Having no clue to Dorothy´s meaning, Macpherson looked upon it as a piece of the whimsical extravagance one always found in a woman, and was content that he had delivered his message, however abruptly, and rid himself of his responsibility. For himself, he had no desire to meddle with family secrets, and a young fellow like Gervase Orme was a far fitter companion to share the confidence of a girl, than a rugged and plain-spoken soldier like himself. It might be there was more than her grandfather´s death in the matter, but whatever it was, he would avoid other people´s business for the future, and keep the beaten road, where he saw plain ground for his feet. “Of my own motion,” he said, “I will not speak of this thing, and though ´tis a pity to have the bonny stones and brave pieces lying in a ditch side, I would not for their worth have carried them a day longer. I even felt like Judas with the forty pieces--the price of the blood, hanging about his neck.” Dorothy shuddered, and hid her face in her hands. “All is done now,” said Gervase, seeing her distress, “and words will not mend it. Captain Macpherson and myself must even make for the walls presently, where he will find work in plenty to his taste. The guns have been speaking loudly for an hour.” “Nay,” said Dorothy rising, “you will not go till you have seen my aunt; she hath been most anxious to thank you for the service you did me. She is seldom able to see strangers, but she is something better to-day, and bade me call her before you left.” Macpherson demurred stoutly and insisted on making his immediate departure, for he felt by no means at home as it was, and foresaw with a feeling akin to dismay, an interchange of meaningless civilities with a silly old woman of rank. But Dorothy would take no refusal; Lady Hester would not forgive her if she permitted them to leave without seeing her, and she was gone before Macpherson had finished his protest. “This is what comes of dealing with a woman, Gervase, my son,” he said, in a mournful tone, apparently still meditating retreat. “I had rather face a clump of pikes than come under the artillery of a woman´s tattle. One is bound up hand and foot, and feels his manhood oozing out through the pores of his skin, while he beats his brains for a civil speech and looks in vain for a way of escape. They can talk of nothing I have knowledge of, and I am too old for quips and gallant speeches. But she is a brave lass, and I think I wronged her, so that I must suffer for it now with patience. But for this Lady Hester, a rough old war-horse like myself hath other business in the world than to stand like a page in a lady´s chamber and hearken to her gossip. For young fellows like yourself it may answer, but were I out of this----”