“Nay—give her credit for her greatest virtue,” he replied. “She would do anything for Breadalbane. I think he is very fortunate.”
Delia bit her lip and dropped her eyes under Jerome’s calm gaze; she was nervous, excited, almost beyond bearing; she rose up impatiently.
“Mr. Caryl—you told me the Macdonalds had taken the oath,” she said with burning cheeks. “And she—this woman—told me they had not—and she should know.”
Jerome turned in his chair to look on her.
“Why—’tis not January yet,” he said gently. “There is time—I have assurance from Lochiel that all the clans will take the oaths.”
Sir Perseus put in curtly.
“And what matter for the Macdonalds if the others come in? They had their warning....”
Delia moved round the room restlessly with her head lifted, her eyes fixed absently.
“Believe me,” said Jerome softly, “we can do no more than we have.”
“No, no,” she answered hastily, “’tis only it surprised me—they leave it late.”