But Mr
Tyrie instantly knew her as the Woman of the
Tree, the widow of MacTavish Mhor, the now
childless mother of Hamish Bean. I am not sure
whether the minister would not have endured the
visitation of the Cloght-dearg herself, rather than
the shock of Elspat's presence, considering her
crime and her misery. He drew up his horse instinctively,
and stood endeavouring to collect his
ideas, while a few paces brought her up to his
horse's head.
``Michael Tyrie,'' said she, ``the foolish women
of the Clachan* hold thee as a god---be one to me,
* _i. e_. The village, literally the stones.
and say that my son lives. Say this, and I too will
be of thy worship-I will bend my knees on the
seventh day in thy house of worship, and thy God
shall be my God.''
``Unhappy woman,'' replied the clergyman,
``man forms not pactions with his Maker as with
a creature of clay like himself. Thinkest thou to
chaffer with Him, who formed the earth, and spread
out the heavens, or that thou canst offer aught of
homage or devotion that can be worth acceptance
in his eyes? He hath asked obedience, not sacrifice;
patience under the trials with which he afflicts
us, instead of vain bribes, such as man offers to his
changeful brother of clay, that he may be moved
from his purpose.
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