But no "dander" was to be seen. It was by much too evident that Marion Webster would never more be seen on earth; and, what might naturally add to the grief of her friends, they had no chance of seeing her again in the world to come, unless at the expense of a _condemnation_--a dear passport to see an old friend. Such a night was never seen in Christ's Kirk as that on which Marion Webster was carried off by his Sathanic Majesty. We have said quite enough to make it to be understood that Marion Webster did in reality go off in a coach with the stranger who has occupied so much of our attention; but we have (being of Scottish origin) prudently abstained from giving any opinion of our own upon the question of the true character of him of the red cravat. The two drove off together, apparently with much affection, and, after they had got entirely beyond the reach of any supposed followers, they became comparatively easy, and very soon commenced a conversation--an amusement never awanting when there is a woman within reach of a person's articulated breath. "What is the meaning o' a' this, Geordie, man?" said Marion, looking lovingly into the face of the stranger. "Could I no have met ye this night at the Three Sisters--the trees in the wood o' Ballochgray--without your coming to Christ's Kirk, and spreading the fear o' the deil frae town's-end to town's-end? But whar are we journeying to? and what means the carriage?" The stranger thus accosted by the familiar name by which he was known to the young woman, smiled, and told her to hold her tongue, and resign herself to the pleasure of being carried through the air at the rate of ten miles an hour. The moon was now shining beautifully "owre tower and tree;" and ever and anon the maiden glanced her blue eye on the "siller-smolt" scenes through which she passed, and then turned to the face of her companion, who seemed to enjoy silently the wonder expressed by her fair face. After rolling on for some time, they came to a road or avenue of tall beech trees, at the end of which appeared an old castle, on which the moonbeams were glancing, and exhibiting in strange forms the turrets with which it was fancifully decorated. The grey owl's scream was borne along on the breeze that met them, and struck on Marion's ear in wild and fitful sounds--inspiring a dread which the presence of her mute lover did little to remove or assuage. "Is not that Ballochgray Castle?" said Marion, at last--"that fearfu place whar the Baron of Ballochgray haulds his court with the Evil One, on every Halloween night, when the bleak muirs are rife with the bad spirits o' the earth and air. Whar drives the man, Geordie? Oh, tell him to turn awa frae thae auld turrets and skreeching owls. I canna bear the sight o' the ane, or the eerie sound o' the ither."