steps, in
so much that he actually did turn back. But on reaching the Bow he was
obligated to stop, for the ward was changing; and observing that the
soldiers then posting were of the Queen's French guard, his thoughts
began to run on the rumour that was bruited of a league among the papist
princes to cut off all the Reformed with one universal sweep of the
scythe of persecution, and he felt himself moved and incited to go to
some of the Lords and leaders of the Congregation to warn them of what
he feared; but, considering that he had only a vague and unaccountable
suspicion for his thought, he wavered, and finally returned home. Thus,
though manifestly and marvellously instructed of the fruition of some
bloody business in hand that night, he was yet overruled by the wisdom
which is of this world to suppress and refuse obedience to the
promptings of the inspiration.

On reaching his chamber, he unbuckled his belt, as his custom was, and
laid down his sword and began to undress, when again the same alarm
from on high fell upon him, and the same warning spirit whispered to his
mind's ear unspeakable intimations of dreadful things. Fear came upon
him and trembling, which made all his bones to shake, and he lifted his
sword and again buckled on his belt. But again the prudence of this
world prevailed, and, heeding not the admonition to warn the Lords of
the Congregation, he threw himself on his bed, without, however,
unbuckling his sword, and in that condition fell asleep. But though his
senses were shut, his mind continued awake, and he had fearful visions
of bloody hands and glimmering daggers gleaming over him from behind his
curtains, till in terror he started up, gasping like one that had
struggled with a stronger than himself.

When he had in some degree composed his thoughts, he went to the window
and opened it, to see by the stars how far the night had passed. The
window overlooked the North Loch and the swelling bank beyond, and the
distant frith and the hills of Fife. The skies were calm and clear, and
the air was tempered with a bright frost. The stars in their courses
were reflected in the still waters of the North Loch, as if there had
been an opening through the earth showing the other concave of the
spangled firmament. But the dark outline of the swelling bank on the
northern side was like the awful corpse of some mighty thing prepared
for interment.

As my grandfather stood in contemplation at the window,