CHAPTER XVII.--HOW THE BEACON FIRE WAS EXTINGUISHED.

Soon after this, Nicholas Assheton, attended by two or three men, came

up, and asked whither the old witch had flown.

Mistress Nutter pointed out the course taken by the fugitive, who had

run towards the northern extremity of the hill, down the sides of which

he had already plunged.

"She has been carried off by her grandson, Jem Device," said Mistress

Nutter; "be quick, or you will lose her."

"Ay, be quick--be quick!" added Mother Chattox. "Yonder they went, to

the back of the beacon."

Casting a look at the wretched speaker, and finding she was too

grievously wounded to be able to move, Nicholas bestowed no further

thought upon her, but set off with his companions in the direction

pointed out. He speedily arrived at the edge of the hill, and, looking

down it, sought in vain for any appearance of the fugitives. The sides

were here steep and shelving, and some hundred yards lower down were

broken into ridges, behind one of which it was possible the old witch

and her grandson might be concealed; so, without a moment's hesitation,

the squire descended, and began to search about in the hollows,

scrambling over the loose stones, or sliding down for some paces with

the uncertain boggy soil, when he fancied he heard a plaintive cry. He

looked around, but could see no one. The whole side of the mountain was

lighted up by the fire from the beacon, which, instead of diminishing,

burnt with increased ardour, so that every object was as easily to be

discerned as in the day-time; but, notwithstanding this, he could not

detect whence the sound proceeded. It was repeated, but more faintly

than before, and Nicholas almost persuaded himself it was the voice of

Potts calling for help. Motioning to his followers, who were engaged in

the search like himself, to keep still, the squire listened intently,

and again caught the sound, being this time convinced it arose from the

ground. Was it possible the unfortunate attorney had been buried alive?

Or had he been thrust into some hole, and a stone placed over it, which

he found it impossible to remove? The latter idea seemed the more

probable, and Nicholas was guided by a feeble repetition of the noise

towards a large fragment of rock, which, on examination, had evidently

been rolled from a point immediately over the mouth of a hollow. The

squire instantly set himself to work to dislodge the ponderous stone,

and, aided by two of his men, who lent their broad shoulders to the

task, quickly accomplished his object, disclosing what appeared to be

the mouth of a cavernous recess. From out of this, as soon as the stone

was removed, popped the head of Master Potts, and Nicholas, bidding him

be of good cheer, laid hold of him to draw him forth, as he seemed to

have some difficulty in extricating himself, when the attorney cried

out--

"Do not pull so hard, squire! That accursed Jem Device has got hold of

my legs. Not so hard, sir, I entreat."

"Bid him let go," said Nicholas, unable to refrain from laughing, "or we

will unearth him from his badger's hole."

"He pays no heed to what I say to him," cried Potts. "Oh, dear! oh,

dear! he is dragging me down again!"

And, as he spoke, the attorney, notwithstanding all Nicholas's efforts

to restrain him, was pulled down into the hole. The squire was at a loss

what to do, and was considering whether he should resort to the tedious

process of digging him out, when a scrambling noise was heard, and the

captive's head once more appeared above ground.

"Are you coming out now?" asked Nicholas.

"Alas, no!" replied the attorney, "unless you will make terms with the

rascal. He declares he will strangle me, if you do not promise to set

him and his grandmother free."

"Is Mother Demdike with him?" asked Nicholas.

"To be sure," replied Potts; "and we are as badly off for room as three

foxes in a hole."

"And there is no other outlet said the squire?"

"I conclude not," replied the attorney. "I groped about like a mole when

I was first thrust into the cavern by Jem Device, but I could find no

means of exit. The entrance was blocked up by the great stone which you

had some difficulty in moving, but which Jem could shift at will; for he

pushed it aside in a moment, and brought it back to its place, when he

returned just now with the old hag; but probably that was effected by

witchcraft."

"Most likely," said Nicholas, "But for your being in it, we would stop

up this hole, and bury the two wretches alive."

"Get me out first, good Master Nicholas, I implore of you, and then do

what you please," cried Potts. "Jem is tugging at my legs as if he would

pull them off."

"We will try who is strongest," said Nicholas, again seizing hold of

Potts by the shoulders.

"Oh, dear! oh, dear! I can't bear it--let go!" shrieked the attorney. "I

shall be stretched to twice my natural length. My joints are starting

from their sockets, my legs are coming off--oh! oh!"

"Lend a hand here, one of you," cried Nicholas to the men; "we'll have

him out, whatever be the consequence."

"But I won't come!" roared Potts. "You have no right to use me thus.

Torture! oh! oh! my loins are ruptured--my back is breaking--I am a dead

man.--The hag has got hold of my right leg, while Jem is tugging with

all his force at the left."

"Pull away!" cried Nicholas; "he is coming."

"My legs are off," yelled Potts, as he was plucked suddenly forth, with

a jerk that threw the squire and his assistants on their backs. "I shall

never be able to walk more. No, Heaven be praised!" he added, looking

down on his lower limbs, "I have only lost my boots."

"Never mind it, then," cried Nicholas; "but thank your stars you are

above ground once more. Hark'ee, Jem!" he continued, shouting down the

hole; "If you don't come forth at once, and bring Mother Demdike with

you, we'll close up the mouth of this hole in such a way that you

sha'n't require another grave. D'ye hear?"

"Yeigh," replied Jem, his voice coming hoarsely and hollowly up like the

accents of a ghost. "Am ey to go free if ey comply?"

"Certainly not," replied the squire. "You have a choice between this

hole and the hangman's cord at Lancaster, that is all. In either case

you will die by suffocation. But be quick--we have wasted time enough

already with you."

"Then if that's aw yo'll do fo' me, squire, eyn e'en stay wheere ey am,"

rejoined Jem.

"Very well," replied Nicholas. "Here, my man, stop up this hole with

earth and stones. Master Potts, you will lend a hand to the task."

"Readily, sir," replied the attorney, "though I shall lose the pleasure

I had anticipated of seeing that old carrion crow roasted alive."

"Stay a bit, squoire," roared Jem, as preparations were actively made

for carrying Nicholas's orders into execution. "Stay a bit, an ey'n cum

owt, an bring t' owd woman wi' me."

"I thought you'd change your mind," replied Nicholas, laughing. "Be

upon your guard," he added, in a low tone to the others, "and seize him

the moment he appears."

But Jem evidently found it no easy matter to perform his promise, for

stifled shrieks and other noises proclaimed that a desperate struggle

was going on between him and his grandmother.

"Aha!" exclaimed Nicholas, placing his ear to the hole. "The old hag is

unwilling to come forth, and spits and scratches like a cat-a-mountain,

while Jem gripes her like a terrier. It is a hard tussle between them,

but he is getting the better of it, and is pushing her forth. Now look

out."

And as he spoke, Mother Demdike's terrible head protruded from the

ground, and, despite of the execrations she poured forth upon her

enemies, she was instantly seized by them, drawn out of the cavern, and

secured. While the men were thus engaged, and while Nicholas's attention

was for an instant diverted, Jem bounded forth as suddenly as a wolf

from his lair, and, dashing aside all opposition, plunged down the hill.

"It is useless to pursue him," said Nicholas. "He will not escape. The

whole country will be roused by the beacon fire, and hue and cry shall

be made after him."

"Right!" exclaimed Potts; "and now let some one creep into that cavern,

and bring out my boots, and then I shall be in a better condition to

attend you."

The request being complied with, and the attorney being once more

equipped for walking, the party climbed the hill-side, and, bringing

Mother Demdike with them, shaped their course towards the beacon.

And now to see what had taken place in the interim.

Scarcely had the squire quitted Mistress Nutter than Sir Ralph Assheton

rode up to her.

"Why do you loiter here, madam?" he said, in a stern tone, somewhat

tempered by sorrow. "I have held back to give you an opportunity of

escape. The hill is invested by your enemies. On that side Roger Nowell

is advancing, and on this Sir Thomas Metcalfe and his followers. You may

possibly effect a retreat in the opposite direction, but not a moment

must be lost."

"I will go with you," said Alizon.

"No, no," interposed Richard. "You have not strength for the effort, and

will only retard her."

"I thank you for your devotion, my child," said Mistress Nutter, with a

look of grateful tenderness; "but it is unneeded. I have no intention of

flying. I shall surrender myself into the hands of justice."

"Do not mistake the matter, madam," said Sir Ralph, "and delude yourself

with the notion that either your rank or wealth will screen you from

punishment. Your guilt is too clearly established to allow you a chance

of escape, and, though I myself am acting wrongfully in counselling

flight to you, I am led to do so from the friendship once subsisting

between us, and the relationship which, unfortunately, I cannot

destroy."

"It is you who are mistaken, not I, Sir Ralph," replied Mistress Nutter.

"I have no thought of turning aside the sword of justice, but shall

court its sharpest edge, hoping by a full avowal of my offences, in some

degree to atone for them. My only regret is, that I shall leave my child

unprotected, and that my fate will bring dishonour upon her."

"Oh, think not of me, dear mother!" cried Alizon, "but persist

unhesitatingly in the course you have laid down. Far rather would I see

you act thus--far rather hear the sentiments you have uttered, even

though they may be attended by the saddest, consequences, than behold

you in your former proud position, and impenitent. Think not of me,

then. Or, rather, think only how I rejoice that your eyes are at length

opened, and that you have cast off the bonds of iniquity. I can now pray

for you with the full hope that my intercessions will prevail, and in

parting with you in this world shall be sustained by the conviction that

we shall meet in eternal happiness hereafter."

Mistress Nutter threw her arms about her daughter's neck, and they

mingled their tears together, Sir Ralph Assheton was much moved.

"It is a pity she should fall into their hands," he observed to Richard.

"I know not how to advise," replied the latter, greatly troubled.

"Ah! it is too late," exclaimed the knight; "here come Nowell and

Metcalfe. The poor lady's firmness will be severely tested."

The next moment the magistrate and the knight came up, with such of

their attendants as were not engaged in pursuing the witches, several of

whom had already been captured. On seeing Mistress Nutter, Sir Thomas

Metcalfe sprang from his horse, and would have seized her, but Sir Ralph

interposed, saying "She has surrendered herself to me. I will be

answerable for her safe custody."

"Your pardon, Sir Ralph," observed Nowell; "the arrest must be formally

made, and by a constable. Sparshot, execute your warrant."

Upon this, the official, leaping from his horse, displayed his staff and

a piece of parchment to Mistress Nutter, telling her she was his

prisoner.

The lady bowed her head.

"Shan ey tee her hands, yer warship?" demanded the constable of the

magistrate.

"On no account, fellow," interposed Sir Ralph. "I will have no indignity

offered her. I have already said I will be responsible for her."

"You will recollect she is arrested for witchcraft, Sir Ralph," observed

Nowell.

"She shall answer to the charges brought against her. I pledge myself

to that," replied Sir Ralph.

"And by a full confession," said Mistress Nutter. "You may pledge

yourself to that also, Sir Ralph."

"She avows her guilt," cried Nowell. "I take you all to witness it."

"I shall not forget it," said Sir Thomas Metcalfe.

"Nor I--nor I!" cried Sparshot, and two or three others of the

attendants.

"This girl is my prisoner," said Sir Thomas Metcalfe, dismounting, and

advancing towards Alizon, "She is a witch, as well as the rest."

"It is false," cried Richard! "and if you attempt to lay hands upon her

I will strike you to the earth."

"'Sdeath!" exclaimed Metcalfe, drawing his sword, "I will not let this

insolence pass unpunished. I have other affronts to chastise. Stand

aside, or I will cut your throat."

"Hold, Sir Thomas," cried Sir Ralph Assheton, authoritatively. "Settle

your quarrels hereafter, if you have any to adjust; but I will have no

fighting now. Alizon is no witch. You are well aware that she was about

to be impiously and cruelly sacrificed by Mother Demdike, and her rescue

was the main object of our coming hither."

"Still suspicion attaches to her," said Metcalfe; "whether she be the

daughter of Elizabeth Device or Alice Nutter, she comes of a bad stock,

and I protest against her being allowed to go free. However, if you are

resolved upon it, I have nothing more to say. I shall find other time

and place to adjust my differences with Master Richard Assheton."

"When you please, sir," replied the young man, sternly.

"And I will answer for the propriety of the course I have pursued," said

Sir Ralph; "but here comes Nicholas with Mother Demdike."

"Demdike taken! I am glad of it," cried Mother Chattox, slightly raising

herself as she spoke. "Kill her, or she will 'scape you."

When Nicholas came up with the old hag, both Sir Ralph Assheton and

Roger Nowell put several questions to her, but she refused to answer

their interrogations; and, horrified by her blasphemies and

imprecations, they caused her to be removed to a short distance, while a

consultation was held as to the course to be pursued.

"We have made half a dozen of these miscreants prisoners," said Roger

Nowell, "and the whole of them had better be taken to Whalley, where

they can be safely confined in the old dungeons of the Abbey, and after

their examination on the morrow can be removed to Lancaster Castle."

"Be it so," replied Sir Ralph; "but must yon unfortunate lady," he

added, pointing to Mistress Nutter, "be taken with them?"

"Assuredly," replied Nowell. "We can make no distinction among such

offenders; or, if there are any degrees in guilt, hers is of the highest

class."

"You had better take leave of your daughter," said Sir Ralph to Mistress

Nutter.

"I thank you for the hint," replied the lady. "Farewell, dear Alizon,"

she added, straining her to her bosom. "We must part for some time. Once

more before I quit this world, in which I have played so wicked a part,

I would fain look upon you--fain bless you, if I have the power--but

this must be at the last, when my trials are wellnigh over, and when all

is about to close upon me!"

"Oh! must it be thus?" exclaimed Alizon, in a voice half suffocated by

emotion.

"It must," replied her mother. "Do not attempt to shake my resolution,

my sweet child--do not weep for me. Amidst all the terrors that surround

me, I am happier now than I have been for years. I shall strive to work

out my redemption by prayers."

"And you will succeed!" cried Alizon.

"Not so!" shrieked Mother Demdike; "the Fiend will have his own. She is

bound to him by a compact which nought can annul."

"I should like to see the instrument," said Potts. "I might give a legal

opinion upon it. Perhaps it might be avoided; and in any case its

production in court would have an admirable effect. I think I see the

counsel examining it, and hear the judges calling for it to be placed

before them. His infernal Majesty's signature must be a curiosity in its

way. Our gracious and sagacious monarch would delight in it."

"Peace!" exclaimed Nicholas; "and take care," he cried, "that no further

interruptions are offered by that infernal hag. Have you done, madam?"

he added to Mistress Nutter, who still remained with her daughter folded

in her arms.

"Not yet," replied the lady. "Oh! what happiness I have thrown away!

What anguish--what remorse brought upon myself by the evil life I have

led! As I gaze on this fair face, and think it might long, long have

brightened my dark and desolate life with its sunshine--as I think upon

all this, my fortitude wellnigh deserts me, and I have need of support

from on high to carry me through my trial. But I fear it will be denied

me. Nicholas Assheton, you have the deed of the gift of Rough Lee in

your possession. Henceforth Alizon is mistress of the mansion and

domains."

"Provided always they are not forfeited to the crown, which I apprehend

will be the case," suggested Potts.

"I will take care she is put in possession of them," said Nicholas.

"As to you, Richard," continued Mistress Nutter, "the time may come

when your devotion to my daughter may be rewarded and I could not bestow

a greater boon upon you than by giving you her hand. It may be well I

should give my consent now, and, if no other obstacle should arise to

the union, may she be yours, and happiness I am sure will attend you!"

Overpowered by conflicting emotions, Alizon hid her face in her mother's

bosom, and Richard, who was almost equally overcome, was about to reply,

when Mother Demdike broke upon them.

"They will never be united!" she screamed. "Never! I have said it, and

my words will come true. Think'st thou a witch like thee can bless an

union, Alice Nutter? Thy blessings are curses, thy wishes

disappointments and despair. Thriftless love shall be Alizon's, and the

grave shall be her bridal bed. The witch's daughter shall share the

witch's fate."

These boding words produced a terrible effect upon the hearers.

"Heed her not, my sweet child--she speaks falsely," said Mistress

Nutter, endeavouring to re-assure her daughter; but the tone in which

the words were uttered showed that she herself was greatly alarmed.

"I have cursed them both, and I will curse them again," yelled Mother

Demdike.

"Away with the old screech-owl," cried Nicholas. "Take her to the

beacon, and, if she continues troublesome, hurl her into the flame."

And, notwithstanding the hag's struggles and imprecations, she was

removed.

"Whatever may betide, Alizon," cried Richard, "my life shall be devoted

to you; and, if you should not be mine, I will have no other bride. With

your permission, madam," he added, to Mistress Nutter, "I will take your

daughter to Middleton, where she will find companionship and solace, I

trust, in the attentions of my sister, who has the strongest affection

for her."

"I could wish nothing better," replied the lady, "and now to put an end

to this harrowing scene. Farewell, my child. Take her, Richard, take

her!" she cried, as she disengaged herself from the relaxing embrace of

her daughter. "Now, Master Nowell, I am ready."

"It is well, madam," he replied. "You will join the other prisoners, and

we will set forth."

But at this juncture a terrific shriek was heard, which drew all eyes

towards the beacon.

When Mother Demdike had been removed, in accordance with the squire's

directions, her conduct became more violent and outrageous than ever,

and those who had charge of her threatened, if she did not desist, to

carry out the full instructions they had received, and cast her into the

flames. The old hag defied and incensed them to such a degree by her

violence and blasphemies, that they carried her to the very edge of the

fire.

At this moment the figure of a monk, in mouldering white habiliments,

came from behind the beacon, and stood beside the old hag. He slowly

raised his hood, and disclosed features that looked like those of the

dead.

"Thy hour is come, accursed woman!" cried the phantom, in thrilling

accents. "Thy term on earth is ended, and thou shalt be delivered to

unquenchable fire. The curse of Paslew is fulfilled upon thee, and will

be fulfilled upon all thy viperous brood."

"Art thou the abbot's shade?" demanded the hag.

"I am thy implacable enemy," replied the phantom. "Thy judgment and thy

punishment are committed to me. To the flames with her!"

Such was the awe inspired by the monk, and such the authority of his

tones and gesture, that the command was unhesitatingly obeyed, and the

witch was cast, shrieking, into the fire.

She was instantly swallowed up as in a gulf of flame, which raged, and

roared, and shot up in a hundred lambent points, as if exulting in its

prey.

The wretched creature was seen for a moment to rise up in it in

extremity of anguish, with arms extended, and uttering a dreadful yell,

but the flames wreathed round her, and she sank for ever.

When those who had assisted at this fearful execution looked around for

the mysterious being who had commanded it, they could nowhere behold

him.

Then was heard a laugh of gratified hate--such a laugh as only a demon,

or one bound to a demon, can utter--and the appalled listeners looked

around, and beheld Mother Chattox standing behind them.

"My rival is gone!" cried the hag. "I have seen the last of her. She is

burnt--ah! ah!"

Further triumph was not allowed her. With one accord, and as if prompted

by an irresistible impulse, the men rushed upon her, seized her, and

cast her into the fire.

Her wild laughter was heard for a moment above the roaring of the

flames, and then ceased altogether.

Again the flame shot high in air, again roared and raged, again broke

into a multitude of lambent points, after which it suddenly expired.

All was darkness on the summit of Pendle Hill.

And in silence and in gloom scarcely more profound than that Weighing in

every breast, the melancholy troop pursued its way to Whalley.

END OF THE SECOND BOOK.

BOOK THE THIRD.

Hoghton tower

CHAPTER I.--DOWNHAM MANOR-HOUSE.

On a lovely morning, about the middle of July, in the same year as the

events previously narrated, Nicholas Assheton, always astir with the

lark, issued from his own dwelling, and sauntered across the smooth lawn

in front of it. The green eminence on which he stood was sheltered on

the right by a grove of sycamores, forming the boundary of the park, and

sloped down into a valley threaded by a small clear stream, whose

murmuring, as it danced over its pebbly bed, distinctly reached his ear

in the stillness of early day. On the left, partly in the valley, and

partly on the side of the acclivity on which the hall was situated,

nestled the little village whose inhabitants owned Nicholas as lord;

and, to judge from their habitations, they had reason to rejoice in

their master; for certainly there was a cheerful air about Downham which

the neighbouring hamlets, especially those in Pendle Forest, sadly

wanted.

On the left of the mansion, and only separated from it by the garden

walls, stood the church, a venerable structure, dating back to a period

more remote even than Whalley Abbey. From the churchyard a view, almost

similar to that enjoyed by the squire, was obtained, though partially

interrupted by the thick rounded foliage of a large tree growing beneath

it; and many a traveller who came that way lingered within the hallowed

precincts to contemplate the prospect. At the foot of the hill was a

small stone bridge crossing the stream.

Across the road, and scarce thirty paces from the church-gate, stood a

little alehouse, whose comfortable fireside nook and good liquors were

not disdained by the squire. In fact, to his shame be it spoken, he was

quite as often to be found there of an evening as at the hall. This had

more particularly been the case since the house was tenanted by Richard

Baldwyn, who having given up the mill at Rough Lee, and taken to wife

Bess Whitaker of Goldshaw Booth, had removed with her to Downham, where

he now flourished under the special protection of the squire. Bess had

lost none of her old habits of command, and it must be confessed that

poor Richard played a very secondary part in the establishment.

Nicholas, as may be supposed, was permitted considerable licence by her,

but even he had limits, which she took good care he should not exceed.

The Downham domains were well cultivated; the line of demarcation

between them and the heathy wastes adjoining, being clearly traced out,

and you had only to follow the course of the brook to see at a glance

where the purlieus of the forest ended, and where Nicholas Assheton's

property commenced: the one being a dreary moor, with here and there a

thicket upon it, but more frequently a dangerous morass, covered with

sulphur-coloured moss; and the other consisting of green meadows,

bordered in most instances by magnificent timber. The contrast, however,

was not without its charm; and while the sterile wastes set off the fair

and fertile fields around them, and enhanced their beauty, they offered

a wide, uninterrupted expanse, over which the eye could range at will.

On the further side of the valley, and immediately opposite the lawn

whereon Nicholas stood, the ground gradually arose, until it reached the

foot of Pendle Hill, which here assuming its most majestic aspect,

constituted the grand and peculiar feature of the scene. Nowhere could

the lordly eminence be seen to the same advantage as from this point,

and Nicholas contemplated it with feelings of rapture, which no

familiarity could diminish. The sun shone brightly upon its rounded

summit, and upon its seamy sides, revealing all its rifts and ridges;

adding depth of tint to its dusky soil, laid bare in places by the

winter torrents; lending new beauty to its purple heath, and making its

grey sod glow as with fire. So exhilarating was the prospect, that

Nicholas felt half tempted to cross the valley and scale the hill before

breaking his fast; but other feelings checked him, and he turned towards

the right. Here, beyond a paddock and some outbuildings, lay the park,

small in extent, but beautifully diversified, well stocked with deer,

and boasting much noble timber. In the midst was an exquisite knoll,

which, besides commanding a fine view of Pendle Hill, Downham, and all

the adjacent country, brought within its scope, on the one hand, the

ancient castle of Clithero and the heights overlooking Whalley; and, on

the other, the lovely and extensive vale through which the Ribble

wandered. This, also, was a favourite point of view with the squire, and

he had some idea of walking towards it, when he was arrested by a person

who came from the house, and who shouted to him, hoarsely but blithely,

to stay.

The new-comer was a man of middle age, with a skin almost as tawny as a

gipsy's, a hooked nose, black beetling brows, and eyes so strangely set

in his head, that they communicated a sinister expression to his

countenance. He possessed a burly frame, square, and somewhat heavy,

though not so much so as to impede his activity. In deportment and

stature, though not in feature, he resembled the squire himself; and the

likeness was heightened by his habiliments being part of Nicholas's old

wardrobe, the doublet and hose, and even the green hat and boots, being

those in which Nicholas made his first appearance in this history. The

personage who thus condescended to be fed and clothed at the squire's

expense, and who filled a situation something between guest and menial,

without receiving the precise attention of the one or the wages of the

other, but who made himself so useful to Nicholas that he could not

dispense with him--neither, perhaps would he have been shaken off, even

if it had been desired--was named Lawrence Fogg, an entire stranger to

the country, whom Nicholas had picked up at Colne, and whom he had

invited to Downham for a few weeks' hunting, and had never been able to

get rid of him since.

Lawrence Fogg liked his quarters immensely, and determined to remain in

them; and as a means to so desirable an end, he studied all the squire's

weak points and peculiarities, and these not being very difficult to be

understood, he soon mastered them, and mastered the squire into the

bargain, but without allowing his success to become manifest. Nicholas

was delighted to find one with tastes so congenial to his own, who was

so willing to hunt or fish with him--who could train a hawk as well as

Phil Royle, the falconer--diet a fighting-cock as well as Tom Shaw, the

cock-master--enter a hound better than Charlie Crouch, the old

huntsman--shoot with the long-bow further than any one except himself,

and was willing to toss off a pot with him, or sing a merry stave

whenever he felt inclined. Such a companion was invaluable, and Nicholas

congratulated himself upon the discovery, especially when he found

Lawrence Fogg not unwilling to undertake some delicate commissions for

him, which he could not well execute himself, and which he was unwilling

should reach Mistress Assheton's ears. These were managed with equal

adroitness and caution. About the same time, too, Nicholas finding money

scarce, and, not liking to borrow it in person, delegated Fogg, and sent

him round to his friends to ask for a loan; but, in this instance, the

mission was attended with very indifferent success, for not one of them

would lend him so small a sum as thirty pounds, all averring they stood

in need of it quite as much as himself. Though somewhat inconvenienced

by their refusal, Nicholas bore the disappointment with his customary

equanimity, and made merry with his friend as if nothing had happened.

Fogg showed an equal accommodating spirit in all religious observances,

and, though much against his inclination, attended morning discourses

and lectures with his patron, and even made an attempt at psalm-singing;

but on one occasion, missing the tune and coming in with a bacchanalian

chorus, he was severely rebuked by the minister, and enjoined to keep

silence in future. Such was the friendly relation subsisting between

the parties when they met together on the lawn on the morning in

question.

"Well, Fogg," cried Nicholas, after exchanging salutations with his

friend, "what say you to hunting the otter in the Ribble after

breakfast? 'Tis a rare day for the sport, and the hounds are in

excellent order. There is an old dam and her litter whom we must kill,

for she has been playing the very devil with the fish for a space of

more than two miles; and if we let her off for another week, we shall

have neither salmon, trout, nor umber, as all will have passed down the

maws of her voracious brood."

"And that would be a pity, in good sooth, squire," replied Fogg; "for

there are no fish like those of the Ribble. Nothing I should prefer to

the sport you promise; but I thought you had other business for me

to-day? Another attempt to borrow money--eh?"

"Ay, from my cousin, Dick Assheton," rejoined Nicholas; "he will lend me

the thirty pounds, I am quite sure. But you had better defer the visit

till to-morrow, when his father, Sir Richard, will be at Whalley, and

when you can have him to yourself. Dick will not say you nay, depend

on't; he is too good a fellow for that. A murrain on those close-fisted

curmudgeons, Roger Nowell, Nicholas Townley, and Tom Whitaker. They

ought to be delighted to oblige me."

"But they declare they have no money," said Fogg.

"No money!--pshaw!" exclaimed Nicholas; "an idle excuse. They have

chests full. Would I had all Roger Nowell's gold, I should not require

another supply for years. But, 'sdeath! I will not trouble myself for a

paltry thirty pounds."

"If I might venture to suggest, squire, while you are about it, I would

ask for a hundred pounds, or even two or three hundred," said Fogg.

"Your friends will think all the better of you, and feel more satisfied

you intend to repay them."

"Do you think so!" cried Nicholas. "Then, by Plutus, it shall be three

hundred pounds--three hundred at interest. Dick will have to borrow the

amount to lend it to me; but, no matter, he will easily obtain it.

Harkye, Fogg, while you are at Middleton, endeavour to ascertain whether

any thing has been arranged about the marriage of a certain young lady

to a certain young gentleman. I am curious to know the precise state of

affairs in that quarter."

"I will arrive at the truth, if possible, squire," replied Fogg; "but I

should scarcely think Sir Richard would assent to his son's union with

the daughter of a notorious witch."

"Sir Richard's son is scarcely likely to ask Sir Richard's consent,"

said Nicholas; "and as to Mistress Nutter, though heavy charges have

been brought against her, nothing has been proved, for you know she

escaped, or rather was rescued, on her way to Lancaster Castle."

"I am fully aware of it, squire," replied Fogg; "and I more than

suspect a worthy friend of mine had a hand in her deliverance and could

tell where to find her if needful. But that is neither here nor there.

The lady is quite innocent, I dare say. Indeed, I am quite sure of it,

since you espouse her cause so warmly. But the world is malicious, and

strange things are reported of her."

"Heed not the world, Fogg," rejoined Nicholas. "The world speaks well of

no man, be his deserts what they may. The world says that I waste my

estate in wine, women, and horseflesh--that I spend time in pleasures

which might be profitably employed--that I neglect my wife, forget my

religious observances, am on horseback when I should be afoot, at the

alehouse when I should be at home, at a marriage when I should be at a

funeral, shooting when I should be keeping my books--in short, it has

not a good word to say for me. And as for thee, Fogg, it says thou art

an idle, good-for-nothing fellow; or, if thou art good for aught, it is

only for something that leads to evil. It says thou drinkest

prodigiously, liest confoundedly, and swearest most profanely; that thou

art ever more ready to go to the alehouse than to church, and that none

of the girls can 'scape thee. Nay, the slanderers even go so far as to

assert thou wouldst not hesitate to say, 'Stand and deliver!' to a true

man on the highway. That is what the world says of thee. But, hang it!

never look chapfallen, man. Let us go to the stables, and then we will

in to breakfast; after which we will proceed to the Ribble, and spear

the old otter."

A fine old manorial residence was Downham, and beautifully situated, as

has been shown, on a woody eminence to the north of Pendle Hill. It was

of great antiquity, and first came into the possession of the Assheton

family in 1558. Considerable additions had been made to it by its

present owner, Nicholas, and the outlay necessarily required, combined

with his lavish expenditure, had contributed to embarrass him. The

stables were large, and full of horses; the kennels on the same scale,

and equally well supplied with hounds; and there was a princely retinue

of servants in the yard--grooms, keepers, falconers, huntsmen, and their

assistants--to say nothing of their fellows within doors. In short, if

it had been your fortune to accompany the squire and his friend round

the premises--if you had walked through the stables and counted the

horses--if you had viewed the kennels and examined the various

hounds--the great Lancashire dogs, tall, shaggy, and heavy, a race now

extinct; the Worcestershire hounds, then also in much repute; the

greyhounds, the harriers, the beagles, the lurchers, and, lastly, the

verminers, or, as we should call them, the terriers,--if you had seen

all these, you would not have wondered that money was scarce with him.

Still further would your surprise at such a consequence have diminished

if you had gone on to the falconry, and seen on the perches the goshawk

and her tercel, the sparrowhawk and her musket, under the care of the

ostringer; and further on the falcon-gentle, the gerfalcon, the lanner,

the merlin, and the hobby, all of which were attended to by the head

falconer. It would have done you good to hear Nicholas inquiring from

his men if they had "set out their birds that morning, and weathered

them;" if they had mummy powder in readiness, then esteemed a sovereign

remedy; if the lures, hoods, jesses, buets, and all other needful

furniture, were in good order; and if the meat were sweet and wholesome.

You might next have followed him to the pens where the fighting cocks

were kept, and where you would have found another source of expense in

the cock-master, Tom Shaw--a knave who not only got high wages from his

master, but understood so well the dieting of his birds that he could

make them win or lose a battle as he thought proper. Here, again,

Nicholas had much to say, and was in raptures with one cock, which he

told Fogg he would back to any amount, utterly unconscious of a

significant look that passed between his friend and the cock-master.

"Look at him," cried the squire; "how proud and erect he stands! His

head is as small as that of a sparrowhawk, his eye large and quick, his

body thick, his leg strong in the beam, and his spurs long, rough, and

sharp. That is the bird for me. I will take him over to the cockpit at

Prescot next week, and match him against any bird Sir John Talbot, or my

cousin Braddyll, can bring."

"And yo'n win, squoire," replied the cock-master; "ey ha' been feedin'

him these five weeks, so he'll be i' rare condition then, and winna fail

yo. Yo may lay what yo loike upon him," he added, with a sly wink at

Fogg.

"You may win the thirty pounds you want," observed the latter, in a low

tone to the squire.

"Or, mayhap, lose it," replied Nicholas. "I shall not risk so much,

unless I get the three hundred from Dick Assheton. I have been unlucky

of late. You beat me constantly at tables now, Fogg, and when I first

knew you this was not wont to be the case. Nay, never make any excuses,

man; you cannot help it. Let us in to breakfast."

With this, he proceeded towards the house, followed by Fogg and a couple

of large Lancashire hounds, and, entering at the back of the premises,

made his way through the scullery into the kitchen. Here there were

plentiful evidences of the hospitality, not to say profusion, reigning

throughout the mansion. An open door showed a larder stocked with all

kinds of provisions, and before the fire joints of meat and poultry were

roasting. Pies were baking in the oven; and over the flames, in the

chimney, was suspended a black pot large enough for a witch's caldron.

The cook was busied in preparing for the gridiron some freshly-caught

trout, intended for the squire's own breakfast; and a kitchen-maid was

toasting oatcakes, of which there was a large supply in the bread-flake

depending from the ceiling.

Casting a look around, and exchanging a few words with the cook,

Nicholas moved on, still followed by Fogg and the hounds, and, tracking

a long stone passage, entered the great hall. Here the same disorder and

irregularity prevailed as in his own character and conduct. All was

litter and confusion. Around the walls were hung breastplates and

buff-coats, morions, shields, and two-handed swords; but they were half

hidden by fishing-nets, fowling-nets, dogs' collars, saddles and

bridles, housings, cross-bows, long-bows, quivers, baldricks, horns,

spears, guns, and every other implement then used in the sports of the

river or the field. The floor was in an equal state of disorder. The

rushes were filled with half-gnawed bones, brought thither by the

hounds; and in one corner, on a mat, was a favourite spaniel and her

whelps. The squire however was, happily, insensible to the condition of

the chamber, and looked around it with an air of satisfaction, as if he

thought it the perfection of comfort.

A table was spread for breakfast, near a window looking out upon the

lawn, and two covers only were laid, for Mistress Nicholas Assheton did

not make her appearance at this early hour. And now was exhibited one of

those strange contradictions of which the squire's character was

composed. Kneeling down by the side of the table, and without noticing

the mocking expression of Fogg's countenance as he followed his example,

Nicholas prayed loudly and fervently for upwards of ten minutes, after

which he arose and gave a shout which proved that his lungs were

unimpaired, and not only roused the whole house, but set all the dogs

barking.

Presently a couple of serving-men answered this lusty summons, and the

table was covered with good and substantial dishes, which he and his

companion attacked with a vigour such as only the most valiant

trencherman can display. Already has it been remarked that a breakfast

at the period in question resembled a modern dinner; and better proof

could not have been afforded of the correctness of the description than

the meal under discussion, which comprised fish, flesh, and fowl,

boiled, broiled, and roast, together with strong ale and sack. After an

hour thus agreeably employed, and while they were still seated, though

breakfast had pretty nearly come to an end, a serving-man entered,

announcing Master Richard Sherborne of Dunnow. The squire instantly

sprang to his feet, and hastened to welcome his brother-in-law.

"Ah! good-day to you, Dick," he cried, shaking him heartily by the hand;

"what happy chance brings you here so early? But first sit down and

eat--eat, and talk afterwards. Here, Roger, Harry, bring another platter

and napkin, and let us have more broiled trout and a cold capon, a

pasty, or whatever you can find in the larder. Try some of this gammon

meanwhile, Dick. It will help down a can of ale. And now what brings

thee hither, lad? Pressing business, no doubt. Thou mayest speak before

Fogg. I have no secrets from him. He is my second self."

"I have no secrets to divulge, Nicholas," replied Sherborne, "and I will

tell you at once what I am come about. Have you heard that the King is

about to visit Hoghton Tower in August?"

"No; this is news to me," replied Nicholas; "does your business relate

to his visit?"

"It does," replied Sherborne. "Last night a messenger came to me from

Sir Richard Hoghton, entreating me to move you to do him the favour and

courtesy to attend him at the King's coming, and wear his livery."

"I wear his livery!" exclaimed Nicholas, indignantly. "'Sdeath! what do

you take me for, cousin Dick?"

"For a right good fellow, who I am sure will comply with his friend's

request, especially when he finds there is no sort of degradation in

it," replied Sherborne. "Why, I shall wear Sir Richard's cloth, and so

will several others of our friends. There will be rare doings at

Hoghton--masquings, mummings, and all sorts of revels, besides hunting,

shooting, racing, wrestling, and the devil knows what. You may feast and

carouse to your heart's content. The Dukes of Buckingham and Richmond

will be there, and the Earls of Nottingham and Pembroke, and Sir Gilbert

Hoghton, the King's great favourite, who married the Duchess of

Buckingham's sister. Besides these, you will have all the beauty of

Lancashire. I would not miss the sight for thirty pounds."

"Thirty pounds!" echoed Nicholas, as if struck with a sudden thought.

"Do you think Sir Thomas Hoghton would lend me that sum if I consent to

wear his cloth, and attend him?"

"I have no doubt of it," replied Sherborne; "and if he won't, I will."

"Then I will put my pride in my pocket, and go," said Nicholas. "And

now, Dick, dispatch your breakfast as quickly as you can, and then I

will take you to the Ribble, and show you some sport with an otter."

Sherborne was not long in concluding his repast, and having received an

otter spear from the squire, who had already provided himself and Fogg

with like weapons, all three adjourned to the kennels, where they found

the old huntsman, Charlie Crouch, awaiting them, attended by four stout

varlets, armed with forked staves, meant for the double purpose of

beating the river's banks, and striking the poor beast they were about

to hunt, and each man having a couple of hounds, well entered for the

chase, in leash. Old Crouch was a thin, grey-bearded fellow, but

possessed of a tough, muscular frame, which served him quite as well in

the long run as the younger, and apparently more vigorous, limbs of his

assistants. His cheek was hale, and his eye still bright and quick, and

a certain fierceness was imparted to his countenance by a large

aquiline nose. He was attired in a greasy leathern jerkin, tight hose of

the same material, and had a bugle suspended from his neck, and a sharp

hunting-knife thrust into his girdle. In his hand he bore a spear like

his master, and was followed by a grey old lurcher, who, though wanting

an ear and an eye, and disfigured by sundry scars on throat and back,

was hardy, untiring, and sagacious. This ancient dog was called Grip,

from his tenacity in holding any thing he set his teeth upon, and he and

Crouch were inseparable.

Great was the clamour occasioned by the squire's appearance in the yard.

The coupled hounds gave tongue at once, and sang out most melodiously,

and all the other dogs within the kennels, or roaming at will about the

yard, joined the concert. After much swearing, cracking of whips, and

yelping consequent upon the cracking, silence was in some degree

restored, and a consultation was then held between Nicholas and Crouch

as to where their steps should first be bent. The old huntsman was for

drawing the river near a place called Bean Hill Wood, as the trees

thereabouts, growing close to the water's edge, it was pretty certain

the otter would have her couch amid the roots of some of them. This was

objected to by one of the varlets, who declared that the beast lodged in

a hollow tree, standing on a bank nearly a mile higher up the stream,

and close by the point of junction between Swanside Beck and the Ribble.

He was certain of the fact, he avouched, because he had noticed her

marks on the moist grass near the tree.

"Hoo goes theere to fish, mon?" cried Crouch, "for it is the natur o'

the wary varmint to feed at a distance fro' her lodgin; boh ey'm sure we

shan leet on her among the roots o' them big trees o'erhanging th' river

near Bean Hill Wood, an if the squire 'll tay my advice, he'n go theere

first."

"I put myself entirely under your guidance, Crouch," said Nicholas.

"An yo'n be aw reet, sir," replied the huntsman; "we'n beat the bonks

weel, an two o' these chaps shan go up the stream, an two down, one o'

one side, and one o' t'other; an i' that manner hoo canna escape us, fo'

Grip can swim an dive os weel as onny otter i' aw Englondshiar, an he'n

be efter her an her litter the moment they tak to t' wotur. Some folk,

os maybe yo ha' seen, squoire, tak howd on a cord by both eends, an

droppin it into t' river, draw it slowly along, so that they can tell by

th' jerk when th' otter touches it; boh this is an onsartin method, an

is nowt like Grip's plan, for wherever yo see him swimmin, t'other beast

yo may be sure is nah far ahead."

"A brave dog, but confoundedly ugly!" exclaimed the squire, regarding

the old one-eared, one-eyed lurcher with mingled admiration and disgust;

"and now, that all is arranged, let us be off."

Accordingly they quitted the court-yard, and, shaping their course in

the direction indicated by the huntsman, entered the park, and proceeded

along a glade, checkered by the early sunbeams. Here the noise they made

in their progress speedily disturbed a herd of deer browsing beneath the

trees, and, as the dappled foresters darted off to a thicker covert,

great difficulty was experienced by the varlets in restraining the

hounds, who struggled eagerly to follow them, and made the welkin

resound with their baying.

"Yonder is a tall fellow," cried Nicholas, pointing out a noble buck to

Crouch; "I must kill him next week, for I want to send a haunch of

venison to Middleton, and another to Whalley Abbey for Sir Ralph."

"Better hunt him, squoire," said Crouch; "he will gi' ye good sport."

Soon after this they attained an eminence, where a charming sweep of

country opened upon them, including the finest part of Ribblesdale, with

its richly-wooded plains, and the swift and beautiful river from which

it derived its name. The view was enchanting, and the squire and his

companions paused for a moment to contemplate it, and then, stepping

gleefully forward, made their way over the elastic turf towards a small

thicket skirting the park. All were in high spirits, for the freshness

and beauty of the morning had not been without effect, and the squire's

tongue kept pace with his legs as he strode briskly along; but as they

entered the thicket in question, and caught sight of the river through

the trees, the old huntsman enjoined silence, and he was obliged to put

a check upon his loquacity.

When within a bowshot from the water, the party came to a halt, and two

of the men were directed by Crouch to cross the stream at different

points, and then commence beating the banks, while the other two were

ordered to pursue a like course, but to keep on the near side of the

river. The hounds were next uncoupled, and the men set off to execute

the orders they had received, and soon afterwards the crashing of

branches, and the splashing of water, accompanied by the deep baying of

the hounds, told they were at work.

Meanwhile, Nicholas and the others had not remained idle. As the varlets

struck off in different directions, they went straight on, and forcing

their way through the brushwood, came to a high bank overlooking the

Ribble, on the top of which grew three or four large trees, whose roots,

laid bare on the further side by the swollen currents of winter, formed

a convenient resting-place for the fish-loving creature they hoped to

surprise. Receiving a hint from Crouch to make for the central tree,

Nicholas grasped his spear, and sprang forward; but, quick as he was, he

was too late, though he saw enough to convince him that the crafty old

huntsman had been correct in his judgment; for a dark, slimy object

dropped from out the roots of the tree beneath him, and glided into the

water as swiftly and as noiselessly as if its skin had been oiled. A few

bubbles rose to the surface of the water, but these were all the

indications marking the course of the wondrous diver.

But other eyes, sharper than those of Nicholas, were on the watch, and

the old huntsman shouted out, "There hoo goes, Grip--efter her, lad,

efter her!" The words were scarcely uttered when the dog sprang from the

top of the bank and sank under the water. For some seconds no trace

could be observed of either animal, and then the shaggy nose of the

lurcher was seen nearly fifty yards higher up the river, and after

sniffing around for a moment, and fixing his single eye on his master,

who was standing on the bank, and encouraging him with his voice and

gesture, he dived again.

"Station yourselves on the bank, fifty paces apart," cried Crouch; "run,

run, or yo'n be too late, an' strike os quick os leet if yo've a chance.

Stay wheere you are, squoire," he added, to Nicholas. "Yo canna be

better placed."

All was now animation and excitement. Perceiving from the noise that the

otter had been found, the four varlets hastened towards the scene of

action, and, by their shouts and the clatter of their staves,

contributed greatly to its spirit. Two were on one side of the stream,

and two on the other, and up to this moment the hounds were similarly

separated; but now most of them had taken to the water, some swimming

about, others standing up to the middle in the shallower part of the

current, watching with keen gaze for the appearance of their anticipated

victim.

Having descended the bank, Nicholas had so placed himself among the huge

twisted roots of the tree, that if the otter, alarmed by the presence of

so many foes, and unable to escape either up or down the river, should

return to her couch, he made certain of striking her. At first there

seemed little chance of such an occurrence, for Fogg, who had gone a

hundred yards higher up, suddenly dashed into the stream, and, plunging

his spear into the mud, cried out that he had hit the beast; but the

next moment, when he drew the weapon forth, and exhibited a large rat

which he had transfixed, his mistake excited much merriment.

Old Crouch, meantime, did not suffer his attention to be drawn from his

dog. Every now and then he saw him come to the surface to breathe, but

as he kept within a short distance, though rising at different points,

the old huntsman felt certain the otter had not got away, and, having

the utmost reliance upon Grip's perseverance and sagacity, he felt

confident he would bring the quarry to him if the thing were possible.

The varlets kept up an incessant clatter, beating the water with their

staves, and casting large stones into it, while the hounds bayed

furiously, so that the poor fugitive was turned on whichever side she

attempted a retreat.

While this was going on, Nicholas was cautioned by the huntsman to look

out, and scarcely had the admonition reached him than the sleek shining

body of the otter emerged from the water, and wreathed itself among the

roots. The squire instantly dealt a blow which he expected to prove

fatal, but his mortification was excessive when he found he had driven

the spear-head so deeply into the tree that he could scarcely disengage

it, while an almost noiseless plunge told that his prey had escaped.

Almost at the same moment that the poor hunted beast had sought its old

lodging, the untiring lurcher had appeared at the edge of the bank, and,

as the former again went down, he dived likewise.

Secretly laughing at the squire's failure, the old huntsman prepared to

take advantage of a similar opportunity if it should present itself, and

with this view ensconced himself behind a pollard willow, which stood

close beside the stream, and whence he could watch closely all that

passed, without being exposed to view. The prudence of the step was soon

manifest. After the lapse of a few seconds, during which neither dog nor

otter had risen to breathe, a slight, very slight, undulation was

perceptible on the surface of the water. Crouch's grasp tightened upon

his staff--he waited another moment--then dashed forward, struck down

his spear, and raised it aloft, with the poor otter transfixed and

writhing upon its point.

Loudly and exultingly did the old man shout at his triumph, and loudly

were his vociferations answered by the others. All flew to the spot

where he was standing, and the hounds, gathering round him, yelled

furiously at the otter, and showed every disposition to tear her in

pieces, if they could get at her. Kicking the noisiest and fiercest of

them out of the way, Crouch approached the river's brink, and lowered

the spear-head till it came within reach of his favourite Grip, who had

not yet come out of the water, but stood within his depth, with his one

red eye fixed on the enemy he had so hotly pursued, and fully expecting

his reward. It now came; his sharp teeth instantly met in the otter's

throat, and when Crouch swung them both in the air, he still maintained

his hold, showing how well he deserved his name, nor could he be

disengaged until long after the sufferings of the tortured animal had

ceased.

To say that Nicholas was neither chagrined at his ill success, nor

jealous of the old huntsman's superior skill, would be to affirm an

untruth; but he put the best face he could upon the matter, and praised

Grip very highly, alleging that the whole merit of the hunt rested with

him. Old Crouch let him go on, and when he had done, quietly observed

that the otter they had destroyed was not the one they came in search

of, as they had seen nothing of her litter; and that, most likely, the

beast that had done so much mischief had her lodging in the hollow tree

near the Swanside Beck, as described by the varlet, and he wished to

know whether the squire would like to go and hunt her. Nicholas replied

that he was quite willing to do so, and hoped he should have better luck

on the second occasion; and with this they set forward again, taking

their way along the side of the stream, beating the banks as they went,

but without rousing any thing beyond an occasional water-rat, which was

killed almost as soon as found by Grip.

Somehow or other, without any one being aware what led to it the

conversation fell upon the two old witches, Mothers Demdike and Chattox,

and the strange manner in which their career had terminated on the

summit of Pendle Hill--if, indeed it could be said to have terminated,

when their spirits were reported to haunt the spot, and might be seen,

it was asserted, at midnight, flitting round the beacon, and shrieking

dismally. The restless shades were pursued, it was added, by the figure

of a monk in white mouldering robes, supposed to be the ghost of Paslew.

It was difficult to understand how these apparitions could be witnessed,

since no one, even for a reward, could be prevailed upon to ascend

Pendle Hill after nightfall; but the shepherds affirmed they had seen

them from below, and that was testimony sufficient to shake the most

sceptical. One singular circumstance was mentioned, which must not be

passed by without notice; and this was, that when the cinders of the

extinct beacon-fire came to be examined, no remains whatever of the two

hags could be discovered, though the ashes were carefully sifted, and it

was quite certain that the flames had expired long before their bodies

could be consumed. The explanation attempted for this marvel was, that

Satan had carried them off while yet living, to finish their combustion

in a still more fiery region.

Mention of Mother Demdike naturally led to her grandson, Jem Device,

who, having escaped in a remarkable manner on the night in question,

notwithstanding the hue and cry made after him, had not, as yet, been

captured, though he had been occasionally seen at night, and under

peculiar circumstances, by various individuals, and amongst others by

old Crouch, who, however, declared he had been unable to lay hands upon

him.

Allusion was then made to Mistress Nutter, whereupon it was observed

that the squire changed the conversation quickly; while sundry sly winks

and shrugs were exchanged among the varlets of the kennel, seeming to

intimate that they knew more about the matter than they cared to admit.

Nothing more, however, was elicited than that the escort conducting her

to Lancaster Castle, together with the other witches, after their

examination before the magistrates at Whalley, and committal, had been

attacked, while it was passing through a woody defile in Bowland Forest,

by a party of men in the garb of foresters, and the lady set free. Nor

had she been heard of since. What made this rescue the more

extraordinary was, that none of the other witches were liberated at the

same time, but some of them who seemed disposed to take advantage of the

favourable interposition, and endeavoured to get away, were brought back

by the foresters to the officers of justice; thus clearly proving that

the attempt was solely made on Mistress Nutter's account, and must have

been undertaken by her friends. Nothing, it was asserted, could equal

the rage and mortification of Roger Nowell and Potts, on learning that

their chief prey had thus escaped them; and by their directions, for

more than a week, the strictest search was made for the fugitive

throughout the neighbourhood, but without effect--no clue could be

discovered to her retreat. Suspicion naturally fell upon the two

Asshetons, Nicholas and Richard, and Roger Nowell roundly taxed them

with contriving and executing the enterprise in person; while Potts told

them they were guilty of misprision of felony, and threatened them with

imprisonment for life, forfeiture of goods and of rents, for the

offence; but as the charge could not be proved against them,

notwithstanding all the efforts of the magistrate and attorney, it fell

to the ground; and Master Potts, full of chagrin at this unexpected and

vexatious termination of the affair, returned to London, and settled

himself in his chambers in Chancery Lane. His duties, however, as clerk

of the court, would necessarily call him to Lancaster in August, when

the assizes commenced, and when he would assist at the trials of such of

the witches as were still in durance.

From Mother Demdike it was natural that the conversation should turn to

her weird retreat, Malkin Tower; and Richard Sherborne expressed his

surprise that the unhallowed structure should be suffered to remain

standing after her removal. Nicholas said he was equally anxious with

his brother-in-law for its demolition, but it was not so easily to be

accomplished as it might appear; for the deserted structure was in such

ill repute with the common folk, as well as every one else, that no one

dared approach it, even in the daytime. A boggart, it was said, had

taken possession of its vaults, and scared away all who ventured near

it; sometimes showing himself in one frightful shape, and sometimes in

another; now as a monstrous goat, now as an equally monstrous cat,

uttering fearful cries, glaring with fiery eyes from out of the windows,

or appearing in all his terror on the summit of the tower. Moreover, the

haunted structure was frequently lighted up at dead of night, strains of

unearthly music were heard resounding from it, and wild figures were

seen flitting past the windows, as if engaged in dancing and revelry; so

that it appeared that no alteration for the better had taken place

there, and that things were still quite as improperly conducted now, as

they had been in the time of Mother Demdike, or in those of her

predecessors, Isole de Heton and Blackburn, the robber. The common

opinion was, that Satan and all his imps had taken up their abode in the

tower, and, as they liked their quarters, led a jolly life there,

dancing and drinking all night long, it would be useless at present to

give them notice to quit, still less to attempt to pull down the house

about their ears. Richard Sherborne heard this wondrous relation in

silence, but with a look of incredulity; and when it was done he winked

slily at his brother-in-law. A strange expression, half comical, half

suspicious, might also have been observed on Fogg's countenance; and he

narrowly watched the squire as the latter spoke.

"But with the disappearance of the malignant old hags who had so long

infested the neighbourhood, had all mischief and calamity ceased, or

were people as much afflicted as heretofore? Were there, in short, so

many cases of witchcraft, real or supposed?" This was the question next

addressed by Sherborne to Nicholas. The squire answered decidedly there

were not. Since the burning of the two old beldames, and the

imprisonment of the others, the whole district of Pendle had improved.

All those who had been smitten with strange illnesses had recovered; and

the inhabitants of the little village of Sabden, who had experienced the

fullest effects of their malignity, were entirely free from sickness.

And not only had they and their families suddenly regained health and

strength, but all belonging to them had undergone a similar beneficial

change. The kine that had lost their milk now yielded it abundantly; the

lame horse halted no longer; the murrain ceased among the sheep; the

pigs that had grown lean amidst abundance fattened rapidly; and though

the farrows that had perished during the evil ascendency of the witches

could not be brought back again, their place promised speedily to be

supplied by others. The corn blighted early in the year had sprung forth

anew, and the trees nipped in the bud were laden with fruit. In short,

all was as fair and as flourishing as it had recently been the reverse.

Amongst others, John Law, the pedlar, who had been deprived of the use

of his limbs by the damnable arts of Mother Demdike, had marvellously

recovered on the very night of her destruction, and was now as strong

and as active as ever. "Such happy results having followed the removal

of the witches, it was to be hoped," Sherborne said, "that the riddance

would be complete, and that none of the obnoxious brood would be left to

inflict future miseries on their fellows. This could not be the case so

long as James Device was allowed to go at large; nor while his mother,

Elizabeth Device, a notorious witch, was suffered to escape with

impunity. There was also Jennet, Elizabeth's daughter, a mischievous and

ill-favoured little creature, who inherited all the ill qualities of her

parents. These were the spawn of the old snake, and, until they were

entirely exterminated, there could be no security against a recurrence

of the evil. Again, there was Nance Redferne, old Chattox's

grand-daughter, a comely woman enough, but a reputed witch, and an

undoubted fabricator of clay images. She was still at liberty, though

she ought to be with the rest in the dungeons of Lancaster Castle. It

was useless to allege that with the destruction of the old hags all

danger had ceased. Common prudence would keep the others quiet now; but

the moment the storm passed over, they would resume their atrocious

practices, and all would be as bad as ever. No, no! the tree must be

utterly uprooted, or it would inevitably burst forth anew."

With these opinions Nicholas generally concurred; but he expressed some

sympathy for Nance Redferne, whom he thought far too good-looking to be

as wicked and malicious as represented. But however that might be, and

however much he might desire to get rid of the family of the Devices, he

feared such a step might be attended with danger to Alizon, and that she

might in some way or other be implicated with them. This last remark he

addressed in an under-tone to his brother-in-law. Sherborne did not at

first feel any apprehension on that score, but, on reflection, he

admitted that Nicholas was perhaps right; and though Alizon was now the

recognised daughter of Mistress Nutter, yet her long and intimate

connection with the Device family might operate to her prejudice, while

her near relationship to an avowed witch would not tend to remove the

unfavourable impression. Sherborne then went on to speak in the most

rapturous terms of the beauty and goodness of the young girl who formed

the subject of their conversation, and declared he was not in the least

surprised that Richard Assheton was so much in love with her. And yet,

he added, a most extraordinary change had taken place in her since the

dreadful night on Pendle Hill, when her mother's guilt had been

proclaimed, and when her arrest had taken place as an offender of the

darkest dye. Alizon, he said, had lost none of her beauty, but her light

and joyous expression of countenance had been supplanted by a look of

profound sadness, which nothing could remove. Gentle and meek in her

deportment, she seemed to look upon herself as under a ban, and as if

she were unfit to associate with the rest of the world. In vain Richard

Assheton and his sister endeavoured to remove this impression by the

tenderest assiduities; in vain they sought to induce her to enter into

amusements consistent with her years; she declined all society but their

own, and passed the greater part of her time in prayer. Sherborne had

seen her so engaged, and the expression of her countenance, he declared,

was seraphic.

On the extreme verge of a high bank situated at the point of junction

between Swanside Beck and the Ribble, stood an old, decayed oak. Little

of the once mighty tree beyond the gnarled trunk was left, and this was

completely hollow; while there was a great rift near the bottom through

which a man might easily creep, and, when once in, stand erect without

inconvenience. Beneath the bank the river was deep and still, forming a

pool, where the largest and fattest fish were to be met with. In

addition to this, the spot was extremely secluded, being rarely visited

by the angler on account of the thick copse by which it was surrounded

and which extended along the back, from the point of confluence between

the lesser and the larger stream, to Downham mill, nearly half a mile

distant.

The sides of the Ribble were here, as elsewhere, beautifully wooded, and

as the clear stream winded along through banks of every diversity of

shape and character, and covered by forest trees of every description,

and of the most luxuriant growth, the effect was enchanting; the more

so, that the sun, having now risen high in the heavens, poured down a

flood of summer heat and radiance, that rendered these cool shades

inexpressibly delightful. Pleasant was it, as the huntsmen leaped from

stone to stone, to listen to the sound of the waters rushing past them.

Pleasant as they sprang upon some green holm or fairy islet, standing in

the midst of the stream, and dividing its lucid waters, to suffer the

eye to follow the course of the rapid current, and to see it here

sparkling in the bright sunshine, there plunged in shade by the

overhanging trees--now fringed with osiers and rushes, now embanked with

smoothest sward of emerald green; anon defended by steep rocks,

sometimes bold and bare, but more frequently clothed with timber; then

sinking down by one of those sudden but exquisite transitions, which

nature alone dares display, from this savage and sombre character into

the softest and gentlest expression; every where varied, yet every where

beautiful.

Through such scenes of silvan loveliness had the huntsmen passed on

their way to the hollow oak, and they had ample leisure to enjoy them,

because the squire and his brother-in-law being engaged in conversation,

as before related, made frequent pauses, and, during these, the others

halted likewise; and even the hounds, glad of a respite, stood still, or

amused themselves by splashing about amid the shallows without any

definite object unless of cooling themselves. Then, as the leaders once

more moved forward, arose the cheering shout, the loud deep bay, the

clattering of staves, the crashing of branches, and all the other

inspiriting noises accompanying the progress of the hunt. But for some

minutes these had again ceased, and as Nicholas and Sherborne lingered

beneath the shade of a wide-spread beech-tree growing on a sandy hillock

near the stream, and seemed deeply interested in their talk--as well

they might, for it related to Alizon--the whole troop, including Fogg,

held respectfully aloof, and awaited their pleasure to go on.

The signal to move was, at length, given by the squire, who saw they

were now not more than a hundred yards from the bank on which stood the

hollow tree they were anxious to reach. As the river here made a turn,

and swept round the point in question, forming, owing to this

detention, the deep pool previously mentioned, the bank almost faced

them, and, as nothing intervened, they could almost look into the rift

near the base of the tree, forming, they supposed, the entrance to the

otter's couch. But, though this was easily distinguished, no traces of

the predatory animal could be seen; and though many sharp eyes were

fixed upon the spot during the prolonged discourse of the two gentlemen,

nothing had occurred to attract their attention, and to prove that the

object of their quest was really there.

After some little consultation between the squire and Crouch, it was

agreed that the former should alone force his way to the tree, while the

others were to station themselves with the hounds at various points of

the stream, above and below the bank, so that, if the otter and her

litter escaped their first assailant, they should infallibly perish by

the hands of some of the others. This being agreed upon, the plan was

instantly put into execution--two of the varlets remaining where they

were--two going higher up; while Sherborne and Fogg stationed themselves

on great stones in the middle of the stream, whence they could command

all around them, and Crouch, wading on with Grip, planted himself at the

entrance of Swanside Beck into the Ribble.

Meanwhile, the squire having scaled the bank, entered the thick covert

encircling it, and, not without some damage to his face and hands from

the numerous thorns and brambles growing amongst it, forced his way

upwards until he reached the bare space surrounding the hollow tree; and

this attained, his first business was to ascertain that all was in

readiness below before commencing the attack. A glance showed him on one

side old Crouch standing up to his middle in the beck, grasping his long

otter spear, and with Grip beating the water in front of him in anxious

expectation of employment; and in front Fogg, Sherborne, and two of the

varlets, with their hounds so disposed that they could immediately

advance upon the otter if it plunged into the river, while its passage

up or down would be stopped by their comrades. All this he discerned at

a glance; and comprehending from a sign made him by the old huntsman

that he should not delay, he advanced towards the tree, and was about to

plunge his spear into the hole, hoping to transfix one at least of its

occupants, when he was startled by hearing a deep voice apparently issue

from the hollows of the timber, bidding him "Beware!"

Nicholas recoiled aghast, for he thought it might be Hobthurst, or the

demon of the wood, who thus bespoke him.

"What accursed thing addresses me?" he said, standing on his guard.

"What is it? Speak!"

"Get hence, Nicholas Assheton," replied the voice; "an' meddle not wi'

them os meddles not wi' thee."

"Aha!" exclaimed the squire, recovering courage, for he thought this

did not sound like the language of a demon. "I am known am I? Why should

I go hence, and at whose bidding?"

"Ask neaw questions, mon, boh ge," replied the voice, "or it shan be

warse fo' thee. Ey am the boggart o' th' clough, an' if theaw bringst me

out, ey'n tear thee i' pieces wi' my claws, an' cast thee into t'

Ribble, so that thine own hounts shan eat thee up."

"Ha! say'st thou so, master boggart," cried Nicholas. "For a spirit,

thou usest the vernacular of the county fairly enough. But before trying

whether thy hide be proof against mortal weapons I command thee to come

forth and declare thyself, that I may judge what manner of thing thou

art."

"Thoud'st best lem me be, ey tell thee," replied the boggart gruffly.

"Ah! methinks I should know those accents," exclaimed the squire; "they

marvellously resemble the voice of an offender who has too long evaded

justice, and whom I have now fairly entrapped. Jem Device, thou art

known, lad, and if thou dost not surrender at discretion, I will strike

my spear through this rotten tree, and spit thee as I would the beast I

came in quest of."

"An' which yo wad more easily than me," retorted Jem. And suddenly

springing from the hole at the foot of the tree, he passed between the

squire's legs with great promptitude, and flinging him face foremost

upon the ground, crawled to the edge of the bank, and thence dropped

into the deep pool below.

The plunge roused all the spectators, who, though they had heard what

had passed, and had seen the squire upset in the manner described, had

been so much astounded that they could render no assistance; but they

now, one and all, bestirred themselves actively to seize the diver when

he should rise to the surface. But though every eye was on the look-out,

and every arm raised; though the hounds were as eager as their masters,

and yelling fiercely, swam round the pool, ready to pounce upon the

swimmer as upon a duck, all were disappointed; for, even after a longer

interval than their patience could brook, he did not appear.

By this time, Nicholas had regained his legs, and, infuriated by his

discomfiture, approached the edge of the bank, and peering down below,

hoped to detect the fugitive immediately beneath him, resolved to show

him no mercy when he caught him. But he was equally at fault with the

others, and after more than five minutes spent in ineffectual search, he

ordered Crouch to send Grip into the pool.

The old keeper replied that the dog was not used to this kind of chase,

and might not display his usual skill in it; but as the squire would

take no nay, he was obliged to consent, and the other hounds were called

off lest they should puzzle him. Twice did the shrewd lurcher swim round

the pool, sniffing the air, after which he approached the shore, and

scented close to the bank; still it was evident he could detect

nothing, and Nicholas began to despair, when the dog suddenly dived.

Expectation was then raised to the utmost, and all were on the watch

again, Nicholas leaning over the edge of the bank with his spear in

hand, prepared to strike; but the dog was so long in reappearing, that

all had given him up for lost, and his master was giving utterance to

ejaculations of grief and rage, and vowing vengeance against the

warlock, when Grip's grisly head was once more seen above the surface of

the water, and this time he had a piece of blue serge in his jaws,

proving that he had had hold of the raiments of the fugitive, and that

therefore the latter could not be far off, but had most probably got

into some hole beneath the bank.

No sooner was this notion suggested than it was acted on by the old

huntsman and Fogg, and, wading forward, they pricked the bank with their

spears at various points below the level of the water. All at once Fogg

fell forward. His spear had entered a hole, and had penetrated so deeply

that he had lost his balance. But though, soused over head and ears, he

had made a successful hit, for the next moment Jem Device appeared above

the water, and ere he could dive again his throat was seized by Grip,

and while struggling to free himself from the fangs of the tenacious

animal, he was laid hold of by Crouch, and the varlets rushing forward

to the latter's assistance, the ruffian was captured.

Some difficulty was experienced in rescuing the captive from the jaws of

the hounds, who, infuriated by his struggles, and perhaps mistaking him

for some strange beast of chase, made their sharp teeth meet in various

parts of his person, rending his garments from his limbs, and would no

doubt have rent the flesh also, if they had been permitted. At length,

after much fighting and struggling, mingled with yells and

vociferations, Jem was borne ashore, and flung on the ground, where he

presented a wretched spectacle; bleeding, half-drowned, and covered with

slime acquired during his occupation of the hole in the bank. But though

unable to offer further resistance, his spirit was not quelled, and his

eye glared terribly at his captors. Fearing they might have further

trouble with him when he recovered from his present exhausted condition,

Crouch had his hands bound tightly together with one of the dog leashes,

and then would fain have questioned him as to how he managed to breathe

in a hole below the level of the water; but Jem refused to satisfy his

curiosity, and returned only a sullen rejoinder to any questions

addressed to him, until the squire, who had crossed the river at some

stepping-stones lower down, came up, and the ruffian then inquired, in a

half-menacing tone, what he meant to do with him?

"What do I mean to do with you?" cried Nicholas. "I will tell you, lad.

I shall send you at once to Whalley to be examined before the

magistrates; and, as the proofs are pretty clear against you, you will

be forwarded without any material delay to Lancaster Castle."

"An yo winna rescue me by the way, os yo ha dun a sartin notorious witch

an murtheress!" replied Jem, fiercely. "Tak heed whot yo dun, squoire.

If ey speak at aw, ey shan speak out, and to some purpose, ey'n warrant

ye. If ey ge to Lonkester Castle, ey winna ge alone. Wan o' yer friends

shan ge wi' me."

"Cursed villain! I guess thy meaning," replied Nicholas; "but thy

vindictive purposes will be frustrated. No credence will be attached to

thy false charges; while, as to the lady thou aimest at, she is luckily

beyond reach of thy malice."

"Dunna be too sure o' that, squoire," replied Jem. "Ey con put t'

officers o' jestis os surely on her track os owd Crouch could set these

hounds on an otter. Lay yer account on it, ey winna dee unavenged."

"Heed him not," interposed Sherborne, seeing that the squire was shaken

by his threat, and taking him apart; "it will not do to let such a

villain escape. He can do you no injury, and as to Mistress Nutter, if

you know where she is, it will be easy to give her a hint to get out of

the way."

"I don't know that," replied Nicholas, thoughtfully.

"If ey might be so bowd os offer my advice, squoire," said old Crouch,

advancing towards his master, "ey'd tee a heavy stoan round the felly's

throttle, an chuck him into t' poo', an' he'n tell no teles fo' all his

bragging."

"That would silence him effectually, no doubt, Crouch," replied

Nicholas, laughing; "but a dog's death is too good for him, and besides

I am pretty sure his destiny is not drowning. No, no--at all risks he

shall go to Whalley. Harkee, Fogg," he added, beckoning that worthy to

him, "I commit the conduct and custody of the prisoner to you. Clap him

on a horse, get on another yourself, take these four varlets with you,

and deliver him into the hands of Sir Ralph Assheton, who will relieve

you of all further trouble and responsibility. But you may add this to

the baronet from me," he continued, in an under-tone. "I recommend him

to place under immediate arrest Elizabeth Device, the prisoner's mother,

and her daughter Jennet. You understand, Fogg--eh?"

"Perfectly," returned the other, with a somewhat singular look; "and

your instructions shall be fulfilled to the letter. Have you any thing

more to commit to me?"

"Only this," said Nicholas; "you may tell Sir Ralph that I propose to

sleep at the Abbey to-night. I shall ride over to Middleton in the

course of the day, to confer with Dick Assheton upon what has just

occurred, and get the money from him--the three hundred pounds, you

understand--and when my errand is done, I will turn bridle towards

Whalley. I shall return by Todmorden, and through the gorge of

Cliviger. You may as well tarry for me at the Abbey, for Sir Ralph will

be glad of thy company, and we can return together to Downham

to-morrow."

As the squire thus spoke, he noticed a singular sparkle in Fogg's

ill-set eyes; but he thought nothing of it at the time, though it

subsequently occurred to his recollection.

Meanwhile, the prisoner, finding no grace likely to be shown him,

shouted out to the squire, that if he were set free, he would make

certain important disclosures to him respecting Fogg, who was not what

he represented himself; but Nicholas treated the offer with disdain; and

the individual mainly interested in the matter, who appeared highly

incensed by Jem's malignity, cut a short peg by way of gag, and,

thrusting it into the ruffian's mouth, effectually checked any more

revelations on his part.

Fogg then ordered the varlets to bring on the prisoner; but as Jem

obstinately refused to move, they were under the necessity of taking him

on their shoulders, and transporting him in this manner to the stables,

where he was placed on a horse, as directed by the squire.

CHAPTER II.--THE PENITENT'S RETREAT.

Nicholas and Sherborne returned by a different road from that taken by

the others, and loitered so much by the way that they did not arrive at

the manor-house until the prisoner and his escort had set out. Probably

this was designed, as Nicholas seemed relieved when he learnt they were

gone. Having entered the house with his brother-in-law, and conducted

him to an apartment opening out of the hall, usually occupied by

Mistress Assheton, and where, in fact, they found that amiable lady

employed at her embroidery, he left Sherborne with her, and, making some

excuse for his own hasty retreat, betook himself to another part of the

house.

Mounting the principal staircase, which was of dark oak, with

richly-carved railing, he turned into a gallery communicating with the

sleeping apartments, and, after proceeding more than half-way down it,

halted before a door, which he unlocked, and entered a spacious but

evidently disused chamber, hung round with faded tapestry, and

containing a large gloomy-looking bedstead. Securing the door carefully

after him, Nicholas raised the hangings in one corner of the room, and

pressing against a spring, a sliding panel flew open. A screen was

placed within, so as to hide from view the inmate of the secret chamber,

and Nicholas, having coughed slightly, to announce his presence, and

received an answer in a low, melancholy female voice, stepped through

the aperture, and stood within a small closet.

It was tenanted by a lady, whose features and figure bore the strongest

marks of affliction. Her person was so attenuated that she looked little

more than a skeleton--her fingers were long and thin--her cheeks hollow

and deathly pale--her eyes lustreless and deep sunken in their

sockets--and her hair, once jetty as the raven's wing, prematurely

blanched. Such was the profound gloom stamped upon her countenance, that

it was impossible to look upon her without compassion; while, in spite

of her wo-begone looks, there was a noble character about her that

elevated the feeling into deep interest, blended with respect. She was

kneeling beside a small desk, with an open Bible laid upon it, which she

was intently studying when the squire appeared.

"Here is a terrible text for you, Nicholas," she said, regarding him,

mournfully. "Listen to it, and judge of its effect on me. Thus it is

written in Deuteronomy:--'There shall not be found among you any one

that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that

useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch.'

A witch, Nicholas--do you mark the word? And yet more particular is the

next verse, wherein it is said;--'Or a charmer, or a consulter with

familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer.' And then cometh the

denunciation of divine anger against such offenders in these awful

words:--'For all that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord:

and because of these abominations, the Lord thy God doth drive them out

from before thee.' Again, it is said in Leviticus, that 'the Lord

setteth his face against such, to cut them off.' And in Exodus, the law

is expressly laid down thus--'THOU SHALT NOT SUFFER A WITCH TO LIVE.'

There is no escape for her, you see. By the divine command she must

perish, and human justice must; carry out the decree. Nicholas, I am one

of the offenders thus denounced, thus condemned. I have practised

witchcraft, consulted with familiar spirits, and done other abominations

in the sight of Heaven; and I ought to pay the full penalty of my

offences."

"Do not, I beseech you, madam," replied the squire, "continue to take

this view of your case. However you have sinned, you have made amends by

the depth and sincerity of your repentance. Your days and nights--for

you allow yourself only such rest as nature forces on you, and take even

that most unwillingly--are passed in constant prayer. Your abstinence is

severer than any anchoress ever practised, for I am sure for the last

month you have not taken as much food altogether as I consume in a day;

while, not content with this, you perform acts of penance that afflict

me beyond measure to think upon, and which I have striven in vain to

induce you to forego. There will be no occasion to deliver yourself up

to justice, madam; for, if you go on thus, and do not deal with

yourself a little more mildly, your accounts with this world will be

speedily settled."

"And I should rejoice to think so, Nicholas," replied Mistress Nutter,

"if I had any hope in the world to come. But, alas! I have none. I

cannot, by any act of penitence and contrition, expiate my offences. My

soul is darkened by despair. I know I ought to give myself up--that

Heaven and man alike require my life, and I cannot reconcile myself to

avoiding my just doom."

"It is the Evil One who puts these thoughts into your head," replied

Nicholas, "and who fills your heart with promptings of despair, that he

may again obtain the mastery over it. But take a calmer and more

consolatory view of your condition. Human justice may require a public

sacrifice as an example, but Heaven, will be satisfied with contrition

in secret."

"I trust so," replied the lady, vainly striving to draw comfort from his

words. "Oh, Nicholas! you do not know the temptations I am exposed to in

this chamber--the difficulty I experience in keeping my thoughts fixed

on one object--the distractions I undergo--the mental obscurations--the

faintings of spirit--the bodily prostration--the terrors, the

inconceivable terrors, that assail me. Sometimes I wish my spirit would

flee away, and be at rest. Rest! there is none for me--none in the

grave--none beyond the grave--and therefore I am afraid of death, and

still more of the judgment after death! Man might inflict all the

tortures he could devise upon this poor frame. I would bear them all

with patience, with delight, if I thought they would purchase me

immunity hereafter! But with the dread conviction, the almost certainty,

that it will be otherwise, I can only look to the final consummation

with despair!"

"Again I tell you these suggestions are evil," said Nicholas. "The Son

of God, who sacrificed himself for man, and by whose atonement all

mankind hope for salvation, has assured us that the greatest sinner who

repents shall be forgiven, and, indeed, is more acceptable in the eyes

of Heaven than him who has never erred. Far be it from me to attempt to

exculpate you in your own eyes, or extenuate your former criminality.

You have sinned deeply, so deeply that you may well shrink aghast from

the contemplation of your past life--may well recoil in abhorrence from

yourself--and may fitly devote yourself to constant prayer and acts of

penitence. But having cast off your iniquity, and sincerely repented, I

bid you hope--I bid you place a confident reliance in the clemency of an

all-merciful power."

"You give me much comfort, Nicholas," said the lady, "and if tears of

blood can wash away my sin they shall be shed; but much as you know of

my wickedness, even you cannot conceive its extent. In my madness, for

it was nothing else, I cast off all hopes of heaven, renounced my

Redeemer, was baptised by the demon, and entered into a compact by

which--I shudder to speak it--my soul was surrendered to him."

"You placed yourself in fearful jeopardy, no doubt," rejoined Nicholas;

"but you have broken the contract in time, and an all righteous judge

will not permit the penalty of the bond to be exacted. Seeing your

penitence, Satan has relinquished all claim to your soul."

"I do not think it," replied the lady. "He will contest the point to the

last, and it is only at the last that it will be decided."

As she spoke, a sound like mocking laughter reached the ears of

Nicholas.

"Did you hear that?" demanded Mistress Nutter, in accents of wildest

terror. "He is ever on the watch. I knew it--I knew it."

Clasping her hands together, and fixing her looks on high she then

addressed the most fervent supplications to Heaven for deliverance from

evil, and erelong her troubled countenance began to resume its former

serenity, proving that the surest balm for a "mind diseased" is prayer.

Her example had been followed by Nicholas, who, greatly alarmed, had

dropped upon his knees likewise, and now arose with somewhat more

composure in his demeanour and aspect.

"I am sorry I do not bring you good news, madam," he said; "but Jem

Device has been arrested this morning, and as the fellow is greatly

exasperated against me, he threatens to betray your retreat to the

officers; and though he is, probably, unacquainted with it

notwithstanding his boasting, still he may cause search to be made, and,

therefore, I think you had better be removed to some other

hiding-place."

"Deliver me up without more ado, I pray you, Nicholas," said the lady.

"You know my resolution on that point, madam," he replied, "and,

therefore, it is idle to attempt to shake it. For your daughter's sake,

if not for your own, I will save you, in spite of yourself. You would

not fix a brand for ever on Alizon's name; you would not destroy her?"

"I would not," replied the wretched lady. "But have you heard from

her--have you seen her? Tell me, is she well and happy?"

"She is well, and would be happy, were it not for her anxiety about

you," replied Nicholas, evasively. "But for her sake--mine--your own--I

must urge you to seek some other place of refuge to night, for if you

are discovered here you will bring ruin on us all."

"I will no longer debate the point," replied Mistress Nutter. "Where

shall I go?"

"There is one place of absolute security, but I do not like to mention

it," replied Nicholas. "Yet still, as it will only be necessary to

remain for a day or two, till the search is over, when you can return

here, it cannot much matter."

"Where is it?" asked Mistress Nutter.

"Malkin Tower," answered the squire, with some hesitation.

"I will never go to that accursed place," cried the lady. "Send me hence

when you will--now, or at midnight--and let me seek shelter on the bleak

fells or on the desolate moors, but bid me not go there!"

"And yet it is the best and safest place for you," returned Nicholas,

somewhat testily; "and for this reason, that, being reputed to be

haunted, no one will venture to molest you. As to Mother Demdike, I

suppose you are not afraid of her ghost; and if the evil beings you

apprehend were able or inclined to do you mischief, they would not wait

till you got there to execute their purpose."

"True," said Mistress Nutter, "I was wrong to hesitate. I will go."

"You will be as safe there as here--ay, and safer," rejoined Nicholas,

"or I would not urge the retreat upon you. I am about to ride over to

Middleton this morning to see your daughter and Richard Assheton, and

shall sleep at Whalley, so that I shall not be able to accompany you to

the tower to-night; but old Crouch the huntsman shall be in waiting for

you, as soon as it grows dusk, in the summer-house, with which, as you

know, the secret staircase connected with this room communicates, and he

shall have a horse in readiness to take you, together with such matters

as you may require, to the place of refuge. Heaven guard you, madam!"

"Amen!" responded the lady.

"And now farewell!" said Nicholas. "I shall hope to see you back again

ere many days be gone, when your quietude will not again be disturbed."

So saying, he stepped back, and, passing through the panel, closed it

after him.

CHAPTER III.--MIDDLETON HALL.

Middleton Hall, the residence of Sir Richard Assheton, was a large

quadrangular structure, built entirely of timber, and painted externally

in black and white checker-work, fanciful and varied in design, in the

style peculiar to the better class of Tudor houses in South Lancashire

and Cheshire. Surrounded by a deep moat, supplied by a neighbouring

stream, and crossed by four drawbridges, each faced by a gateway, this

vast pile of building was divided into two spacious courts, one of which

contained the stables, barns, and offices, while the other was reserved

for the family and the guests by whom the hospitable mansion was almost

constantly crowded. In the last-mentioned part of the house was a great

gallery, with deeply embayed windows filled with painted glass, a floor

of polished oak, walls of the same dark lustrous material, hung with

portraits of stiff beauties, some in ruff and farthingale, and some in a

costume of an earlier period among whom was Margaret Barton, who brought

the manor of Middleton into the family; frowning warriors, beginning

with Sir Ralph Assheton, knight-marshal of England in the reign of

Edward IV., and surnamed "the black of Assheton-under-line," the founder

of the house, and husband of Margaret Barton before mentioned, and

ending with Sir Richard Assheton, grandfather of the present owner of

the mansion, and one of the heroes of Flodden; grave lawyers, or graver

divines--a likeness running through all, and showing they belonged to

one line--a huge carved mantelpiece, massive tables of walnut or oak,

and black and shining as ebony, set round with high-backed chairs. Here,

also, above stairs, there were long corridors looking out through

lattices upon the court, and communicating with the almost countless

dormitories; while, on the floor beneath, corresponding passages led to

all the principal chambers, and terminated in the grand entrance hall,

the roof of which being open and intersected by enormous rafters, and

crooks of oak, like the ribs of some "tall ammiral," was thought from

this circumstance, as well as from its form, to resemble "a ship turned

upside down." The lower beams were elaborately carved and ornamented

with gilded bosses and sculptured images, sustaining shields emblazoned

with the armorial bearings of the Asshetons. As many as three hundred

matchlocks, in good and serviceable condition, were ranged round the

entrance-hall, besides corselets, Almayne rivets, steel caps, and other

accoutrements; this stand of arms having been collected by Sir Richard's

predecessor, during the military muster made in the country in 1574,

when he had raised and equipped a troop of horse for Queen Elizabeth.

Outside the mansion was a garden, charmingly laid out in parterres and

walks, and not only carried to the edge of the moat, but continued

beyond it till it reached a high knoll crowned with beech-trees. A crest

of tall twisted chimneys, a high roof with quaintly carved gables,

surmounted by many gilt vanes, may serve to complete the picture of

Middleton Hall.

On a lovely summer evening, two young persons of opposite sexes were

seated on a bench placed at the foot of one of the largest and most

umbrageous of the beech-trees crowning the pleasant eminence before

mentioned; and though differing in aspect and character, the one being

excessively fair, with tresses as light and fleecy as the clouds above

them, and eyes as blue and tender as the skies--and the other

distinguished by great manly beauty, though in a totally different

style; still there was a sufficiently strong likeness between them, to

proclaim them brother and sister. Profound melancholy pervaded the

countenance of the young man, whose handsome brow was clouded by

care--while the girl, though sad, seemed so only from sympathy.

They were conversing together in deep and earnest tones, showing how

greatly they were interested; and, as they proceeded, many an

involuntary sigh was heaved by Richard Assheton, while a tear, more than

once, dimmed the brightness of his sister's eyes, and her hand sought by

its gentle pressure to re-assure him.