She proceeded in a raised
voice. ``Tell me,'' she said, ``for I have a right to
know, for how many days the will of those you have
made your masters permits me to look upon you?
---In other words, how many are the days of my
life---for when you leave me, the earth has nought
besides worth living for!''
``Mother,'' replied Hamish MacTavish, ``for six
days I may remain with you, and if you will set
out with me on the fifth, I will conduct you in safety
to your new dwelling. But if you remain here,
then I will depart on the seventh by daybreak---
then, as at the last moment, I =must= set out for
Dunbarton, for if I appear not on the eighth day,
I am subject to punishment as a deserter, and am
dishonoured as a soldier and a gentleman.''
``Your father's foot,'' she answered, ``was free
as the wind on the heath---it were as vain to say
to him where goest thou, as to ask that viewless
driver of the clouds, wherefore blowest thou. Tell
me under what penalty thou must---since go thou
must, and go thou wilt---return to thy thraldom?''
``Call it not thraldom, mother, it is the service
of an honourable soldier---the only service which
is now open to the son of MacTavish Mhor.
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