Marjorie Bowen

“ Delia had been alone all day, her brother and Jerome Caryl had been summoned to a meeting with Berwick, who was in hiding in Southwark; she knew they would return to meet the messenger from France, Mr. Wedderburn, who was due this evening, but the hour she could not tell.
The room was large and low with plain plaster walls and uncarpeted floor; on the high chimneypiece two huge white' china dogs grinned at each other either side a wooden clock; the fireplace was laid with rough brown Dutch tiles that bore the history of the fall of man in rude bold figures ”

“ Wedderburn was looking at her.
"Heard ye anything of the submission of the clans?" he asked.
"We heard," said Sir Perseus, "that every clan had come in save the Macdonalds of Glencoe."
"Ah!" said Delia, and she flushed and paled.
"They bear such a hatred to the Campbells, nothing will induce them to follow the others," continued her brother, "and—poor fools—there is no one to trouble to warn them—doubtless you have heard, Mr. Wedderburn, how we have preserved the Highlands to His Majesty by causing them to take the oaths?" ”

“ They both became aware of a difference in the room; Mr. Wedderburn went to the window.
"The bells have stopped," he said; he opened the casement with a reckless impatient gesture, and a cloud of snow was blown in on him. "Come here," he said in a lowered voice. "See—'tis so dark 'tis like looking over the edge of the world—and the flakes go by like souls—millions of them—and all—I think lost—"
Delia crept up beside him, trembling and silent; he leaned his stately head against the mullions and stared out on to the utter dark; the drifting snow clung to the vivid velvet of his coat ”

“ Wedderburn, the King's messenger," he said gravely, then to the other: "I am glad, sir, of your safe arrival."
"Good-even," said Sir Perseus, then glancing the stranger over: "they keep you fine in France, sir," he commented.
Mr. Wedderburn smiled disdainfully.
"My habit is not the matter under discussion," he returned. "I dress as fits my station—as one of His Majesty's friends."
Sir Perseus shrugged his shoulders; Jerome Caryl seated himself rather wearily, at the table, with a gentle smile of greeting to Delia and spoke to the King's messenger:
"The papers you had to deliver?" he said. ”

“ Jerome Caryl made no attempt to accompany him: there was a quiet dislike in his stiff bow. As the door closed, he remarked to Sir Perseus:
"Middleton is crazed, I think, to trust that man with such a mission."
"I do not like him," was the answer, "but he may be very staunch."
"He knows everything," said Jerome Caryl, frowning. "And his credentials are such that I must trust him—but I doubt his discretion, and I wish Middleton could have sent me a man of whom I knew something."
As Mr. Wedderburn was crossing the dark, outer room he felt a timid touch on his arm ”

“ She stared, dumb and scarlet, the terror in her questioning eyes was the finest compliment ever paid him: he smiled again with his curious Puritanical haughtiness as if even while he led her on, he despised himself and her.
"Would you find me a, man easy to care for?" ”

“ Wedderburn inclined his head.
"Those were my orders."
"A dangerous mission," put in Sir Perseus. "You will carry a vast responsibility with those papers."
"I have done as dangerous in the service of the King," said Mr. Wedderburn. He turned to Jerome Caryl. "Sir—what names have you to send His Majesty?"
"News from all sides is vastly satisfactory," was the answer. "His grace of Berwick is very confident, the discontent is huge in England ”

“ Germains with the signatures," was the answer. "I assure you 'tis a matter for despatch, for King Louis will not act without these names as a guarantee of a rising in England to support him should his men land."
"Lord Middleton also says that you will be the bearer of his grace of Berwick's despatches and a full account of the plot for His Majesty's perusal." ”