. I suppose ye understand,
woman, how it will go wi' your son? (_To his clerk_) Here's a fine
mother for ye, James! Would you believe it? She kens what would
save her son--the very babe she nursed at her breast; but will
she save him? Na! na! Sir, he may look after himself! A mother, a
mother! Ha! ha!

(CAMPBELL _laughs._ MACKENZIE _titters foolishly._ CAMPBELL _pauses to
watch effect of his words._)

Aye, you would think, James, that she would remember the time
when he was but little and afraid of all the terrors that walk in
darkness, and how he looked up to her as to a tower of safety,
and would run to her with outstretched hands, hiding his face
from his fear, in her gown. The darkness! It is the dark night
and a long journey before him now.

(_He pauses again._)

You would think, James, that she would mind how she happit him
from the cold of winter and sheltered him from the summer heats,
and, when he began to find his footing, how she had an eye on a'
the beasts of the field and on the water and the fire that were
become her enemies--And to what purpose all this care?--tell me
that, my man, to what good, if she is to leave him at the last to
dangle from a tree at the end of a hempen rope--to see his flesh
given to be meat for the fowls of the air--her son, her little
son!

MARY STEWAET. My son is guilty of no crime!

CAMPBELL. Is he no'! Weel, mistress, as ye'll no' take my word
for it, maybe ye'll list to Mr. Mackenzie here. What say ye,
James?

MACKENZIE. He is guilty of aiding and abetting in the concealment
of proscribed persons; likewise with being found in the
possession of arms, contrary to statute, both very heinous
crimes.

CAMPBELL. Very well said, James! Forby, between ourselves, Mrs.
Stewart, the young man in my opeenion is guilty of another crime
(_snuffs_)--he is guilty of the heinous crime of not knowing on
which side his bread is buttered.--Come now--

MARY STEWART. Ye durst not lay a finger on the lad, ye durst not
hang him.

MACKENZIE. And why should the gentleman not hang him if it
pleesure him?

(CAMPBELL _taps snuff-box and takes pinch._)

MARY STEWART (_with intensity_). Campbell of Kilmhor, lay but one
finger on Dugald Stewart and the weight of Ben Cruachan will be
light to the weight that will be laid on your soul. I will lay
the curse of the seven rings upon your life: I will call up the
fires of Ephron, the blue and the green and the gray fires, for
the destruction of