He remained seated upon the tombstone, wrapped in thought, and
apparently quite unconscious of the moonlight which now fell upon
his chest and legs. He was of middle stature, rather thick-set, with
over-developed arms and a labourer's hands, already hardened by toil;
his feet, shod with heavy laced boots, looked large and square-toed.
His general appearance, more particularly the heaviness of his limbs,
bespoke lowly origin. There was, however, something in him, in the
upright bearing of his neck and the thoughtful gleams of his eyes, which
seemed to indicate an inner revolt against the brutifying manual labour
which was beginning to bend him to the ground. He was, no doubt, an
intelligent nature buried beneath the oppressive burden of race and
class; one of those delicate refined minds embedded in a rough envelope,
from which they in vain struggle to free themselves. Thus, in spite of
his vigour, he seemed timid and restless, feeling a kind of unconscious
shame at his imperfection. An honest lad he doubtless was, whose very
ignorance had generated enthusiasm, whose manly heart was impelled by
childish intellect, and who could show alike the submissiveness of
a woman and the courage of a hero. On the evening in question he was
dressed in a coat and trousers of greenish corduroy. A soft felt hat,
placed lightly on the back of his head, cast a streak of shadow over his
brow.

As the neighbouring clock struck the half hour, he suddenly started from
his reverie. Perceiving that the white moonlight was shining full upon
him, he gazed anxiously ahead. Then he abruptly dived back into the
shade, but was unable to recover the thread of his thoughts. He now
realised that his hands and feet were becoming very cold, and impatience
seized hold of him. So he jumped upon the stone again, and once more
glanced over the Jas-Meiffren, which was still empty and silent.
Finally, at a loss how to employ his time, he jumped down, fetched