“You took me by surprise, Jock, and startled me, for I knew not that any man was near. I thought that you of all men were at Dudhope, where I left you, to protect Lady Dundee and the young lord. Is aught wrong,” cried Dundee anxiously, “my wife and child, are they both well? Speak quickly.” For even then Dundee saw that Grimond was hesitating, and looked like a man who had to speak carefully. “Do not 229 tell me that MacKay has ordered the castle to be seized, and that the dragoons have insulted my family; this were an outrage on the laws of war. If they have done this thing I will avenge it before many days pass. Is that the news ye bring?” And Dundee gripped his servant’s shoulder and shook him with such violence that Grimond, a strongly built fellow, was almost thrown from his feet.
“Be quiet, Maister John, for I canna help callin’ ye that, and dinna work yoursel’ into a frenzy, for this is no like your ain sel’. Na, na, Dudhope is safe, and no a single dragoon, leastways a soldier, has been near it since ye left; whatever other mischief he may do, Colonel Livingstone, him that commands the cavalry ye ken, at Dundee, will no see ony harm come to my Lady Dundee. Have no fear on that concern, my lord.”
“You havena come for nought, Grimond, and I’m not expecting that ye have much good to tell. Good tidings do not come my way in these days. Is the lad well?” said Dundee anxiously, “for in him is all my hope.”
“It’s a gude hope then, my lord, for the bairn is juist bye-ordinary. I could see him growing every day, and never a complaint from his mouth except when he wants his 230 food. God be thankit there’s nothing wrong wi’ him, and it does my heart good to see that he is a rael Graham, a branch o’ the old tree; long may it stand in Scotland, and wide may its branches spread. If it be the will of Providence I would like to live till my auld een saw Lord Graham of Claverhouse, for that I’m supposing is his title, riding on the right hand of the Viscount of Dundee. And I would be a’ the better pleased if it was over the necks of the Whigs. My lord, ye will never be ashamed of your son.”
“Ye have said nothing of Lady Dundee’s health, surely she isna ill or anything befallen her. It was hard, Jock, for a man to leave his wife but a few weeks after his son was born. Yet she recovered quickly as becometh a strong and healthy woman, and when I left her she was in good heart and was content that I should go. There is nothing wrong with Lady Dundee, Jock?”
“Ye may set yir mind at rest aboot her ladyship, Maister John. She’s stronger than I’ve ever seen her, and I can say no more than that, nor have I ever marked her more active, baith by nicht and day, and in spite o’ her lord being so far awa and in sic peril, ye would never think she had an anxious thought. It’s amazin’ an’ ... very encouragin’ 231 to see her ladyship sae content an’ ... occupied. Ye need have nae concern aboot her bodily condeetion, an’ of course that’s a great matter.”
Dundee was so relieved to hear that his wife and child were well, and that Dudhope was safe, that he did not for the moment catch with the dubious tone of Grimond’s references to Lady Dundee, and indeed it struck no unaccustomed note. Grimond had all the virtues of a family retainer––utter forgetfulness of self, and absolute devotion to his master’s house, as well as a passionate, doglike affection for Dundee. But he had the defects of his qualities. It seems the inevitable disability of this faithfulness, that this kind of servant is jealous of any newcomer into the family, suspicious of the stranger’s ways, over-sensitive to the family interests, and ready at any moment to fight for the family’s cause. Grimond had done his best to prevent his master’s marriage with Jean Cochrane, and had never concealed his conviction that it was an act of madness; he had never been more than decently civil to his mistress, and there never had been any love lost between them. If she had been a smaller woman, Jean would have had him dismissed from her husband’s side, but being what she was herself, 232 proud and thoroughgoing, she respected him for his very prejudices, and his dislike of her she counted unto him for righteousness. Jean had made no effort to conciliate Grimond, for he was not the kind of watchdog to be won from his allegiance by a tempting morsel. She laughed with her husband over his watchfulness, and often said, “Ye may trust me anywhere, John, if ye leave Grimond in charge. If I wanted to do wrong I should not be able.” “Ye would be wise, Jean,” Graham would reply, “to keep your eye on Grimond if ye are minded to play a prank, for his bite is as quick as his bark.” They laughed together over this jest, for they trusted each other utterly, as they had good reason to do, but the day was at hand when that laughter was to be bitter in the mouth.
“Ye are like a cross-grained tyke which snarls at its master’s best friend through faithfulness to him. Ye never liked your mistress from the beginning, because ye thought she would not be loyal, but, man, ye know better now,” said Dundee kindly, “and it’s time ye were giving her a share o’ the love ye’ve always given me.”
“Never!” cried Grimond hotly. “And I canna bear that ye should treat this maitter as a jest. Many a faithful dog has been scolded––aye, 233 and maybe struck, by his maister when he had quicker ears than the foolish man, and was giving warning of danger.
“Ye think me, my lord, a silly and cankered auld haveril, and that my head is full of prejudices and fancies. Would to God that I were wrong. If I were, I would go down on my knees to her ladyship and ask her pardon and serve her like a dog all the days of my life; but, waes me, I’m ower richt. When my lady is loyal to you I’ll be loyal to her, but no an hour sooner, say ye as ye like, laugh ye as ye will. But my lady is false, and ye are deceived in your own home.”