But what gars ye gang daunerin' aboot this place?
It's no yours ony langer.

Ye ken whan fowk's deid, they tyne the grip (loose hold).

Ye suld gang hame to yer wife.

She micht say a word to quaiet yer auld banes, for she's a douce an' a wice woman--the mistress.' Then followed a pause.

There was a horror about the old woman's voice, already half dissolved by death, in the desolate place, that almost took from Robert the power of motion.