Whoever he might be, the following
horrible event, arising out of this superstition, attaches to his
memory. Whether it can be attributed to the operations of a mind just
bordering on insanity, and highly wrought upon by existing
delusions,--or must be classed amongst the proofs, so abundantly
furnished by all believers in the reality of witchcraft and demoniacal
possession, our readers must determine as we unfold the tale.
Lord William had seen, and had openly vowed to win, the proud maiden of
Bernshaw Tower. He did win her, but he did not woo her. A dark and
appalling secret was connected with their union, which we shall briefly
develop.
Lady Sibyl, "the proud maiden of Bernshaw," was from her youth the
creature of impulse and imagination--a child of nature and romance. She
roved unchecked through the green valleys and among the glens and
moorlands of her native hills; every nook and streamlet was associated
with some hidden thought "too deep for tears," until Nature became her
god,--the hills and fastnesses, the trackless wilds and mountains, her
companions. With them alone she held communion; and as she watched the
soft shadows and the white clouds take their quiet path upon the hills,
she beheld in them the symbols of her own ideas,--the images and
reflections,--the hidden world within her made visible.
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