"Hear him! Ay, he saw't his ain sel. Then it maun be true. Oh my dear lord!"
Poor Malcolm fell on his knees by the earl's little chair in such agitation that Mr. Cardross looked up from his book, and Helen from her peaceful needle-work, which was rarely out of her active hands.
"He thinks he has seen his master's wraith; and because the earl signed his will this morning, he is sure to die, especially as Lord Cairnforth saw the same thing himself. Will you say, my lord, what you did see?"
"Mr. Menteith, I believe I saw a man peering in at that window."
"It wasna a man—it was a speerit," moaned Malcolm. "My lord's wraith, for sure."
"I don't think so, Malcolm; for it was a tall, thin figure that moved about lightly and airily—was come and gone in a moment. Not very like my wraith, unless wraith of myself as I might have been."
The little party were silent till Helen said,
"What do you think it was, then?"
"Certainly a man, made of honest flesh and blood, though not much of either, for he was excessively thin and sickly-looking. He just 'keerkit in,' as Malcolm says, and disappeared."
"What an odd circumstance!" said Mr. Menteith.