“And will I see him then?” whispered Mary eagerly, drawing near to him.
“Aye,” returned Souter hoarsely. “Look over your left shoulder an’ ye’ll see your future husband pullin’ hemp. Noo, off wi’ ye; ye’ll find some seed in the barn.” Mary tried to summon up her courage, for she was highly superstitious, like all the peasantry, and was anxious to test the potency of the charm, and finally succeeded in taking a few faltering footsteps in the direction of the barn, when suddenly the door behind them opened, and Molly Dunn appeared in the doorway. She held in one hand a lighted candle, while in the other she carried a broken piece of looking-glass, into which she was gazing intently, her eyes fixed and staring. Behind her, crowding through the doorway, followed the now noiseless revelers, who were stifling their laughter to breathlessly watch the outcome of the well-known charm, whose power Molly had decided to put to a test, though believing staunchly in its potency. Molly majestically walked down the steps and across to the well, where, depositing her mirror on the curbing, she took from the pocket of her skirt a round, red apple, from which she bit a goodly piece and began vigorously to chew upon it, the while holding her candle above her head and anxiously watching her reflection in the mirror.
“Molly’s eatin’ the apple at the glass,” chuckled Souter to Mary softly. “She’s lookin’ for the face o’ her future husband. Let’s hae some fun wi’ her.” He motioned to them all to keep silent, and stealing softly over to the unconscious Molly, intoned in a deep sepulchral voice, “Molly Dunn, if ye would see your future husband, dinna’ ye dare turn your head this way.”
Molly gave a shriek of terror, thereby choking herself with the piece of apple she was industriously eating, and falling on her knees, her teeth chattering in fear, she cried frantically, “The witches! the witches!”
“Nay, I’m the Deil himsel’,” answered Souter in awe-inspiring accents. Molly groaned aloud, in mortal terror, not daring to turn around. “An’ I’ve come for ye, Molly Dunn,” slowly continued her tormentor.
“Nay, nay!” cried Molly, her eyes staring wildly in front of her. “I want naught to do wi’ ye; gang awa’, gang awa’!” and she wildly waved her hands behind her.
“Not till ye’ve seen the face o’ the man ye’ll wed,” replied the voice. “Beauteous fairy of Hallowe’en, come forth,” he commanded majestically, beckoning to Mary to come nearer. She did so. “Speak, kind fairy.” He whispered to her what to say to the awestruck Molly.
Thus admonished, Mary, who was once more her old light-hearted winsome self, raised her sweet voice and spoke in a high falsetto, “Gaze in the looking-glass, Molly Dunn; eat o’ the apple, think o’ the one ye desire to see, an’ his face will appear beside yours.”
“Behold, I pass the magic wand o’er your head, ye faithless woman,” added Souter threateningly.
Hurriedly Molly complied with the injunctions, and patiently she knelt there, apple in hand, the candle light glaring full on her eager, ugly face, and the wisp of faded hair tied tightly on top of her head, which was waving wildly about, while she waited for the face to appear beside her own reflection in the glass.