They were talking of Alizon, of her peculiar and distressing situation,

and of the young man's hopeless love for her. She was the general theme

of their discourse, for Richard's sole comfort was in pouring forth his

griefs into his sister's willing ear; but new causes of anxiety had been

given them by Nicholas, who had arrived that afternoon, bringing

intelligence of James Device's capture, and of his threats against

Mistress Nutter. The squire had only just departed, having succeeded in

the twofold object of his visit--which was, firstly, to borrow three

hundred pounds from his cousin--and, secondly, to induce him to attend

the meeting at Hoghton Tower. With the first request Richard willingly

complied, and he assented, though with some reluctance, to the second,

provided nothing of serious moment should occur in the interim. Nicholas

tried to rally him on his despondency, endeavouring to convince him all

would come right in time, and that his misgivings were causeless; but

his arguments were ineffectual, and he was soon compelled to desist. The

squire would fain also have seen Alizon, but, understanding she always

remained secluded in her chamber till eventide, he did not press the

point. Richard urged him to stay over the night, alleging the length of

the ride, and the speedy approach of evening, as inducements to him to

remain; but on this score the squire was resolute--and having carefully

secured the large sum of money he had obtained beneath his doublet, he

mounted his favourite steed, Robin, who seemed as fresh as if he had not

achieved upwards of thirty miles that morning, and rode off.

Richard watched him cross the drawbridge, and take the road towards

Rochdale, and, after exchanging a farewell wave of the hand with him,

returned to the hall and sought out his sister.

Dorothy was easily persuaded to take a turn in the garden with her

brother, and during their walk he confided to her all he had heard from

Nicholas. Her alarm at Jem Device's threat was much greater than his

own; and, though she entertained a strong and unconquerable aversion to

Mistress Nutter, and could not be brought to believe in the sincerity of

her penitence, still, for Alizon's sake, she dreaded lest any harm

should befall her, and more particularly desired to avoid the disgrace

which would be inflicted by a public execution. Alizon she was sure

would not survive such a catastrophe, and therefore, at all risks, it

must be averted.

Richard did not share, to the same extent, in her apprehensions, because

he had been assured by Nicholas that Mistress Nutter would be removed to

a place of perfect security, and because he was disposed, with the

squire, to regard the prisoner's threats as mere ravings of impotent

malice. Still he could not help feeling great uneasiness. Vague fears,

too, beset him, which he found it in vain to shake off, but he did not

communicate them to his sister, as he knew the terrifying effect they

would have upon her timid nature; and he, therefore, kept the mental

anguish he endured to himself, hoping erelong it would diminish in

intensity. But in this he was deceived, for, instead of abating, his

gloom and depression momently increased.

Almost unconsciously, Richard and his sister had quitted the garden,

proceeding with slow and melancholy steps to the beech-crowned knoll.

The seat they had chosen was a favourite one with Alizon, and she came

thither on most evenings, either accompanied by Dorothy or alone. Here

it was that Richard had more than once passionately besought her to

become his bride, receiving on both occasions a same meek yet firm

refusal. To Dorothy also, who pleaded her brother's cause with all the

eloquence and fervour of which she was mistress, Alizon replied that her

affections were fixed upon Richard; but that, while her mother lived,

and needed her constant prayers, they must not be withheld; and that,

looking upon any earthly passion as a criminal interference with this

paramount duty, she did not dare to indulge it. Dorothy represented to

her that the sacrifice was greater than she was called upon to make,

that her health was visibly declining, and that she might fall a victim

to her over-zeal; but Alizon was deaf to her remonstrances, as she had

been to the entreaties of Richard.

With hearts less burthened, the contemplation of the scene before them

could not have failed to give delight to Richard and his sister, and,

even amid the adverse circumstances under which it was viewed, its

beauty and tranquillity produced a soothing influence.

Evening was gradually stealing on, and all the exquisite tints marking

that delightful hour, were spreading over the landscape. The sun was

setting gorgeously, and a flood of radiance fell upon the old mansion

beneath them, and upon the grey and venerable church, situated on a hill

adjoining it. The sounds were all in unison with the hour, and the

lowing of cattle, the voices of the husbandmen returning from their

work, mingled with the cawing of the rooks newly alighted on the high

trees near the church, told them that bird, man, and beast were seeking

their home for the night. But though Richard's eye dwelt upon the fair

garden beneath him, embracing all its terraces, green slopes, and trim

pastures; though it fell upon the moat belting the hall like a

glittering zone; though it rested upon the church tower; and, roaming

over the park beyond it, finally settled upon the range of hills

bounding the horizon, which have not inaptly been termed the English

Apennines; though he saw all these things, he thought not of them,

neither was he conscious of the sounds that met his ear, and which all

spoke of rest from labour, and peace. Darker and deeper grew his

melancholy. He began to persuade himself he was not long for this world;

and, while gazing upon the beautiful prospect before him, was perhaps

looking upon it for the last time.

For some minutes Dorothy watched him anxiously, and at last receiving no

answer to her questions, and alarmed by the expression of his

countenance, she flung her arms round his neck, and burst into tears. It

was now Richard's turn to console her, and he inquired with much anxiety

as to the cause of this sudden outburst of grief.

"You yourself are the cause of it, dear Richard," replied Dorothy,

regarding him with brimming eyes; "I cannot bear to see you so unhappy.

If you suffer this melancholy to grow upon you, it will affect both mind

and body. Just now your countenance wore an expression most distressing

to look upon. Try to smile, dear Richard, if only to cheer me, or else I

shall grow as sad as you. Ah, me! I have known the day, and not long

since either, when on a pleasant summer evening like this you would

propose a stroll into the park with me; and, when there, would trip

along the glades as fleetly as a deer, and defy me to catch you. But you

always took care I should, though--ha! ha! Come, there is a little

attempt at a smile. That's something. You look more like yourself now.

How happy we used to be in those days, to be sure!--and how merry! You

would make the courts ring with your blithe laughter, and wellnigh kill

me with your jests. If love is to make one mope like an owl, and sigh

like the wind through a half-shut casement; if it is to cause one to

lose one's rosy complexion and gay spirit, and forget how to dance and

sing--take no pleasure in hawking and hunting, or any kind of

sport--walk about with eyes fixed upon the ground, muttering, and with

disordered attire--if it is to make one silent when one should be

talkative, grave when one should be gay, heedless when one should

listen--if it is to do all this, defend me from the tender passion! I

hope I shall never fall in love."

"I hope you never will, dear Dorothy," replied Richard, pressing her

hand affectionately, "if your love is to be attended with such unhappy

results as mine. I know not how it is, but I feel unusually despondent

this evening, and am haunted by a thousand dismal fancies. But I will do

my best to dismiss them, and with your help no doubt I shall succeed."

"There!--there was a smile in earnest!" cried Dorothy, brightening up.

"Oh, Richard! I am quite happy now. And after all I do not see why you

should take such a gloomy view of things. I have no doubt there is a

great deal, a very great deal, of happiness in store for you and

Alizon--I must couple her name with yours, or you will not allow it to

be happiness--if you can only be brought to think so. I am quite sure of

it; and you shall see how nicely I can make the matter out. As thus.

Mistress Nutter is certain to die soon--such a wicked woman cannot live

long. Don't be angry with me for calling her wicked, Richard; but you

know I never can forget her unhallowed proceedings in the convent church

at Whalley, where I was so nearly becoming a witch myself. Well, as I

was saying, she cannot live long, and when she goes--and Heaven grant it

may be soon!--Alizon, no doubt, will mourn for her though I shall not,

and after a decent interval--then, Richard, then she will no longer say

you nay, but will make you happy as your wife. Nay, do not look so sad

again, dear brother. I thought I should make you quite cheerful by the

picture I was drawing."

"It is because I fear it will never be realized that I am sad, Dorothy,"

replied Richard. "My own anticipations are the opposite of yours, and

paint Alizon sinking into an early grave before her mother; while as to

myself, if such be the case, I shall not long survive her."

"Nay, now you will make me weep again," cried Dorothy, her tears flowing

afresh. "But I will not allow you to indulge such gloomy ideas, Richard.

If I seriously thought Mistress Nutter likely to occasion all this fresh

mischief, I would cause her to be delivered up to justice, and hanged

out of the way. You may look cross at me, but I would. What is an old

witch like her, compared with two young handsome persons, dying for love

of each other, and yet not able to marry on her account?"

"Dorothy, Dorothy, you must put some restraint on your tongue," said

Richard; "you give it sadly too much licence. You forget it is the wish

of the unhappy lady you refer to, to expiate her offences at the stake,

and that it is only out of consideration to her daughter that she has

been induced to remain in concealment. What will be the issue of it all,

I dare scarcely conjecture. Wo to her, I fear! Wo to Alizon! Wo to me!"

"Alas! Richard, that you should link yourself to her fate!" exclaimed

Dorothy, half mournfully, half reproachfully.

"I cannot help it," he replied. "It is my destiny--a deplorable destiny,

if you will--but not to be avoided. That Mistress Nutter will escape the

consequences of her crimes, I can scarcely believe. Her penitence is

profound and sincere, and that is a great consolation; for I trust she

will not perish, body and soul. I should wish her to have some spiritual

assistance, but this Nicholas will not for the present permit, alleging

that no churchman would consent to screen her from justice when he

became aware, as he must by her confession, of the nature and magnitude

of her offences. This may be true; but when the wretches who have been

leagued with her in iniquity are disposed of, the reason will no longer

exist, and I will see that she is cared for. But, apart from her mother,

I have another source of anxiety respecting Alizon. It is this: orders

have been this day given for the arrest of Elizabeth Device and her

daughter, Jennet, and Alizon will be the chief witness against them.

This will be a great trouble to her."

"Undoubtedly," rejoined Dorothy, with much concern. "But can it not be

avoided?"

"I fear not," said Richard, "and I blamed Nicholas much for his

precipitancy in giving the order; but he replied he had been held up

latterly as a favourer of witches, and must endeavour to redeem his

character by a display of severity. Were it not for Alizon, I should

rejoice that the noxious brood should at last be utterly exterminated."

"And so should I, in good sooth," responded Dorothy. "As to Elizabeth

Device, she is bad enough for any thing, and capable of almost any

mischief: but she is nothing to Jennet, who, I am persuaded, would

become a second Mother Demdike if her career were not cut short. You

have seen the child, and know what an ill-favoured, deformed little

creature she is, with round high shoulders, eyes set strangely in her

face, and such a malicious expression--oh! I shudder to think of it."

And she covered her face with her hands, as if to shut out some

unpleasant object.

"Poor, predestined child of sin, branded by nature from her birth, and

charged with wicked passions, as the snake with venom, I cannot but pity

her!" exclaimed Richard. "Compassion is entirely thrown away," he added,

with a sudden change of manner, and as if trying to shake off a

weakness. "The poisonous fruit must, however, be nipped in the bud.

Better she should perish now, even though comparatively guiltless, than

hereafter with a soul stained with crime, like her mother."

As he concluded, he put his hand quickly to his side, for a sharp and

sudden pang shot through his heart; and so acute was the pain, that,

after struggling against it for a moment, he groaned deeply, and would

have fallen, if his sister, greatly alarmed, and with difficulty

repressing a scream, had not lent him support.

Neither of them were aware of the presence of a little girl, who had

approached the place where they were sitting, with footsteps so light

that the grass scarcely seemed to bend beneath them, and who, ensconcing

herself behind the tree, drank in their discourse with eager ears. She

was attended by a large black cat, who, climbing the tree, placed

himself on a bough above her.

During the latter part of the conversation, and when it turned upon the

arrest of Jennet and her mother, the expression of the child's

countenance, malicious enough to begin with, became desperately

malignant, and she was only restrained by certain signs from the cat,

which appeared to be intelligible to her, from some act of mischief. At

last even this failed, and before the animal could descend and check

her, she crept round the bole of the tree, so as to bring herself close

to Richard, and muttering a spell, made one or two passes behind his

back, touched him with the point of her finger, but so lightly that he

was unconscious of the pressure, and then hastily retreated with the

cat, who glared furiously at her from his flaming orbs.

It was at the moment she touched him that Richard felt as if an arrow

were quivering in his heart.

Poor Dorothy's alarm was so great that she could not even scream for

assistance, and she feared, if she quitted her brother, he would expire

before her return; but the agony, though great, was speedily over, and

as the spasm ceased, he looked up, and, with a faint smile, strove to

re-assure her.

"Do not be alarmed," he said; "it is nothing--a momentary

faintness--that is all."

But the damp upon his brow, and the deathly hue of his cheek,

contradicted the assertion, and showed how much he had endured. "It was

more than momentary faintness, dear Richard," replied Dorothy. "It was a

frightful seizure--so frightful that I almost feared; but no matter--you

know I am easily alarmed. Thank God! here is some colour coming into

your cheeks. You are better now, I see. Lean upon me, and let us return

to the house."

"I can walk unassisted," said Richard, rising with an effort.

"Do not despise my feeble aid," replied Dorothy, taking his arm under

her own. "You will be quite well soon."

"I am quite well now," said Richard, halting after he had advanced a few

paces, "The attack is altogether passed. Do you not see Alizon coming

towards us? Not a word of this sudden seizure to her. Do you mind,

Dorothy?"

Alizon was soon close behind them, and though, in obedience to Richard's

injunctions, no allusion was made to his recent illness, she at once

perceived he was suffering greatly, and with much solicitude inquired

into the cause. Richard avoided giving a direct answer, and, immediately

entering upon Nicholas's visit, tried to divert her attention from

himself.

So great a change had been wrought in Alizon's appearance and manner

during the last few weeks, that she could scarcely be recognised. Still

beautiful as ever, her beauty had lost its earthly character, and had

become in the highest degree spiritualised and refined. Humility of

deportment and resignation of look, blended with an expression of

religious fervour, gave her the appearance of one of the early martyrs.

Unremitting ardour in the pursuance of her devotional exercises by day,

and long vigils at night, had worn down her frame, and robbed it of some

of its grace and fulness of outline; but this attenuation had a charm of

its own, and gave a touching interest to her figure, which was wanting

before. If her check was thinner and paler, her eyes looked larger and

brighter, and more akin to the stars in splendour; and if she appeared

less childlike, less joyous, less free from care, the want of these

qualities was more than counterbalanced by increased gentleness,

resignation, and serenity.

Deeply interested in all Richard told her of her mother, she was greatly

concerned to hear of the intended arrest of Elizabeth and Jennet Device,

especially the latter. For this unhappy and misguided child she had once

entertained the affection of a sister, and it could not but be a source

of grief to her to reflect upon her probable fate.

Little more passed between them, for Richard, feeling his strength again

fail him, was anxious to reach the house, and Dorothy was quite unequal

to conversation. They parted at the door, and as Alizon, after taking

leave of her friends, turned to continue her walk in the garden, Richard

staggered into the entrance-hall, and sank upon a chair.

Alizon desired to be alone, for she did not wish to have a witness to

the grief that overpowered her, and which, when she had gained a retired

part of the garden, where she supposed herself free from all

observation, found relief in a flood of tears.

For some minutes she was a prey to violent and irrepressible emotion,

and had scarcely regained a show of composure, when she heard herself

addressed, as she thought, in the voice of the very child whose unlucky

fate she was deploring. Looking round in surprise, and seeing no one,

she began to think fancy must have cheated her, when a low malicious

laugh, arising from a shrubbery near her, convinced her that Jennet was

hidden there. And the next moment the little girl stepped from out the

trees.

Alizon's first impulse was to catch the child in her arms, and press her

to her bosom; but there was something in Jennet's look that deterred

her, and so embarrassed her, that she was unable to bestow upon her the

ordinary greeting of affection, or even approach her.

Jennet seemed to enjoy her confusion, and laughed spitefully.

"Yo dunna seem ower glad to see me, sister Alizon," said Jennet, at

length.

"_Sister_ Alizon!" There was something in the term that now jarred upon

the young girl's ears, but she strove to conquer the feeling, as

unworthy of her.

"She was once my sister," she thought, "and shall be so still. I will

save her, if it be possible." "Jennet," she added aloud, "I know not

what chance brings you here, and though I may not give you the welcome

you expect, I am rejoiced to see you, because I may be the means of

serving you. Do not be alarmed at what I am going to tell you. The

danger I hope is passed, or at all events may be avoided. Your liberty

is threatened, and at the very moment I see you here I was lamenting

your supposed condition as a prisoner."

Jennet laughed louder and more spitefully than before, and looked so

like a little fury that Alizon's blood ran cold at the sight of it.

"Ey knoa it aw, sister Alizon," she cried, "an that is why ey ha cum'd

here. Brother Jem is a pris'ner i' Whalley Abbey. Mother is a pris'ner

theere, too. An ey should ha kept em company, if Tib hadna brought me

off. Now, listen to me, Alizon, fo' this is my bus'ness wi' yo. Yo mun

get mother an Jem out to-neet--eigh, to-neet. Yo con do it, if yo win.

An onless yo do--boh ey winna threaten till ey get yer answer."

"How am I to set them free?" asked Alizon, greatly alarmed.

"Yo need only say the word to young Ruchot Assheton, an the job's done,"

replied Jennet.

"I refuse--positively refuse to do so!" rejoined Alizon, indignantly.

"Varry weel," cried Jennet, with a look of concentrated malice and fury;

"then tak the consequences. They win be ta'en to Lonkester Castle, an

lose their lives theere. Bo ye shan go, too--ay, an be brunt os a

witch--a witch--d'ye mark, wench? eh!"

"I defy your malice!" cried Alizon.

"Defy me!" screamed Jennet. "What, ho! Tib!"

And at the call the huge black cat sprang from out the shrubbery.

"Tear her flesh from her bones!" cried the little girl, pointing to

Alizon, and stamping furiously on the ground.

Tib erected his back, and glared like a tiger, but he seemed unwilling

or unable to obey the order.

Alizon, who had completely recovered her courage, regarded him fixedly,

and apparently without terror.

"Whoy dusna seize her, an tear her i' pieces?" cried the infuriated

child.

"He dares not--he has no power over me," said Alizon. "Oh, Jennet! cast

him off. Your wicked agent appears to befriend you now, but he will lead

you to certain destruction. Come with me, and I will save you."

"Off!" cried Jennet, repelling her with furious gestures. "Off! ey winna

ge wi' ye. Ey winna be saved, os yo term it. Ey hate yo more than ever,

an wad strike yo dead at my feet, if ey could. Boh as ey conna do it, ey

win find some other means o' injurin' ye. Soh look to yersel, proud

ledy--look to yersel? Ey ha already smitten you in a place where ye win

feel it sore, an ey win repeat the blow. Ey now leave yo, boh we shan

meet again. Come along, Tib!"

So saying, she sprang into the shrubbery, followed by the cat, leaving

Alizon appalled by her frightful malignity.

[Illustration: ALIZON DEFIES JENNET.]

CHAPTER IV.--THE GORGE OF CLIVIGER.

The sun had already set as Nicholas Assheton reached Todmorden, then a

very small village indeed, and alighting at a little inn near the

church, found the ale so good, and so many boon companions assembled to

discuss it, that he would fain have tarried with them for an hour or so;

but prudence, for once, getting the better of inclination, and

suggesting that he had fifteen or sixteen miles still to ride, over a

rough and lonely road, part of which lay through the gorge of Cliviger,

a long and solitary pass among the English Apennines, and, moreover, had

a large sum of money about him, he tore himself away by a great effort.

On quitting the smiling valley of Todmorden, and drawing near the

dangerous defile before mentioned, some misgivings crossed him, and he

almost reproached himself with foolhardiness in venturing within it at

such an hour, and wholly unattended. Several recent cases of robbery,

some of them attended by murder, had occurred within the pass; and these

now occurred so forcibly to the squire, that he was half inclined to

ride back to Todmorden, and engage two or three of the topers he had

left at the inn to serve him as an escort as far as Burnley, but he

dismissed the idea almost as soon as formed, and, casting one look at

the green and woody slopes around him, struck spurs into Robin, and

dashed into the gorge.

On the right towered a precipice, on the bare crest of which stood a

heap of stones piled like a column--the remains, probably, of a cairn.

On this commanding point Nicholas perceived a female figure, dilated to

gigantic proportions against the sky, who, as far as he could

distinguish, seemed watching him, and making signs to him, apparently to

go back; but he paid little regard to them, and soon afterwards lost

sight of her.

Precipitous and almost inaccessible rocks, of every variety of form and

hue; some springing perpendicularly up like the spire of a church,

others running along in broken ridges, or presenting the appearance of

high embattled walls; here riven into deep gullies, there opening into

wild savage glens, fit spots for robber ambuscade; now presenting a fair

smooth surface, now jagged, shattered, shelving, roughened with

brushwood; sometimes bleached and hoary, as in the case of the pinnacled

crag called the White Kirk; sometimes green with moss or grey with

lichen; sometimes, though but rarely, shaded with timber, as in the

approach to the cavern named the Earl's Bower; but generally bold and

naked, and sombre in tint as the colours employed by the savage Rosa.

Such were the distinguishing features of the gorge of Cliviger when

Nicholas traversed it. Now the high embankments and mighty arches of a

railway fill up its recesses and span its gullies; the roar of the

engine is heard where the cry of the bird of prey alone resounded; and

clouds of steam usurp the place of the mist-wreaths on its crags.

Formerly, the high cliffs abounded with hawks; the rocks echoed with

their yells and screeches, and the spots adjoining their nests

resembled, in the words of the historian of the district, Whitaker,

"little charnel-houses for the bones of game." Formerly, also, on some

inaccessible point built the rock-eagle, and reared its brood from year

to year. The gaunt wolf had once ravaged the glens, and the sly fox and

fierce cat-a-mountain still harboured within them. Nor were those the

only objects of dread. The superstitious declared the gorge was haunted

by a frightful, hirsute demon, yclept Hobthurst.

The general savage character of the ravine was relieved by some spots of

exquisite beauty, where the traveller might have lingered with delight,

if apprehension of assault from robber, or visit from Hobthurst, had not

urged him on. Numberless waterfalls, gushing from fissures in the hills,

coursed down their seamy sides, looking like threads of silver as they

sprang from point to point. One of the most beautiful of these cascades,

issuing from a gully in the rocks near the cavern called the Earl's

Bower, fell, in rainy seasons, in one unbroken sheet of a hundred and

fifty feet. Through the midst of the gorge ran a swift and brawling

stream, known by the appellation of the Calder; but it must not be

confounded with the river flowing past Whalley Abbey. The course of this

impetuous current was not always restrained within its rocky channel,

and when swollen by heavy rains, it would frequently invade the narrow

causeway running beside it, and, spreading over the whole width of the

gorge, render the road almost impassable.

Through this rocky and sombre defile, and by the side of the brawling

Calder, which dashed swiftly past him, Nicholas took his way. The hawks

were yelling overhead; the rooks were cawing on the topmost branches of

some tall timber, on which they built; a raven was croaking lustily in

the wood; and a pair of eagles were soaring in the still glowing sky.

By-and-by, the glen contracted, and a wall of steep rocks on either side

hemmed the shuddering traveller in. Instinctively, he struck spurs into

his horse, and accelerated his pace.

The narrow glen expands, the precipices fall further back, and the

traveller breathes more freely. Still, he does not relax his speed, for

his imagination has been at work in the gloom, peopling his path with

lurking robbers or grinning boggarts. He begins to fear he shall lose

his gold, and execrates his folly for incurring such heedless risk. But

it is too late now to turn back.

It grows rapidly dusk, and objects became less and less distinct,

assuming fantastical and fearful forms. A blasted tree, clinging to a

rock, and thrusting a bare branch across the road, looks to the squire

like a bandit; and a white owl bursting from a bush, scares him as if it

had been Hobthurst himself. However, in spite of these and other alarms,

for which he is indebted to excited fancy, he hurries on, and is

proceeding at a thundering pace, when all at once his horse comes to a

stop, arrested by a tall female figure, resembling that seen near the

mountain cairn at the entrance of the gorge.

Nicholas's blood ran cold, for though in this case he could not

apprehend plunder, he was fearful of personal injury, for he believed

the woman to be a witch. Mustering up courage, however, he forced Robin

to proceed.

If his progress was meant to be barred, a better spot for the purpose

could not have been selected. A narrow road, scarcely two feet in width,

ran round the ledge of a tremendous crag, jutting so far into the glen

that it almost met the steep barrier of rocks opposite it. Between these

precipitous crags dashed the river in a foaming cascade, nearly twelve

feet in height, and the steep narrow causeway winding beside it, as

above described, was rendered excessively slippery and dangerous from

the constant cloud of spray arising from the fall.

At the highest and narrowest point of the ledge, and occupying nearly

the whole of its space, with an overhanging rock on one side of her, and

a roaring torrent on the other, stood the tall woman, determined

apparently, from her attitude and deportment, to oppose the squire's

further progress. As Nicholas advanced, he became convinced that it was

the same person he had seen near the cairn; but, when her features grew

distinguishable, he found to his surprise that it was Nance Redferne.

"Halloa! Nance," he cried. "What are you doing here, lass, eh?"

"Cum to warn ye, squoire," she replied; "yo once did me a sarvice, an ey

hanna forgetten it. That's why I watched ye fro' the cairn cliffs, an

motioned ye to ge back. Boh ye didna onderstand my signs, or wouldna

heed 'em, so ey be cum'd here to stay ye. Yo're i' dawnger, ey tell ye."

"In danger of what, my good woman?" demanded the squire uneasily.

"O' bein' robbed, and plundered o' your gowd," replied Nance; "there are

five men waitin' to set upon ye a mile further on, at the Bowder

Stoans."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Nicholas; "they will get little for their pains. I

have no money about me."

"Dunna think to deceive me, squoire," rejoined Nance; "ey knoa yo ha

borrowed three hundert punds i' gowd fro' yung Ruchot Assheton; an os

surely os ye ha it aw under your jerkin, so surely win yo lose it, if yo

dunna turn back, or ge on without me keepin' ye company."

"I have no objection on earth to your company, Nance," replied the

squire; "quite the contrary. But how the devil should these rascals

expect me? And, above all, how should they conjecture I should come so

well provided? For, sooth to say, such is not ordinarily the case with

me."

"Ey knoa it weel, squoire," replied Nance, with a laugh; boh they ha

received sartin information o' your movements."

"There is only one person who could give them such information," cried

Nicholas; "but I cannot, will not suspect him."

"If yor're thinkin' o' Lawrence Fogg, yo're na far wide o' th' mark,

squoire," replied Nance.

"What! Fogg leagued with robbers--impossible!" exclaimed Nicholas.

"Neaw, it's nah so unpossible os aw that," returned Nance; "yo 'n stare

when ey tell yo he has robbed yo mony a time without your being aware on

it. Yo were onwise enough to send him round to your friends to borrow

money for yo."

"True, so I was. But, luckily, no one would lend me any," said Nicholas.

"There yo're wrong, squoire--fo' unluckily they aw did," replied Nance,

with a scarcely-suppressed laugh. "Roger Nowell gied him one hundred;

Tummus Whitaker of Holme, another; Ruchot Parker o' Browsholme, another.

An more i' th' same way."

"And the rascal pocketed it all, and never brought me back one

farthing," cried Nicholas, in a transport of rage. "I'll have him

hanged--pshaw! hanging's too good for him. To deceive me, his friend,

his benefactor, his patron, in such a manner; to dwell in my house, eat

at my table, drink my wine, wear my habiliments, ride my horses, hunt

with my hounds! Has the dog no conscience?"

"Varry little, ey'm afear'd," replied Nance.

"And the worst of it is," continued the squire--new lights breaking upon

him, "I shall be liable for all the sums he has received. He was my

confidential agent, and the lenders will come upon me. It must be six or

seven hundred pounds that he has obtained in this nefarious way. Zounds!

I shall go mad."

"Yo wur to blame fo' trustin him, squoire," rejoined Nance. "Yo ought to

ha' made proper inquiries about him at first, an then yo'd ha' found out

what sort o' chap he wur. Boh now ey'n tell ye. Lawrence Fogg is chief

o' a band o' robbers, an aw the black an villanous deeds done of late i'

this place, ha' been parpetrated by his men. A poor gentleman wur

murdert by 'em i' this varry spot th' week efore last, an his body cast

into t' river. Fogg, of course, had no hont in the fow deed, boh he

would na ha interfered to prevent it if he had bin here, fo' he never

scrupled shedding blood. An if he had bin content wi' robbin' yo,

squoire, ey wadna ha betrayed him; boh when he proposed to cut your

throttle, bekose, os he said, dead men tell neaw teles, ey could howd

out nah longer, an resolved to gi' yo warnin."

"What a monstrous and unheard-of villain!" cried the squire. "But is he

one of the ambuscade?"

Nance replied in the affirmative.

"Then, by heaven! I will confront him--I will hew him down," pursued

Nicholas, griping the hilt of his sword.

"Neaw use, ey tell ye--yo'n be overpowert an kilt," said Nance. "Tak me

wi' yo, an ey'n carry yo safely through em aw; boh ge alone, or yo'n

ne'er see Downham again. An now it's reet ey should tell ye who Lawrence

Fogg really is."

"What new wonder is in store for me?" cried Nicholas. "Who is he?"

"Maybe yo ha heerd tell that Mother Demdike had a son and a dowter,"

replied Nance; "the dowter bein', of course, Elizabeth Device; and the

son, Christopher Demdike, being supposed to be dead. Howsomever, this is

not the case, for Lawrence Fogg is he."

"I guessed as much when you began," cried Nicholas. "He has a cursedly

bad look about the eyes--a damned Demdike physiognomy. What an infernal

villain the fellow must be! without a jot of natural feeling. Why, he

has this very day assisted at his nephew's capture, and caused his own

sister to be arrested. Oh, I have been properly duped! To lodge a son of

that infernal hag in my house--feed him, clothe him, make him my

friend--take him, the viper! to my bosom! I have been rightly served.

But he shall hang!--he shall hang! That is some consolation, though

slight. But how do you know all this, Nance?"

"Dunna ax me," she replied. "Whatever ey ha' been to Christopher

Demdike, ey bear him neaw love now; fo', as ey ha towd yo, he is a

black-hearted murtherin' villain. Boh lemme get up behind yo, an ey'n

bring yo through scatheless. An to-morrow yo may arrest the whole band

at Malkin Tower."

"Malkin Tower!" exclaimed the squire, in fresh surprise. "What, have

these robbers taken up their quarters there? This accounts for all the

strange sights said to have been seen there of late, and which I treated

as mere fables. But, ah! a terrible thought crosses me. What have I

done? Mistress Nutter will be there to-night. And I have sent her. Death

and destruction! she will fall into their hands. I must go there at

once. I cannot take any assistance with me. That would betray the poor

lady."

"If yo'n trust me, ey'n help yo through the difficulty," replied Nance.

"Get up then quickly, lass, since it must be so," rejoined Nicholas.

With this he moved forward, and giving her his hand, she was instantly

seated behind him upon Robin, who seemed no way incommoded by his double

burthen, but dashed down the further side of the causeway, in answer to

a sharp application of the spur. Passing her arms round the squire's

waist, Nance maintained her seat well; and in this way they rattled

along, heedless of the increasing difficulties of the road, or the

fast-gathering gloom.

The mile was quickly passed, and Nance whispered in the squire's ear

that they were approaching the Boulder Stones. Presently they came to a

narrow glen, half-filled with huge rocky fragments, detached from the

toppling precipices on either side, and forming an admirable place of

ambuscade. One rock, larger than the rest, completely commanded the

pass, and, as the squire advanced, a thundering voice from it called to

him to stay; and the injunction being disregarded, the barrel of a gun

was protruded from the bushes covering its brow, and a shot fired at

him. Though well aimed, the ball struck the ground beneath his horse's

feet, and Nicholas continued his way unmoved, while the faulty marksman

jumped down the crag. At the same time four other men started from their

places of concealment behind the stones, and, levelling their calivers

at the fugitives, fired. The sharp discharges echoed along the gorge,

and the shots rattled against the rocks, but none of them took effect,

and Nicholas might have gone on without further hindrance; but, despite

Nance's remonstrances, who urged him to go on, he pulled up to await the

coming of the person who had first challenged him. Scarcely an instant

elapsed before he was beside the squire, and presented a petronel at his

head. Notwithstanding the gloom, Nicholas recognised him.

"Ah! is it thou, accursed traitor?" cried Nicholas. "I could scarcely

believe in thy villainy, but now I am convinced."

"The jade you have got behind you has told you who I am, I see," replied

Fogg. "I will settle with her anon. But this will save further

explanations with you!"

And he discharged the petronel full at the squire. But the ball

rebounded, as if his doublet had been quilted. It was in fact lined with

gold. On seeing the squire unhurt, the robber captain uttered an

exclamation of rage and astonishment.

"You are mistaken, you see, perfidious villain," cried Nicholas. "You

have yet to render an account of all the wrongs you have done me, but

meantime you shall not pass unpunished."

And as he spoke, he snatched the petronel from Fogg, and with the

but-end dealt him a tremendous blow on the head, felling him to the

ground.

By this time the other robbers had descended from the rocks, and, seeing

the fall of their leader, rushed forward to avenge him, but Nicholas did

not tarry for any further encounter; but, fully satisfied with what he

had done, struck spurs into Robin, and galloped off. For a few minutes

he could hear the shouts of the men, but they soon afterwards died away.

Little more than half the ravine had been traversed when the rencounter

above described took place; but, though the road was still difficult and

dangerous, and rendered doubly so by the obscurity, no further hindrance

occurred till just as Nicholas was quitting the gloomy intricacies of

the gorge, and approaching the more open country beyond it. At this

point Robin fell, throwing both him and Nance, and when the animal rose

again he was found to be so much injured that it was impossible to mount

him. There was no resource but to proceed to Burnley, which was still

three or four miles distant, on foot.

In this dilemma, Nance volunteered to provide the squire with another

steed, but he resolutely refused the offer.

"No, no--none of your broomsticks for me," he cried; "no devil's

horses--I don't know where they may carry me. My own legs must serve me

now. I'll just take poor Robin out of the road, and then trudge off for

Burnley as fast as I can."

With this, he led the horse to a small green mead skirting the stream,

and taking off his saddle and bridle, and depositing them carefully

under a tree, he patted the animal on the neck, promising to return for

him on the morrow, and then set off at a brisk pace, with Nance walking

beside him. They had not gone far, however, when the clattering of hoofs

was heard behind them, and it was evident that several horsemen were

rapidly approaching. Nance stopped, listened for a moment, and then

declaring that it was Demdike and his band in pursuit, seized the

squire's arm and drew him out of the road, and under the shelter of some

bushes of hazel. The robber captain could only have been stunned, it

appeared; and, as soon as he had recovered from the effects of the blow,

had mounted his horse, which was concealed, with those of his men,

behind the rocks, and started after the fugitives. Such was the

construction put upon the matter by Nance, and the event proved it

correct. A loud shout from the horsemen, and a sudden halt, proclaimed

that poor Robin had been discovered; and this circumstance seemed to

give great satisfaction to Demdike, who loudly declared that they were

now sure of overtaking the runaways.

"They cannot be far off," he cried; "but they will most likely attempt

to hide themselves, so look well about you."

So saying, he rode on, and it was evident from the noise, that the men

implicitly obeyed his injunctions. Nothing, however, was found, and ere

many minutes Demdike came up, and glancing at the hazels, behind which

the fugitives were hidden, he discharged a petronel into the largest

tree, but as no movement followed the report, he said--

"I thought I saw something move here, but I suppose I was mistaken. No

doubt they have got on further than we expected, or have retired into

some of the cloughs, in which case it will be useless to search for

them. However, we will make sure of them in this way. Two of you shall

form an ambuscade near Holme and two further on within half a mile of

Burnley, and shall remain on the watch till dawn, so that you will be

sure to capture them, and when taken, make away with them without

hesitation. Unless my skull had been of the strongest, that butcherly

squire would have cracked it, so he shall have no grace from me; and as

to that treacherous witch, Nance Redferne, she deserves death at our

hands, and she shall have her deserts. I have long suspected her, and,

indeed, was a fool to trust one of the vile Chattox brood, who are all

my natural enemies--but no matter, I shall have my revenge."

The men having promised compliance with their captain's command, he went

on--

"As to myself," he said, "I shall go forthwith, and as fast as my horse

can carry me, to Malkin Tower, and I will tell you why. It is not that I

dislike the game we are upon, but I have better to play just now. Tom

Shaw, the cock-master at Downham, who is in my pay, rode over to Whalley

this afternoon, to bring me word that a certain lady, who has long been

concealed in the Manor-house, will be taken to Malkin Tower to-night.

The intelligence is certain, for he had obtained it from Old Crouch, the

huntsman, who is to escort her. Thus, Mistress Nutter, for you all know

whom I mean, will fall naturally into our hands, and we can wring any

sums of money we like out of her; for though she has abandoned her

property to her daughter, Alizon, she can no doubt have as much as she

wants, and I will take care she asks for plenty, or I will try the

effect of some of those instruments of torture which I was lucky enough

to find in the dungeons of Malkin Tower, and which were used for a like

purpose by my predecessor, Blackburn, the freebooter. Are you content,

my lads?"

"Ay, ay, Captain Demdike," they replied.

Upon this the whole party set forward, and were speedily out of hearing.

As soon as they thought it prudent to come forth, the squire and Nance

emerged from their place of shelter.

"What is to be done?" exclaimed the former, who was almost in a state of

distraction. "The villain has announced his intention of going to Malkin

Tower, and Mistress Nutter will assuredly fall into his hands. Oh! that

I could stop him, or get there before him!"

"Yo shan, if yo like to ride wi' me," said Nance.

"But how--in what way?" asked Nicholas.

"Leave that to me," replied Nance, breaking off a long branch of hazel.

"Tak howld o' this," she cried.

The squire obeyed, and was instantly carried off his legs, and whisked

through the air at a prodigious rate.

He felt giddy and confused, but did not dare to leave go, lest he should

be dashed in pieces, while Nance's wild laughter rang in his ears.

Over the bleached and perpendicular crag--startling the eagle from his

eyry--over the yawning gully with the torrent roaring beneath him--over

the sharp ridges of the hill--over Townley park--over Burnley

steeple--over the wide valley beyond, he went--until at last,

bewildered, out of breath, and like one in a dream, he alighted on a

brown, bare, heathy expanse, and within a hundred yards of a tall,

circular stone structure, which he knew to be Malkin Tower.

CHAPTER V.--THE END OF MALKIN TOWER.

The shades of night had fallen on Downham manor-house, and with an

aching heart, and a strong presentiment of ill, Mistress Nutter prepared

to quit the little chamber which had sheltered her for more than two

months, and where she would willingly have breathed her latest sigh, if

it had been so permitted her. Closing the Bible she had been reading,

she placed the sacred volume under her arm, and taking up a small

bundle, containing her slender preparations for travel, extinguished the

taper, and then descending by a secret staircase, passed through a door,

fashioned externally like a cupboard, and entered a summer-house, where

she found old Crouch awaiting her.

A few whispered words only passed between her and the huntsman, and

informing her that the horses were in waiting at the back of the garden,

he took the bundle from her, and would fain have relieved her also of

the Bible, but she would not part with it, and pressing it more closely

to her bosom, said she was quite ready to attend him.

It was a beautiful, starlight night; the air soft and balmy, and laden

with the perfume of the flowers. A nightingale was singing plaintively

in an adjoining tree, and presently came a response equally tender from

another part of the grove. Mistress Nutter could not choose but listen,

and the melody so touched her that she was half suffocated by repressed

emotion, for, alas! the relief of tears was denied her.

Motioning her somewhat impatiently to come on, Crouch struck into a

sombre alley, edged by clipped yew-trees, and terminating in a

plantation, through which a winding path led to the foot of the hill

whereon the mansion was situated. By daylight this was a beautiful walk,

affording exquisite glimpses through the trees of the surrounding

scenery, and commanding a noble view of Pendle Hill, the dominant point

in the prospect. But even now to the poor lady, so long immured in her

cell-like chamber, and deprived of many of nature's choicest blessings,

it appeared delightful. The fresh air, redolent of new-mown hay, fanned

her pale cheek and feverish brow, and allayed her agitation and

excitement. The perfect stillness, broken only by the lowing of the

cattle in the adjoining pastures, by the drowsy hum of the dor-fly, or

the rippling of the beck in the valley, further calmed her; and the

soothing influence was completed by a contemplation of the serene

heavens, wherein were seen the starry host, with the thin bright

crescent of the new moon in the midst of them, diffusing a pearly light

around her. One blot alone appeared in the otherwise smiling sky, and

this was a great, ugly, black cloud lowering over the summit of Pendle

Hill.

Mistress Nutter noticed the portentous cloud, and noticed also its

shadow on the hill, which might have been cast by the Fiend himself, so

like was it to a demoniacal shape with outstretched wings; but, though

shuddering at the idea it suggested, she would not suffer it to obtain

possession of her mind, but resolutely fixed her attention on other and

more pleasing objects.

By this time they had reached the foot of the hill, and a gate admitted

them to a road running by the side of Downham beck. Here they found the

horses in charge of a man in the dark red livery of Nicholas Assheton,

and who was no other than Tom Shaw, the rascally cock-master. Delivering

the bridles to Crouch, the knave hastily strode away, but he lingered at

a little distance to see the lady mount; and then leaping the hedge,

struck through the plantation towards the hall, chinking the money in

his pockets as he went, and thinking how cleverly he had earned it. But

he did not go unpunished; for it is a satisfaction to record that, in

walking through the woods, he was caught in a gin placed there by

Crouch, which held him fast in its iron teeth till morning, when he was

discovered by one of the under-keepers while going his rounds, in a

deplorable condition, and lamed for life.

Meanwhile, unconscious either of the manner in which she had been

betrayed, or of the punishment awaiting her betrayer, Mistress Nutter

followed her conductor in silence. For a while the road continued by the

side of the brook, and then quitting it, commenced a long and tedious

ascent, running between high banks fringed with trees. The overhanging

boughs rendered it so dark that Mistress Nutter could scarcely

distinguish the old huntsman, though he was not many yards in advance of

her, but she heard the tramp of his horse, and that was enough.

All at once, where the boughs were thickest, and the road darkest, she

perceived a small fiery object on the bank, and in her alarm called out

to the huntsman, who, looking back for a moment, laughed, and told her

not to be uneasy, for it was only a glow-worm. Ashamed of her idle fears

she rode on, but had not proceeded far, when, looking again at the bank,

she saw it studded with the same lights. This time she did not call out

or scream, but gazed steadily at the twinkling fires, hoping to get the

better of her fears. Her alarm, however, rose to absolute terror, as she

beheld the glow-worms--if glow-worms they were--twist together and form

themselves into a flaming brand, such as she had seen in her vision,

grasped by the angel who had driven her from the gates of Paradise.

Averting her gaze, she would have hastened on, but a hand suddenly laid

upon her bridle, held back her horse; and she then perceived a tall dark

man, mounted on a sable steed, riding beside her. The supernatural

character of the horseman was manifest, inasmuch as no sound was caused

by the tread of his steed, nor did he appear to be visible to Crouch

when the latter looked back. Mistress Nutter maintained her seat with

difficulty. She well knew who was her companion.

"Soh, Alice Nutter," said the horseman at length, in a low deep tone,

"you have chosen to shut yourself up in a narrow cell, like a recluse,

for more than two months, denying yourself all sort of enjoyment,

practising severest abstinence, and passing your whole time in useless

prayer--ay, useless, for if you were to pray from now till

doomsday--come when it will, a thousand years hence, or to-morrow--it

will not save you. When you signed that bond to my master, sentence was

recorded against you, and no power can recall it. Why, then, these

unavailing lamentations? Why utter prayers which are rejected, and

supplications which are scorned? Shake off this weakness, Alice, and be

yourself again. Once you had pride enough, and a little of it would now

be of service to you. You would then see the folly of this abject

conduct--humbling yourself to the dust only to be spurned, and suing for

mercy only to be derided. Pray as loud and as long as you will, the ears

of Heaven will remain ever deaf to you."

"I hope otherwise," rejoined the lady, meekly.

"Do not deceive yourself," replied the horseman. "The term granted you

by your compact will not be abridged, but it is your own fault if it be

not extended. Your daughter is destroying herself in the vain hope of

saving you. Her prayers are unavailing as your own, and recoil from the

Judgment Throne unheard. The youth upon whom her affections are fixed is

stricken with a deadly ailment. It is in your power to save them both."

Mistress Nutter groaned deeply.

"It is in your power, I say, to save them," continued the horseman, "by

returning to your allegiance to your master. He will forgive your

disobedience if you prove yourself zealous in his service; will restore

you to your former worldly position; avenge you of your enemies; and

accomplish all you may desire with respect to your daughter."

"He cannot do it," replied Mistress Nutter.

"Cannot!" echoed the horseman. "Try him! For many years I have served

you as familiar; and you have never set me the task I have failed to

execute. I am ready to become your servant again, and to offer you a yet

larger range of control. Put no limits to your desires or ambition. If

you are tired of this narrow sphere, take a wider. Look abroad. But do

not shut yourself up in a narrow cell, and persuade yourself you are

accomplishing your ultimate deliverance, when you are only wasting

precious time, which might be more advantageously and far more agreeably

employed. While laughing at your folly, my master deplores it; and he

has, therefore, sent me as to one for whom notwithstanding all

derelictions from duty, he has still a regard, with an offer of full

forgiveness, provided you return to him at once, and renew your

covenant, proving your sincerity by casting from you the book you hold

under your arm."

"Your snares are not laid subtle enough to catch me," replied Mistress

Nutter. "I will never part with this holy volume, which is my present

safeguard, and on which I build my hopes of salvation--hopes which your

very proposals have revived in my breast; for I am well assured your

master would not make them if he felt confident of his power over me.

No; I defy him and you, and I command you in Heaven's name to get hence,

and to tempt me no longer."

As the words were uttered, with a howl of rage and mortification, like

the roar of a wild beast, the dark horseman and his steed vanished.

Alarmed by the sound, Crouch stopped, and questioned the lady as to its

cause; but receiving no satisfactory explanation from her, he bade her

ride quickly on, affirming it must be the boggart of the clough.

Soon after this they again came upon Downham beck, and were about to

cross it, when their purpose was arrested by a joyous barking, and the

next moment Grip came up. The dog, it appeared, had been shut up in the

stable, his company not being desired on the expedition; but contriving

in some way or other to get out, he had scented his master's course, and

in the end overtaken him. Crouch did not know whether to be angry or

pleased, and at first gave utterance to an oath, and raised his whip to

chastise him, but almost instantly the latter feeling predominated, and

he welcomed the faithful animal with a few kind words.

"Ey suppose theaw thowt ey couldna do without thee, Grip," he said, "and

mayhap theaw'rt reet."

They are now across the beck, and speeding over the wide brown waste.

The huntsman warily shapes his course so as to avoid any

limestone-quarries or turf-pits. He points out a jack-o'-lantern dancing

merrily on the surface of a dangerous morass, and tells a dismal tale of

a traveller lured into it by the delusive light, and swallowed up.

Mistress Nutter pays little heed to him, but ever and anon looks back,

as if in dread of some one behind her. But no one is visible, and she

only sees the great black cloud still hovering over Pendle Hill.

On--on--they go; their horses' hoofs now splashing through the wet sod,

now beating upon the firm but elastic turf. A merry ride it would be if

their errand were different, and their hearts free from care. The air is

fresh and reviving, and the rapid motion exhilarating. The stars shine

out, and the crescent moon is still glittering in the heavens, but the

black cloud hangs motionless on Pendle Hill.

Now and then some bird of night flies past them, and they hear the

whooping of the owl, and see him skimming like a ghost over the waste.

Then more fen fires arise, showing that other treacherous quagmires are

at hand; but Crouch skirts them safely. Now the bull-frog croaks in the

marsh, and a deep booming tells of a bittern passing by. They see the

mighty bird above them, with his wide heavy wings and long neck. Grip

howls at him, but is instantly checked by his master, and they gallop

on.

They are now by the side of Pendle Water, and within sight of Rough Lee.

What tumultuous thoughts agitate the lady's breast! The ground she

tramples on was once her own; the woods by the river side were planted

by her; the mansion before her once owned her as mistress, and now she

dares not approach it. Nor does she desire to do so, for the sight of it

brings back terrible recollections, and fills her again with despair.

They are now close upon it, and it appears dark, silent, and deserted.

How different from what it was of yore in her husband's days--the

husband she had foully slain! Speed on, old huntsman!--lash your panting

horse, or the remorseful lady will far outstrip you, for she rides as if

the avenging furies were at her heels.

She is rattling over the bridge, and Crouch, toiling after her, and with

Grip toiling after him, shouts to her to moderate her pace. She looks

back, and beholds the grim old house frowning full upon her, and hurries

on. Huntsman and dog are left behind for awhile, but the steep ascent

soon compels her to slacken speed, and they come up, Crouch swearing

lustily, and Grip, with his tongue out of his mouth, limping as if

foot-sore.

The road now leads through a thicket. The horses stumble frequently, for

the stones are loose, and the footing consequently uncertain. Crouch has

a fall, and ere he can remount the lady is gone. It is useless to hurry

after her, and he is proceeding slowly, when Grip, who is a little in

advance, growls fiercely, and looks back at his master, as if to

intimate that danger is at hand. The huntsman presses on, but he is too

late, if, indeed, he could at any time have rendered effectual

assistance. A clearing in the thicket shows him the lady dismounted, and

surrounded by several wild-looking men armed with calivers. Part of the

band bear her shrieking off, and the rest fire at him, but without

effect, and then chase him as far as the steepest part of the hill,

down which he dashes, followed by Grip. Arrived at the bottom, he pauses

to listen if he is pursued, and hearing nothing further to alarm him,

debates with himself what is best to be done; and, not liking to alarm

the village, for that would be to betray Mistress Nutter, he gets off

his horse, ties him to a tree, and with Grip close at his heels,

commences the ascent of the hill by a different road from that he had

previously taken.

Meanwhile, Mistress Nutter's captors dragged her forcibly towards the

tower. Their arms and appearance left her no doubt they were

depredators, and she sought to convince them she had neither money nor

valuables in her possession. They laughed at her assertions, but made no

other reply. Her sole consolation was, that they did not seek to deprive

her of her Bible.

On reaching the tower, a signal was given by one of the foremost of the

band, and the steps being lowered from the high doorway, she was

compelled to ascend them, and being pushed along a short passage,

obscured by a piece of thick tapestry, but which was drawn aside as she

advanced, she found herself in a circular chamber, in the midst of which

was a massive table covered with flasks and drinking-cups, and stained

with wine. From the roof, which was crossed by great black beams of oak,

was suspended a lamp with three burners, whose light showed that the

walls were garnished with petronels, rapiers, poniards, and other

murderous weapons; besides these there were hung from pegs long

riding-cloaks, sombreros, vizards, and other robber accoutrements,

including a variety of disguises, from the clown's frieze jerkin to the

gentleman's velvet doublet, ready to be assumed on an emergency. Here

and there was an open valise, or a pair of saddle-bags with their

contents strewn about the floor, and on a bench were a dice-box and

shuffle-board, showing, with the flasks and goblets on the table, how

the occupants of the tower passed their time.

A steep ladder-like flight of steps led to the upper chamber, and down

these, at the very moment of Mistress Nutter's entrance, descended a

stalwart personage, who eyed her fiercely as he leapt upon the floor.

There was something in the man's truculent physiognomy, and strange and

oblique vision, that reminded her of Mother Demdike.

"Welcome to Malkin Tower, madam," said the robber with a grin, and

doffing his cap with affected courtesy. "We have met before, but it is

many years ago, and I dare say you have forgotten me. You will guess who

I am when I tell you my mother occupied this tower before me."

Finding Mistress Nutter made no remark, he went on.

"I am Christopher Demdike, madam--Captain Demdike, I should say. The

brave fellows who have brought you hither are part of my band, and till

lately Northumberland and the borders of Scotland used to be our scene

of action; but chancing to hear of my worthy old mother's death, I

thought we could not do better than take possession of her stronghold,

which devolved upon me by right of inheritance. Since our arrival here

we have kept ourselves very quiet, and the country folk, taking us for

spirits or demons, never approach our hiding-place; while, as all our

depredations are confined to distant parts, our retreat has never been

suspected."

"This concerns me little," observed Mistress Nutter, coldly.

"Pardon me, madam, it concerns you much, as you will learn anon. But be

seated, I pray you," he said, with mock civility. "I am keeping you

standing all this while."

But as the lady declined the attention, he went on.

"I was fortunate enough, on first coming back to this part of the

country, to pick up an acquaintance with your relative, Nicholas

Assheton, who invited me to stay with him at Downham, and was so well

pleased with my society that he could not endure to part with me."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Mistress Nutter, "are you the person he called

Lawrence Fogg?"

"The same," replied Demdike; "and no doubt you would hear a good report

of me, madam. Well, it suited my purpose to stay; for I was very

hospitably entertained by the squire, who, except being rather too much

addicted to lectures and psalm-singing, is as pleasant a host as one

could desire; besides which, he was obliging enough to employ me to

borrow money for him, and what I got, I kept, you may be sure."

"I would willingly be spared the details of your knavery," said Mistress

Nutter, somewhat impatiently.

"I am coming to an end," rejoined Demdike, "and then, perhaps, you may

wish I had prolonged them. All the squire's secrets were committed to

me, and I was fully aware of your concealment in the hall, but I could

never ascertain precisely where you were lodged. I meant to carry you

off, and only awaited the opportunity which has presented itself

to-night."

"If you think to obtain money from me, you will find yourself mistaken,"

said Mistress Nutter. "I have parted with all my possessions."

"But to whom, madam?" cried Demdike, with a sinister smile--"to your

daughter. And I am sure she is too gentle, too tender-hearted, to allow

you to suffer when she can relieve you. You must get us a good round sum

from her or you will be detained here long. The dungeons are dark and

unwholesome, and my band are apt to be harsh in their treatment of

captives. They have found in the vaults some instruments of torture

belonging to old Blackburn, the freebooter, the efficacy of which in an

obstinate case I fear they might be inclined to try. You now begin to

see the drift of my discourse, madam, and understand the sort of men

you have to deal with--barbarous fellows, madam--inhuman dogs!"

And he laughed coarsely at his own jocularity.

"It may put an end to this discussion," said Mistress Nutter firmly, "if

I declare that no torture shall induce me to make any such demand from

my daughter."

"You think, perhaps, I am jesting with you, madam," rejoined Demdike.

"Oh! no, I believe you capable of any atrocity," replied the lady. "You

do not, either in feature or deeds, belie your parentage."

"Ah! say you so, madam?" cried Demdike. "You have a sharp tongue, I

find. Courtesy is thrown away upon you. What, ho! lads--Kenyon and

Lowton, take the lady down to the vaults, and there let her have an hour

for solitary reflection. She may change her mind in that time."

"Do not think it," cried Mistress Nutter, resolutely.

"If you continue obstinate, we will find means to move you," rejoined

Demdike, in a taunting tone. "But what has she got beneath her arm? Give

me the book. What's this?--a Bible! A witch with a Bible! It should be a

grimoire. Ha! ha!"

"Give it me back, I implore of you," shrieked the lady. "I shall be

destroyed, soul and body, if I have it not with me."

"What! you are afraid the devil may carry you off without it--ho! ho!"

roared Demdike. "Well, that would not suit my purpose at present. Here,

take it--and now off with her, lads, without more ado!"

And as he spoke, a trapdoor was opened by one of the robbers, disclosing

a flight of steps leading to the subterranean chambers, down which the

miserable lady was dragged.

Presently the two men re-appeared with a grim smile on their ruffianly

countenances, and, as they closed the trapdoor, one of them observed to

the captain that they had chained her to a pillar, by removing the band

from the great skeleton, and passing it round her body.

"You have done well, lads," replied Demdike, approvingly; "and now go

all of you and scour the hill-top, and return in an hour, and we will

decide upon what is to be done with this woman."

The two men then joined the rest of their comrades outside, and the

whole troop descended the steps, which were afterwards drawn up by

Demdike. This done, the robber captain returned to the circular chamber,

and for some time paced to and fro, revolving his dark schemes. He then

paused, and placing his ear near the trapdoor, listened, but as no sound

reached him, he sat down at the table, and soon grew so much absorbed as

to be unconscious that a dark figure was creeping stealthily down the

narrow staircase behind him.

"I cannot get rid of Nicholas Assheton," he exclaimed at length. "I

somehow fancy we shall meet again; and yet all should be over with him

by this time."

"Look round!" thundered a voice behind him. "Nicholas Assheton is not to

be got rid of so easily."

At this unexpected summons, Demdike started to his feet, and recoiled

aghast, as he saw what he took to be the ghost of the murdered squire

standing before him. A second look, however, convinced him that it was

no phantom he beheld, but a living man, armed for vengeance, and

determined upon it.

"Get a weapon, villain," cried Nicholas, in tones of concentrated fury.

"I do not wish to take unfair advantage, even of thee."

Without a word of reply, Demdike snatched a sword from the wall, and the

next moment was engaged in deadly strife with the squire. They were well

matched, for both were powerful men, both expert in the use of their

weapons, and the combat might have been protracted and of doubtful issue

but for the irresistible fury of Nicholas, who assaulted his adversary

with such vigour and determination that he speedily drove him against

the wall, where the latter made an attempt to seize a petronel hanging

beside him, but his purpose being divined, he received a thrust through

the arm, and, dropping his blade, lay at the squire's mercy.

Nicholas shortened his sword, but forbore to strike. Seizing his enemy

by the throat, he hurled him to the ground, and, planting his knee on

his chest, called out, "What, ho, Nance!"

"Nance!" exclaimed Demdike,--"then it was that mischievous jade who

brought you here."

"Ay," replied the squire, as the young woman came quickly down the

steps,--"and I refused her aid in the conflict because I felt certain of

mastering thee, and because I would not take odds even against such a

treacherous villain as thou art."

"Better dispatch him, squire," said Nance; "he may do yo a mischief

yet."

"No--no," replied Nicholas, "he is unworthy of a gentleman's sword.

Besides, I have sworn to hang him, and I will keep my word. Go down into

the vaults and liberate Mistress Nutter, while I bind him, for we must

take him with us. To-morrow, he shall lie in Lancaster Castle with his

kinsfolk."

"That remains to be seen," muttered Demdike.

"Be on your guard, squire," cried Nance, as she lifted a small lamp, and

raised the trapdoor.

With this caution, she descended to the vaults, while Nicholas looked

about for a thong, and perceiving a rope dangling down the wall near

him, he seized it, drawing it with some force towards him.

A sudden sound reached his ears--clang! clang! He had rung the

alarm-bell violently.

Clang! clang! clang! Would it never stop?

Taking advantage of his surprise and consternation, Demdike got from

under him, sprang to his feet, and rushing to the doorway, instantly let

fall the steps, roaring out,--

"Treason! to the rescue, my men! to the rescue!"

His cries were immediately answered from without, and it was evident

from the tumult that the whole of the band were hurrying to his

assistance.

Not a moment was to be lost by the squire. Plunging through the

trapdoor, he closed it after him, and bolted it underneath at the very

moment the robbers entered the chamber. Demdike's rage at finding him

gone was increased, when all the combined efforts of his men failed in

forcing open the trapdoor.

"Take hatchets and hew it open!" he cried; "we must have them. I have

heard there is a secret outlet below, and though I have never been able

to discover it, it may be known to Nance. I will go outside, and watch.

If you hear me whistle, come forth instantly."

And, rushing forth, he was making the circuit, of the tower, and

examining some bushes at its base, when his throat was suddenly seized

by a dog, and before he could even utter an exclamation, much less sound

his whistle, or use his arms, he was grappled by the old huntsman, and

dragged off to a considerable distance, the dog still clinging to his

throat.

Meanwhile, Nicholas had hurried down into the vaults, where he found

Nance sustaining Mistress Nutter, who was half fainting, and hastily

explaining what had occurred, she consigned the lady to him, and then

led the way through the central range of pillars, and past the ebon

image, until she approached the wall, when, holding up the lamp, she

revealed a black marble slab between the statues of Blackburn and Isole.

Pressing against it, the slab moved on one side, and disclosed a flight

of steps.

"Go up there," cried Nance to the squire, "and when ye get to th' top,

yo'n find another stoan, wi' a nob in it. Yo canna miss it. Go on."

"But you!" cried the squire. "Will you not come with us?"

"Ey'n come presently," replied Nance, with a strange smile. "Ey ha

summat to do first. That cunning fox Demdike has set a trap fo' himsel

an aw his followers,--and it's fo' me to ketch 'em. Wait fo' me about a

hundert yorts fro' th' tower. Nah nearer--yo onderstand?"

Nicholas did not very clearly understand, but concluding Nance had some

hidden meaning in what she said, he resolved unhesitatingly to obey her.

Having got clear of the tower, as directed, with Mistress Nutter, he ran

on with her to some distance, when what was his surprise to find Crouch

and Grip keeping watch over the prostrate robber chief. A few words from

the huntsman sufficed to explain how this had come about, but they were

scarcely uttered when Nance rushed up in breathless haste, crying

out--"Off! further off! as yo value your lives!"

Seeing from her manner that delay would be dangerous, Nicholas and

Crouch laid hold of the prisoner and bore him away between them, while

Nance assisted Mistress Nutter along.

They had not gone far when a rumbling sound like that preceding an

earthquake was heard.

All looked back towards Malkin Tower. The structure was seen to

rock--flames burst from the earth--and with a tremendous explosion heard

for miles ground, and which shook the ground even where Nicholas and the

others stood, the whole of the unhallowed fabric, from base to summit,

was blown into the air, some of the stones being projected to an

extraordinary distance.

A mine charged with gunpowder, it appeared, had been laid beneath its

vaults by Demdike, with a view to its destruction at some future period,

and this circumstance being known to Nance, she had fired the train.

Not one of the robbers within the tower escaped. The bodies of all were

found next day, crushed, burned, or frightfully mutilated.

CHAPTER VI.--HOGHTON TOWER.

About a month after the occurrence last described, and early on a fine

morning in August, Nicholas Assheton and Richard Sherborne rode forth

together from the proud town of Preston. Both were gaily attired in

doublets and hose of yellow velvet, slashed with white silk, with

mantles to match, the latter being somewhat conspicuously embroidered on

the shoulder with a wild bull worked in gold, and underneath it the

motto, "_Malgré le Tort_." Followed at a respectful distance by four

mounted attendants, the two gentlemen had crossed the bridge over the

Ribble, and were wending their way along the banks of a tributary

stream, the Darwen, within a short distance of the charming village of

Walton-le-Dale, when they perceived a horseman advancing slowly towards

them, whom they instantly hailed as Richard Assheton, and pushing

forward, were soon beside him. Both were much shocked by the young man's

haggard looks, and inquired anxiously as to his health, but Richard bade

them, with a melancholy smile, not be uneasy, for all would be well with

him erelong.

"All will be over with you, lad, if you don't mind; and that's, perhaps,

what you mean," replied Nicholas; "but as soon as the royal festivities

at Hoghton are over, I'll set about your cure; and, what's more, I'll

accomplish it--for I know where the seat of the disease lies better than

Dr. Morphew, your family physician at Middleton. 'Tis near the heart,

Dick--near the heart. Ha! I see I have touched you, lad. But, beshrew

me, you are very strangely attired--in a suit of sable velvet, with a

black Spanish hat and feather, for a festival! You look as if going to a

funeral I am fearful his Majesty may take it amiss. Why not wear the

livery of our house?"

"Nay, if it comes to that," rejoined Richard, "why do not you and

Sherborne wear it, instead of flaunting like daws in borrowed plumage? I

scarce know you in your strange garb, and certainly should not take you

for an Assheton, or aught pertaining to our family, from your gaudy

colours and the strange badge on your shoulder."

"I don't wonder at it, Dick," said Nicholas; "I scarce know myself; and

though the clothes I wear are well made enough, they seem to sit

awkwardly on me, and trouble me as much as the shirt of Nessus did

Hercules of old. For the nonce I am Sir Richard Hoghton's retainer. I

must own I was angry with myself when I saw Sir Ralph Assheton with his

long train of gentlemen, all in murrey-coloured cloaks and doublets, at

Myerscough Lodge, while I, his cousin, was habited like one of another

house. And when I would have excused my apparent defection to Sir Ralph,

he answered coldly, 'It was better as it was, for he could scarcely have

found room for me among his friends.'"

"Do not fret yourself, Nicholas," rejoined Sherborne; "Sir Ralph cannot

reasonably take offence at a mere piece of good-nature on your part. But

this does not explain why Richard affects a colour so sombre."

"I am the retainer of one whose livery is sombre," replied the young

man, with a ghastly smile. "But enough of this," he added, endeavouring

to assume a livelier air; "I suppose you are on the way to Hoghton

Tower. I thought to reach Preston before you were up, but I might have

recollected you are no lag-a-bed, Nicholas, not even after hard drinking

overnight, as witness your feats at Whalley. To be frank with you, I

feared being led into like excesses, and so preferred passing the night

at the quiet little inn at Walton-le-Dale, to coming on to you at the

Castle at Preston, which I knew would be full of noisy roysterers."

"Full it was, even to overflowing," replied the squire; "but you should

have come, Dick, for, by my troth! we had a right merry night of it.

Stephen Hamerton, of Hellyfield Peel, with his wife, and her sister,

sweet Mistress Doll Lister, supped with us; and we had music, dancing,

and singing, and abundance of good cheer. Nouns! Dick, Doll Lister is a

delightful lass, and if you can only get Alizon out of your head, would

be just the wife for you. She sings like an angel, has the most

captivating sigh-and-die-away manner, and the prettiest rounded figure

ever bodice kept in. Were I in your place I should know where to

choose. But you will see her at Hoghton to-day, for she is to be at the

banquet and masque."

"Your description does not tempt me," said Richard; "I have no taste for

sigh-and-die-away damsels. Dorothy Lister, however, is accounted fair

enough; but, were she fascinating as Venus herself, in my present mood I

should not regard her."

"I' faith, lad, I pity you, if such be the case," shrugging his

shoulders, more in contempt than compassion.

"Waste not your sympathy upon me," replied Richard; "but, tell me, how

went the show at Preston yesterday?"

"Excellently well, and much to his Majesty's satisfaction," answered the

squire. "Proud Preston never was so proud before, and never with such

good reason; for if the people be poor, according to the proverb, they

take good care to hide their poverty. Bombards were fired from the

bridge, and the church bells rang loud enough to crack the steeple, and

bring it down about the ears of the deafened lieges. The houses were

hung with carpets and arras; the streets strewn ankle deep with sand and

sawdust; the cross in the market-place was bedecked with garlands of

flowers like a May-pole; and the conduit near it ran wine. At noon there

was more firing; and, amidst flourishes of trumpets, rolling of drums,

squeaking of fifes, and prodigious shouting, bonnie King Jamie came to

the cross, where a speech was made him by Master Breares, the Recorder;

after which the corporation presented his Majesty with a huge silver

bowl, in token of their love and loyalty. The King seemed highly pleased

with the gift, and observed to the Duke of Buckingham, loud enough to be

heard by the bystanders, who reported his speech to me, 'God's santie!

it's a braw bicker, Steenie, and might serve for a christening-cup, if

we had need of siccan a vessel, which, Heaven be praised, we ha'e na!'

After this there was a grand banquet in the town-hall; and when the heat

of the day was over the King left with his train for Hoghton Tower,

visiting the alum mines on the way thither. We are bidden to breakfast

by Sir Richard, so we must push on, Dick, for his Majesty is an early

riser, like myself. We are to have rare sport to-day. Hunting in the

morning, a banquet, and, as I have already intimated, a masque at night,

in which Sir George Goring and Sir John Finett will play, and in which I

have been solicited to take the drolling part of Jem Tospot--nay, laugh

not, Dick, Sherborne says I shall play it to the life--as well as to

find some mirthful dame to enact the companion part of Doll Wango. I

have spoken with two or three on the subject, and fancy one of them will

oblige me. There is another matter on which I am engaged. I am to

present a petition to his Majesty from a great number of the lower

orders in this county, praying they may be allowed to take their

diversions, as of old accustomed, after divine service on Sundays; and,

though I am the last man to desire any violation of the Sabbath, being

somewhat puritanically inclined as they now phrase it, yet I cannot

think any harm can ensue from lawful recreation and honest exercise.

Still, I would any one were chosen to present the petition rather than

myself."

"Have no misgivings on the subject," said Richard, "but urge the matter

strongly; and if you need support, I will give you all I can, for I feel

we are best observing the divine mandate by making the Sabbath a day of

rest, and observing it cheerfully. And this, I apprehend, is the

substance of your petition?"

"The whole sum and substance," replied Nicholas; "and I have reason to

believe his Majesty's wishes are in accordance with it."

"They are known to be so," said Sherborne.

"I am glad to hear it," cried Richard. "God save King James, the friend

of the people!"

"Ay, God save King James!" echoed Nicholas; "and if he I grant this

petition he will prove himself their friend, for he will I have all the

clergy against him, and will be preached against from half the pulpits

in the kingdom."

"Little harm will ensue if it should be so," replied Richard; "for he

will be cheered and protected by the prayers of a grateful and happy

people."

They then rode on for a few minutes in silence, after which; Richard

inquired--

"You had brave doings at Myerscough Lodge, I suppose, Nicholas?"

"Ay, marry had we," answered the squire, "and the feasting must have

cost Ned Tyldesley a pretty penny. Besides the King and his own

particular attendants, there were some dozen noblemen and their

followers, including the Duke of Buckingham, who moves about like a king

himself, and I know not how many knights and gentlemen. Sherborne and I

rode over from Dunnow, and reached the forest immediately after the King

had entered it in his coach; so we took a short cut through the woods,

and came up just in time to join Sir Richard Hoghton's train as he was

riding up to his Majesty. Fancy a wide glade, down which a great gilded

coach is slowly moving, drawn by eight horses, and followed by a host of

noblemen and gentlemen in splendid apparel, their esquires and pages

equally richly arrayed, and equally well mounted; and, after these,

numerous falconers, huntsmen, prickers, foresters, and yeomen, with

staghounds in leash, and hawk on fist, all ready for the sport. Fancy

all this if you can, Dick, and then conceive what a brave sight it must

have been. Well, as I said, we came up in the very nick of time, for

presently the royal coach stopped, and Sir Richard Hoghton, calling all

his gentlemen around him, and bidding us dismount, and we followed him,

and drew up, bareheaded, before the King, while Sir Richard pointed out

to his Majesty the boundaries of the royal forest, and told him he

would find it as well stocked with deer as any in his kingdom. Before

putting an end to the conference, the King complimented the worthy

Knight on the gallant appearance of his train, and on learning we were

all gentlemen, graciously signified his pleasure that some of us should

be presented to him. Amongst others, I was brought forward by Sir

Richard, and liking my looks, I suppose, the King was condescending

enough to enter into conversation with me; and as his discourse chiefly

turned on sporting matters, I was at home with him at once, and he

presently grew so familiar with me, that I almost forgot the presence in

which I stood. However, his Majesty seemed in no way offended by my

freedom, but, on the contrary, clapped me on the shoulder, and said,

'Maister Assheton, for a country gentleman, you're weel-mannered and

weel-informed, and I shall be glad to see more of you while I stay in

these parts.' After this, the good-natured monarch mounted his horse,

and the hunting began, and a famous day's work we made of it, his

Majesty killing no fewer than five fine bucks with his own hand."

"You are clearly on the road to preferment, Nicholas," observed Richard,

with a smile. "You will outstrip Buckingham himself, if you go on in

this way."

"So I tell him," observed Sherborne, laughing; "and, by my faith! young

Sir Gilbert Hoghton, who, owing to his connexion by marriage with

Buckingham, is a greater man than his father, Sir Richard, looked quite

jealous; for the King more than once called out to Nicholas in the

chase, and took the wood-knife from him when he broke up the last deer,

which is accounted a mark of especial favour."

"Well, gentlemen," said the squire, "I shall not stand in my own light,

depend upon it; and, if I should bask in court-sunshine, you shall

partake of the rays. If I do become master of the household, in lieu of

the Duke of Richmond, or master of the horse and cupbearer to his

Majesty, in place of his Grace of Buckingham, I will not forget you."

"We are greatly indebted to you, my Lord Marquess of Downham and Duke of

Pendle Hill, that is to be," rejoined Sherborne, taking off his cap with

mock reverence; "and perhaps, for the sake of your sweet sister and my

spouse, Dorothy, you will make interest to have me appointed gentleman

of the bedchamber?"

"Doubt it not--doubt it not," replied Nicholas, in a patronising tone.

"My ambition soars higher than yours, Sherborne," said Richard; "I must

be lord-keeper of the privy seal, or nothing."

"Oh! what you will, gentlemen, what you will!" cried Nicholas; "you can

ask me nothing I will not grant--always provided I have the means."

A turn in the road now showed them Hoghton Tower, crowning the summit

of an isolated and conical hill, about two miles off. Rising proudly in

the midst of a fair and fertile plain, watered by the Ribble and the

Darwen, the stately edifice seemed to command the whole country. And so

King James thought, as, from the window of his chamber, he looked down

upon the magnificent prospect around him, comprehending on the one hand

the vast forests of Myerscough and Bowland, stretching as far as the

fells near Lancaster; and, on the other, an open but still undulating

country, beautifully diversified with wood and water, well-peopled and

well-cultivated, green with luxuriant pastures, yellow with golden

grain, or embowered with orchards, boasting many villages and small

towns, as well as two lovely rivers, which, combining their currents at

Walton-le-Dale, gradually expanded till they neared the sea, which could

be seen gleaming through openings in the distant hills. As the King

surveyed this fair scene, and thought how strong was the position of the

mansion, situated as it was upon high cliffs springing abruptly from the

Darwen, and how favourably circumstanced, with its forests and park, for

the enjoyment of the chase, of which he was passionately fond, how

capable of defence, and how well adapted for a hunting-seat, he sighed

to think it did not belong to the crown. Nor was he wrong in his

estimate of its strength, for in after years, during the civil wars, it

held out stoutly against the parliamentary forces, and was only reduced

at last by treachery, when part of its gate-tower was blown up,

destroying an officer and two hundred men, "in that blast most wofully."

Though the hour was so early, the road was already thronged, not only

with horsemen and pedestrians of every degree from Preston, but with

rude lumbering vehicles from the neighbouring villages of Plessington,

Brockholes and Cuerden, driven by farmers, who, with their buxom dames

and cherry-cheeked daughters, decked out in holiday finery, hoped to

gain admittance to Hoghton Tower, or, at all events, obtain a peep of

the King as he rode out to hunt. Most of these were saluted by Nicholas,

who scrupled not to promise them admission to the outer court of the

Tower, and even went so far as to offer some of the comelier damsels a

presentation to the King. Occasionally, the road was enlivened by

strains of music from a band of minstrels, by a song or a chorus from

others, or by the gamesome tricks of a party of mummers. At one place, a

couple of tumblers and a clown were performing their feats on a cloth

stretched on the grass beneath a tree. Here the crowd collected for a

few minutes, but presently gave way to loud shouts, attended by the

cracking of whips, proceeding from two grooms in the yellow and white

livery of Sir Richard Hoghton, who headed some half-dozen carts filled

with provisions, carcases of sheep and oxen, turkeys and geese, pullets

and capons, fish, bread, and vegetables, all bent for Hoghton Tower;

for though Sir Richard had made vast preparations for his guests, he

found his supplies, great as they were, wholly inadequate to their

wants. Cracking their whips in answer to the shouts with which they were

greeted, the purveyors galloped on, many a hungry wight looking

wistfully after them.

Nicholas and his companions were now at the entrance to Hoghton Park,

through which the Darwen coursed, after washing the base of the rocky

heights on which the mansion was situated. Here four yeomen of the

guard, armed with halberts, and an officer, were stationed, and no one

was admitted without an order from Sir Richard Hoghton. Possessing a

pass, the squire and his companions with their attendants were, of

course, allowed to enter; but the throng accompanying them were sent

over the bridge, and along a devious road skirting the park, which,

though it went more than a mile round, eventually brought them to their

destination.

Hoghton Park, though not very extensive, boasted a great deal of

magnificent timber, and in some places was so thickly wooded, that,

according to Dr. Kuerden, "a man passing through it could scarcely have

seen the sun shine at middle of day." Into one of these tenebrous groves

the horsemen now plunged, and for some moments were buried in the gloom

produced by matted and overhanging boughs. Issuing once more into the

warm sunshine, they traversed a long and beautiful silvan glade, skirted

by ancient oaks, with mighty arms and gnarled limbs--the patriarchs of

the forest. In the open ground on the left were scattered a few

ash-trees, and beneath them browsed a herd of fallow deer; while

crossing the lower end of the glade was a large herd of red deer, for

which the park was famous, the hinds tripping nimbly and timidly away,

but the lordly stags, with their branching antlers, standing for a

moment at gaze, and disdainfully regarding the intruders on their

domain. Little did they think how soon and severely their courage would

be tried, or how soon the _mort_ would be sounded for their _pryse_ by

the huntsman. But if, happily for themselves, the poor leathern-coated

fools could not foresee their doom, it was not equally hidden from

Nicholas, who predicted what would ensue, and pointed out one noble hart

which he thought worthy to die by the King's own hand. As if he

understood him, the stately beast tossed his antlered head aloft, and

plunged into the adjoining thicket; but the squire noted the spot where

he had disappeared.

The glade led them into the chase, a glorious hunting-ground of about

two miles in circumference, surrounded by an amphitheatre of wood, and

studded by noble forest trees. Variety and beauty were lent to it by an

occasional knoll crowned with timber, or by numerous ferny dells and

dingles. As the horsemen entered upon the chase, they observed at a

short distance from them a herd of the beautiful, but fierce wild

cattle, originally from Bowland Forest, and still preserved in the park.

White and spangled in colour, with short sharp horns, fine eyes, and

small shapely limbs, these animals were of untameable fierceness,

possessed of great cunning, and ever ready to assault any one who

approached them. They would often attack a solitary individual, gore

him, and trample him to death. Consequently, they were far more dreaded

than the wild-boars, with which, as with every other sort of game, the

neighbouring woods were plentifully stocked. Well aware of the danger

they ran, the party watched the herd narrowly and distrustfully, and

would have galloped on; but this would only have provoked pursuit, and

the wild cattle were swifter than any horses. Suddenly, a milkwhite bull

trotted out from the rest of the herd, bellowing fiercely, lashing his

sides with his tail, and lowering his head to the ground, as if

meditating an attack. His example was speedily followed by the others,

and the whole herd began to beat ground and roar loudly. Much alarmed by

these hostile manifestations, the party were debating whether to stand

the onset, or trust to the fleetness of their steeds for safety; when

just as the whole herd, with tails erect and dilated nostrils, were

galloping towards them, assistance appeared in the persons of some ten

or a dozen mounted prickers, who, armed with long poles pointed with

iron, issued with loud shouts from an avenue opening upon the chase. At

sight of them, the whole herd wheeled round and fled, but were pursued

by the prickers till they were driven into the depths of the furthest

thicket. Six of the prickers remained watching over them during the day,

in order that the royal hunting-party might not be disturbed, and the

woods echoed with the bellowing of the angry brutes.

While this was going forward, the squire and his companions,

congratulating themselves on their narrow escape, galloped off, and

entered the long avenue of sycamores, from which the prickers had

emerged.

At the head of a steep ascent, partly hewn out of the rock, and partly

skirted by venerable and majestic trees, forming a continuation of the

avenue, rose the embattled gate-tower of the proud edifice they were

approaching, and which now held the monarch of the land, and the highest

and noblest of his court as guests within its halls. From the top of the

central tower of the gateway floated the royal banner, while at the very

moment the party reached the foot of the hill, they were saluted by a

loud peal of ordnance discharged from the side-towers, proclaiming that

the King had arisen; and, as the smoke from the culverins wreathed round

the standard, a flourish of trumpets was blown from the walls, and

martial music resounded from the court.

Roused by these stirring sounds, Nicholas spurred his horse up the rocky

ascent; and followed closely by his companions, who were both nearly as

much excited as himself, speedily gained the great gateway--a massive

and majestic structure, occupying the centre of the western front of the

mansion, and consisting of three towers of great strength and beauty,

the mid-tower far overtopping the other two, as in the arms of Old

Castile, and sustaining, as was its right, the royal standard. On the

platform stood the trumpeters with their silk-fringed clarions, and the

iron mouths of the culverins, which had been recently discharged,

protruded through the battlements. The arms and motto of the Hoghtons,

carved in stone, were placed upon the gateway, with the letters T.H.,

the initials of the founder of the tower. Immediately above the arched

entrance was the sculptured figure of a knight slaying a dragon.

In front of the gateway a large crowd of persons were assembled,

consisting of the inferior gentry of the neighbourhood, with their

wives, daughters, and servants, clergymen, attorneys, chirurgeons,

farmers, and tradesmen of all kind from the adjoining towns of

Blackburn, Preston, Chorley, Haslingden, Garstang, and even Lancaster.

Representatives in some sort or other of almost every town and village

in the county might be found amongst the motley assemblage, which, early

as it was, numbered several hundreds, many of those from the more

distant places having quitted their homes soon after midnight.

Admittance was naturally sought by all; but here the same rule was

observed as at the park gate, and no one was allowed to enter, even the

base court, without authority from the lord of the mansion. The great

gates were closed, and two files of halberdiers were drawn up under the

deep archway, to keep the passage clear, and quell disturbance in case

any should occur; while a gigantic porter, stationed in front of the

wicket, rigorously scrutinised the passes. These precautions naturally

produced delay; and, though many of the better part of the crowd were

entitled to admission, it was not without much pushing and squeezing,

and considerable detriment to their gay apparel, that they were enabled

to effect their object.

The comfort of those outside the walls had not, however, been altogether

neglected by Sir Richard Hoghton, for sheds were reared under the trees,

where stout March beer, together with cheese and bread, or oaten cakes

and butter, were freely distributed to all applicants; so that, if some

were disappointed, few were discontented, especially when told that the

gates would be thrown open at noon, when, during the time the King and

the nobles feasted in the great banquet-hall, they might partake of a

wild bull from the park, slaughtered expressly for the occasion, which

was now being roasted whole within the base court. That the latter was

no idle promise they had the assurance of thick smoke rising above the

walls, laden with the scent of roast meat, and, moreover, they could see

through the wicket a great fire blazing and crackling on the green,

with a huge carcass on an immense spit before it, and a couple of

turn-broaches basting it.

As Nicholas and his companions forced their way through this crowd,

which was momently receiving additions as fresh arrivals took place, the

squire recognised many old acquaintances, and was nodding familiarly

right and left, when he encountered a woman's eye fixed keenly upon him,

and to his surprise beheld Nance Redferne. Nance, who had lost none of

her good looks, was very gaily attired, with her fine chestnut hair

knotted with ribbons, her stomacher similarly adorned, and her red

petticoat looped up, so as to display an exceedingly trim ankle and

small foot; and, under other circumstances, Nicholas might not have

minded staying to chat with her, but just now it was out of the

question, and he hastily turned his head another way. As ill luck,

however, would have it, a stoppage occurred at the moment, during which

Nance forced her way up to him, and, taking hold of his arm, said in a

low tone--

"Yo mun tae me in wi' ye, squoire."

"Take you in with me--impossible!" cried Nicholas.

"Nah! it's neaw impossible," rejoined Nance, pertinaciously; "yo con do

it, an yo shan. Yo owe me a good turn, and mun repay it now."

"But why the devil do you want to go in?" cried Nicholas, impatiently.

"You know the King is the sworn enemy of all witches, and, amongst this

concourse, some one is sure to recognise you and betray you. I cannot

answer for your safety if I do take you in. In my opinion, you were

extremely unwise to venture here at all."

"Ne'er heed my wisdom or my folly, boh do as ey bid yo, or yo'n repent

it," said Nance.

"Why, you can get in without my aid," observed the squire, trying to

laugh it off. "You can easily fly over the walls."

"Ey ha' left my broomstick a-whoam," replied Nance--"boh no more

jesting. Win yo do it?"

"Well, well, I suppose I must," replied Nicholas, "but I wash my hands

of the consequences. If ill comes of it, I am not to blame. You must go

in as Doll Wango--that is, as a character in the masque to be enacted

to-night--d'ye mark?"

Nance signified that she perfectly understood him.