“Not for love o’ ye,” she interrupted fiercely, “but to win a smile frae me—an insult and a disgrace—if ye had killed him none had kenned he spared your life to please your wife!” The Earl flushed a little at her tone, but he was lapsing into his usual calm manner. “Woman, ye dinna ken the larger issues,” he said dryly. “If I had slain these Macdonalds how think ye it would hae sounded in Edinburgh? Sir John wouldna’ hae thanked me for it; it would hae pleased nane but the Jacobites that hae been glad for this handle against me.” She moved a step away from him. “Ah, ye hae grown too politic,” she answered. “When I wed ye, ye wouldna’ hae done sae—Campbell o’ Glenorchy would hae fought for me nor been dared sae tamely by these thieving Macdonalds!” Breadalbane looked at her calmly. “I willna’ put myself outside the law when I may be avenged inside the law,” he said. “In a while not three, but all o’ the Macdonalds shall be in my power and without scandal can I use it—dinna ye understand?” “But they will take the oaths,” she answered. “Not after this—they willna’,” said the Earl, grimly. But the Countess Peggy was not appeased; she looked with a frown at the fading marks on her wrist and rebellion against her lord rose within her. “I’m no’ convinced,” she said, half under her breath. Breadalbane gave her a cold glance. “Let a man judge o’ a man’s affairs,” he said curtly, “I’m no’ needing your advice on matters o’ policy.” He turned to leave the room, but the Countess swung round and caught his coat. “Nay, Jock,” she cried, with tears in her eyes, “dinna leave me in anger—forgive me—’tis only that I couldna’ bear to think they should live to—to laugh at ye.” “I’m no’ angry with ye, Peggy,” smiled the Earl, “and for the Macdonalds—dinna fear; they willna’ lang be troubling us.” CHAPTER VII THE POISON OF THE KISS The three Macdonalds trudged in silence over the flat moors beyond Loch Awe. Behind them lay Kilchurn Castle, black against the vapors of Ben Cruachan, the mist-soaked standard of England hanging red and gold above it. The heavy gray sky seemed to hang low enough to be touched with an uplifted arm; there was no wind; a few flakes of snow fell slowly. Makian walked a little ahead of his two sons, and reflected on the absolute failure of his attempt to wring money from Jock Campbell: it had been a bold attempt and there was little wonder that it had not succeeded. Whether they took the oaths or no, Makian was very sure that they would not get a guinea of the English money; it was a bitter wrong, he thought, that the government should have chosen for its agent a man with whom so many clans were at feud. He meant to take the oaths: the letters Ronald had delivered had frightened him as well as others; he was shrewd and wily; the tribes favorable to King William; the Frasers, the Macnaughtens and Grants had warned him that submission would be the wiser part.