“Now just at that time, only it had not yet reached the glen, a terrible story was going about the country, of a beast in the hills, that went biting every living thing he could get at, and whatever he bit went raving-mad. He never ate any creature he attacked, never staid to kill it, but just came up with a rush, bit it, and was out of sight in a moment. It was generally in the twilight he came. He appeared--nobody ever saw from where--made his gnash, and was gone. There was great terror and dismay wherever the story was heard, so that people would hardly venture across their thresholds after sun-down, for terror lest the beast should dash out of the borders of the dark upon them, and leave his madness in them. Some said it was a sheep-dog, but some who thought they had seen it, said it was too large for any collie, and was, they believed, a mad wolf; for though there are no wolves in Scotland now, my lady, there were at one time, and this is a very old story.” Lady Joan gaped audibly. “I am wearying you, my lady!” said Cosmo, penitently. “No, no! dear boy,” answered Lady Joan, sorry, and a little ashamed. “It is only that I am very weary. I think the cold tires one.” “I will tell you the rest another time,” said Cosmo cheerily. “You must lie down on the sofa, and I will cover you up warm.” “No, no; please go on. Indeed I want to hear the rest of it.” “Well,” resumed Cosmo, “the news of this wolf, or whatever it was, had come to the ears of the farmer for the first time that day at a fair, and he was hurrying home with his head and his heart and his heels full of it, when he saw Mary sitting on the white stone by the track, feeling as safe as if she were in paradise, and as sad as if she were in purgatory.--That’s how Grizzie tells it--I suppose because some of her people are papists.--But, for as much as he wanted to marry her, you could hardly say he was in love with her--could you, Lady Joan?--when I tell you that, instead of stopping and taking her and her sheep home, he hurried past her, crying out, ‘Gang hame, Mary. There’s a mad beast on the hill. Rin, rin--a’ ’t ye can. Never min’ yer sheep.’ His last words came from the distance, for he never stayed a step while he spoke.