The heavy rain, which began to fall as Roger Nowell entered Rough Lee,
had now ceased, and the sun shone forth again brilliantly, making the
garden look so fresh and beautiful that Richard proposed a stroll within
it to Alizon. The young girl seemed doubtful at first whether to comply
with the invitation; but she finally assented, and they went forth
together alone, for Nicholas, fancying they could dispense with his
company, only attended them as far as the door, where he remained
looking after them, laughing to himself, and wondering how matters would
end. "No good will come of it, I fear," mused the worthy squire, shaking
his head, "and I am scarcely doing right in allowing Dick to entangle
himself in this fashion. But where is the use of giving advice to a
young man who is over head and ears in love? He will never listen to it,
and will only resent interference. Dick must take his chance. I have
already pointed out the danger to him, and if he chooses to run
headlong into the pit, why, I cannot hinder him. After all, I am not
much surprised. Alizon's beauty is quite irresistible, and, were all
smooth and straightforward in her history, there could be no reason
why--pshaw! I am as foolish as the lad himself. Sir Richard Assheton,
the proudest man in the shire, would disown his son if he married
against his inclinations. No, my pretty youthful pair, since nothing but
misery awaits you, I advise you to make the most of your brief season of
happiness. I should certainly do so were the case my own."
Meanwhile, the objects of these ruminations had reached the terrace
overlooking Pendle Water, and were pacing slowly backwards and forwards
along it.
"One might be very happy in this sequestered spot, Alizon," observed
Richard. "To some persons it might appear dull, but to me, if blessed
with you, it would be little short of Paradise."
"Alas! Richard," she replied, forcing a smile, "why conjure up visions
of happiness which never can be realised? But even with you I do not
think I could be happy here. There is something about the house which,
when I first beheld it, filled me with unaccountable terror. Never since
I was a mere infant have I been within it till to-day, and yet it was
quite familiar to me--horribly familiar. I knew the hall in which we
stood together, with its huge arched fireplace, and the armorial
bearings upon it, and could point out the stone on which were carved my
father's initials 'R.N.,' with the date '1572.' I knew the tapestry on
the walls, and the painted glass in the long range windows. I knew the
old oak staircase, and the gallery beyond it, and the room to which my
mother led me. I knew the portraits painted on the panels, and at once
recognised my father. I knew the great carved oak bedstead in this room,
and the high chimney-piece, and the raised hearthstone, and shuddered as
I gazed at it. You will ask me how these things could be familiar to me?
I will tell you. I had seen them repeatedly in my dreams. They have
haunted me for years, but I only to-day knew they had an actual
existence, or were in any way connected with my own history. The sight
of that house inspired me with a horror I have not been able to
overcome; and I have a presentiment that some ill will befall me within
it. I would never willingly dwell there."
"The warning voice within you, which should never be despised, prompts
you to quit it," cried Richard; "and I also urge you in like manner."
"In vain," sighed Alizon. "This terrace is beautiful," she added, as
they resumed their walk, "and I shall often come hither, if I am
permitted. At sunset, this river, and the woody heights above it, must
be enchanting; and I do not dislike the savage character of the
surrounding scenery. It enhances, by contrast, the beauty of this
solitude. I only wish the spot commanded a view of Pendle Hill."
"You are like my cousin Nicholas, who thinks no prospect complete
unless that hill forms part of it," said Richard; "but since I find that
you will often come hither at sunset, I shall not despair of seeing and
conversing with you again, even if I am forbidden the house by Mistress
Nutter. That thicket is an excellent hiding-place, and this stream is
easily crossed."
"We can have no secret interviews, Richard," replied Alizon; "I shall
come hither to think of you, but not to meet you. You must never return
to Rough Lee again--that is, not unless some change takes place, which I
dare not anticipate--but, hist! I am called. I must go back to the
house."
"The voice came from the other side of the river," said Richard--"and,
hark! it calls again. Who can it be?"
"It is Jennet," replied Alizon; "I see her now."
And she pointed out the little girl standing beside an alder on the
opposite bank.
"Yo didna notice me efore, Alizon," cried Jennet in her sharp tone, and
with her customary provoking laugh, "boh ey seed yo plain enuff, an
heer'd yo too; and ey heer'd Mester Ruchot say he wad hide i' this
thicket, an cross the river to meet ye at sunset. Little pigs, they say,
ha' lang ears, an mine werena gi'en me fo' nowt."
"They have somewhat misinformed you in this instance," replied Alizon;
"but how, in the name of wonder, did you come here?"
"Varry easily," replied Jennet, "boh ey hanna time to tell ye now.
Granny Demdike has sent me hither wi' a message to ye and Mistress
Nutter. Boh may be ye winna loike Mester Ruchot to hear what ey ha'
getten to tell ye."
"I will leave you," said Richard, about to depart.
"Oh! no, no!" cried Alizon, "she can have nothing to say which you may
not hear."
"Shan ey go back to Granny Demdike, an tell her yo're too proud to
receive her message?" asked the child.
"On no account," whispered Richard. "Do not let her anger the old hag."
"Speak, Jennet," said Alizon, in a tone of kind persuasion.
"Ey shanna speak onless ye cum ower t' wetur to me," replied the little
girl; "an whot ey ha to tell consarns ye mitch."
"I can easily cross," observed Alizon to Richard. "Those stones seem
placed on purpose."
Upon this, descending from the terrace to the river's brink, and
springing lightly upon the first stone which reared its head above the
foaming tide, she bounded to another, and so in an instant was across
the stream. Richard saw her ascend the opposite bank, and approach
Jennet, who withdrew behind the alder; and then he fancied he perceived
an old beldame, partly concealed by the intervening branches of the
tree, advance and seize hold of her. Then there was a scream; and the
sound had scarcely reached the young man's ears before he was down the
bank and across the river, but when he reached the alder, neither
Alizon, nor Jennet, nor the old beldame were to be seen.
The terrible conviction that she had been carried off by Mother Demdike
then smote him, and though he continued his search for her among the
adjoining bushes, it was with fearful misgivings. No answer was returned
to his shouts, nor could he discover any trace of the means by which
Alizon had been spirited away.
After some time spent in ineffectual search, uncertain what course to
pursue, and with a heart full of despair, Richard crossed the river, and
proceeded towards the house, in front of which he found Mistress Nutter
and Nicholas, both of whom seemed surprised when they perceived he was
unaccompanied by Alizon. The lady immediately, and somewhat sharply,
questioned him as to what had become of her adopted daughter, and
appeared at first to doubt his answer; but at length, unable to question
his sincerity, she became violently agitated.
"The poor girl has been conveyed away by Mother Demdike," she cried,
"though for what purpose I am at a loss to conceive. The old hag could
not cross the running water, and therefore resorted to that stratagem."
"Alizon must not be left in her hands, madam," said Richard.
"She must not," replied the lady. "If Blackadder, whom I have sent after
Parson Holden, were here, I would despatch him instantly to Malkin
Tower."
"I will go instead," said Richard.
"You had better accept his offer," interposed Nicholas; "he will serve
you as well as Blackadder."
"Go I shall, madam," cried Richard; "if not on your account, on my own."
"Come, then, with me," said the lady, entering the house, "and I will
furnish you with that which shall be your safeguard in the enterprise."
With this, she proceeded to the closet where her interview with Roger
Nowell had been held; and, unlocking an ebony cabinet, took from a
drawer within it a small flat piece of gold, graven with mystic
characters, and having a slender chain of the same metal attached to it.
Throwing the chain over Richard's neck, she said, "Place this talisman,
which is of sovereign virtue, near your heart, and no witchcraft shall
have power over you. But be careful that you are not by any artifice
deprived of it, for the old hag will soon discover that you possess some
charm to protect you against her spells. You are impatient to be gone,
but I have not yet done," she continued, taking down a small silver
bugle from a hook, and giving it him. "On reaching Malkin Tower, wind
this horn thrice, and the old witch will appear at the upper window.
Demand admittance in my name, and she will not dare to refuse you; or,
if she does, tell her you know the secret entrance to her stronghold,
and will have recourse to it. And in case this should be needful, I will
now disclose it to you, but you must not use it till other means fail.
When opposite the door, which you will find is high up in the building,
take ten paces to the left, and if you examine the masonry at the foot
of the tower, you will perceive one stone somewhat darker than the rest.
At the bottom of this stone, and concealed by a patch of heath, you will
discover a knob of iron. Touch it, and it will give you an opening to a
vaulted chamber, whence you can mount to the upper room. Even then you
may experience some difficulty, but with resolution you will surmount
all obstacles."
"I have no fear of success, madam," replied Richard, confidently.
And quitting her, he proceeded to the stables, and calling for his
horse, vaulted into the saddle, and galloped off towards the bridge.
Fast as Richard rode up the steep hill-side, still faster did the black
clouds gather over his head. No natural cause could have produced so
instantaneous a change in the aspect of the sky, and the young man
viewed it with uneasiness, and wished to get out of the thicket in which
he was now involved, before the threatened thunder-storm commenced. But
the hill was steep and the road bad, being full of loose stones, and
crossed in many places by bare roots of trees. Though ordinarily
surefooted, Merlin stumbled frequently, and Richard was obliged to
slacken his pace. It grew darker and darker, and the storm seemed ready
to burst upon him. The smaller birds ceased singing, and screened
themselves under the thickest foliage; the pie chattered incessantly;
the jay screamed; the bittern flew past, booming heavily in the air; the
raven croaked; the heron arose from the river, and speeded off with his
long neck stretched out; and the falcon, who had been hovering over him,
sweeped sidelong down and sought shelter beneath an impending rock; the
rabbit scudded off to his burrow in the brake; and the hare, erecting
himself for a moment, as if to listen to the note of danger, crept
timorously off into the long dry grass.
It grew so dark at last that the road was difficult to discern, and the
dense rows of trees on either side assumed a fantastic appearance in the
deep gloom. Richard was now more than half-way up the hill, and the
thicket had become more tangled and intricate, and the road narrower and
more rugged. All at once Merlin stopped, quivering in every limb, as if
in extremity of terror.
Before the rider, and right in his path, glared a pair of red fiery
orbs, with something dusky and obscure linked to them; but whether of
man or beast he could not distinguish.
Richard called to it. No answer. He struck spurs into the reeking flanks
of his horse. The animal refused to stir. Just then there was a moaning
sound in the wood, as of some one in pain. He turned in the direction,
shouted, but received no answer. When he looked back the red eyes were
gone.
Then Merlin moved forward of his own accord, but ere he had gone far,
the eyes were visible again, glaring at the rider from the wood. This
time they approached, dilating, and increasing in glowing intensity,
till they scorched him like burning-glasses. Bethinking him of the
talisman, Richard drew it forth. The light was instantly extinguished,
and the indistinct figure accompanying it melted into darkness.
Once more Merlin resumed his toilsome way, and Richard was marvelling
that the storm so long suspended its fury, when the sky was riven by a
sudden blaze, and a crackling bolt shot down and struck the earth at his
feet. The affrighted steed reared aloft, and was with difficulty
prevented from falling backwards upon his rider. Almost before he could
be brought to his feet, an awful peal of thunder burst overhead, and it
required Richard's utmost efforts to prevent him from rushing madly down
the hill.
The storm had now fairly commenced. Flash followed flash, and peal
succeeded peal, without intermission. The rain descended hissing and
spouting, and presently ran down the hill in a torrent, adding to the
horseman's other difficulties and dangers. To heighten the terror of the
scene, strange shapes, revealed by the lightning, were seen flitting
among the trees, and strange sounds were heard, though overpowered by
the dreadful rolling of the thunder.
But Richard's resolution continued unshaken, and he forced Merlin on. He
had not proceeded far, however, when the animal uttered a cry of fright,
and began beating the air with his fore hoofs. The lightning enabled
Richard to discern the cause of this new distress. Coiled round the poor
beast's legs, all whose efforts to disengage himself from the terrible
assailant were ineffectual, was a large black snake, seemingly about to
plunge its poisonous fangs into the flesh. Again having recourse to the
talisman, and bending down, Richard stretched it towards the snake, upon
which the reptile instantly darted its arrow-shaped head against him,
but instead of wounding him, its forked teeth encountered the piece of
gold, and, as if stricken a violent blow, it swiftly untwined itself,
and fled, hissing, into the thicket.
Richard was now obliged to dismount and lead his horse. In this way he
toiled slowly up the hill. The storm continued with unabated fury: the
red lightning played around him, the brattling thunder stunned him, and
the pelting rain poured down upon his head. But he was no more
molested. Save for the vivid flashes, it had become dark as night, but
they served to guide him on his way.
At length he got out of the thicket, and trod upon the turf, but it was
rendered so slippery by moisture, that he could scarcely keep his feet,
while the lightning no longer aided him. Fearing he had taken a wrong
course, he stood still, and while debating with himself a blaze of light
illumined the wide heath, and showed him the object of his search,
Malkin Tower, standing alone, like a beacon, at about a quarter of a
mile's distance, on the further side of the hill. Was it disturbed
fancy, or did he really behold on the summit of the structure a grisly
shape resembling--if it resembled any thing human--a gigantic black cat,
with roughened staring skin, and flaming eyeballs?
Nerved by the sight of the tower, Richard was on his steed's back in an
instant, and the animal, having in some degree recovered his spirits,
galloped off with him, and kept his feet in spite of the slippery state
of the road. Erelong, another flash showed the young man that he was
drawing rapidly near the tower, and dismounting, he tied Merlin to a
tree, and hurried towards the unhallowed pile. When within twenty paces
of it, mindful of Mistress Nutter's injunctions, he placed the bugle to
his lips, and winded it thrice. The summons, though clear and loud,
sounded strangely in the portentous silence.
Scarcely had the last notes died away, when a light shone through the
dark red curtains hanging before a casement in the upper part of the
tower. The next moment these were drawn aside, and a face appeared, so
frightful, so charged with infernal wickedness and malice, that
Richard's blood grew chill at the sight. Was it man or woman? The white
beard, and the large, broad, masculine character of the countenance,
seemed to denote the, former, but the garb was that of a female. The
face was at once hideous and fantastic--the eyes set across--the mouth
awry--the right cheek marked by a mole shining with black hair, and
horrible from its contrast to the rest of the visage, and the brow
branded as if by a streak of blood. A black thrum cap constituted the
old witch's head-gear, and from beneath it her hoary hair escaped in
long elf-locks. The lower part of her person was hidden from view, but
she appeared to be as broad-shouldered as a man, and her bulky person
was wrapped in a tawny-coloured robe. Throwing open the window, she
looked forth, and demanded in harsh imperious tones--
"Who dares to summon Mother Demdike?"
"A messenger from Mistress Nutter," replied Richard. "I am come in her
name to demand the restitution of Alizon Device, whom thou hast forcibly
and wrongfully taken from her."
"Alizon Device is my grand-daughter, and, as such, belongs to me, and
not to Mistress Nutter," rejoined Mother Demdike.
"Thou knowest thou speakest false, foul hag!" cried Richard. "Alizon is
no blood of thine. Open the door and cast down the ladder, or I will
find other means of entrance."
"Try them, then," rejoined Mother Demdike. And she closed the casement
sharply, and drew the curtains over it.
After reconnoitring the building for a moment, Richard moved quickly to
the left, and counting ten paces, as directed by Mistress Nutter, began
to search among the thick grass growing near the base of the tower for
the concealed entrance. It was too dark to distinguish any difference in
the colour of the masonry, but he was sure he could not be far wrong,
and presently his hand came in contact with a knob of iron. He pressed
it, but it did not yield to the touch. Again more forcibly, but with
like ill success. Could he be mistaken? He tried the next stone, and
discovered another knob upon it, but this was as immovable as the first.
He went on, and then found that each stone was alike, and that if
amongst the number he had chanced upon the one worked by the secret
spring, it had refused to act. On examining the structure so far as he
was able to do in the gloom, he found he had described the whole circle
of the tower, and was about to commence the search anew, when a creaking
sound was heard above, and a light streamed suddenly down upon him. The
door had been opened by the old witch, and she stood there with a lamp
in her hand, its yellow flame illumining her hideous visage, and short,
square, powerfully built frame. Her throat was like that of a bull; her
hands of extraordinary size; and her arms, which were bare to the
shoulder, brawny and muscular.
"What, still outside?" she cried in a jeering tone, and with a wild
discordant laugh. "Methought thou affirmedst thou couldst find a way
into my dwelling."
"I do not yet despair of finding it," replied Richard.
"Fool!" screamed the hag. "I tell thee it is in vain to attempt it
without my consent. With a word, I could make these walls one solid
mass, without window or outlet from base to summit. With a word, I could
shower stones upon thy head, and crush thee to dust. With a word, I
could make the earth swallow thee up. With a word, I could whisk thee
hence to the top of Pendle Hill. Ha! ha! Dost fear me now?"
"No," replied Richard, undauntedly. "And the word thou menacest me with
shall never be uttered."
"Why not?" asked Mother Demdike, derisively.
"Because thou wouldst not brave the resentment of one whose power is
equal to thine own--if not greater," replied the young man.
"Greater it is not--neither equal," rejoined the old hag, haughtily;
"but I do not desire a quarrel with Alice Nutter. Only let her not
meddle with me."
"Once more, art thou willing to admit me?" demanded Richard.
"Ay, upon one condition," replied Mother Demdike. "Thou shalt learn it
anon. Stand aside while I let down the ladder."
Richard obeyed, and a pair of narrow wooden steps dropped to the ground.
"Now mount, if thou hast the courage," cried the hag.
The young man was instantly beside her, but she stood in the doorway,
and barred his further progress with her extended staff. Now that he was
face to face with her, he wondered at his own temerity. There was
nothing human in her countenance, and infernal light gleamed in her
strangely-set eyes. Her personal strength, evidently unimpaired by age,
or preserved by magical art, seemed equal to her malice; and she
appeared as capable of executing any atrocity, as of conceiving it. She
saw the effect produced upon him, and chuckled with malicious
satisfaction.
"Saw'st thou ever face like mine?" she cried. "No, I wot not. But I
would rather inspire aversion and terror than love. Love!--foh! I would
rather see men shrink from me, and shudder at my approach, than smile
upon me and court me. I would rather freeze the blood in their veins,
than set it boiling with passion. Ho! ho!"
"Thou art a fearful being, indeed!" exclaimed Richard, appalled.
"Fearful, am I?" ejaculated the old witch, with renewed laughter. "At
last thou own'st it. Why, ay, I _am_ fearful. It is my wish to be so. I
live to plague mankind--to blight and blast them--to scare them with my
looks--to work them mischief. Ho! ho! And now, let us look at thee," she
continued, holding the lamp over him. "Why, soh?--a comely youth! And
the young maids doat upon thee, I doubt not, and praise thy blooming
cheeks, thy bright eyes, thy flowing locks, and thy fine limbs. I hate
thy beauty, boy, and would mar it!--would canker thy wholesome flesh,
dim thy lustrous eyes, and strike thy vigorous limbs with palsy, till
they should shake like mine! I am half-minded to do it," she added,
raising her staff, and glaring at him with inconceivable malignity.
"Hold!" exclaimed Richard, taking the talisman from his breast, and
displaying it to her. "I am armed against thy malice!"
Mother Demdike's staff fell from her grasp.
"I knew thou wert in some way protected," she cried furiously. "And so
it is a piece of gold--with magic characters upon it, eh?" she added,
suddenly changing her tone; "Let me look at it."
"Thou seest it plain enough," rejoined Richard. "Now, stand aside and
let me pass, for thou perceivest I have power to force an entrance."
"I see it--I see it," replied Mother Demdike, with affected humility. "I
see it is in vain to struggle with thee, or rather with the potent lady
who sent thee. Tarry where thou art, and i will bring Alizon to thee."
"I almost mistrust thee," said Richard--"but be speedy."
"I will be scarce a moment," said the witch; "but I must warn thee that
she is--"
"What--what hast thou done to her, thou wicked hag?" cried Richard, in
alarm.
"She is distraught," said Mother Demdike.
"Distraught!" echoed Richard.
"But thou canst easily cure her," said the old hag, significantly.
"Ay, so I can," cried Richard with sudden joy--"the talisman! Bring her
to me at once."
Mother Demdike departed, leaving him in a state of indescribable
agitation. The walls of the tower were of immense thickness, and the
entrance to the chamber towards which the arched doorway led was covered
by a curtain of old arras, behind which the hag had disappeared.
Scarcely had she entered the room when a scream was heard, and Richard
heard his own name pronounced by a voice which, in spite of its agonised
tones, he at once recognised. The cries were repeated, and he then heard
Mother Demdike call out, "Come hither! come hither!"
Instantly rushing forward and dashing aside the tapestry, he found
himself in a mysterious-looking circular chamber, with a massive oak
table in the midst of it. There were many strange objects in the room,
but he saw only Alizon, who was struggling with the old witch, and
clinging desperately to the table. He called to her by name as he
advanced, but her bewildered looks proved that she did not know him.
"Alizon--dear Alizon! I am come to free you," he exclaimed.
But in place of answering him she uttered a piercing scream.
"The talisman, the talisman?" cried the hag. "I cannot undo my own work.
Place the chain round her neck, and the gold near her heart, that she
may experience its full virtue."
Richard unsuspectingly complied with the suggestion of the temptress;
but the moment he had parted with the piece of gold the figure of Alizon
vanished, the chamber was buried in gloom, and, amidst a hubbub of wild
laughter, he was dragged by the powerful arm of the witch through the
arched doorway, and flung from it to the ground, the shock of the fall
producing immediate insensibility.