ed between them during those days, but Jean knew that for the
first time her heart had been touched, and Claverhouse, who had seen
all kinds of women and had been indifferent to them all, and who for
the beauty of him had been tempted at Court quite shamelessly and had
remained cold as ice, understood at last the attraction of a maid for
a man, and also realized that Jean Cochrane was a fit mate for him
because her spirit was as high as his own.

They were trying days for Lady Cochrane in her self-enforced
seclusion, and her temper was not improved by the news, brought
diligently to her by her waiting-maid, that her daughter was doing her
utmost to make the persecutor's time pass pleasantly. Her mother had
no suspicion at this point that Jean was really wavering in loyalty to
the good cause, but as a woman with insight and discernment she knew
the danger to which Jean was exposed, and blamed herself for her own
inconvenient pride. What if by way of putting a slight on this arch
enemy she were to sacrifice her own child? It was impossible, of
course, that any daughter of hers should ever allow her affections to
be entangled by the murderer of the saints, and Claverhouse dared not,
if he would, marry a Cochrane, for he might as well throw up his
commission and join Henry Pollock at the next preaching on the moors.
But foolish ideas might come into the girl's head, and it was said
that Claverhouse could appear as an angel of light. It might be as
well to strengthen and safeguard her daughter against the wiles of the
wicked one, so she summoned her to her room, and, as her manner was,
dealt with Jean in a straightforward and faithful fashion. Lady
Cochrane had, however, learned that her daughter could not be
browbeaten or captured by direct assault, but that, however thorough
might be her own mind and uncompromising her will, she would have to
walk warily with Jean.

"It was an ill wind that blew that evil man to this castle, and an ill
work, I make no doubt, he has been after in this district. He came
like a bloodhound to catch Henry Pollock, and like a fox to get what
news he could about Sir John. What he lingers for his master only
knows, but it grieves me, lassie, that ye have had the burden of him
on your shoulders. They are too light, though they may be stronger
than most, for such a weight; I will not deny your spirit, but he, as
the Proverb goes, must have a lang spoon to sup wi' the deil. Has he
spoken civilly"--