She said she would dance on his grave, and she did; I saw her do it in the moonlight the night after he was buried; dressed in white she danced on his grave! She always kept her promises, did Emlyn.

That's her blood.
If her mother had not been a gypsy witch, she wouldn't have married a Spaniard when every man in the place was after her for her beautiful eyes.

Emlyn is a witch too, or was, for they say she is dead; but I can't think it, she isn't the sort that dies.

Still, she must be dead, and that's good for my soul.

Oh! miserable man, what are you thinking?
Get behind me, Satan, if you can find room.