got "the dander o' her
body to bury in Christ's Kirk," she would be thankful to heaven for the
gift, and try to moderate her grief. But no "dander" was to be seen. It was
by much too evident that Marion Webster would never more be seen on earth;
and, what might naturally add to the grief of her friends, they had no
chance of seeing her again in the world to come, unless at the expense of a
_condemnation_--a dear passport to see an old friend. Such a night was
never seen in Christ's Kirk as that on which Marion Webster was carried off
by his Sathanic Majesty.

We have said quite enough to make it to be understood that Marion Webster
did in reality go off in a coach with the stranger who has occupied so much
of our attention; but we have (being of Scottish origin) prudently
abstained from giving any opinion of our own upon the question of the true
character of him of the red cravat. The two drove off together, apparently
with much affection, and, after they had got entirely beyond the reach of
any supposed followers, they became comparatively easy, and very soon
commenced a conversation--an amusement never awanting when there is a woman
within reach of a person's articulated breath.

"What is the meaning o' a' this, Geordie, man?" said Marion, looking
lovingly into the face of the stranger. "Could I no have met ye this night
at the Three Sisters--the trees in the wood o' Ballochgray--without your
coming to Christ's Kirk, and spreading the fear o' the deil frae town's-end
to town's-end? But whar are we journeying to? and what means the carriage?"

The stranger thus accosted by the familiar name by which he was known to
the young woman, smiled, and told her to hold her tongue, and resign
herself to the pleasure of being carried through the air at the rate of ten
miles an hour. The moon was now shining beautifully "owre tower and tree;"
and ever and anon the maiden glanced her blue eye on the "siller-smolt"
scenes through which she passed, and then turned to the face of her
companion, who seemed to enjoy silently the wonder expressed by her fair
face. After rolling on for some time, they came to a road or avenue of tall
beech trees, at the end of which appeared an old castle, on which the
moonbeams were glancing, and exhibiting in strange forms the turrets with
which it was fancifully decorated. The grey owl's scream was borne along on
the breeze that met them, and struck on Marion's ear in wild and fitful
sounds--inspirin