 Book one. Chapter five of The Lancashire Witches. Not far from the green where the May Day revels were held, stood the ancient parish church of Whaley. Its square tower surmounted with a flag-staff and a banner, and shaking with the joyous peals of the ringers. A picturesque and beautiful structure it was, though full of architectural incongruities, and its grey walls and hoary buttresses, with the lancet-shaped windows of the choir, and the ramified tracery of the fine eastern window, could not fail to please any taste not quite so critical as to require absolute harmony and perfection in a building. Parts of the venerable fabric were older than the abbey itself, dating back as far as the eleventh century when a chapel occupied the site, and though many alterations had been made in the subsequent structure at various times, and many beauties destroyed, especially during the period of the Reformation, enough of its pristine character remained to render it a very good specimen of an old country church. Internally the cylindrical columns of the North Isle, the construction of the choir, and the three stone seats supported on rounded columns near the altar proclaimed its high antiquity. Within the choir were preserved the eighteen richly carved stalls once occupying a similar position in the desecrated conventual church, and though exquisite in themselves, they seemed here sadly out of place, not being proportionate to the structure. Their elaborately carved seats projected far into the body of the church, and their crooked pinnacles shot up almost to the ceiling. But it was well that they had not shared the destruction in which almost all the other ornaments of the magnificent feign they once decorated were involved. Carefully preserved, the black varnished oak well displayed the quaint and grotesque designs with which many of them, the priors' stall in this special, were embellished. Chief among them was the abbot's stall, festooned with sculptured vine-wreaths and clustering grapes, and bearing the auspicious inscription, Semper Gaudentes, Sintiste Cervé Siventes, singularly inapplicable, however, to the last prelate who filled it. Some fine old monuments and war-like trophies of neighbouring wealthy families adorned the walls, and within the nave was a magnificent pew with a canopy and pillars of elaborately carved oak, and that is work at the sides, allocated to the manner of reed, and recently erected by Roger Knowle, while in the north and south aisles were two small chapels converted since the reformed faith had obtained into pews, the one called Saint Mary's Cage, belonging to the Ascherton family, and the other appertaining to the catarals of Little Mitten and designated St. Nicholas's Cage. Under the last-named chapel were interred some of the pass-leaves of Whizroll, and here lay the last unfortunate abbot of Whaley, between whose grave and the Ascherton and Braddell families a fatal relation was supposed to subsist. Another large pew, allocated to the townlies and designated St. Anthony's Cage, was rendered remarkable by a characteristic speech of Sir John Townley, which gave much offense to the neighbouring dames. Called upon to decide as to the position of the sittings in the church, the discourteous knight made choice of St. Anthony's Cage, already mentioned, declaring, My man shuttleworth of hacking made this form, and here will I sit when I come, and my cousin Knowle may make a seat behind me, if he please, and my son Sherburne shall make one on the other side, and master Caterall another behind him, and for the residue the use shall be first come first speed, and that will make the proud wives of Whaley rise be times to come to church. One can fancy the rough knight's chuckle as he addressed these words to the old clerk, certain of their being quickly repeated to the proud wives, in question. Within the churchyard grew two fine old yew-trees, now long since decayed and gone, but then spreading their dark green arms over the little turf-covered graves. Reared against the buttresses of the church was an old stone coffin, together with a fragment of a curious monumental effigy, likewise of stone, but the most striking objects in the place, and deservedly ranked among the wonders of Whaley, were three remarkable obelisk-shaped crosses set in a line upon pedestals, covered with singular devices in fretwork, and all three differing in size and design. Evidently of the remotest antiquity these crosses were traditionally assigned to poor Linus, who, according to the venerable bee, first preached the gospel in these parts, in the early part of the seventh century, but other legends were attached to them by the vulgar, and dim mystery brooded over them. Vestiges of another people and another faith were likewise here discernible, for where the Saxon forefathers of the village prayed and slumbered in death, the Roman invaders of the Isle had trodden, and per chance performed their religious rites. Some traces of an encampment being found in the church are by the historian of the spot, while the north boundary of the hallowed precincts was formed by a deep fos, once encompassing the nigh obliterated fortification. Besides these records of an elder people, there was another memento of bygone days and creeds in a little hermitage and chapel adjoining it, founded in the reign of Edward III by Henry, Duke of Lancaster, for the support of two reclusives and a priest to say masses daily for him and his descendants. But this pious bequest, being grievously abused in the subsequent reign of Henry VI, by his older heathen, a fair widow, who, in the first transports of grief, vowing herself to heaven, took up her abode in the hermitage, and led a very disorderly life therein to the great scandal of the abbey, and the great prejudice of the morals of its brethren, and at last, tired, even of the slight restraint imposed upon her, fled away, contrary to her oath and profession, not willing nor intending to be restored again. The hermitage was dissolved by the pious monarch, and masses ordered to be said daily in the parish church for the repose of the soul of the founder. Such was the legend attached to the little cell, and tradition went on to say that the anchoress broke her leg in crossing Whaley-Nab, and limped ever afterwards, a just judgment on such a heinous offender. Both these little structures were picturesque objects, being overgrown with ivy and wood-bine. The chapel was completely in ruins, while the cell, profane by the misdoings of the disillute voteress Esola, had been converted into a cage for vagrants and offenders, and made secure by a grated window, and a strong door, studded with broad-headed nails. The view from the churchyard, embracing the vicarage-house, a comfortable residence, surrounded by a large walled-in garden, well-stocked with fruit-trees, and sheltered by a fine grove of rook-haunted timber, extended on the one hand over the village, and on the other over the abbey, and was bounded by the towering and well-wooded heights of Whaley-Nab. On the side of the abbey, the most conspicuous objects were the great north-eastern gateway, with the ruined conventional church. Ever-beautiful, the view was especially so on the present occasion, from the animated scene combined with it, and the pleasant prospect was enjoyed by a large assemblage, who had adjourned thither to witness the concluding part of the festival. Within the green and flower-deck powers, which, as has been before mentioned, were erected in the churchyard, were seated Dr. Ormerod and Sir Ralph Ashton, with such of their respective guests as had not already retired, including Richard and Nicholas Ashton, both of whom had returned from the abbey, the former having been dismissed by Lady Ashton from further attendance upon Allison, and the latter having concluded his discourse with Parson Dewhurst, who indeed accompanied him to the church, and was now placed between the vicar and the rector of Middleton. From this gentle elevation the gay company on the green could be fully discerned, the tall maypole, with its garlands and ribbons, forming a pivot about which the throng ever revolved, while stationary amidst the moving masses the rush-cart reared on high its broad green back, as if to resist the living waves constantly dashed against it. By and by a new kind of movement was perceptible, and it soon became evident that a procession was being formed. Immediately afterwards the rush-cart was put in motion, and winded slowly along the narrow street leading to the church, preceded by the Morris dancers and the other May Day revelers, and followed by a great concourse of people shouting, dancing, and singing. On came the crowd, the jingling of bells and the sound of music grew louder and louder, and the procession lost for a while behind some intervening habitations, though the men bestriding the rush-cart could be discerned over their summits, burst suddenly into view, and the revelers entering the church-art drew up on either side of the little path leading to the porch, while the rush-cart, coming up the next moment, stopped at the gate. Then four young maidens dressed in white and having baskets in their hands, advanced and scattered flowers along the path, after which ladders were reared against the sides of the rush-cart, and the men, descending from their exalted position, bore the garlands to the church, preceded by the vicar and the two other divines, and followed by Robin Hood and his band, the Morris dancers, and a troupe of little children singing a hymn. The next step was to unfasten the bundles of rushes, of which the cart was composed, and this was very quickly and skillfully performed, the utmost care being taken of the trinkets and valuables with which it was ornamented. These were gathered together in baskets and conveyed to the vestry and their locked up. This done the bundles of rushes were taken up by several old women, who strewed the aisles with them, and placed such as had been tied up as mats in the pews. At the same time two casks of ale, set near the gate and given for the occasion by the vicar, were broached, and their foaming contents freely distributed among the dancers and the thirsty crowd. Very merry were they, as may be supposed in consequence, but their mirth was happily kept within due limits of decorum. When the rush cart was well nigh unladen, Richard Ascherton entered the church, and greatly pleased with the effect of the flowery garlands with which the various pews were decorated, said as much to the vicar, who smilingly replied that he was glad to find he approved of the practice, even though it might savor of superstition. But as the good doctor walked away, called forth, the young man almost unconsciously turned into the chapel on the north aisle. Here he stood for a few moments, gazing round the church, wrapped in pleasing meditation, in which many objects somewhat foreign to the place and time passed through his mind. When, chanceing to look down, he saw a small funeral wreath of mingled ewe and cypress lying at his feet, and a slight tremor passed over his frame as he found he was standing on the ill-oamened grave of Abbott Passnew. Before he could ask himself by whom this sad garland had been so deposited, Nicholas Ascherton came up to him, and with a look of great uneasiness cried, Come away instantly, Dick, you know where you're standing. On the grave of the last Abbott of Whaley, replied Richard, smiling, Have you forgotten the common saying, cried Nicholas, that the Ascherton who stands on that unlucky grave shall die within the year? Come away at once. It is too late, replied Richard. I have incurred the fate if such a fate be attached to the tomb, and as my moving away will not preserve me, so my tarrying here cannot injure me further, that I have no fear. You have more courage than I possess, rejoined Nicholas. I would not set foot on that accursed stone valf the county. Its malign influence on our house has been proved too often. The first to experience a fatal destiny were Richard Ascherton and John Braddill, the purchasers of the Abbey. Both met here together on the anniversary of the Abbott's execution. Some forty years after its occurrence it is true, and when they were both pretty well stricken in years. And within that year, namely 1578, both died and were buried in the vault on the opposite side of the church, not many paces from their old enemy. The last instance was my poor brother Richard, who, being incredulous as you are, was resolved to brave the destiny, and stationed himself upon the tomb during divine service. But he too died within the appointed time. He was bewitched to death, at least so it is affirmed, said Richard Ascherton with a smile, but I believe in one evil influence just as much as in the other. It matters not how the destiny be accomplished, so it came to pass. Rejoined the squire, turning away, even sheild you from it. Stay, said Richard, picking up the wreath. Who will think you can have placed this funeral garland on the Abbott's grave? I cannot guess, cried Nicholas, staring at it in amazement. An enemy of ours, most likely, it is neither customary nor lawful in our Protestant country, so to ornament graves. Put it down, quick. I shall not displace it, certainly, replied Richard, laying it down again. But I as little think it has been placed here by a hostile hand, as I do that harm will ensure to me from standing here. To leave your anxiety, however, I will come forth, he added, stepping into the aisle. Why should an enemy deposit a garland on the Abbott's tomb, since it was by mere chance that it hath met my eyes? Mere chance! cried Nicholas. Everything is mere chance with you philosophers, though it is more than chance in it. My mind misgives me strangely. That terrible old Abbott Pasnu is as troublesome to us in death as he was during life to our predecessor Richard Asherton. Not content with making his tombstone a weapon of destruction to us, he pays the Abbey itself an occasional visit, and his appearance always betides some disaster to the family. I have never seen him myself, and I just I never shall, but other people have, and have been nice scared out of their senses by the apparition. IDLE TAILS The invention of overheated brains, rejoined Richard. Trust me, the Abbott's rest will not be broken till the day when all shall rise from their tombs. Though if ever the dead, supposing such a thing possible, could be justified in injuring and refriting the living, it might be in his case, since he mainly owed his destruction to our ancestor. On the same principle it has been held that the church-lands are unlucky to their lay possessors. But see how this superstitious notion has been disproved in our own family, to whom Whaley Abbey and its domains have brought wealth, power and worldly happiness. There is something in the notion nevertheless, replied Nicholas, and though our case may, I hope, continue an exception to the rule, most grantees of ecclesiastical houses have found them a curse, and the time may come when the abyss may prove so to our descendants. But without discussing the point, there is one instance in which the malignant influence of the vindictive Abbott has undoubtedly extended long after his death. You have heard, I suppose, that he pronounced a dreadful anatomer on the child of a man who had the reputation of being a wizard, and who afterwards acted as his executioner. I know not the whole particulars of the dark story, but I know that Passlew fixed a curse upon the child, declaring it should become a witch and the mother of witches, and the prediction has been verified. Now, eighty years have flown by since then, and the infant still lives, a fearful and mischievous witch, and all her family has similarly fated all our witches. I never heard the story before, said Richard, somewhat thoughtfully, but I guess to whom you allude, Mother Demdike of Pendle Forest and her family. Precisely, rejoined Nicholas, they are a brood of witches. In that case, Alice and Device must be a witch, cried Richard, and I think you will hardly venture upon such an assertion after what you have seen of her today. If she be a witch, I would, though, many such as fair and gentle, and see you not how easily the matter is explained. Give a dog an ill name and hang him, a proverb with which you are familiar enough. So with Mother Demdike, whether really uttered or not, the abut's curse upon her and her issue has been brooded abroad, and hence she is made a witch, and her children are supposed to inherit the infamous taint. So it is with you, toon. It is said to be dangerous to our family, and dangerous no doubt it is to those who believe in the saying, which luckily I do not. The prophecy works its own fulfilment, the absurdity and injustice of yielding to the opinion of manifest. No wrong can have been done the abut by Mother Demdike any more than by her children, and yet they are to be punished for the misdeeds of their predecessor. Aye, as you and I, or of the third and fourth generation, may be punished for the sins of our fathers, rejoined Nicholas, you have scripture against you, Dick. The only thing I see in favour of your argument is the instance you allege of Allison. She does not look like a witch, certainly. But there is no saying she may only be the more dangerous for her rare beauty and apparent innocence. I would answer for her truth in my life, cried Richard quickly. It is impossible to look at her countenance, in which candour and purity shine forth and doubt her goodness. She has scattered her spells all you, Dick, that's certain, rejoined Nicholas, laughing. But to be serious, Alice and I admit is an exception to the rest of the family, but that only strengthens the general rule. Did you ever remember a strange look they all have? Save the fair maid in question. Have about the eyes. Richard answered in the negative. It is very singular, and I wonder you have not noticed it, pursued Nicholas, but the question of reputed witchcraft in Mother Demdike has some chance of being speedily settled. For Master Potts, the little London lawyer who goes with us to Pendle Forest tomorrow, is about to have her arrested and examined before a magistrate. Indeed, exclaimed Richard, this must be prevented. Why so? exclaimed Nicholas in surprise. Because the prejudice existing against her is sure to convict and destroy her, replied Richard, her great age, infirmities and poverty will be proofs against her. How can she, or any old enfeebled creature like her whose decrepitude and misery should move compassion rather than excite fear? How can such a person defend herself against charges easily made and impossible to refute? I do not deny the possibility of witchcraft even in her own days, though I think it a very unlikely occurrence. But I would determinedly resist giving credit to any tales told by the superstitious vulgar, who, naturally prone to cruelty, have so many motives for avenging imaginary wrongs. It is placing a dreadful weapon in their hands, which they have cunning enough to know the use, but neither mercy nor justice enough to restrain them from using it. Better let one guilty person escape than many innocent perish. So many undefined charges have been brought against Mother Demdike that at last they have fixed a stigma on her name, and made her an object of dread and superstition. She is endowed with mysterious power which would have no effect, if not believed in, and now must be burned because she has called a witch and is doting and vain enough to accept the title. There is something in a witch difficult, say almost impossible, to describe, said Nicholas, but you cannot be mistaken about her, by her general ill course of life, by repeated sets of mischief and by threats, followed by the consequences menace she becomes known. There is much mystery in the matter, not permitted human knowledge entirely to penetrate, but as we know from the scriptures that the sin of witchcraft did exist, and as we have no evidence it has ceased, so it is fair to conclude that there may be practices of the dark offence in our own days, and such are all to be Mother the Demdike and Mother Chatterx. Rival potentates in evil, they contend which shall do most mischief, but it must be admitted the former bears away the bell. If all the ill attributed to her were really caused by her machinations this might be correct, replied Richard, but it only shows her to be more calibrated than the other. In a word, cousin Nicholas, I look upon them as two poor old creatures who persuaded they really possessed their supernatural power accorded to them by the vulgar, strive to act up to their parts, and are mainly assisted in doing so by the credulity and fears of their audience. Admitting the blind credulity of the multitude, said Nicholas, and their prownness to discern the hand of the witch in the most trifling accidents, admitting also their readiness to accuse any old crone unlucky enough to offend them of sorcery, I still believe there are actual practices of the black art, over a brief term of power I have entered into a league with Satan, worship him, and attend his sabbaths, and have a familiar in the shape of a cat, dog, toad, or mole, to obey their beests, transform themselves into various shapes, as a hound, or horse, or hare, raised storms of wind or hail, maimed cattle be witch, and slay human beings, and ride wither they will on broomsticks, but holding the contrary opinion you will not, I appraise, aid master Potts in his quest of witches. I will not, rejoined Richard, on the contrary I will oppose him. But enough of this, let us go forth. And they quitted the church together. As they eschewed into the churchyard they found the Prince of Larba's occupied by the Morris dancers, Robin Hood and his troupe, Dr. Ormerod and Sir Ralph having retired to the Vicarage House. Many merry groups were scattered about, talking, laughing and singing. But two persons, seemingly objects of suspicion and alarm, and shunned by everyone who crossed their path, were advancing slowly towards the three crosses of poor Linus, which stood in a line not far from the church porch. They were females, one about five and twenty, very comely, and habited in smart holiday attire put on with considerable rustic cockatry, so as to display a very neat foot and ankle, and with plenty of ribbons in her fine chestnut hair. The other was a very different person, far advanced in years, bent almost double, palsy-stricken, her arms and limbs shaking, her head nodding, her chin wagging, her snowy locks hanging about her wrinkled visage, her brows and upper lip-fraw, and her eyes almost sightless, the pupils being cased by the thin white film. Her dress of antiquated make and faded stuff had once been deep red in colour, and her old black hat was high-crowned and broad-brimmed. She partly aided herself in walking with a crutch-handled stick, and partly lent upon her younger companion for support. Why, there is one of the old women we have just been speaking of, Mother Chatex, said Richard, pointing them out, and with her her granddaughter, Pretty Nand's Redfern. So it is, cried Nicholas. What makes the old haggier I marvel? I will go question her. So saying, he strode quickly towards her. How now, Mother Chatex? he cried. What mischief is afoot? What makes the darkness-loving owl abroad in the glare of day? What brings the grisly she-wolf from her forest lair? Back to thy den, old witch. Not crazed, as well as blind and palsy, that thou knowest not that this is a merry making, and not a devil's sabbath? Back to thy auto, I say. These sacred precincts are no place for thee. How is it spakes to me? demanded the old hagg, halting, and fixing her glazed eyes upon him. One thou hast much injured, replied Nicholas, one in two's house thou hast brought quick-wasting sickness and death by thy infernal arts. One thou hast good reason to fear, for learn to thy confusion thou damned and murderous witch. It is Nicholas, brother to thy victim, Richard Asherton of Downham, who speaks to thee. I know none I have reason to fear, replied Mother Chatex, especially thee, Nicholas Asherton. Thy brother would know victim of mine. Thou wert the gain of I is death, not I. Why should I slay him? I'll tell thee why, old hag. He was inflamed by the beauty of thy granddaughter Nancy here, and it was to please Tom Redd for her sweet art, then, for her spouse since, that thou bewitched him to death. That reason were not availed thee, Nicholas. Rejoin, Mother Chatex, with a derisive laugh. If I had any hand in his death it was to serve a pleasure thee, that the tall men shall know if I'm questioned on the subject. Take me to the crosses, Nance. Thou shall not escape dost thou murderous hag, cried Nicholas furiously. Nay, let her go her way, said Richard, who had drawn near during the colloquy. No good will come of meddling with her. How was that? asked Mother Chatex quickly. Master Richard Asherton, a Middleton, whispered man Redfern. Oh, none of the damned cursed in Asherton's, cried Mother Chatex. The plague says them. Well, he's well favoured and kindly, remarked her granddaughter. Well, favoured, though not kindly or cool, I hate them all, cried Mother Chatex. To the crosses, I say. But Nicholas placed himself in their path. Is it to pray to Beelzebub thy master thou wouldst go to the crosses? He asked. That and thy way bestilent fool, cried the hag. Thou shalt not stir till I have had an answer, rejoined Nicholas. They say those are runic obelisks and not Christian crosses, and that the carvings upon them have a magical signification. The first it is a word is written o'er with deadly curses, and the forms in which they are traced as serpentine, triangular or round, indicate and rule their swift or slow effect. The second bears charms against diseases, storms and lightning. And on the third is inscribed a verse which will render him who can read it, rightly, invisible to mortal view. Thou shalt be learned it, in such low, old pythoness, is it so? The hag's chin wagged fearfully, and her frame trembled with passion, but she spoke not. Have you been in the church, old woman? Interposed Richard. Aye, wherefore? she rejoined. Someone has placed a cypress wreath on Albert Pasnew's grave. Was it you? he asked. What? Has thou found it? cried the hag. It shall bring thee rare luck, lad. Rare luck! Now let me pass. Not yet, said Nicholas, forcibly grasping her withered arm. The hag uttered a scream of rage. Let me go, Nicola Satterton, she shriek. Or thou shalt rue it. Cramps and aches shall ring, and rack thy flesh and bones. Beaver shall consume thee. I, you, shall shake thee, shake thee, ha! And Nicholas recoiled appalled by her fearful gestures. You carry your malignity too far, old woman, said Richard, severely. And thou darest tell me so? cried the hag. Set me before it, and said I may curse him, she added, raising her pals' arm. You'd cursed over much already, grandmother, cried Nan Redfern, endeavouring to drag her away. But the old woman resisted. I will teach him to cross my path. She vociferated in accent shrill and jarring as the cry of the goat-sucker. Answer me is it may be now, but he shall not be so long. The bloom shall fade from his cheek, the fire be extinguished in his eyes, the strength depart from his limbs. Sorrow shall be her portion who loves him, sorrow and shame. Horrible, exclaimed Richard, endeavouring to exclude the voice of the crone, which pierced his ear like some sharp instrument. Ha! Ha! Ha! You fear me now! By this and this the spell shall work, she added, describing a circle in the air with her stick, then crossing it twice, and finally scattering over him a handful of gravedust, snatch from an adjoining hillock. Now lead me quickly to the smaller cross, Nance, she added, in a low tone. Her granddaughter complied, with a glance of deep compassion at Richard, who remained stupefied at the ominous proceedings. All was a stir in an instant. Robin Hood and his merry men, with the Morris dancers, rushed out of their bowers, and the whole churchyard was in agitation. Above the din was heard the loud voice of Simon's sparshot, still shouting, A witch! A witch! More than a chattox! Where? Where? demanded several voices. Yonder! replied Nicholas, pointing to the further cross. A general movement took place in that direction, the crowd being headed by the squire and the beetle. When they came up, they found only Nan Redfern standing behind the obelisk. Well, a devil is the old witch gone, dick! cried Nicholas in dismay. I thought I saw her standing there with her granddaughter, replied Richard. But in truth I did not watch very closely. Search for her, search for her! cried Nicholas. But neither behind the crosses nor behind any monument, nor in any hole or corner, nor on the other side of the churchyard wall, nor at the back of the little hermitage or chapel, though all were quickly examined, could the old hag be found? On being questioned, Nan Redfern refused to say ought concerning her grandmother's flight or place of concealment. I begin to think there is some truth in that strange legend at the cross, said Nicholas. Notwithstanding her blindness, the old hag must have managed to read the magic verse upon it, and so have rendered herself invisible. But we have got the young witch safe. Yay, squire! responded Smarshot, who had seized hold of Nan's. Who'll be safe enough? Nan Redfern is no witch, cried Richard Asherton authoritatively. No witch, Master Ruttered! cried the beetle in amazement. No more than any of these lasses around us, said Richard. Ridley's her Sparshot. I forbid him to do so till she has been examined, cried a sharp voice, and the next moment Master Potts was seen pushing his way through the crowd. So you have found a witch, my masters! I heard your shouts, and hurried on as fast as I could. Just in time, Master Nicholas, just in time, he added, rubbing his hands gleefully. Let me go, Simon! besought Nan's. No, no, that's not want to be! rejoined Sparshot. Help! save me, Master Richard! cried the young woman. By this time the crowd had gathered round her, yelling, hooting, and shaking their hands at her as if about to tear her in pieces. But Richard Asherton planted himself resolutely before her, and pushed back the foremost of them. Remove her instantly to the abbey, Sparshot! he cried, and let her be kept in safe custody till Sir Ralph has had time to examine her. Will that contend, you masters? No, no! responded several rough voices. Swimmer! swimmer! Quite right, my worthy friends, quite right! said Potts. Primo, let us make sure she is a witch. Secundo, let us take her to the abbey. There can be no doubt to her being a witch, Master Potts. Rejoined Nicholas, their old grand-day Mother Chatex has just vanished from our sight. Has Mother Chatex been here? cried Potts, opening his round eyes to their widest extent. Not many minutes since, replied Nicholas. In fact, she may be here still, for all I know. Here? where? cried Potts, looking round. You won't discover her for all your quickness, replied Nicholas. She has rendered herself invisible by reciting the magical verse inscribed on that cross. Indeed! exclaimed the attorney, closely examining the mysterious inscriptions. What strange uncouth characters I can make neither head nor tail, unless it be the devil's tail, of them! At this moment a hoop was raised by a gem device, who, having taken his little sister home, had returned to the sports on the green, and now formed part of the assemblage in the churchyard. Between the rival witch-potentates, Mother's Demdike and Chatex, it has already been said a deadly enemy existed, and the feud was carried on with equal animosity by their descendants. And though gem himself came under the same suspicion as Nan Redfern, that circumstance created no tie of interest between them, that the contrary, and he was the most active of her assailants. He had set up the above-mentioned cry, from observing a large rat running along the side of the wall. There goes! whoop-gem, dod-witch, chipper-rutton! Half the crowd started in pursuit of the animal, and twenty sticks were thrown at it, but a stone cast by gem stayed its progress, and it was instantly dispatched. It did not change, however, as was expected by the credulous Heinz into an old woman, and they gave vent to their disappointment and rage in renewed threats against Nan Redfern. The dead rat was hurled at her by gem, but, missing its mark, it hit master-pots on the head, and nearly knocked him off the cross upon which he had mounted to obtain a better view of the proceedings. Irritated by this circumstance, as well as by the failure of the experiment, the little attorney jumped down and fell to kicking the unfortunate rat, after which, his fury being somewhat appeased, he turned to Nan's, who had sunk for support against the pedestal, and said to her, If you will tell us what has become of the old witch your grandmother, and undertake to bear witness against her, you shall be set free. I tell you now, Mon, replied Nan's doggedly, Put me to any tile you like, as Shanna get a word from me. There remains to be seen, retorted-pots, that I apprehend we shall make you speak, and pretty plainly too, before we've done with you. You hear what this perverse and wrong-headed young witch declares, masters, he shouted, again clambering upon the cross, I have offered her liberty on condition of disclosing to us the manner of her diabolical old relative's evasion, and she rejects it. An angry roar followed, mixed with cries from gem-device of, Swemma! Swemma! You had better tell them what you know, Nan's, said Richard, in a low tone, or I shall have difficulty in preserving you from their fury. I dare not, Master Richard, she replied, shaking her head, and then she added firmly, I win her, finding it useless to reason with her, and fearing also that the infuriated crowd might attempt to put their threats into execution, Richard turned to his cousin Nicholas, and said, We must get her away, or violence will be done. She does not deserve your compassion, Dick, replied Nicholas. She is only a few degrees better than the old hag who has escaped. Sparshot here tells me she is noted for her skill in modelling clay figures. Yeah, that her be, replied the broad-faced beedle, as all her carnival clever at that sort of work. A clear figure as big as a six-month-been, passion-lit lackness of far the grimble of rare griff lawn, as dine last month were found in her cottage, and many others beside. Among them, a model of your lamented brother's squire, Richard Ascherton, had down them, where he had pulled off from out, pierced through and through with pins and needles. You lie in your teeth, Simon, Sparshot, cried Nance, regarding him furiously. If Ed were off, Simon, I don't see how the lackness to my poor brother could well be recognised, said Nicholas with a half-smile. But let her be put to some mild trial, weird against the Church Bible. Be it so, replied Potts, jumping down, but if that fail we must have recourse to stronger measures. Take notice that with all her fright she has not been able to shed a tear, not a single tear, a clear witch. And scorn to weep, but like a yoo! cried Nance, disdainfully, having now completely recovered her natural audacity. We will soon break your spirit, young woman, I can promise you, rejoined Potts. As soon as it was known what was about to occur, the whole crowd moved towards the Church porch, Nan Redfern walking between Richard Ascherton and the Beedle, who kept hold of her arm to prevent any attempt at escape, and by the time they reached the appointed place, Ben Baggley, the baker, who had been dispatched for the purpose, appeared with an enormous pair of wooden scales, while Samson Harrop, the clerk, having visited the pulpit, came forth with the Church Bible, an immense volume bound in black, with great silver clasps. Come, that's a good big Bible at any event, cried Potts, eyeing it with satisfaction. It looks like my honourable and singularly good Lord Chief Justice, Sir Edward Cook's learned institutes of the Laws of England. Only that great legal tome is generally bound in carf, law-carf, as we say. Large as the book is, it will scarce prove heavy enough to weigh down the witch-eye pine, observed Nicholas with a smile. We shall see, sir, replied Potts, we shall see. By this time, the scales having been affixed to a hook in the porch by Baggley, the sacred volume was placed on one side, and Nan's was set down by the Beedle on the other. The result of the experiment was precisely what might have been anticipated. The moment the young woman took her place in the balance, it sank down to the ground, while the other kicked the beam. I hope you are satisfied now, Master Potts, cried Richard Ascherton, by your own trial her innocence is approved. You're pardoned, Master Richard, this is Squire Nicholas's trial. Not mine, replied Potts, I am for the ordeal of swimming. How's it, you masters? Shall we be content with this doubtful experiment? No, no! responded Jem Device, who acted as spokesman to the crowd. Swimmer! Swimmer! I knew you would have it so, said Potts approvingly. Where is the fitting place for the trial? I'll be pulled no far off, replied Jem, or your contekka to the cold. The river, by all means, nothing like a running stream, said Potts. Let chords be procured to mind her. Run for her, quickly, Ben, said Jem to Bagley, who was very zealous in the cause. Oh! grown Nance again, losing courage and glancing piteously at Richard. No outrage like this shall be perpetrated, cried the young man firmly. I call upon you, cousin Nicholas, to help me. Go into the church, he added, thrusting Nance backward, and presenting his sword at the breast of Jem Device, who attempted to follow her, and who retired muttering threats and curses. I will run the first man through the body who attempts to pass. As Nan Renfer made good her retreat, and shut the church door after her, Master Potts, pale with rage, cried out to Richard, You have aided the escape of a desperate and notorious offender, actually in custody, sir, and have rendered yourself reliable to indictment for it, sir, with consequences of fine and imprisonment, sir. Heavy fine and long imprisonment, sir, do you mark me, Master Briton? I will answer the consequences of my act to those empowered to question it, sir, replied Richard sternly. Well, sir, I have given you notice. Rejoined Potts, do you notice? We shall hear what Sir Ralph will say to the matter, and Master Roger Knowle, and you forget me, good Master Potts, interrupted Nicholas laughingly, I entirely disapprove of it. It is a most flagrant breach of duty. Nevertheless, I am glad the poor wench has got off. She is safe within the church, said Potts, and I command Master Richard in the king's name to let us pass. Beedle, Sharpshot, Sparshot, or whatever your confounded name, do your duty, sir, enter the church and bring forth the witch. Ah, dear no, Master, replied Simon, look, Master Richard has slipped me ways and has always looked at me. Richard put an end to further altercation by stepping back quickly, locking the door, and then taking out the key, and putting it into his pocket. She is quite safe now, he cried with a smile at the discomforted lawyer. Is there no other door? inquired Potts of the Beedle in a low tone. Yeah, there be one at the other side, replied Sparshot, but it be locked, I reckon, and maybe you've gotten out that way. Quick, quick, let's see! cried Potts. Justice must not be thwarted in this shameful manner. While the greater part of the crowd set off after Potts and the Beedle, Richard Ashton, anxious to know what had become of the fugitive, and determined not to abandon her while any danger existed, unlocked the church door, and entered the holy structure followed by Nicholas. On looking around, Nance was nowhere to be seen. Neither did she answer to his repeated calls, and Richard concluded she must have escaped, when all at once a loud, exulting shout was heard without, leaving no doubt that the poor young woman had again fallen into the hands of her captors. The next moment, a sharp, piercing scream in a female key confirmed this supposition. On hearing this cry, Richard instantly flew to the opposite door, through which Nance must have passed, but on trying it he found it fastened outside, and filled with sudden misgiving, for he now recollected leaving the key in the other door, he called to Nicholas to come with him, and hurried back to it. His apprehensions were verified, the door was locked. At first Nicholas was inclined to laugh at the trick played on them, but a single look from Richard checked his tendency to merriment, and he followed his young relative, who had sprung to a window, looking out upon that part of the churchyard whence the shouts came, and flung it open. Richard's egress, however, was prevented by an iron bar, and he called out loudly and fiercely to the beadle, whom he saw standing in the midst of the crowd to unlock the door. Have a little patience, good master Richard! replied Potts, turning up his provoking little visage, now charged with triumphant malice. You shall come out presently, we are busy just now, engaged in binding the witch as you see. Both keys are safely in my pocket, and I will send you one of them when we start for the river, good master Richard. We lawyers are not to be overreached, you see. Ha! You shall repent this conduct when I do get out, cried Richard furiously. Sparshot! I command you to bring the key instantly. But encouraged by the attorney, the beadle affected not to hear Richard's angry reciprocations, and the others were unable to aid the young man if they had been so disposed, and all were too much interested in what was going forward to run off to the vicarage and acquaint Sir Ralph with the circumstances in which his relatives were placed, even though enjoined to do so. On being set free by Richard, Nance had flown quickly through the church, and passed out at the side door, and was making good her retreat at the back of the edifice, when her flying figure was described by Gem device, who, failing in his first attempt, had run round that way, fancying he should catch her. He instantly dashed after her with all the fury of a bloodhound, and being possessed of remarkable activity, speedily overtook her, and heedless of her threats and entreaties secured her. Let me go, Gem! she cried, and I wouldn't do the good turn one of these days when I might chance to be in the same straight as me. But seeing him inexorable, she added, My Grand-Dame shall wrack thy born soul in hand for this! Gem replied by a coarse laugh of defiance, and dragging her along delivered her to Master Potts and the Beedle, who were then hurrying to the other door of the church. To prevent interruption, the cunning attorney, having ascertained that the two Aschitans were inside, instantly gave orders to have both doors locked, and the injunctions being promptly obeyed, he took possession of the keys himself, chuckling at the success of the stratagem. A fair reprisal, he muttered, this young milk-soup shall find he is no match for a schoolful lawyer like me. Now, the chords, the chords! It was at the sight of the bonds, which were quickly brought by Bagley, that Nan shuttered the piercing cry that had roused Richard's indignation. Feeling secure of his prisoner, and now no longer apprehensive of interruption, Master Potts was in no hurry to conclude the arrangements, but rather prolonged them to exasperate Richard. Little consideration was shown the unfortunate captive. The new shoes and stockings of which he had been so vain a short time before were torn from her feet and limbs by the rude hands of the remorseless gem and the Beedle, and bent down by the main force of those two strong men, her thumbs and great toes were tightly bound together, crosswise by the gourds. The churchyard rang with her shrieks, and with his blood boiling with indignation at the sight, Richard redoubled his exertions to burst through the window and fly to her assistance. But though Nicholas now lent his powerful aid to the task, their combined efforts to obtain liberation were unavailing, and with rage almost amounting to frenzy, Richard beheld the poor young woman born shrieking away by her captors. Nor was Nicholas much less incensed, and he swore a deep oath, when he did get at liberty, that Master Potts should pay dearly for his rascally conduct. Harrison Ainsworth Book 1. Allison Device Chapter 6. The Ordeal by Swimming Bound hand and foot in the painful posture before described, roughly and insolently handled on all sides, in peril of her life from the frightful ordeal to which she was about to be subjected, the miserable captive was born along on the shoulders of Gem Device and Sparshot, her long fine chestnut hair trailing upon the ground, her white shoulders exposed to the insolent gaze of the crowd, and her trim holiday attire torn to rags by the rough treatment she had experienced. Nance Redfern, it has been said, was a very comely young woman, but neither her beauty, her youth, nor her sex had any effect upon the ferocious crowd, who were too much accustomed to such brutal and debasing exhibitions to feel anything but savage delight in the spectacle of a fellow creature so scandalously treated and tormented, and the only excuse to be offered for their barbarity is the firm belief they entertained that they were dealing with a witch. And when, even in our own day, so many revolting scenes are enacted to gratify the brutal passions of the mob, while prize-fights are tolerated and wretched animals goaded on to tear each other in pieces, it is not to be wondered at that in times of less enlightenment and refinement greater cruelties should be practiced. Indeed, it may be well to consider how far we have really advanced in civilization since then, for until cruelty, whether to man or beast, be wholly banished from our sports, we cannot just literally reproach our ancestors, nor congratulate ourselves on our improvement. Nancy's cries of distress were only answered by jeers and renewed insults, and wearied out at length the poor creature ceased struggling and shrieking the dogged resolution she had before exhibited again coming to her aid. But her fortitude was to be yet more severely tested, revealed by the disorder of her habiliments, and contrasting strongly with the extreme whiteness of her skin, a done-colored mole was discovered upon her breast. It was pointed out to pots by gem-device, who declared it to be a witch-mark, and the spot from where her familiar drained her blood. This is one of the good-helps to the discovery of a witch pointed out by our sovereign Lord the King, said the attorney, narrowly examining the spot. The one, Seath our wise prince, is the finding of their mark and the trying of the insensibleness thereof. The other is there fleeting on the water. The water ordeal will come presently, but the insensibility of the mark might at once be attested. Yeah, that consort betrayed, cried gem, with a savage laugh, and taking a pin from his sleeve, the ruffian plunged it deeply into the poor creature's flesh. Nancy winced, but she set her teeth hardly, and repressed the cry that must otherwise have been rung from her. A clear witch, cried gem, drawing forth the pin, not a drop of blood-floors, and her feels not. Feel not! rejoined Nancy between her ground teeth, may have a pang as sharp in your cancered heart, you villain! After this barbarous test, the crowd, confirmed by it in their notions of Nancy's guiltiness, hurried on, their numbers increasing as they proceeded along the main street of the village, leading towards the river. All the villagers left at home, rushing forth on hearing a witch was about to be sworn, and when they came within a bow-shot of the stream, Sparshot called to Bagley to lay hold of Nancy, while he himself, accompanied by several of the crowd, ran over the bridge, the part he had to enact, requiring him to be on the other side of the water. Meantime the main party turned down a little footpath, protected by a gate on the left, which led between garden hedges to the grassy banks of the Calder, and in taking this course they passed by the cottage of Elizabeth's device. Hearing the shouts of the rabble, little Janet, who had been in no very happy frame of mind since she had been brought home, came forth, and seeing her brother, called out to him in her usual sharp tones, What's the matter, Gem? What have you got in there? A witch, replied Gem gruffly, Nance Redfern, mother of Chatex's granddaughter, come and see her, swarming the Calder. Janet readily complied, for her curiosity was aroused, and she shared in the family feelings of dislike to mother Chatex and her descendants. Is this Nance Redfern? she cried, keeping close to her brother, and, like glad young quarter at last, ah, don't you find yourself Nance? Illetease, Janet, replied Nance, with a bitter look, boy, it becomes you to cheer me last, seeing as you're a born witch yourself. Aha! cried parts, looking at the little girl. So, this is a born witch, eh, Nance? A brawn and bred witch, rejoined Nance, just as her brother, Gem, here, is a wizard, and the grandchildren of mother Demdike, a pendle. The greatest witch in these parts, and children, a best device, it was none much better. Ask me to witness again, and that's all. Ah, detongue woman, I'll drown thee, muttered Gem in a tone of deep menace. You can no more define the witch you call me, rejoined Nance. Janet's turn'll come, as well as mine, one of these days. Mark my words. If I had that, I shall see you, burn you, fangots! cried Janet, almost fiercely. You can get the fiend's mark on your sleeve, cried Nance. Ah, see it written in letters of blood. That's when our cat scratted me, replied Janet, hiding her arm quickly. Good, very good! Observed parts, rubbing his hands. Who but witches can be proof against witches, saith our sagacious sovereign. I shall make something of this girl. She seems a remarkably quick child, remarkably quick. By this time the party, having gained the broad flat mead, through which the caulder flowed, took their way quickly towards its banks. The spot selected for the ordeal, lying about fifty yards above the weir, where the current, ordinarily rapid, was checked by the dam, offering a smooth surface, and with considerable depth of water. If soft, natural beauties could have subdued the hearts of those engaged in this cruel and wicked experiment, never was seen better calculated for the purpose than that under contemplation. Through a lovely green valley meandered the caulder, now winding round some verdant knoll, now washing the base of lofty heights feathered with timber to their very summits, now lost amid thick woods, and only discernible at intervals by a glimmer amongst the trees. Immediately in front of the assemblage rose whaley nab, its steep sides and brow partly covered with timber, with green patches in the uplands where sheep and cattle fed. Just below the spot where the crowd were collected, the stream, here of some width, passed over the weir, and swept in a foaming cascade over the huge stones supporting the dam, giving the rushing current, the semblance, and almost the beauty of a natural waterfall. Below this the stream ran brawling on in a wider but shallower channel, making pleasant music as it went, and leaving many dry beds of sand and gravel in the midst, while a hundred yards lower down it was crossed by the arches of the bridge. Further still a row of tall cypresses lined the bank of the river, and screened that part of the abbey converted into a residence by the Ashitans. And after this came the ruins of the refectory, the cloisters, the dormitory, the conventional church, and other parts of the venerable structure, overshadowed by noble lime trees and elms. Lovelier or more peaceful scene could not be imagined. The green meads, the bright clear stream, with its white foaming weir, the woody heights reflected in the glassy waters, the picturesque old bridge, and the dark gray ruins beyond it, might have engaged the attention and melted the heart. Then the hour when evening was coming on, and when each beautiful object, deriving new beauty from the medium through which it was viewed, exercised a softening influence, and awakened kindly emotions. To most the scene was familiar, and therefore it could have no charm of novelty. To Potts, however, it was altogether new, but he was susceptible of few gentle impressions, and neither the tender beauty of the evening, nor the wooing loveliness of the spot, awakened any responsive emotion in his breast. He was dead to everything except the ruthless experiment about to be made. Almost at the same time that Jen Device and his party reached the near bank of the stream, the beetle and the others appeared on the opposite side. Little was said, but instant preparations were made for the ordeal. Two long coils of rope having been brought by Bagley, one of them was made fast to the right arm of the victim, and the other to the left. And this done, Jen Device shouting to Sparshot to look out, flung one coil of rope across the river, where it was caught with much dexterity by the beetle. The assemblage then spread out on the bank, while Jen, taking the poor young woman in his arms, who neither spoke, nor struggled, but held her breath tightly, approached the river. "'Don't it run, Jen?' said Jenit, who had turned very pale. "'Be quiet, Wench,' rejoined Jen, gruffly. And without bestowing further attention upon her, he let down his burden carefully into the water, and this achieved, he called out to the beetle, who drew her slowly towards him, while Jen guided her with the other rope. The crowd watched the experiment for a few moments in profound silence. But as the poor young woman, who had now reached the centre of the stream, still floated, being supported either by the tension of the cords, or by her woolen apparel, a loud shout was raised that she could not sink, and was therefore an undeniable witch. "'Steady lads, steady a moment,' cried Potts, enchanted with the success of the experiment. "'Leave her where she is, that her buoyancy may be fully attested.' "'You know, masters,' he cried with a loud voice. "'The meaning of this water ordeal. "'Our sovereign Lord and Master the King, in his wisdom, hath graciously vouchsafe to explain the matter thus. "'Water,' he said, shall refuse to receive them, meaning witches, of course, in her bosom, that hath shaken off their sacred water of baptism, and willfully refused the benefit thereof. "'It is manifest, you see, that this diabolical young woman hath renounced her baptism for the water rejected her, non-potest-mergy, as Pliny says. She floats like a cork, or as if the clear water of the caulder had suddenly become like the slab-salt waves of the dead sea in which nothing can sink. "'You behold the marvel with your own eyes, my masters?' "'Eye, eye,' returned baggily and several others. "'Oh, be a witch for certain,' cried Jem device. But as he spoke, chancing slightly to slacken the rope, the tension of which maintained the equilibrium of the body, the poor woman instantly sank. A groan, as much of disappointment as sympathy, broke from the spectators. But non-attempted to aid her, and on seeing her sink, Jem abandoned the rope altogether. But assistance was at hand. Two persons rushed quickly and furiously to the spot. They were Richard and Nicholas Ascherton. The iron bar had at length yielded to their efforts, and the first use they made of their freedom was to hurry to the river. A glance showed them what had occurred, and the younger Ascherton, unhesitatingly plunging into the water, seized the rope dropped by Jem, and calling to the beetle to let go his hold, dragged forth the poor half-drowned young woman, and placed her on the bank, hewing a sunder the cords that bound her hands and feet with his sword. But though still sensible, Nance was so much exhausted by the shock she had undergone, and her muscles were so severely strained by the painful and unnatural posture to which she had been compelled that she was wholly unable to move. Her thumbs were blackened and swollen, and the cords had cut in the flesh, while blood trickled down from the puncture in her breast. Fixing a look of inexpressible gratitude upon her preserver, she made an effort to speak, but the exertion was too great. Violent hysterical sobbing came on, and her senses soon after foresuck her. Richard called loudly for assistance, and the sentiments of the most humane part of the crowd having undergone a change, since the failure of the ordeal, some females came forward and took steps for her restoration. Sensibility having returned, a cloak was wrapped around her, and she was conveyed to a neighbouring cottage and put to bed, where her stiffened limbs were chafed and warm drinks administered, and it began to be hoped that no serious consequences would ensue. Meanwhile, a catastrophe had well now occurred in another quarter. With eyes flashing with fury, Nicholas Asherton pushed aside the crowd, and made his way to the bank whereupon Master Pot stood. Not liking his looks, the little attorney would have taken to his heels but finding escape impossible. He called upon Bagley to protect him, but he was instantly in the forcible grip of the squire who shouted, I'll take you, mongrelhound, to play tricks with gentlemen. Master Nicholas cried the terrified and half-strangled attorney, my very good sir, I entreat you to let me alone. This is a breach of the king's peace, sir, assault and battery under aggravated circumstances, and punishable with ignominious corporal penalties, besides fine and imprisonment, sir, I take you to witness this old master Bagley. I shall bring my ac-ac-action. Then you shall have something to bring your ac-ac-action for rascal, cried Nicholas, and seizing the attorney by the nape of the neck with one hand, and the hind-wings of his doublet with the other, he cast him to a considerable distance into the river, where he fell with a tremendous splash. He is no wizard at any event, laughed Nicholas, as pots went down like a lump of lead. But the attorney was not born to be drowned, at least at this period of his career. On rising to the surface, a few seconds after his immersion, he roared lustily for help, but would infallibly have been carried over the weir, if gem-device had not flung him the rope, now disengaged from Nan's red-fern, and which he succeeded in catching. In this way he was dragged out, and as decrepit up the bank, with the wet pouring from his apparel, which now clung tightly to his lathi limbs, he was greeted by the jeers of Nicholas. How like you, the water-old deal! Nay, master attorney! No occasion for a second trial, I think. If gem-device had known his own interest, he would have left you to fatten the gold rails. But he will find it out in time. You will find it out to, master Nicholas, rejoined parts, clapping on his wet cap. Take me to the dragon-quickly-good fellow, he added, to gem-device, and I will recompense thee for thy pains, as well as for the service thou hast just rendered me. I shall have rheumatism in my joints, pains in my loins, and room in my head. Oh, dear, oh, dear! In which case you will not be able to pay Mother Demdike your purposed visit to-morrow. Dear Nicholas, you forgot you were to arrest her and bring her before a magistrate. Thy arm-good fellow, thy arm! said parts to gem-device. To the fiend, were they? cried gem, shaking him off roughly. The squire's rate, would he, and let thee drown. What, have you changed your mind already, gem? cried Nicholas, in a taunting tone. You will have your grandmother's thanks for the service you've rendered her, lad. But that's her toe-pins, I'd bitch him in again! Gral gem, eyeing the attorney of scants. No, no, gem, observed Nicholas, things must take their course. What's done is done, but if Master Potts be wise, he'll take himself out of court without delay. You'll be glad to get me out of court one of these days, squire, muttered Potts, and so will you too, Master James-device. A day of reckoning will come for both, heavy reckoning. Oh, oh, he added, shivering, oh, my teeth-chatter! Make what haste you can to the dragon, cried the good-natured squire, get your clothes dried, and bid John Law brew you a bottle of strong sack. Swallow it, scalding heart, and you'll never look behind you. No, before me either, retorted Potts, scalding sack, this bloodthirsty squire, and has a new design upon my life. And go with it to the dragon-mister, said baggily, they now may. Thank you, friend, replied Potts, taking his arm. A word of parting, Master Nicholas. This is not the only discovery of which craft I've made, I have another case, somewhat nearer home. With this he hobbled off in the direction of the ale-house, his steps being traceable along the dusty road, like the course of a watering-cart. Ah, and go after him, growled Jem. No you won't, lad, rejoin Nicholas, and if you'll take my advice, you'll get out of Waley as fast as you can. You'll be safer on the heath of Pendle than here, when Sir Ralph and Master Roger Noel come to know what's taken place. And mind this, Sarah, the owens will be out in the forest, to-morrow. You heed! Jem growled something in reply, and, ceasing his little sister's hand, strode off with her towards his mother's dwelling, uttering not a word, by the way. Having seen Nancy Redfern conveyed to the cottage, as before mentioned, Richard Ascherton, regardless of the wet state of his own apparel, now joined his cousin the squire, and they walked to the abbey together, conversing on what had taken place, while the crowd dispersed, some returning to the bowers in the churchyard, and others to the green, their merriment in no wise damped by the recent occurrences, which they looked upon as part of the day's sport. As some of them passed by, laughing, singing, and dancing, Richard Ascherton remarked, I can scarcely believe these to be the same people I so lately saw in the churchyard. They then seemed totally devoid of humanity. Sure, they're human enough, rejoin Nicholas, but you cannot expect them to show mercy to a witch any more than to a wolf or other savage and devouring beast. But the means taken to prove her guilt were as absurd as iniquitous, said Richard, and savor of the barbarous ages, if she had perished all concerned in the trial, would have been guilty of murder. But no judge would condemn them. Return, Nicholas, and they have the highest authority in the realm to uphold them. As to leniency to witches, in the general way I would show none. Traitors are like a god and man and bond slaves of Satan. They are out of the pale of Christian charity. No criminal, however great, is out of the pale of Christian charity, replied Richard, but such scenes as we have just witnessed are a disgrace to humanity and a mockery of justice. When seeking to discover and punish one offence, a grater is committed. Suppose this poor young woman really guilty. What then? Our laws are made for protection as well as punishment of wrong. She should be arraigned, convicted and condemned before punishment. Our laws admit of torture, Richard, observed Nicholas. True, said the young man with a shudder, and it is another relic of a ruthless age, but torture is only allowed under the eye of the law, and can be inflicted by none but its sworn servants. But supposing this poor young woman innocent of the crime imputed to her, which I really believe her to be, how then will you excuse the atrocities to which she has been subjected? I do not believe her innocent. Rejoin Nicholas. Her relationship to a notorious witch and her fabrication of clay images make her justly suspected. Then let her be examined by a magistrate, said Richard. But even then won't be tied her. When I think that Alison Device is liable to the same atrocious treatment, in consequence of her relationship to Mother Demdike, I can scarce contain my indignation. It is unlucky for her indeed, rejoin Nicholas, but of all Nancy's assailants the most infuriated was Alison's brother, Gem Device. I saw it, cried Richard, an uneasy expression passing over his countenance. Would that she could be removed from that family? To what purpose? Demanded Nicholas quickly. Her family are more likely to be removed from her if Master Potts stay in the neighbourhood. Poor girl, exclaimed Richard, and he fell into a reverie which was not broken till they reached the abbey. To return to Gem Device, on reaching the cottage, the Irafian flung himself into a chair, and for a time seemed lost in reflection. At last he looked up and said gruffly to Janet, who stood watching him, See if Mother become all. Aye, aye, aye, I'm here, Gem, said Elizabeth Device, opening the inner door and coming forth. So, yeah, I've been swimming, dance, red fun, lad, eh, I'm glad on it. Gem gave her a significant look, upon which she motioned Janet to withdraw, and the injunction being complied with, though with evident reluctance by the little girl, she closed the door upon her. Now, Gem, what has got to say to me, lad, eh? Demanded Elizabeth, stepping up to him. No great deal, Mother, he replied. But our council did look well after yourself, but are in danger. I know it, lad, I know it, replied Elizabeth, but for my own part I'm no afraid. They'd done a touch me, and if they'd done, I couldn't defend myself real well. Here's a letter to thy grandmother, she added, giving him a sealed packet. Take care on it. For Mr. Nutter, I suppose, asked Gem. Aye, who else should it be from? rejoined Elizabeth. Your grandmother will have enough to do to Nate, and so when you'd told Gem, let him alone the walk from here to Malkin Tower. Well, give me my supper, and I'll set out, rejoined Gem. So, yeah, seen Mr. Nutter. I found her in Abbey Garden, replied Elizabeth, and we had some talk together about the boundary line and her roughly estate and other matters. And as she spoke, she set a cold pasty with oatcakes, cheese and butter before her son, and next proceeded to draw him a jug of ale. What other matters done your main mother, inquired Gem, attacking the pasty, worried out, relating to that little London lawyer, Mr. Potts. How's did it, Gem? replied Elizabeth, seating herself near him. That Potts means to visit thy grandmother tomorrow. Well, said Gem grimly, and arrest her, pursued Elizabeth. Easily said, laughed Gem scornfully, but no quite so easily done. No, no quiet, Gem, responded Elizabeth, joining in the laugh, especially when their dames prepared as she wouldn't be now. Potts may set out to that jury boy when I come back again, remarked Gem in a somber tone. Wait till you've seen your grandmother before you do out, lad, said Elizabeth. I wait, added a voice. What's that? demanded Gem, laying down his knife and fork. Elizabeth did not answer in words, but her significant looks were quite response enough for her son. As you win, mother, he said, in an altered tone. After a pause employed in eating, he added, did Mistress Nutter put many questions to you about Alison? More than enough, lad, replied Elizabeth. For what had I to tell her? She brazed her booty, and said how unlike she were to Janet and the lad, and wondered how I come to have such a daughter, and many other things beside. And what could I say to it, except? Except what, mother? Except she were my child, just as much as Janet and they. Oh! exclaimed Gem. Oh! echoed the voice that had previously spoken. Gem looked at his mother, and took a long pull at the ale-jug. Any more messages to Malkin Tower, he asked, getting up. Ne, mother will understand, replied Elizabeth. Bid her be on her guard, for then a miss abroad. Bain in pots, said Gem. Bain in pots, answered the voice. Oh! strange echoes here, said Gem, looking round suspiciously. At this moment, Tib came from under a piece of furniture, where he had apparently been lying, and rubbed himself familiarly against his legs. Oh! needn't have be so feared about happening to you, mother, said Gem, patting the cat's back. Tib wouldn't take care on ya. Aye, aye, replied Elizabeth, bending down to pat him. He's a trusty cat. But the ill-tempered animal would not be propitiated, but erected his back and menaced her with his claws. Yeah, and offended him, mother, said Gem. One word for a part, a old quiet sure pot's didn't know over here your conversation with Mistress Nutter. Mad asked Gem, she replied. For something the navel threw out to squire Nicholas just now. rejoined Gem. Aye, said he'd another case of witchcraft near her home. What could he mean? What indeed? cried Elizabeth quickly. Looker Tib, exclaimed her son. As he spoke, the cat sprang towards the inner door and scratched violently against it. Elizabeth immediately raised the latch and found Janet behind it with a face like scarlet. You've been listening, ya young eavesdropper! cried Elizabeth, boxing her ears soundly. Take that for your pains, and that. Touch me again, and Master Pot shall know all I need! said the little girl, repressing her tears. Elizabeth regarded her angrily, but the looks of the child were so spiteful that she did not dare to strike her. She glanced too at Tib, but the uncertain cat was now rubbing himself in the most friendly manner against Janet. You shall pay for this lass presently, said Elizabeth. Best navel of all, me mother! rejoined Janet in a determined tone. If you're done, our secret shall out. I know why, Jem's going to mulk in doubt indeed, and why you're a fear, the Master Pot's. How would thou talk, and I'd talk thee little best? cried her mother fiercely. Janet replied with a mocking laugh, while Tib rubbed against her more fondly than ever. Lever alone, interposed Jem, and I won't be off. So, there you will, mother, and you too, Janet. And with this he put on his cap, seized his cudgel, and quitted the cottage. End of Chapter 6