“Ha! this accounts for her presence here,” muttered Mistress Nutter.  “But it could not be better.  She is in no mood to offer resistance.  Dorothy, thou shalt be a witch.”

“A witch!” exclaimed the bewildered maiden.  “Is Alizon a witch?”

“We are all witches here,” replied Mistress Nutter.

Alizon had no power to contradict her.

“A merry company!” exclaimed Dorothy, laughing loudly.

“You will say so anon,” replied Mistress Nutter, waving her hand over her, and muttering a spell; “but you see them not in their true forms, Dorothy.  Look again—­what do you behold now?”

“In place of a troop of old wrinkled crones in wretched habiliments,” replied Dorothy, “I behold a band of lovely nymphs in light gauzy attire, wreathed with flowers, and holding myrtle and olive branches in their hands.  See they rise, and prepare for the dance.  Strains of ravishing music salute the ear.  I never heard sounds so sweet and stirring.  The round is formed.  The dance begins.  How gracefully—­how lightly they move—­ha! ha!”

Alizon could not check her—­could not undeceive her—­for power of speech as of movement was denied her, but she comprehended the strange delusion under which the poor girl laboured.  The figures Dorothy described as young and lovely, were still to her the same loathsome and abhorrent witches; the ravishing music jarred discordantly on her ear, as if produced by a shrill cornemuse; and the lightsome dance was a fantastic round, performed with shouts and laughter by the whole unhallowed crew.

Jennet laughed immoderately, and seemed delighted by the antics of the troop.

“Ey never wished to dance efore,” she cried, “boh ey should like to try now.”

“Join them, then,” said Mistress Nutter.

And to the little girl’s infinite delight a place was made for her in the round, and, taking hands with Mother Mould-heels and the red-haired witch, she footed it as merrily as the rest.

“Who is she in the nunlike habit?” inquired Dorothy, pointing to the shade of Isole de Heton, which still hovered near the weird assemblage.  “She seems more beautiful than all the others.  Will she not dance with me?”

“Heed her not,” said Mistress Nutter.

Dorothy, however, would not be gainsaid, but, spite of the caution, beckoned the figure towards her.  It came at once, and in another instant its arms were enlaced around her.  The same frenzy that had seized Nicholas now took possession of Dorothy, and her dance with Isole might have come to a similar conclusion, if it had not been abruptly checked by Mistress Nutter, who, waving her hand, and pronouncing a spell, the figure instantly quitted Dorothy, and, with a wild shriek, fled.

“How like you these diversions?” said Mistress Nutter to the panting and almost breathless maiden.

“Marvellously,” replied Dorothy; “but why have you scared my partner away?”