nd?"

Lovel pointed to the door of the chancel, which, highly ornamented,
occupied the west end of the building, surmounted by the carved window,
which let in a flood of moonlight over it.

"They can be nane o' our folk," said Edie in the same low and cautious
tone; "there's but twa o' them kens o' the place, and they're mony a
mile off, if they are still bound on their weary pilgrimage. I'll never
think it's the officers here at this time o' night. I am nae believer in
auld wives' stories about ghaists, though this is gey like a place for
them--But mortal, or of the other world, here they come!--twa men and a
light."

And in very truth, while the mendicant spoke, two human figures darkened
with their shadows the entrance of the chancel--which had before opened
to the moon-lit meadow beyond, and the small lantern which one of them
displayed, glimmered pale in the clear and strong beams of the moon, as
the evening star does among the lights of the departing day. The first
and most obvious idea was, that, despite the asseverations of Edie
Ochiltree, the persons who approached the ruins at an hour so uncommon
must be the officers of justice in quest of Lovel. But no part of their
conduct confirmed the suspicion. A touch and a whisper from the old man
warned Lovel that his best course was to remain quiet, and watch their
motions from their present place of concealment. Should anything appear
to render retreat necessary, they had behind them the private stair-case
and cavern, by means of which they could escape into the wood long
before any danger of close pursuit. They kept themselves, therefore, as
still as possible, and observed with eager and anxious curiosity every
accent and motion of these nocturnal wanderers.

After conversing together some time in whispers, the two figures
advanced into the middle of the chancel; and a voice, which Lovel at
once recognised, from its tone and dialect, to be that of Dousterswivel,
pronounced in a louder but still a smothered tone, "Indeed, mine goot
sir, dere cannot be one finer hour nor season for dis great purpose.
You shall see, mine goot sir, dat it is all one bibble-babble dat Mr.
Oldenbuck says, and dat he knows no more of what he speaks than one
little child. Mine soul! he expects to get as rich as one Jew for his
poor dirty one hundred pounds, which I care no more about, by mine
honest wort, than I care for an hundred stivers. But to you, my most
munificent and reverend pa