He left the cave and set out for the Seaton; but, unable to feel at peace about his friends, resolved, on the way, to return after seeing his grandfather, and spend the night in the outer cave.
CHAPTER XXXI.
WANDERING STARS.
He had not been gone many minutes, when the laird passed once more through the strait, and stood a moment waiting for Phemy; she had persuaded him to go home to her father’s for the night.
But the next instant he darted back, with trembling hands, caught hold of Phemy, who was following him with the lantern, and stammered in her ear,—
“There’s somebody there! I dinna ken whaur they come frae.”
Phemy went to the front of the passage and listened, but could hear nothing, and returned.
“Bide ye whaur ye are, laird,” she said; “I’ll gang doon, an’ gien I hear or see naething, I’ll come back for ye.”
With careful descent, placing her feet on the well-known points unerringly, she reached the bottom, and peeped into the outer cave. The place was quite dark. Through its jaws the sea glimmered faint in the low light that skirted the northern horizon; and the slow pulse of the tide upon the rocks, was the sole sound to be heard. No: another in the cave close beside her!—one small solitary noise, as of shingle yielding under the pressure of a standing foot! She held her breath and listened, her heart beating so loud that she feared it would deafen her to what would come next. A good many minutes, half an hour it seemed to her, passed, during which she heard nothing more; but as she peeped out for the twentieth time, a figure glided into the field of vision bounded by the cave’s mouth. It was that of a dumpy woman. She entered the cave, tumbled over one of the forms, and gave a cry coupled with an imprecation.
“The deevil roast them ’at laid me sic a trap!” she said. “I hae broken the shins the auld markis laudit!”
“Hold your wicked tongue!” hissed a voice in return, almost in Phemy’s very ear.