clear
out before you, closes up behind. And at headquarters there is the Duke
Hamilton, who desires no better than to load me to the chancellor. I
have many enemies."

"But surely also many friends," said Balmaghie.

"Not many so true as thou art, Roger," said Claverhouse, stretching out
a white hand across the table, which his friend took for a moment.

"And I am plagued on the one side by the Council to make the folk keep
to the kirk, and on the other sore vexed with weary-winded preachers
like Andrew Symson over on Creeside, who this very day writes me to say
that ever since muckle Davie Dunbar of Baldoon hath broken his neck, he
gets no congregation at all. And be sure the poor wretch wishes me to
gather him one."

He threw a bit of paper across the table to Balmaghie.

"Read ye that," he said. "It is about swearing Baldoon."

The laird looked at it all over and then began to smile.

"This is indeed like Andrew Symson, doddering fool body that he is--aye
scribing verses, and sic-like verse. Heaven forfend us!"

And he began to read.

UPON BALDOON.

"He was no schismatick. He ne'er withdrew
Himself from the house of God. He with a few,
Some two or three, came constantly to pray
For such as had withdrawn themselves away.
Nor did he come by fits. Foul day or fair,
I being in the kirk, was sure to see him there.
Had he withdrawn, 'tis like, these two or three
Being thus discouraged, had deserted me:
So that my muse 'gainst Priscian avers,
He, he alone, was my parishioners!"

"Aye," said Balmaghie, "I warrant the puir hill-folk werna muckle the
better o' Baldoon's supplications."

Then Claverhouse, receiving back the paper, looked up with great
alertness.

"But I have chanced in that very country to fall on a nest of the
fanatics."

He looked cautiously about, and I had no more than time to step back
into the little pantry where Alisoun Begbie was already washing the
dishes. She put her arm about me to keep me within, and before she let
me go, she kissed me. Which I suffered without great concern--for, being
a lass from Borgue, she was not uncomely, though, like all these shore
lassies, a little forritsome.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

A CAVALIER'S WOOING.

John Graham assured himself that none of the servants were in the room,
and then he said:

"I have sure informations from one Birsay Smith, a cobbler, by which I
have my hand as good as