 Book 1, Chapter 10 of The Lancashire Witches. The Lancashire Witches, A Romance of Pendle Forest By William Harrison Ainsworth Book 1, Alice and Device Chapter 10 The Nocturnal Meeting Ongaining the head of the staircase leading to the corridor, Estherist Nutter, whose movements had hitherto been extremely rapid, paused with her daughter to listen to the sounds arising from below. Suddenly was heard a loud cry, and the music, which had waxed fast and furious in order to keep pace with the frenzied boundings of the squire, ceased at once, showing some interruption had occurred. While from the confused noise that ensued, it was evident that the sudden stoppage had been the result of accident. With blanched cheek, Alice and listened, scarcely daring to look at her mother, whose expression of countenance, revealed by the lamp she held in her hand, almost frightened her, and it was a great relief to hear the voices and laughter of the serving men, as they came forth with Nicholas, and bore him towards another part of the mansion. And no much shocked, she was glad when one of them, who appeared to be Nicholas's own servant, assured the others that it was only a drunken fit, and that the squire would wake up next morning, as if nothing had happened. Apparently satisfied with this explanation, Estherist Nutter moved on, but a new feeling of uneasiness came over Alice and as she followed her down the long dusky corridor, in the direction of the mysterious chamber where they were to pass the night. The fitful flame of the lamp fell upon many a grim painting depicting the sufferings of the early martyrs, and these ghastly representations did not serve to reassure her. The grotesque carvings on the panels and ribs of the vaulted roof likewise impressed her with vague terror, and there was one large piece of sculpture, St Theodora, subjected to diabolical temptation, as described in the Golden Legend, that absolutely scared her. Their footsteps echoed hollowly overhead, and more than once, deceived by the sound, Alice and turned to see if anyone was behind them. At the end of the corridor lay the room, once occupied by the superior of the religious establishment, and still known from that circumstance as the Abbotchamber. Connected with this apartment was the beautiful oratory built by Pasley, wherein he had kept his last vigils, and though now no longer applied to purposes of worship, still wearing from the character of its architecture its sculptured ornaments and the painted glass in its casements a dim religious air. The Abbotchamber was allotted to Dorothy Ascherton, and from its somber magnificence, as well as the ghostly tales connected with it, had impressed her with so much superstitious misgiving, that she besought Alice and to share her couch with her, but the young girl did not dare to assent. Just however as Mistress Nutter was about to enter her own room, Dorothy appeared on the corridor, and calling to Alice and to stay a moment, flew quickly towards her, and renewed the proposition. Alice and looked at her mother, but the latter decidedly and somewhat sternly negative did. The young girls then said good night, kissing each other affectionately, after which Alice and entered the room with Mistress Nutter, and the door was closed. Two tapers were burning on the dressing table, and their light fell upon the carved figures of the wardrobe, which still exercised the same weird influence over her. Mistress Nutter neither seemed disposed to retire to rest immediately, nor willing to talk, but sat down and was soon lost in thought. After a while, an impulse of curiosity which she could not resist, prompted Alice and to peep into the closet, and pushing aside the tapestry, partly drawn over the entrance, she held the lamp forward, so as to throw its light into the little chamber. A mere glance was all she was allowed, but it suffice to show her the large oak chest, though the monkish robe lately suspended above it, and which had particularly attracted her attention was gone. Mistress Nutter had noticed the movement, and instantly and somewhat sharply recalled her. As Alice and obeyed, a slight tap was heard at the door. The young girl turned pale, for in her present frame of mind any little matter affected her, nor were her apprehensions materially allayed by the entrance of Dorothy, who, looking white as a sheet, said she did not dare to remain in her own room, having been terribly frightened by seeing a monkish figure in mouldering white garments, exactly resembling one of the carved images on the wardrobe, issue from behind the hangings on the wall and glide into the oratory, and she entreated Mistress Nutter to let Alice and go back with her. The request was proromptorily refused, and the lady, ridiculing Dorothy for her fears, bade her return, but she still lingered. This relation filled Alice and with inexpressible alarm, for though she did not dare to allude to the disappearance of the monkish gown, she could not help connecting the circumstance with the ghostly figure seen by Dorothy. Unable otherwise to get rid of the terrified intruder, whose presence was an evident restraint to her, Mistress Nutter at length consented to accompany her to her room, and convince her of the folly of her fears by an examination of the oratory. Alice and went with them, her mother not choosing to leave her behind, and indeed she herself was most anxious to go. The abbot's chamber was large and gloomy, nearly twice the size of the room occupied by Mistress Nutter, but resembling it in many respects, as well as in the dusky hue of its hangings and furniture, most of which had been undisturbed since the days of Pasliu. The very bed of carved oak was that in which he had slept, and his arms were still displayed upon it, and in the painted glass of the windows. As Alice and entered, she looked round with apprehension, but nothing occurred to justify her uneasiness. Having raised the iris from behind which Dorothy averred the figure had issued, and discovering nothing but a panel of oak, with a smile of incredulity, Mistress Nutter walked boldly towards the oratory, the two girls hand in hand following trembling near after her, but no fearful object met their view. The living-table, with a large mirror upon it, occupied the spot where the altar had formerly stood, but in spite of this, and of other furniture, the little place of prayer, as has previously been observed, retained much of its original character, and seemed more calculated to inspire sentiments of devotional awe than any other. After remaining for a short time in the oratory, during which she pointed out the impossibility of any one being concealed there, Mistress Nutter assured Dorothy that she might rest quite easy that nothing further would occur to alarm her, and recommending her to lose the sense of her fears as speedily as she could in sleep, took her departure with Alice, but the recommendation was of little avail. The poor girl's heart died within her, and all her former terrors returned, and with additional force. Sitting down, she looked fixedly at the hangings till her eyes ate, and then, covering her face with her hands, and scarcely daring to breathe, she listened intently for the slightest sound. A rustle would have made her scream, but all was still as death, so profoundly quiet that the very hush and silence became a new cause of disquietude, and longing for some cheerful sound to break it, she would have spoken aloud, but from a fear of hearing her own voice. A book lay before her, and she is said to read it, but in vain. She was ever glancing fearfully round, ever listening intently. This state could not endure forever, and feeling a drowsiness still over her, she yielded to it, and at length dropped asleep in her chair. Her dreams, however, were influenced by her mental condition, and slumber was no refuge, as promised by Mistress Nutter, from the hauntings of terror. At last a jarring sound aroused her, and she found she had been awakened by the clock striking twelve. Her lamp required trimming, and burnt dimly, but by its imperfect light she saw the arrow's move. This could be no fancy, for the next moment the hangings were raised, and a figure looked from behind them, and this time it was not the monk, but a female, robed in white. A glimpse of the figure was all Dorothy caught, for it instantly retreated, and the tapestry fell back to its place against the wall. Scared by this apparition, Dorothy rushed out of the room so hurriedly that she forgot to take her lamp, and made her way, she scarcely knew how, to the adjoining chamber. She did not tap at the door, but trying it, and finding it unfastened, opened it softly, and closed it after her, resolved, if the occupants of the room were asleep, not to disturb them, but to pass the night in a chair. The presence of some living beings beside her, sufficing in some degree to dispel her terrors. The room was buried in darkness, the tapers being extinguished. Advancing on tiptoe, she soon discovered a seat, when what was her surprise to find Alison asleep within it? She was sure it was Alison, for she had touched her head and face, and she felt surprised that the contact had not awakened her. Still more surprised did she feel that the young girl had not retired to rest. Again she stepped forward, inserted of another chair, when a gleam of light suddenly shot from one side of the bed, and the tapestry, masking the entrance of the closet, was slowly drawn aside. From behind it the next moment appeared the same female figure, robed in white, that she had previously beheld in the abbot's chamber. The figure held a lamp in one hand and a small box in the other, and to her unspeakable horror disclosed the livid and contorted countenance of Mistress Nutter. Treadful though undefined suspicions crossed her mind, and she feared if discovered she would be sacrificed to the fury of this strange and terrible woman. Luckily, where she stood, though Mistress Nutter was revealed to her, she herself was screened from view by the hangings of the bed, and looking around for a hiding-place she observed that the mysterious wardrobe close behind her was open, and without a moment's hesitation she slipped into the cupboard, and drew the door too noiselessly. But her curiosity overmastered her fear, and firmly believing some magic or rite was about to be performed, she sought for means of beholding it, nor was she long in discovering a small eyelet-hole in the carving which commanded the room. Unconscious of any other presence than that of Alison, whose stupor appeared to occasion her no uneasiness, Mistress Nutter placed the lamp upon the table, made fast the door, and muttering some unintelligible words, unlocked the box. It contained two singularly shaped glass vessels, the one filled with a bright sparkling liquid, and the other with a greenish-coloured ungluent. Pouring forth a few drops of the liquid into a glass near her, Mistress Nutter swallowed them, and then, taking some of the ungluent upon her hands, proceeded to anoint her face and neck with it, exclaiming as she did so, Imenhetan, Imenhetan, words that fixed themselves upon the listener's memory. Wondering what would follow, Dorothy gazed on, when she suddenly lost sight of Mistress Nutter, and after looking for her as far as her range of vision, limited by the aperture, would extend, she became convinced that she had left the room. All remaining quiet, she ventured after a while to quit her hiding-place, and flying to Allison tried to waken her, but in vain. The poor girl retained the same moveless attitude, and appeared plunged in a deathly stupor. Much frightened, Dorothy resolved to alarm the house, but some fears of Mistress Nutter restrained her, and she crept towards the closet to see whether that dread lady could be there. All was perfectly still, and somewhat emboldened she returned to the table, where the box, which was left open and its contents unguarded, attracted her attention. What was the liquid in the file? What could it do? These were questions she asked herself, and longing to try the effect, she ventured at last to pour forth a few drops and taste it. It was like a potent distillation, and she became instantly sensible of a strange bewildering excitement. Presently her brain reeled, and she laughed wildly. Never before had she felt so light and buoyant, and wings seemed scarcely wanting to enable her to fly. An idea occurred to her. The wondrous liquid might arouse Allison. The experiment should be tried at once, and dipping her finger in the file, she touched the lips of the sleeper, who sighed deeply, and opened her eyes. Another drop, and Allison was on her feet, gazing at her in astonishment, and laughing wildly as herself. Poor girls! How wild and strange they looked! And how unlike themselves! With her are you going? cried Allison. To the moon, to the stars, anywhere! rejoined Dorothy with a laugh of frantic glee. I will go with you! cried Allison, echoing the laugh. Here and there, here and there! exclaimed Dorothy, taking her hand. Emenhetan, emenhetan! As the mystic words were uttered, they started away. It seemed as if no impediments could stop them. How they crossed the closet, passed through a sliding panel into the abbot's room, entered the oratory, and from it descended by a secret staircase to the garden, they knew not. But there they were, gliding swiftly along in the moonlight, like winged spirits. What took them towards the conventional church, they could not say. But they were drawn thither, as the ship was irresistibly dragged towards the lodestone rock described in the Eastern legend. Nothing surprised them then, or they might have been struck by the dense vapour, enveloping the monastic ruins and shrouding them from view. Or was it, until they entered the desecrated fabric, that any consciousness of what was passing around returned to them. Their ears were then assailed by a wild hubbub of discordant sounds, hootings and croakings, as of owls and ravens, shrieks and jarring cries as of nightbirds, bellowing as of cattle, groans and dismal sounds mixed with unearthly laughter, undefined in extraordinary shapes, whether men or women, beings of this world or of another, they could not tell, though they judged them to be the latter, flew past, with wild hoops and piercing cries, flapping the air as if with great leather and bat-like wings, or bestriding black monstrous mischaven steeds, fantastical and grotesque with these objects, yet hideous and appalling. Now and then a red and fiery star would whizz, crackling through the air, and then exploding break into numerous pale phosphoric lights, that danced a while overhead, and then flitted away among the ruins. The ground seemed to heave and tremble beneath the footsteps, as if the graves were opening to give forth their dead, while toads and hissing reptiles crept forth. Appalled, and yet partly restored to herself by this confused and horrible din, Alice and stood still, and kept fast hold of Dorothy, who, seemingly under a stronger influence than herself, was drawn towards the eastern end of the fane, where a fire appeared to be blazing, a strong, ruddy glare being cast upon the broken roof of the choir, and the mouldering arches round it. The noises around them suddenly ceased, and all the upper oar seemed concentrated near the spot where the fire was burning. Dorothy besought her friend so earnestly to let her see what was going forward that Alice and reluctantly and tremblingly assented, and they moved slowly towards the transept, taking care to keep under the shelter of the columns. On reaching the last pillar, behind which they remained, an extraordinary and fearful spectacle burst upon them, as they had supposed a large fire was burning in the midst of the choir, the smoke of which, ascending in eddying wreaths, formed a dark canopy overhead, where it was mixed with the steam eschewing from a large black bubbling cauldron set on the blazing embers. Around the fire were arranged in a wide circle an assemblage of men and women, but chiefly of the latter, and of these almost all old, hideous, and of malignant aspect, their grim and sinister features looking ghastly in the lurid light. Above them, amid the smoke and steam-wield bat and flitter mouse, horned owl and screech owl in mazy circles, the weird assemblage chattered together in some wild jargon, mumbling and muttering spells and incantations, chanting fearfully with horse-cracked voices, a wild chorus, and a non-breaking into a loud and long-continued peel of laughter. Then there was more mumbling, chattering and singing, and one of the troop, producing a wallet, hobbled forward. She was a fearful old crone, hunched back, toothless, blear-eyed, bearded, halt, with huge, gouty feet swathed in flannel. As she cast in the ingredients one by one, she chanted thus, Hit of monkey, brain of cat, eye of weasel, tail of rat, Joseph mugwort, mastic, myrrh, all within the pot I stir. Well sung, mother Maldhales! cried the little old man, whose doublet and hose were of rusty black, with a short cloak of the same hue over his shoulders. Well sung, mother Maldhales! he cried, advancing as the old witch retired, amid a roar of laughter from the others, and chanting as he filled the cauldron, here is found her mad dog's lips, gathered beneath the moon's eclipse, ashes of a shroud consumed, and with deadly vapour fumed. These within the mess I cast, stir the cauldron, stir it fast. A red-haired witch then took his place, singing, Here are snakes from out the river, bones of toad and sea-caste liver, swine's flesh fattened on her brood, wolf's tooth, hair's foot, weasel's blood, skull of ape and fierce baboon, and panther spotted like the moon, feathers of the horned owl, door-pie, another fatal foul, fruit from the fig tree never sown, saves from cypress never grown, all within the mess I cast, stir the cauldron, stir it fast. Nance Redfern then advanced, and taking from her wallet a small clay image, tricked out in a tire intended to resemble that of James' device, plunged several pins deeply into its breast, singing as she did so thus. In his laxus it is moulded, in his vestments it is enfolded, ye may know it as I show it. In its breast sharp pins I stick, and I drive them to the quick, they are in, they are in, and the wretches' pangs begin. Now his heart feels as smart, though his marrow sharp as arrow, dolments quiver, he shall shiver, he shall burn, he shall toss, and he shall turn, unveiling the ache shall rack him, cramps attack him, he shall wail, strength shall fail, till he die miserably. As Nance retired another witch advanced, and sang thus, Over mountain, over valley, over woodland, over waste, On our gallant broomsticks riding we have come with frantic haste, And the reason of our coming, as ye watch well, is to see, Who this night has new-made witch to our rank shall added be. A wild burst of laughter followed this address, and another wizard succeeded, chanting thus, Beat the water, Demdike's daughter, Till the tempest gathered auras, Till the thunder strike with wonder, And the lightnings flash before us. Beat the water, Demdike's daughter, Ruin sees our foes and slaughter. As the words were uttered, a woman stepped from out the circle, and throwing back the grey-hooded cloak in which she was enveloped, disclosed the features of Elizabeth's device. Her presence in that fearful assemblage occasioned no surprise to Alison, though it increased her horror. A pail of water was next set before the witch, and a broom being placed in her hand she struck the lymph with it, sprinkling it aloft and uttering this spell. Beat water to the skies, beat the sudden storm arise, beat the pitchy clouds advance, beat the forky lightnings glance, beat the angry thunder growl, beat the wild wind fiercely howl, beat the tempest, come a man, thunder, lightning, wind, and rain! As she concluded, clouds gathered thickly overhead, obscuring the stars that had hitherto shone down from the heavens. The wind suddenly arose, but in lieu of dispersing the vapours it seemed only to condense them. A flash of forked lightning cut through the air, and a loud peal of thunder rolled overhead. Then the whole troupe sang together, Beat the water, Demdike's daughter, Say the tempest gathered all us, lightning flashes, thunder crashes, wild wind singing, lest they carous. For a brief space the storm raged fearfully, and recalled the terror of that previously witnessed by Ellison, which she now began to think might have originated in a similar manner. The wind raved round the ruined pile, but its breath was not felt within it, and the rain was heard descending in deluging showers without, though no drop came through the open roof. The thunder shook the walls and pillars of the old fabric, and threatened to topple them down from their foundations, but they resisted the shocks. The lightning played around the tall spire, springing from this part of the fane, and ran down from its shattered summit to its base without doing any damage. The red bolts struck the ground innocuously, though they fell at the very feet of the weird assemblage, who laughed wildly at the awful tumult. While the storm was at its worst, while the lightning was flashing fiercely and the thunder rattling loudly, Mother Chateauks, with a chafing dish in her hand, advanced towards the fire, and placing the pan upon it, through certain herbs and roots into it, chanting thus, Here is Joseph Poppy-brewed, with back helly-bar infused. Here is Mandrex bleeding root, mixed with moonshades, deadly fruit. The shepherd's bag with venom filled, thick and air the beast was killed. Adder's skin and raven's feather, with shell of beetle blint together, orange-wirt and barbatus, himlock black and poisonous. All of hearts and storks red, blackwing's blood at midnight shed, in the heated pan they burn, and the pungent vapour's turn, by this strong suffomigation, by this potent invocation, spirits are compel you here, all who list my call appear. After a moment's pause, she resumed as follows, White-robed brethren who have old, nightly-paced young cloisters cold, sleeping now beneath the mould, my bid ye rise! Adder's, by the weakling feared, by the credulous revered, who this mighty fabric reared, my bid ye rise! And thou last and guilty one, by that lust of power undone, whom in death thy fellows shun, abid they come! And thou, fair one, who distend, to keep the vows thy lips adfend, and thy snowy garments stand, abid they come! During this invocation, the glee of the assemblage ceased, and they looked around in hushed expectation of the result. Slowly then did a long procession of monkish forms, robed in white, glide along the aisles and gather round the altar. The brass-covered stones within the presbytery were lifted up, as if they moved on hinges. And from the yawning graves beneath them arose solemn shapes, sixteen in number, each with miter on head and crozier in hand, which likewise proceeded to the altar. Then a loud cry was heard, and from a side chapel burst the monkish form in mouldring garments, which Dorothy had seen enter the oratory, and which would have mingled with its brethren at the altar, but they waved it off menacingly. Another piercing shriek followed, and a female shape, habited like a nun, and of surpassing loveliness, issued from the opposite chapel, and hovered near the fire. Content with this proof of her power, Mother Chatex waved her hand, and the long shadowy train glided off as they came. The ghostly abbots returned to their tombs, and the stones closed over them. But the shades of past view, and a solar heatant, still lingered. The storm had well nice-east, the thunder rolled hollowly at intervals, and a flash of lightning now and then licked the walls. The weird crew had resumed their rites, when the door of the nady chapel flew open, and a tall female figure came forward. Allison doubted if she beheld a rite. Could that terrific woman in the strangely fashioned robe of white, girt by a brazen zone, graven with mystic characters, with a long glittering blade in her hand, infernal fury in her wildly rolling orbs, the livery hue of death on her cheeks, and the red brand upon her brow? Could that fearful woman, with the black disheveled tresses floating over her bare shoulders, and whose gestures were so imperious, be mistress nutter? Mother, no longer, if it indeed were she, how came she there amid that weird assemblage? Why did they so humbly salute her, and fall prostrate before her, kissing the hem of her garment? Why did she stand proudly in the midst of them, and extend her hand, armed with the knife over them? Was she there sovereign mistress, that they bent so lowly at her coming, and rose so reverentially at her bidding? Was this terrible woman now seated on a dilapidated tomb, and regarding the dark conclave with the eye of a queen, who held the lives in her hand? Was she her mother? Oh no, no, it could not be! It must be some fiend that usurped her likeness. Still, though Allison thus strove to discredit the evidence of her senses, and to hold all she saw to be delusion, and the work of darkness, she could not entirely convince herself, but imperfectly recalling the fearful vision she had witnessed during her former stupa, began to connect it with the scene now passing before her. The storm had wholly ceased, and the stars again twinkled down through the shattered roof. Deep silence prevailed, broken only by the hissing and bubbling of the cauldron. Allison's gaze was riveted upon her mother, whose slightest gesture she watched. After numbering the assemblage thrice, Mistress Nutter majestically arose, and motioning Mother Chatec towards her, the old witch tremblingly advanced, and some words passed between them, the import of which did not reach the listener's ear. In conclusion, however, Mistress Nutter exclaimed aloud, in accents of command, Go! Bring it at once! The sacrifice must be made, and on this Mother Chatec's hobbled off to one of the side-chappals. A mortal terror seized Allison, and she could scarcely draw breath. Dark tales had been told her that unbaptised infants were sometimes sacrificed by witches, and their flesh boiled and devoured at their impious banquets, and dreading lest some such atrocity was now about to be practised, she mustered all her resolution, determined at any risk to interfere and, if possible, prevent its accomplishment. In another moment Mother Chatec returned, bearing something living wrapped in a white cloth which struggled feebly for liberation, apparently confirming Allison's superstitions, and she was about to rush forward when Mistress Nutter, snatching the bundle from the old witch, opened it, and disclosed a beautiful bird with plumage white as the driven snow, whose legs were tied together so that it could not escape. Conjecturing what was to follow, Allison averted her eyes, and when she looked round again the bird had been slain, while Mother Chatec's was in the act of throwing its body into the cauldron, muttering a charm as she did so. Mistress Nutter held the ensanguine knife aloft, and, casting some ruddy drops into the glowing embers, pronounced, as a hissed and smoked, the following adoration, thy aid I seek, infernal power, be thy word sent to Malkin Tower, that the bell-dam old may know, where I will, thou'dst have her go, what I will, thou'dst have her do. An immediate response was made by an awful voice, issuing apparently from the bowels of the earth, thou who seeks the demon's aid, most the price that must be paid. The Queen Witch rejoined, I do, but grant the aid I crave, and that, thou wishest, thou shalt have. Another worshipper is one, thine to be, when all is done. Again the deep voice spake, with something of mockery in its accent. Enough, proud witch, I am content, to Malkin Tower the word is sent, forth to her task the bell-dam goes, and where she points the streamlet flows, its customary bed forsaking, another distant channel making, round about like elf its tripping, stock and stone and tree are skipping, halting where she plants her staff, with a wild, exulting laugh, oh, it is a merry sight, thou hast given the hag to-night. Lo, the sheepfold and the herd, to another sight are stirred, and the ragged limestone quarry, where it was digged, may no more tarry, while the goblin-haunted dingle, with another dell must mingle. Pendlemoor is in commotion, like the billows of the ocean. When the winds are o'er its ranging, heaving, falling, bursting changing, oh, it is a merry sight, thou hast given the hag to-night. Lo, the moss-full sudden flies in another spot to rise, and the scanty-grown plantation finds another situation. And a more congenial soil, without kneading woodman's toil, now the warren moves and see, how the burrowing rabbit flees, hither, thither, till they find it, with another break behind it. Oh, it is a merry sight, thou hast given the hag to-night. Lo, new lines the witch is tracing, every well-known marky-facing, elsewhere other bounds erecting, so the old there's no detecting. Oh, it is a pastime quite, thou hast given the hag to-night. The hound at Eve, who wandered o'er the dreary waste of Pendlemoor, shall wake at dawn and in surprise doubt the strange sight that meets his eyes. The pathway leading to his hut winds differently, the gate is shut, the ruin on the right that stood lies on the left, and neither would. The paddock fenced with wall of stones, well stocked with kind a mile hath flown. The sheepfold and the herd are gone, through channels new the brooklet rushes, its ancient course concealed by bushes. Where the hollow was a mound rises from the upheaved ground, doubting, shouting with surprise, how the fool stares and rubs his eyes. All so changed the simple elf, fancies he has changed himself. Oh, it is a merry sight, the hag shall have when dawn's the light, but see she halts and waves her hand. All is done as thou hast bland. After a moment's pause the voice added, I have done as thou hast willed. Now be thy path straight fulfilled. It shall be, replied Mistress Nutter, whose features gleamed with a fierce exultation. Bring forth the prosolite, she shouted, and at her words her swarthy serving-man, Blackadder, came forth from the lacy chapel, leading Janet by the hand. They were followed by Tib, who, dilated to twice his former size, walked with taillirect and eyes glowing like carbuncles. At the sight of her daughter, a loud cry of rage and astonishment burst from Elizabeth's device, and rushing forward she would have seized her if Tib had not kept her off by a formidable display of teeth and allons. Janet made no effort to join her mother, but regarded her with a malicious and triumphant grin. This is bed-chilled, screamed Elizabeth. She cannot be baptized without my consent, and I refuse it. I had done the wanted to be a witch, at least, not yet a while. What may you hear, you little plague? I were brought here, mother, replied Janet, with affected simplicity. Then get all my wands and stop there, rejoined Elizabeth furiously. He asked no go just yet, replied Janet, and feigned be a witch as well as you. Ho-ho-ho-ho! laughed the voice from below. Nay, nay, I forbid it, shrieked Elizabeth. Yes, shabba be baptized. Why are you brought here, madam? She addressed to Mr. Snutter. You are still enough from me, but I have to test again it. Your consent is not required, replied Mr. Snutter, waving her off. Your daughter is anxious to become a witch. That is enough. She is not odd enough to act for herself, said Elizabeth. Age matters not, replied Mr. Snutter. What may I do to become a witch? asked Janet. You must renounce all hopes of heaven, replied Mr. Snutter, and devote yourself to Satan. You will then be baptized in his name, and become one of his worshippers. You will have power to afflict all persons with bodily ailments, to destroy cattle, blight corn, burned dwellings. And if you be so minded, kill those you hate or who molest you. Do you desire to do all this? Ah, that I do, replied Janet. I had more pleasure in evil than good, and would rather see forth weak than naff. And if I had the power, I would so punish them as dear at me, that they should row it to their day and day. All this you shall do, and more. Rejoin, Mr. Snutter. You'll renounce all hopes of salvation, then, and devote yourself soul and body to the powers of darkness? Elizabeth, who will still kept her bay by tib, shaking her arms and gnashing her teeth in impotent rage, now groaned aloud. But ere, Janet could answer, a piercing cry was heard, which thrilled through Mr. Snutter's bosom and Allison, rushing from her place of concealment, past through the weird circle, and stood beside the group in the midst of it. Forbear, Janet! She cried, Forbear, pronounce not these impious words, or you are lost forever. Come with me, and I will save you. Sister Allison! cried Janet, staring at her in surprise. What makes you here? Do not ask, but come! cried Allison, trying to take her hand. Oh, what is this? cried Mr. Snutter. Now partly recovered from the consternation and astonishment, into which she had been thrown by Allison's unexpected appearance. Why are you here? How have you broken the chains of slumber in which I bound you? Fly! Fly at once! This girl is past your help. You cannot save her! She is already devoted. Fly! I am powerless to protect you here. Ho-ho-ho-ho! laughed the voice. Do you not hear that laughter? cried Mr. Snutter with a haggard look. Go! Never without Janet! replied Allison, firmly. My child, my child, on my knees I implore you to depart! cried Mr. Snutter, throwing herself before her. You know not your danger. Oh, fly! fly! But Allison continued inflexible. You are carty around snare, madam! cried Elizabeth device, with a taunting laugh. Since Janet won't be a witch, Allison gon' be a taste as well. Your consent is not required. An age matters not. Curses upon thy malice! cried Mr. Snutter, rising. What can be done in this extremity? Nothing! replied the voice. Janet is mine already. If not brought hither by thee, or by her mother, she would have come of her own accord. I have watched her, and marked her for my own. Besides, she is fated. The curse of Passlew clings to her. As the words were uttered, the shade of the abbot glided forward, and touching the shuddering child upon the brow with its finger, vanished with a lamentable cry. Neal, Janet! cried Allison, kneel and pray. To me rejoined the voice. She can bend to no other power. Alice Knutter, thou hast sought to deceive me, but in vain. I bad thee bring thy daughter here, and in place of her thou offerest me the child of another, who is mine already. I am not thus to be trifled with. Thou knowest my will. Sprinkle water over her head, and devote her to me. Allison would have pain have thrown herself on her knees, but extremity of horror or some over-mastering influence held her fast, and she remained with her gaze fixed upon her mother, who seemed torn by conflicting emotions. Is there no way to avoid this? cried Mistress Knutter. No way but one, replied the voice. I have been offered a new devotee, and I claim fulfilment of the promise. Thy daughter or another it matters not, but not Janet. I embrace the alternative, cried Mistress Knutter. It must be done upon the instant, said the voice. It shall be, replied Mistress Knutter. And stretching her arm in the direction of the mansion, she called in a loud, imperious voice, Dorothy Ascherton, come hither. A minute elapsed, but no one appeared. And with a look of disappointment, Mistress Knutter repeated the gesture and the words. Still no one came. Baffled, she exclaimed, what can it mean? There is a maiden within the South Transit, who is not one of my servants, cried the voice, call her. To she, cried Mistress Knutter, stretching her arm towards the Transit. This time I am answered, she added. As with a wild laugh, Dorothy obeyed the summons. I have anointed myself with the England and drank of the potion. Cried Dorothy, with a wild gesture and wild a laughter. Ah, this accounts for her presence here, muttered Mistress Knutter. But it could not be better. She is in no mood to offer resistance. Dorothy, thou shalt be a witch. A witch? exclaimed the bewildered maiden. Is Alison a witch? We are all witches here, replied Mistress Knutter. Alison had no power to contradict her. A merry company, exclaimed Dorothy, laughing loudly. You will say so and on, replied Mistress Knutter, waving her hand over her and muttering a spell. But you see them not in their true forms, Dorothy. Look again. What do you behold now? In place of a troupe of old wrinkled crones in the wretched habilliment, replied Dorothy, I behold a band of lovely nymphs in light, gauzy attire, wreathed with flowers and holding mertral and olive branches in their hands. See they rise and prepare for the dance. Strange of ravishing music, salute the ear. I never heard sound so sweet and stirring. The round is formed, the dance begins. How gracefully, how lightly they move! Alison could not check her, could not un-deceive her, for power of speech as of movement was denied her. But she comprehended the strange delusion under which the poor girl laboured. The figures Dorothy described as young and lovely were still to her the same loathsome and abhorrent witches. The ravishing music jarred discordantly on her ear, as if produced by a shrill corn-muse. And the lightsome dance was a fantastic round, performed with shouts and laughter by the whole unhallowed crew. Janet laughed immoderately, and seemed delighted by the antics of the troupe. I have never wished to dance her for, she cried. Oh, I should like to try now. Join them then, said Mistress Nutter. And to the little girl's infinite delight a place was made for her in the round, and taking hands with mother-mold heels and the red-haired witch, she footed it as merrily as the rest. Who is she in that unlike habit? inquired Dorothy, pointing to the shade if he sold a heaton, which still hovered near the weird assemblage. She seems more beautiful than all the others. Will she not dance with me? He'd her not, said Mistress Nutter. Dorothy, however, would not be gainsaid, but spite of the caution, beckoned the figure towards her. He came at once, and in another instant its arms were enlaced around her. The same frenzy that had seized Nicholas now took possession of Dorothy, and her dance with his soul might have come to a similar conclusion, if it had not been abruptly checked by Mistress Nutter. Who, waving her hand and pronouncing a spell, the figure instantly quitted Dorothy and, with a wild shriek, fled. How like you these diversions, said Mistress Nutter, to the panting an almost breathless maiden. Marvelously, replied Dorothy, but why have you scared my partner away? Because she would have done you a mischief, rejoined Mistress Nutter. But now let me put a question to you. Are you willing to renounce your baptism and enter into a covenant with the Prince of Darkness? Dorothy did not seem in the least to comprehend what was said to her, but she nevertheless replied, I am. Bring water and salt, said Mistress Nutter to Mother Chatex. By these drops I baptize you, she added, dipping her finger in the liquid, and preparing to sprinkle it over the brow of the broselite. Then it was that I listened by an almost superhuman effort, burst the spell that bound her, and clasped Dorothy in her arms. You know not what you do, dear Dorothy, she cried. I answer for you. You will not yield to the snares and temptations of Satan, however subtly devised. You defy him, at all his works. You will make no covenant with him. Though surrounded by his bond-slaves, you fear him not. Is it not so? Speak. But Dorothy could only answer with an insane laugh. I will be a witch. It is too late, interposed Mistress Nutter. You cannot save her, and remember, she stands in your place. You or she must be devoted. I will never desert her, cried Alice, and, turning her arms around her, Dorothy dear, Dorothy, address yourself to heaven. An angry growl of thunder was heard. Beware, cried Mistress Nutter. I am not to be discouraged, rejoined Alice and firmly. You cannot gain a victory over a soul in this condition, and I shall affect her deliverance. Heaven will aid us, Dorothy. A louder roll of thunder was heard, followed by a forked flash of lightning. Provoke not the vengeance of the Prince of Darkness, said Mistress Nutter. I have no fear, replied Alice, and cling to me, Dorothy. No harm shall befall you. Vayspeedy! cried the voice. Let her go! cried Mistress Nutter to Alice, or you will rule this disobedience. Why should you interfere with my projects and bring ruin on yourself? I would save you. What a still obstinate! Nay, then, I will no longer show forbearance. Help me, sisters! Force the new witch from her. But beware, how you harm my child! At these words the troop gathered round the two girls, but Alice and only clasped her hands more tightly round Dorothy, while the latter, on whose brain the maddening potions still worked, laughed frantically at them. It was at this moment that Elizabeth Device, who had conceived a project of revenge, put it into execution. While near Dorothy she stamped, spat on the ground, and then cast a little mould over her, breathing in her ear. Thou art bewitched, bewitched by Alice and Device. Dorothy instantly struggled to free herself from Alice Oh, do not you strive against me, dear Dorothy! cried Alice, and remain with me, or you are lost. Hins off! set me free! shrieked Dorothy. You have bewitched me, and I heard it this moment. Do not believe these false suggestions! cried Alice. It is true! exclaimed all the other witches together. Alice and has bewitched you, and she will kill you. Shake her off! Shake her off! Away! cried Dorothy, mustering all her force. Away! But Alice and was still too strong for her, and in spite of her efforts at liberation, detained her. Thy patience is well nigh, exhausted, exclaimed the voice. Alice and cried Mistress Nutter imploringly, and again the witches gathered furiously round the two girls. Neil, Dorothy, Neil, whispered Alice, and, forcing her down, she fell on her knees beside her, exclaiming with uplifted hands, Gracious Heaven, deliver us! As the words were uttered, a fearful cry was heard, and the weird troupe fled away, screaming like elomant birds. The cauldron sank into the ground, the dense mist arose like a curtain, and the moon and stars shone brightly down upon the ruined pile. Alice and prayed long and fervently with clasped hands and closed eyes for deliverance from evil. When she looked round again, all was so calm, so beautiful, so holy in its rest, that she could scarcely believe in the recent fearful occurrences. Her hair and garments were damp with the dews of night, and at her feet lay Dorothy insensible. She tried to raise her, to revive her, but in vain. When at this moment footsteps were heard approaching, and the next moment Mistress Nutter, accompanied by Adam Whitworth, and some other serving men entered the choir. I see them, they are here! cried the lady, rushing forward. Heaven be praised, you have found the maddom! exclaimed the old steward, coming quickly after her. Oh, what an alarm you have given me, Harrison! said Mistress Nutter. What could induce you to go forth secretly at night in this way with Dorothy? I dreamt you were here, and missing you when I awoke, roused the house, and came in search of you. What is the matter with Dorothy? She has been frightened, I suppose. I will give her to breathe at this file. It will revive her. See, she opens her eyes. Dorothy looked round wildly for a moment, then, pointing at her finger at Allison, said, She has bewitched me! A poor thing! she rambles! observed Mistress Nutter to Adam Whitworth, who with the other serving men stared aghast at the accusation. She has been scared out of her senses by some fearful sight. Let her be conveyed quickly to my chamber, and I will see her cared for. The orders were obeyed. Dorothy was raised gently by the serving men. But she still kept pointing to Allison, and repeatedly exclaimed, She has bewitched me! The serving men shook their heads, and looked significantly at each other, while Mistress Nutter lingered to speak to her daughter. You look greatly disturbed, Allison, as if you had been visited by a nightmare in your sleep, and were still under its influence. Allison made no reply. A few hours tranquil sleep will restore you. Pursued Mistress Nutter, and you will forget your fears. You must not indulge these nocturnal ramblings again, for they may be attended with dangerous consequences. I may not have a second warning dream. Come to the house! And as Allison followed her along the garden path, she could not help asking herself, though with little hope in the question, if all she had witnessed was indeed nothing more than a troubled dream. End of Chapter 10 and of Book 1. Book 2 Chapter 1 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 2 Pendle Forest Chapter 1 Flint A lovely morning succeeded the strange and terrible night. Brightly shone the sun upon the fair Calder, as it binded along the green meads above the bridge, as it rushed rejoicingly over the weir, and pursued its rapid course through the broad plain below the abbey. A few white vapours hung upon the summit of Whaley-Nab, but the warm rays tinging them with gold and tipping them with fire, the treetops that pierced through them augured their speedy dispersion. So beautiful, so tranquil looked the old monastic feign, that none would have deemed its midnight rest had been broken by the impious rites of a foul troupe. The choir, where the unearthly screams and demon laughter had resounded, was now vocal with the melodies of the Blackbird, the Thrush, and other songsters of the Grove. Bells of dew glittered upon the bushes rooted in the walls, and upon the ivy-grown pillars, and jamming the countless spider's webs stretched from bow to bow, showed they were all unbroken. No traces were visible on the sod, where the unhallowed crew had danced their round, nor would any ashes left where the fire had burned and the cauldron had bubbled. The brass covered tombs of the abbots in the presbytery, looked as if a century had passed over them without disturbance, while the graves in the Cloister Cemetery obliterated, and only to be detected when a broken coffin or a moulding bone was turned up by the tiller of the ground, preserved their wanted appearance. The face of nature had received neither impress nor injury from the fantastic freaks and necromantic exhibitions of the witches. Everything looked as if it was left overnight, and the only footprints to be detected were those of the two girls, and of the party who came in quest for them. All else had passed by like a vision or a dream. The rooks cored loudly in the neighbouring trees, as if discussing the question of breakfast, and the jack-door's wheeled merrily round the tall spire, which sprang from the eastern end of the fane. Brightly shone the sun upon the noble timber empowering the mansion of the Ashitons, upon the ancient gateway, in the upper chamber of which Ned Huddleston, the porter, and the burly representative of Friar Tuck, was rubbing his sleepy eyes, preparatory to habit himself in his ordinary attire, and upon the wide courtyard, across which Nicholas was walking in the direction of the stables. Notwithstanding his excesses overnight, the squire was a stir, as he had declared he should be before daybreak, and a plunge into the caulder had cooled his feverish limbs and cured his racking headache, while a draught of ale set his stomach right. Still in modern parlance he looked rather seedy, and his recollection of the events of the previous night was somewhat confused. Aware he had committed many fooleries, he did not desire to investigate matters too closely, and only hoped he should not be reminded of them by Sir Ralph, or worse still by Parson Dewhurst. As to his poor, dear, uncomplaining wife, he never once troubled his head about her, feeling quite sure she would not abrade him. On his appearance in the courtyard the two noble bloodhounds and several lesser dogs came forward to greet him, and attended by this noisy pack he marched up to a groom who was rubbing down his horse at the stable door. Poor Robin! he cried to the steed, who nayed at his appearance. Poor Robin! he said, patting his neck affectionately. There is not thy match for speed or endurance, for fence or ditch, for beck or stone wall in the country. Half an hour on thy back will make all right with me, but I would rather take thee to Boland Forest and hunt the stag there, than go and perambulate the boundaries of the roughlyest states, with a rascally attorney, and wonder how the feller will be mounted. If y'all be spearing about, Mr. Botts, squire, observe the groom, I'll come tell you, is to our little Flint the Welshpony. Pysons, you don't say so, Peter, exclaimed Nicholas, laughing. He'll never be able to manage him. Flint's the wickedest and most wilful little brute I ever knew. We shall have Master Botts run away with him, or thrown into a moss pit, better give him something quieter. It's a Ralph's orders, replied Peter, and I'd earn a disobey him. But Flint's far steadier than when y'all seen him last, squire. But Darsail'd carry Master Botts willy-nuff if he'd done the mislead him. You think nothing of the sort, Peter, said Nicholas. You'll expect to see the little gentleman fly over the pony's head, and perhaps break his own at starting. But if Sir Ralph has ordered it, he must be abide by the consequences. I shan't interfere further. How goes the young galt you were breaking in? You should take care to show him to saddle in the manger. Let him spell it, and jingle the stirrups in his ears, for you put it on his back. Better ground for his first lessons could not be desired than the field below the Grange, near the Goulder. Sir Ralph was saying yesterday that the Roan mare had pricked her foot. You must wash the sore well with white wine and salt. Rub it with the ointment the farriers call Egypticum, and then put a bonnet-alt blaster, compounded of flax-hard, turpentine, isle and wax, made in the top of the oaf with ball-armonyak and vinegar. This is the best and quickest remedy, and recollect, Peter, that for a new-strain vinegar, ball-armonyak, whites of egg and bean-flower make the best salve. How goes on Sir Ralph's black-charger dragon? Brave oars, that Peter, and the only one in your master's oars stood to compare with my robin. The dragon, though of our courage and great swiftness, has not the strength and endurance of robin. Neither can he leap so well, while robin would almost clear the gold of Peter and make nothing of Smithy's brook near down them, and you know how wide that stream is. Now one's tried him at the Ribble at a narrow point, and if oars could have done it he would, but there was too much to expect. Oh, great deal oars, should say, squire. Replied the groom, opening his eyes to their widest extent. Well, Ribble, where y'all spake on, won't be twenty yards across if it be an inch, and no nag has ever worked to clear that, unless a witch were on his back. Don't unload the witches, Peter, said Nicholas. Ah, bad enough of them. But to come back to our stage, colour is a matter of taste, and a man must blaze his own eye with bay or grey, chestnuts, or a law-black, but don is my fancy. A good horse-bater should be clean-limbed, short-jointed, strong-oves out-ribbed, broad-chested, deep-necked, loose-strottled, thin-crested, lean-edded, full-eyed, and with wide nostrils. Of course, without these points would not be wrong, and robin has them all. Oh, shall we, as sure enough, squire? Replied Peter, regarding the animal with an approving eye, as Nicholas enumerated his merits. Boy, far may chose betwixt them, and young master Richard Dasherton's grand-gold in Merlin, our nose with our deck. Robbin, of course, said Nicholas. Nye, squire, it should be dother, replied the groom. Nye, nye, judge of us, Peter, rejoined Nicholas, shrugging his shoulders. Oh, maybe not, said the groom, but on band to spake truth. Ah, say, turn, Lomux is bringing out Merlin. We can put the dough-nag side by side, if you'll choose. There shall be put side by side in the field, Peter. That's the way to test their respective merits, returned Nicholas. And they won't remain long together, our warrant, nye. I offered to make a match for twenty pieces with master Richard, but he declined the offer. Arkie, Peter, break an egg in Robbin's mouth, before you put on his bridle. It strengthens the wind, and adds to horse's power of endurance. Do you understand? Well, quickly squire, replied the groom. By the mess that's a sacred worth knowing. Any more orders? Nye, replied Nicholas. We shall set out in an hour, or it may be sooner. Or some be ready, said Peter. And he added to himself as Nicholas moved away. Oh, deck, dumb Lomux, give us the egg to Merlin. And that'll make all fair. Well, if that John's to die there, Ossie's metal. As Nicholas returned to the house, he perceived to his dismay Sir Ralph and Parson Dewhurst standing upon the steps, and convinced from their grave looks that they were prepared to lecture him, he endeavoured to nerve himself for the infliction. Though to one an awkward odds, said the squire to himself, especially when out of the vantage ground, but I must bear some and make the best part circumstances will allow. I shall never be able to explain that mad dance with his old eighton. No one but Dick will believe me, and the chances are he won't support my story, but I must put on the ne'er of penitence, and soon to say in my present state it's not very difficult to assume. Thus pondering, with slow step, effectively humble demeanour, and surprisingly lengthened visage, he approached the pair who were waiting for him, and regarding him with severe looks. Thinking it the best plan to open the fire himself, Nicholas saluted them, and said, Give you a good day, Sir Ralph, and you too, worthy Mr Dewhurst. I scarcely expected to see you so early as stair-good sirs, but the morning is so bootiful to allow us to be sluggards. For my own part I've been away for hours, and have passed the time early in self-reproaches for my folly and sinfulness last night, as well as informing resolutions for self-amendment and better government in future. I hope you will adhere to those resolutions, then, Nicholas. Rejoin, Sir Ralph, sternly. For change of conduct is absolutely necessary, if you would maintain your character as a gentleman. I can make allowance for high animal spirits, and can excuse some license, though I do not approve of it, but I will not permit decorum to be outraged in my house, and suffer so ill an example to be set to my tenantry. Fortunately I was not present at the exhibition, said Dewhurst, but I am told you conducted yourself like one possessed, and committed such freaks as are rarely, if ever, acted by a rational being. I can offer no defence worthy, Sir, and you, my respected relative. Return, Nicholas, with the contrite air. Neither can you reprove me more strongly than I deserve, nor than I have bled myself. I allowed myself to be overcome by wine, and in that condition was undoubtedly guilty of follies I must ever regret. Amongst others I believe you stood upon your head, remarked Dewhurst. I am not aware of the circumstances, Reverend Sir, replied Nicholas, with difficulty repressing a smile, but as I certainly lost my head I may have stood upon it unconsciously, but I do recollect enough to make me heartily ashamed of myself, and determined to avoid all such excesses in future. In that case, Sir, rejoined Dewhurst, the occurrences of last night, though sufficiently discreditable to you will not be without profit, for I have observed about infinite regret that you are apt to indulge in immodernate potions, when under their influence to lose due command of yourself, and commit follies which your sober reason must condemn. At such times I scarcely recognise you, you speak with unbecoming levity, and even allow odes to escape your lips. It is true, Reverend Sir, said Nicholas, but there is a plague upon my tongue, it is an unruly member, forgive me, good Sir, but my brain is a little confused. I do not wonder from the grievous assaults made upon it last night, Nicholas, observed Sir Ralph, perhaps you are not aware that your crowning act was whisking wildly round the room by yourself like a frantic dervish. I was dancing with a salt-aten, said Nicholas, with whom, inquired Dewhurst in surprise, with a wicked Voteress, who has been dead nearly a couple of centuries, interposed to Ralph, and who, by her sinful life, merited the punishment she has said to have incurred. This delusion shows how dreadfully intoxicated you were, Nicholas, for the time you had quite lost your reason. I am sober enough now at all events, rejoined Nicholas, and I am convinced that he so did dance with me, nor will any argument reason me out of that belief. I am sorry to hear you say so, Nicholas, returned Sir Ralph, that you were under the impression at the time I can easily understand, but that you should persist in such a senseless and wicked notion is more than I can comprehend. I saw her with my own eyes as plainly as I see you, Sir Ralph, replied Nicholas warmly, that I declare upon my honour and conscience, and I also felt the pressure of her arms. Whether it may not have been the fiend in her lackness, I will not take upon me to declare. Indeed, I have some misgivings on the subject, but that a beautiful creature exactly remembering the Voteress danced with me I will ever maintain. If so, she was invisible to others, for I beheld her not, said Sir Ralph, and though I cannot yield credence to your explanation, yet granting it to be correct, I do not see how it mends your case. On the contrary, it only proves that Master Nicholas yielded to the snares of Satan, said Duhurst, shaking his head. I would recommend you long fasting and frequent prayer, my good Sir, and I shall prepare a lecture for your special edification, which I will propound to you on your return to Downham. And if it fails in effect, I will persevere with other godly discourses. With your aid, I trust to be set free, Reverend Sir, return Nicholas, but as I have already fasted two or three hours in prayer, I hope they may stand me in low of any present fasting, and induce you to omit the article of penance or postpone it to some future occasion, when I may be better able to perform it, for I am just now particularly hungry, and I am always better able to resist temptation with a full stomach than an empty one. As I find it displacing to Sir Ralph, I will not insist upon my visionary partner in the dance, at least until I am better able to substantiate the fact, and I shall listen to your lectures worthy, sir, with great delight, and I doubt not with equal benefit. But in the meantime, as Karl once must be supplied, and mundane matters attended to, I propose with our excellent host's permission that we proceed to breakfast. Sir Ralph made no answer, but ascended the steps, and was followed by Dewhurst heaving a deep sigh, and turning up the whites of his eyes, and by Nicholas, who felt his bosom eased of half its load, and secretly congratulated himself upon getting out of the scrape so easily. In the hall they found Richard Ascherton habited in a riding-dress, booted, spurred, and in all respects prepared for the expedition. There were such evident traces of anxiety and suffering about him that Sir Ralph questioned him as to the cause, and Richard replied that he had passed a most restless night. He did not add that he had been made acquainted by Adam Whitworth, with the midnight visit of the two girls to the conventional church, because he was well aware Sir Ralph would be greatly displeased by the circumstance, and because Mistress Nutter had expressed a wish that it should be kept secret. Sir Ralph, however, saw there was more upon his young relative's mind than he chose to confess, but he did not urge any further admission into his confidence. Meantime the party had been increased by the arrival of Master Potts, who was likewise equipped for the ride. The hour was too early, it might be for him, or he had not rested well like Richard, or had been troubled with bad dreams, but certainly he did not look very well, or in very good humour. He had slept at the Abbey, having been accommodated with the bed, after the sudden seizure which he attributed to the instrumentality of Mistress Nutter. The little attorney bowed of sequiously to Sir Ralph, who returned his salutation very stiffly, nor was he much better received by the rest of the company. At a sign from Sir Ralph, his guests then knelt down, and a prayer was uttered by the Divine, or rather a discourse, for it partook more of the latter character than the former. In the course of it, he took occasion to paint in strong colours the terrible consequences of intemperance, and Nicholas was obliged to endure a well-married lecture of half an hour's duration. But even Parson Dewhurst could not hold out forever, and to the relief of all his hearers, he at length brought this discourse to a close. Breakfast at this period was a much more substantial affair than a modern morning repast, and differed little from dinner or supper, except in respect to quantity. On the present occasion there were carbonados of fish and fowl, a cold chine, a huge pasty, a caper, neat stungs, sausages, botargos, and other matters as provocative a thirst, as sufficing to the appetite. Nicholas set to work bravely. Boiled trout, steaks, and a huge slice of venison pasty disappeared quickly before him, and he was not quite so sparing of the ale as seemed consistent with his previously expressed resolutions of temperance. In vain Parson Dewhurst filled the goblet with water and looked significantly at him. He would not take the hint, and turned a deaf ear to the admonitory cough of Soralph. He had little help from the others for Richard ate sparingly, and Master Potts made a very poor figure beside him. At length, having cleared his plate, emptied his cup, and wiped his lips, the squire arose and said he must bid adiorta his wife, and should then be ready to attend them. While he quitted the hall for this purpose, Mistress Nutter entered it. She looked paler than ever, and her eyes seemed larger, darker, and brighter. Nicholas shuddered slightly as she approached, and even Potts felt a thrill of apprehension pass through his frame. He scarcely indeed ventured a look at her, but he dreaded her mysterious power, and feared she could fathom the designs he secretly entertained against her, but she took no notice whatever of him. Acknowledging Soralph's salutation, she motioned Richard to follow her to the further end of the room. Your sister is very ill, Richard. She said, as the young man attended her, feverish and almost light-headed. Adam Whitworth has told you I know that she was imprudent enough in company with Ilesen to visit the ruins of the conventional church late last night, and she there sustained some fright which has produced a great shock upon her system. When found she was fainting, and though I have taken every care of her, she still continues much excited and rambles strangely. You will be surprised as well as grieved when I tell you that she charges Ilesen with having bewitched her. How, madam? cried Richard. Ilesen, bewitch her. It is impossible. You are right, Richard, replied Mistress Nutter. The thing is impossible, but the accusation will find easy credence among the superstitious household here, and may be highly prejudicial if not fatal to poor Ilesen. It is most unlucky she should have gone out in this way, for the circumstance cannot be explained, and in itself serves to throw suspicion upon her. I must see Dorothy before I go, said Richard. Perhaps I may be able to soothe her. It was for that end I came hither, replied Mistress Nutter, but I thought it well you should be prepared. Now, come with me. Upon this they left the hall together, and proceeded to the abbot's chamber, where Dorothy was lodged. Richard was greatly shocked at the sight of his sister, so utterly changed was she from the blithe being of yesterday, then so full of health and happiness. Her cheeks burnt with fever, her eyes were unnaturally bright, and her fair hair hung about her face in disorder. She kept fast hold of Ilesen, who stood beside her. Oh, Richard! she cried on seeing him. I am glad you'll come. You will persuade this girl to restore me to reason, to free me from the terrors that beset me. She can do so as she will. Calm yourself, dear sister, said Richard, gently endeavouring to free Ilesen from her grasp. No, do not take her from me, said Dorothy wildly. I am better when she's near me, much better. My brow does not throb so violently, and my limbs are not twisted so painfully. Do you know what ails me, Richard? You have caught cold from wandering out indiscreetly last night, said Richard. I am bewitched, rejoined Dorothy, in terms that pierced her brother's brain, bewitched by Ilesen device, by your love. She wishes to kill me, Richard, because she thinks I am in her way, but she will not let her do it. You are mistaken, dear Dorothy. She means you no harm, said Richard. Heaven knows how much I grieve for her, and how fondly I love her, exclaimed Ilesen tearfully. It is false, cried Dorothy. She will tell a different tale when you're gone. She is a witch, and you shall never marry her, Richard, never, never. Mistress Nutter, who stood at her little distance, anxiously observing what was passing, waved her hand several times towards the sufferer, but without effect. I have no influence over her. She muttered, she is really bewitched. I must find other means to quiden her. Though both greatly distressed, Ilesen and Richard redoubled their attentions to the poor sufferer. For a few moments she remained quiet, but with her eyes constantly fixed on Ilesen, and then said quickly and fiercely, I have been told if you scratch one who has bewitched you till you draw blood, you will be cured. I will plunge my nails into her flesh. I will not oppose you, replied Ilesen gently. Tell my flesh if you will. You should have my life's blood if it would cure you. But if the success of the experiment depends on my having bewitched you, it will assuredly fail. This is dreadful, interposed Richard. Leave her, Ilesen. I entreat of you. She will do you an injury. I care not, replied the young maid. I will stay by her till she voluntarily releases me. The almost vigorous fury with which Dorothy had seized upon the unresisting girl here suddenly deserted her, and sobbing hysterically she fell upon her neck. Oh, with what delight Ilesen pressed her to her bosom! Dorothy, dear Dorothy! she cried. Alison, dear Alison! responded Dorothy. Oh, how could I suspect you of any ill design against me? She is no witch, dear sister. Be assured of that, said Richard. Oh, no, no, I am quite sure she is not! cried Dorothy, kissing her affectionately. This change had been wrought by the low-breathed spells of Mistress Nutter. The access is over, she mentally ejaculated, but I must get him away before the fit returns. You had better go now, Richard, she added, allowed, and touching his arm. I will answer for your sister's restoration, and opiate will produce sleep, and, if possible, she shall return to Middleton to-day. If I go, Alison must go with me, said Dorothy. Very well, I will not thwart your desires, rejoined Mistress Nutter, and she made a sign to Richard to depart. The young man pressed his sister's hand, bade a tender farewell to Alison, and infinitely relieved by the improvement which had taken place in the former, and which he firmly believed would speedily lead to her entire restoration, descended to the entrance-hall, where he found Sir Ralph and Parson Dewhurst, who told him that Nicholas and Potts were in the courtyard and impatient to set out. Shouts of laughter saluted the ears of the trio as they descended the steps. The cause of the berement was speedily explained when they looked towards the stables and beheld Potts, struggling for mastery with a stout Welsh pony, who showed every disposition, by plunging, kicking, and rearing, to remove him from his seat, though without success, for the attorney was not quite such a contemptible horseman as might be imagined. A wicked-looking little fellow was flint, with a rough, rusty black coat, a thick tail that swept the ground, a mane to match, and an eye of mixed fire and cunning. When brought forth he had allowed Potts to mount him quietly enough, but no sooner was the attorney comfortably in position, than he was served with a notice of ejectment. Down went flint's head and up went his heels, while on the next instant he was rearing aloft, with his forefeet beating the air, so nearly perpendicular that the chances seemed in favour of his coming down on his back. Then he, worlds suddenly round, shook himself violently, threatened to roll over, performed antics of the most extraordinary kind, to the dismay of his rider, but to the infinite amusement of the spectators, who were ready to split their sides with laughter. Indeed, tears fairly streamed down the squire's cheeks. However, when Sir Ralph appeared it was thought desirable to put an end to the fun, and Peter the groom advanced to seize the rest of little animals' bridle, but eluding the grasp, flint started off at a full gallop, and accompanied by the two bloodhounds, careered round the courtyard as if running in a ring. Veinly did poor Potts tug at the bridle, flint having the bit firmly between his teeth defied his utmost efforts. Away he went with the hounds at his heels, as if, said Nicholas, the devil were behind him. Though annoyed and angry, Sir Ralph could not help laughing at the ridiculous scene, and even a smile crossed Parson Dewhurst's grave countenance, as flint and his rider scumpered madly past them. Sir Ralph called to the groom's, and attempts were instantly made to check the furious pony's career, but he baffled them all, swerving suddenly round when an endeavour was made to intercept him, leaping over any trifling obstacle, and occasionally charging anyone who stood in his path. What with the grooms running hither and thither, vociferating and swearing, the barking and springing of the hounds, the yelping of lesser dogs, and the screaming of poultry, the whole yard was in a state of uproar and confusion. Flint won't be possessed! cried Peter. I never seen him go on in this way before, and noticed Elizabeth devised near the stables last night, and I shouldn't have wondered if I bewitched him. No doubt on't, replied another groom. Ah, so ever we won't contraff the kitchen, or Sir Ralph will send us all about our business. Oh, I wish you contraffed the do-it-then, tum-lormax, replied Peter, but I'm verly blurred. Dang me, if I ever see such aigoo mad working madman there's! What's to be done, squire?' he added to Nicholas. Ah, the devil already knows, replied the latter, but it seems we must wait till the little rascal chose his to stop. This occurred sooner than was expected. Thinking possibly that he had done enough to induce Master Potts to give up all idea of riding him, Flint suddenly slackened his pace, and trotted as if nothing had happened to the stable door. But if he had formed any such notion as the above, he was deceived, for the attorney, who was quite as obstinate and willful as himself, and who through all his perils had managed to maintain his seat, was resolved not to abandon it, and positively refused to dismount when urged to do so by Nicholas and the grooms. He will go quietly enough now, I daresay, observed Potts, and if not, and if you will lend me a hunting whip, I will undertake the cure him of his tricks. Flint seemed to understand what was said, for he laid back his ears as if meditating more mischief, but being surrounded by the grooms, he deemed it advisable to postpone the effort to a more convenient opportunity. In compliance with his request, a heavy hunting whip was handed to Potts, and armed with this formidable weapon, the little attorney, quite longed for an opportunity of effacing his disgrace. Meanwhile, Sir Ralph had come up and ordered a steady horse out for him, but Master Potts adhered to his resolution, and Flint remaining perfectly quiet, the baronet let him have his own way. Soon after this, Nicholas and Richard having mounted their steeds, the party set forth. As they were passing through the gateway, which had been thrown wide open by Ned Huddleston, they were joined by Simon Sparshott, who had been engaged by Potts to attend him on the expedition in his capacity of Constable. Simon was mounted on a mule, and brought word that Master Roger Knowle begged that they would ride round by Reed Hall, where he would be ready to accompany them, as he wished to be present at the perambulation of the boundaries. Ascending to the arrangement, the party set forth in that direction, Richard and Nicholas riding a little in advance of the others. End of Chapter 1 Book 2 Chapter 2 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 2 Pendle Forest Chapter 2 Reed Hall The road taken by the party on Quitting Whaley led up the side of a hill, which, broken into picturesque inequalities and partially clothed with trees, sloped down to the very brink of the cauldron. Winding round the broad green plain, here to fore described, with the lovely knoll in the midst of it, and which formed, with the woody hills encircling it, a perfect amphitheatre, the river was ever an object of beauty, sometimes lost beneath overhanging boughs or high banks, a non-bursting forth where least expected, now rushing swiftly over its shallow and rocky bed, now subsiding into a smooth full current. The abbey and the village were screened from view by the lower part of the hill, which the horsemen were scaling, but the old bridge and a few cottages at the foot of Whaley Knab, with their thin blue smoke mounting into the pure morning air, gave life and interest to the picture. Hence, from base to summit, Whaley Knab stood revealed, and the verdant lawns opening out amidst the woods feathering its heights were fully discernable. Placed by nature as the guardian of this fair valley, the lofty eminence well became the post assigned to it. None of the belt of hills connected with it were so well wooded as their leader, nor so beautiful in form, while some of them were overtopped by the bleak fells of longridge, rising at a distance behind them. Nor were those exquisite contrasts wanting, which are only to be seen in full perfection when the day is freshest and the dew is still heavy on the grass. The near side of the hill was plunged in deep shade, thin, gorsy vapor hung on the stream beneath, while on the opposite heights, and where the great boulder stones were visible in the bed of the river, all were sparkling with sunshine. So enchanting was the prospect that, though perfectly familiar with it, the two foremost horsemen drew in the rain to contemplate it. High above them on a sand bank, through which their giant roots protruded, shot up two tall silver stemmed beech trees, forming with their newly open foliage a canopy of tenderest green. Farther on appeared a grove of oaks scarcely in leaf, and below were several fine sycamores, already green and unbracious, intermingled with elms, ashes and horse chestnuts, and overshadowing breaks covered with maples, alders and hazels. The other spaces among the trees were enlivened by patches of yellow flowering and unodorous gorse. Mixed with the warblings of innumerable feathered songsters were heard the cheering notes of the cuckoo, and the newly arrived swallows were seen chasing the flies along the plain, or skimming over the surface of the river. Already had Richard's depression yielded to the exhilarating freshness of the morning, and the same kindly influence produced a more salutary effect on Nicholas than Parson Dewhurst's lecture had been able to accomplish. The worthy squire was a true lover of nature, admiring her in all her forms, whether arrayed in pomp of wood and verger, as in the lovely landscape before him, or dreary and desolate, as in the heathy forest wastes they were about to traverse. While breathing the fresh morning air, inhaling the fragrance of the wildflowers, and listening to the warbling of the birds, he took a well-pleased survey of the scene, commencing with the bridge passing over Whaley Knab, and the mountainous circle conjoined with it, till his gaze settled on Morton Hall, the noble mansion finally situated on a shoulder of a hill beyond him, and commanding the entire valley. Well, I am not owner of Downham, he observed to Richard, I should wish to be master of Morton. And then, pointing to the green area below, he added, What a capital spot for a race! There we might try the speed of our nags for the 20 pieces I talked of yesterday, and the judges of the match, and those who chose to look on might station themselves on Young Knoll, which seems made for the express purpose. Three years ago I remember a fair was held upon that plain, and the foot races, the wrestling matches, and the various sports and pastimes of the rustics, viewed from the Knoll, formed the prettiest sight ever looked upon. But, pleasant as the prospect is, we must not tarry here all day. Before setting forward, he cast a glance towards Pendle Hill, which formed the most prominent object of view on the left, and lay, like a leviathan, basking in the sunshine. The vast mass rose up gradually, until, at its further extremity, it attained an altitude of more than 1800 feet above the sea. At the present moment, it was without a cloud, and the whole of its broad outline was distinctly visible. I love Pendle Hill, cried Nicholas enthusiastically, and from whatever side I view it, whether from this place, where I see it from end to end, from its lowest point to its highest, from Paddyham, where it frowns upon me, from Clithero, when it smiles, or from Downham, where it rises in full majesty before me, from all points and under all aspects, whether robed in mist or radiant with sunshine, I delight in it. Born beneath its giant shadow, I look upon it with filial regard. Some folks say Pendle Hill wants grandeur and sublimity, but there themselves must be wanting in taste. Its broad, round, smooth mass is better than the roughest, craggyest, shaggiest, and most shapely splintered mountain of them all. And then what a view it commands! Lancaster with its grey old castle on one hand, York with its red-front minster on the other, Irish sea in its wild coast, fell, forest, moor and valley, watered by the rebel larder, the caulder, and the lime. Rivers not to be matched for beauty, you recollect the old district, Engleborough, Pendle Hill and Penigent, are the highest hills between Scotland and Trent. This vouches for its height, but there are two other doggerel lines, still more to the purpose. Pendle Hill, Penigent and Engleborough, now are three such hills as you'll not find by seeking England thorough. With this opinion I quite agree, there is no hill in England like Pendle Hill. Every man to his taste squire observed pots, but to my mind, Pendle Hill has no other recommendation than its size. I think it a great brown, ugly, humpy mass without beauty of form or any striking character. I hate your bleak Lancashire Hills with heathy ranges on the top, fit only for the sustenance of a few poor half-starved sheep, and as to the view from them, it is little else than a continuous range of moors and dwarf forests. Highgate Hill is quite mountain enough for me, and Hampstead Heath wild enough for any civilised purpose. A veritable son of Corkain, muttered Nicholas contemptuously. Riding on and entering the Grove of Oaks, he lost sight of his favourite hill, though glimpses were occasionally caught through the trees of the lovely valley below. Soon afterwards the party turned off on the left, and presently arrived at a gate which admitted them to Reed Park. Five minutes canter over the springy turf, then brought them to the house. The manner of Reeve, or Reed, came into the possession of the Noel family in the time of Edward III, and extended on one side within a mile of Whaley, from which township it was divided by a deep woody ravine, taking its name from the little village of Sabden, and on the other stretched far into Pendle Forest. The hall was situated on an eminence, forming part of the Heights of Paddyham, and faced a wide valley watered by the cauldron, and consisting chiefly of barren tracts of moor and forest land, bounded by the high hills near Acrington and Rosendale. On the left some half-dozen miles off lay Burnley, and the greater part of the land in this direction, being unenclosed and thinly peopled, had a dark dreary look that served to enhance the green beauty of the well-cultivated district on the right. Behind the mansion, thick woods extended to the very confines of Pendle Forest, of which indeed they originally formed part, and here, if the course of the stream flowing through the gully of Sabden were followed, every variety of break, glen and dingle might be found. Reed Hall was a large and commodious mansion, forming with a centre and two advancing wings, three sides of a square, between which was a grass plot ornamented with a dial. The gardens were laid out in the taste of the time, with trim alleys and parterres, terraces and steps, stone statues and clipped ews. The house was kept up well and consistently by its owner, who lived like a country gentleman with a good estate, entertained his friends hospitably, but without any parade, and was never needlessly lavish in his expenditure unless, perhaps, in the instant of the large ostentatious pew erected by him in the parish church of Whaley, and which, considering he had a private chapel at home and maintained a domestic chaplain to do duty in it, seemed little required, and drew upon him the censure of the neighbouring gossips, who said there was more of pride than religion in his pew. With the chapel at the hall, a curious history was afterwards connected. Converted into a dining-room by a descendant of Roger Knowle, the apartment was unconsciously occupied by the planner of the alterations, before the plaster was thoroughly dried, in consequence of which he caught a severe cold, and died in the desecrated chamber, his fate being looked upon as a judgment. With many good qualities Roger Knowle was little light, his austere and sarcastic manner repelled his equals, and his harshness made him an object of dislike and dread among his inferior. Besides being the terror of all evildoers, he was a hard man in his dealings, though he endeavoured to be just and persuaded himself he was so. A year or two before, having been appointed sheriff of the county, he had discharged the important office with so much zeal and ability, as well as liberality, that he rose considerably in public estimation. He was during this period that Master Potts came under his notice, at Lancaster, and the little attorney's shrewdness gained him an excellent client in the owner of Reed. Roger Knowle was a widower, but his son, who resided with him, was married, and had a family, so that the hall was fully occupied. Roger Knowle was turned sixty, but he was still in the full vigour of mind and body, his temperate and active habits keeping him healthy, he was of a spare muscular frame, somewhat bent in the shoulders, and had very sharp features, keen grey eyes, a close mouth, and prominent chin. His hair was white as silver, but his eyebrows were still black and bushy. Seeing the party approach, the Lord of the Mansion came forth to meet them, and begged them to dismount for a moment and refresh themselves. Richard excused himself, but Nicholas sprang from his saddle, and Potts, though somewhat more slowly, imitated his example. An open door admitted them to the entrance hall, where a repast was spread, of which the host pressed his guests to partake, but Nicholas declined on the score of having just breakfasted, notwithstanding which he was easily prevailed upon to take a cup of ale. Leaving him to discuss it, Knowle led the attorney to a well furnished library, where he usually transacted his magisterial business, and held a few minutes private conference with him, after which they returned to Nicholas, and by this time the magistrate's own horse being brought round, the party mounted once more. The attorney regretted abandoning his seat, for Flint indulged him with another exhibition, somewhat similar to the first, though of less duration, for a vigorous application of the hunting whip brought the wrong-headed little animal to reason. Elated by the victory he had obtained over Flint, and anticipating a successful issue to the expedition, Master Potts was in excellent spirits, and found a great deal to admire in the domain of his honoured and singular good client. Though not very genuine, his admiration was deservedly bestowed. The portion of the park they were now traversing was extremely diversified and beautiful, with long sweeping lawns studded with fine trees, among which were many ancient thorns, now in full bloom, and richly senting the gale. Herds of deer were nipping the short grass, browsing the lower spray of the ashes, or couching amid the ferny hollows. It was now that Nicholas, who had been all a long anxious to try the speed of his horse, proposed to Richard a gallop towards a clump of trees about a mile off, and the young man ascending away they started. Master Potts started, too, for Flint did not like to be left behind, but the metal-sampony was soon distanced. For some time the two horses kept so closely together that it was difficult to say which would arrive at the goal first, but by and by Robin got ahead. Though at first indifferent to the issue of the race, the spirit of emulation soon seized upon Richard, and spurring Merlin, the noble animal sprang forward, and was once again by the side of his opponent. For a quarter of a mile the ground had been tolerably level and the sod firm, but they now approached a swamp, and in his eagerness Nicholas did not take sufficient precaution and got involved in it before he was aware. Richard was more fortunate, having kept on the right where the ground was hard, seeing Nicholas struggling out of the marshy soil, he would have stayed for him, but the latter bad him go on, saying he would soon be up with him, and he made good his words. Soon after this their course was interrupted by a brook, and both horses, having cleared it excellently, they kept well together again for a short time, when they neared a deep dike which lay between them and the clump of trees. On discrying it Richard pointed out a course to the left, but Nicholas held on unheeding the caution, fully expecting to see him break his neck, for the dike was of formidable width. Richard watched him with apprehension, but the squire gave him a reassuring nod, and went on. Neither horse nor man faltered, though failure would have been certain destruction to both. The wide trench now yawned before them, they were upon its edge, and without trusting himself to measure it with his eye, Nicholas clapped spurs into Robin's side. The brave horse sprang forward, and landed him safely on the opposite bank. Hallowing cheerfully, as soon as he could check his courser, the squire wheeled round, and rode back to look at the dike he had crossed. Its width was terrific, and fairly astounded him. Robin snorted loudly, as if proud of his achievement, and showed some disposition to return, but the squire was quite content with what he had done. The exploit afterwards became a theme of wonder throughout the country, and the spot was long afterwards pointed out as Squire Nicholas's leap, but there was not another horseman found daring enough to repeat the experiment. Richard had to make a considerable circuit to join his cousin, and while he was going round, Nicholas looked out for the others. In the distance he could see Roger Noel riding leisurely on, followed by Sparshot and a couple of grooms, who had come with their master from the hall, while midway, to his surprise, he perceived Flint galloping without a rider. A closer examination showed the squire what had happened. Like himself, Master Potts had unconsciously approached the swamp, and getting entangled in it was thrown head foremost into the slough, out of which he was now floundering, covered from head to foot with inky coloured slime. As soon as they were aware of the accident, the two grooms pushed forward, and one of them galloped after Flint, whom he succeeded at lasting catching, while the other, with difficulty preserving his countenance at the woeful plight of the attorney who looked as black as a negro, pointed out a cottage in the hollow, which belonged to one of the keepers, and offered to conduct him thither. Potts gladly assented, and soon gained the little tenement where he was being washed and rubbed down by a couple of stout winches when the rest of the party came up. It was impossible to help laughing at him. But Potts took the merriment in good part, and to show he was not disheartened by the misadventure, as soon as circumstances would permit, he mounted the unlucky pony, and the cavalcade set forward again.