 3. Houghton Tower. CHAPTER I. Manor House. On a lovely morning about the middle of July, in the same year as the events previously narrated, Nicholas Ascherton, always a stir with the lark, issued from his dwelling, and sauntered across the smooth lawn in front of it. The green eminence on which he stood was sheltered on the right by a grove of sycamores, forming the boundary of the park, and sloped down to a valley threaded by a small, clear stream, whose murmuring, as it danced over its pebbly bed, distinctly reached his ear in the stillness of early day. On the left, partly in the valley, and partly on the side of the eclivity on which the hall was situated, nestled the little village, whose inhabitants owned Nicholas as Lord, and to judge from their habitations, they had reason to rejoice in their master. For certainly there was a cheerful air about Downham, which the neighbouring Hamlets, especially those in Pendle Forest, sadly wanted. On the left of the mansion, and only separated from it by the garden walls, stood the church, a venerable structure, dating back to a period more remote even than Whaley Abbey. From the churchyard a view, almost similar to that enjoyed by the squire, was obtained, though partially interrupted by the thick rounded foliage of a large tree growing beneath it, and many a traveller, who came that way, lingered within the hallowed precincts to contemplate the prospect. At the foot of the hill was a small stone bridge crossing the stream. Across the road, and a scarce thirty paces from the church gate, stood a little ale-house, whose comfortable fireside and oak and good liquours were not disdained by the squire. In fact, to his shame, be it spoken, he was quite as often to be found there of an evening as at the hall. This had more particularly been the case since the house was tenanted by Richard Baldwin, who, having given up the mill at Rough Lee, and taken to wife Bess Whittaker of Goldshore Booth, had removed with her to Downham, where he now flourished under the special protection of the squire. Bess had lost none of her old habits of command, and it must be confessed that poor Richard played a very secondary part in the establishment. Nicholas, as may be supposed, was permitted considerable licence by her, but even he had limits, which he took good care he should not exceed. The Downham Domains were well cultivated, the line of demarcation between them and the heathy wastes adjoining, being clearly traced out, and you had only to follow the course of the brook, to see at a glance where the perleuse of the forest ended, and where Nicholas Asherton's property commenced, the one being a dreary moor with here and there a thicket upon it, but more frequently a dangerous morass covered with sulphur-coloured moss, and the other consisting of green meadows bordered in most instances by magnificent timber. The contrast, however, was not without its charm, and while the sterile wastes set off the fair and fertile fields around them, and enhanced their beauty, they offered a wide uninterrupted expanse, over which the eye could range at will. On the further side of the valley, and immediately opposite the lawn whereupon Nicholas stood, the ground gradually arose until it reached the foot of Pendle Hill, which here, assuming its most majestic aspect, constituted the grand and peculiar feature of the scene. Nowhere could the lordly eminence be seen to the same advantage as from this point, when Nicholas contemplated it with feelings of rapture which no familiarity could diminish. The sun shone brightly upon its rounded summit, and upon its seamy sides, revealing all its rifts and ridges, adding depth of tint to its dusky soil, laid bare in places by the winter torrents, lending new beauty to its purple heath, and making its grey sod glow as with fire. So exhilarating was the prospect that Nicholas felt half tempted to cross the valley and scale the hill before breaking his fast, but other feelings checked him, and he turned towards the right. Here beyond the paddock and some outbuildings lay the park, small in extent but beautifully diversified, well-stocked with deer, and boasting much noble timber. In the midst was an exquisite knoll, which, beside commanding a fine view of Pendle Hill, Downham, and all the adjacent country, brought within its scope, on the one hand the ancient castle of Clitheroe, and the heights overlooking Whaley, and on the other the lovely and extensive veil through which the Ribble wandered. This also was a favourite point of view with the squire, and he had some idea of walking towards it when he was arrested by a person who came from the house, and who shouted to him, or slip at Blightly, to stay. The newcomer was a man of middle-age, with a skin almost as tawny as a gypsy's, a hooked nose, black beatling brows, and eyes set so strangely in his head that they communicated a sinister expression to his countenance. He possessed a burly frame, square and somewhat heavy, though not so much as to impede his activity. In deportment and stature, though not in feature, he resembled the squire himself, and the likeness was heightened by his habiliments being part of Nicholas's old wardrobe, the doublet and hose, and even the green hat and boots, being those in which Nicholas made his first appearance in this history. The person who thus condescended to be fed and clothed at the squire's expense, and who filled the situation something between guest and menial without receiving the precise attention of the one, or the wages of the other, but who made himself so useful to Nicholas that he could not dispense with him, neither, perhaps, would he have been shaken off even if it had been desired, was named Lawrence Fogg, an entire stranger to the country whom Nicholas had picked up at Cone, and whom he had invited to Downham for a few weeks hunting, and had never been able to get rid of sins. Lawrence Fogg liked his quarters immensely, and determined to remain in them, and as a means to so desirable an end, he studied all the squire's weak points and peculiarities, and these, not being very difficult to be understood, he soon mastered them, and mastered the squire into the bargain, but without allowing his success to become manifest. Nicholas was delighted to find one with tastes so congenial to his own, who was so willing to hunt or fish with him, who could train a hawk as well as fill royal the valkyne, fire to fighting cock as well as Tom Shaw, the cockmaster, enter a hound, better than Charlie Crouch, the old huntsman, shoot with the longbow further than any one except himself, and was willing to toss off a pot with him, or sing a merry stave whenever he felt inclined. Such a companion was invaluable, and Nicholas congratulated himself upon the discovery, especially when he found Lawrence Fogg not unwilling to undertake some delicate commissions for him, which he could not well execute himself, and which he was unwilling should reach Mistress Ashton's ears. These were managed with equal adroitness and caution. About the same time, too, Nicholas, finding money scarce, and not liking to borrow it in person, delegated Fogg, and sent him round to his friends to ask for a loan, but in this instance the mission was attended with very indifferent success, for not one of them would lend him so small a sum as thirty pounds, all avering that they stood in need of it quite as much as himself. Though somewhat inconvenienced by their refusal, Nicholas bore the disappointment with his customary equanimity, and made merry with his friend as if nothing had happened. Fogg showed an equally accommodating spirit in all religious observances, and though much against his inclination, attended morning discourses and lectures with his patron, and even made an attempt at psalm-singing, but on one occasion, missing the tune and coming in with a bacchanalian chorus, he was severely rebuked by the minister, and enjoined to keep silence in future. Such was the friendly relation subsisting between the parties when they met together on the lawn on the morning in question. Well, Fogg, cried Nicholas, after exchanging salutations with his friend, what's there you to hunting the otter in the rib left to breakfast? It is a rare day for the sport, and the hounds are in excellent order. There's an old dam and a litter which we must kill, for she has been playing the very devil with the fish for a space of more than two miles. And if we let her offer another week, we shall have nada, salmon, trout, nor umber, as all will have passed down the moors of ever-racious brood. And that would be a pity in good so-squire," replied Fogg, for there are no fish like those of the Ribble. Nothing I should prefer to the sport you promise. But I thought you had other business for me to-day. Another attempt to borrow money, eh? Ah, from my cousin Dick Asherton. Rejoin Nicholas. He'll lend me the thirty-pound, I'm quite sure. But you had better defer the visit to-tomorrow when his father, Sir Richard, will be at Whaley, and when you can have him to yourself. Dick will not say you're near-dependant. He is too good a fellow for that. I'm a rain on those close-fisted cumulchions. Roger, Noel, Nicholas, Downley, and Tom Whittaker. They ought to be delighted to oblige me. Well, don't be clear. They have no money," said Fogg. No money? Ha! exclaimed Nicholas. And I had an excuse. They've got chests full. Would I add all Roger, Noel's gold? I should not require another supply for years. But to-death I will not trouble myself for a faulty thirty-pound. If I might venture to suggest a squire, while you have a faulty dog, would that's three hundred pound, or even two, or three hundred? Said Fogg, your friends will think all the better of you and feel more satisfied you intend to be by them. Do you think so? cried Nicholas. Then buy a Bluetooth. It shall be three hundred pound. Three hundred at interest. Dick will have to borrow the amount to lend it to me. But no matter, he'll easily obtain it. Narky Fogg, while you're at Middleton, endeavour to ascertain whether anything has been arranged about the marriage of a certain young lady to a certain young gentleman. I'm curious to know the exact state of affairs in that quarter. I will arrive at the throat with possible squire," replied Fogg. But I should scarcely think Sir Richard would assent to his son's union with the daughter of a notorious witch. Sir Richard's son is scarcely likely to ask Sir Richard's consent, said Nicholas. And as to Mistress Nutter, though every charges have been brought against her, nothing's been proved, for you know she escaped, or rather was rescued, on her way to Lancaster Castle. I'm fully aware of its squire," replied Fogg. And I'm more than suspect a worthy friend of mine, and in her deliverance, and could tell where to find her if needful. But that's neither here nor there. The land is quite innocent, I dare say. Indeed, I'm quite sure of it, since you espouse her cause so warmly. But the world is malicious, and strange things are reported of her. Hey, not the world, Fogg! rejoined Nicholas. The world speaks well of no man, be his desserts what they may. The world says that I waste my estate in wine, women, and horse flesh, that I spend time in pleasures which might be profitably employed, that I neglect my wife, forget my religious observances. I'm on horseback when I should be a foot, at the alehouse when I should be at home, and at a marriage when I should be a funeral, shooting when I should be keeping me books. In short, he has not a good word to say for me. And as for they, Fogg, it says thou art an idle, good for nothing fellow. Or if thou art good for all, it's only for something that leads to evil. He says thou drinkest prodigiously, liest confoundedly, and swearest most profanely, that thou art ever more ready to go to the alehouse and church, and that none of the girls can scape thee. The slanderer's even goes so fast to assert that thou would not hesitate to say, stand and deliver, to a true man on the highway. That's what the world says of thee. Oh, but hang it, never look chappful, and, man, let us go to the stables, and then we will into breakfast, after which we will proceed to the Ribble, and spear the old otter. A fine old menorial residence was down'em, and beautifully situated, as has been shown, on a woody eminence to the north of Pendle Hill. It was of great antiquity, and first came into the possession of the Ascherton family in 1558. Considerable additions had been made to it by its present owner, Nicholas, and the outlay necessarily required, combined with his lavish expenditure, had contributed to embarrass him. The stables were large and full of horses, the kennels on the same scale, and equally well supplied with hounds, and there was a princely retinue of servants in the yard, grooms, keepers, falconers, huntsmen, and their assistants, to say nothing of their fellows within doors. In short, if it had been your fortune to accompany the squire and his friend round the premises, if you had walked through the stables and counted the horses, if you had viewed the kennels and examined the various hounds, the great Lancashire dogs, tall, shaggy, and heavy, a race now extinct, the Worcestershire hounds, then also in much repute, the grey hounds, the Harriers, the Beagles, the Lurchers, and lastly, the Thurminers, or as we should call them, the Terriers, if you had seen all these, you would not have wondered that money was scarce with him. Still further, would your surprise at such a consequence have diminished if you had gone on to the falconry, and seen on the perches the gosshawk and her tercel, the sparrowhawk and her musket, under the care of the ostriger, and further on the falcon gentle, the gir falcon, the lana, the merlin, and the hobby, all of which were attended to by a head falconer. It would have done you good to hear Nicholas inquiring from his men, if they had set out their birds this morning, and weathered them, if they had mummy-powered in readiness, then esteemed a sovereign remedy. If the furs, hoods, jesses, buits, and all the other needful furniture were in good order, and if the meat were sweet and wholesome, you might next have followed him to the pens where the fighting cocks were kept, and where you would have found another source of expense in the cockmaster, Tom Shaw, a knave who not only got high wages from his master, but understood so well the dieting of his birds that he could make them win or lose a battle as he thought proper. Here again Nicholas had much to say, and was in raptures with one cock, which he told Fogg he would back to any amount, utterly unconscious of a significant look that passed between his friend and the cockmaster. Look at him, cried the squire, how proud and erect he stands! His head is as small as that of a sparrow-hawk, his eye large and quick, his body thick, his legs strong in the beam, and his spurs long, rough and sharp. That's the bird for me. I will take him over to the cockpit at Prescott next week, and match him against any bird Sir John Dolbert or my cousin Braddell can bring. And you'll win, squire, replied the cockmaster. I've been fading in those five weeks, and he be in rare condition then, and winner failure. You may lay what you lack upon him, he added, with a slight wink at Fogg. You may win the thirty pounds you want, observed the latter in a low tone to the squire. Oh, may I lose it, replied Nicholas. I shall not risk so much, unless I get the three hundred from Dick Asherton. I've been unlucky a late. You beat me constantly at tables now, Fogg, and when the first do you, this was not want to be the case. They never make excuses, man, you cannot help it. Let's end the breakfast. With this he proceeded towards the house, followed by Fogg and a couple of large Lancashire hounds, and entering at the back of the premises made his way through the scullery into the kitchen. Here there were plentiful evidences of the hospitality, not to say profusion, raining throughout the mansion. An open door showed a larder stocked with all kinds of provisions, and before the fire joints of meat and poultry were roasting, pies were baking in the oven, and over the flames in the chimney was suspended a black pot, large enough for which is cauldron. The cook was busy in preparing for the gridiron some freshly caught trout intended for the squire's own breakfast, and the kitchen maid was toasting oak cakes, of which there was a large supply in the bread-flake, depending from the ceiling. Casting a look round and exchanging a few words with the cook, Nicholas moved on, still followed by Fogg and the hounds, and tracking along the stone passage, entered the great hall. Here the same disorder and irregularity prevailed as in his own character and conduct. All was litter and confusion. Around the walls were hung breast-plates and buff coats, morions, shields, and two-handed swords, but they were half-hidden by fishing-nets, fouling-nets, dog-scholars, saddles and bridles, housing, crossbows, longbows, quivers, baldrics, horns, spears, guns, and every other implement then used in the sports of the river or the field. The floor was in an equal state of disorder. The rushes were filled with half-nord bones, brought thither by the hounds, and in one corner on a mat was a favorite spaniel and her welps. The squire, however, was happily insensible to the condition of the chamber, and looked around it with an air of satisfaction, as if he thought it the perfection of comfort. A table was spread for breakfast, near a window looking out upon the lawn, and two covers only were laid, for Mistress Nicholas Ashton did not make her appearance at this early hour, and now was exhibited one of those strange contradictions of which the squire's character was composed. Kneeling down by the side of the table, and without noticing the mocking expression of Fogg's countenance as he followed his example, Nicholas prayed, loudly and fervently, for upwards of ten minutes, after which he arose and gave a shout which proved that his lungs were unimpaired, and not only roused the whole house, but set all the dogs barking. Presently a couple of serving men answered this lusty summons, and the table was covered with good and substantial dishes, which he and his companion attacked with a vigor such as only the most valiant trencherman can display. Already has it been remarked that a breakfast at the period in question resembled a modern dinner, and better proof could not have been afforded of the correctness of the description than the meal under discussion, which comprised fish, flesh, and fowl, boiled, broiled, and roast together with strong ale and sack. After an hour thus agreeably employed, and while they were still seated, though breakfast had pretty nearly come to an end, a serving man entered, announcing Master Richard Sherbourne of Dunmo. The squire instantly sprang to his feet, and hastened to welcome his brother-in-law. Now, good day to your dick! he cried, shaking him heartily by the hand. But what happy Charles brings you here so early? But first sit down and eat, eat and talk afterwards. Here, Roger, Harry, bring another platter of napkin, and let us have more broiled trout and a cold capon, a pasty, or whatever you can find in the larder. Try some of this gammon meanwhile, dick. It'll help down a can of ale, and now what brings thee here, the lad? Bless it in business, no doubt. I may speak before fog. I have no secrets from him. He is my second self. I have no secrets to divulge, Nicholas, replied Sherbourne, and I will tell you at once what I am come about. Have you heard that the king is about to visit Houghton Tower in August? No, this is noose to me, replied Nicholas. Does your business relate to his visit? He does, replied Sherbourne. Last night a messenger came to me from Sir Richard Houghton, in treating me to move you to do him the favour and courtesy to attend him at the king's coming, and warn his livery. Ah, warn his livery, exclaimed Nicholas indignantly. Steth, what did you take me for, cousin dick? For a right good fellow, who I am sure will comply with his friend's request, especially when he finds there's no sort of degradation in it, replied Sherbourne, why I shall wear Sir Richard's cloth, and so will several others about friends. There will be rare doings at Houghton, maskings, mummings, and all sorts of rebels, besides hunting, shooting, racing, resting, and the devil knows what. You may feast and carouse to your heart's content. The dukes of Buckingham and Richmond will be there, and the earls of Nottingham and Pembroke and Sir Gilbert Houghton, the king's great favourite, who married the duchies of Buckingham's sister. Besides these you'll have all the beauty of Lancashire, and would not miss the sight for thirty pounds. Thirty pounds, echoed Nicholas, as if struck with a sudden thought. Do thinks that Thomas Houghton would lend me that, so if I consent to wear his cloth and attend him? I have no doubt of it, replied Sherbourne, and if he won't, I will. Then I'll put my bride in my pocket and go, said Nicholas, and now they dispatch your breakfast as quickly as you can, and then I'll take it to the rebel and show you some sport with an otter. Sherbourne was not long in concluding his repast, and having received an otter spear from the squire, who had already provided himself and fog with like-weapons, all three adjourned to the kennels, where they found the old huntsman, Charlie Crouch, awaiting them, attended by four stout violets, armed with forked staves, meant for the double purpose of beating the river's banks, and striking the poor beast they were about to hunt, and each man having a couple of hounds, well entered for the chase in leash. Old Crouch was a thin, grey-bearded fellow, but possessed of a tough muscular frame, which served him quite as well in the long run as the younger and apparently more vigorous limbs of his assistants. His cheek was hail, and his eyes still bright and quick, and a certain fierceness was imparted to his countenance by a large aquiline nose. He was attired in a greasy leather jerkin, tight hose of the same material, and had a bugle suspended from his neck, and a sharp hunting-knife thrust into his girdle. In his hand he bore a spear like his master, and was followed by a grey old lurcher, who, though wanting an ear and an eye, and disfigured by sundry scars on throat and back, was hardy, untiring, and sagacious. This ancient dog was called Grip, from his tenacity in holding anything he set his teeth upon, and he and Crouch were inseparable. Great was the clamour occasioned by the squire's appearance in the yard. The coupled hounds gave tongue at once, and sang out most melodiously, and all the other dogs within the kennels, or roaming at will about the yard, joined the concert. After much swearing, cracking of whips and yelping consequent upon the cracking, silence was in some degree restored, and a consultation was then held between Nicholas and Crouch as to where their steps should first be bent. The old huntsman was for drawing the river near a place called Bean Hill Wood, as the trees there about, growing close to the water's edge, it was pretty certain that the Otto would have her couch amid the roots of some of them. This was objected to by one of the violets, who declared that the beast lodged in a hollow tree, standing on a bank nearly a mile higher up the stream, and close by the point of junction between Swanside Beck and the Ribble. He was certain of the fact, he avouched, because he had noticed her marks on the moist grass near the tree. The gulls there to fish, moan, cried Crouch, but said, nature of the weary balm, it defeated at a distance for a lodging, but I'm sure wish and later honor among the roots of them big trees, or hanging the river near Bean Hill Wood, and if the squire take my bus, then go there first. I put myself entirely under your guidance, Crouch, said Nicholas, and I'll be all right, sir, replied the huntsman. When beat the bonks well, and two of those chaps shall go up the stream, and two down, one on one side, and one on the other, and in that manner can it escape us. The grit can swim and dive, as well as any otter eyes, all Englandshire, and they'll be after a little at the moment they take that water. Some forkers may be on scene squad, take hold on a cord by both ends, and drop it into the river, do it slowly along, so they can tell by the jerk when the otter touches it, but this is an uncertain method, not like Grypps' plan, but everwherever you'll see him swimming to the beast, you'll might be sure his name far ahead. Ah, brave dog, but confoundedly ugly, exclaimed the squire, regarding the old one-eared, one-eyed lurcher with mingled admiration and disgust. And now that's all arranged, let's be off. Accordingly they quitted the courtyard, and shaping their course in the direction indicated by the huntsman, entered the park and proceeded along a glade, checkered by the early sunbeams. Here, the noise they made in their progress, speedily disturbed a herd of deer browsing beneath the trees, and as the dappled foresters darted off to a thicker covet, great difficulty was experienced by the violets in restraining hounds, who struggled eagerly to follow them, and made the welkin resound with their baying. Yonder's a tall fella, cried Nicholas, pointing out a noble buck to crouch. I must kill him next week, for I want to send Orange of Ennison to Middleton, and another to Whaley Abbey for Sir Ralph. Becqueroe de M'squire, said Crouch, he'll get you good sport. Soon after this they attained an eminence, where a charming sweep of country opened upon them, including the finest part of Ribblesdale, with its richly wooded plains, and the swift and beautiful river from which it derived its name. The view was enchanting, and the squire and his companions paused for a moment to contemplate it, and then, stepping gleefully forward, made their way over the elastic turf towards a small, thicket skirting the park. All were in high spirits, for the freshness and beauty of the morning had not been without effect, and the squire's tongue kept pace with his legs as he strode briskly along, but as they entered the thicketing question, and caught sight of the river through the trees, the old huntsman enjoined silence, and he was obliged to put a check upon his locacity. When within a bow-shot from the water, the party came to a halt, and two of the men were directed by Crouch to cross the stream at different points, and then commenced beating the banks, while the other two were ordered to pursue a light course, but to keep on the near side of the river. The hounds were next uncoupled, and the men set off to execute the orders they had received, and soon afterwards the crashing of branches and the splashing of water, accompanied by the deep baying of the hounds, told they were at work. Meanwhile Nicholas and the others had not remained idle. As the violets struck off in different directions, they went straight on, and forcing their way through the brushwood, came to a high bank overlooking the rebel, on the top of which grew three or four large trees, whose roots laid bare on the further side by the swollen currents of winter, formed a convenient resting-place for the fish-loving creature they hoped to surprise. Receiving a hint from Crouch to make for the central tree, Nicholas grasped his spear and sprang forward, but quick as he was he was too late, though he saw enough to convince him that the crafty old huntsman had been correct in his judgment, for a dark, slimy object dropped throughout the roots of the tree beneath him, and glided into the water as swiftly and as noiselessly as if its skin had been oiled. A few bubbles rose to the surface of the water, but these were all the indications marking the course of the wondrous diver. But otherwise sharper than those of Nicholas were on the watch, and the old huntsman shouted out, There goes Grip after that lad after that! The words were scarcely uttered when the dog sprang from the top of the bank and sank under the water. For some seconds no trace could be observed of either animal, and then the shaggy nose of the lurcher was seen nearly fifty yards higher up the river, and after sniffing around for a moment and fixing his single eye on his master, who was standing on the bank and encouraging him with his voice and gesture, he dived again. Station yourselves on the bank, fifty baths it's a part, cried Crouch. No, no, no, you'll be too late, and stark as quick as late if you have a chance. Say we are squire, he added to Nicholas, You cannot be better-placed. All was now animation and excitement, perceiving from the noise that the otter had been found, the four violets hastened towards the scene of action, and by their shouts and the clatter of their staves contributed greatly to its spirit. Two were on one side of the stream and two on the other, and up to this moment the hounds were similarly separated, but now most of them had taken to the water, some swimming about, others standing up to the middle in the shallower part of the current, watching with keen gaze for the appearance of their anticipated victim. Having descended the bank, Nicholas had so placed himself among the twisted roots of the tree, that if the otter, alarmed by the presence of so many foes, and unable to escape either up or down the river, should return to her couch, he made certain of striking her. At first there seemed little chance of such and occurrence, for Fogg, who had gone a hundred yards higher up, suddenly dashed into the stream, and plunging his spear into the mud, cried out that he had hit the beast. But the next moment, when he drew the weapon forth, and exhibited a large rat, which he had turns fixed, his mistake excited much merriment. Old Crouch, meantime, did not suffer his attention to be drawn from his dog. Every now and then he saw him come to the surface to breathe, but as he kept within a short distance, though rising at different points, the old huntsman felt certain the otter had not got away, and having the utmost reliance upon grips, perseverance, and sagacity, he felt confident he would bring the quarry to him if the thing were possible. The violets kept up an incessant clatter, beating the water with their staves, and casting large stones into it, while the hounds bathed furiously, so that the poor fugitive was turned on whichever side she attempted a retreat. While this was going on, Nicholas was cautioned by the huntsman to look out, and scarcely had the admonition reached him, then the sleek, shining body of the otter emerged from the water, and wreathed itself among the roots. The squire instantly dealt a blow, which he expected to prove fatal, but his mortification was excessive when he found he had driven his spearhead so deeply into the tree that he could scarcely disengage it, while an almost noiseless plunge told that his prey had escaped. Almost at the same moment that the poor hunted beast had sought its old lodging, the untiring lurcher had appeared at the edge of the bank, and as the former again went down, he dived likewise. Secretly laughing at the squire's failure, the old huntsman prepared to take advantage of a similar opportunity, if it should present itself, and with this view Esconced himself behind a Pollard Willow, which stood close beside the stream, whence he could watch closely all that passed, without being exposed to view. The prudence of the step was soon manifest. After the lapse of a few seconds, during which neither dog nor otter had risen to breathe, a slight, very slight undulation was perceptible on the surface of the water. Crouch's grasp tightened upon his staff. He waited another moment, then dashed forward, struck down his spear, and raised it aloft, with the poor otter transfixed and writhing upon its point. Loudly and exultingly did the old man shout at his triumph, and loudly were his vociferations answered by the others. All flew to the spot where he was standing, and the hounds, gathering around him, yelled furiously at the otter, and showed every disposition to tear her in pieces if they could get at her. Kicking the noisiest and fiercest of them out of the way, Crouch approached the river's bank, and lowered the spearhead till it came within reach of his favourite grip, who had not yet come out of the water, but stood within his depth, with his one red eye fixed on the enemy he had so hotly pursued, and fully expecting his reward. It now came. His sharp teeth instantly met in the otter's throat, and when Crouch swung them both in the air he still maintained his hold, showing how well he deserved his name, nor could he be disengaged until long after the sufferings of the tortured animal had ceased. To say that Nicholas was neither shagrined at his ill success, nor jealous of the old huntsman's superior skill, there would be to affirm an untruth. But he put the best face he could upon the matter, and praised grip very highly, alleging that the whole merit of the hunt rested with him. Old Crouch let him go and when he had done, quietly observed that the otter they had destroyed was not the one they had come in search of, as they had seen nothing of her litter, and that most likely the beast that had done so much mischief had her lodging in the hollow tree near the swan-side beck, as described by the violet, and he wanted to know whether the squire would like to go and hunt her. Nicholas replied that he was quite willing to do so, and hoped he should have better luck on the second occasion, and with this they set forward again, taking their way along the side of the stream, beating the banks as they went, but without rousing anything beyond an occasional water-rat, which was killed almost as soon as found by grip. Somehow or other, without anyone being aware what led to it, the conversation fell upon the two old witches, mother's dem dyke and chattocks, and the strange manner in which their career had terminated on the summit of Pendle Hill, if indeed it could be said to have terminated when their spirits were reported to haunt the spot, and might be seen it was asserted at midnight, flitting round the beacon, and shrieking dismally. The restless shades were pursued it was added by the figure of a monk in white, mouldering robes, supposed to be the ghost of Paslew. It was difficult to understand how these apparitions could be witnessed, since no one, even for a reward, could be prevailed upon to ascend Pendle Hill after nightfall, but the shepherds affirmed that they had seen them from below, and that was testimony sufficient to shake the most skeptical. One singular circumstance was mentioned, which must not be passed by without notice, and this was that when the cinders of the extinct beacon fire came to be examined, no remains whatever of the two hags could be discovered, though the ashes were carefully sifted, and it was quite certain that the flames had expired long before their bodies could be consumed. The explanation attempted for this marvel was that Satan had carried them off while yet living to finish their combustion in a still more fiery region. Mention of Mother Demdike naturally led to her grandson, Gem Device, who, having escaped in a remarkable manner on the night in question, not withstanding the human crime made after him, had not, as yet, been captured, though he had been occasionally seen at night, and under peculiar circumstances by various individuals, and amongst others by old Crouch, who, however, declared that he had been unable to lay hands upon him. Allusion was then made to Mistress Nutter, whereupon it was observed that the squire had changed the conversation quickly, while sundress sly winks and shrugs were exchanged among the violets of the kennel, seemingly to intimate that they knew more about the matter than they cared to admit. Nothing more, however, was elicited than that the escort conducting her to Lancaster Castle, together with the other witches, after their examination before the magistrates at Whaley and Commithal, had been attacked, while it was passing through a woody defile in Bowland Forest, by a party of men in the garb of foresters, and the lady set free, nor had she been heard of since. What made this rescue the more extraordinary was that none of the other witches were liberated at the same time, but some of them, who seemed disposed to take advantage of the favourable interposition and endeavoured to get away, were brought back by the foresters to the offices of justice, thus clearly proving that the attempt was solely made on Mistress Nutter's account, and must have been undertaken by her friends. Nothing it was asserted could equal the rage and mortification of Roger Knowle and Potts on learning that their chief prey had thus escaped them, and by their directions, for more than a week, the strictest search was made for the fugitives throughout the neighbourhood, but without effect. No clue could be discovered to her retreat. Suspicion naturally fell upon the two Ashtons, Nicholas and Richard, and Roger Knowle roundly taxed them with contriving and executing the Enterprise in person, while Potts told them they were guilty of misprison of felony and threatening them with imprisonment for life, forfeiture of goods and reverents for the offence. But as the charge could not be proved against them, notwithstanding all the efforts of the magistrate and attorney, it fell to the ground, and Master Potts, full of chagrin at this unexpected and vexatious termination of the affair, returned to London, and settled himself in his chambers in Chansary Lane. His duties, however, as Clark of the Court, would necessarily call him to Lancaster in August, when the assizes commenced, and when he would assist in the trials of such as the witches, as were still endurance. From Mother Demdike it was natural that the conversation should turn to her weird retreat, Malkin Tower, and Richard Sherbourne expressed his surprise that the unhallowed structure should be suffered to remain standing after her removal. Nicola said he was equally anxious with his brother-in-law for its demolition, but it was not so easy to be accomplished as it might appear, for the deserted structure was in such ill repute with the common folk, as well as everyone else, that no one dared approach it, even in the daytime. A boggart, it was said, had taken possession of its vaults, and scared away all who ventured near it, sometimes showing himself in one frightful shape and sometimes in another, now as a monstrous goat, now as an equally monstrous cat, uttering fearful cries, glaring with fiery eyes from out the windows, or appearing in all his terror on the summit of the tower. Moreover, the haunted structure was frequently lighted up at dead of night. Strains of unearthly music were heard resounding from it, and wild figures were seen flitting past the windows, as if engaged in dancing and revelry, so that it appeared that no alteration for the better had taken place there, and that things were still quite as improperly conducted now, as they had been in the time of Mother Demdike, or in those of her predecessors he sold a heathen and blackburn the robber. The common opinion was that Satan, with all his imps, had taken up their abode in the tower, and as they liked their quarters, they'd led a jolly life there, dancing and drinking all night long, it would be useless at present to give them notice to quit, still less to attempt to pull down the house about their ears. Richard Sherbourne heard this wondrous relation in silence, but with a look of incredulity, and when it was done he winked slighly at his brother-in-law. A strange expression, half comical, half suspicious, might also have been observed on Fogg's countenance, and he narrowly watched the squire as the latter spoke. But with the disappearance of the malignant old hags, who had so long infested the neighbourhood, had all the mischief and calamity ceased? Or were the people as much affected as here too, for? Were there, in short, so many cases of witchcraft real or supposed? This was the question, next addressed by Sherbourne to Nicholas. The squire answered decidedly that there was not. Since the burning of the two old bell-dames, and the imprisonment of the others, the whole district of Pendle had improved. All those who had been smitten with strange illnesses had recovered, and the inhabitants of the little village of Sabden, who had experienced the fullest effects of their malignity, were entirely free from sickness. And not only had they and their families suddenly regained health and strength, but all belonging to them had undergone a similar beneficial change. The kind that had lost their milk now yielded it abundantly. The lame horse halted no longer. The moraine ceased among the sheep. The pigs that had grown lean amidst abundance fattened rapidly. And though the farrows that had perished during the evil ascendancy of the witches could not be brought back again, their place promised speedily to be supplied by others. The corn blighted earlier in the year had sprung forth anew, and the trees nipped in the bud were laden with fruit. In short, all was as fair and as flourishing as it had recently been the reverse. Among others, John Law, the peddler, who had been deprived of the use of his limbs by the damnable arts of Mother Demdike, had marvelously recovered on the very night of her destruction, and was now as strong and as active as ever. Such happy results having followed the removal of the witches, it is to be hoped, Sherbourne said, that the redance would be complete, and that none of the obnoxious brood would be left to inflict future miseries upon their fellows. This could not be the case so long as James' device was allowed to go at large, nor while his mother Elizabeth's device, a notorious witch, was suffered to escape with impunity. There was also Janet, Elizabeth's daughter, a mischievous and ill-favoured little creature who inherited all the ill qualities of her parents. These were spawn of the old snake, and until they were entirely exterminated there could be no security against the recurrence of the evil. Again there was Nancy Redfern, old Chatex's granddaughter, a cunning woman enough, but a reputed witch and an undoubted fabricator of clay images. She was still at liberty, though she ought to be with the rest in the dungeons of Lancaster Castle. It was useless to allege that with the destruction of the old hags all danger had ceased. Common prudence would keep the others quiet now, but the moment the storm had passed over they would resume their atrocious practices, and all would be as bad as ever. No, no, the tree must be utterly uprooted, or it would inevitably burst forth anew. With these opinions Nicholas generally concurred, but he expressed some sympathy for Nancy Redfern, whom he thought far too good looking to be as wicked and malicious as represented. But however that might be, and however much he might desire to get rid of the family of the devices, he feared such a step might be attended with danger to Alison, and that she might in some way be implicated with them. This last remark he addressed in an undertone to his brother-in-law. Sherbourne did not at first feel any apprehension on that score, but on reflection he admitted that Nicholas was perhaps right. And though Alison was now the recognised daughter of Mistress Nutter, yet her long and intimate connection with the device family might operate to her prejudice, while her near relationship to an avowed witch would not tend to remove the unfavorable impression. Sherbourne then went on to speak in the most rapturous forms of the beauty and goodness of the young girl, who formed the subject of their conversation, and declared he was not in the least surprised that Richard Asherton was so much in love with her. And yet, he added, a most extraordinary change had taken place in her since the dreadful night on Pendle Hill, when her mother's guilt had been proclaimed, and when her arrest had taken place as an offender of the darkest night. Alison, he said, had lost none of her beauty, but her light and joyous expression of countenance had been supplanted by look of profound sadness, which nothing could remove. Gentle and meek in her deportment, she seemed to look upon herself as under a ban, and as if she were unfit to associate with the rest of the world. In vain Richard Asherton and his sister endeavoured to remove this impression by the tenderous assiduities. In vain they sought to induce her to enter into amusements, consistent with her years. She declined all society but their own, and passed the greater part of her time in prayer. Sherbourne had seen her so engaged, and the expression of her countenance, he declared, was so raffic. On the extreme verge of a high bank situated at the point of junction between Swansea Beck and the Ribble, stood an old decayed oak, little of the once mighty tree beyond the gnarled trunk was left, and this was completely hollow, while there was a great rift near the bottom, through which a man might easily creep, and when once in, stand erect without inconvenience. Beneath the bank the river was deep and still, forming a pool where the largest and fattest fish were to be met with. In addition to this, the spot was extremely secluded, being rarely visited by the Angler on account of the thick cops by which it was surrounded, and which extended along the back, from the point of view of confluence between the lesser and the larger stream, to down a mill, nearly half a mile distant. The sides of the Ribble were here, as elsewhere, beautifully wooded, and as the clear stream winded along through banks of every diversity of shape and character, and covered by forest trees of every description, and of the most luxuriant growth the effect was enchanting. The more so, that the sun, having now risen high in the heavens, poured down a flood of summer heat and radiance, but rendered these cool shades inexpressibly delightful. Pleasant was it, as the huntsman leapt from stone to stone, to listen to the sound of the waters rushing past them. Pleasant, as they sprang upon some green home or fairy eyelet standing in the midst of the stream, and dividing its lucid waters, to suffer the eye to follow the course of the rapid current, and to see it here sparkling in the bright sunshine, there plunged in shade by the overhanging trees, now fringed with oseas and rushes, now embanked by the smoothest sword of emerald green, and on defended by steep rocks, sometimes bold and bare, but more frequently clothed with timber, and then sinking down by one of those sudden but exquisite transitions, which nature alone dares display from this savage and somber character into the softest and gentlest expression, everywhere varied, yet everywhere beautiful. Through such scenes of silver loveliness had the huntsman passed on their way to the hollow oak, and they had ample leisure to enjoy them, because the squire and his brother-in-law, being engaged in conversation, as before related, made frequent pauses, and during these the others halted likewise, and even the hounds, glad of a respite, stood still, or amused themselves by splashing them out amid the shallows, without any definite object, unless of cooling themselves. Then, as the leaders once more moved forward, arose the cheering shout, the loud deep bay, the clattering of staves, the crashing of branches, and all the other inspiriting noises accompanying the progress of the hunt. But for some minutes these had again ceased, and as Nicholas and Cherbourne lingered beneath the shade of a widespread beech-tree, growing on a sandy hillock near the stream, and seemed deeply interested in their talk, as well they might, for it related to Alison, the whole troupe, including Fogg, held respectfully aloof, and awaited their pleasure to go on. The signal to move was at length given by the squire, who saw they were now not more than a hundred yards from the bank on which stood the hollow tree they were anxious to reach. As the river here made a turn, and swept round the point in question, forming, owing to this detention, the deep pool previously mentioned, the bank almost facing them, and as nothing intervened, they could almost look into the rift near the base of the tree, forming, they supposed, the entrance to the otter's couch. But though this was easily distinguished, no traces of the predatory animal could be seen, and though many sharp eyes were fixed on the spot during the prolonged discourse of the two gentlemen, nothing had occurred to attract their attention, and to prove that the object of their quest was really there. After some little consultation between the squire and crouch, it was agreed that the former should alone force his way to the tree, while the others were to station themselves with the hounds at various points of the stream above and below the bank, so that if the otter and her litter escaped their first assailant, they should infallibly perish by the hands of some of the others. This being agreed upon, the plan was instantly put into execution. Two of the violets remaining where they were, two going higher up, while Sherbourne and Fogg stationed themselves on great stones in the middle of the stream, whence they could command all around them, and Crouch, wading on with grip, planted himself at the entrance of Swanside Beck into the Ribble. Meanwhile, the squire, having scaled the bank, entered the thick covet in circling it, and not without some damage to his face and hands from the numerous thorns and brambles going amongst it, forced his way upwards until he reached the bare space surrounding the hollow tree, and this attained his first business was to ascertain that all was in readiness below before commencing the attack. A glance showed him on one side old Crouch standing up to his middle in the Beck, grasping his long otter spear, and with grip beating the water in front of him in anxious expectation of employment, and in front Fogg, Sherbourne and two of the violets with their hounds so dispersed that they could immediately advance upon the otter if it plunged into the river, while its passage up or down would be stopped by their comrades. All this he discerned at a glance, and comprehending from a sign made him by the old huntsman that he should not delay, he advanced towards the tree, and was about to plunge his spear into the hull, hoping to transfix one at least of its occupants, when he was startled by hearing a deep voice apparently issue from the hollows of the timber, beating him, Beware! Nicholas recoiled aghast, for he thought it might be hobhurst or the demon of the wood who thus bespoke him. What a cursing thing addresses me, he said, standing on his guard. What is it? Speak! Get ince Nicholas Asherton! replied the voice, and meddled not with them as meddles not with they. Aha! exclaimed the squire, recovering courage, for he thought this did not sound like the language of a demon. Ah, no, now, my, why should I go hence, and at whose bidding? I've no question, mon, but go! replied the voice, or it shouldn't be the worst for the, I am the boggest of the cloth, and if thou bringst me out, I'm dirty in pieces with my claws, and cast thee into dribble, so that thine horn-hounds shall ate they up. Yeah, slayest thou so, master Boggert? cried Nicholas. For a spirit thou uses the vernacular of the county fairly enough, but before trying whether thy hide be proof against mortal weapons, I command thee to come forth, and declare thyself, that I may judge what manner of thing thou art. God's best let me be, I'll tell thee! replied the Boggert gruffly. Ah, ha, me thinks I know those accents, he exclaimed the squire. They marvelously resembled the voice of an offender who was too long-affaired in justice, and whom I have now fairly entrapped. Gem device, thou art known, lad, and if thou dost not surrender at discretion, I will strike my spear through this rotten tree, and spit thee as I would the beast that came in quest of. Which it would more easily than may, retorted Gem, and suddenly springing from the hole at the foot of the tree, he passed between the squire's legs with great promptitude, and, flinging him face foremost on the ground, crawled to the edge of the bank, and thence dropped into the deep pool below. The plunge roused all the spectators, who, though they had heard what had passed, and seen the squire upset in the manner described, they had been so much astounded that they could render no assistance. But they now, one and all, bestirred themselves actively to seize the diver when he should rise to the surface. But though every eye was on the lookout, and every arm raised, though the hounds were as eager as their masters, and, yelling fiercely, swam round the pool, ready to pounce upon the swimmer as upon a duck, all were disappointed. For even after a longer interval than their patience could brook, he did not appear. By this time Nicholas had regained his legs, and infuriated by his disconferger, approached the edge of the bank, and, peering down below, hoped to detect the fugitive immediately beneath him, resolved to show him no mercy when he caught him. But he was equally at fault with the others, and after more than five minutes spent in ineffectual search, he ordered crouch to send grip into the pool. The old keeper replied that the dog was not used to this kind of chase, and might not display his usual skin in it. But as the squire would take no nay, he was obliged to consent, and the otterhounds were called off lest they should puzzle him. Twice did the shrewd lurcher swim round the pool, sniffing the air, after which he approached the shore, and sent it close to the bank. But still it was evident that he could detect nothing, and Nicholas began to despair, when the dog suddenly dived. Expectation was then raised to the utmost, and all were on the watch again. Nicholas, leaning over the edge of the bank, with his spear in his hand, prepared to strike. But the dog was so long in reappearing, that all had given him up for lost, and his master was giving utterance to ejaculations of grief and rage, and vowing vengeance against the warlock, when grip's grizzly head was once more seen above the surface of the water, and this time he had a piece of blue surge in his jaws, proving that he had hold of the raiment of the fugitive, and therefore the latter could not be far off, but had most probably got into some hole beneath the bank. No sooner was this notion suggested than it was acted on by the old Huntsman and Fogg, and wading forward they pricked the bank with their spears at various points below the level of the water. All at once, Fogg fell forward. His spear had entered a hole, and had penetrated so deeply that he had lost his balance. But though saussed over head and ears, he had made a successful hit, for the next moment gem device appeared above the water, and there he could dive again, his throat was seized by grip, and while struggling to free himself from the fangs of the tenacious animal, he was laid hold of by crouch, and the violets rushing forward to the latter's assistance the Ruffian was captured. Some difficulty was experienced in rescuing the captive from the jaws of the hounds, who infuriated by his struggles, and perhaps mistaking him for some strange beast of chase, made their sharp teeth meet in various parts of his person, rending his garments from his limbs, and would no doubt have rent the flesh also if they had been permitted. At length, after much fighting and struggling, mingled with yells and vociferations, gem was born ashore, and flung on the ground, where he presented a wretched spectacle, bleeding, half-drowned, and covered with slime acquired during his occupation of the hole in the bank. But though unable to offer further resistance, his spirit was not quelled, and his eye glared terribly at his captors. Fearing they might have further trouble with him when he recovered from his present exhausted condition, crouch had his hands bound tightly together with one of the dog-leashes, and then would feign have questioned him as to how he managed to breathe in a hole below the level of the water, but gem refused to satisfy his curiosity, and returned only a sullen rejoinder to any questions addressed to him, until the squire, who had crossed the river at some stepping-stones lower down, came up, and the ruffian then inquired in a half menacing tone what he meant to do with him. What do I mean to do with you? cried Nicholas. I'll tell you, lad, I shall send you at once to Whaley to be examined with all the magistrates, and as the proofs are pretty clear against you, you'll be forward without any material delay to Lancaster Castle. And oh, will I rescue me, by the way, as you have done a certain notorious witch and murderous? replied gem fiercely. Take heed what you have done, squire. If I speak at all, I shall speak out, and to some purpose I'd warrant you. If I go to Lancaster Castle, I want to go alone. Many of your friends shall go with me. Curse villain, I guess, thy meaning, replied Nicholas, but thy vindictive purposes will be frustrated. No credence will be attached to thy false charges, while as to the lady thou aimest at, she is luckily beyond reach of thy malice. Do not be too sure of that, squire, replied gem. I can't put the officers of justice as surely on her track, as old crouch could set their own on the notter. Lay her a-cant on it, and win a die on avenged. He did not, interposed Sherbourne, seeing that the squire was shaken by his threat, and taking him apart. It will not do to let such a villain escape. He can do your own injury, and has to be threatened after. If you know where she is, it will be easy to give her a hint to get out of the way. I don't know that, replied Nicholas, thoughtfully. If I might be so bold as to offer my a die, squire, said old crouch, advancing towards his master, I'd take every stone round the fellow's throttle, and chuck him in bowl, and he'll tell no tales for all his bragging. That would silence him, effectively, no doubt, crouch. Replied Nicholas, laughing. But a dog's death is too good for him. Besides, I'm pretty sure his destiny's not drowning. No. No, at all risk, he shall go to Whaley. Hark he fog, he added, beckoning that worthy to him. I commit the conduct and custody of the prisoner to you. Clap him on a horse, get on another yourself, take these four violets with you, and deliver him into the hands of Sir Ralph Asherton. They will relieve you of all further trouble and responsibility. But you may add this to the baronet from me. He continued in an undertone. I'd recommend him to place under immediate arrest Elizabeth device, the prisoner's mother, and her daughter Janet. You understand, Fogg? Eh? Perfectly, returned the other, with a somewhat singular look. In your instruction shall be fulfilled to the letter. Have you anything more to commit, Tommy? Only this, said Nicholas, you may tell Sir Ralph that I propose to sleep at Dabby tonight. I shall ride over to Middleton in the course of the day to confer with Dick Asherton on what has just occurred and get the money from him, the three hundred pounds, you understand? When my errand is done, I'll turn bridle towards Whaley. I'll return by Toddmudden and through the Gorge Cleavager. You may as well tarry for me at Dabby, for Sir Ralph will be glad to thou company, and we can return together to Dan and to Mora. As the squire thus spoke, he noticed a singular sparkle in Fogg's ill-set eyes, but he thought nothing of it at the time, though it subsequently occurred to his recollection. Meanwhile the prisoner, finding no grace likely to be shown him, shouted out to the squire that if he were set free he would make certain important disclosures to him respecting Fogg, who was not what he represented himself. But Nicholas treated the offer with disdain, and the individual mainly interested in the matter, who appeared highly incensed by Jem's malignity, cut a short peg by way of a gag, and thrusting it into the Ruffian's mouth effectively checked any more revelations on his part. Fogg then ordered the violets to bring on the prisoner, but as Jem obstinately refused to move, they were under the necessity of taking him on their shoulders and transporting him in this manner to the stables, where he was placed on a horse as directed by the squire. End of Chapter 1, Book 3, Chapter 2 of The Lancashire Witches The Lancashire Witches, a romance of Pendle Forest by William Harrison Ainsworth Book 3, Out and Tower Chapter 2, The Penitent Retreat Nicholas and Sherbourne returned by a different road from that taken by the others, and loitered so much by the way that they did not arrive at the manor house until the prisoner and his escort had set out. Probably this was designed as Nicholas seemed relieved when he learnt they were gone. Having entered the house with his brother-in-law, and conducted him to an apartment opening out of the hall normally occupied by Mistress Asherton, and where in fact they found that amiable lady employed at her embroidery, he left Sherbourne with her, and making some excuse for his own hasty retreat, he took himself to another part of the house. Mounting the principal staircase, which was of dark oak with richly carved railing, he turned into a gallery communicating with the sleeping apartments, and after proceeding more than half-way down it, halted before a door, which he unlocked, and entered the spacious, but evidently disused chamber, hung round with faded tapestry, and containing a large, gloomy-looking bedstead. Securing the door carefully after him, Nicholas raised the hangings in one corner of the room, and pressing against a spring, a sliding panel flew open. A screen was placed within, so as to hide from view the inmates of the secret chamber, and Nicholas, having coughed slightly to announce his presence, and received an answer in a low, melancholy female voice, stepped through the aperture, and stood within a small closet. It was tenanted by a lady whose features and figure bore the strongest marks of affliction. Her person was so attenuated that she looked little more than a skeleton, her fingers were long and thin, her cheeks hollow and deathly pale, her eyes lustulous and deep sunken in their sockets, and her hair, once jetty as a raven's wing, prematurely blanched. Such was the profound gloom stamped upon her countenance, that it was impossible to look upon her without compassion, while, in spite of her woe-begone looks, there was a noble character about her that elevated the feeling into deep interest, blended with respect. She was kneeling beside a small desk, with an open Bible laid upon it, which she was intently studying when the squire appeared. Here is a terrible text for you, Nicholas! She said, regarding him mournfully, little do it, and judge of the effect on me! Thus it is written in Deuteronomy. There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useeth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch! A witch, Nicholas! Do you mock the word? And yet more particular is the next verse wherein it is said, or a charmer, or a consultant with a familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer, and then cometh the denunciation of divine anger against such offenders in these sorrowful words. For all that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord, and because of these abominations the Lord, the High God, doth drive them out from before thee. Again it is said in Leviticus that the Lord seteth his face against such to cut them off. And in Exodus the law is expressly laid down thus, how shall not suffer a witch to live? There is no escape for her, you see. By the divine command she must perish, and human justice must carry out the decree. Nicholas, I am one of the offenders thus denounced, thus condemned. I have practised witchcraft, consulted with familiar spirits, and done other abominations in the sight of heaven, and I ought to pay the full penalty of my offences. Do not, I beseech you, madam, replied the squire, continue to take this view of your case. However you have sinned, you have made amends by the depth and sincerity of your repentance. Your days and nights, you allow yourself only such rest as nature forces on you, and take even that most unwillingly, our past in constant prayer. Your abstinence is severer than any anchoress ever practised, for I am sure for the last month you have not taken as much food altogether as I consume in a day. By not contempt with this, you perform acts of penance that afflict me beyond measure to think upon, and which I have striven in vain to induce you to forego. There will be no occasion to deliver yourself up to justice, madam, for if you go on thus and do not deal with yourself a little more mildly, your accounts with this world will be speedily settled. And I should rejoice to think so, Nicholas, replied Mr. Snutter. If I had any hope in the world to come, but alas I have none, I cannot, by any sense of penitence and contrition, expiate my offenses, my soul is darkened by despair, and I know I ought to give myself up, that heaven and man alike require my life, and I cannot reconcile myself to avoiding my just doom. It is the evil one who puts these thoughts into your head, replied Nicholas, and who fills your heart with promptings of despair, that he may again obtain the mastery over it, but take a calmer and more consolatory view of your condition. Human justice may require a public sacrifice as an example, but heaven will be satisfied with contrition in secret. I trust so, replied the lady, vainly striving to draw comfort from his words. Oh Nicholas, you do not know the temptations I am exposed to in this chamber, the difficulty I experience in keeping my thoughts fixed on the one object, the distractions I undergo, the mental obscurations, the paintings of spirits, the bodily prostrations, the terrors, the inconceivable terrors that assail me. Sometimes I wish my spirit would flee away and be at rest. Rest? There is none for me, none in the grave, none beyond the grave, and therefore I am afraid of death and still more of the judgment after death. Man might inflict all the tortures he could devise upon this poor frame, I would bear them all with patience, with delight if I thought they would purchase me immunity hereafter, but with the dread conviction, the almost certainty that it will be otherwise, I can only look to the final consummation with despair. Again I tell you these suggestions are evil, said Nicholas, the son of God who sacrificed himself for man, and by whose atonement all mankind hoped for salvation, has assured us that the greatest sinner who repent shall be forgiven, and indeed is more acceptable in the eyes of heaven than him who has never heard. Far be it from me to attempt to exculpate you in your own eyes, or to extenuate your form of criminality, you have said deeply so deeply that you may well shrink a gas from the contemplation of your past life, may well recoil in abhorrence from yourself, and may fitly devote yourself to constant bread and acts of penitent. But having cast off your iniquity and sincerely repented, I bid you hope, I bid you place a confident reliance in the clemency of an all-merciful power. You give me much comfort, Nicholas, said the lady, and if tears of blood can wash away my sin they shall be shed, but much as you know of my wickedness even you cannot conceive its extent, then my madness thought it was nothing else. I cast off all hopes of heaven, renounced my redeemer, was baptized by the demon, and entered into a compact by witcher. I shuddered to speak it, my soul was surrendered to him. You placed yourself in fearful jeopardy, no doubt, joined Nicholas, but you have broken the contract in time, and an all-righteous judge will not permit the penalty of the bond to be exacted. Seeing your penitence, Satan has relinquished all claim to your soul. I do not think it, replied the lady. He will contest the point to the last, and it is only at the last that it will be decided. As she spoke, a sound like mocking laughter reached the ears of Nicholas. Did you hear that? demanded Mistress Nutter. In accents of wildest terror he is ever on the watch. I knew it, I knew it. Clasping her hands together and fixing her looks on high, she then addressed the most fervent supplications to heaven for deliverance from evil, that ere long her troubled countenance began to resume its former serenity, proving that the surest balm for her mind diseased is prayer. Her example had been followed by Nicholas, who greatly alarmed had dropped upon his knees likewise, and now rose with somewhat more composure in his demeanour and aspect. Ah, I am sorry I do not bring you good news, madame, he said, but Jem device has been arrested this morning, and as the fellow is greatly exasperated against me, he threatens to betray your retreat to the officers. No, he is probably unacquainted with it, notwithstanding his bursting. Still he may cause search to be made, and therefore I think you would better be removed to some other hiding-place. Deliver me up without more ado, I pray you, Nicholas, said the lady. You know my resolution on that point, madame. He replied, and therefore it is idle to attempt to shake it. For your daughter's sake, if not for your own, I will save you in spite of yourself. You would not fix a brand wherever on Allison's name? You would not destroy her? I would not, replied the wretched lady, but have you heard from her? Have you seen her? Tell me, is she well and happy? She is well and would be happy, were it not for her anxiety about you? replied Nicholas evasively. But for her sake, mad, your own, I must urge you to seek some other place of refuge tonight, for if you are discovered here, you will bring ruin on us all. I will no longer debate the point, replied Mistress Nutter. Where shall I go? There is one place, so absolute security, but I do not like to mention it, replied Nicholas. Yet still, as it will only be necessary to remain for a day or two, till the search is over, when you can return here, it cannot much matter. Where is it? asked Mistress Nutter. Malkin Tower answered the squire with some hesitation. I will never go to that accursed place, cried the lady. Send me hence when you will, now or at midnight, and let me seek shelter on the bleak fowls or on the desolate moors, but bid me not go there. And yet it is the best and safest place for you. Return, Nicholas, somewhat testily, and for this reason, that being repoted to be haunted, no one will venture to molest you. As to Mother Demdack, I suppose you are not afraid of her ghost, and if the evil beings you apprehend were able or inclined to do you mischiefs, they would not wait till you got there to execute their purpose. True, said Mistress Nutter, I was wrong to hesitate, I will go. You'll be as safe there as here. I am safer, rejoined Nicholas, or I would not urge the retreat upon you. I am about to ride over to Middleton this morning to see your daughter and Richard Asherton, and shall sleep at Whaley, so I shall not be able to company you to the tower tonight. But all crouch the huntsman shall be in waiting for you as soon as it grows dusk, in the summerhouse, with which, as you know, the secret staircase connect with this room communicates, and he shall have a horse in readiness to take you, together with such matters as you may require, to the place of refuge. Heaven guard you, madam. Amen, responded the lady, and now farewell, said Nicholas. I shall hope to see you back here many days be gone, when your quietude will not again be disturbed. So saying, he stepped back, and passing through the panel, closed it after him. End of Chapter 2 Book 3 Chapter 3 Of The Lancashire Witches This Librabox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Andy Minter The Lancashire Witches A Romance of Pendle Forest by William Harrison Ainsworth Book 3 Houghton Tower Chapter 3 Middleton Hall Middleton Hall, the residence of Richard Asherton, was a large quadrangular structure, built entirely of timber, and painted externally in black and white checker work, fanciful and varied in design, in the style peculiar to the better class of Tudor houses in South Lancashire and Cheshire. Surrounded by a deep moat, supplied by a neighbouring stream, and crossed by four drawbridges, each faced by a gateway, this vast pile of building was divided into two spacious courts, one of which contained the stables, barns, and offices, while the other was reserved for the family and the guests, by whom the hospitable mansion was almost constantly crowded. In the last mentioned part of the house was a great gallery, with deeply-embed windows, and filled with painted glass, a floor of polished oak, walls of the same dark, lustrous material, hung with portraits of stiff beauties, some in rough and farthingale, and some in a costume of an earlier period. Among whom was Margaret Barton, who brought the manor of Middleton into the family. Frowning warriors, beginning with Sir Ralph Ashton, Knight-Marshall of England in the reign of Edward IV, and so named the Black of Ashton Underline, the founder of the house, and husband of Margaret Barton, before mentioned, an ending with Sir Richard Ashton, grandfather of the present owner of the mansion, and one of the heroes of Flodden. Graved lawyers, or graver divines, a likeness running through all, and showing they belonged to one line. A huge carved mantelpiece, massive tables of walnut or oak and black, and shining as ebony, set round with high-backed chairs. Here also above stairs there were long corridors, looking out through lattices upon the court, and communicating with the almost countless dormitories, while on the floor beneath, corresponding passages led to all the principal chambers, and terminated in the Grand Entrance Hall, the roof of which, being open and intersected by enormous rafters and crooks of oak, like the ribs of some tall amulet, was thought from this circumstance, as well of its form, to resemble a ship turned upside down. The lower beams were elaborately carved, and ornamented with gilded bosses and sculptured images. Sustaining shields emblazoned with the armorial bearings of the Ashtons. As many as three hundred match-locks, in good and serviceable condition, were ranged round the Entrance Hall, besides caustulates, almane rivets, steel caps, and other accoutrements. This stand of arms having been collected by Sir Richard's predecessor, during the military muster made in the county in 1574, when he had raised and equipped a troop of horse for Queen Elizabeth. Outside the mansion was a garden, charmingly laid out in parters and walks, and not only carried to the edge of the moat, but continued beyond it, till it reached a high knoll, crowned with beech trees. A crest of tall twisted chimneys, a high roof with quaintly carved gables, surmounted by many gilt veins, may serve to complete the picture of Middleton Hall. On a lovely summer evening, two young persons of opposite sexes were seated on a bench, placed at the foot of one of the largest and most umbrageous of the beech trees, crowning the pleasant eminence before mentioned, and though differing in aspect and character, the one being excessively fair, with tresses as light and fleecy as the clouds above them, and eyes as blue and tender as the skies, and the other distinguished by great manly beauty, though in a totally different style. Still there was a sufficiently strong likeness between them to proclaim them brother and sister. Profound melancholy pervaded the countenance of the young man, whose handsome brow was clouded by care, while the girl, though sad, seemed so only from sympathy. They were conversing together in deep and earnest tones, showing how greatly they were interested, and as they proceeded many an involuntary sigh was heaved by Richard Asherton, while a tear more than once dimmed the brightness of his sister's eyes, and her hands sought by its gentle pressure to reassure him. They were talking of Alison, 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 Horton Tower. With the first request Richard willingly complied, and he assented, though with some reluctance, to the second, providing nothing of serious moment should occur in the interim. Nicholas tried to rally him on his despondency, endeavouring to convince him that 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 feign also have seen Alison, but understanding she always remained secluded in her chamber till even tied, 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 the 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 all he had heard from Nicholas. Her alarm at Gem 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 Allison'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. Allison, 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 on her timid nature, and he therefore kept the mental anguish he endured to himself, hoping ere long it would diminish in intensity. But in this he was deceived, for instead of abating, his gloom and depression momentally increased. Almost unconsciously, Richard and his sister had quitted the garden, proceeding with slow and melancholy steps to the beach-crown knoll. The seat they had chosen was a favourite one with Allison, and she came there 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 the same meek yet firm refusal. To Dorothy also, who pleaded her brother's cause with all that eloquence and fervour of which she was Mistress, Allison 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 Panamount 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 overzeal, but Allison was deaf to her remonstrances, as she had been to the entreaties of Richard. With heart's less burden, 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 tranquility 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 gray 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 husband-men returning from their work, mingled with the coring 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 trempastures, 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 in aptly 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 that 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. Ah, 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 blight laughter, and well-knight kill me with your jests. If love is to make one mope like an owl, and sigh like the wind through a half-short casement. If it is to cause one to lose one's rosy complexion and gay spirits, 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. Ah, 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 I'm haunted by a thousand dismal fancies. But I will do my best to dismiss them with your help, no doubt I shall succeed. There, that was a smile in earnest, cried Dorothy, brightening up. Oh, Richard, I'm 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 Allison. 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'm 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 can never forget her unhallowed proceedings in the Convent Church at Whaley, when 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, Allison no doubt will mourn for her, though I shall not, and after a decent interval. Then, Richard, 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 Allison 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 nicence. 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? Woe to her, I fear! Woe to Allison! Woe 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 legal 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 Allison. It is this. Orders have been this day given for the arrest of Elizabeth Device and her daughter Janet, and Allison 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 blame 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 Allison, I should rejoice that the noxious brooch had at last be utterly exterminated. And so should I in good suit, responded Dorothy. As to Elizabeth Device, she is bad enough for anything, and capable of almost any mischief, but she is nothing to Janet, who I am persuaded would become a second mother dendike 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 shoulders, eyes set strangely in her face, and such a malicious expression. I should have 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, escossing 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 bow above her. During the latter part of the conversation, and when it turned upon the arrest of Janet 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 bowl 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, as 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 reassure her. Do not be alarmed, he said. It is nothing, a momentary faintness, that is all. But the damp upon his brow, and the desolate 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 past. Do you not see Allison coming towards us? Not a word of this sudden seizure to her. Do you mind, Dorothy? Allison was soon close behind them, and though in obedience to Richard's injunctions no illusion 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 brought in Allison's appearance and manner during the last few weeks that she could scarcely be recognised. Still beautiful as ever, her beauty had lost the 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 fullness of outline. But this attenuation had a charm of its own, and gave a touching interest to the figure which was wanting before. If her cheek 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 Janet device, especially the latter, for this unhappy and misguided child she had once entertained the affection of a sister, and it could not be but 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 Allison, 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. Allison 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 afraid of 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 Janet was hidden there, and the next moment the little girl stepped from out of the trees. Allison's first impulse was to catch the child in her arms and press her to her bosom, but there was something in Janet'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. Janet seemed to enjoy her confusion, and laughed spitefully. 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 is possible. Janet, 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 past, 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. Janet laughed louder and more spitefully than before, and looked so like a little fury that Alison's blood ran cold at the sight of it. And now it's your sister, Alison, she cried, and that is why I have come here. But the gem's a prisonery welly abbey. Mother's a prisoner there, too, and I should have kept them company if Tib had not brought me off. Now listen to me, Alison, for this is my business with you. Your mum get mother and gem out tonight. Ah, tonight you can't do it if you win, and unless you do, but our winner threaten you till I get your answer. How am I to set them free? asked Alison, greatly alarmed. Your need only say the word to young Wretched Asherton, and the job's done. replied Janet. I refuse, positively refuse to do so. Rejoined Alison indignantly. And then it well, cried Janet, with the look of concentrated malice and fury, and took the consequences, that when we turned to Lancaster Castle and loosed their lives there. But you shouldn't go too high and be blunt as a witch. A witch, you mark, won't you? I defy your malice, cried Alison. Defy me, screamed Janet. What art, Tib? And at the call a huge black cat sprang from out of the shrubbery. Terror flesh from her bones! cried the little girl, pointing to Alison, 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. Alison, who had completely recovered her courage, regarded him fixedly, and apparently without terror. Well, how does that saison and terrorly paces? cried the infuriated child. He dares not. He has no power over me, said Alison. Oh, Janet, 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 Janet, repelling her with furious gestures. Off! I wouldn't go with you. I wouldn't be saved, as you term it. I hate you more than ever, and I would strike you dead at my feet if I could. But as I cannot do it, I would find some other means of injuring you. So look to yourself, proud lady. Look to yourself. I already smitten you in a place where you wouldn't feel it so, and I wouldn't repeat the blow. And I'll leave you, but we shall meet again. Come along, Tib. So, saying, she sprang into the shrubbery followed by the cat, leaving Alison appalled by her frightful malignity.