His mother was scarcely
sure that she actually discerned his form on the bed, scarce
certain that her ear caught the sound of his breathing. With a
throbbing heart, Elspat went to the fireplace in the centre of
the hut, where slumbered, covered with a piece of turf, the
glimmering embers of the fire, never extinguished on a Scottish
hearth until the indwellers leave the mansion for ever.
"Feeble greishogh," [Greishogh, a glowing ember.] she said, as
she lighted, by the help of a match, a splinter of bog pine which
was to serve the place of a candle--"weak greishogh, soon shalt
thou be put out for ever, and may Heaven grant that the life of
Elspat MacTavish have no longer duration than thine!"
While she spoke she raised the blazing light towards the bed, on
which still lay the prostrate limbs of her son, in a posture that
left it doubtful whether he slept or swooned. As she advanced
towards him, the light flashed upon his eyes--he started up in an
instant, made a stride forward with his naked dirk in his hand,
like a man armed to meet a mortal enemy, and exclaimed, "Stand
off!--on thy life, stand off!"
"It is the word and the action of my husband," answered Elspat;
"and I know by his speech and his step the son of MacTavish
Mhor.
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