he can'le on the table
at the stair-foot. He couldnae pray, he couldnae think, he was dreepin'
wi' caul' swat, an' naething could he hear but the dunt-dunt-duntin' o'
his ain heart. He micht maybe have stood there an hour, or maybe twa, he
minded sae little; when a' o' a sudden he heard a laigh, uncanny steer
upstairs; a foot gaed to an' fro in the cham'er whair the corp was
hingin'; syne the door was opened, though he minded weel that he had
lockit it; an' syne there was a step upon the landin', an' it seemed to
him as if the corp was lookin' ower the tail and doun upon him whaur he
stood.

He took up the can'le again (for he couldnae want the licht), and, as
saftly as ever he could, gaed straucht out o' the manse an' to the far
end o' the causeway. It was aye pit-mirk; the flame o' the can'le, when
he set it on the grund, brunt steedy and clear as in a room; naething
moved, but the Dule Water seepin' and sabbin' doon the glen, an' yon
unhaly footstep that cam' plodding' doun the stairs inside the manse.
He kenned the foot ower-weel, for it was Janet's; and 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 thegether, a long sigh
cam' ower the hills, the flame o' the can'le was blawn aboot; an' there
stood the corp of 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 of man should be thirled into his
perishable body; but the minister saw that, an' his heart didnae break.

She didnae stand there lang; she began to move again, an' cam' slowly
toward 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 skrieghed like folk' an' Mr. Soulis kenned that, live
or die, this was the end o' 't.

"Witch, beldam, devil!" he cried