e
parish. Concerning which her father full well knew, but could neither
alter nor mend, even as Duke Rothes himself could not change his lady's
liking. Yet for Kate McGhie's sake the hunt waxed easier in all the
headend of Balmaghie. And during this lown blink, old Anton came home
from the hills to take the comforts of the bien and comfortable house of
the Duchrae, for it promised to be a bitter and unkindly season. So the
Earlstoun looked a little bare without Maisie Lennox, and I was glad
that I was to be but a short time in it.

For another thing, the soldiers had been before me, and by order of the
Council had turned the whole gear and plenishing over to find my brother
Alexander--which indeed seeing what he had done at Bothwell, we can
hardly wonder at. Even the intervention of our well-affected cousin of
Lochinvar could not prevent this. The horses were driven away, the
cattle lifted to be provender for the King's forces in the parish of
Carsphairn and elsewhere. And it would go hard with us--if indeed we
should even be permitted to keep the place that had been ours for
generations.

My mother was strongly advised that, as I had not been mixed with the
outbreaks, it was just scant possible that I might make something of an
appeal to the Privy Council for the continuing of the properties, and
the substituting of a fine. I was therefore to ride to Edinburgh with
what attendance I could muster, and with Wat Gordon of Lochinvar to lead
me as a bairn by the hand.

But it was with a sad heart and without much pleasure, save in having my
father's silver mounted pistols (for I counted myself no mean marksman),
that John Meiklewood, Hughie and I rode off from the arched door of the
Earlstoun. My mother stood on the step and waved me off with no tear in
her eye; and even poor Jean Hamilton, from the window whence she could
see the great oak where my brother, her husband, was in hiding, caused a
kerchief to show white against the grey wall of Earlstoun. I think the
poor feckless bit thing had a sort of kindness for me. But when there
was hardly the thickness of an eggshell between her man and death, it
was perhaps small wonder that she cherished some jealousy of me, riding
whither I listed over the wide, pleasant moors where the bumble bees
droned and the stooping wild birds cried all the livelong day.

At St. John's Clachan of Dalry we were to meet with Wildcat Wat, who was
waiting to ride forth with us to Edinburgh upo