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.