It was the Countess who spoke first: “They’re vera simple, these savages; I told him I was a Fraser.” “It was wise,” remarked her cousin dryly. “If he had kenned ye were Breadalbane’s wife, weel, ye wouldna’ be here noo.” “Indeed, they do hate my lord,” she answered. “I had to listen to some miscalling of Jock Campbell—as they name him.” Her thin lips curled into a bitter smile. “I tried to sound him about this conference—ye ken—this matter my lord has on hand for quieting the Hielands—‘we’ll never take the oaths’—he says—‘Jock Campbell’s got the money in his coffers for himsel’—we may come,’ he says, ‘but we’ll enter into no treaty with a Campbell.’” “Puir fules,” said one of the company. “They think we _want_ them to be taking the oaths to King William?” “They’re no’ so simple as that,” answered another. “But they consider the new government’ll need something for its money—an’ if a Campbell can’t quiet the Hielands—some one else can try—it’s plain they’re bent on ruining the negotiations out of spite to Breadalbane.” The Countess Peggy set her wine-glass down fiercely: “Weel,” she said, “’tis the end of October noo, an’ they must take the oaths by January—they’ve been dallying for two years—but I’m no’ thinking either we or the government will be taking any more.” “Lochiel and Glengarry show signs of yielding,” said Colin Campbell, “though they demand, ye ken, too much of the money—and Coll a’ the Cows, the ould murdering thief, he’ll come in to save his ugly neck—but Macdonald of Glencoe will na’.” “I dinna think we shall be troubled as how to treat them,” answered another. “They’ll be rebels—it’ll be a fine chance to be clearing the country of a den of thieves.” The Countess Peggy’s eyes flashed at the speaker a meaning look. “My lord’ll be equal to them,” she smiled. In their hearts they all assented; they knew the Earl of Breadalbane, ruthless and cunning even for a Campbell; of a fine ability and a power that made him next to his cousin Argyll, the master of the Highlands; and these kinsmen of his, a body-guard of Campbells kept always about him, regarded him with a respect that only great cunning, great falseness and great power could have engendered in their shrewd souls. Dinner over, they rose; they had come from Edinburgh that day and were mostly weary. The Countess Peggy, whose masterful spirit they obeyed, dismissed them. She was going to wait up for the Earl, she said, and needed no company. It was hardly late yet; but the Campbells were never of a roistering spirit; most of them went to bed; the Countess waited alone in the dining-hall. It was full of the mellow light of candles and the bright glow of the fire; the arms and trophies of the chase on the tapestried walls glittered in points of light.