"The waning planet seemed to linger on the hill, and shed a long sickly
wake on the midnight tarn, that sleeped in the hollow of the mountain,
bright and smooth as if the brown moss had been inlaid with polished
steel, except where a wild-duck glided over the shining surface, or the
wing of the slow-sailing owl flitted winnowingly across, dimming it for
a moment, like a mirror breathed upon. I was sitting on the small
moss-grown cairn, at the eastern end; the shadow of the black hills was
cast so clearly in the water, that you could not trace the shore of the
small lake, nor define the water-line beneath the hazel bushes; and the
stars were reflected in another heaven scarcely less pure than their
own. I heard the rushing of the burn over its rugged channel, as it
blended with the loch, and the melancholy bleating of the sheep on the
hill-side, and the low bark of the colleys, and the distant shout of
the herds watching the circular folds, high up on the moor,--when I
felt a touch on my shoulder, and, glancing down, I saw a long, pale
female hand resting on it, as of a person, who was standing behind me:
it was thin and wasted, and semi-transparent as alabaster, or a white
cornelian stone, with the blue veins twining amongst the prominent
sinews, and on the marriage-finger there was a broken ring--I saw it as
clearly as I see my own hand now, for the ends of the small gold wire
of which it was composed stood up and out from the fleshless finger. I
kenned weel who was there, but I had no power to speak. The sigh was
repeated, and then I heard a low still voice, inarticulate and scarcely
audible at first, like a distant echo from the hill-side, although I
had a fearful conviction that it was uttered close behind
me;--presently it assumed a composed but most melancholy tone--yes, Mr
Brail, so sure as there is a God above us, Jessy Miller--yea, the dead
spoke in that awful moment to the living."
"Oh, nonsense, man!" I said; "really you are getting mad in earnest
now, Lennox; this will never do."
He paid no attention to me, but went on--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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