His road lay down the glen, past Duncan's cottage, at whose door he
dismounted, but he did not find him. Taking the bridle on his arm, he
walked by his horse the rest of the way. It was about nine o'clock,
and the night very dark. As he neared the house, he heard Duncan's
voice. "Malcolm, my son! Will it pe your ownself?" it said.

"It wull that, daddy," answered Malcolm.

The piper was sitting on a fallen tree, with the snow settling softly
upon him.

"But it's ower cauld for ye to be sittin' there i' the snaw, an' the
mirk tu," added Malcolm.

"Ta tarkness will not be ketting to ta inside of her," returned the
seer. "Ah, my poy! where ta light kets in, ta tarkness will pe ketting
in too. This now, your whole pody will pe full of tarkness, as ta
Piple will say, and Tuncan's pody tat will pe full of ta light." Then
with suddenly changed tone he said, "Listen, Malcolm, my son! Shell pe
ferry uneasy till you'll wass pe come home."

"What's the maitter noo, daddy?" returned Malcolm. "Onything wrang
aboot the hoose?"

"Something will pe wrong, yes, put she'll not can tell where. No, her
pody will not pe full of light! For town here, in ta curset Lowlands,
ta sight has peen almost cone from her, my son. It will now pe no more
as a co creeping troo' her, and shell nefer see plain no more till
she'll pe come pack to her own mountains."