'
'And now,' said Fergus, 'while we are upon the subject of clanship--what
think you now of the prediction of the Bodach Glas?'--Then, before
Edward could answer, 'I saw him again last night--he stood in the slip
of moonshine, which fell from that high and narrow window towards my
bed. Why should I fear him, I thought--to-morrow, long ere this time, I
shall be as immaterial as he. "False Spirit!" I said, "art thou come to
close thy walks on earth, and to enjoy thy triumph in the fall of the
last descendant of thine enemy?" The spectre seemed to beckon and to
smile as he faded from my sight. What do you think of it?--I asked the
same question of the priest, who is a good and sensible man; he admitted
that the Church allowed that such apparitions were possible, but urged
me not to permit my mind to dwell upon it, as imagination plays us such
strange tricks. What do you think of it?'
'Much as your confessor,' said Waverley, willing to avoid dispute upon
such a point at such a moment. A tap at the door now announced that good
man, and Edward retired while he administered to both prisoners the last
rites of religion, in the mode which the Church of Rome prescribes.
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