' ploddin' doun the stairs inside the manse. He
kenned the foot ower weel, for it was Janet's; an' at ilka step that
cam' a wee thing nearer, the cauld got deeper in his vitals. He
commended his soul to Him that made an' keepit him; "and, O Lord," said
he, "give me strength this night to war against the powers of evil."

By this time the foot was comin' through the passage for the door; he
could hear a hand skirt alang the wa', as if the fearsome thing was
feelin' for its way. The saughs tossed an' maned thegither, a lang sigh
cam' ower the hills, the flame o' the can'le was blawn aboot; an' there
stood the corp o' Thrawn Janet, wi' her grogram goun an' her black
mutch, wi' the heid aye upon the shouther, an' the girn still upon the
face o't--leevin', ye wad hae said--deid, as Mr. Soulis weel
kenned--upon the threshold o' the manse.

It's a strange thing that the saul o' man should be that thirled into
his perishable body; but the minister saw that, an' his heart didna
break.

She didna stand there lang; she began to move again an' cam' slowly
towards Mr. Soulis whaur he stood under the saughs. A' the life o' his
body, a' the strength o' his speerit, were glowerin' frae his een. It
seemed she was gaun to speak, but wanted words, an' made a sign wi' the
left hand. There cam' a clap o' wund, like a cat's fuff; oot gaed the
can'le, the saughs skreighed like folk; and Mr. Soulis kenned that, live
or die, this was the end o't.

"Witch, beldame, devil!" he cried, "I charge you, by the power of God,
begone--if you be dead, to the grave--if you be damned, to hell."

An' at that moment the Lord's ain hand out o' the Heevens struck the
Horror whaur it stood; the auld, deid, desecrated corp o' the
witch-wife, sae lang keepit frae the grave an' hirsled round by de'ils,
lowed up like a brunstane spunk an' fell in ashes to the grund; the
thunder followed, peal on dirlin' peal, the rairin' rain upon the back
o' that; an' Mr. Soulis lowped through the garden hedge, an' ran, wi'
skelloch upon skelloch, for the clachan.

That same mornin', John Christie saw the Black Man pass the Muckle Cairn
as it was chappin' six; before eicht, he gaed by the change-house at
Knockdow; an' no' lang after, Sandy M'Lellan saw him gaun linkin' doun
the braes frae Kilmackerlie. There's little doubt but it was him that
dwalled sae lang in Janet's body; but he was awa' at last; an' sinsyne
the de'il has never fashed us in Ba'weary.

But it was a sair