The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  A derisive laugh reached her ears. It proceeded from Mother Chattox, who had contrived to raise herself to her feet, and, tottering forward, now passed through the appalled circle.

  “Ay, thy term is out — thy soul is forfeited like mine — ha! ha!” And she fell to the ground.

  “Perhaps it may not be too late,” cried Mother Demdike, grasping the knife, and rushing towards Alizon.

  But at this moment a bright flame shot up from the beacon.

  Astonishment and terror seized the hag, and she uttered a loud cry, which was echoed by the rest of the crew.

  The flame mounted higher and higher, and burnt each moment more brightly, illumining the whole summit of the hill. By its light could be seen a band of men, some of whom were on horseback, speeding towards the place of meeting.

  Scared by the sight, the witches fled, but were turned by another band advancing from the opposite quarter. They then made towards the spot where their broomsticks were deposited, but ere they could reach it, a third party gained the summit of the hill at this precise point, and immediately started in pursuit of them.

  Meanwhile, a young man issuing from behind the beacon, flew towards Mistress Nutter and her daughter. The moment the flame burst forth, the spell cast over them by Mother Demdike was broken, and motion and speech restored.

  “Alizon!” exclaimed the young man, as he came up, “your trials are over. You are safe.”

  “Oh, Richard!” she replied, falling into his arms, “have we been preserved by you?”

  “I am a mere instrument in the hands of Heaven,” he replied.

  Mother Demdike made no attempt at flight with the rest of the witches, but remained for a few moments absorbed in contemplation of the flaming beacon. Her hand still grasped the murderous weapon she had raised against Alizon, but it had dropped to her side when the fire burst forth. At length she turned fiercely to Richard, and demanded —

  “Was it thou who kindled the beacon?”

  “It was!” replied the young man.

  “And who bade thee do it — who brought thee hither?” pursued the witch.

  “An enemy of thine, old woman!” replied Richard, “His vengeance has been slow in coming, but it has arrived at last.”

  “But who is he? I see him not!” rejoined Mother Demdike.

  “You will see him before yon flame expires,” said Richard. “I should have come to your assistance sooner, Alizon,” he continued, turning to her, “but I was forbidden. And I knew I should best ensure your safety by compliance with the injunctions I had received.”

  “Some guardian spirit must have interposed to preserve us,” replied Alizon; “for such only could have successfully combated with the evil beings from whom we have been delivered.”

  “Thy spirit is unable to preserve thee now!” cried Mother Demdike, aiming a deadly blow at her with the knife. But, fortunately, the attempt was foreseen by Richard, who caught her arm, and wrested the weapon from her.

  “Curses on thee, Richard Assheton!” cried the infuriated hag,— “and on thee too, Alizon Device, I cannot work ye the immediate ill I wish. I cannot make ye loathsome in one another’s eyes. I cannot maim your limbs, or blight your beauty. I cannot deliver you over to devilish possession. But I can bequeath you a legacy of hate. What I say will come to pass. Thou, Alizon, wilt never wed Richard Assheton — never! Vainly shall ye struggle with your destiny — vainly indulge hopes of happiness. Misery and despair, and an early grave, are in store for both of you. He shall be to you your worst enemy, and you shall be to him destruction. Think of the witch’s prediction and tremble, and may her deadliest curse rest upon your heads.”

  “Oh, Richard!” exclaimed Alizon, who would have sunk to the ground if he had not sustained her. “Why did you not prevent this terrible malediction?”

  “He could not,” replied Mother Demdike, with a laugh of exultation; “it shall work, and thy doom shall be accomplished. And now to make an end of old Chattox, and then they may take me where they please.”

  And she was approaching her old enemy with the intention of putting her threat into execution, when James Device, who appeared to start from the ground, rushed swiftly towards her.

  “What art thou doing here, Jem?” cried the hag, regarding him with angry surprise. “Dost thou not see we are surrounded by enemies. I cannot escape them — but thou art young and active. Away with thee!”

  “Not without yo, granny,” replied Jem. “Ey ha’ run os fast os ey could to help yo. Stick fast howld on me,” he added, snatching her up in his arms, “an ey’n bring yo clear off yet.”

  And he set off at a rapid pace with his burthen, Richard being too much occupied with Alizon to oppose him.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XVII. — HOW THE BEACON FIRE WAS EXTINGUISHED.

  Soon after this, Nicholas Assheton, attended by two or three men, came up, and asked whither the old witch had flown.

  Mistress Nutter pointed out the course taken by the fugitive, who had run towards the northern extremity of the hill, down the sides of which he had already plunged.

  “She has been carried off by her grandson, Jem Device,” said Mistress Nutter; “be quick, or you will lose her.”

  “Ay, be quick — be quick!” added Mother Chattox. “Yonder they went, to the back of the beacon.”

  Casting a look at the wretched speaker, and finding she was too grievously wounded to be able to move, Nicholas bestowed no further thought upon her, but set off with his companions in the direction pointed out. He speedily arrived at the edge of the hill, and, looking down it, sought in vain for any appearance of the fugitives. The sides were here steep and shelving, and some hundred yards lower down were broken into ridges, behind one of which it was possible the old witch and her grandson might be concealed; so, without a moment’s hesitation, the squire descended, and began to search about in the hollows, scrambling over the loose stones, or sliding down for some paces with the uncertain boggy soil, when he fancied he heard a plaintive cry. He looked around, but could see no one. The whole side of the mountain was lighted up by the fire from the beacon, which, instead of diminishing, burnt with increased ardour, so that every object was as easily to be discerned as in the day-time; but, notwithstanding this, he could not detect whence the sound proceeded. It was repeated, but more faintly than before, and Nicholas almost persuaded himself it was the voice of Potts calling for help. Motioning to his followers, who were engaged in the search like himself, to keep still, the squire listened intently, and again caught the sound, being this time convinced it arose from the ground. Was it possible the unfortunate attorney had been buried alive? Or had he been thrust into some hole, and a stone placed over it, which he found it impossible to remove? The latter idea seemed the more probable, and Nicholas was guided by a feeble repetition of the noise towards a large fragment of rock, which, on examination, had evidently been rolled from a point immediately over the mouth of a hollow. The squire instantly set himself to work to dislodge the ponderous stone, and, aided by two of his men, who lent their broad shoulders to the task, quickly accomplished his object, disclosing what appeared to be the mouth of a cavernous recess. From out of this, as soon as the stone was removed, popped the head of Master Potts, and Nicholas, bidding him be of good cheer, laid hold of him to draw him forth, as he seemed to have some difficulty in extricating himself, when the attorney cried out —

  “Do not pull so hard, squire! That accursed Jem Device has got hold of my legs. Not so hard, sir, I entreat.”

  “Bid him let go,” said Nicholas, unable to refrain from laughing, “or we will unearth him from his badger’s hole.”

  “He pays no heed to what I say to him,” cried Potts. “Oh, dear! oh, dear! he is dragging me down again!”

  And, as he spoke, the attorney, notwithstanding all Nicholas’s efforts to restrain him, was pulled down into the hole. The squire was at a loss what to do, and was considering whether he should resort to the tedious process of digging him out, when a scramb
ling noise was heard, and the captive’s head once more appeared above ground.

  “Are you coming out now?” asked Nicholas.

  “Alas, no!” replied the attorney, “unless you will make terms with the rascal. He declares he will strangle me, if you do not promise to set him and his grandmother free.”

  “Is Mother Demdike with him?” asked Nicholas.

  “To be sure,” replied Potts; “and we are as badly off for room as three foxes in a hole.”

  “And there is no other outlet said the squire?”

  “I conclude not,” replied the attorney. “I groped about like a mole when I was first thrust into the cavern by Jem Device, but I could find no means of exit. The entrance was blocked up by the great stone which you had some difficulty in moving, but which Jem could shift at will; for he pushed it aside in a moment, and brought it back to its place, when he returned just now with the old hag; but probably that was effected by witchcraft.”

  “Most likely,” said Nicholas, “But for your being in it, we would stop up this hole, and bury the two wretches alive.”

  “Get me out first, good Master Nicholas, I implore of you, and then do what you please,” cried Potts. “Jem is tugging at my legs as if he would pull them off.”

  “We will try who is strongest,” said Nicholas, again seizing hold of Potts by the shoulders.

  “Oh, dear! oh, dear! I can’t bear it — let go!” shrieked the attorney. “I shall be stretched to twice my natural length. My joints are starting from their sockets, my legs are coming off — oh! oh!”

  “Lend a hand here, one of you,” cried Nicholas to the men; “we’ll have him out, whatever be the consequence.”

  “But I won’t come!” roared Potts. “You have no right to use me thus. Torture! oh! oh! my loins are ruptured — my back is breaking — I am a dead man. — The hag has got hold of my right leg, while Jem is tugging with all his force at the left.”

  “Pull away!” cried Nicholas; “he is coming.”

  “My legs are off,” yelled Potts, as he was plucked suddenly forth, with a jerk that threw the squire and his assistants on their backs. “I shall never be able to walk more. No, Heaven be praised!” he added, looking down on his lower limbs, “I have only lost my boots.”

  “Never mind it, then,” cried Nicholas; “but thank your stars you are above ground once more. Hark’ee, Jem!” he continued, shouting down the hole; “If you don’t come forth at once, and bring Mother Demdike with you, we’ll close up the mouth of this hole in such a way that you sha’n’t require another grave. D’ye hear?”

  “Yeigh,” replied Jem, his voice coming hoarsely and hollowly up like the accents of a ghost. “Am ey to go free if ey comply?”

  “Certainly not,” replied the squire. “You have a choice between this hole and the hangman’s cord at Lancaster, that is all. In either case you will die by suffocation. But be quick — we have wasted time enough already with you.”

  “Then if that’s aw yo’ll do fo’ me, squire, eyn e’en stay wheere ey am,” rejoined Jem.

  “Very well,” replied Nicholas. “Here, my man, stop up this hole with earth and stones. Master Potts, you will lend a hand to the task.”

  “Readily, sir,” replied the attorney, “though I shall lose the pleasure I had anticipated of seeing that old carrion crow roasted alive.”

  “Stay a bit, squoire,” roared Jem, as preparations were actively made for carrying Nicholas’s orders into execution. “Stay a bit, an ey’n cum owt, an bring t’ owd woman wi’ me.”

  “I thought you’d change your mind,” replied Nicholas, laughing. “Be upon your guard,” he added, in a low tone to the others, “and seize him the moment he appears.”

  But Jem evidently found it no easy matter to perform his promise, for stifled shrieks and other noises proclaimed that a desperate struggle was going on between him and his grandmother.

  “Aha!” exclaimed Nicholas, placing his ear to the hole. “The old hag is unwilling to come forth, and spits and scratches like a cat-a-mountain, while Jem gripes her like a terrier. It is a hard tussle between them, but he is getting the better of it, and is pushing her forth. Now look out.”

  And as he spoke, Mother Demdike’s terrible head protruded from the ground, and, despite of the execrations she poured forth upon her enemies, she was instantly seized by them, drawn out of the cavern, and secured. While the men were thus engaged, and while Nicholas’s attention was for an instant diverted, Jem bounded forth as suddenly as a wolf from his lair, and, dashing aside all opposition, plunged down the hill.

  “It is useless to pursue him,” said Nicholas. “He will not escape. The whole country will be roused by the beacon fire, and hue and cry shall be made after him.”

  “Right!” exclaimed Potts; “and now let some one creep into that cavern, and bring out my boots, and then I shall be in a better condition to attend you.”

  The request being complied with, and the attorney being once more equipped for walking, the party climbed the hill-side, and, bringing Mother Demdike with them, shaped their course towards the beacon.

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

  Scarcely had the squire quitted Mistress Nutter than Sir Ralph Assheton rode up to her.

  “Why do you loiter here, madam?” he said, in a stern tone, somewhat tempered by sorrow. “I have held back to give you an opportunity of escape. The hill is invested by your enemies. On that side Roger Nowell is advancing, and on this Sir Thomas Metcalfe and his followers. You may possibly effect a retreat in the opposite direction, but not a moment must be lost.”

  “I will go with you,” said Alizon.

  “No, no,” interposed Richard. “You have not strength for the effort, and will only retard her.”

  “I thank you for your devotion, my child,” said Mistress Nutter, with a look of grateful tenderness; “but it is unneeded. I have no intention of flying. I shall surrender myself into the hands of justice.”

  “Do not mistake the matter, madam,” said Sir Ralph, “and delude yourself with the notion that either your rank or wealth will screen you from punishment. Your guilt is too clearly established to allow you a chance of escape, and, though I myself am acting wrongfully in counselling flight to you, I am led to do so from the friendship once subsisting between us, and the relationship which, unfortunately, I cannot destroy.”

  “It is you who are mistaken, not I, Sir Ralph,” replied Mistress Nutter. “I have no thought of turning aside the sword of justice, but shall court its sharpest edge, hoping by a full avowal of my offences, in some degree to atone for them. My only regret is, that I shall leave my child unprotected, and that my fate will bring dishonour upon her.”

  “Oh, think not of me, dear mother!” cried Alizon, “but persist unhesitatingly in the course you have laid down. Far rather would I see you act thus — far rather hear the sentiments you have uttered, even though they may be attended by the saddest, consequences, than behold you in your former proud position, and impenitent. Think not of me, then. Or, rather, think only how I rejoice that your eyes are at length opened, and that you have cast off the bonds of iniquity. I can now pray for you with the full hope that my intercessions will prevail, and in parting with you in this world shall be sustained by the conviction that we shall meet in eternal happiness hereafter.”

  Mistress Nutter threw her arms about her daughter’s neck, and they mingled their tears together, Sir Ralph Assheton was much moved.

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

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

  “Ah! it is too late,” exclaimed the knight; “here come Nowell and Metcalfe. The poor lady’s firmness will be severely tested.”

  The next moment the magistrate and the knight came up, with such of their attendants as were not engaged in pursuing the witches, several of whom had already been captured. On seeing Mistress Nutter, Sir Thomas Metcalfe sprang from his horse
, and would have seized her, but Sir Ralph interposed, saying “She has surrendered herself to me. I will be answerable for her safe custody.”

  “Your pardon, Sir Ralph,” observed Nowell; “the arrest must be formally made, and by a constable. Sparshot, execute your warrant.”

  Upon this, the official, leaping from his horse, displayed his staff and a piece of parchment to Mistress Nutter, telling her she was his prisoner.

  The lady bowed her head.

  “Shan ey tee her hands, yer warship?” demanded the constable of the magistrate.

  “On no account, fellow,” interposed Sir Ralph. “I will have no indignity offered her. I have already said I will be responsible for her.”

  “You will recollect she is arrested for witchcraft, Sir Ralph,” observed Nowell.

  “She shall answer to the charges brought against her. I pledge myself to that,” replied Sir Ralph.

  “And by a full confession,” said Mistress Nutter. “You may pledge yourself to that also, Sir Ralph.”

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

  “I shall not forget it,” said Sir Thomas Metcalfe.

  “Nor I — nor I!” cried Sparshot, and two or three others of the attendants.

  “This girl is my prisoner,” said Sir Thomas Metcalfe, dismounting, and advancing towards Alizon, “She is a witch, as well as the rest.”

  “It is false,” cried Richard! “and if you attempt to lay hands upon her I will strike you to the earth.”

  “‘Sdeath!” exclaimed Metcalfe, drawing his sword, “I will not let this insolence pass unpunished. I have other affronts to chastise. Stand aside, or I will cut your throat.”

  “Hold, Sir Thomas,” cried Sir Ralph Assheton, authoritatively. “Settle your quarrels hereafter, if you have any to adjust; but I will have no fighting now. Alizon is no witch. You are well aware that she was about to be impiously and cruelly sacrificed by Mother Demdike, and her rescue was the main object of our coming hither.”