"But what can they be going to do?" she asked incredulously, but with
curious anxiety.

"Blest if I know! but I've heard that old man a-praying about what he
called 'the coming of the Lord,' and talking about having visions of
'the day and the month,' till I've gone a'most distracted, for otherwise
he does pray so beautiful it reminds me of my mother. He's talking of
'those poor sheep in the wilderness,' and 'leading them' to something.
He's mad, and there's a dozen of them ready to do any mad thing he
says."

"You ought to go and tell the ministers--tell the men of the town."

"Not I--nice fool I'd look! What in this world have I to accuse him of,
except what I've heard him praying about? I've done myself harm enough
by having him here."

"What do you want me to do then?"

"Whatever you like; I've told you the truth. There was a carter at
Turrifs drunk himself to death because of this unfortunate Mr. Cameron's
rising again--that's one murder; and there'll be another."

With that he turned on his heel and left her in his own room. He only
turned once to look in at the door again. "If _you're_ in any trouble,
I'm real soft-hearted, Eliza; I'll be real good to you, though you've
been crusty to me."

If she was in trouble then, she did not show it to him.