through the extreme
resentment with which she regarded all intrusion on her solitude, or by
the timidity of those who had been pitched upon to be inmates with the
terrible Woman of the Tree. At length, when Elspat became totally unable
(in appearance at least) to turn herself on the wretched settle which
served her for a couch, the humanity of Mr. Tyrie's successor sent two
women to attend upon the last moments of the solitary, which could not,
it was judged, be far distant, and to avert the possibility that she
might perish for want of assistance or food, before she sunk under the
effects of extreme age or mortal malady.

It was on a November evening, that the two women appointed for this
melancholy purpose arrived at the miserable cottage which we have
already described. Its wretched inmate lay stretched upon the bed, and
seemed almost already a lifeless corpse, save for the wandering of the
fierce dark eyes, which rolled in their sockets in a manner terrible to
look upon, and seemed to watch with surprise and indignation the motions
of the strangers, as persons whose presence was alike unexpected and
unwelcome. They were frightened at her looks; but, assured in each
other's company, they kindled a fire, lighted a candle, prepared food,
and made other arrangements for the discharge of the duty assigned them.

The assistants agreed they should watch the bedside of the sick person
by turns; but, about midnight, overcome by fatigue, (for they had walked
far that morning), both of them fell fast asleep. When they awoke, which
was not till after the interval of some hours, the hut was empty, and
the patient gone. They rose in terror, and went to the door of the
cottage, which was latched as it had been at night. They looked out into
the darkness, and called upon their charge by her name. The night-raven
screamed from the old oak-tree, the fox howled on the hill, the hoarse
waterfall replied with its echoes; but there was no human answer. The
terrified women did not dare to make further search till morning should
appear; for the sudden disappearance of a creature so frail as Elspat,
together with the wild tenor of her history, intimidated them from
stirring from the hut. They remained, therefore, in dreadful terror,
sometimes thinking they heard her voice without, and at other times,
that sounds of a different description were mingled with the mournful
sigh of the night-breeze, or the dashing of the cascade. Sometimes,
too