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In memory she saw again the dark cavern of the Wizard, remembered its cruel master, and the evil spell by which he had endeavored to destroy her Prince; and for a brief space she forgot the sore trouble of the Shadow Witch, helpless and in that Wizard’s power.
Creeping Shadow swore to obey what she had been told, and her mistress, gathering her trailing robes over her arm, took her way to the Wizard’s Cave. Gloomy and forbidding was the Cave of Darkness. Its outer walls rose high and cliff-like from the great Plain of Ash, and a yawning opening led off to its dark corridors and many dusky chambers.
The little luncheon party was composed of fervent admirers of Sir Walter Scott—bigoted admirers, I fear, some of our present-day critics would have dubbed us; and it chanced that we all agreed in pronouncing ‘Guy Mannering’ to be the most fascinating of all the Wizard’s work. Of course Meg Merrilies became at once the centre of the talk.
“In order that you may succeed in this undertaking,” continued his adviser, “you must be able to reach the prison of the Shadow Witch unseen. You know, as well as I, that among the good fairies of the Fire, only the Ember Fairies have power to become entirely invisible. Within the Wizard’s Cave your own magic will serve to make you so, but in the Plain outside you must have the Cloak of Ash.”
The Shadow Witch asked him no further questions, but stood silent, pondering deeply whether or no she should grant the Wizard’s request. She herself had seen him overcome by the fairy sword, had seen the prince depart in safety, but that her brother trusted to any magic of her own to restore him, she greatly doubted.
In this place, as you well know, you can do naught against me.” The Wizard’s eyes flashed fire. He made a step forward with hands outstretched to seize her. “Do not boast too soon,” retorted he. “I have yet a spell to conquer you even here.” Although the Shadow Witch held her head high in defiance of him, she retreated a few paces.
That which so moved the heart of the Prince to compassion, awoke only malicious delight in the Wizard’s breast. “Ah, my sister,” he said mockingly, drawing near to her, “I find you less confident today than when we last met. Hope fades I see.” His voice aroused her.
During the time, therefore, that the Imps had been keeping guard at the entrance to the Wizard’s cavern, the Breezes, on their part, had been industriously looking across the Plain from the Chimney Mouth, but with no better fortune in the one case than in the other.
So vigilant was he that he was sure that none could possibly have approached the Wizard’s Cave without being seen by him from his hiding-place. Nevertheless, hour had dragged slowly after hour, and still the one for whom he waited did not appear. The giant’s eyeballs ached, and grew dim at length from his steadfast watching.
Here in this deepest part of the Wizard’s Cave, surrounded by his servants, and distant from her own, what would become of her if her magic failed before his? She knew that it would be folly to stay and test it. She determined to escape while there was yet time. With a rush she attempted to dart past him, but in vain.
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