Enough, sir, enough ; these are things 
 to move an ambitious mind, but they can- 
 not change a faithful heart." 
 
 But he would not be stayed ; he believed 
 she was yielding, and that her protestations 
 were the surest indications of it. 
 
 " Already the first earldom of our 
 nobility — the title which stands next to 
 the throne itself — the earldom of Mar, 
 which the king's younger brother bore, is 
 at my disposal. Within a few days it will 
 be mine, and you shall share it. As 
 Countess of Mar you will forget the 
 childish passion which has made you so
 
 AT BAY. 153 
 
 indiscreet, and in time, Katherine, yon will 
 learn to think of me even with some small 
 favour." 
 
 Moved by the fervency of his own 
 speech, and misinterpreting her confusion, 
 he approached her and attempted to take 
 her hand. But with a half-smothered cry 
 of alarm she sprang away from him. 
 
 " Do not touch me," she cried, breath- 
 lessly, her eyes flashing indignation upon 
 him. "AH that you have said serves no 
 better purpose than to show me how little 
 you can esteem a woman's nature. Were 
 it in your power to elevate me to the 
 throne itself, so near to which you offer to 
 place me, I would reject your proposal. I 
 have told you that nothing can move me 
 from my resolution to share the good or ill- 
 fortune of him to whom my troth was 
 pledged long ago ; and you, sir, must hold 
 my fidelity at slight value in thinking that
 
 154 ' IN LOVE AND WAK. 
 
 you can purchase it with titles that would 
 be to me only the badges of my own false- 
 hood." 
 
 His features were for an instant distorted 
 with rage and chagrin ; but the next 
 instant his countenance was calm. 
 
 " You are determined, then, to force me 
 to my last resource ? " 
 
 " I would ask you to pity me, but I 
 see that it would be useless. Do your 
 worst, then, and I will trust to a power 
 greater than any of earth to give me 
 protection." 
 
 With his eyes fixed steadily on her, he 
 approached, and in spite of her efforts to 
 avoid him, he grasped her wrist. 
 
 " You will not yield to any persuasion," 
 he said, deliberately. " You would still 
 defy the sacred rights that made you mine ; 
 you would still link yourself to the man 
 whose hand is red with your father's blood ;
 
 AT BAY. 155 
 
 and you would leave me to tlie mockery of 
 the world." 
 
 " You hurt me, sir," she said, defiantly, 
 and endeavouring to wrench her arm from 
 him. 
 
 " Be calm, madam, and hear me. Since 
 nothing that I have said can influence you 
 to your own benefit, or to justice to me, I 
 must deal with you as the wayward child 
 you are." ^ 
 
 " Help, Eichard Janfarie — help, brother, 
 help ! " she cried, raising her voice, and 
 struggling with all her strength to free 
 herself. 
 
 But neither her cries nor her struggles 
 disturbed the implacable resolution of his 
 dark visage. 
 
 " You shall be taught submission, mis- 
 tress, by means of the mad humour which 
 has driven you to such desperation." 
 
 She made no other answer, than by con-
 
 156 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 tinning her call for help ; and she fancied 
 that the heavy curtains which screened the 
 recesses of the central windows were 
 agitated. 
 
 " Be silent and listen," he said, sternly ; 
 "if you have any heed for the safety of 
 Lamington — but it may be your care for 
 him is as false " 
 
 He paused, seeking a simile, and she 
 filled up the blank. 
 
 " It is as true as my contempt for you is 
 deep." 
 
 " You shall prove that. The Abbot is 
 coming hither presently, to consider the 
 appeal I have lodged with him for the 
 arrest of Bertrand Gordon, of Lamington, 
 and for his authority to support my title to 
 carry you hence by force." 
 
 " No good man will give his authority to 
 such a project." 
 
 "I am content to hazard that, for you
 
 AT BAT. 157 
 
 yourself shall weigh the balance down in 
 my favour.'* 
 
 " I ? " she gasped, becoming suddenly 
 still, so much was she confounded by this 
 new effrontery. "Your cunning will 
 work marvels indeed if it can make me 
 say aught save that you are no true man in 
 having tortured me thus." 
 
 "You are heated, mistress, and I take 
 no count of your words. The Abbot wil]^ 
 most like, ask you to decide whether you 
 will go with me or not." 
 
 " And I will tell him that I will only 
 accept the protection of Lamington." 
 
 With a malicious glimmer in his eyes, 
 Cochrane brought his face close to hers. 
 
 " And at the moment you make that 
 declaration Lamington will be stricken 
 dead at your feet." 
 
 She started back with a cry of fear and 
 horror, but he still held her tightly.
 
 158 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 " I will denounce your villainous in- 
 tention." 
 
 " No, you will not do that, for it would 
 only hasten his doom. You will see that I 
 am prepared for every emergency." 
 
 He dragged her to the first screened 
 window, and he drew the curtain aside. 
 
 In the recess two men were standing 
 with swords drawn as if ready to rush 
 forth at a given signal to execute the 
 treacherous design which Cochrane had 
 revealed to the unfortunate lady. 
 
 " You know the signal," said Cochrane, 
 as if taking a fiendish delight in show- 
 ing her how carefully his mine had been 
 laid. 
 
 " We do," answered the men, stolidly. 
 
 He dropped the curtain, and then drew 
 her to the next window. There also she 
 saw two men with their naked swords 
 glittering in the sunlight. The same
 
 AT BAY. 159 
 
 question and answer were repeated ; and 
 again the curtain covered the hidden 
 executioners. 
 
 Cochrane surveyed her dumb conster- 
 nation with apparent satisfaction. Then, 
 after a pause, to permit her to reaKze the 
 full terror of her situation, he said, slowly : 
 
 " Are you satisfied that your resistance 
 cannot help yourself, and will bring de- 
 struction upon him ? " 
 
 " I am satisfied that you are a demon," 
 she ejaculated, passionately. 
 
 " Say rather a man who never allows 
 his resolution to be baulked. They are 
 coming — remember Lamington's life de- 
 pends upon your word ; and the slightest 
 movement of your hand, or the faintest 
 glance of your eye that would betray me, 
 is his death-warrant." 
 
 He released her at the moment when 
 the approaching footsteps which had
 
 160 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 warned liim that the Abbot and his com- 
 pany were at hand, halted at the door. 
 Janfarie, who had been on the watch, 
 threw the door open. 
 
 The Abbot, David Panther, entered first. 
 He was a tall, stoutly-built man. His 
 features were massive, and of a rather 
 ruddy complexion, as if he were one 
 accustomed to good living, although the 
 gravity of his bearing accorded well with 
 his position, and dispelled any irreverent 
 reflections which a first glance at his face 
 might have inspired. 
 
 His eyes were large, and twinkled with 
 an expression that seemed to be composed 
 equally of shrewdness, cunning, and good 
 humour. They were eyes to dance at a 
 good jest without being over particular as 
 to its character, and at the same time they 
 were eyes to penetrate motives, and quick 
 to sum up the real nature of any one who
 
 AT BAY. 161 
 
 might be bronglit directly under their 
 observation. 
 
 In brief, Panther was a man who could 
 buckle on the armour which his position 
 in those days privileged him to wear, and 
 who could do good service in the field for 
 his own cause ; a man who could compete 
 in policy with the cunningest courtier of 
 the period, and who could be royally merry 
 when occasion served, whilst no Churchman 
 could better uphold the dignity of his order. 
 
 The Abbot was followed by the Prior, a 
 sharp-featured man, whose body seemed to 
 be worn by the austerities he practised. 
 After him entered Lamington, whose face 
 was singularly pale, and whose eyes moved 
 restlessly round the chamber until they 
 rested upon Katherine. Then they 
 brightened, as if his mind were relieved 
 of some doubt, but he did not approach 
 
 her. 
 
 11
 
 162 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 She remained where Cochrane had left 
 her, on the right hand of the chair of state, 
 transfixed and bewildered between her 
 terror of the treachery which threatened 
 her lover, and her doubt of the conse- 
 quences to him and to herself, if she should 
 attempt to save his life by suppressing the 
 truth. The dilemma was so terrible, and 
 the necessity to decide one way or the 
 other so imminent, that she was distracted. 
 She could neither speak nor move, but 
 only stand with pallid face bent toward 
 the floor, striving to collect her sadly 
 confused thoughts. 
 
 The Abbot eyed her curiously as he 
 passed to the chair of state, and observed 
 that she made no movement to salute him. 
 He took his seat without a word, and 
 the Prior, as next in authority, occupied a 
 chair on his right. Twelve monks ranged 
 themselves round their superiors : and
 
 AT BAY. 163 
 
 Ricliard Janfarie, who had entered last, 
 with moody brow and slow step, took his 
 stand near Cochrane. The latter saluted 
 the Abbot with grave courtesy, and, 
 bonnet in hand, stood calmly awaiting the 
 issue of the trial.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE abbot's court. 
 
 '^Quliat waefou wae her bewtie bred, 
 
 Waefou to young and auld ; 
 
 Waefou, I trow, to kyth and kin, 
 
 As story ever tauld." 
 
 Hardyhnute, 
 
 S soon as the Abbot bad taken bis 
 seat be bowed gravely to Sir 
 Robert Cocbrane in recognition. 
 Tbe latter acknowledged bis courtesy witb 
 less of bis usual extreme politeness tban be 
 bad ever displayed to one at wbose bands 
 be expected a service of any kind. Cold 
 and calculating as tbe man's nature was, 
 Katberine's fair face bad obtained some
 
 THE abbot's court. 165 
 
 influence over him that was not altogether 
 due to his speculations as to the number of 
 troopers her kinsmen could bring into the 
 field to support his cause whenever he 
 might need them. 
 
 This influence, strengthened by his 
 chagrin in being made the fool of such a 
 trick as that by which Lamington had 
 carried the bride away, and still more 
 heightened by her resistance and dislike, 
 was urging him forward in his course with 
 a degree of passion which somewhat inter- 
 fered with the policy that in all other 
 matters had guided his steps surely to pre- 
 ferment and success. His was one of those 
 stubborn minds which only persevere the 
 more in the attainment of an object as the 
 difficulties surrounding it increase. 
 
 Under these conditions he had been so 
 far affected by the interview which he had 
 just held with Katherine that it quickened
 
 166 m LOVE AXD WAE. 
 
 to anxiety his desire for the successful issue 
 of his appeal to the Abbot, and rendered 
 him fearful of any inopportune discovery 
 of the ruse by which he hoped to influence 
 Katherine's decision. Hence his somewhat 
 stiff acknowledgment of his lordship's 
 courtesy. Slight as was the indication of 
 his mental disturbance, the Abbot noted it ; 
 but without making any sign that might 
 reveal his observation, he proceeded at once 
 to the business in hand. 
 
 " You have made a sudden call upon me, 
 Sir Eobert Cochrane, to a singular duty," 
 he said ; " but the emergency will excuse 
 its abruptness. Besides, untimely as the 
 call may be, as you have made it in the 
 name of the king— a name we all respect 
 and are bound to serve to the abandonment 
 of all other claims save only those of 
 Heaven — I attend here to review the sub- 
 ject of your complaint, and to render you
 
 THE abbot's court. 167 
 
 justice so far as it is within human power 
 to do so. Speak, then, and let us know 
 your wrong, that we may right it if that 
 be possible." 
 
 The Abbot's voice was of a deep bass 
 tone, which added to the authority of his 
 presence, and which, in the almost breath- 
 less stillness of the audience, sounded upon 
 their ears with peculiar solemnity. 
 
 The words reached Katherine where she 
 stood in mute stupefaction, at first as if 
 spoken in the distance, but gradually the 
 sound became more distinct, the meaning 
 penetrated her mind and recalled her to a 
 shuddering sense of all the peril of her 
 position ; and filled her at the same time 
 with a sensation of new dread, for she 
 fancied that the Abbot was disposed to 
 favour her persecutor. She listened with 
 wildly throbbing pulse, but she did not 
 raise her head.
 
 168 .m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 Cochrane advanced a pace nearer to the 
 judge by whom he had elected to have his 
 cause tried. 
 
 " I crave your lordship's indulgence," he 
 said suavely, and bowing low, " for in- 
 truding my pitiful affairs upon you at a 
 time when doubtless you are much occupied 
 with the weighty matters of your holy 
 office. But accident has led me hither, and 
 for that I am thankful, since it has brought 
 me within the hearing of so wise a judge. 
 My cause needs only the impartial review 
 of such an one as your lordship ; and in- 
 deed it falls within the very palm of your 
 sacred office to do me justice." 
 
 " Proceed," rejoined the Abbot, inclining 
 his head slightly. There was a momentary 
 twinkle in his eyes as if he fully appreci- 
 ated the depth of Cochrane's sincerity in 
 the compliments he offered. 
 
 " Yonder lady is the source of my com-
 
 THE abbot's court. 169 
 
 plaint. Briefly, this is the whole matter : 
 — Yesterday by the wish and consent of 
 her parents and kinsfolk she was wedded 
 to me. A holy man from Carlisle per- 
 formed the ceremony with all due rights. 
 But before night had fallen the lady fled 
 from me and from her father's house with 
 the gallant who stands there so pale before 
 you." 
 
 "She fled from bondage that had been 
 forced upon her and that was hateful to 
 her, as you, sir, were well aware," inter- 
 rupted Lamington, haughtily. 
 
 " I charge you, Grordon, be silent," said 
 the Abbot, sternly; "we must hear this 
 matter from him who seems most wronged ; 
 and as you shall have unbridled speech 
 when he has done, he too must have his 
 say without check from any here." 
 
 Lamington bit his lip, but made no 
 attempt to reply.
 
 170 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 Katherine trembled, for the rebuke her 
 lover had received seemed to indicate still 
 more clearly the favour with which Coch- 
 rane was regarded. 
 
 " For this protection I give your lordship 
 thanks," continued the wily courtier, with 
 a mock air of humility ; " but I need not 
 try the patience even of an enemy in this 
 matter. You are already acquainted with 
 it in some measure from my appeal, which 
 has moved you to summon us to your 
 presence here. Wherefore I have only to 
 repeat those charges on which the justice 
 of my complaint depends." 
 
 " That will suffice." 
 
 " This lady, then, being newly bound to 
 me in bonds of wedlock, fled. Her father 
 and his kindred pursued her and her 
 gallant to Dumfries. The town was 
 alarmed, the burgesses rose, and Lamington 
 by some base trick deceived them, so that
 
 THE abbot's court. 171 
 
 they set the lawful symbol of the Hot Trod 
 at defiance, and assailed our party. Sir 
 Hugh Janfarie, eager to pacify the rioters, 
 rode into their midst, and whilst seeking to 
 explain our purpose there, he was set upon 
 and treacherously slain, if not by the hand 
 of Lamington, by his connivance ; wherein 
 the guilt is as much his as if he had struck 
 the blow." 
 
 Katherine with startled eyes gazed at 
 Lamington, and he made a hasty move- 
 ment as if he would interrupt the speaker ; 
 but he was checked by a motion of the 
 Abbot's hand. 
 
 " We shut our sorrow in our breasts," 
 Cochrane went on, ^^ and turned sternly 
 to the duty that lay before us. We rode 
 with all haste to the tower of Lamington, 
 and failing there to find any tidings of 
 the fugitives, I, having learned that your 
 lordship was at present here, came to seek
 
 172 IN LOVE AND WAK. 
 
 jour aid in arresting a traitor, and in 
 rescuing a foolish lady from her own ruin. 
 At the gate we learned that fortune had 
 favoured us, and that in coming to seek 
 your help we had lighted upon those whom 
 we pursued." 
 
 " Your charge is grave against the man 
 and woman both," said the Abbot, deliber- 
 ately ; " what proof have you to hold it 
 good?" 
 
 ^*So please you, here is the lady's 
 brother, Richard Janfarie, who will con- 
 firm me. He is now chief of his house ; 
 and next to her husband is the guardian 
 of the dame, holding all the authority of 
 his kinship to direct her steps. If that be 
 not enough to prove my charge good, I 
 will attest it with my life." 
 
 He flung his glove down in front of the 
 state chair, and Lamington sprang eagerly 
 forward to pick it up.
 
 THE abbot's court. 173 
 
 But tlie Abbot, rising quickly, planted 
 bis foot upon tbe glove, and gazed frown- 
 ingly at tbe cballenged and tbe cballenger. 
 
 " Stand back, Grordon ; and you, Cocb- 
 rane, take up your glove again. You bave 
 made appeal to me in tbis matter, and you 
 insult my judgment by cballenging its 
 justice before it is spoken. Take up your 
 gage, and bold it for more fitting time and 
 place." 
 
 Tbe Abbot gave tbe command witb a 
 dignity and autbority tbat could not be 
 opposed. 
 
 Lamington drew back, with lips clencbed 
 tigbtly, indicating tbe disappointment be 
 felt at losing tbe opportunity of defending 
 bis bonour witb bis sword. 
 
 Cocbrane, sensible tbat be bad made a 
 false step, endeavoured to retrieve it by 
 obeying tbe command witb a submissive 
 bow.
 
 174 IN LOYE AND AVAR. 
 
 The Abbot resTimed his seat. 
 
 " Answer you, Janfarie," he said, " so 
 far as your knowledge goes, has Sir Eobert 
 -Cochrane spoken truly ? " 
 
 " He has spoken truth in all that he has 
 said. I own it with shame, for it is my 
 •sister who has played the wanton, and it is 
 our father who has fallen in striving to 
 rescue her. I, too, call for justice upon 
 yonder man ; and I, too, crave your lord- 
 ship to deliver the woman into the keeping 
 of her husband." 
 
 The Abbot turned to Katherine. 
 
 " If it be true, madam, that your father 
 has fallen under Grordon's hand, I cannot 
 think that you would wish to consort with 
 him, however strong may be your reasons 
 for shunning him who seems to have the 
 right to call you wife." 
 
 " But he is guiltless, my lord," cried 
 Katherine, stretching out her hands ap-
 
 THE abbot's court. 175 
 
 pealingly ; "if my father has fallen, 
 Lamington had no share in the ill fortune. 
 I alone merit the blame, for it was my 
 act that led him to his doom." 
 
 " Speak, then, and acquaint me by what 
 means, by what temptations you were 
 persuaded, to the rash act which has had 
 such sad results." 
 
 Katherine related simply in what manner 
 she had been forced to the altar with Sir 
 Eobert Cochrane, despite her plighted 
 troth to Lamington ; how, even at the 
 altar, she had refused her consent to the 
 union ; and how the priest had been com- 
 pelled to perform the ceremony, notwith- 
 standing her refusal to make the usual 
 responses. She would have told him, too, 
 how she had resolved to die rather than 
 live the wife of one who had so cruelly 
 taken advantage of his position to force 
 her to the marriage ; but all the time she
 
 176 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 had been speaking her heart had been 
 quivering with the knowledge that the 
 assassins were lying in wait, and that any 
 word she uttered might be the signal for 
 Bertrand's destruction. Therefore she 
 omitted much that she might have said 
 in condonement of her own offence. 
 
 The Abbot, however, seemed to pity her 
 unhappy circumstances. 
 
 " A marriage so forced," he said, " can- 
 not be prosperous, and it is scarcely lawful. 
 Still you erred, madam, in resisting the 
 authority of your parents ; and in a 
 measure they erred too, in seeking to 
 compel your inclination when it was so 
 much opposed to your wishes in this 
 especial matter ; for it is one in which 
 the child's inclinations should be consulted, 
 seeing that upon it so much of her future 
 welfare is dependent. But most of all, you 
 erred, Cochrane, in taking a wife where
 
 THE abbot's court. 177 
 
 yon found so little favour. I would have 
 deemed you wiser than to risk the perils 
 of such a bridal." 
 
 " I could not know the lady's dislike 
 was so fixed," rejoined Cochrane, placidly ; 
 " but as we stand now I must insist upon 
 my claim. Thus far I will yield, however, 
 that you may let her choose between me 
 and the assassin of her father." 
 
 Katherine's blood became chilled, and 
 she felt as if her heart ceased beating. 
 She would have made instant appeal to be 
 spared such a test, but the cold glittering 
 eye of Cochrane was upon her and arrested 
 her. 
 
 " It is a fair proposal," said his lordship, 
 " but first let Grordon answer to the charge 
 you have made of his part in the death of 
 Janfarie." 
 
 " By what mishap the knight has fallen," 
 said Lamington, calmly, " I am ignorant. 
 
 12
 
 178 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 Till the foul charge was made against me 
 I knew nothing of his fate. I have had 
 little reason to be the friend of Janfarie ; 
 but for this lady's sake I would a thousand 
 times rather have given my own life, 
 than that his should have been harmed. 
 Cochrane makes this charge to serve his 
 own ends, and Eichard Janfarie supports 
 him in it because his passion blinds him to 
 the truth." 
 
 " You swear that by no direct act of 
 yours you were a party to the deed ? " 
 
 " I had no further part in this mishap 
 than you may account due to me, since it 
 was in pursuing me he fell. I own it was 
 by me a cry was raised against Sir Eobert 
 Cochrane, but in doing that I sought no 
 more than to spread confusion amongst his 
 party so that we might escape them ; and 
 when the cry was raised. Sir Hugh Jan- 
 farie was at the monastery of Grey Friars.
 
 THE abbot's court. 179 
 
 What followed after I do not know, and 
 how far I may be answerable for it I leave 
 your lordship to decide." 
 
 " Then I decide against you " 
 
 " We may arrest him, then," cried Coch- 
 rane, eagerly, " and bring him for trial 
 before the barons and wardens of the 
 Marches." 
 
 Katherine grew sick and faint, for it 
 seemed that she was to be left in the pow^r 
 of the man she dreaded, whilst he was to 
 drag Gordon before a court over which he 
 had so much control as the king's favourite. 
 There could only be one result : he would 
 be doomed. 
 
 But the next words of the Abbot thrilled 
 her with hope. 
 
 " You are too fast, sir ; I have not done. 
 I decide against him in so far as I recognize 
 in him the immediate source of the quarrel 
 in which the knight fell : but as he medi-
 
 180 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 tated no harm to Janfarie, we must take 
 into account preceding causes, and they 
 seem to me to justify Lamington's effort to 
 elude your vigilance." 
 
 " How, my lord ? " exclaimed Cochrane, 
 astounded by this sudden adverse turn of 
 the judgment. 
 
 " I mean that as you cannot prove it 
 was his hand which struck the blow, and 
 as I can well believe that he would for the 
 daughter's sake avoid doing such harm to 
 the father, we must attribute Janfarie's fate 
 to the accident of the riot rather than to 
 his premeditation. Wherefore of this 
 charge he stands acquitted." 
 
 Katherine with difficulty restrained a 
 cry of joy. 
 
 "I protest against this decision," said 
 Cochrane, maintaining a polite bearing 
 despite the wrath he felt ; " and I will 
 make appeal to a higher power."
 
 THE ABBOTS COURT. 
 
 181 
 
 " To whom, sir ? " 
 
 " To tlie barons of the Marches— to the 
 
 King." 
 
 "That will be as you please; and I 
 would say take the matter straight to the 
 King at once, for I doubt the barons will 
 give you little satisfaction, seeing that it 
 was your name which caused the good 
 folks of Dumfries to forget their respect for 
 the symbol of the Hot Trod." 
 
 "Your lordship speaks impartially m 
 
 this at least," was the suave rejoinder. 
 
 "I will take the matter straight to the 
 
 King, and meanwhile I will arrest Gordon." 
 
 " Nay, by my faith, sir, that would be 
 
 carrying your contempt for my decision a 
 
 little too far. None shall touch him here." 
 
 " Who, then, will answer for his appear- 
 
 ance r 
 
 " I myself will answer for it," broke in 
 Lamington. "I pledge my troth to meet
 
 182 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 the charge whenever and wherever my 
 accusers may appoint." 
 
 A. cold smile of distrust passed over 
 Cochrane's features. 
 
 " I fear we need better surety than that 
 you proffer us." 
 
 " Then you must hold my desire to 
 prove your falsehood at slighter value than 
 the passages that have taken place between 
 us might warrant you." 
 
 " Be satisfied, Cochrane," said the 
 Abbot, somewhat impatiently, " and let us 
 proceed. If his pledge be not enough for 
 you, take mine also." 
 
 " I cannot further object, my lord ; your 
 word would suffice for a troop of male- 
 factors." 
 
 " Your compliments smell something of 
 satire ; sauce may be at times too highly 
 flavoured." 
 
 " The sincerity of my respect must plead
 
 THE abbot's court. 183 
 
 my excuse for the high seasoning of my 
 words," was the answer, with the ease of 
 one accustomed to turn even a rebuke into 
 a means of flattery. 
 
 His lordship, without affecting to observe 
 the remark, proceeded : 
 
 " Your claim to the lady has now to be 
 disposed of; and that might have been a 
 more troublesome question to settle than 
 the other, had not your own generosity 
 provided a ready way out of the difficulty. 
 You, madam, shall decide the claims of 
 your suitors." 
 
 " Again I crave your lordship's indul- 
 gence," interrupted Cochrane ; " my claim 
 is that of a husband." 
 
 " Give it what title you will, sir. But 
 before she answers, this lady must under- 
 stand that I, holding important office in 
 the Church, do not regard as binding the 
 ceremony through which she seems to
 
 184 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 have been dragged, and which was per- 
 formed by a man who forgot the sanctity 
 of his order in the terror of his Hfe. If 
 she decide against you I will not hesitate 
 to declare your marriage void, feeling 
 assured that his holiness the Pope will 
 sanction my decision." 
 
 Cochrane inclined his head slightly to 
 hide the angry flush which rose to his 
 countenance, and which for once he was 
 unable to control. The proceedings had 
 opened so much in his favour that he had 
 counted upon an easy victory : but now 
 the favour seemed to have so completely 
 changed sides that he deemed the judge 
 more than partial to his rival. As, how- 
 ever, he had provided for the decision in 
 the event of its being left to Katherine, 
 according to his apparently frank proposal, 
 he was content to abide the result, watch- 
 ing her narrowly the while.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 
 
 " But fare ye weel, my ae fause love, 
 
 That I hae looed sae lang ; » 
 
 If sets ye chuse another love 
 And let young Benjie gang. 
 
 ** Then Marjorie turned her round about, 
 
 The tear blinding her e'e — 
 
 I darena, darena let thee in, 
 
 But I'll come down to thee." 
 
 Young Benjie. 
 
 ,H E test wliicli she had feared so 
 much had come at last. There 
 was no loop-hole of escape from 
 it — she must either suppress the words she 
 was yearning to speak or hazard Gordon's 
 life. If she had only had any means to
 
 186 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 warn liim ; if she had only had the least 
 chance of putting him on his guard against 
 the sudden assault which she knew would 
 be made upon him, and under which he 
 must fall before he had time to place his 
 hand upon his sword — if the least oppor- 
 tunity to shield him had offered itself, she 
 would have spoken outright, and declared 
 how much she hated Cochrane, whilst she 
 denounced his treachery. 
 
 But she saw no outlet of this kind from 
 her pitiable position ; she must leave Lam- 
 ington to mistrust her, or she must sacrifice 
 him. She had no other alternative. She 
 felt the gaze of Cochrane fixed upon her ; 
 she knew that he understood the struggle 
 of her mind, and that at the least symptom 
 of her intention to defy him, he would give 
 the fatal signal. 
 
 " Come, madam, the matter lies in your 
 hands now," said the Abbot, after a pause.
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 187 
 
 as if he had been waiting for her to speak ; 
 " you have heard my verdict as to the bond 
 by which Sir Eobert Cochrane claims you 
 as his ; but I charge you think well before 
 you speak, for remember that the wishes 
 of your parents demand as deep and earnest 
 consideration from you as your inclination 
 in this affair should have received from 
 them. Say, then, do you persist in your 
 determination, and will you go hence with 
 Lamington ? " 
 
 She stood mute and motionless, as if she 
 had not heard, but the cruel anguish of the 
 moment was to her more excruciating than 
 if all she had hitherto endured had been 
 concentrated in one bitter blow, and it had 
 fallen now. Her eyes were fixed in terror 
 upon Cochrane, and he stood implacable as 
 fate, confident of victory. 
 
 She seemed like one suddenly trans- 
 formed to stone, and was incapable of
 
 188 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 speech or motion. But she was painfully 
 sensible of all that was passing around her. 
 She felt that Lamington was gazing upon 
 her, marvelling at her silence. She knew 
 that the Abbot was eyeing her in astonish- 
 ment, and that all were wondering at her 
 strange manner. Yet she could not break 
 the spell of terror that transfixed her. 
 
 " We wait your answer, madam," said 
 the Abbot, encouragingly, thinking that 
 some modest fear constrained her, "and 
 you may give it freely, for here you are 
 under the protection of the Church." 
 
 Still she was silent, and indeed she 
 scarcely heard the words. 
 
 " Katherine ! " exclaimed Lamington, 
 vague doubts beginning to mingle with his 
 wonder, and affrighting him, " why do you 
 not speak ? Is the question so hard to 
 answer? — nay, you can have but one 
 answer, since you have braved the wrath
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 189 
 
 of kindred and the scorn of unthinkino- 
 minds for your love's sake. You cannot 
 hesitate to tell them that you will go with 
 me, and with me only." 
 
 She made no response yet. 
 
 The silence which ensued was like that 
 in which people listen for the last breath of 
 one dying. None but Cochrane and the 
 woman herself knew the meaning of her 
 pause. 
 
 The Abbot observed upon whom her eyes 
 were fixed ; and authoritatively : 
 
 " You seem to be in fear, but you have 
 no cause. I gave Cochrane liberty to speak 
 with you, as he urgently desired, before 
 the court was held ; but if he has taken 
 advantage of my license to practise upon 
 you by any undue threat to compel your 
 will, he shall find that I have power to 
 protect you in spite of all his art — ay, in 
 spite of the king himself."
 
 190 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 The calm dignity of his speech affected 
 her, and she trembled visibly; but still, 
 bewildered by contending emotions and 
 alarmed by the results which depended on 
 her words, whatever they might be, she 
 could not reply. 
 
 With mock humility and apparent 
 anxiety to clear himself of all suspicion, 
 Cochrane spoke : 
 
 " I beseech your lordship, give the lady 
 time. I own that I have warned her of 
 certain issues which depend on her, but I 
 will abide by her decision." 
 
 The latter words were uttered with a 
 significance that only Katherine compre- 
 hended. 
 
 The Abbot rose to his feet. 
 
 " You have heard what he has said, 
 madam; I charge you, therefore, answer 
 without more delay — go you -with Coch- 
 rane, as your kinsfolk would have you, or
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 191 
 
 go you with Lamington, as you seemed 
 inclined ? " 
 
 She made a hasty movement, and her 
 face flushed as if she were determined at 
 all hazards to declare the true sentiment 
 of her heart ; but at the same moment 
 Cochrane bent forward, raising his hand 
 slightly. His change of posture seemed to 
 all except Katherine merely indicative of 
 his anxiety about her determination ; but 
 to her it signified that he was ready to call 
 the hidden assassins to their foul work. 
 
 The impulse to which she had been 
 about to yield was arrested, her heart 
 seemed to be clasped by a hand of ice, and 
 a moment longer she stood quivering and 
 bewildered. Then wildly she flung herself 
 at the feet of the Abbot, and raising her 
 pallid face she cried in piteous agony : 
 
 "My lord, my lord, I cannot go with 
 Lamington."
 
 192 m LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 Then she bowed her head to the ground 
 as if to hide her shame and anguish. 
 
 There was a moment of speechless 
 wonder, during which Cochrane resumed 
 his ordinary position — a smile of satisfac- 
 tion on his countenance. Lamington was 
 like one stunned by the unexpected nature 
 of her response. Perplexed as he had been 
 by her hesitation, he had not been at all 
 prepared for this blank rejection of his suit. 
 Wholly unsuspicious of the real motive 
 which inspired her words, he was unable 
 to divine the meaning of the sudden change 
 in her regard for him. 
 
 " Is this final, madam ? " said the Abbot, 
 much amazed that she should revoke her 
 preference for the man with whom she 
 had taken flight. 
 
 His voice roused Grordon. 
 
 " Katherine," he cried with passionate 
 vehemence, " you do not know what you
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 193 
 
 have said — you have rejected me, Bertrand ! 
 Look up, look up, Katherine, and say that 
 we have misunderstood you — say that our 
 ears have been deceived ; say that it was 
 not my name you meant to pronounce." 
 
 He had sprung to her side, he bent over 
 her, with the great love he bore her 
 shaking his frame, and making his voice 
 tremble, conjuring her to recall her words. 
 
 But she did not raise her head. Trem- 
 bling with the violent emotions which were 
 torturing her, and sustaining herself with 
 the mental exclamation — " It is for his 
 sake" — she answered him in a voice half 
 stifled by her sobs : 
 
 " I cannot go with you." 
 
 " Oh, this is some frenzy which has 
 seized her," he ejaculated wildly ; " or I 
 have been so basely maligned that she has 
 learned to hate me. If that be so " (raising 
 himself and fiercely confronting Cochrane), 
 
 13
 
 194 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 " look you, sir, well to your affairs, for you 
 shall not live to enjoy the triumph you 
 have so treacherously won ! " 
 
 "We agreed to abide by the lady's 
 decision," was Cochrane's complacent re- 
 sponse. 
 
 " It has been forced from her by some 
 accursed trick. I will not believe that she 
 could be of so fickle humour as to turn 
 from me now. Katherine ! Katherine ! 
 rise and make known to us by what base 
 means these falsehoods have been wrung 
 from you — for they are false — as false to 
 your own heart as they are false to me." 
 
 Low heart-burning sobs were the only 
 response to his passionate appeal. 
 
 He staggered back, his eyes starting in 
 their sockets, his hands clenched des- 
 perately. There was no sound in the 
 chamber save her stifled murmurs of dis- 
 tress, but in his ears there was a din as of
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 195 
 
 a thousand fiends shouting in mockery the 
 answer she had given — " I cannot go with 
 
 you!" 
 
 Confused by these weird sounds, dazed 
 by the sudden shock he had received, he 
 could not yet believe that she intended to 
 forsake him. He could find no clue to her 
 sudden change. He could have understood 
 it had she believed him to be the guilty 
 cause of her father's death. But she di4 
 not credit that; her own lips had declared 
 him as innocent of it in fact as he had been 
 in thought. It could not be either that she 
 had not cared for him, for she had given 
 him too great a proof of her regard. 
 
 What, then, could be the meaning of her 
 rejection ? 
 
 It remained for Cochrane with his oily, 
 venomous tongue to suggest a cause as 
 base as he knew it to be untrue. 
 
 " I beseech your lordship," he said with
 
 196 m LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 an anxiety which was not altogether 
 assumed, " let me remove the lady. You 
 see how she is afflicted by this interview. 
 She risked much for this man's sake, know- 
 ing too little of his circumstances, and now 
 that she knows him to be a bankrupt ad- 
 venturer, she would spare him and herself 
 the misery which must result from adding 
 another burden to his beggarly estate." 
 
 Katherine did not hear his words ; her 
 distress deafened her to the calumny which 
 was being spoken. 
 
 Lamington heard, and a thrill of pain 
 quivered in his breast and overwhelmed his 
 dismay in scorn for the mind which could 
 at such a moment make such sordid calcu- 
 lations. He had been striving vainly for 
 some explanation of her conduct, and in his 
 blind passion he accepted the first that 
 offered itself. 
 
 " Merciful powers ! " he exclaimed,
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 197 
 
 gazing upon her, doubt mingled with his 
 despair, " can this be so ? Is this why she 
 hides her head from me, and cannot raise 
 her face to mine ? Speak, woman ; if your 
 fair looks have not cheated me with the 
 thought that you had as fair a heart — let 
 me know if this knave has spoken truly, 
 so that I may turn from you so full of 
 scorn, that I shall feel no pang for all the 
 hopes and love you have trampled under* 
 foot ! " 
 
 " It is for his sake that I am silent," she 
 again murmured to herself, and still she 
 gave him no reply. 
 
 With a species of frenzy he stooped down 
 and seized her arm. 
 
 " Have you lost all sense of hearing and 
 of touch ? or is this no more than another 
 trick to feign a distress that is a mockery 
 to me? Oh, madam, if these be your 
 reasons for your new humour, you might
 
 ±98 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 have spared us all mucli trouble had you 
 declared them sooner. I am not so poor 
 but I can thank Heaven for rescuing me 
 from the false smiles of one who balances 
 her affection with the stock of a larder or 
 the stuff of a gown. I deemed you worthy 
 to share with me the honourable struggle 
 to win back the name and fortune of my 
 father's house — I find you now a weak, 
 pitiful creature, unfit to bear a true gentle- 
 man's name." 
 
 Katherine suddenly clasped the Abbot's 
 knees, and looking up to him imploringly, 
 with tearful face, but not daring to glance 
 towards her lover, she cried : 
 
 " Spare me, my lord, spare me, and take 
 him away." 
 
 Lamington laughed bitterly as he drew 
 back. 
 
 " Oh, be content, madam ; I will relieve 
 you of my presence without his lordship's
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 199 
 
 interference. There is your treasure, Coch- 
 rane ; take her and be as proud of her as 
 you may. By my faith, I thank you for 
 having rescued me from the shame I sought 
 so eagerly ; for sad shame it would have 
 been indeed to have found her later what 
 I know her to be now." 
 
 " Let me take her hence," said Cochrane 
 again to his lordship ; " this madman's 
 raving is unfit for her ears." 
 
 " She has heard the last of it," cried 
 Lamington, with the cruel laugh of despair 
 that pierced her to the quick, more on 
 account of his suffering than of her own, 
 great as that was. He went on : " She 
 need never heed me, for I will be the first 
 to congratulate her, and wish her all the 
 joy that she deserves." 
 
 " Peace, man," interrupted the Abbot, 
 who had been watching this strange scene 
 with curious eyes, and who began to
 
 200 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 suspect that Katherine had some deeper 
 reason for her conduct than appeared on 
 the surface. " Peace, and retire." 
 
 " Since your lordship commands it, I 
 obey ; but it was not needed. Trust me, 
 I would have seen you join the hands of 
 this brave couple with as fair a laugh on 
 my lips as you could have wished. Since 
 they would have me gone, I will humour 
 them in this as in all other things. Fare 
 you well. Mistress Katherine — or Lady 
 Cochrane, I ought to say, although the 
 name sticks in my throat. Farewell, and 
 when you think of me " — here his affected 
 tone of raillery broke down, and his 
 passionate agony found expression — " oh, 
 woman, think of me as of one whose life 
 you have marred — of one who cherished 
 your image above all else on earth — of one 
 whom your falsehood has hurled down the 
 black depths of misery and despair; and
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 201 
 
 yet of one who thanks Heaven that he 
 knows your baseness even while he falls." 
 
 " Spare me— spare him," moaned Kathe- 
 rine to the Abbot. 
 
 The latter motioned to the Prior, who 
 rose hastily from his seat, and prevented 
 Lamington saying more by dragging him 
 from the chamber. 
 
 The door had scarcely closed upon them 
 when the Abbot proceeded : 
 
 " I presume, madam, from your rejection 
 of Lamington that you accept the proffered 
 protection of Sir Eobert Cochrane ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly that is her meaning," said 
 Cochrane, advancing lightly to raise her 
 from her kneeling posture. 
 
 But with a cry of dismay and horror 
 she shrank from his touch, and clung 
 desperately to the knees of the Abbot. 
 
 " No, no, my lord, keep him away — his 
 touch would kill me. I throw myself on
 
 202 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 your mercy — I implore your protection, 
 and I will accept none other." 
 
 " In good faith, madam," ejaculated his 
 lordship, a little impatiently, "your conduct 
 is somewhat of the strangest. Explain to 
 me ; what does it mean ? " 
 
 "Her brain is crazed," said Cochrane, 
 hastily ; " she does not know her own 
 mind ; she will be cured in time, hut the 
 danger is not over yet'' 
 
 The latter words were spoken with a 
 significance which Katherine understood 
 too well. Her impulse had been to 
 answer the Abbot by denouncing Coch- 
 rane's treacherous trick, but his warn- 
 ing checked her. She felt that until she 
 had an opportunity to make Lamington 
 aware of the position it would be mad- 
 ness to imperil his life anew by declaring 
 the truth after she had sacrificed so much 
 to save him.
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 203 
 
 " Be merciful, my lord, and give me 
 your protection," was all she dared to say. 
 
 " But I demand your lordship's recogni- 
 tion of her husband's authority by yielding 
 her up to me. Nay, more ; here stands 
 her brother, the head of her house, and I 
 demand that you recognize the authority of 
 her family beside my own." 
 
 " E-ise, lady," said the Abbot, slowly, and 
 assisting her to her feet. " You shall ha^ie 
 my protection, since you claim it so 
 earnestly." 
 
 She hung, trembling, on his arm, and 
 watching Cochrane's dark visage sus- 
 piciously. 
 
 " Surely your lordship cannot deny my 
 claims upon her after all that has passed," 
 he said with some uneasiness. 
 
 " I deny nothing, Cochrane ; but until 
 the lady has had time to recover from the 
 excitement of this trial she shall remain 
 under my charge."
 
 204 IN LOVE AXD WAR. 
 
 " Then your lordship compels me to 
 warn you that you exceed the powers of 
 your position. You have no right to hold 
 her back from those who are her guardians 
 by law and nature." 
 
 "It is my privilege, sir, to protect the 
 weak. You have yourself said that her 
 mind is unbalanced : until she find the 
 balance again I will care for her." 
 
 " And I deny your right to do so." 
 
 " Your denial is of small account to me ; 
 but since your objection is made so strongly, 
 I will place her under the charge of one to 
 whom you cannot object." 
 
 " Then you will carry her straight to 
 Lady Janfarie." 
 
 *' No, I will carry her to the Queen ; and 
 whilst she is under her Majesty's protec- 
 tion, you will have opportunity to move 
 her mind to your favour if that be possible. 
 Meanwhile, you may ride with us and see
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 205 
 
 that I discharge my duty faithfully. Come, 
 madam, I will conduct you to a chamber 
 where you may prepare for our journey." 
 
 Cochrane, gnawing his lip, but bowing 
 with affected submission, drew back as the 
 Abbot led Katherine from the apartment.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SNARES. 
 
 " Here maun I lye, here maun I die, 
 
 By treachery's false gyles ; 
 
 Witless I was that faith e're gave 
 
 To wicked woman's smiles." 
 
 Hardyhnute. 
 
 N the way to the apartment 
 which she had occupied during 
 the night, Katherine felt her- 
 self too much depressed and confused 
 to be able to speak. She had warded 
 off the danger which had threatened the 
 life of him to whom her whole heart was 
 devoted ; but she had done it at the cost of 
 excruciating torture to herself and to him,
 
 SNARES. 207 
 
 and the exhaustion which ensued naturally 
 left her weak and sick. Besides, there was 
 the bitter consciousness that, notwithstand- 
 ing all she had suffered and risked, the 
 safety it had secured was only temporary. 
 
 She now knew to what cruel extremities 
 Cochrane was prepared to proceed in order 
 to possess her, and to redeem the discredit 
 which her flight had thrown upon him ; 
 and she dreaded the power his cunning 
 and position afforded him to carry his 
 determination into effect. 
 
 Indeed, she had been so much impressed 
 by the peril that must be encountered in 
 braving such a man as Cochrane, that even 
 when she had reached her room, and the 
 Abbot was about to leave her, she hesi- 
 tated whether or not it would be well to 
 hazard what might happen on her ac- 
 quainting him with the trick by which 
 she had been controlled, and which had
 
 208 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 rendered her conduct so singular and in- 
 consistent. 
 
 " Here you will rest, daughter," said 
 his lordship, kindly, and dropping into the 
 paternal form of address befitting his 
 character of a Church dignitary ; " and I 
 will see that refreshment is provided for 
 you. You will be free from interruption 
 till I send for you, and by that time you 
 may have recovered the calmness of mind 
 which has been so much disturbed." 
 
 Still hesitating whether to reveal her 
 secret now or to delay until she found 
 more fitting opportunity, she bowed her 
 head and spoke falteringly : 
 
 *' My words are feeble, good father, and 
 cannot make known to you as I would 
 wish the gratitude I feel." 
 
 " Gratitude is always deepest, child, 
 when it is voiceless. But why have you 
 sought my protection since, having re-
 
 Sj^ares. 209 
 
 jected that of Lamington, it would seem 
 more natural for you to have accepted 
 Cochrane's or your brother's guardianship?'' 
 
 She glanced around her in a quick, 
 affrighted manner, and spoke in a whisper. 
 
 " Where is he now ? " 
 
 " You mean Lamington ? — he is in the 
 private chamber of the Prior, waiting for 
 me. Why do you look about so strangely? 
 No harm can reach you here." 
 
 " Who can tell that?" she sighed bitterly. 
 " Last night I thought that within this 
 holy house we were safe, but this morning 
 I have learned that even here treachery 
 and the hand of the assassin can reach 
 us. 
 
 " Your manner and your words are so 
 strange, daughter," said the Abbot, slowly, 
 and with a passing doubt that her mind 
 had become slightly crazed, " that I am 
 perplexed exceedingly. Life is at best 
 
 14
 
 210 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 uncertain, but in this house it should be 
 safe at least from the dangers you point 
 at." 
 
 " But it is not so. Oh, good father, you 
 saw the anguish I endured whilst refusing 
 the man I had made choice of in despite of 
 all my kindred. You saw the horror with 
 which the touch of Cochrane thrilled me, 
 and you could not understand the con- 
 tradiction of my words and looks. But 
 you shall know my reason now, if I may 
 speak in assurance that no ears save yours 
 can hear my words." 
 
 The Abbot, wondering, walked to the 
 door, looked along the passage, and saw 
 that it was clear. Then he returned to 
 Katherine. 
 
 " Speak, daughter, and have no fear. I 
 pitied your distress when your conduct 
 was a riddle to me ; be sure that you will 
 have all the aid it is in my power to give,
 
 SNARES. 211 
 
 when I have learned the motives which 
 have prompted your behaviour." 
 
 Rapidy she related to him the manner in 
 which Cochrane had threatened her, and 
 compelled her to deny the impulse of her 
 heart in refusing to accompany Lamington 
 when the matter seemed to be left entirely 
 to her option. 
 
 The Abbot, as he listened, was first 
 
 surprised by the boldness of the trick 
 
 « 
 which Cochrane had played them, and next 
 
 indignant. 
 
 " I understand you now, daughter, and I 
 
 may tell you I divined that you had some 
 
 hidden motive for your conduct. I was 
 
 blind not to have seen at once that there 
 
 was knavery at the back of it, knowing 
 
 Cochrane as I do. His affected generosity 
 
 should have betrayed him to me at once, 
 
 for there is no kindly spark in his whole 
 
 nature for other than his wretched self.
 
 212 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 But he shall answer for every pang he has 
 caused to you." 
 
 " I implore you, good father, do not let 
 him know yet that I have revealed his 
 treachery ; and give Bertrand instant 
 warning, for this man has power and is 
 remorseless." 
 
 " Keep a light heart, child, on that 
 score. We have hunted foxes before now, 
 and it shall go hard but our experience 
 will outwit this one." 
 
 " Thanks, thanks, father. Keep Ber- 
 trand safe, and you will find me wanting 
 neither in courage nor patience." 
 
 " I will bear your message to him, and 
 will contrive that you shall see him, so 
 that he may learn your truth from your 
 own lips." 
 
 " He will not blame me when he knows 
 all ? " she said, with timid doubt. 
 
 *' He shall not — rest you satisfied.
 
 SNARES. 213 
 
 Meanwhile bar your door, and keep all out 
 whose company may not be agreeable to 
 you." 
 
 Therewith he pronounced a paternal 
 benediction and withdrew. Katherine im- 
 mediately followed his directions and 
 barred the door, for she feared, and with 
 some reason, that, disappointed in the 
 decision of the Abbot's court, Cochrane 
 might seek her, either to persuade her ♦o 
 remain silent as to his knavery, or to force 
 her away with him, notwithstanding his 
 apparent submission to his lordship's 
 authority. 
 
 The Abbot Panther, pondering upon 
 what he had just heard, and upon other 
 matters with which it was more or less 
 associated, made his way along various 
 corridors to the private chambers of the 
 Prior. 
 
 He entered a species of ante-room, at the
 
 214 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 farther end of which was a small door 
 covered by heavy hangings. Through this 
 doorway he passed into a square apartment 
 which was furnished with some degree of 
 comfort. 
 
 There he saw Lamington, with flushed 
 face and excited manner, pacing the floor ; 
 whilst the Prior, who had apparently ex- 
 hausted all the persuasion at his command, 
 sat gravely silent watching him. 
 
 On the entrance of the Abbot, the Prior 
 rose, and in obedience to a whisper, noise- 
 lessly retired to the ante-room, where he 
 remained, evidently for the purpose of in- 
 suring the safety of his superior from, any 
 interruption or eavesdroppers. 
 
 Lamington halted abruptly. 
 
 " Well, is she gone ? " he queried, with 
 quivering lips, although he tried to speak 
 lightly. 
 
 ''' Gone ! — ^no, nor does she mean to go 
 except under my care."
 
 SNARES. 215 
 
 Lamington glowered at him, unable to 
 comprehend the answer. 
 
 " What new whim is this ? " he said, 
 bitterly. " Has her fickle brain already 
 repented the wrong she has done me ? " 
 
 " She has done you a service, not a 
 wrong. We are blind creatures, all of us, 
 and do not see the good which comes to us 
 often in the form of affliction." 
 
 " You count it a service, then, for her ^o 
 have renounced me ? " 
 
 " Under the circumstances it was so. 
 Come, sit down and listen to me. You 
 shall learn that Mistress Katherine was 
 most kind when she seemed most cruel." 
 
 Lamington drew back with an exclama- 
 tion of pain. 
 
 " I will not listen to you or any man 
 who comes to tell me that she has not been 
 fooling me. Fair opportunity was given 
 her to decide between the man from whom
 
 216 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 she had fled and myself. She has made 
 her choice, and so let her abide by it. For 
 me, I will not seek to compel any woman's 
 humour, although I suffered all the tortures 
 the arch-fiend could invent by the loss of 
 her." 
 
 " You are too hot, my son," said the 
 Abbot, quietly ; " the lady had no choice 
 save to appear fickle to you or to sacrifice 
 your life." 
 
 " Am I then so poor a wretch that she 
 feared my capability to defend myself 
 against a knave like Cochrane ? That is 
 the sharpest sting of all." 
 
 " Be calm, man, and listen. In a fair 
 and open struggle no one, and she least 
 of all, would doubt your prowess. But 
 the strongest is weak against a secret 
 foe." 
 
 " Cochrane makes no secret of his 
 enmity."
 
 SNARES. 217 
 
 " But he hides the means wherewith he 
 seeks to strike at you." 
 
 " Let him do his worst." 
 
 " Ay, let him do it ; but let us be pre- 
 pared to meet it. Sit down, I say ; and 
 when you have heard her explanation, if 
 you do not pity her, and take prompt 
 measures on your own, and her behalf, you 
 cannot care so much for the lady as you 
 seem to do." • 
 
 With an impatient gesture, as if to in- 
 timate how little satisfaction he expected 
 from the explanation, Lamington at length 
 seated himself opposite his friend. The 
 Abbot had laid aside his mitre and surplice, 
 and with the removal of these insignia of 
 his office, his manner seemed to change 
 insensibly. He spoke now without any 
 of that dignified composure which had 
 characterized his speech while he had been 
 holding the court. His words were uttered
 
 218 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 with a quick and sharp enunciation, and 
 his observations were those of a man 
 experienced in worldly ways, and of one 
 whose mind was occupied with many 
 schemes. In fact, the Churchman had 
 disappeared and the politician had taken 
 his place. 
 
 Astounded by the revelation which was 
 made to him, Lamin^ton sat for a moment 
 breathless ; then starting to his feet with 
 hands clenched, he moved towards the 
 door. 
 
 " By every saint in heaven he shall 
 answer for this treachery before he is many 
 minutes older. Shame upon me to have 
 blamed her as I have done — to have heaped 
 my mad maledictions upon her while she 
 was trying to save me." 
 
 His hand was on the door. 
 
 " Come back, come back, hot-brained and 
 short-sighted mortal. I expected that this
 
 SNAEES. 219 
 
 intelligence would move you to pity for 
 her and shame for yourself; but, my faith, 
 I did not expect you to act so blindly." 
 
 " How, blindly ? Would you persuade 
 me to forego my vengeance or to pause 
 in it ? " 
 
 " Nay, I would not have you forego it ; 
 but I would have you pause that it may 
 be the more complete." 
 
 " Show me how that may be done — shojv 
 me how I can whip his heartless nature 
 into some part of the agony she has en- 
 dured, and I will wait for years. But be 
 sure that you give him no chance to escape 
 me, or 1 will hold you my enemy." 
 
 " We shall not have to wait long, I trust, 
 to bring the knave to account, and you 
 shall see that the course you were about 
 to take just now would be the clearest way 
 to give him the chance of escape which 
 you fear he may obtain."
 
 220 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 " Eead the riddle to me. I listen with 
 what patience I have left." 
 
 " Come nearer, then." 
 
 Lamington approached slowly, as if he 
 were still doubtful whether or not his best 
 course was to seek Cochrane at once. 
 
 The Abbot, with a pawky smile, pro- 
 ceeded : 
 
 " I have already told you something of 
 the purpose for which I trysted you to 
 meet me here. Now, in all these unex- 
 pected events which have transpired, I 
 see a direct means of assisting our pro- 
 ject and of satisfying your desire for 
 retribution." 
 
 " You will work a marvel indeed if you 
 can turn these miseries to so good account." 
 
 "You will see. First, you know the 
 power which this knave Cochrane and his 
 fellows have obtained over the King. They 
 have played upon his Majesty's weakness
 
 SNARES. 221 
 
 and upon his good nature, to the ruin of 
 all honest men, and the degradation of our 
 country." 
 
 " All that I know — a set of mountebanks 
 govern the State and make us bow our 
 heads in helpless wrath." 
 
 " They must be removed ; and the chief 
 of them must suffer first. His Majesty's 
 brothers, the Duke of Albany and the Earl 
 of Mar, have determined upon this as much 
 for their brother's sake as for their own. 
 They have the support of every noble who 
 still attends the court, besides the devoted 
 services of the many who have been 
 banished and deprived of titles and lands 
 by the influence of this Cochrane. The 
 people are groaning under his oppression, 
 and you yourself have proved at Dumfries 
 with what good will they would rise to expel 
 the tyrant." 
 
 " But how can the treachery which has
 
 222 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 tortured Katherine and distracted me lielp 
 forward this purpose ?" ■ 
 
 " In this way : I am to place Mistress 
 Katherine under the Queen's protection. 
 She will tell her Majesty the story of the 
 persecution with which Cochrane has 
 assailed her, and of the villainy by 
 which he attempted to force her to sub- 
 mission." 
 
 " But he will deny it all when he is 
 charged with it." 
 
 " Ay, but trust me, Margaret of Denmark 
 is a lady of as clear vision as of warm 
 sympathy. She will be interested in 
 Mistress Katherine's misfortunes, and she 
 will recognize her truth, no matter what 
 Cochrane may say to the contrary." 
 
 " But the King will not believe so 
 readily." 
 
 "Well, then, it is a question of the 
 Queen s influence upon his Majesty opposed
 
 SNARES. 223 
 
 to that of Coclirane ; and if slie take up 
 the matter in the earnest spirit which I 
 calculate upon, then I will weigh a wife's 
 skill against the cajolery of a hundred 
 favourites." 
 
 "And if it fail?" 
 
 At the question the Abbot leaned back 
 on his chair, folding his hands complacently 
 before him and smiling incredulously. 
 
 " If it fail," he answered, in a low, 
 cautious tone, " if the Queen does not 
 depose an unworthy favourite, then I am 
 afraid that the King himself will pay the 
 penalty of his obstinate fidelity to the 
 harpies who surround him." 
 
 " And that penalty ? " 
 
 " Will be his crown." 
 
 Lamington started and drew back. 
 
 " How say you ? — this is treason of the 
 boldest flight." 
 
 "It is justice to the people and to the
 
 224 IN LOA'E AND WAR. 
 
 King himself, only you choose to give it an 
 unpleasant name. We have no intent to 
 disturb lawful authority, but we are resolved 
 that the greedy cormorants who surround 
 the throne, sapping its honour, and making 
 it a thing of contempt for the world, shall 
 be driven thence. The cry of wrong- 
 doing swells on every side, and it has 
 grown too loud ever to be hushed until 
 the cause of it is removed. His Majesty's 
 own safety demands that the parasites 
 who are battening on his weakness shall 
 be removed, and the outcry of the people 
 commands it." 
 
 " But let them be removed without 
 danger to the King." 
 
 " So much we hope to do ; but even 
 kings must take physic sometimes." 
 
 '' I will have no hand in aught that 
 threatens the safety of our sovereign," said 
 Gordon, resolutely.
 
 SNARES. 225 
 
 " Why, who is there makes such a 
 threat ? Albany and Mar are his brothers, 
 and they seek only to insure his safety 
 which his own folly has so far imperilled 
 that a breath would rouse the country to 
 arms against him." 
 
 " Pledge me your word that there is no 
 other object, and I am with you." 
 
 "Most faithfully I pledge myself; for, 
 as I understand the matter, we seek to 
 serve the King, not to harm him. Surely, 
 you have little reason to be dainty about 
 the means by which Cochrane and his 
 fellows may be swept from the height 
 which gives them power to ruin honest 
 men." 
 
 That reminder of his own wrongs stirred 
 anew the passion of Lamington, which had 
 been for a moment chilled by the boldness 
 of the conspiracy now revealed to him. 
 
 " There is my hand," he responded, 
 
 15
 
 226 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 impulsively. " You shall not find it falter 
 until justice shall have wrought its work 
 upon Eobert Cochrane." 
 
 The Abbot grasped his hand tightly. 
 
 " Your word is pledged," he said, 
 hastily, his eyes glistening with satisfac- 
 tion, " and the misery Katherine has en- 
 dured should hold you to it steadily. For 
 her sake I trust you to be discreet and 
 watchful." 
 
 " Name her when you see me hesitate, 
 and the memory of her suffering will make 
 me remorseless." 
 
 " Eem ember, then, that she is the prize 
 for which you struggle ; and remember, 
 too, that justice must be done to your 
 father's name." 
 
 " Ay, these are motives to fit a man for 
 desperate deeds." 
 
 " Enough, then ; our course is clear. It 
 was to explain these things to you that I
 
 SNARES. 227 
 
 wished yon to meet me at this place. Now 
 go see the lady, and make what amends to 
 her you can for the blame you unjustly 
 cast upon her. Poor dame ! your wild 
 charges hurt her more than all the rest." 
 
 " I will make atonement, if it be in the 
 power of man to expiate such wrong, by 
 the faithful service of a life. Heaven knows 
 I, too, suffered something. But I will 
 explain that to her," he continued, with 
 an attempt to shake off the depression 
 which had weighed upon him since that 
 stormy meeting ; " and you, most reverend 
 father, when you have donned your canoni- 
 cals again and forgotten that you are a 
 courtier — ay, and one of the cunningest, 
 too — you will see that the ceremony which 
 was performed at Johnstone is declared 
 null." 
 
 The Abbot gave a quiet but jovial sort 
 of laugh at the reference to his double
 
 228 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 character. As has been seen, when per- 
 forming any of the duties appertaining to 
 his position as a Church dignitary, he 
 acted with a solemnity that inspired re- 
 spect ; but with his badge of office he laid 
 aside the churchman, and in his second 
 character he schemed and intrigued with 
 an address which earned for him a high 
 place in the estimation of the courts of 
 England, France, and of his own country. 
 He made little attempt to conceal these 
 contradictory traits of his nature, and he 
 could enjoy a joke at his own expense with 
 any man. In this respect, at least, he was 
 no hypocrite, although he was by no means 
 particular as to the stratagem by which he 
 might outwit an opponent. 
 
 " Away you to the dame," he said, still 
 laughing, "and if it will comfort her, say 
 that the ceremony shall be annulled before 
 three days have passed. But bid her be-
 
 SNARES. 229 
 
 ware lest by any look or sign she should 
 p3rmit Cochrane to know that we have 
 discovered his treachery before we have 
 reached Linlithgow. Till then yon must 
 bid her adieu, for you must not speak to 
 her again during the journey. Gro ; the 
 Prior will show you her chamber." 
 
 Lamington, with a light step and a 
 relieved heart, hastened to seek Katherine ; 
 and he had no presentiment of the dire 
 events that were to bar their meeting.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THEOUGH THE WOOD. 
 
 " ' I lo'e Brown_ Adam, weel,' slie said, 
 ' I trow sae does he me ; 
 I wad nae gie Brown Adam's love 
 For nae fause knight I see.' " 
 
 Brown Adam. 
 
 ^^^^ATHERINE remained half an 
 hour undisturbed in her apart- 
 ment after the Abbot had 
 quitted her. She experienced an immeasur- 
 able sense of relief now that she had un- 
 burthened her mind of the wretched secret 
 by which her actions had been controlled, 
 and by which she had been made to
 
 THROUGH THE WOOD. 231 
 
 appear so fickle in the eyes of the man 
 whose esteem she valued most. 
 
 Every moment she expected to hear 
 Lamington knock and demand admission. 
 Her mind became concentrated upon that 
 expectation, and her sense of hearing was 
 strained to catch the sound of his approach- 
 ing footsteps. 
 
 At length, a light tap on the door. 
 
 She sprang toward it with a subdued 
 cry of joy. 
 
 " Who is there ? " she asked, with her 
 hand trembling on the bar, ready to with- 
 draw it. 
 
 " Open, sister; I bear a message to you," 
 was the answer, in a low voice. 
 
 She was disappointed and chagrined ; 
 for an instant she even felt a shaft of 
 spleen at the laggardliness of her lover. 
 He should have been as eager as herself, 
 she thought, for the reconciliation which
 
 232 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 was to atone for the affliction they had both 
 undergone. Reflection, however, soothed 
 her, for doubtless he had sent this message 
 to announce his approach. 
 
 " A message from whom ? " 
 
 " From one, sister, who waits eagerly 
 your presence and forgiveness." 
 
 She opened the door. 
 
 A friar, with bowed shoulders and cowl 
 drawn closely over his head, concealing his 
 features, which were still further hidden 
 by his eyes being sedulously bent upon the 
 ground, stood on the threshold. 
 
 " Is he coming? " she questioned eagerly. 
 
 " Nay, sister," was the answer, in a still 
 lower tone than before, and with an oddly 
 guttural utterance. " You are to follow me, 
 and join him. I have no knowledge of his 
 reasons for this strange conduct ; but he 
 told me that you would understand when 
 I said that it was needful for your safety
 
 THROUGH THE WOOD. 233 
 
 and for his that you should pass hence 
 unseen." 
 
 " Said he so ? I will go with you in- 
 stantly." 
 
 And without pausing to speculate upon 
 the motives which could have prompted 
 this sudden flight after the Abbot had 
 promised his protection, she hastily 
 snatched up the plaid her lover had placed 
 round her on the previous night, threw ^t 
 round her shoulders, drawing it over her 
 head, and followed the friar. 
 
 He had turned his back on her the 
 moment he had observed she was prepared 
 to accompany him. When she whispered, 
 " I am ready," he moved noiselessly along 
 the passage. 
 
 At the top of the staircase he half turned 
 his face toward her. 
 
 " Step quickly, sister," he said under his 
 breath, " and lightly, for we must pass the
 
 234 IN LOYE AND WAE. 
 
 chamber of one whose eyes we are to 
 avoid." 
 
 Holding her breath, she descended the 
 stairs after him with the lightness and 
 rapidity of a fawn. When they entered 
 the second passage from which the one 
 leading to the royal apartments diverged, 
 she trembled lest Cochrane or her brother 
 should break out upon them and bar their 
 progress. 
 
 But although she heard footsteps in 
 various directions, no one crossed their 
 path. Uninterrupted they reached a small 
 side door, which her guide opened quickly, 
 and they passed out to the garden square 
 of the Priory. 
 
 In this square the monks of the estab- 
 lishment at stated hours took exercise, 
 walked and meditated upon the affairs of 
 the small world to which their devotion 
 limited them, and upon the great future for
 
 THROUaH THE WOOD. 235 
 
 which they were preparing themselves. 
 Eound the walls were niches and seats for 
 the promenaders to rest when they were so 
 disposed. Above the niches were carved 
 images of saints and allegories of good and 
 evil, to help the thoughts of the holy men 
 when they were tempted to stray from the 
 high purpose of their devotions. 
 
 As it wanted yet an hour to the time of 
 the forenoon promenade, the square w«is 
 unoccupied, else the appearance of a woman 
 in the garb of the world in that place 
 w^ould have attracted attention and excited 
 curious questioning probably from some of 
 the brotherhood. 
 
 Evidently afraid lest anything of this 
 kind might happen, and lest his character 
 might be affected by discovery, Katherine's 
 guide said hurriedly — again only partly 
 turning his face toward her — 
 
 " Hasten, good sister, and keep close to 
 the wall, as you observe me do."
 
 236 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 " I will keep pace with you, make what 
 speed you will." 
 
 " Once outside the square, and we are 
 safe." 
 
 "We?" 
 
 His shoulders jerked as if he had 
 stumhled. 
 
 " Ay, we," he added quickly, but with- 
 out looking round at all, " for I risk some- 
 thing, sister, in serving you and your 
 friend." 
 
 "I understand, father, and I am grateful." 
 
 Keeping close to the wall which ran on 
 a line with the main wall of the house, so 
 that they could not be seen unless some 
 one thrust his head out of a window, they 
 at a pace accelerated almost to a run, made 
 for the end of the square. They reached 
 it, still apparently undiscovered. 
 
 A small oaken door, studded with 
 massive iron bolts, was opened by the friar
 
 THROUGH THE WOOD. 237 
 
 with a key which he held ready in his 
 hand. 
 
 They passed through the doorway and 
 stood on the outside of the Priory. 
 
 Katherine looked round : the black forest 
 was looming before her, its trees waving 
 and sighing in the wind, and down below, 
 the Ken was glistening in the sunlight as 
 it rippled slowly through the dell. 
 
 But Lamington was not there, and ahe 
 turned with some disappointment to her 
 guide. 
 
 He was relocking the door, and when he 
 had done so, he threw the key over the 
 wall into the square, as if he had no inten- 
 tion of returning. 
 
 That seemed curious; but she was too 
 anxious to learn why Lamington was not 
 waiting there for her, as she had been led 
 to expect, to give immediate attention to 
 the circumstance.
 
 238 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 "Why is he not here?" she queried, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 " There was too much danger of being 
 observed for him to tarry here." 
 
 " Where is he, then ? " 
 
 " He is on before us. I will guide you 
 safely to him, do not doubt." 
 
 There seemed to be, or her fancy be- 
 trayed her, a shade of impatience in the 
 friar's manner, and she almost started at 
 the tone, for it was abrupt, and struck 
 some chord of her memory that roused 
 vague and perplexing suggestions that the 
 voice was not unfamiliar to her, although 
 she could not associate it with any person. 
 
 He began to move rapidly across the 
 open space . which lay between them and 
 
 the forest. 
 
 * 
 
 Katherine followed, keeping close behind 
 him, Before they had made many paces 
 she spoke again..
 
 THROUGH THE WOOD. 239 
 
 " At what place has he appointed to 
 wait for me, father ? " she said with some 
 little trepidation, for she feared that her 
 repeated questions annoyed her guide. 
 
 " He rides on before, and we are to over- 
 take him," he replied in a more modulated 
 tone than that he had last used. 
 
 " Then you go with me ? " 
 
 " Yes, till I have placed you under his 
 charge. That was my promise. If yqji 
 doubt me, we will return." 
 
 " No, no ; I beseech you go on, and 
 pardon my anxiety. But it seems strange 
 that he should desire to depart in this 
 secret fashion when the good Abbot 
 pledged himself to guard us until he had 
 placed me under the care of the Queen." 
 
 " His lordship's intention was sincere, no 
 doubt ; but you should know that, with all 
 his power, he could not insure you the 
 safety which you and your friend need,"
 
 240 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 " I have had bitter reason to know that 
 too well, but I thought that when aware of 
 Cochrane's treachery he could take means 
 to thwart him for the present." 
 
 " Such a man as Cochrane is not easily 
 thwarted. It is the Abbot's wish that you 
 should reach the Queen as speedily as 
 possible, and the course you are taking 
 seemed the surest and swiftest." 
 
 "Did he indeed think so? Ah, then 
 Cochrane's power must be great indeed 
 when even the good Lord Abbot must stoop 
 to such means as this to overreach him." 
 
 '• His power is great ; but pause or go 
 forward as it may suit your pleasure. 
 Only decide now, for in a little while 
 return will be impossible without exposure 
 of the whole stratagem." 
 
 " Hasten on ; I will not pause again." 
 
 By this time they had entered the forest 
 at a point where three footpaths joined.
 
 THROUGH THE WOOD. 241 
 
 There the friar hesitated an instant, as 
 if he were not well acquainted with the 
 route, and as if he were not sure which 
 path to take. 
 
 At length, with a half-smothered ejacu- 
 lation of discontent, apparently at his own 
 indecision, he chose the path to the right. 
 That led them along the skirt of the wood 
 in the direction of the Ken. 
 
 Katherine's guide evidently did noj: 
 mean to penetrate the forest. He had 
 rather accepted the shelter of the trees to 
 hide them from observation. This object 
 became clear when, after half an hour's 
 brisk walking, and they had descended 
 into the vale, he suddenly diverged to- 
 wards an open plain which dipped down 
 to the bank of the river. 
 
 Katherine was again wondering how far 
 they would have to go before they over- 
 took Lamington. The recent conversation 
 
 16
 
 242 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 had satisfied her for the time ; but as they 
 progressed without discovering any trace 
 of her lover, she was beginning again to 
 feel surprised that he should have left her 
 to traverse such a distance under the 
 guidance of any one save himself. She 
 did not like to express this feeling, because 
 already the guide had been displeased by 
 tier anxiety, which seemed so like doubt of 
 his fidelity. 
 
 They were within a few paces of the 
 glade when the friar halted and bowed his 
 head towards the ground, as if listening. 
 
 She watched him anxiously, and she too 
 listened. In the distance a faint halloo 
 was heard, and as the sound was repeated 
 it seemed to grow louder and nearer, as if 
 approaching them. 
 
 " Your absence is discovered," said the 
 friar, in a quick undertone. " We are 
 pursued. Speed now, if you care for
 
 THROUGH THE WOOD. 243 
 
 safety. We will find horses a few steps 
 farther on.'* 
 
 Katherine's doubts were dispelled by the 
 excitement which the peril of capture in- 
 spired, and she followed him without any 
 thought beyond that of eluding her pur- 
 suers. 
 
 As they passed out of the forest she saw 
 a second friar waiting with three horses. 
 She was not permitted time to make aijy 
 close observation of this new attendant. 
 
 Her guide hastily assisted her to mount, 
 and then sprang into the saddle of the 
 second horse with an agility which only 
 one accustomed to the exercise could have 
 displayed. His comrade being already in 
 the saddle, the horses started immediately. 
 As if by pre-arrangement, Katherine's 
 horse was placed between those of the 
 friars, and a leading rein was held by the 
 one who had brought her from the Priory.
 
 244 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 This arrangement she did not at first 
 perceive ; and even if she had perceived it 
 she would not have heen disturbed at the 
 moment. But when they reached the 
 river and their pace was necessarily 
 slackened in order to cross the ford, she 
 became aware that she rode more in the 
 character of a prisoner than of a willing 
 companion. 
 
 In mid stream she cast a troubled look 
 backward, and for the first time a serious 
 doubt arose in her mind as to whether the 
 pursuers were friends or foes. 
 
 Her guide observed her expression and 
 seemed to divine her thought. 
 
 " Your danger is nearly passed, sister," 
 he said, softly ; " once we have crossed the 
 river we may defy pursuit." 
 
 " But where is Lamington ? " 
 
 " Safe, safe. Be patient ; you will see 
 him soon enough."
 
 THROUGH THE WOOD. 245 
 
 " Why do you lead my horse ? " she 
 queried again, agitated by the evident 
 irritation of his last response, and that 
 vague memory of its tone returning to her. 
 
 " It is a wayward brute, and must be led 
 for your sake. But waste no more time 
 in questioning ; all your doubts will be 
 resolved presently." 
 
 She uttered a cry of alarm, for she had 
 recognized the voice at last. • 
 
 It was that of Sir Robert Cochrane. 
 
 As she uttered the cry, she gave the 
 reins a quick jerk, and attempted to turn 
 the horse's head, to recross the stream. 
 But the leading-rein, which Cochrane held 
 firmly, rendered the attempt futile. 
 
 Discovering the failure, and without 
 reflecting upon what she was about to do, 
 she made a movement to leap from the 
 saddle into the water. But Cochrane's 
 companion, as if prepared for such a
 
 246 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 desperate measure, grasped her round tlie 
 waist, and held her tightly on the seat. 
 
 She turned upon the man furiously, and 
 tore the friar's hood from his head, re- 
 vealing the stern features of her brother. 
 
 " Shame upon you, Richard Janfarie," 
 she cried, " to lend yourself to this black 
 scheme. But it shall not serve you. We 
 are followed by those who will give you 
 prompt payment for your falsehood." 
 
 She struggled with him violently, 
 screaming with all her strength, in the 
 hope that the pursuers might hear and 
 come to her assistance before her captors 
 were able to start the horses again. 
 
 *' Be still, madam," said Cochrane, 
 fiercely, at once throwing aside all effort 
 to disguise his voice or to conceal his pur- 
 pose. " Your cries will avail you as little 
 as your struggles. Those who follow us are 
 our men. I told you that they were pur-
 
 THROUGH THE WOOD. 247 
 
 suers only to quicken your pace. It was 
 no more than another part of the stratagem 
 which your obstinacy has compelled me to 
 use to make you sensible of your duty. 
 Be silent, I say, or we must use means 
 to still your tongue that I would fain 
 avoid." 
 
 Her heart sank at the revelation of the 
 device by which she had been betrayed ; 
 but as she heard the shouts of those who 
 followed, a faint hope presented itself. 
 
 He was capable of any deception, and it 
 might be that he was deceiving her again 
 in saying that the pursuers were only the 
 men of Johnstone. 
 
 Acting upon that suggestion, she re- 
 doubled her efforts to release herself, and 
 to attract the attention of any who might 
 be within hearing. But Janfarie held her 
 fast ; and Cochrane urged the horses out of 
 the water and up the embankment.
 
 248 I>^ LOYE AND WAE. 
 
 Then he halted, and with a cold smile 
 watching the effect which the discovery 
 might produce on her, permitted her to 
 look behind. 
 
 The small troop of Borderers had just 
 appeared from the wood, and were gallop- 
 ing down the hill to the river, only ceasing 
 their continuous halloo when they took the 
 ford and saw that their leaders awaited 
 them. 
 
 In a few minutes Katherine was sur- 
 rounded by the Borderers, and she com- 
 prehended then with what dexterity her 
 persecutor had arranged his plans ; for by 
 the simple means of causing the men to 
 follow he had guarded the retreat, and by 
 the alarm which the idea of pursuit had 
 caused her, she had not been permitted 
 time to reflect upon the manners of her 
 guide or to entertain more than a passing 
 suspicion of his purpose. She had, in fact,
 
 THROUGH THE WOOD. 249 
 
 become a willing companion in the flight 
 with the man whom of all the world she 
 would have most avoided. 
 
 She ceased her struggles now, for she 
 was bitterly satisfied of her helpless posi- 
 tion. She would have been hopeless too 
 had not her indignation sustained her. 
 
 " You have done brave work, gentle- 
 men," she said, contemptuously ; " and 
 you have won great honour in your treach- 
 erous triumph over a defenceless woman." 
 
 " I regret, madam," answered Cochrane, 
 suavely, " that you have forced us to adopt 
 these measures ; but if they offend you, the 
 blame rests with yourself. You will learn 
 by-and-by that in what we have done we 
 have studied your welfare more than our 
 own desires." 
 
 " You interpret baseness finely. Sir 
 Eobert Cochrane ; but you shall not make 
 me accept your reading of it."
 
 250 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 " There is the more to be regretted, since 
 yon mnst be gnided by it." 
 
 She tnrned to her brother. 
 
 " Are you so much this creature's slave 
 that you will not stretch forth your hand 
 to protect me from him ? " 
 
 " He is your husband," answered Jan- 
 farie, dourly. 
 
 " You would have me so," she cried with 
 flashing eyes ; " but iterate the claim until 
 your tongues are palsied you shall not find 
 me submit to it. Out upon you both — if 
 you were not conscious of the injustice of 
 your claim, why have you entrapped me 
 thus ? Why have you snatched me away 
 from the protection of the Lord Abbot, who 
 pledged himself to test your rights by the 
 judgment of the King himself ? " 
 
 " That I will answer," broke in Coch- 
 rane, coolly, whilst he adjusted his 
 feathered cap which had been brought
 
 THROUGH THE WOOD. 251 
 
 to him by one of the men to whom he 
 gave the friar's habit that he had hastily 
 taken off. 
 
 " Speak then," said Katherine, viewing 
 him haughtily; "and speak honestly, if 
 you can." 
 
 The desperate position in which she was 
 placed, the mental anguish she was endur- 
 ing, whipped her into a species of frenzy, 
 so that she spoke passionately, and without 
 any regard for the consequences of re- 
 doubled watchfulness which would ensue 
 upon her further irritating her persecutors. 
 
 " I have removed you from Abbot Pan- 
 ther's care, mistress," said Cochrane, frown- 
 ing, but still with a degree of politeness, 
 " because he is no fit guardian for one so 
 fliir, and because he is too partial a judge 
 of your position." 
 
 " He acted as a worthy man should have 
 done ; he was merciful to the weak, and he
 
 252 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 was just to you, who deserved it so little. 
 He offered you fair opportunity to prove 
 your truth." 
 
 " You do not know him as I do," was 
 the perfectly cool response. " You are too 
 rash, and in too high a temper to under- 
 stand these matters now; but I promise 
 you that before long you will be in a better 
 mood. As for the opportunity Panther 
 offered to me, it was one he had no power 
 to deny me, or he would have done so." 
 
 " It is your evil nature that sees all 
 hearts black as your own." 
 
 " You are wasting words, mistress ; but 
 I will give you no reason to complain of 
 my courtesy, and I will satisfy all your in- 
 quiries. I have already given you several of 
 my arguments for removing you from the 
 Abbot Panther's patronage. The most im- 
 portant argument of all, however, remains 
 to be told. Powerful as he may have
 
 THROUGH THE WOOD. 253 
 
 seemed to you in the isolated Priory of 
 Kells, he holds no place of credit in the 
 estimation of their Majesties ; and your 
 presentation by him would have been a 
 disgrace to you and to me." 
 
 " I am willing to take that risk. If he 
 is in disgrace at court it will be so much to 
 your advantage. Let me return to him, 
 since I accept the risk of what harm his 
 protection may do my cause." 
 
 " But I do not accept it, madam ; and 
 you must permit me to present you to their 
 Majesties, since I, who suffer most at your 
 hands, have the best reason to cry for 
 justice. I will do so in a manner that 
 even you shall not dare to impugn." 
 
 Katherine held her breath ; she could 
 scarcely believe that she had heard him 
 aright ; for she could not comprehend how 
 he, by whom she had been so wronged, 
 could be willing to place iii her hands the
 
 254 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 means of obtaining justice from an autho- 
 rity to whicli even he must submit. 
 
 " Will you take me to the Queen?" she 
 asked ; " will you take me without halt or 
 delay ? " 
 
 "As fast as horses can carry us," he 
 said, with the same tone of injured dignity 
 in which he had last spoken, "we shall 
 ride to Linlithgow." 
 
 " You will permit me to see the Queen 
 alone ? " 
 
 " If such is your pleasure — yes." 
 
 Janfarie spoke with a degree of relief, as 
 if his conscience, which had been burdened 
 by his share in his sister's present predica- 
 ment, were lightened — 
 
 " It was on these conditions," he said, 
 " that I consented to take part with Coch- 
 rane in the trick by which you have been 
 placed under our control." 
 
 " Dare I trust you ? " she asked, regard- 
 ing the men doubtingly.
 
 THROUGH THE WOOD. 255 
 
 " You must," retorted Cochrane, " for 
 you have no resource. But I pledge my 
 credit that you shall be carried to Linlith- 
 gow without delay ; and you may trust me 
 the more readily when you learn that my 
 own position is involved, and that for my 
 own sake I desire no better issue to the 
 unhappy misunderstanding between us 
 than that which the King may direct." 
 
 " Ride on, then," she said, firmly ; " since 
 I must trust you so far, I will be no hin- 
 drance to your speed." 
 
 Cochrane inclined his head coldly, and 
 made a motion with his hand to Janfarie. 
 The latter appeared to understand the 
 motion as a signal, and quietly fell behind, 
 retaining with him four men. 
 
 Katherine, surprised, and rendered, if 
 possible, more uncomfortable than before by 
 the retirement of her brother, observed 
 that amongst the four Borderers whom he
 
 256 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 retained was one of those who had been 
 engaged in the struggle with Lamington 
 at the Dumfries hostelry. 
 
 What was their purpose ? 
 
 She had not far to seek for an answer to 
 that question. Their purpose was to cover 
 the retreat, and probably by foul means to 
 prevent Lamington ever appearing at Lin- 
 lithgow to uphold his own cause and hers. 
 
 Her heart beat quick at the suspicion ; 
 but she was calmer now, and she saw that 
 any outburst on her part only served to 
 render her the more helpless in the hands 
 of her callous captor by increasing his 
 watchfulness. Therefore she remained 
 silent, although she sickened at her own 
 fancy of what might happen should 
 Richard Janfarie, burning with desire to 
 avenge his father's fall, and madly attri- 
 buting that misfortune to her lover, en- 
 counter Lamington,
 
 THROUGH THE WOOD. 257 
 
 Cochrane, without appearing to observe 
 her anxiety, directed the men to ride close ; 
 and then grasping the reins of his own 
 horse and the leading rein of hers tightly in 
 his hand, he urged the animals forward at 
 a rapid canter. He cast no look behind, 
 and he did not seem to give any attention 
 to his companion. His eyes appeared to be 
 fixed on the road straight before him, but 
 all the while with cunning side glances 
 he was noting every change of her coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 She rode beside him silent, angry, and 
 yet afraid. 
 
 17
 
 CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 IN CHASE. 
 
 ■ Gae, saddle me my coal-black steed, 
 Gae, saddle me my bonnie grey ; 
 
 An', warder, sound the rising note, 
 For we have far to ride to-day." 
 
 The TweeddaU Raide. 
 
 AMING-TON was conducted by 
 the Prior to Katherine's dormi- 
 tory. The door stood wide 
 open, and the chamber was "untenanted. 
 
 The first thought which occurred to 
 Lamington was that the Abbot had 
 conducted her to some other apartment, 
 and that the Prior had not been made
 
 m CHASE. 259 
 
 aware of the change. He recalled the 
 latter, who, without having entered the 
 room, was moving away. 
 
 The Prior, as soon as he had been made 
 aware of the absence of the lady, hastily 
 went in search of the Abbot. He returned 
 immediately, the prelate accompanying 
 him. 
 
 " This was the chamber in which I left 
 her," said the Abbot, looking round him in 
 perplexity and amazement ; " and I bade 
 her bar the door that she might not be 
 disturbed." 
 
 Inquiries were instantly made, and it 
 was discovered that the Borderers had 
 quitted the precincts of the Priory only a 
 few minutes before ; but no information as 
 to Cochrane could be obtained. 
 
 On examining the gatekeeper, they 
 learned that Richard Janfarie had de- 
 parted half an hour before his followers,
 
 260 IN LOYE AXD T^AR. 
 
 taking with him two extra horses. Further, 
 one of the men, who had been the last to 
 pass through the gateway, had left a scrap 
 of paper for Bertrand Gordon. 
 
 Lamington snatched the paper from the 
 man's hand. It was neatly folded, super- 
 scribed in a clear, clerkly style of penman- 
 ship, and it was sealed with Cochrane's 
 signet. He tore it open, and read : 
 
 " The lady has been wiser to-day than 
 she was yesterday. She acknowledges the 
 proper authority of her husband, and 
 accepts his protection of her own free will, 
 as she was bound to do by the most sacred 
 law. Renounce her : cease your mad 
 persecution of her, if you wish for success 
 in any venture that you make. Do not 
 seek to mar her peace again with your 
 presence if you wish to live. 
 
 " Robert Cochrane."
 
 m CHASE. 261 
 
 On reading this intimation that all 
 their efforts had been foiled, Lamington 
 knew that Katherine had been trepanned by 
 Cochrane's cunning ; but when he remem- 
 bered that the Abbot had advised her to 
 bar the door, and so keep out unwelcome 
 intruders, he remembered also that this 
 letter was corroborated by her treatment of 
 him in the morning, and a doubt disturbed 
 him. 
 
 But he flung the doubt from him with a 
 furious exclamation. 
 
 "No, I will not believe it. I will not 
 doubt her again until I learn from her own 
 lips that she has been deceiving us all. 
 She has been betrayed ; and he would foist 
 this lie upon me, to make me halt in the 
 pursuit." 
 
 " Right," muttered the Abbot, who had 
 taken the letter from him and was reading 
 it with frowning countenance; "right, it is
 
 262 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 a lie that he would foist upon you. But 
 how has he managed to hoodwink her 
 again?" 
 
 " No matter how the trick has been 
 accomplished, we must follow with all the 
 speed horses can make." 
 
 "Ay, follow," continued the Abbot, 
 apparently busy with some other thought. 
 " But in what direction ? " 
 
 " We will discover." 
 
 " He has a band of men to guard him, 
 and you are alone." 
 
 " I cannot stay to count these hazards. 
 When I reach him, I will consider in what 
 way to outwit him." 
 
 "Ay; but stay," muttered the Abbot, 
 reflectively ; " there is more in this than 
 the mere question of rescuing the lady 
 — much more than concerns your safety 
 and hers." 
 
 " What is your meaning ? "
 
 IN CHASE. 263 
 
 " This. He has got the start of us ; he 
 will reach the King before us, and his 
 representations being the first made, as he 
 is the first in the King's favour, will weigh 
 so heavily against us, that it will require 
 the strength of giants, and the subtle craft 
 of the magician, to enable us to steer our 
 way through this storm that is breaking- 
 over us." 
 
 " He will not dare to present such a 
 cause to his Majesty." 
 
 " He will dare anything ; it is the very 
 boldness of his flights which, astounding all 
 men, and leaving them inactive, have 
 permitted him to reach the eyrie he now 
 occupies. You must not judge him by 
 any common rascal, for whilst you watch 
 for him creeping stealthily to his purpose 
 in the dark, he will dash at it — ay, and 
 attain it — in the broad light of day." 
 
 " You have read his character closely,
 
 264 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 I can believe ; but in what manner will 
 your knowledge of it serve us in the 
 present strait ? " 
 
 " I fear that it will serve us little ; but it 
 will, at least, direct us in tbe course we 
 should attempt." 
 
 " Then that is to pursue the reptile, and 
 strike him down without remorse." 
 
 " And be yourself doomed to forfeit life, 
 or to be a hopeless fugitive from the land. 
 We must meet him with his own weapons 
 — courage and cunning ; the first, to dare 
 any charge that he may make, and to seize 
 upon it as an instrument to strike him 
 back ; the second, to guide the weapon to 
 the vulnerable part of his armour." 
 
 " In the saints' name, what part is that ?" 
 cried Gordon, impatiently. "Since you will 
 not touch his life, how and where can you 
 harm him ? " 
 
 " In his disgrace. Once degrade him in
 
 IN CHASE. 265 
 
 the King's eyes — once assure his Majesty 
 of the real character of his favourite, and 
 Cochrane will fall beneath our feet to be 
 trampled upon and crushed out of memory, 
 as a worthless wretch deserves." 
 
 "And if you fail?" 
 
 " Then we will pay dearly for our 
 temerity ; and, in faith, there is much 
 danger of our losing what little hold we 
 have at present ; for if he reach Linlith-* 
 gow before me, you will find my presence 
 at court forbidden. Give him that triumph, 
 and he will sweep every other obstacle 
 from his path. Albany and Mar them- 
 selves may then have reason to dread his 
 power, for their nighness to the throne 
 may readily be made the means of alarming 
 the present wearer of the crown." 
 
 " He has not obtained that triumph yet, 
 and swift action on our part may place it 
 for ever beyond his reach."
 
 266 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 " We will try it. You follow him, and 
 delay his progress by any means you can 
 find, short of running him through. Take 
 this signet, and if you show it to any of 
 our friends on the route they will give you 
 what assistance you need." 
 
 " Who are the friends ?" queried Grordon, 
 placing the ring on his finger. 
 
 " I will give you a list of them ; any 
 one of them will place twenty men at your 
 command at an hour's warning." 
 
 The Abbot retired to prepare the list of 
 gentlemen, whose service he knew might 
 be counted upon. Lamington proceeded to 
 the stable to saddle his horse. This task 
 he performed rapidly, for a knight, whose 
 career in those times was fraught with so 
 many surprises and dangers, was bound to 
 accustom himself to every duty that the 
 accidents, of war or feudal strife might 
 require of him.
 
 IN CHASE. 267 
 
 In a few minutes he led the horse out 
 to the court, and was ready to start. He 
 was presently joined by the Abbot, who 
 placed a small tablet in his hand con- 
 taining more than a dozen names of nobles 
 and barons. 
 
 " Master this list as you ride forward," 
 said his lordship, " and then destroy the 
 scroll ; for although it would be difficult 
 to make it hurtful to any of our friends in 
 its present form, we cannot calculate what 
 harm it might do them if it fell into the 
 hands of one clever enough to give it the 
 appearance of treason." 
 
 "I will have it by rote before I have 
 ridden ten miles." 
 
 " That is well ; but do not slacken your 
 speed, for Cochrane must be stayed at any 
 hazard." 
 
 " And you ? " 
 
 " I ride hence on the instant and make
 
 268 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 for Linlithgow without halt or pause. 
 Away, and Heaven speed you, for the 
 fortunes of a State may depend on your 
 success or failure." 
 
 " If I fail to bar his passage, and to be 
 ready in answer to your summons to appear 
 before the King, reckon me amongst the 
 dead." 
 
 The gate was thrown open ; the keeper 
 indicated in what direction the Borderers 
 had ridden, and Lamington galloped away 
 from the Priory with heart strung to 
 desperate resolution. 
 
 The sun had passed the meridian : the 
 bright tinge which gilds the fields and 
 trees in the morning, had faded, and a 
 dull shade was creeping over grass and 
 leaves. The change was a delicate one, 
 and only perceptible in certain moods ; 
 but in that mood the mind becomes keenly 
 sensitive to the dulness which succeeds
 
 m CHASE. 269 
 
 the glitter of the morning light, when 
 nature assumes an appearance like that of 
 a polished mirror which has been breathed 
 upon. The wind, too, seems to become 
 chiller and to whisper through the woods 
 with more melancholy voice — all with an 
 inexpressible subtlety suggesting the ap- 
 proaching shadows of the night ; and to 
 a mind influenced by circumstances, sug- 
 gestive of the shades of fortune. There 
 
 • 
 
 was, besides, a quietude in the atmosphere, 
 disturbed only at intervals by that sad 
 murmur of the wind, the lowing of kine, 
 or the baying of a hound, which oppressed 
 the man with a sense of weakness. He 
 had sufficient of the fanciful in his nature 
 to feel these things, but his present mission 
 was of too high import, and his desire for 
 retribution too strong, to permit them to 
 obtain entire sway over his mind. 
 
 He thrust all fancies aside, and setting
 
 270 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 himself firmly on his seat galloped forward, 
 skirting the wood, and, led by instinct or 
 by fate, proceeded directly towards the 
 ford of the Ken where those whom he 
 pursued had crossed. 
 
 He had covered something more than 
 half the distance between the Priory and 
 the river, when his pace was suddenly 
 checked by the sound of a loud and anxious 
 halloo, proceeding from amongst the trees. 
 
 He drew rein, for the voice sounded 
 familiarly in his ears, and presently a 
 large black dog bounded out from the 
 wood towards him, followed immediately 
 by Muckle Will. The hound danced 
 sportively round about the horse's feet, and 
 Will, with long swinging strides, ran up 
 to his master. 
 
 The big, simple-looking fellow was very 
 red in the face at this moment ; his cheeks 
 were swollen, and he was panting for
 
 m CHASE. 271 
 
 breath as if he had been running some 
 distance. He rested his hand upon the 
 horse, the while he looked eagerly in his 
 master's face, making signs towards the 
 river and uttering some sounds which 
 were at first unintelligible. 
 
 " Take time, Will, take time," said the 
 master, with difficulty controlling his im- 
 patience so that his follower might not 
 be farther excited ; " take a long breath, 
 and let me know what your grimacing 
 means." 
 
 "The leddy, man, the leddy," gasped 
 Will, waving his hand in the direction 
 whence he had come. 
 
 Lamington's blood tingled with hope. 
 
 " You have seen her," he said quickly. 
 
 " Ay, down yonder at the ford," re- 
 joined Will, still panting, but rapidly 
 regaining his breath. 
 
 " When — how — with whom ? "
 
 272 IN" LOVE AND WAE. 
 
 Will stared a minute as if trying to fix 
 the questions in liis memory, and then : 
 
 " Whan — it was just as lang since as it 
 has taken me to run frae the water to here. 
 I was coming to ye at the Priory as ye 
 direckit me last night, but I gaed roun' by 
 the tower to warn the auld folks that ye 
 was coming " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; but the lady ? " 
 
 " Weel, I'm gaun to tell ye — I was comin' 
 doon by Balmaclellan to join ye, when, 
 just as I got near the ford, I heard a 
 woman skirling like a kelpie, and syne, 
 when I got down to the hough, I saw 
 the leddy — your leddy — among a wheen 
 doomed scoundrels, and no a sowl to help 
 her." 
 
 " Did you make no attempt ? " 
 
 " What could Stark and me do among 
 mair nor a dozen ? We'd just have 
 gotten our crouns cracked, and ye wouldna
 
 IN CHASE. 273 
 
 have heard a cheep aboiit the business. 
 Na, na; we havena muckle wit, but we 
 have enough to keep whole bones when 
 there's no chance of winning onything by 
 broken anes. So we just got cannily by, 
 and syne ran on to give ye warning." 
 
 " What road have they taken ? " 
 
 " The straight road through the Glen- 
 kens. They'll pass within bow-shot of the 
 tower." 
 
 " Hasten on to the Priory, seek the Abbot, 
 and acquaint him with what you have dis- 
 covered. Then ask him to give you a horse, 
 and follow me." 
 
 " Ye dinna mean that ye are gaun on 
 yoursel' to tackle a' thae loons with your 
 ain hand ? " 
 
 " I must pursue them. I have means of 
 obtaining help when it is needed." 
 
 " Ye're daft. They'll murder ye without 
 speiring whether ye like it or no." 
 
 18
 
 274 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 "Do as I have told you, and overtake 
 me if you can. They are sure to halt at 
 some stage of their journey." 
 
 " Let me gang wi' ye enoo," pleaded the 
 fellow. 
 
 " You must have a horse — you cannot 
 keep pace with me on foot." 
 
 " I might lift a brute at the first house 
 we came to." 
 
 " How, sirrah ? Do you propose that to 
 me ? Do as I have told you ; it will he the 
 quickest way in the end, and your infor- 
 mation will be of service to the Abbot." 
 
 " Let Stark gang wi' ye onyway ; he'll 
 keep ye on the right road after them. 
 They're no riding unco fast, and maybe 
 they'll be taking some by-roads ; but Stark 
 will match them." 
 
 " Yes, let him go with me, and you come 
 after us without delay." 
 
 "I'll be with ye before ye hae gotten
 
 m CHASE. 275 
 
 muckle farther than Black Larg " — then 
 addressing himself to the dog and making 
 excited gestures to help his words, he went 
 on : " Here, Stark, take the road and follow 
 the leddy, man. Doon, doon ! I'll soon be 
 wi' ye. Be a guid dog and show the 
 maister where the leddy is. Awa' wi' ye." 
 
 The hound, as if understanding every 
 word, gave vent to a loud yelp ; and with 
 nose bent to the ground, set off at full 
 speed to the ford. 
 
 Lamington galloped after his strange 
 guide, and Muckle Will started at a run for 
 the Priory. 
 
 The dog led the way across the ford, and 
 up to the mound on which Cochrane had 
 halted to permit Katherine to recognize the 
 Borderers, and to realize the helplessness 
 of her position. Stark paused a moment 
 there, and then with a short yelp continued 
 the route, taking the road through the
 
 276 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 Glenkens wliicli Muckle Will had suggested 
 as the one Cochrane and his company had 
 intended to follow. 
 
 The dark irregular line of Black Larg 
 raised its giant form high ahove him, and 
 the grim summits of the lesser mountains 
 • — grim in their bareness of vegetation, and 
 with their dark brows of rock — seemed to 
 gather around him as he advanced. At 
 one point of the road his own tower of 
 Lamington lay at only a short distance to 
 the east, nearly at the foot of the Larg, 
 which overshadowed and protected it. But 
 he had no time to give a thought to his 
 ancient home, to which, only a little while 
 ago, he had hoped to lead a bride. It was 
 a desolate enough place for a bride's retreat, 
 but he had thought only of the brightness 
 her presence would make there, and of the 
 strength her love would give him to win 
 back the lands and honour of his family.
 
 IN CHASE. 277 
 
 But these thoughts were far removed 
 now. He was like -a hunter in full chase, 
 and he had no heed for anything save the 
 quarry. 
 
 At the base of the Larg, the road made 
 a sudden and sharp ascent, and a spur of 
 the mountain closed the view of the path 
 he had to follow. Passing round this spur, 
 he suddenly came upon a man in friar's 
 garb, standing in the middle of the way, 
 so motionless that he might have been a 
 figure of stone. 
 
 The hound sniffed at him, and with a 
 growl passed on. 
 
 Lamington was guiding his horse so 
 that he might pass without injuring the 
 friar, and in acknowledgment of the office 
 of which his hood and gown were the 
 symbols, he incHned his head. The friar 
 abruptly raised his hand, warningly, and 
 seemed desirous of speaking.
 
 278 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 The rider halted, for at the movement 
 the idea occurred to him that this man 
 might be able to give him some information 
 about Katherine and her captors.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE DRUIDS' CIRCLE. 
 
 ' The rugged mountain's scanty cloak 
 Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, 
 With shingles bare, and cliffs between, 
 And patches bright of bracken green, 
 And heather black that waved so high, 
 It held the copse in rivalry." 
 
 Scott. 
 
 EFORE it could be brought to 
 a stand, the horse had passed 
 the friar and left him several 
 yards behind. Lamington waited for him 
 to approach, and the man, observing this, 
 advanced slowly, with an appearance of 
 stiffness in his gait.
 
 280 m LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 The moment he had reached the side of 
 the horse the animal swerved from him, 
 hut the rider, with a firm hand, checked 
 this eccentricity ; at the same time the 
 hound, which had gone on before, came 
 running back and gambolled in front of 
 the horse, barking sharply, and making an 
 occasional run along the road, as if in- 
 viting its temporary master to follow. 
 
 " Quiet, Stark," said Lamington. 
 
 The dog ceased barking and hung its 
 tail, but it began to move round and round 
 the friar, growling as if dissatisfied, until 
 again reproved, when it sat down with its 
 large clear eyes fixed upon the stranger 
 suspiciously. 
 
 " You would speak to me, father ? " said 
 Gordon respectfully ; " and I have a favour 
 to crave from you." 
 
 The friar answered in a husky voice, so 
 evidently assumed that nothing save his
 
 THE DRIJIDS' CmCLE. 281 
 
 impatience to push forward, and the con- 
 centration of his thoughts on the one 
 subject, could have prevented Lamington 
 from, observing it. There was even a 
 gruffness in the friar's manner, as if the 
 civiHty with which he spoke was feigned 
 much against his wilh 
 
 " I seek nothing for myself, Sir Knight," 
 was the slowly-pronounced answer ; " but 
 I have passed a party of men who seemed 
 to be carrying a gentle lady prisoner. 
 What harm she may have done I could not 
 learn, but she looked too young and fair to 
 be very guilty." 
 
 Lamington's pulse bounded with ex- 
 ultation. 
 
 " Good father, you give me the tidings I 
 am seeking for," he cried eagerly. " In 
 the saints' name, tell me speedily — how 
 long is it since you passed them ? Speak, 
 father, I pray you."
 
 282 m LOVE AND WAK. 
 
 " Barely half an hour gone. They had 
 halted in a retired part of the glen, the 
 lady having been taken with sickness." 
 
 " Quick, direct me to the place." 
 
 " If you will help the lady, I will guide 
 you thither." 
 
 "Heaven will bless you for the kindly 
 office. I accept your offer with all the 
 gratitude that a despairing man can give 
 to one who saves him from uttermost 
 agony." 
 
 " Follow, then." 
 
 " Stay, father ; you shall mount and I 
 will walk, for I am swifter of foot than 
 you can be." 
 
 " Keep your horse. Sir Knight ; you 
 shall have no cause to complain of my 
 pace." 
 
 Subdued as his manner was, he made 
 this response with a degree of dogged 
 resolution which prevented Gordon from
 
 THE DRUIDS' CIRCLE. 283 
 
 pressing his courtesy. He, however, dis- 
 mounted, and walked by the horse's head, 
 the rein thrown across his arm. He was 
 induced thus to place himself on an 
 equality with his guide, first by his respect 
 for the man's apparent profession, and next 
 by his sense of his own inability to control 
 his anxiety without some more muscular 
 action than he could obtain by sitting on 
 the horse whilst it moved at a pace suffi- 
 cient to keep him abreast with his guide. 
 
 Slight as the exercise was, it helped him 
 to maintain a degree of calmness, and to 
 reflect upon the course of conduct he 
 should adopt when he found himself within 
 reach of his enemies. 
 
 He was neither so vain-glorious nor so 
 deficient in common sense as to imagine 
 that he, unaided, could possibly cope with 
 a dozen determined men with the slightest 
 prospect of success. He knew that strata-
 
 284 IN LOYE AND WAR. 
 
 gem must be his chief weapon in the 
 contest he was about to wage. 
 
 The friar made no comment upon 
 Lamington's respectful arrangement, and 
 taking the opposite side of the horse, strode 
 forward with a rapidity which would 
 scarcely have been expected from him if he 
 had been judged by the gait of his first 
 approach. 
 
 The guide presently struck off the road 
 and entered a small glen, through which a 
 burn whimpled with a clear sharp song, 
 and sparkled like crystal as it leapt over 
 the stones lying in its course, worn smooth 
 by its constant flow, or formed into green 
 balls by the moss which clothed them. 
 The fir with its brown cones, the ash, the 
 thorn, and the dwarf oak, flourished in the 
 den, and imparted to it an appearance of 
 luxuriant herbage that contrasted pictur- 
 esquely with the bare-browed mountains
 
 THE DRUIDS' CIRCLE. 285 
 
 which gazed in frowning grandeur down 
 upon it from all sides. 
 
 Following the friar, Gordon crossed the 
 burn and advanced toward the head of the 
 glen. As he was still leading the horse, 
 his progress was interfered with by the 
 thick growth of the trees, and the guide 
 consequently outpaced him. The glen was 
 closed in, at the end they were approaching, 
 by a steep hill, over which the burn leapt 
 in a silvery line of spray, forming a minia- 
 ture waterfall and a prism through which 
 the sunlight was reflected in bright colours. 
 
 At this point the sides of the glen were 
 also scarplike, and Gordon observed at 
 once that it would be impossible to take 
 bis horse by that route to the height above. 
 
 He was perplexed for an instant, and 
 gazed eagerly around, fancying that he 
 must be near the end of his journey, and 
 that Cochrane's party was probably lurkijig
 
 286 IN LOVE AND WAE. 
 
 somewhere near, concealed from him by 
 the intervening foKage. 
 
 The guide paused until his companion 
 had reached his side ; then pointing to the 
 steepest part of the hill, which was 
 covered with whins, he spoke : 
 
 " We must ascend there." 
 
 He began immediately to make his way 
 up through the brush-wood without waiting 
 reply. 
 
 " I must leave the horse here, then," 
 said Lamington. 
 
 " You can tie it to a branch ; it will be 
 safe enough," answered the friar, without 
 looking back. 
 
 " Are those I seek near ? " queried Gor- 
 don, subduing his voice, and of necessity 
 following the suggestion made to secure 
 his horse. 
 
 " Yery near. You will see them when 
 you have crossed the hill yonder."
 
 THE DRUIDS' CIRCLE. 287 
 
 Laming ton sprang up the brae after liim, 
 clearing his way and keeping his footing 
 on the slope with the ease of one accus- 
 tomed to such feats. 
 
 It did not occur to him that the point 
 they were approaching might have been 
 attained by another path, and without the 
 necessity of leaving his horse behind him. 
 Neither did he reflect that should emer- 
 gency arise it would be almost impossible 
 for him to lead the animal out of the thicket 
 which now enclosed it, without the loss 
 of much time and the expenditure of some 
 trouble. His present object was to recon- 
 noitre, not to attack. He had no reason to 
 doubt the fidelity of his guide, and con- 
 sequently he could not suspect that he had 
 been purposely conducted in this direction 
 in order to be deprived of the service of 
 the horse, should it become necessary to 
 attempt an escape from unequal foes.
 
 288 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 But Stark, the hound, moved by some 
 mysterious instinct, was suspicious of the 
 whole proceeding from the first, and 
 showed by every sign short of speech its 
 anxiety to lead its present master away 
 from the danger on which he was rushing 
 blindfold. His distrust of the friar was 
 marked from the beginning, and several 
 times he caught the edge of Lamington's 
 cloak, attempting to drag him back. But 
 the knight would not attend to these mute 
 signals of peril. He trusted to the man, 
 and he failed to understand the hound, 
 which seemed to be sensible from the 
 moment they quitted the regular road that 
 they were not following the track of the 
 lady, in whose footsteps Stark had been 
 directed by Will to lead the master. 
 
 Repeatedly Gordon bade the hound keep 
 down, and the poor brute, submissive to 
 every command^ would slink back for a few
 
 THE DRUIDS' CIRCLE. 289 
 
 minutes, and then renew its attempt to 
 attract attention and to alter the course, 
 but only to be again repulsed. 
 
 When Lamington quitted the horse and 
 began to climb the steep brae, Starlv 
 uttered a low growl that was half a whine, 
 and instantly leapt up to the top of the 
 hill and planted itself in the knight's 
 path, as if to prevent him proceeding 
 farther. 
 
 The friar, who had by this time gained 
 the top, darted a quick angry glance at the 
 dog and paused, after moving a few paces 
 from the brow of the den. He watched 
 with apparent eagerness for the appearance 
 of Lamington, and, when the latter rose 
 out of the glen and thrust the dog aside 
 from his path, the friar's lips twitched 
 whilst a smile of satisfaction overspread his 
 features. 
 
 At the moment an eagle swooped over 
 
 19
 
 290 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 the heads of the men, seemed to stoop 
 toward them, and again rose into space. 
 
 The shadow of the broad wings appeared 
 to lower upon Lamington Kke an omen of 
 coming evil. 
 
 But he neither observed the shadow, nor 
 would have heeded it even had he per- 
 ceived it, so intent was he upon the object 
 of his journey. 
 
 The dog embarrassed him by leaping 
 upon him and trying to drag him back, so 
 that he spoke sharply ; and Stark, hanging 
 his tail between his legs, fell behind, but 
 continued to watch the guide. 
 
 The friar, as soon as he saw his com- 
 panion ready to follow him, moved west- 
 ward into the wildest part of the Glenkens, 
 and appeared so eager to push forward that 
 he gave Lamington no time to ask ques- 
 tions. 
 
 The route they traversed was wild and
 
 THE DRUIDS' CIRCLE. 291 
 
 picturesque ; its solitudes were evidently 
 rarely disturbed by human footsteps. Wild- 
 fowl sprang from their nests, the fox 
 scoured across their path, and the eagle, 
 lord of the bird tribe, was startled from his 
 eyry by the intrusion of man. Around 
 them lay the dark dens and the wooded 
 gullies of the Grienkens, with rivulets like 
 threads of silver marking the hill-sides. 
 Above them were the dark peaks of the 
 mountains tipped with the sunlight, but 
 still wearing a sombre brow, and rising- 
 like dumb giants keeping watch and ward 
 over the romantic and solitary passes 
 beneath. 
 
 " The course is longer than I bargained 
 for," said Grordon, as he stalked beside his 
 silent conductor. 
 
 The latter raised his hand, pointing to 
 a narrow pass which they were approach- 
 ing.
 
 292 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 " The end of your journey lies yonder," 
 he answered in a low tone, which seemed 
 to obtain a peculiar significance from the 
 place and the speaker's manner. 
 
 The pass was formed by two jutting 
 boulders of rock which seemed to have 
 burst out of the hill-sides, and to have 
 been abruptly arrested in their career 
 toward each other by some sudden freak of 
 nature. The space between them would 
 barely have permitted three men to walk 
 abreast, and the pass might have been 
 kept by one stout man against fifty. 
 
 This narrow cleft made a natural portal 
 to a scene of solemn grandeur. The pass 
 opened upon an amphitheatre of hills, 
 which formed the colossal frame of a plain 
 of considerable extent. In the centre of the 
 plain were seven huge boulders of rock, 
 placed at regular intervals, and marking a 
 perfect circle. The stones were so large
 
 THE DRUIDS* CIRCLE. 293 
 
 that it was difficult to imagine how tliey 
 could have been placed there by human 
 effort — how they could have been carried 
 across the mountains and placed in their 
 respective positions with such mathe- 
 matical accuracy. 
 
 That they could not have been placed 
 thus by any eruption of nature was evident 
 from the character of the foundation, and 
 the fact that they were clearly not linljed 
 to the soil in any way. The regularity of 
 their arrangement was also an argument 
 that they had been placed there by artificial 
 means. More marvellous still, a large 
 centre rock was so nicely balanced on a 
 partially rounded base that it could be 
 moved to and fro by the touch of a man's 
 hand, although the united strength of 
 twenty men could not have shifted it from 
 its position. This was known as the 
 '" rocking-stone," and several similar stones 
 
 19—3
 
 294 IX LOVE AND AVAR. 
 
 have been found in the Glenkens, to this 
 day bearing testimony to the strange 
 powers possessed by the ancient Druids. 
 
 The seven stones marking the ring was 
 called the Druids' circle; and their grim 
 forms studding the plain combined with 
 the grand silence of the hills to impart an 
 atmosphere of mystery to the place. 
 
 Another peculiarity must be noted ; out- 
 side the Druids* circle, and indicating the 
 cardinal points of the compass, four i>it8 
 had been dug. A fifth pit had been made 
 within the circle, near the rocking-stone ; 
 this one was half full of water when 
 Lamington was led to the place. 
 
 The pits were of the kind which have 
 lK>come known as murder-holes, for the 
 reason already explained that they were 
 used by the barons, who had power of pit 
 and gallows, to punish malefactors simi- 
 marily. The number of these holes spread
 
 THE DRUIDB* CIRCLE. 295 
 
 over the district, and still visible, suggest 
 that at one period there must have been a 
 good deal of prompt justice or vengeance 
 executed. 
 
 The place was known to Lamington, but 
 at this moment its weird aspect affected 
 him with an unaccountable sense of depres- 
 sion, and the total absence of any sign of 
 Cochrane's party perplexed him exceed- 
 ingly. He had expected to hav^ been 
 brought within view of those he sought the 
 instant he emerged from the pass, and here 
 was nothing but a solitary space with its 
 silent guardians looking grimly on. 
 
 The friar advanced straight to the rock- 
 ing-stone and there halted, wheeling round 
 and facing his companion. 
 
 " We are at the end of our journey," he 
 said, morosely. 
 
 Lamington looked round hastily to assure 
 himself again that there were none save
 
 296 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 themselves within the range of the Druids' 
 circle. Then, turning to his guide, 
 sternly : 
 
 " How, sir, you promised to conduct me 
 to the halting-place of a party of Borderers, 
 into whose hands an unhappy lady had 
 been betrayed. If this be a trick to delay 
 me in my course, it is one for which your 
 hood will barely save you a whipping." 
 
 The friar deliberately removed his hood, 
 and revealed the person of Eichard Janfarie. 
 
 Lamington for a second was confounded 
 by this transformation. The trick, of which 
 he had been made so readily the dupe, 
 was plain to him now ; and the vain efforts 
 of Stark to warn him of the deception 
 recurred to him with bitter regret that he 
 had been so blind — so obstinately blind — 
 as to have refused all heed to the warning, 
 when there might have been time to take 
 advantage of it.
 
 THE DRUIDS' CIRCLE. 297 
 
 But regret was of no service, and he 
 roused himself immediately to action. 
 
 " By the saints, Janfarie," he cried, 
 angrily, " any other than you would have 
 paid dearly for having duped me in this 
 fashion." 
 
 " I am ready to pay the forfeit — readier 
 perhaps than any other might have been," 
 Janfarie responded dourly ; " therefore be 
 at ease ; your rage shall not lack a butt 
 to strike at." 
 
 "I cannot find that butt in you," said 
 Gordon, troubled by his thoughts of Kathe- 
 rine, and of the prolongation of her 
 anguish by his failure to overtake her 
 captors, " and there is no time for words 
 to reprobate your treachery — ay, and your 
 cruelty to one whose happiness you should 
 have been the first to defend." 
 
 " My hand shall never be raised to pro- 
 tect a false wife, and the wretch who has 
 made her false."
 
 298 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 Grordon's blood tingled and his eyes 
 flashed fiercely, but he checked his rising 
 passion with a mighty elFort, and answered 
 calmly, although his lips trembled slightly. 
 
 " You are her brother, and therefore you 
 know that you are safe from me ; but you 
 shall discover yet how villainously you 
 have belied your sister and me." 
 
 " I, safe from you ! — then, by my sword, 
 you shall learn speedily that you are not 
 safe from me. You should have stayed 
 your hand in time, if kinship to her had 
 any sanctity in your sight. Fix your eyes 
 on this," he said, pointing to the mourning 
 badge on his arm, '' and then you will 
 imderstand why I have brought you here, 
 and how little your professions of amity 
 will help you against my vengeance for 
 my father's fate." 
 
 " You know that I am blameless of his 
 fall — you know that I would have pro-
 
 THE DRUIDS' CIRCLE. 299 
 
 tected him with my own life had I been 
 near when danger threatened him ; but 
 your mad rage, and your blind faith in 
 Cochrane, render you as incapable of com- 
 prehending my motives as of seeing that 
 you are befooled by a knave." 
 
 " You think so," he muttered, sneeringly. 
 
 " Some day, when it is too late to save 
 yourself, you will learn that he has be- 
 trayed you as he has done all others. But 
 I have no time to reason with you. Fare- 
 well ; when we meet next I trust that you 
 may know me better." 
 
 Lamington made a movement to retrace 
 his steps, but Janfarie sprung forward and 
 planted himself in his path. 
 
 " I told you that we had reached the end 
 of our journey here. Only one of us can 
 leave this place alive." 
 
 " Stand aside, madman. I cannot draw 
 on you."
 
 300 IN LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 Janfarie pointed again to his badge and 
 unsheathed his sword. 
 
 At the same time from behind four of the 
 huge Druid stones appeared four Borderers, 
 and Lamington saw that he had fallen into 
 a carefully planned ambuscade. 
 
 END OF A^OL. I. 
 
 I-RINTED AT THE CAXTON PRESS, BECCLES. 5. tt H.