. The time had come,
he said, for all good friends of order to see to their safety when
enemies to their liberties and religion were taking arms. There was
danger within as well as without. The traitors must be kept close; but
true men had nothing to fear, for thousands were ready to start up in
their defence at the stamp of his foot. He then ordered the room to be
locked, and the keys to be laid on the table. The drums beat to arms:
the town-guard, and such force of militia as was still in the city, fell
in; while from garrets and cellars the Westland men came thronging into
the streets, with weapons in their hands, and in their faces fury and
fear of their terrible enemy. After a time, as the news came that Dundee
had ridden off northward and that all seemed quiet in the castle, the
tumult subsided. The doors of the Parliament House were opened, and the
members came out. Hamilton and his party were greeted with loud cheers:
threats and execrations no less loud assailed the few and downcast
Jacobites. From that memorable day the friends of William had nothing
more to fear in the capital of Scotland. For a while, indeed, some show
of opposition was still maintained, faintly stimulated by the arrival of
Queensberry from London. But he had come too late. His power was no
longer what it had been; nor were his professions of loyalty regarded by
men like Balcarres as above all suspicion. For Queensberry had been wise
with the wisdom of Hamilton and Athole. The great House of Douglas was
prudently divided against itself, and come what might it should not
fall. And Athole now, after with great show of bravery urging Gordon to
fire on the town, had grown somewhat less than lukewarm, while Mar, the
Governor of Stirling Castle, put an end for ever to any thoughts of a
fresh Convention in that city by boldly declaring for William. The hopes
and the hearts of the Jacobites had gone northward with Dundee; and in
truth there was not at this moment a brave company of either.

Dundee did not draw rein in Stirling. He galloped through the town,
across the bridge, and on by Dunblane, where he stayed the night, to his
own home at Dudhope, where his lady was then waiting her confinement.
The only man of his own quality who had ridden with him from Edinburgh
was George Livingstone, Lord Linlithgow's son, whose troop of Life
Guards had been taken from him in the general re-arrangement of
regiments that had followed the fiasco of Salisbury; an