She shrank into herself, submissive under the rebuke; but a hate not to be controlled flashed from her eyes.
“See them out of the castle, Ardkinglass,” commanded the Earl, “see they gang at once. I’m no wishing to be robbed under my ain eyes.”
Makian, afraid for his life, swallowed the insult and without a backward look or any salutation to the Earl, went heavily from the hall, his sons at his heels.
Ardkinglass and the Campbells followed.
Now they were alone, the Countess Peggy turned passionately to her husband.
“Ah, I thought I had died! ah, my ain love, Jock—why didna’ ye kill them?” She caught up his hand and put her cheek to it with a little caressing movement.
He frowned at her absently and put his free hand to his sword-hilt.
“Jock, Jock,” she cried, “ye had your chance—all the hate of these hundred years might hae been satisfied—ye shouldna’ hae let them gang sae easily—that—Ronald—too,” her eyes flashed as she said it, “escapes more lightly than if he’d kissed a Hieland wench against her will—is it for naething I am Campbell o’ Glenorchy’s wife? Ah, Jock, when ye drew your sword I thought ye had killed him for me—not let him live to—boast—”
Breadalbane turned impatiently.
“Ye dinna understand,” he said, “he saved my life for one thing.”