“Auld Peght!” exclaimed the grand-dame; “na, na—­bless thee frae scathe, my bairn, it’s been nae Peght that—­it’s been the Brown Man of the Moors!  O weary fa’ thae evil days!—­what can evil beings be coming for to distract a poor country, now it’s peacefully settled, and living in love and law—­O weary on him! he ne’er brought gude to these lands or the indwellers.  My father aften tauld me he was seen in the year o’ the bloody fight at Marston-Moor, and then again in Montrose’s troubles, and again before the rout o’ Dunbar, and, in my ain time, he was seen about the time o’ Bothwell-Brigg, and they said the second-sighted Laird of Benarbuck had a communing wi’ him some time afore Argyle’s landing, but that I cannot speak to sae preceesely—­it was far in the west.—­O, bairns, he’s never permitted but in an ill time, sae mind ilka ane o’ ye to draw to Him that can help in the day of trouble.”

Earnscliff now interposed, and expressed his firm conviction that the person they had seen was some poor maniac, and had no commission from the invisible world to announce either war or evil.  But his opinion found a very cold audience, and all joined to deprecate his purpose of returning to the spot the next day.

“O, my bonny bairn,” said the old dame (for, in the kindness of her heart, she extended her parental style to all in whom she was interested)—–­“You should beware mair than other folk—­there’s been a heavy breach made in your house wi’ your father’s bloodshed, and wi’ law-pleas, and losses sinsyne;—­and you are the flower of the flock, and the lad that will build up the auld bigging again (if it be His will) to be an honour to the country, and a safeguard to those that dwell in it—­you, before others, are called upon to put yoursell in no rash adventures—­for yours was aye ower venturesome a race, and muckle harm they have got by it.”

“But I am sure, my good friend, you would not have me be afraid of going to an open moor in broad daylight?”

“I dinna ken,” said the good old dame; “I wad never bid son or friend o’ mine haud their hand back in a gude cause, whether it were a friend’s or their ain—­that should be by nae bidding of mine, or of ony body that’s come of a gentle kindred—­But it winna gang out of a grey head like mine, that to gang to seek for evil that’s no fashing wi’ you, is clean against law and Scripture.”

Earnscliff resigned an argument which he saw no prospect of maintaining with good effect, and the entrance of supper broke off the conversation.  Miss Grace had by this time made her appearance, and Hobbie, not without a conscious glance at Earnscliff, placed himself by her side.  Mirth and lively conversation, in which the old lady of the house took the good-humoured share which so well becomes old age, restored to the cheeks of the damsels the roses which their brother’s tale of the apparition had chased away, and they danced and sung for an hour after supper as if there were no such things as goblins in the world.