, strange
moanings rise from the pool, for the youth is praying the witch lady for
her love, and she is praying him to let go her hand.

While Ericson told the story the room still glimmered about Robert as
if all its light came from Mysie's face, upon which the flickering
firelight alone played. Mr. Lindsay sat a little back from the rest,
with an amused expression: legends of such sort did not come within the
scope of his antiquarian reach, though he was ready enough to believe
whatever tempted his own taste, let it be as destitute of likelihood as
the story of the dead hand. When Ericson ceased, Mysie gave a deep sigh,
and looked full of thought, though I daresay it was only feeling. Mr.
Lindsay followed with an old tale of the Sinclairs, of which he said
Ericson's reminded him, though the sole association was that the
foregoing was a Caithness story, and the Sinclairs are a Caithness
family. As soon as it was over, Mysie, who could not hide all her
impatience during its lingering progress, asked Robert to play again. He
took up his violin, and with great expression gave the air of Ericson's
ballad two or three times over, and then laid down the instrument. He
saw indeed that it was too much for Mysie, affecting her more, thus
presented after the story, than the singing of the ballad itself.
Thereupon Ericson, whose spirits had risen greatly at finding that he
could himself secure Mysie's attention, and produce the play of soul in
feature which he so much delighted to watch, offered another story;
and the distant rush of the sea, borne occasionally into the 'grateful
gloom' upon the cold sweep of a February wind, mingled with one tale
after another, with which he entranced two of his audience, while the
third listened mildly content.

The last of the tales Ericson told was as follows:--

'One evening-twilight in spring, a young English student, who had
wandered northwards as far as the outlying fragments of Scotland called
the Orkney and Shetland islands, found himself on a small island of
the latter group, caught in a storm of wind and hail, which had come on
suddenly. It was in vain to look about for any shelter; for not only did
the storm entirely obscure the landscape, but there was nothing around
him save a desert moss.

'At length, however, as he walked on for mere walking's sake, he found
himself on the verge of a cliff, and saw, over the brow of it, a few
feet below him, a ledge of rock, where he might fi