side? Their private life had not always run
smoothly, for if in one way they were well mated, because both were of
the eagle breed, in another way, they were ill-suited, because they
were so like. John Graham and Jean Cochrane both came of proud houses
which loved to rule, and were not accustomed to yield, they both had
iron and determined wills, they shared the dubious gift of a lofty
temper and fiery affections. They were set upon their own ways, and
so they had clashed many a time in plan and deed; hot words had passed
between them, and they had been days without speech. But below the
tumult of contending wills, and behind the flash of fiery hearts, they
were bound together by the passion of their first love, which had
grown and deepened, and by that respect which strong and honorable
people have for one another. They could rage, but each knew that the
other could not lie; they could be most unreasonable, but each knew
that the other could never descend to dishonor, so their quarrels had
always one ending, and seemed, after they were over, to draw them
closer together and to feed their love. One could not think of them as
timid and gentle creatures, billing and cooing their affection; one
rather imagined the lion and his lioness, whose very love was fierce
and perilous. No power from without could separate these two nor make
them quail. Alone and united Dundee and his wife could stand
undismayed and self-sufficient, with all Scotland against them.
Nothing could ever break their bond except dishonor. But if one should
charge the other with that foulest crime, then the end had come,
beside which death would be welcome. Where life is a comedy one
writes with gayety not untouched by contempt; where life is a tragedy
one writes with tears not unredeemed by pride. But one shrinks when
the tragedy deepens into black night, and is terrified when strong
passions, falling on an evil day, work their hot wills, with no
restraining or favorable fate. There are people whose life is a
primrose path along which they dance and prattle, whose emotions are a
pose, whose thoughts are an echo, whose trials are a graceful luxury;
there are others whose way lies through dark ravines and beside raging
torrents, over whose head the black clouds are ever lowering, and whom
any moment the lightning may strike. This was their destiny. Upon
their marriage day one saw the way that these two would have to go,
and it was inevitable that they should