“Well, we do not care, Jock and I,” she said in a quiet fury. “I think there are no Macdonalds left to harry us—and we can face the world.”
She turned to the doorway and beckoned the man who stood there.
“The man is dead,” she said, flinging back her red hair. “And he has not given testimony, Glenlyon.”
“No, thank God, thank God!” sobbed Delia wildly.
Glenlyon looked from one to another.
“My lord must bear his own deeds,” he said slowly.
The Countess’s green eyes blazed.
“This deed is not his,” she cried. “But thine, Robert Campbell!”
“Do you deny me, then?” he answered heavily.
“Ay—thee and they works—never look to my lord to share the burden of the blood that ye have shed to-night!”