''
``Poor child!''---replied Elspat, in a tone of pity
mingled with contempt, ``and you trust MacPhadraick?''
``I might mother''---said Hamish, the dark red
colour of his race crossing his forehead and cheeks,
``for MacPhadraick knows the blood which flows
in my veins, and is aware, that should he break
trust with you, he might count the days which could
bring Hamish back to Breadalbane, and number
those of his life within three suns more. I would
kill him at his own hearth, did he break his word
with me---I would, by the great Being who made
us both!''
The look and attitude of the young soldier for
a moment overawed Elspat; she was unused to see
him express a deep and bitter mood, which reminded
her so strongly of his father, but she resumed
her remonstrances in the same taunting manner in
which she had commenced them.
``Poor boy!'' she said; ``and you think that at
the distance of half the world your threats will be
heard or thought of! But, go---go---place your neck
under him of Hanover's yoke, against whom every
true Gael fought to the death---Go, disown the
royal Stewart, for whom your father, and his fathers,
and your mother's fathers, have crimsoned
many a field with their blood.
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