The calves and the sheep themselves, with their cuttit throats, and glazed een, and ghastly girning faces, were hanging about on pins, heels uppermost.

Losh me! I thought on Bluebeard and his wives in the bloody chamber! And all the time it was growing darker and darker, and more dreary; and all was as quiet as death itself.

It looked, by all the world, like a grave, and me buried alive within it; till the rottens came out of their holes to lick the blood, and whisked about like wee evil spirits.

I thought on my father and my mother, and how I should never see them more; for I was sure that Cursecowl would come in the dark, tie my hands and feet thegither, and lay me across the killing-stool.

I grew more and more frightened; and it grew more and more dark.