hen the dark young man sat, whose noble head and
carriage I had remarked.

"Mr. Cameron," he said gravely, and with respect, "this is the son of a
brave man and princely contender with his Master--William Gordon of
Earlstoun, lately gone from us."

And for the first time I gave my hand to Richard Cameron, whom men
called the Lion of the Covenant--a great hill-preacher, who, strangely
enough, like some others of the prominent disaffected to the Government,
had been bred of the party of Prelacy.

As I looked upon him I saw that he was girt with a sword, and that he
had a habit of gripping the hilt when he spoke, as though at the pinch
he had yet another argument which all might understand. And being a
soldier's son I own that I liked him the better for it. Then I
remembered what (it was reported) he had said on the Holms of Kirkmahoe
when he preached there.

"I am no reed to be shaken with the wind, as Charles Stuart shall one
day know."

And it was here that I got my first waft of the new tongue which these
hill-folk spake among themselves. I heard of "singular Christians," and
concerning the evils of paying the "cess" or King's tax--things of which
I had never heard in my father's house, the necessity not having arisen
before Bothwell to discuss these questions.

When all the men were gathered into the wide house-place, some sitting,
some standing, the grave-faced woman knocked with her knuckles gently on
a door which opened into an inner room. Instantly Maisie Lennox and
other two maids came out bearing refreshments, which they handed round
to all that were in the house. The carriage of one of these three
surprised me much, and I observed that my cousin Wat did not take his
eyes from her.

"Who may these maids be?" he whispered in my ear.

"Nay, but I ken not them all," I answered. "Bide, and we shall hear."
For, indeed, I knew only one of them, but her very well.

And when they came to us in our turn, Maisie Lennox nodded to me as to a
friend of familiar discourse, to whom nothing needs to be explained. And
she that was the tallest of the maids handed Wat the well-curled oaten
cake on a trencher. Then he rose and bowed courteously to her, whereat
there was first a silence and then a wonder among the men in the house,
for the manner of the reverence was strange to the stiff backs of the
hill-folk. But Anthony Lennox stilled them, telling of the introduction
he had gotten concerning Walter, and that both our