I had not resumed the appearance of attention to the preacher for five minutes, when the same voice whispered, "Listen, but do not look back." I kept my face in the same direction.

"You are in danger in this place," the voice proceeded; "so am I--meet me to-night on the Brigg, at twelve preceesely--keep at home till the gloaming, and avoid observation." Here the voice ceased, and I instantly turned my head.

But the speaker had, with still greater promptitude, glided behind the pillar, and escaped my observation.

I was determined to catch a sight of him, if possible, and extricating myself from the outer circle of hearers, I also stepped behind the column.

All there was empty; and I could only see a figure wrapped in a mantle, whether a Lowland cloak, or Highland plaid, I could not distinguish, which traversed, like a phantom, the dreary vacuity of vaults which I have described.
I made a mechanical attempt to pursue the mysterious form, which glided away and vanished in the vaulted cemetery, like the spectre of one of the numerous dead who rested within its precincts.