Soulis weel
kenned,--upon the threshold o' the manse.
It's a strange thing that the saul of man should be thirled into his
perishable body; but the minister saw that, an' his heart didnae break.
She didnae stand there lang; she began to move again, an' cam' slowly
toward Mr. Soulis whaur he stood under the saughs. A' the life o' his
body, a' the strength o' his speerit, were glowerin' frae his een. It
seemed she was gaun to speak, but wanted words, an' made a sign wi' the
left hand. There cam' a clap o' wund, like a cat's fuff; oot gaed the
can'le, the saughs skrieghed like folk' an' Mr. Soulis kenned that, live
or die, this was the end o' 't.
"Witch, beldam, devil!" he cried, "I charge you, by the power of God,
begone--if you be dead, to the grave; if you be damned, to hell."
An' at that moment the Lord's ain hand out o' the heevens struck
the Horror whaur it stood; the auld, deid, desecrated corp o' the
witch-wife, sae lang keepit frae the grave and hirselled round by deils,
lowed up like a brunstane spunk and fell in ashes to the grund; the
thunder followed, peal on dirling peal, the rairing rain upon the back
o' that; and Mr.
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