Legends of Lancashire 10

Legends of Lancashire 10

The inmates exhibited a striking contrast to the ruined abode.

The echoes did not awake to the slow step of the aged, but to the

bounding tread of the young. The wind might rave around in fury,

but, at intervals, sweet voices were heard, joining in the music

of the heart. Sombre was the light which entered the apartments,

but there was no snowy head on which it could fall; shining was

every brow, and clustering the ringlets waving thereon. On the

rudely-framed seat, by the porch, no old man sat, like a dial, to

point out time’s flight, but a beautiful pair, with a little boy

sporting before them.

 

William Morden, and Emily Clifton, were the only survivors of

two noble families. The time of our Legend is six years after

their marriage, when their love had been pledged and crowned by

the birth of a boy. Sweet was their domestic bliss, but darkness

and death are prepared to enter upon the scene. The curse of

witchcraft is about to fall upon the holy beings, in all its

horrors and pollutions. The Chronicler shudders, as tradition

leads him to their tragic fate, and as it gleams upon the hellish

causes. The fair creatures have, in many a dream, for many a long

night, been cradled by his side, in beauty and love. Their voices

have whispered to him, their faces have smiled upon him, in the

mysteries of sleep. And yet he must now awake them to feel the

breath of unearthly enmity and power, withering their souls, while

serpents are even twined around their shroud!

 

On a calm evening, towards the beginning of summer, Emily was

seated in the old hall, expecting the arrival of her husband, who

had rode out early that day, to hunt, when he entered, with marks

of agitation on his countenance.

 

“William!” she exclaimed, as she arose to embrace him, “thou art

sad. It cannot be for want of success in the chase; you would not

dare”--and she gave him a playful blow on the cheek with her little

hand--“to appear before your wife so sorrowful, and with no better

excuse. But, love, you smile not. William, are you wounded? Have

you been thrown from your horse?”

 

“No, Emily,” was the reply, “I am safe, but my horse, in passing

the cave of which you are so much afraid, sunk down, as if

exhausted, though a moment before, he seemed capable of the

greatest exertion. Thus is it,” he continued, as he yielded to his

wife, who forced him down to a seat, whilst she leaned over him,

“our cattle have died, though green is the meadow on which they

grazed. And now, my favourite steed--aye, the very one, Emily,

whose neck arched so proudly beneath your gentle touch, after he

had borne me to your abode, where I wooed and won you as my bride,

is now, I fear, stiffening in death. My servant shook his head, as

I left Ranger to his care.”

 

“Poor Ranger,” interrupted the lady, “he was a proud animal, and

spurned acquaintance with others of his kind. Yet, William, dost

thou recollect how closely and fondly he trotted by the side of

my white pony, on the evening you brought me to your home, and

how the kind animals allowed me to be locked in your embrace,

although their bridles hung loose? Nay, more, did they not choose

a lonely path, with the moon shining all sweetly upon it, through

the hushed forest, as if there ought to be nothing known to us,

save each other; and that, orphans as we were, with the voices

of gone friends, as silent to us as the night, still, there was

hope shedding its rays over our common lot? Now both of them may

be lost. Still you could have visited me without your steed, and

I should, perhaps, have been less coy after your fatigues, and,”

she added, as her fair hands played among the curls which shaded

her husband’s brow, “I could have come hither without my palfrey,

leaning on your arm, William.”

 

The sorrowful man could not reject the consolation of his beautiful

wife. Though unforeseen calamities had gathered thickly upon him,

as if there was some direct cause, separate from the general course

of Providence, yet every chain of human affection was unbroken; and

though his fold was now almost forsaken, on his hearth still moved

the beings whom he loved, and not a household god had been thrown

down. His little Edward had entered, and was climbing his knee, and

hugging his neck,--and could he refuse to be happy? He had regained

a portion of his usual gaiety, when his servant entered.

 

“Master, Ranger is dead! I took the bridle from off his head, and

he could no more shew that he was at liberty. There was a strange

shriek after he fell down. He licked my hands, and his tongue was

black and swollen.”

 

“Shriek, dost thou say?” returned his master, “I have heard that

horses groan when in pain, but that they shriek, I cannot believe.”

 

“It could not be the horse,” was the reply, “no--no--nor was it a

human voice.”

 

They gazed upon the servant. His tones were low, as if from secret

terror, and his countenance was deadly pale. He continued, “I have

heard the shriek before, master, when old Margery, who nursed you

when a boy--died. She raised her hands, drew herself up on the

pillow--as if escaping from some invisible spirit--and sunk down

lifeless. The neighbours said, that at that moment the witch of the

cave passed the window, with hurried steps.”

 

Emily Morden looked upon her husband, and took their little boy,

and folded him closely in her bosom. Not a word was spoken, but

many, many thoughts were theirs. Their fears seemed to recognize in

the sweet blue eyes, the calm brow, and the golden locks, signs of

a dark fate. The little fellow, however, was unconscious of their

feelings, and darted forth to the lawn to pursue the shadows, which

were now fast settling, and to gambol with his favourite pet lamb.

Soon fatigued with his sports, he leaned upon the tame animal,

like a beautiful picture with a pure back ground. At that moment

an old woman stood before him. He saw not her dark and hideous

features, more frightful because she attempted to smile: he only

saw the tempting fruit which she held. He heard not the unearthly

tones of her voice, he only distinguished the words, “Shall I give

you it?” He felt not the touch of her withered, bony hands, as he

received it. He cared not, though these hands were placed upon his

brow, as he devoured the fruit. He clapped his hands, and shouted,

“Good,--good mamma! give little Edwy more,--more!” Oh! it was

horrible to see the beautiful boy playing with a foul hag, hand in

hand, cheek to cheek, and to hear him address her, as “kind mamma.”

The lamb had fled far over the glen, at her approach--but the boy

had even kissed her black and shrivelled lips! He was throwing his

arms around her neck, amidst the long locks of white hair, which

hung like serpents over it, when he was dragged away by his mother,

who had rushed forth with her husband, upon beholding the woman’s

familiarities. The hand of William Morden was raised, in fury, to

strike the hellish crone, whom he knew to be the witch of the cave,

when she disappeared to a short distance, where her form dilated

against the faint light of the sky, and then she glared with her

blood-red eyes, full upon him. She tossed her hands in the air,

then approached a little nearer, and pointed to Emily, while she

sung in awful notes--

 

Has early summer fruit for man?--

No, but for spirits:--yet the boy

Has tasted! and the mother ran

Too late!--too late, to shield her joy--

Embrace him! so have I!

Ere the sun sinks, from him you’ll fly,

Nor press a couch where he may die!

His mouth is sweet; beware his fangs!

Kiss him, he bites in maddest pangs!

 

The still calm all around, allowed every word and tone to be

distinctly heard. When she had ended, she gave a shriek of delight,

and slowly proceeded in the direction of the cave; at intervals

turning round, and raising her arms. All objects around her could

not be perceived, still those small malicious eyes sparkled in the

gathering twilight, and her voice could be heard muttering.

 

“Nay, William, follow her not!” exclaimed Emily, as her husband

prepared to pursue the witch. But he was now maddened by rage and

despair, and he started forward, fully resolved to enter the cave,

and brave its unseen and unknown terrors.

 

She anxiously gazed after him, until his form was altogether lost

in the distance. The many tales to which she had listened, of the

witch’s power and revenge, were unfolded again, and they seemed

scrolls of the future, written with the fate of herself, and all

that were dear. She led Edward into the hall, and soon perceived

a marvellous change in the boy. At first he was silent, and did

not acknowledge the attentions of his mother. He then shrieked in

terror, and laughed in joy, alternately. His features were, at

times, absolutely hideous, grinning, as if with malice, and then

they became more beautiful than a mother’s eye ever beheld.

 

“Mamma! mamma!” he would exclaim,--and he looked from his mother

upon vacancy--“give Edwy more--oh! it is sweet, sweet. Heed not the

man, wicked man, who drives you away;--come back to Edwy!”

 

At length she succeeded in hushing him to rest, and her thoughts

were of her husband. Darkness was now over the earth, and she

imagined that the hag’s face was gazing in upon her at the

casement, but she dared not rise to close it, lest she might

disturb the sleeper. Sometimes, too, another form, seen by the

moonlight, was there, and the witch dared to embrace the husband,

in sight of his trembling wife! Hour after hour passed, and the

next would be midnight, and William had not returned. In vain did

his faithful servant, whom she had summoned to bear her company,

suggest that his master might have refused to leave the cave, until

the woman had read the destiny of the family more distinctly.

 

“Nay, Roger,” she said, “something has befallen your master. Oh! if

he should return no more!” and her agony was too deep for tears.

 

“My lady, fear not. It is said that all those who are bewitched in

the cave, have first listened to the love confessions of the old

woman’s daughter, and drunk the cup of unearthly beauty. But I will

instantly go to the cave.”

 

Emily was about to urge him to make all possible haste, when he

shrieked out, and pointed to her breast; and there her boy was

gradually raising up his head, like a serpent, to her face, whilst

his eyes gleamed with the most fiendish __EXPRESSION__, and his mouth

was grinning and distended. For a moment she was silent as the

dead, and gazed in horror; but she could not trace a touch of

kindness on the young features. All love and beauty, in a moment,

had been dashed from them. The boy’s eye never moved from hers, or

changed its emotion;--it was slowly meeting hers, in malice. His

breath was now close to her cheek!

 

“Kiss me, kiss me,” were the first words he uttered; but the tones

were unknown, and seemed those of a young fiend. With a loud

shriek he prepared to dart upon her face. She started from her

seat, and threw him on the floor, and there the little monster

rolled--gnashing his teeth, and tearing with his hands, in frantic

fury. His eyes were of a glassy brightness, and coldness; and foam

was on his little black lips. His struggles soon became fainter,

and he lay motionless, and apparently lifeless. He then regained

his own beauty, but was pale and trembling, as if from an infant

dream of evil. His eyes were raised to his mother, and again they were affectionate, as of old.