He was so far successful for a time; but, as night approached, his uncomfortable reflections and anticipations began again to crowd into his mind. He must fulfil his promise of visiting his guest of the cave, a guest whom he now could not help looking upon with horror as a foul murderer; and yet, if he disbelieved the reality of the previous night’s visitation, there was no reason that he should so regard him more now, than he had done before. The difficulty of contriving the means of managing his visit, so that it should escape observation or suspicion on the part of his lady, or his domestics, was very considerable. His lady was that evening more than ordinarily solicitous about him, from the conviction that pressed upon her, that he had had little or no sleep the previous night, and remarking his jaded appearance, she eagerly urged him to retire to bed at an early hour.
“My dearest,” said he affectionately, “I shall; but before I can do so, I have some otter-traps to set. Perhaps I had better go and finish that business now, while there is yet some twilight. Go you to your chamber, and retire to rest. I shall sleep all the sounder by and bye, after breathing the fresh air of this balmy evening for an hour or so.”
The lady yielded to his persuasion, and she had no sooner left him, than he took an opportunity of filling his basket, with such provisions as he could appropriate for the stranger, with the least possible chance of detection; and putting a few of his otter-traps over all, by way of a blind, he sallied forth in the direction of the river. There he first most conscientiously made good his word, by planting his traps, and then, as it was by that time dark, he turned his steps up the side of Ben-Cruachan, and made the best of his way towards the cliffs where the cave was situated. As he drew near to its mouth, he was, in some degree, alarmed by observing a light proceeding from it. He approached it with caution, and, on entering it, he beheld the stranger sitting in the farthest corner of it, on the bed of heather, with his figure drawn up and compressed together, and his features painfully distorted, whilst his eyes were intently fixed on vacancy. For a moment Inverawe doubted whether some fit had not seized upon him; but he started at the noise made by the entrance of his protector, and sprang up to meet him.
“Oh, Inverawe,” said he, “what a relief it is to behold you! Oh what a wretched weary time I have passed since you left me!”
“I have brought you something to comfort you,” said Inverawe, so shocked with his haggard appearance, and conscience-worn countenance, as almost to recoil from him. “You know that I could not come sooner. You seem to be exhausted with watching. You had better take some of this wine.”
“Oh, yes, yes, give me wine—a large cup of wine!” cried the stranger, wildly seizing the vessel which Inverawe had filled, and swallowing its contents with avidity. “Oh, such a time as I have spent!”
“This place is quite secure,” said Inverawe. “You have no cause for such anxiety, if you will only be prudent. But why do you keep this light burning? Did I not tell you it was most dangerous to do so. Some wandering or belated shepherd or huntsman might be guided hither by it, and if your retreat should be once discovered, your certain destruction must follow.”
“I could not remain in darkness,” replied the stranger, with a cold shudder; “it was agonizing to do so! Horrid shapes continually haunted me,—horrid, horrid shapes!—Even the shutting of my eyes could not exclude them. Oh, such a night as last! never have I before endured any thing so horrible.”
“You must take your own way then,” said Inverawe, as he spread out the contents of the basket before him; “I am sorry that I can do nothing better for you, but this is the best fare I could provide for you, without exciting suspicion in my own house. Stay—here is a blanket to help to make your bed somewhat more comfortable. And now, I must hurry away.—Yet, before I go, let me once more caution you about the light. Perhaps I had better make all secure, by taking the lamp with me.”
“Oh no! no! no! no!” cried the stranger, his eyes glaring like those of a maniac, whilst he rushed towards the lamp and seized it up, and clasped it within his arms. “No, nothing shall rend it from me! I will sacrifice my life to preserve it. What! would you leave me to another long, long, and dreadful night? Would you leave me to utter darkness and despair?”