"
"I have lost all, mother," replied Hamish, "since I have broken
my word, and lost my honour. I might tell my tale, but who, oh,
who would believe me?" The unfortunate young man again clasped
his hands together, and, pressing them to his forehead, hid his
face upon the bed.
Elspat was now really alarmed, and perhaps wished the fatal
deceit had been left unattempted. She had no hope or refuge
saving in the eloquence of persuasion, of which she possessed no
small share, though her total ignorance of the world as it
actually existed rendered its energy unavailing. She urged her
son, by every tender epithet which a parent could bestow, to take
care for his own safety.
"Leave me," she said, "to baffle your pursuers. I will save your
life--I will save your honour. I will tell them that my fair-
haired Hamish fell from the Corrie Dhu (black precipice) into the
gulf, of which human eye never beheld the bottom. I will tell
them this, and I will fling your plaid on the thorns which grow
on the brink of the precipice, that they may believe my words.
They will believe, and they will return to the Dun of the double-
crest; for though the Saxon drum can call the living to die, it
cannot recall the dead to their slavish standard.
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