that their best course was to walk on, without giving farther disturbance to a being of such singular and preternatural exterior. To the third repeated demand of “Who are you? What do you here at this hour of night?” — a voice replied, whose shrill, uncouth, and dissonant tones made Elliot step two paces back, and startled even his companion, “Pass on your way, and ask nought at them that ask nought at you.”
“What do you do here so far from shelter? Are you benighted on your journey? Will you follow us home (‘God forbid!’ ejaculated Hobbie Elliot, involuntarily), and I will give you a lodging?”
“I would sooner lodge by mysell in the deepest of the Tarras-flow,” again whispered Hobbie.
“Pass on your way,” rejoined the figure, the harsh tones of his voice still more exalted by passion. “I want not your guidance — I want not your lodging — it is five years since my head was under a human roof, and I trust it was for the last time.”
“He is mad,” said Earnscliff.
“He has a look of auld Humphrey Ettercap, the tinkler, that perished in this very moss about five years syne,” answered his superstitious companion; “but Humphrey wasna that awfu’ big in the bouk.”
“Pass on your way,” reiterated the object of their curiosity, “the breath of your human bodies poisons the air around me — the sound of pour human voices goes through my ears like sharp bodkins.”
“Lord safe us!” whispered Hobbie, “that the dead should bear sie fearfu’ illwill to the living! — his saul maun be in a puir way, I’m jealous.”
“Come, my friend,” said Earnscliff, “you seem to suffer under some strong affliction; common humanity will not allow us to leave you here.”
“Common humanity!” exclaimed the being, with a scornful laugh that sounded like a shriek, “where got ye that catchword — that noose for woodcocks — that common disguise for man-traps — that bait which the wretched idiot who swallows, will soon find covers a hook with barbs ten times sharper than those you lay for the animals which you murder for your luxury!”
“I tell you, my friend,” again replied Earnscliff, “you are incapable of judging of your own situation — you will perish in this wilderness, and we must, in compassion, force you along with us.”
“I’ll hae neither hand nor foot in’t,” said Hobbie; “let the ghaist take his ain way, for God’s sake!”
“My blood be on my own head, if I perish here,” said the figure; and, observing Earnscliff meditating to lay hold on him, he added, “And your blood be upon yours, if you touch but the skirt of my garments, to infect me with the taint of mortality!”
The moon shone more brightly as he spoke thus, and Earnscliff observed that he held out his right hand armed with some weapon of offence, which glittered in the cold ray like the blade of a long knife, or the barrel of a pistol. It would have been madness to persevere in his attempt upon a being thus armed, and holding such desperate language, especially as it was plain he would have little aid from his companion, who had fairly left him to settle matters with the apparition as he could, and had proceeded a few paces on his way homeward. Earnscliff, however, turned and followed Hobbie, after looking back towards the supposed maniac, who, as if raised to frenzy by the interview, roamed wildly around the great stone, exhausting his voice in shrieks and imprecations, that thrilled wildly along the waste heath.
The two sportsmen moved on some time in silence, until they were out of hearing of these uncouth sounds, which was not ere they had gained a considerable distance from the pillar that gave name to the moor. Each made his private comments on the scene they had witnessed, until Hobbie Elliot suddenly exclaimed, “Weel, I’ll uphaud that yon ghaist, if it be a ghaist, has baith done and suffered muckle evil in the flesh, that gars him rampauge in that way after he is dead and gane.”
“It seems to me the very madness of misanthropy,” said Earnscliff; following his own current of thought.
“And ye didna think it was a spiritual creature, then?” asked Hobbie at his companion.
“Who, I? — No, surely.”
“Weel, I am partly of the mind mysell that it may be a live thing — and yet I dinna ken, I wadna wish to see ony thing look liker a bogle.”
“At any rate,” said Earnscliff, “I will ride over tomorrow and see what has become of the unhappy being.”
“In fair daylight?” queried the yeoman; “then, grace o’ God, I’se be wi’ ye. But here we are nearer to Heughfoot than to your house by twa mile, — hadna ye better e’en gae hame wi’ me, and we’ll send the callant on the powny to tell them that you are wi’ us, though I believe there’s naebody at hame to wait for you but the servants and the cat.”
“Have with you then, friend Hobbie,” said the young hunter; “and as I would not willingly have either the servants be anxious, or puss forfeit her supper, in my absence, I’ll be obliged to you to send the boy as you propose.”
“Aweel, that IS kind, I must say. And ye’ll gae hame to Heughfoot? They’ll be right blithe to see you, that will they.”
This affair settled, they walked briskly on a little farther, when, coming to the ridge of a pretty steep hill, Hobbie Elliot exclaimed, “Now, Earnscliff, I am aye glad when I come to this very bit — Ye see the light below, that’s in the ha’ window, where grannie, the gash auld carline, is sitting birling at her wheel — and ye see yon other light that’s gaun whiddin’ back and forrit through amang the windows? that’s my cousin, Grace Armstrong, — she’s twice as clever about the house as my sisters, and sae they say themsells, for they’re goodnatured lasses as ever trode on heather; but they confess themsells, and sae does grannie, that she has far maist action, and is the best goer about the toun, now that grannie is off the foot hersell. — My brothers, ane o’ them’s away to wait upon the chamberlain, and ane’s at Moss-phadraig, that’s our led farm — he can see after the stock just as weel as I can do.”
“You are lucky, my good friend, in having so many valuable relations.”
“Troth am I — Grace make me thankful, I’se never deny it. — But will ye tell me now, Earnscliff, you that have been at college, and the high-school of Edinburgh, and got a’ sort o’ lair where it was to be best gotten — will ye tell me — no that it’s ony concern of mine in particular, — but I heard the priest of St. John’s, and our minister, bargaining about it at the Winter fair, and troth they baith spak very weel — Now, the priest says it’s unlawful to marry ane’s cousin; but I cannot say I thought he brought out the Gospel authorities half sae weel as our minister — our minister is thought the best divine and the best preacher atween this and Edinburgh — Dinna ye think he was likely to be right?”
“Certainly marriage, by all protestant Christians, is held to be as free as God made it by the Levitical law; so, Hobbie, there can be no bar, legal or religious, betwixt you and Miss Armstrong.”
“Hout awa’ wi’ your joking, Earnscliff,” replied his companion, — ”ye are angry aneugh yoursell if ane touches you a bit, man, on the sooth side of the jest — No that I was asking the question about Grace, for ye maun ken she’s no my cousin-germain out and out, but the daughter of my uncle’s wife by her first marriage, so she’s nae kith nor kin to me — only a connexion like. But now we’re at the Sheeling-hill — I’ll fire off my gun, to let them ken I’m coming, that’s aye my way; and if I hae a deer I gie them twa shots, ane for the deer and ane for mysell.”
He fired off his piece accordingly, and the number of lights were seen to traverse the house, and even to gleam before it. Hobbie Elliot pointed out one of these to Earnscliff, which seemed to glide from the house towards some of the outhouses-”That’s Grace hersell,” said Hobbie. “She’ll no meet me at the door, I’se warrant her — but she’ll be awa’, for a’ that, to see if my hounds’ supper be ready, poor beasts.”
“Love me, love my dog,” answered Earnscliff. “Ah, Hobbie,