I described the glee of
the fiends at this hideous conception, and their eagerness to know if it
were consummated. The story concluded with the Appeal of Alice to the
spectre of Walter Brome; his reply, absolving her from every stain; and
the trembling awe with which ghost and devil fled as from the sinless
presence of an angel.
The sun had gone down. While I held my page of wonders in the fading
light, and read how Alice and her brother were left alone among the
graves, my voice mingled with the sigh of a summer wind, which passed
over the hill-top, with the broad and hollow sound as of the flight of
unseen spirits. Not a word was spoken till I added that the wizard's
grave was close beside us, and that the wood-wax had sprouted originally
from his unhallowed bones. The ladies started; perhaps their cheeks
might have grown pale had not the crimson west been blushing on them; but
after a moment they began to laugh, while the breeze took a livelier
motion, as if responsive to their mirth. I kept an awful solemnity of
visage, being, indeed, a little piqued that a narrative which had good
authority in our ancient superstitions, and would have brought even a
church deacon to Gallows Hill, in old witch times, should now be
considered too grotesque and extravagant for timid maids to tremble at.
Pages:
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209