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.

134 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Repeat your defiance when I have counted thrice," said Everard, "'and
take the punishment of your insolence. Once -I have cocked my pistol —
Twice - I never missed my aim - By all that is sacred, I fire if you do not
withdraw. When I pronounce the next number, I will shoot you dead
where you stand. I am yet unwilling to shed blood -I give you another
chance of flight - once - twice - THRICE!"
Everard aimed at the bosom, and discharged his pistol. The figure waved
its arm in an attitude of scorn; and a loud laugh arose, during which the
light, as gradually growing weaker, danced and glimmered upon the apparition of the aged knight, and then disappeared. Everard's life-blood ran
cold to his heart-" Had he been of human mould," he thought, " the bullet
must have pierced him -but I have neither will nor power to fight with
supernatural beings."
The feeling of oppression was now so strong as to be actually sickening.
He groped his way, however, to the fireside, and flung on the embers which
were yet gleaming, a handful of dry fuel. It presently blazed, and afforded
him light to see the room in every direction. Ie looked cautiously, almost
timidly, around, and half expected some horrible phantom to become visible.
But he saw nothing save the old furniture, the reading desk, and other
articles, which had been left in the same state as when Sir Henry Lee departed. He felt an uncontrollable desire, mingled with much repugnance,
to look at the portrait of the ancient knight, which the form he had seen so
strongly resembled. Hie hesitated betwixt the opposing feelings, but at
length snatched, with desperate resolution, the taper which he had extinguished, and relighted it, ere the blaze of the fuel had again died away.
He held it up to the ancient portrait of Victor Lee, and gazed on it with
eager curiosity, not unmingled with fear. Almost the childish terrors of his
earlier days returned, and he thought the severe pale eye of the ancient
warrior followed his, and menaced him with its displeasure. And although
he quickly argued himself out of such an absurd belief, yet the mixed feelings of his mind were expressed in words that seemed half addressed to the
ancient portrait.
" Soul of my mother's ancestor," he said, "be it for weal or for woe, by
designing men, or by supernatural beings, that these ancient halls are disturbed, I am resolved to leave them on the morrow."
"I rejoice to hear it, with all my soul," said a voice behind him.
He turned, saw a tall figure in white, with a sort of turban upon its
head, and dropping the candle in the exertion, instantly grappled with it.
" Thou at least art palpable," he said.
"Palpable?" answered he whom he grasped so strongly —"'Sdeath,
methinks you might know that without the risk of choking me; and if you
loose me not, I'll show you that two can play at the game of wrestling."
" Roger Wildrake!" said Everard, letting the cavalier loose, and stepping
back.
" Roger Wildrake? ay, truly. Did you take me for Roger Bacon, come
to help you raise the devil? - for the place smells of sulphur consumedly."
" It is the pistol I fired-Did you not hear it?"
"Why, yes, it was the first thing waked me- for that nightcap which I
pulled on, made me sleep like a dormouse-Pshaw, I feel my brains giddy
with it yet."
" And wherefore came you not on the instant?-I never needed help more."
" I came as fast as I could," answered Wildrake; "but it was some time ere
I got my senses collected, for I was dreaming of that cursed field at Naseby.
-and then the door of my room was shut, and hard to open, till I played
the locksmith with my foot."
" How! it was open when I went to bed," said Everard.
" It was locked when I came out of bed, though," said Wildrake, " and I
marvel you heard me not when I forced it open."