hat I had seen in
that fatal picture in Stackhouse; all this, with the dead time of
night, as it seemed to me, (for I had gone through my first sleep,)
all joined to produce a wicked fancy in me, that the form which I had
beheld was not my aunt but some witch. Her mumbling of her prayers
confirmed me in this shocking idea. I had read in Glanvil of those
wicked creatures reading their prayers _backwards_, and I thought
that this was the operation which her lips were at this time employed
about. Instead of flying to her friendly lap for that protection which
I had so often experienced when I have been weak and timid, I shrunk
back terrified and bewildered to my bed, where I lay in broken sleeps
and miserable fancies, till the morning, which I had so much reason to
wish for, came. My fancies a little wore away with the light, but an
impression was fixed, which could not for a long time be done away.
In the day-time, when my father and mother were about the house, when
I saw them familiarly speak to my aunt, my fears all vanished; and
when the good creature has taken me upon her knees, and shewn me any
kindness more than ordinary, at such times I have melted into tears,
and longed to tell her what naughty foolish fancies I had had of her.
But when night returned, that figure which I had seen recurred;--the
posture, the half-closed eyes, the mumbling and muttering which I
had heard, a confusion was in my head, _who_ it was I had seen that
night:--it was my aunt, and it was not my aunt:--it was that good
creature who loved me above all the world, engaged at her good task
of devotions--perhaps praying for some good to me. Again, it was a
witch,--a creature hateful to God and man, reading backwards the good
prayers; who would perhaps destroy me. In these conflicts of mind I
passed several weeks, till, by a revolution in my fate, I was removed
to the house of a female relation of my mother's, in a distant part
of the county, who had come on a visit to our house, and observing my
lonely ways, and apprehensive of the ill effect of my mode of living
upon my health, begged leave to take me home to her house to reside
for a short time. I went, with some reluctance at leaving my closet,
my dark walk, and even my aunt, who had been such a source of both
love and terror to me. But I went, and soon found the good effects of
a change of scene. Instead of melancholy closets, and lonely avenues
of trees, I saw lightsome rooms and cheerful fa