word, he rolled the sleeping, and happily well-wrapped, infant on the
floor.

"The Lord preserve my puir bairn!" was the instantaneous and instinctive
exclamation of the agonized and now demented mother, springing at the
same time from her couch, and catching up her child with a look of the
most despairing alarm. A cloud of darkened feeling seemed to pass over
the face and features of the infant,[*] and a cry of helpless suffering
succeeded, at once to comfort and to madden the mother. "A murderous and
monstrous herd are ye all," said she, again resuming her position, and
pressing the affrighted, rather than injured child to her breast. "Limbs
of Satan and enemies of God, begone! He whom ye seek is not here; nor
will the God _he_ serves and _you_ defy, ever suffer him, I fervently
hope and trust, to fall into your merciless and unhallowed hands."

[note *: "In the light of heaven its face
Grew dark as they were speaking."]

At this instant a boy about twelve years of age was dragged into the
room, and questioned respecting the place of his father's retreat,
sometimes in a coaxing, and at others in a threatening manner. The boy
presented, to every inquiry, the aspect of dogged resistance and
determined silence.

"Have the bear's cub to the croft," said Clavers, "and shoot him on the
spot."

The boy was immediately removed; and the distracted mother left, happily
for herself, in a state of complete insensibility. There grew, and there
still grows, a rowan-tree in the corner of the garden or kailyard of