His face was not to be well seen, because of the flapping and flickering of the candle-flames, and the shadows they sent waving huge over all, like the flaunting of a black flag.

Through the flicker and the shadow the laird was still peering at him, when suddenly, without opening his eyes, the old man raised himself to a sitting posture--all of a piece, like a figure of wood lifted from behind.
The laird then saw his face, and upon it the expression as of one suffering from some horrible nightmare--so terrified was it, so wrathful, so disgusted, all in one--and rose in haste to rouse him from a drunken dream.

But ere he reached him he opened his eyes, and his expression changed--not to one of relief, but to utter collapse, as if the sleep-dulled horrors of the dream had but grown real to him as he woke.

His under lip trembled like a dry yellow leaf in a small wind; his right arm rose slowly from the shoulder and stuck straight out in the direction of his host, while his hand hung from the wrist; and he stared as upon one loosed from hell to speak of horrors.

But it did not seem to the laird that, although turned straight towards him, his eyes rested on him; they did not appear to be focused for him, but for something beyond him.