d, with a
cold, clear voice, which did not quite hide the underlying emotion,
"and we have this day paid our visit to Dundee--to get a chill
welcome and find Dudhope empty. It was a pity that we missed the
messenger, Lady Dundee, who doubtless sought for us diligently, for if
we had known where you were when we left Glamis this morning, it had
been easy--aye, and in keeping with my mind--to turn aside and visit
Glenogilvie." They were still standing in the hall, and Jean had begun
to realize that Dundee was changed, and that behind this cold courtesy
some fire was burning. When they were alone she would, in other
circumstances, have cast herself in the proud surrender of a strong
woman's love into his arms, and he would have kissed her hair, her
forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, her chin, and, last, her mouth; but at
the sight of his eyes she stood apart, and straightening herself, Jean
said: "What is the meaning of this look, John, and what ails you? Ye
seem as if ye had suffered some cruel blow. Has aught gone wrong with
you? Ye have come back in hot haste."

"Yes, my Lady Dundee, something wrong with me, and maybe worse with
you. I have come quicker than I intended, and have had a somewhat cold
reception at Dundee, but I grant you that was not your blame, you had
doubtless prepared a warmer. Livingstone was the laggard."

"You are angry, John, and I now understand the cause. It was not my
blame, for what woman could do I did, and maybe more than becometh
your wife, to win him over. He almost consented, and I declare to you
that Livingstone is with us. I could have sworn two days ago that the
regiment would have joined us and been waiting for you. But that
determined Whig, Captain Balfour, discovered the plot, and I had a
message yesterday afternoon that it was hopeless. So for fear of
arrest I hurried to Glenogilvie, and tried to intercept your coming.
Blame not me, for I could do no more--and what mean you by calling me
ever by my title and not by my name, after our parting for so long and
dangerous a time?"

"You are right, Jean Cochrane, and I will do you this justice, ye
could not do more than meet him in the orchard and in the dark of the
night. Yes, ye were both seen, and word was brought me to the north by
a faithful messenger--I judge the only true heart left. That was fine
doing and fine pleading, when he confessed that you had won his heart,
but his honor was hindering him. Ye cannot deny the words, they a