n that lonely crag, and her conductor at her
side. He grasped her hand: she felt his burning touch, and a sudden
smart as though she were stung--a drop of blood hung on her finger. He
unbound the burning fillet, and she saw as though it were a glimpse of
that unquenchable, unconsuming flame that devoured him. He took the
blood and wrote upon her brow. The agony was intense, and a faint shriek
escaped her. He spoke, but the sound rang in her ears like the knell of
hopes for ever departed.

For words of such presumptuous blasphemy, tradition must be voiceless.
The demon looked upwards; but, as if blasted by some withering sight,
his eyes were suddenly withdrawn.

* * * * *

What homage was exacted, let no one seek to know.

After a pause, the deceiver again addressed her; and his form changed as
he spoke.

"One day in the year alone thou shalt be subject to mischance. It is the
feast of All-Hallows, when the witches meet to renew their vows. On this
night thou must be as they, and must join their company. Still thou
mayest hide thyself under any form thou shalt choose; but it shall abide
upon thee until midnight. Till then thy spells are powerless. On no
other day shall harm befall thee."

The maiden felt her pride dilate:--her weak and common nature she
thought was no longer a degradation; she seemed as though she could
bound through infinite space. Already was she invested with the
attributes of immateriality, when she awoke!--and in her own chamber,
whither the servants had conveyed her from the crag an hour before,
having found her asleep, or in a swoon, upon the verge of the precipice.
She looked at her hand; the sharp wound was there, and she felt her brow
tingle as if to remind her of that irrevocable pledge.

Lord William sued in vain to the maid of Bernshaw Tower. She repulsed
him with scorn and contumely. He vowed that he would win her, though the
powers of darkness withstood the attempt. To accomplish this impious
purpose, he sought Mause, the witch's dwelling. It was a dreary hut,
built in a rocky cleft, shunned by all as the abode of wicked and
malignant spirits, which the dame kept and nursed as familiars, for the
fulfilment of her malicious will.

The night was dark and heavy when Lord William tied his steed to a rude
gate that guarded the entrance to the witch's den. He raised the latch,
but there was no light within.

"Holloa!" cried the courageous intruder; but a