English literature -- England -- Lancashire; Legends -- England -- Lancashire
A crowd of miserable and deluded beings came at the beck of their chief,
each accompanied by her familiar. But the lady of Bernshaw came alone.
Her act of renouncement had deprived her of this privilege.
The mandate having been proclaimed, and the preliminary rites to this
fearful act of reprobation performed, the assembly waited for the
concluding act--the cruel and appalling trial: one touch of his finger
was to pass upon her brow,--the impress, the mark of the beast,--the
sign that was to snatch her from the reach of mercy! Her spirit
shuddered;--nature shrank from the unholy contact. Once more she looked
towards that heaven she was about to forfeit,--and for ever!
"For ever!"--the words rang in her ears; their sound was like the knell
of her everlasting hope. She started aside, as though she felt a horrid
and scorching breath upon her cheek, as though she already felt their
unutterable import in the abysses of woe!
Conscience, long slumbering, seemed to awake; she was seized with the
anguish of despair! It seemed as though judgment were passed, and she
was doomed to wander like some rayless orb in the blackness of darkness
for ever. One fearful undefined form of terror was before her; one
consciousness of offence ever present; all idea of past and future
absorbed in one ever-during NOW, she felt that her misery was too heavy
to sustain. A groan escaped her lips, but it was an appeal to that power
for deliverance, who is not slow to hear, "nor impotent to save."
Suddenly she was roused from some deep and overpowering hallucination;
the promises of unlimited gratification to every wish prevailed no more,
the tempter's charm was broken. All was changed; the whole scene seemed
to vanish; and that form, which once appeared to her like an angel of
light, fell prostrate, writhing away in terrific and tortuous folds on
the hissing earth. The crowd scattered with a fearful yell;--she heard
a rush of wings, and a loud and dissonant scream,--and the "Bride of
Bernshaw" fell senseless to the ground.
We leave the conscience-stricken victim whilst we relate the result of
Robin's watch-night at the mill.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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