“Mr. Caryl—do you think the Highlands will take the oath?”
“I hope so—most fervently,” he answered. “Indeed, I think so—”
“All of them?” she asked, and her voice faltered a little.
Jerome Caryl considered.
“Some might hate the Campbells more than they feared the government,” he said, “but it would, Miss Delia, hardly matter—they would pay the price—they could not involve the others.”
“Pay the price,” she repeated. “What would that be?—what would the government do to those who did not take the oaths?”
She turned full toward him with grave, intent eyes.
“’Tis not a question of the government,” answered Caryl. “But of Breadalbane and the Master of Stair—they are waiting very eagerly, Miss Delia, for the first of January to pass, and they are preparing a great vengeance against those who shall then be outside the law.”
“They would be pitiless, you think?” she questioned breathlessly.
“Yes,” said Jerome Caryl.