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.

TIHE ANTIQUARY. 127
Lovel replied in the negative.
" I am thinking," resumed the beggar, "that they'll be like mony folk's
gude gifts, that often seem maist gracious in adversity-or maybe it's a
parable, to teach us no to slight them that are in the darkness of sin and
the decay of tribulation, since God sends odours to refresh the mirkest hour,
and flowers and pleasant bushes to clothe the ruined buildings. And now
I wad like a wise man to tell me whether Heaven is maist pleased wi' the
sight we are looking upon - thae pleasant and quiet lang streaks o' moonlight that are lying sac still on the floor o' this auld kirk, and glancing
through the great pillars and stanchions o' the carved windows, and just
dancing like on the leaves o' the dark ivy as the breath o' wind shakes itI wonder whether this is mair pleasing to Heaven than when it was lighted
up wi' lamps, and candles nae doubt, and roughies,* and wi' the mirth and
the frankincent that they speak of in the Holy Scripture, and wi' organs
assuredly, and men and women singers, and sackbuts, and dulcimers, and
a' instruments o' music-I wonder if that was acceptable, or whether it is
of these grand parafie.o' ceremonies that holy writ says'It is an abomination to me.' I am thinking, Maister Lovel, if twa puir contrite spirits like
yours and mine fand grace to make our petition"H-lere Lovel laid his hand on the mendicant's arm, saying-" Hush! I
heard some one speak."
" I am dull o' hearing," answered Edie, in a whisper, "but we're surely
safe here - where was the sound?"
Lovel pointed to the door of the chancel, which, highly ornamented,
occupied the west end of the building, surmounted by the carved window,
which let in a flood of moonlight over it.
" They can be nane o' our folk," said Edie, in the same low and cautious
tone: "there's but twa o' them kens o' the place, and they're mony a mile
off, if they are still bound on their weary pilgrimage. I'll never think it's
the officers here at this time o' night. I am nae believer in auld wives'
stories about ghaists, though this is gey like a place for them-But mortal,
or of the other world, here they come - twa men and a light."
And in very truth, while the mendicant spoke, two human figures darkened with their shadows the entrance of the chancel which had before
opened to the moon-lit meadow beyond, and the small lantern which one
of them displayed, glimmered pale in the clear and strong beams of the
moon, as the evening star does among the lights of the departing day.
The first and most obvious idea was, that, despite the asseverations of Edie
Ochiltree, the persons who approached the ruins at an hour so uncommon
must be the officers of justice in quest of Lovel. But no part of their conduct confirmed the. suspicion. A touch and a whisper from the old man
warned Lovel that his best course was to remain quiet, and watch their
motions from their present place of concealment. Should anything appear
to render retreat necessary, they had behind them the private staircase and
cavern, by means of which they could escape into the wood long before
any danger of close pursuit. They kept themselves, therefore, as still as
possible, and observed with eager and anxious curiosity, every accent and
motion of these nocturnal wanderers.
After conversing together some time in whispers, the two figures advanced
into the middle of the chancel; and a voice, which Lovel at once recognised,
from its tone and dialect, to be that of Dousterswivel, pronounced in a
louder but still a smothered tone, "Indeed, mine goot sir, dere cannot be
one finer hour nor season for dis great purpose. You shall see, mine goot
sir, dat is all one bibble-babble dat Mr. Oldenbuck says, and dat he knows
no more of what he speaks than one little child. Mine soul! he expects to
get as rich as one Jew for his poor dirty one hundred pounds, which I care
a Links, or torches.