a remission of all forfeitures.
[239] Glenlyon did his best to assume an air of unconcern. He made his
appearance in the most fashionable coffeehouse at Edinburgh, and talked
loudly and self-complacently about the important service in which he
had been engaged among the mountains. Some of his soldiers, however, who
observed him closely, whispered that all this bravery was put on. He
was not the man that he had been before that night. The form of his
countenance was changed. In all places, at all hours, whether he waked
or slept, Glencoe was for ever before him. [240]

But, whatever apprehensions might disturb Breadalbane, whatever spectres
might haunt Glenlyon, the Master of Stair had neither fear nor remorse.
He was indeed mortified; but he was mortified only by the blunders of
Hamilton and by the escape of so many of the damnable breed. "Do right,
and fear nobody;" such is the language of his letters. "Can there be
a more sacred duty than to rid the country of thieving? The only thing
that I regret is that any got away." [241]

On the sixth of March, William, entirely ignorant, in all probability,
of the details of the crime which has cast a dark shade over his glory,
had set out for the Continent, leaving the Queen his viceregent in
England. [242]

He would perhaps have postponed his departure if he had been aware
that the French Government had, during some time, been making great
preparations for a descent on our island. [243] An event had taken place
which had changed the policy of the Court of Versailles. Louvois was
no more. He had been at the head of the military administration of his
country during a quarter of a century; he had borne a chief part in the
direction of two wars which had enlarged the French territory, and had
filled the world with the renown of the French arms; and he had lived
to see the beginning of a third war which tasked his great powers to the
utmost. Between him and the celebrated captains who carried his plans
into execution there was little harmony. His imperious temper and
his confidence in himself impelled him to interfere too much with the
conduct of troops in the field, even when those troops were commanded
by Conde, by Turenne or by Luxemburg. But he was the greatest Adjutant
General, the greatest Quartermaster General, the greatest Commissary
General, that Europe had seen. He may indeed be said to have made a
revolution in the art of disciplining, distributing, equipping and
pro