s who had indeed
power even with the most powerful; they threatened the great men of
the earth with the word of their mouth, the sentence of their book, the
blaze of their torch, the sound of their sacring bell. The mighty bent
to their will, and unloosed at the word of the priests those whom they
had bound in their wrath, and set at liberty, unharmed, him whom they
had sentenced to death, and for whose blood they had thirsted. These
were a powerful race, and might well ask the poor to kneel, since their
power could humble the proud. But you!--against whom are ye strong,
but against women who have been guilty of folly, and men who never wore
sword? The priests of old were like the winter torrent which fills
this hollow valley, and rolls these massive rocks against each other
as easily as the boy plays with the ball which he casts before him. But
you!--you do but resemble the summer-stricken stream, which is turned
aside by the rushes, and stemmed by a bush of sedges. Woe worth you, for
there is no help in you!"

The clergyman was at no loss to conceive that Elspat had lost the Roman
Catholic faith without gaining any other, and that she still retained
a vague and confused idea of the composition with the priesthood, by
confession, alms, and penance, and of their extensive power, which,
according to her notion, was adequate, if duly propitiated, even to
effecting her son's safety. Compassionating her situation, and allowing
for her errors and ignorance, he answered her with mildness.

"Alas, unhappy woman! Would to God I could convince thee as easily
where thou oughtest to seek, and art sure to find, consolation, as I
can assure you with a single word, that were Rome and all her priesthood
once more in the plenitude of their power, they could not, for largesse
or penance, afford to thy misery an atom of aid or comfort--Elspat
MacTavish, I grieve to tell you the news."

"I know them without thy speech," said the unhappy woman. "My son is
doomed to die."

"Elspat," resumed the clergyman, "he WAS doomed, and the sentence has
been executed."

The hapless mother threw her eyes up to heaven, and uttered a shriek so
unlike the voice of a human being, that the eagle which soared in middle
air answered it as she would have done the call of her mate.

"It is impossible!" she exclaimed--"it is impossible! Men do not condemn
and kill on the same day! Thou art deceiving me. The people call thee
holy--hast thou the heart to tel