“We’re lost, we’re lost,” said Betty, trembling till the crisp dry bracken rustled about her, and she was for instant flight. “If we’re lost, there’s a marquis will go travelling with us,” said M’Iver, covering his lordship’s heart with his pistol. Had Montrose given the slightest sign that he intended to call back his men to tread out this last flicker of life in Aora Glen he would never have died on the gibbet at the Grassmarket of Dunedin, Years after, when Grahame met his doom (with much more courtliness and dignity than I could have given him credit for), M’Iver would speak of his narrow escape at the end of the raiding. “I had his life in the crook of my finger,” he would say; “had I acted on my first thought, Clan Campbell would never have lost Inverlochy; but _bha e air an dàn_,--what will be will be,--and Grahame’s fate was not in the crook of my finger, though so I might think it Aren’t we the fools to fancy sometimes our human wills decide the course of fate, and the conclusions of circumstances? From the beginning of time, my Lord Marquis of Montrose was meant for the scaffold.” Montrose, when he heard the child’s cry, only looked to either hand to see that none of his friends heard it, and finding there was no one near him, took off his Highland bonnet, lightly, to the house where he jaloused there was a woman with the wean, and passed slowly on his way. “It’s so honest an act,” said John, pulling in his pistol, “that I would be a knave to advantage myself of the occasion.” A generous act enough. I daresay there were few in the following of James Grahame would have borne such a humane part at the end of a bloody business, and I never heard our people cry down the name of Montrose (bitter foe to me and mine) but I minded to his credit that he had a compassionate ear for a child’s cry in the ruined hut of Aora Glen. Montrose gave no hint to his staff of what he had heard, for when he joined them, he nor they turned round to look behind. Before us now, free and open, lay the way to Inneraora. We got down before the dusk fell, and were the first of its returning inhabitants to behold what a scandal of charred houses and robbed chests the Athole and Antrim caterans had left us.