Chance had taken a sure aim with the stone. Then came a clang of
broken glass; night fell upon them; sounds alternately dull and ringing
announced the bounding of the lantern down the bank, and its occasional
collision with the trees. A stone or two, which it had dislodged in its
descent, rattled behind it into the profundities of the glen; and then
silence, like night, resumed its sway; and they might bend their hearing
to its utmost pitch, but naught was to be heard except the rain, now
marching to the wind, now steadily falling over miles of open country. They were so nearly at an end of their abhorred task that they judged it
wisest to complete it in the dark. The coffin was exhumed and broken
open; the body inserted in the dripping sack and carried between them to
the gig; one mounted to keep it in its place, and the other, taking the
horse by the mouth, groped along by wall and bush until they reached the
wider road by the Fisher's Tryst. Here was a faint, diffused radiancy,
which they hailed like daylight; by that they pushed the horse to a good
pace and began to rattle along merrily in the direction of the town. They had both been wetted to the skin during their operations, and now,
as the gig jumped among the deep ruts, the thing that stood propped
between them fell now upon one and now upon the other. At every
repetition of the horrid contact each instinctively repelled it with the
greater haste; and the process, natural although it was, began to tell
upon the nerves of the companions. Macfarlane made some ill-favoured
jest about the farmer's wife, but it came hollowly from his lips, and
was allowed to drop in silence. Still their unnatural burden bumped from
side to side; and now the head would be laid, as if in confidence, upon
their shoulders, and now the drenching sackcloth would flap icily about
their faces. A creeping chill began to possess the soul of Fettes. He
peered at the bundle, and it seemed somehow larger than at first. All
over the country-side, and from every degree of distance, the farm dogs
accompanied their passage with tragic ululations; and it grew and grew
upon his mind that some unnatural miracle had been accomplished, that
some nameless change had befallen the dead body, and that it was in fear
of their unholy burden that the dogs were howling. "For God's sake," said he, making a great effort to arrive at speech,
"for God's sake, let's have a light!" Seemingly Macfarlane was affected in the same direction; for, though he
made no reply, he stopped the horse, passed the reins to his companion,
got down, and proceeded to kindle the remaining lamp. They had by that
time got no farther than the cross-road down to Auchenclinny. The rain
still poured as though the deluge were returning, and it was no easy
matter to make a light in such a world of wet and darkness. When at last
the flickering blue flame had been transferred to the wick and began to
expand and clarify, and shed a wide circle of misty brightness round the
gig, it became possible for the two young men to see each other and the
thing they had along with them. The rain had moulded the rough sacking
to the outlines of the body underneath; the head was distinct from the
trunk, the shoulders plainly modelled; something at once spectral and
human riveted their eyes upon the ghastly comrade of their drive. For some time Macfarlane stood motionless, holding up the lamp. A
nameless dread was swathed, like a wet sheet, about the body, and
tightened the white skin upon the face of Fettes; a fear that was
meaningless, a horror of what could not be, kept mounting to his brain. Another beat of the watch, and he had spoken. But his comrade
forestalled him. "That is not a woman," said Macfarlane, in a hushed voice. "It was a woman when we put her in," whispered Fettes. "Hold that lamp," said the other. "I must see her face." And as Fettes took the lamp his companion untied the fastenings of the
sack and drew down the cover from the head. The light fell very clear
upon the dark, well-moulded features and smooth-shaven cheeks of a too
familiar countenance, often beheld in dreams of both of these young men. A wild yell rang up into the night; each leaped from his own side into
the roadway: the lamp fell, broke, and was extinguished; and the horse,
terrified by this unusual commotion, bounded and went oft toward
Edinburgh at a gallop, bearing along with it, sole occupant of the gig,
the body of the dead and long-dissected Gray. END OF VOL. III