Devil in Scotland

lockit the door ahint him; an’ step by step, doun the
stairs, as heavy as leed; and set doun the can’le on the
table at the stairfoot. He couldna pray, he couldna think,
he was dreepin’ wi’ caul’ swat, an’ naething could he
hear but the dunt-dunt-duntin’ o’ his ain heart. He
micht maybe hae stood there an hour, or maybe twa,
he minded sae little; when a’ o’ a sudden, he heard a
laigh, uncanny steer up-stairs; a foot gaed to an’ fro in
the chalmer whaur the corp was bangin’; 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 rail
and doun upon him whaur he stood.
He took up the can’le again (for he couldna want the
licht), an’ 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 candle, when he set it on the
grand, brant steedy and clear as in a room; naething
moved, but the Dule water seepin’ and sabbin’ doun
the glen, an’ yon unhaly footstep that cam’ ploddin’
doun the stairs inside the manse. He kenned the foot
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