That night, an hour after midnight, the two women went to a "piece of ground lying between two manors," and there made a grave of Hector's length, near to the sea-flood. A few nights after this--and it was January, too--Hector, wrapped in blankets, was carried out of his sick bed, and laid in this grave; he, his foster-mother, and M'Ingareach all silent as death, until Cristiane should have gotten speech with their master, the devil. The sods were then laid over the laird, and the witch M'Ingareach sat down by him, while Cristiane Dayzell, with a young boy in her hand, ran the breadth of nine rigs or furrows, coming back to the grave, to ask the witch "who was her choice." M'Ingareach, prompted of course by the devil, answered that "Mr. Hector was her choice to live and his brother George to die for him." This ceremony was repeated thrice, and then they all returned silently to the house, Mr. Hector carried in his blankets as before. The strangest thing of all was that Mr. Hector was not killed by the ceremony. Hector Munro was now convinced that everything possible had been done, and that his half-brother must perforce be his sacrifice. In his gratitude he made M'Ingareach keeper of his sheep, and so uplifted her that the common people durst not oppose her for their lives. It was the public talk that he favoured her "gif she had been his own wife;" and once he kept her out of the way "at his own charges," when she was cited to appear before the court to answer to the crime of witchcraft. But in spite of the tremendous evidence against him, Hector got clear off, as his stepmother had done before him, and we hear no more of the Fowlis follies and the Fowlis crimes. Nothing but their rank and the fear of the low people saved them. Slighter crimes than theirs, and on more slender evidence, had been sufficient cause for condemnation ere now; and Lady Katherine's poisonings, and Hector Munro's incantations, would have met with the fate the one at least deserved, save for the power and aid of clanship. BESSIE ROY.