came across the mind of the clergyman, and, solitary as
he was, a melancholy smile shaded his cheek, as he thought of the
inconsistency of human nature, and reflected how many brave men, whom
the yell of the pibroch would have sent headlong against fixed bayonets,
as the wild bull rushes on his enemy, might have yet feared to encounter
those visionary terrors, which he himself, a man of peace, and in
ordinary perils no way remarkable for the firmness of his nerves, was
now risking without hesitation.

As he looked around the scene of desolation, he could not but
acknowledge, in his own mind, that it was not ill chosen for the haunt
of those spirits, which are said to delight in solitude and desolation.
The glen was so steep and narrow that there was but just room for the
meridian sun to dart a few scattered rays upon the gloomy and precarious
stream which stole through its recesses, for the most part in silence,
but occasionally murmuring sullenly against the rocks and large stones
which seemed determined to bar its further progress. In winter, or in
the rainy season, this small stream was a foaming torrent of the most
formidable magnitude, and it was at such periods that it had torn open
and laid bare the broad-faced and huge fragments of rock which, at
the season of which we speak, hid its course from the eye, and seemed
disposed totally to interrupt its course. "Undoubtedly," thought the
clergyman, "this mountain rivulet, suddenly swelled by a waterspout
or thunderstorm, has often been the cause of those accidents which,
happening in the glen called by her name, have been ascribed to the
agency of the Cloght-dearg."

Just as this idea crossed his mind, he heard a female voice exclaim, in
a wild and thrilling accent, "Michael Tyrie! Michael Tyrie!" He looked
round in astonishment, and not without some fear. It seemed for an
instant, as if the evil being, whose existence he had disowned, was
about to appear for the punishment of his incredulity. This alarm did
not hold him more than an instant, nor did it prevent his replying in a
firm voice, "Who calls? and where are you?"

"One who journeys in wretchedness, between life and death," answered the
voice; and the speaker, a tall female, appeared from among the fragments
of rocks which had concealed her from view.

As she approached more closely, her mantle of bright tartan, in which
the red colour much predominated, her stature, the long stride with
which she advance