Her words were therefore poured into
regardless ears, and she exhausted herself in vain
in the attempt to paint the regions of her mother's
kinsmen in such terms as might tempt Hamish to
accompany her thither. She spoke for hours, but
she spoke in vain. She could extort no answer,
save groans and sighs, and ejaculations, expressing
the extremity of despair.
At length, starting on her feet, and changing
the monotonous tone in which she had chanted, as
it were, the praises of the province of refuge, into
the short, stern language of eager passion---``I am
a fool,'' she said, ``to spend my words upon an
idle, poor-spirited, unintelligent boy, who crouches
like a hound to the lash. Wait here, and receive
your taskmasters, and abide your chastisement at
their hands; but do not think your mother's eyes
will behold it. I could not see it and live. My
eyes have looked often upon death, but never upon
dishonour. Farewell, Hamish!---We never meet
again.''
She dashed from the hut like a lapwing, and
perhaps for the moment actually entertained the
purpose which she expressed, of parting with her
son for ever. A fearful sight she would have
been that evening to any who might have met her
wandering through the wilderness like a restless
spirit, and speaking to herself in language which
will endure no translation.
Pages:
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287