“Yesterday was yesterday,” answered Hamish, “and to-day is to-day. When the clans are crushed and confounded together, it is well and wise that their hatreds and their feuds should not survive their independence and their power. He that cannot execute vengeance like a man, should not harbour useless enmity like a craven. Mother, young Barcaldine is true and brave. I know that MacPhadraick counselled him that he should not let me take leave of you, lest you dissuaded me from my purpose; but he said, ‘Hamish MacTavish is the son of a brave man, and he will not break his word.’ Mother, Barcaldine leads an hundred of the bravest of the sons of the Gael in their native dress, and with their fathers’ arms--heart to heart--shoulder to shoulder. I have sworn to go with him. He has trusted me, and I will trust him.” At this reply, so firmly and resolvedly pronounced, Elspat remained like one thunderstruck, and sunk in despair. The arguments which she had considered so irresistibly conclusive, had recoiled like a wave from a rock. After a long pause, she filled her son’s quaigh, and presented it to him with an air of dejected deference and submission. “Drink,” she said, “to thy father’s roof-tree, ere you leave it for ever; and tell me--since the chains of a new King, and of a new chief, whom your fathers knew not save as mortal enemies, are fastened upon the limbs of your father’s son--tell me how many links you count upon them?” Hamish took the cup, but looked at her as if uncertain of her meaning. 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.” “Yet say what is the penalty if thou shouldst not return?” replied Elspat. “Military punishment as a deserter,” answered Hamish, writhing, however, as his mother failed not to observe, under some internal feelings, which she resolved to probe to the uttermost.