Book 2 Chapter 4 Thy People Shall Be My People, Thy God My God

Lady Cochrane, as usual, did not appear, and neither did her daughter, and after a futile conversation with Dundonald, who seemed feebler than ever, Claverhouse left, and had it not been for a sudden whim, as he was going through the courtyard, he had never seen Jean Cochrane again, and many things would not have happened. But there was a way of reaching the town through the pleasaunce, and under the attraction of past hours spent among its trees Claverhouse turned aside, and walking down one of its grass walks, and thinking of an evening in that place with Jean, he came suddenly upon her on her favorite seat beneath a spreading beech.

"I crave your pardon, my Lady Jean," said Claverhouse, recovering himself after an instant's discomposure, "for this intrusion upon your chosen place and your meditation. My excuse is the peace of the garden after the wildness of the moors, but I did not hope to find so good company. My success in Paisley Castle has been greater than among the moss-hags."

"It is a brave work, Colonel Graham, to hunt unarmed peasants"--and for the first time Claverhouse caught the ironical note in Jean's speech, and knew that for some reason she was nettled with him--"and it seems to bring little glory. Though, the story did come to our ears, it sometimes brought risk, and--perhaps it was a lie of the Covenanters--once ended in the defeat of his Majesty's Horse. I seem to forget the name of the place."