And she smiled very bitterly. A fine flush crept over Lady Dalrymple’s face: “You are hard,” she said. “Maybe,” replied Delia. “I am different of late—perhaps I am hard, I do not know.” She caught the other woman’s eyes on her and flushed, then broke desperately and swiftly into speech. “I have come to discover if the Macdonalds of Glencoe have taken the oaths to the government.” “Ah,” said Lady Dalrymple. “You have friends among them? These Macdonalds—who are they?” Delia bent her head. “I wish to know if they are safe or no from the vengeance of—the government.” Lady Dalrymple sank into her chair again, a flutter of ribbons and lace, her blue eyes held a curious look. “If they have testified allegiance, they are beyond the law,” she said. “So I have heard; I know little of it.” “’Tis, madam, what I which to discover: the Secretary for Scotland must know.” Lady Dalrymple lifted her lovely hand and dropped it again. “He knows,” she said. “Well,” cried Delia, “I want to save those people. If they, despite all warnings, have remained obdurate, there will be a horried vengeance taken, you know, belike?” “I know,” said Lady Dalrymple. “But if they have taken the oaths—and it is blown abroad enough—no one, for shame, could touch them.” “Do you think Sir John will answer you?” “I will essay it,” answered Delia. A little silence fell; an unusual look of resolution came into Lady Dalrymple’s gentle face as she gazed into the fire; Delia, standing with her hands clasped on the chair-back gazed upon her fairness with sick aversion that mounted to her brain and set her mouth into lines of cruelty. At last, with a shiver of satin, Lady Dalrymple moved and looked at the other. “The Macdonalds _have_ taken the oaths,” she said quietly, “but it will be suppressed. That is Viscount Stair’s work—and the Earl of Breadalbane’s.” “I thought so!” cried Delia fiercely. “The Viscount’s work, you say! I think Sir John has had a hand in it.” “I will not discuss my husband’s politics,” interrupted Lady Dalrymple. “I tell you this because I would prevent an injustice and a crime. It is true, and the Macdonalds are doomed, if you can save them—do so—” “If I can save them!” flashed Delia, “I tell you this shall be over all England to-morrow!” Lady Dalrymple rose and came toward her. “So you can save your friends,” she said gently. “Will you not thank me a little?” Delia stared at her. “Why should I thank you?” she demanded. “For what Sir John would not have told you,” was the answer. “This news should mean much to you.” “I do thank you, madam,” said Delia coldly, drawing back. Lady Dalrymple came nearer, leaned forward over the table. “Ah, sit down,” she said, sweetly and sadly. “I have few to talk to—” “Wherefore, madam?” demanded Delia. “Because—because it is my will, I mean, they are all employed here—”