Wenna had heard the creaking of the stairs. Wenna slept lightly.
Someone was creeping about the house, she decided.
Wenna had her own ideas. She thought she knew. Wouldn't it be just like him? She reckoned that the wicked Mamazel, the daughter of Babylon, was creeping up to his room. She pictured the terrible deeds they would perform.
What if she caught them together? That wouldn't do though. It would only bring sorrow to Miss Caroline. No! But she could go to the master with her tales.
She went to the door of her room. She slept in the room next to Caroline's.
Pray God, Miss Caroline don't wake, the poor lamb! she thought,
She waited. There was no sound now. Had she been mistaken? Had she been dreaming? But she would keep a sharp look out, she would. One little slip and she'd be off to the master. He couldn't keep a harlot in his house . . . not one who was going to rob his legitimate daughter of a husband. But perhaps he was shameful enough for that! Hadn't he brought that woman's daughter into the house to live alongside Miss Caroline?
She went back to her room, but as she was about to get into her bed she heard a sound from without. So, they were meeting out of doors. Why hadn't she thought of that!
She was at her window. The lawn was bright with moonlight. She listened. Yes. Surely footsteps. If only she were down there! But they were keeping close to the house. Where were they off to to do their wickedness ? On the sweet pure grass! Let them catch their deaths and die.
Now she saw them—two figures; one was Mamazel, the other was short and squat. Peg!
And what were they doing, and where were they going? They were making their way towards the woods.
Suddenly she knew, and the thought filled her with misgiving.
She knew why girls went out in pairs round about midnight. She knew why they made their way to the hut in the woods.
She sat at the window, waiting.
Melisande shuddered as they stepped into the hut. It was dimly lighted by a lamp which hung from the ceiling and smelt strongly of the oil. A fire was burning in a hollow in one corner of the hut. Two black cats lay stretched on the earthen floor. One rose and arched his back at the sight of the visitors; the other lay still, watching them with alert green eyes.
"Be still, Samuel," said a gentle voice. " 'Tis only two young ladies come to see us."
The black cat settled down on the floor and watched them.
On a table several objects lay in some disorder. There were pieces of wax, wooden hearts and bottles of red liquid which had the appearance of blood. There were charms made of wood and metal, a chart of the sky and a great crystal globe.
About the clay walls herbs were hung. There was a wooden beam across the ceiling of the hut and from this hung dark objects in various stages of decomposition. Two live toads were near the fire; a pot was simmering there; the steam which rose from it smelt of earth and decaying vegetables.
Tamson Trequint had risen. She was a very old woman whose untidy grey hair fell about her shoulders; her skin was burned brown by the sun and wind and she was very thin. Her eyes were black and brilliant and her heavy lids suggested an eagle.
"Come in. Come in. Don't 'ee be scared," she said. "Samuel won't hurt 'ee. Nor will Joshua. What have you brought me?"
Peg was too frightened to speak. Melisande forced herself to say: "We have brought roast fowl for you."
"So you be the pretty foreign one. Come here, my dear, that I may look at 'ee. You b'ain't frightened, be you? 'Tis the same with all these servant girls. They want my charms; they want their plough-boys and their fishermen. But they'm scared of coming to me
to ask my help. What do you want, my dear? Speak up. You don't altogether believe in our ways, do 'ee? But you've come all the same."
"Is it true that you can give charms and potions to make people love," asked Melisande. "Can you make people love those it is good for them to love . . . even though they do not do so?"
"I can give a charm as will put a bloom on a young girl, my dear. I can smear her with jam like ... so that the wasps come a-buzzing round. Are there witches where you do come from? Are there black witches like some . . . and white witches like old Tammy Trequint?"
"I do not know of them. I lived in a convent . . . away from such things."
"I understand 'ee, my dear. You be like a bird as is let free. Mind someone don't catch 'ee and clip your pretty wings. Why do you come here?"
"I want a charm ... a spell ... a potion ... if you will be so good as to give me one."
"You want a lover. You should be fair enough without a charm."
Melisande looked into the hooded eyes and saw that they were kindly for all their strangeness. She said quickly: "I am afraid of. . . someone. I wish his attentions to be turned from me. I wish them to go . . . where they belong. Could that be done?"
" 'Tis a love token in reverse, so to speak."
"Can you give me such a one?"
" 'Twill not be easy. There's some who might come and ask such a thing and I'd know it would be no more than breaking a couple of twigs. But 'tis not so with you, my dear. We'll see. What does the other maiden want?"
Peg came forward. Her wants were simple. She wanted a love token to catch the young fisherman whom, try as she might, she could not catch without.
"Let me see what you've brought." She unwrapped the parcel of food. She sniffed it. " 'Tis good," she said. "Mrs. Soady have sent you and Mrs. Soady's my good friend."
She put the food on the table and, picking up a piece of wax, with expert fingers, she forced it into a metal mould. This she put on the fire.
She said to Peg: "Think of his face, my dear. Think of him. Conjure him up. He's there behind you ... a bonny boy. Close your eyes and say his name. Can you see him?" Peg nodded. The mould was drawn from the fire and left to cool.
"Sit you on that stool, my dear. Keep your eyes closed and don't for a minute stop thinking of him. When he's cooled down you shall have him. Just sit 'ee still now."
Peg obeyed.
"Now you, my dear. 'Tis not the same for you. 'Tis a double spell you need. Now first we must turn his affection from you like. I've got an onion here and I want you to pierce it with these pins. In the old days we'd use nothing but a sheep's or bullock's heart. But onions serve, and they be easy to come by. Now, my dear, take these pins and as you stick them in the onion you must conjure up his image. You must see him standing close behind you."
"This will not bring a misfortune to him?" asked Melisande anxiously. "There is no harm for him in this?"
Tamson laughed suddenly. "What be harm? Harm to one be good to another. If he do love you truly he might be happy with you. If he's to love this other, he might find sorrow there. Then that would be harm. So whether harm or good will come of this, I can't tell 'ee. I be a witch but a white witch. And I'll tell 'ee this, because I've took a fancy to 'ee: meddling with fate ain't always a good thing. 'Tis writ in the stars what shall be. Fate's Fate and there's no altering that; and when people come to me for spells they're after altering it. 'Tis devils' work to alter Fate. You got to call in magic. 'Tis more like to be harm that way than good."