68 



RELICS OF POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS. 



ed the churcli, and saw the blank left on his family monumental 

 tablet filled up with his beloved daughter's name. He was struck 

 with horror at this trace of the visionary sexton's visit, and deter- 

 mined to remove his Margaret to the healthy and pleasant valley 

 of Dent, beyond the reach of those baleful rumours which the oc- 

 currence might create. He proposed the journey, but either the 

 visions of old Ozias or the force of destiny had reached har. She 

 lost even the faint bloom that had mingled with the pearl colour 

 of her cheeks, and the spirit and strength of her frame departed. 

 She told beautiful dreams, and seemed to have peopled every 

 place in her imagination with lovely and benevolent spirits. But 

 the most remarkable particular was, that many of these affecting 

 dreams were realized. She would sometimes pause in the woods, 

 as if to listen, and assure her mother or her sister that some fairy 

 gift awaited her. Often, a few hours after, a basket of flowers, 

 or a knot of silver tissue, would be found in her apartment ; but 

 when her sister took either into her possession, the basket was al- 

 ways said to be filled with vervain, or St. John's wort, and the sil- 

 ver gauze twined round an adder-stone. These accidents were 

 carefully concealed from the incredulous father ; but the mother, 

 the sister, and the household servants found ample subject for con- 

 jecture in occurrences so nearly resembling fairy legends. And 

 the learned neighbours compared her to Alice Pearson and Annie 

 Jeffries, celebrated in 1586 and 1626 for visiting the "little green 

 people" when they seemed quietly in bed. Many tried to disen- 

 chant her by the touch of gulliflowers, whose power against sor- 

 cery is famous, or of those holy evergreens which protect us from 

 evil spirits at Christmas. Nurse Susan, who had returned unsus- 

 pected to her post in the family, almost believed the flowers were 

 fresher, and the wild birds more familiar, in Margaret's walks ; and 

 often hid her silver ring under the lovely dreamer's pillow, as if to 

 borrow some part of the mysterious sanctity which seemed to at- 

 tend her. 



On the third anniversary of St. Mark's eve, when Lambert be- 

 gan, as usual, his solitary journey to Bossmoor, his favourite 

 daughter's moodiness changed to melancholy. She sent for her 

 mother to her bedside, and solemnly enjoining secrecy, begged 

 that when her death occurred, she might be buried in the stone 

 coffin of Sir John Wardell, of Wharfdale, which lay in the vaults 

 of De Komeville. Being urged to explain the motive of this wish, 



