"My lord," he said in his hesitating voice, "I have little influence here—I have no people to consider—I am not a soldier, only a man of business who has tried to serve the cause."
They waited while Lovat watched him as a snake watches a rabbit.
"Supposing, my lord, that the clans are persuaded to rise again, what kind of campaign can you carry on? Where can you obtain your supplies, your ammunition, or money to pay our troops? Already the coast is patrolled—the Highlands surrounded and the roads to the south cut off—what kind of mercy will the isolated places receive—the very places where you hope to obtain provisions? They will so harry the country, my lord, to starve you out that the very sight of women and children coming to you in the direst starvation will make you regret this step. It is starvation, and not defeat, will give you your answer, my lord."
"There's truth in what he says," murmured a man behind Lochiel.
"Mr. Murray," said Lovat, "I doubt not you speak with sincerity, but this is a matter on which we must take our own counsel. Look to your own safety, Mr. Murray, and no gentleman here will say you acted unbecomingly."
It had become a contest between these two—Lovat forcing the pace to save his neck, and Murray, knowing what was behind it all, struggling, who can say why, to dissuade them from further bloodshed.
He moistened his lips and played his last card.
"As you will, gentlemen," he said suavely, "It is for you to decide. But as a man of business, since your lordship has discounted any finer qualities in me, might I suggest that perhaps a memorandum of this meeting, a pledge to bind us together, would give adhesion to such a proposal. It is only natural, and in desperate straits where all must live or fall together, a prudent course to take."
Lovat gripped the edge of the table with his hands. This was a blow indeed. His face changed colour. He seemed for a moment to quiver as though he were icy cold, his head commencing to shake from side to side.
"I agree to that entirely," said Lochiel.