An address was sent to the King in which justice was demanded and judgment on the Lord Stair as the author of the “massacre” of Glencoe.
A haughty spectator of his own ruin, the Earl of Stair watched these events in silence.
To have shown himself in the Parliament would have been to court instant arrest; he was asked for no defense or vindication and his pride would not permit him to offer one.
The King was in the Netherlands and no further action would be taken until his pleasure was known; but all Scotland had decided that his judgment must affect the estate and probably the life of the disgraced minister.
For his own sake William could not show clemency; mercy to Lord Stair would be complicity in his crime; the King dare not, if he would, blacken himself to save his servant.
On this blue June afternoon, Lord Stair paced his garden; a festival of flowers lying lavishing abroad to the kisses of the sun.
The narrow box-edged paths radiated round a central fountain full of gold carp; a stone figure of Hylas rose from the water-lilies and poured water from a Grecian urn, splashing into the basin.
Trees of box and yew cut into the shapes of peacocks and Chinese pagodas framed the dark background to innumerable roses, hollyhocks and bushes of sweet-brier. Leading to a back entrance to the house was a wide flight of steps ending in a terrace, the balustrade being white with jasmine.
Steadily up and down the smooth paths walked Lord Stair, his shadow now before, now behind him.
On the edge of the fountain sat Lady Stair, feeding the carp with cake.