“And so you think Anne Ross is looking ill, Elspat,” said Mrs. Catherine; “it’s my hope you and your wise daughter have no design upon the poor bairn. Mind, I will have no doctoring of my Anne. I believe Euphan Morison is crazy!—my best cow in the deadthraw with her abominations! I will not have it, Elspat, though she is your daughter. My household shall be poisoned with physic at the will of no woman.”
“Euphan walks according to her lights, Madam,” responded Mrs. Elspat; “but if ye ask my opinion, I would say that Miss Ross needit spiritual physic, and no temporal: the bitter herbs o’ repentance and grace, and no camomile and wormwood—though I hold with Euphan doubtless that the last are of service in their place.”
“Hold with Euphan—a great authority truly!” said Mrs. Catherine. “Spiritual physic, bitter herbs—ye are all fools together, the whole household and lineage of you! Not that I am saying we are, any of us, above grace and repentance—forbid that such a profane thing should come from my lips, but—Elspat Henderson what are you groaning at?—the bairn Anne is more simple and devout than the whole tribe of you.”
Mrs. Elspat Henderson looked meek and injured.
“It would ill become me, Madam, to maintain that anything is, when it’s your pleasure to say it is not. Nevertheless, it’s my privilege to lift up my testimony to the iniquity of human-kind, all and haill. We are all perverse, yea we have gone out of the way—we have together become unprofitable; there is none—”
“Woman, woman, hold your peace,” said Mrs. Catherine, “as if I was like to hold inherent ill of light import—me that have seen its outbreaking, time after time, in lives that the world called pure, and no less in my own. Carry your testimony to your Maker’s presence, Elspat Henderson, and mind that ye stand sole there, and cannot glide out of your ain private evil in the cover of a ‘we.’ And what is your special ill-will at Anne Ross? what is her misdeed the now?”
Mrs. Elspat gave a prolonged sigh.
“That ye should have so puir an opinion of me, as to throw such a blame on your auld and faithful servant. Me, a special ill-will at the young lady! it’s my hope I will never be so far left to mysel, frail vessel as I am.”
Mrs. Catherine groaned.
“Is it your purpose to drive me out of all patience, Elspat Henderson? Truly, if the three of you are no enough to banish peace from any mortal, I am no judge. What cause of censure have you, then, if I am no to say ill-will against my Anne? What has she done?”