My hair bristled, and my knees shook.
I manned myself, however, and determined to return to my quarters. My
ghastly visitant glided before me (for I cannot say he walked), until he
reached the footbridge: there he stopped, and turned full round. I must
either wade the river, or pass him as close as I am to you. A desperate
courage, founded on the belief that my death was near, made me resolve
to make my way in despite of him. I made the sign of the cross, drew my
sword, and uttered, "In the name of God, Evil Spirit, give place!" "Vich
Ian Vohr," it said, in a voice that made my very blood curdle, "beware
of to-morrow!" It seemed at that moment not half a yard from my sword's
point; but the words were no sooner spoken than it was gone, and nothing
appeared further to obstruct my passage. I got home, and threw myself on
my bed, where I spent a few hours heavily enough; and this morning, as
no enemy was reported to be near us, I took my horse, and rode forward
to make up matters with you. I would not willingly fall until I am in
charity with a wronged friend.'
Edward had little doubt that this phantom was the operation of an
exhausted frame and depressed spirits, working on the belief common to
all Highlanders in such superstitions.
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