us, but it was a fearsome face. Whiles she sang
louder, but there was nae man born o' woman that could tell the words o'
her sang; an' whiles she lookit side-lang doun, but there was naething
there for her to look at. There gaed a scunner through the flesh upon
his banes; an' that was Heeven's advertisement. But Mr. Soulis just
blamed himsel', he said, to think sae ill o' a puir, auld afflicted wife
that hadna a freend forbye himsel'; an' he put up a bit prayer for him
an' her, an' drank a little caller water--for his heart rose again' the
meat--an' gaed up to his naked bed in the gloamin'.

That was a nicht that has never been forgotten in Ba'weary, the nicht o'
the seeventeenth o' August, seeventeen hun'er' an' twal'. It had been
het afore, as I hae said, but that nicht it was better than ever. The
sun gaed doun amang unco-lookin' clouds; it fell as mirk as the pit; no'
a star, no' a breath o' wund; ye couldna see your han' afore your face,
an' even the auld folk cuist the covers frae their beds an' lay pechin'
for their breath. Wi' a' that he had upon his mind, it was geyan
unlikely Mr. Soulis wad get muckle sleep. He lay an' he tummled; the
gude, caller bed that he got into brunt his very banes; whiles he slept,
an' whiles he waukened; whiles he heard the time o' nicht, an' whiles a
tyke yowlin' up the muir, as if somebody was deid; whiles he thocht he
heard bogles claverin' in his lug, an' whiles he saw spunkies in the
room. He behoved, he judged, to be sick; an' sick he was--little he
jaloosed the sickness.

At the hinder end he got a clearness in his mind, sat up in his sark on
the bed-side, an' fell thinkin' ance mair o' the black man an' Janet. He
couldna weel tell how--maybe it was the cauld to his feet--but it cam'
in upon him wi' a spate that there was some connection between thir twa,
an' that either or baith o' them were bogles. An' just at that moment,
in Janet's room, which was neist to his, there cam' a stramp o' feet as
if men were wars'lin', an' then a loud bang; an' then a wund gaed
reishling round the fower quarters o' the house; an' then a' was aince
mair as seelent as the grave.

Mr. Soulis was feared for neither man nor deevil. He got his tinder-box,
an' lit a can'le, an' made three steps o't ower to Janet's door. It was
on the hasp, an' he pushed it open, an' keekit bauldly in. It was a big
room, as big as the minister's ain, an' plenished wi' grand, auld, solid
gear, for he had naething else