Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-04-21
Dundee anxiously. "for IN him is all my

him growing every day. and never a COM
plant from his mouth except when he
wants his food. God be thankit there's
nothing wrong wi him, and II does my
heart good TO see that he is a rsel Graham.
a branch o the old tree; long may IL stand
in Scotland. and wide may its branches
spread. II it be the will OF Providence l
would like to live till my auld cen saw
Lord Graham of ClaveriouSc, for that I'm
surprising is his title. riding on the right
hand of the Viscount of Dundee. And
L would be a the better pleased If it was
| over the necks of the wings. My lord, ye
| will never be ashamed OF your SON
| "Ge have said nothing of Lady Dundee's
health surely she isna III or anything be-
| fallen her. 1t was hard. Jock. for a man
to leave his wife but few weeks after his
son was born. Yet she recovered quickly
| as becometh strong and healthy woman.
| and when l left her she was in good heart
and was content that l should go. There
Is nothing wrong with Lady Dundee.
| jock"
"Ye may set yir mind at rest aboot her
ladyship. Master John. She's stronger
than I've ever seen her, and | can say no
| more than that. nor have l ever marked
her more active. bath by NIGHT and day.
and in spite o her lord being So far ava
| and in sic peril. ye would never think she
| had an anxious thought. It's amaz n
an very encouragin' To see her
| ladyship sac content an occupied.
| Ye need have nae concern ABBOTT her bodily
| condeetion, an OF course that's "A great
| matter"
Dundee was so relieved to hear that
| his wife and child were well. and that
| Dudhope was safe. that he did not FOR the
| moment catch with the dubious tone of
Grimond's references to Lady Dundee and
| indeed it struck no unaccustomed note.
| Grimond had all the virtues of family
retainer-utter forgetfulness of self, and
| absolute devotion to his masters house.
| as well a passionate. doglke affection
for Dundee. But he had the defects OF
his qualities. 1t seems the inevitable dis
ability of this faithfulness, that this kind
| of servant is jealous of any newcomer
| into the family, suspicious of the strang-
| er's ways. over-sensitive to the family In
terests, and ready at any moment to fight
for the family's cause. Grimond had done
| his best to prevent his masters marriage
with Jean Cochrane. and had never con-
cealed his conviction that it an act
of madness: he had never been more than
decently civil to his mistress and there
| never had been any love lost between
| them If she had been smaller woman.
| Jean would have had him dismissed from
her husbands side, but being what she
| was herself. proud and thoroughgong. She
respected him for his very pre1udices. and
, his dislike of her she counted unto him
| for righteousness. Jean had made no eff
fort to conciliate Grimond. for he was not
| the kind of watchdog to be won from his
allegiance by a tempting morsel. She
laughed with her husband over his watch
fulness and often said, I'VE may trust mo
| anywhere. John. if ye leave Grimond IN
| charge If wanted to do wrong ! should
not be able" "Ye would be wise. Jean,
| Graham would reply, ito keep your eye on
| Grmond if we are minded to play prank.
| for his bite Is quick as his bark" They
! laughed together over this jest. for they
| trusted each other utterly. as they had
| good reason to do. but the day was at
| hand when that laughter was to be bitter
| in the mouth.
we are like a cross grained tylle which
snarls at its masters best friend through
| faithfulness to him. Ye never liked your
mistress from the beginning. because ye
| thought she would not be loyal but. man,
no az
and rs time ye We're giving her "A share
| o. the love we've always given me
Never cried Grimond hotly. And
| Gamma bear that ye should treat this matter
as Jest. Many a faithful dog has been
| scolded-aye, and maybe struck, by his
master when he had quicker ears than tho
| foolish man. and was giving warning OF
| we think me. my lord. silly and can
| kered auld haveril, and that my head Is
| full of prejudices and fancies. Would TO
| God that | were wrong. II | We're. ] would
| go down on my knees to her ladyshlp ana
| ask her pardon and serve her like dog
| all the days Of my life: but waes me, IN
| over RIGHT. When my lady Is loyal to you
I'll be loyal to her. but no an hour sooner.
| say We as We like laugh ye as We will But
my lady is false, and We are deceived in
| your own home"
DO you know what you are saying. Gri-
mond. and to whom you are speaking? We
have carried this jest too far, and 1t is my
blame but ye may not again speak this
way of your mistress in my presence. l
know you mean nothing by II, aud II Is all
your love of me and dislike of Covenanters
that makes you jealous; but never again.
Grimond, remember. or else. old servant
| though you be. you leave me that hour 1t
| a madness with you; ye must learn to con-
| troll it," said Dundee sternly
| ITS mae madness. my lord, answered
| Grmond doggedly, and has naethin to do
| with my lady being Cochrane. Maybe
| would rather she had been a Graham or a
| Carnegie but that was nae business o
| mine Even if I didna like her it's no for
! a serving man to complain o. his mistress.
| 1 ken when to speak and when to hold my
| tongue, but there are things l Gamma see
! and forbear. My lord. it's time you were at
! Dudhope, for the sake o your honor"
''Crimond," said Dundee and his words
| were as morsels of ice. If 1t were any other
| man who spoke of my wife and dishonor in
| the same breath l would kill him where he
| stood; but We are the Oldest and faithful
! est follower of our house. For the work
| We have done and the risks ye have run L
| pardon you far as to hear any excuse
| We have to make for yourself; but make 1t
| plain and make it quick. for ye know | am
not a man to be trifed with
| Il will speak plainly my lord, though
| they be the hardest words | have ever had
| to say l ken the risk. 1t is not the first
| time l have taken my life in my hand for
| the Grahams and their good name. My
suspicious were aroused by that little be-
| som Kirsty. when | saw her ane day comm
DOT from the quarters of Col. Livingstone,
wha commands the Dragons at Dundee. L
| kent she could be doing nae good there. for
| she's as full O mischief as an egg is full o.
| meat So / wheeped up by the near road
and met her coming up to the castle. When
she saw me she hid a letter In her breast.
| and question her l like | could get
| nothing from her but impudence. But 1t
| was plain to me that communication was
| passing between some one in Dudhope and
the comman der of Williams soldiers.
Go on" said Dundee quietly.
Putting two and two together. my lord,
| | watched in the orchard below the castle
that NIGHT and the next. and on the next.
when it was dark. man muff1ed in cloak
came up the road from the town and waited
! below the apple trees, near where l was
| lying in the hollow among the grass. After
| awhile a woman in a plaid SO that ye
| couldna see her face came down from the
| direction of the castle. They drew away
| among the trees, that | could only see
| that they We're there, but couldna hear
| what they were saying. After while. col
| loguing together. they parted, and | jail
oused who the two were, but that NIGHT L
could not be certain.
Go on, said Dundee, Till you have fin
ished."
Three NIGHTS later they met again, and 1
crept a little nearer. and the moon coming
ont for a minute, | saw their faces. Ii was