The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 393
suggestions of fear, sometimes by fixing her mind upon the distressed condition of her sister, and the duty she lay under to afford her aid, should that
be in her power; and more frequently by recurring in mental prayer to the
protection of that being to whom night is as noon-day.
Thus drowning at one time her fears by fixing her mind on a subject of
overpowering interest, and arguing them down at others by referring herself to the protection of the Deity, she at length approached the place
assigned for this mysterious conference.
It was situated in the depth of the valley behind Salisbury Crags, which
has for a background the north-western shoulder of the mountain called
Arthur's Seat, on whose descent still remain the ruins of what was once a
chapel, or hermitage, dedicated to St. Anthony the Eremite. A better site
for such a building could hardly have been selected; for the chapel, situated
among the rude and pathless cliffs, lies in a desert, even in the immediate
vicinity of a rich, populous, and tumultuous capital: and the hum of the
city might mingle with the orisons of the recluses, conveying as little of
worldly interest as if it had been the roar of the distant ocean. Beneath
the steep ascent on which these ruins are still visible, was, and perhaps is
still pointed out, the place where the wretch Nichol Muschat, who has been
already mentioned in these pages, had closed a long scene of cruelty towards his unfortunate wife, by murdering her, with circumstances of
uncommon barbarity.* The execration in which the man's crime was
held extended itself to the place where it was perpetrated, which was
marked by a small cairn, or heap of stones, composed of those which each
chance passenger had thrown there in testimony of abhorrence, and on the
principle, it would seem, of the ancient British malediction, " May you have
a cairn for your burial place!"
As our heroine approached this ominous and unhallowed spot, she paused.
and looked to the moon, now rising broad in the north-west, and shedding
a more distinct light than it had afforded during her walk thither. Eyeing
the planet for a moment, she then slowly and fearfully turned her head
towards the cairn, from which it, was at first averted. She was at first disappointed. Nothing was visible beside the little pile of stones, which shone
grey in the moonlight. A multitude of confused suggestions rushed on her
mind. Had her correspondent deceived her, and broken his appointment?
-was he too tardy at the appointment he had made?-or had some strange
turn of fate prevented him from appearing as he proposed?-or, if he were
an unearthly being, as her secret apprehensions suggested, was it his
object merely to delude her with false hopes, and put her to unnecessary
toil and terror, according to the nature, as she had heard, of those wandering demons?-or did he purpose to blast her with the sudden horrors of his
presence when she had come close to the place of rendezvous? These anxious reflections did not prevent her approaching to the cairn with a pace
that, though slow, was determined.
When she was within two yards of the heap of stones, a figure rose
suddenly up from behind it, and Jeanie scarce forbore to scream aloud at
what seemed the realization of the most frightful of her anticipations. She
constrained herself to silence, however, and, making a dead pause, suffered
the figure to open the conversation, which he did, by asking, in a voice
which agitation rendered tremulous and hollow, "Are- you the sister of
that ill-fated young woman?"
"I am - I am the sister of Effie Deans!" exclaimed Jeanie. " And as
ever you hope God will hear you at your need, tell me, if you can tell, what
can be done to save her!"
"I do not hope God will hear me at my need," was the singular answer.
"I do not deserve -I do not expect he will." This desperate language he
* See Note, Muschat's Cairn, p. 389.