illness like the peace of God lies on the place. I do not expect the
Kingdom of Heaven very much to surpass Earlstoun on a Sabbath morning in
June when the bees are in the roses. And, indeed, I shall be well
content with that.

But there was no peace in Earlstoun that morning--no, nor for many a
morning to come. I was at the door watching for their coming, before
ever a grouse cock stirred among the short brown heather on the side of
Ardoch Hill. I told my mother over and over that without doubt Sandy was
bringing father home.

"Gay Garland was aye a reesty beast!" I said. "Doubtless he started when
my faither had his foot in the stirrup, and has come hame by himsel'!"

But I said nothing about the finger in the holster.

"Anither beast micht," said my mother, looking wistfully from the little
window on the stair, from which she did not stir, "but never Gay
Garland!"

And right well I knew she spake the truth. Gay Garland had carried my
father over long to reest with him at the hinderend.

"Can ye no see them?" cried my mother again, from the room where
ordinarily she sat.

Even Jean Hamilton, who had been but three years a wife, was not as
restless that fair morning of midsummer as my mother, for she had her
babe at her breast. In which she was the happier, because when he cried,
at least she had something to think about.

Three weeks before, in the midst of the sunny days of that noble June,
my father, William Gordon of Airds and Earlstoun, and my elder brother
Alexander had ridden away to fight against King Charles. It took a long
arm in those days to strive with the Stuarts. And as I saw them ride
over the brae with thirty Glenkens blue bonnets at their tail, I knew
that I was looking upon the beginning of the ruin of our house. Yet I
went and hid my face and raged, because I was not permitted to ride
along with them, nor to carry the Banner of Blue which my mother the
Lady of Earlstoun, and Jean Hamilton, Sandy's wife, had broidered for
them--with words that stirred the heart lettered fair upon it in threads
of gold, and an Andrew's cross of white laid on the bonny blue of its
folds.

My mother would have added an open Bible on the division beneath, but my
father forbade.

"A sword, gin ye like, but no Bible!" he said.

So they rode away, and I, that was called William Gordon for my father,
clenched hands and wept because that I was not counted worthy to ride
with them. But I was never strong, ever si