The Lancashire Witches by William Harrison Ainsworth

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"I see them--they are here!" cried the lady, rushing forward.

"Heaven be praised you have found them, madam!" exclaimed the old
steward, coming quickly after her.

"Oh! what an alarm you have given me, Alizon," said Mistress Nutter.
"What could induce you to go forth secretly at night in this way with
Dorothy! I dreamed 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
phial. It will revive her. See, she opens her eyes."

Dorothy looked round wildly for a moment, and then pointing her finger
at Alizon, said--

"She has bewitched me."

"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 Alizon, 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, Alizon, as if you had been visited by a
nightmare in your sleep, and were still under its influence."

Alizon made no reply.

"A few hours' tranquil sleep will restore you," pursued Mistress Nutter,
"and you will forget your fears. You must not indulge in these nocturnal
rambles again, or they may be attended with dangerous consequences. I
may not have a second warning dream. Come to the house."

And, as Alizon 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 THE FIRST BOOK.

THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES.

BOOK THE SECOND.

Pendle Forest.

CHAPTER I.--FLINT.

A lovely morning succeeded the strange and terrible night. Brightly
shone the sun upon the fair Calder as it winded 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 Whalley Nab, but the warm rays tinging
them with gold, and tipping with fire the tree-tops that pierced through
them, augured their speedy dispersion. So beautiful, so tranquil, looked
the old monastic fane, that none would have deemed its midnight rest had
been broken by the impious rites of a foul troop. The choir, where the
unearthly scream and the 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 gemming the countless spiders' webs
stretched from bough to bough, showed they were all unbroken. No traces
were visible on the sod where the unhallowed crew had danced their
round; nor were any ashes left where the fire had burnt and the caldron
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 mouldering bone was turned up by the
tiller of the ground, preserved their wonted appearance. The face of
nature had received neither impress nor injury from the fantastic freaks
and necromantic exhibitions of the witches. Every thing looked as 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 of them. All else had
passed by like a vision or a dream. The rooks cawed loudly in the
neighbouring trees, as if discussing the question of breakfast, and the
jackdaws wheeled merrily round the tall spire, which sprang from the
eastern end of the fane.

Brightly shone the sun upon the noble timber embowering the mansion of
the Asshetons; upon the ancient gateway, in the upper chamber of which
Ned Huddlestone, the porter, and the burly representative of Friar Tuck,
was rubbing his sleepy eyes, preparatory to habiting himself in his
ordinary attire; and upon the wide court-yard, across which Nicholas was
walking in the direction of the stables. Notwithstanding his excesses
overnight, the squire was astir, as he had declared he should be, before
daybreak; and a plunge into the Calder 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 upbraid him. On his appearance in the
court-yard, the two noble blood-hounds 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 neighed at his approach. "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 Bowland Forest, and hunt the stag
there, than go and perambulate the boundaries of the Rough Lee estates
with a rascally attorney. I wonder how the fellow will be mounted."

"If yo be speering about Mester Potts, squoire," observed the groom, "ey
con tell ye. He's to ha' little Flint, the Welsh pony."

"Why, zounds, you don't say, 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 Potts run away
with, or thrown into a moss-pit. Better give him something quieter."

"It's Sir Roaph's orders," replied Peter, "an ey darna disobey 'em. Boh
Flint's far steadier than when yo seed him last, squoire. Ey dar say
he'll carry Mester Potts weel enough, if he dusna mislest him."

"You think nothing of the sort, Peter," said Nicholas. "You 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 abide by the
consequences. I sha'n't interfere further. How goes on the young colt
you were breaking in? You should take care to show him the saddle in the
manger, let him smell it, and jingle the stirrups in his ears, before
you put it on his back. Better ground for his first lessons could not be
desired than the field below the grange, near the Calder. 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 aegyptiacum, and then put upon it a hot plaster compounded
of flax hards, turpentine, oil and wax, bathing the top of the hoof with
bole armeniac and vinegar. This is the best and quickest remedy. And
recollect, Peter, that for a new strain, vinegar, bole armeniac, whites
of eggs, and bean-flour, make the best salve. How goes on Sir Ralph's
black charger, Dragon? A brave horse that, Peter, and the only one in
your master's whole stud to compare with my Robin! But Dragon, though of
high courage and great swiftness, has not the strength and endurance of
Robin--neither can he leap so well. Why, Robin would almost clear the
Calder, Peter, and makes nothing of Smithies Brook, near Downham, and
you know how wide that stream is. I once tried him at the Ribble, at a
narrow point, and if horse could have done it, he would--but it was too
much to expect."

"A great deal, ey should say, squoire," replied the groom, opening his
eyes to their widest extent. "Whoy, th' Ribble, where yo speak on, mun
be twenty yards across, if it be an inch; and no nag os ever wur bred
could clear that, onless a witch wur on his back."

"Don't allude to witches, Peter," said Nicholas. "I've had enough of
them. But to come back to our steeds. Colour is matter of taste, and a
man must please his own eye with bay or grey, chestnut, sorrel, or
black; but dun is my fancy. A good horse, Peter, should be clean-limbed,
short-jointed, strong-hoofed, out-ribbed, broad-chested, deep-necked,
loose-throttled, thin-crested, lean-headed, full-eyed, with wide
nostrils. A horse with half these points would not be wrong, and Robin
has them all."

"So he has, sure enough, squoire," replied Peter, regarding the animal
with an approving eye, as Nicholas enumerated his merits. "Boh, if ey
might choose betwixt him an yunk Mester Ruchot Assheton's grey gelding,
Merlin, ey knoas which ey'd tak."

"Robin, of course," said Nicholas.

"Nah, squoire, it should be t'other," replied the groom.

"You're no judge of a horse, Peter," rejoined Nicholas, shrugging his
shoulders.

"May be not," said the groom, "boh ey'm bound to speak truth. An see!
Tum Lomax is bringin' out Merlin. We con put th' two nags soide by
soide, if yo choose."

"They shall be put side by side in the field, Peter--that's the way to
test their respective merit," returned Nicholas, "and they won't remain
long together, I'll warrant you. I offered to make a match for twenty
pieces with Master Richard, but he declined the offer. Harkee, Peter,
break an egg in Robin's mouth before you put on his bridle. It
strengthens the wind, and adds to a horse's power of endurance. You
understand?"

"Parfitly, squoire," replied the groom. "By th' mess! that's a secret
worth knoain'. Onny more orders?"

"No," replied Nicholas. "We shall set out in an hour--or it may be
sooner."

"Aw shan be ready," said Peter. And he added to himself, as Nicholas
moved away, "Ey'st tak care Tum Lomax gies an egg to Merlin, an that'll
may aw fair, if they chance to try their osses' mettle."

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.

"Two to one are awkward odds," said the squire to himself, "especially
when they have the 'vantage ground. But I must face them, and make the
best fight circumstances will allow. I shall never be able to explain
that mad dance with Isole de Heton. No one but Dick will believe me, and
the chances are he will not support my story. But I must put on an air
of penitence, and sooth to say, in my present state, it is not very
difficult to assume."

Thus pondering, with slow step, affectedly 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 good-day, Sir Ralph, and you too, worthy Master Dewhurst. I
scarcely expected to see you so early astir, good sirs; but the morning
is too beautiful to allow us to be sluggards. For my own part I have
been awake for hours, and have passed the time wholly in self-reproaches
for my folly and sinfulness last night, as well as in forming
resolutions for self-amendment, and better governance in future."

"I hope you will adhere to those resolutions, then, Nicholas," rejoined
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 licence, 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,"
returned Nicholas, with a contrite air; "neither can you reprove me
more strongly than I deserve, nor than I upbraid 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 circumstance, 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 determine 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 to my infinite regret, that you are apt to indulge
in immoderate potations, and 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 oaths to escape your lips."

"It is too true, reverend sir," said Nicholas; "but, zounds!--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 Isole de Heton," said Nicholas.

"With whom?" inquired Dewhurst, in surprise.

"With a wicked votaress, who has been dead nearly a couple of
centuries," interposed Sir Ralph; "and who, by her sinful life, merited
the punishment she is 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 Isole did dance with me, nor will any arguments 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 likeness I will not take upon me to declare--and indeed I
have some misgivings on the subject; but that a beautiful creature,
exactly resembling the votaress, 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 Dewhurst, 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," returned
Nicholas; "but, as I have already passed two or three hours in prayer, I
hope they may stand me in lieu 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 am always better able to resist temptation with a full
stomach than an empty one. As I find it displeasing 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 carnal wants 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 Assheton 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 conventual 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 a bed after the sudden seizure which he attributed to the
instrumentality of Mistress Nutter. The little attorney bowed
obsequiously 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-merited lecture of half an
hour's duration. But even Parson Dewhurst could not hold out for ever,
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 carbonadoes
of fish and fowl, a cold chine, a huge pasty, a capon, neat's tongues,
sausages, botargos, and other matters as provocative of thirst as
sufficing to the appetite. Nicholas set to work bravely. Broiled 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 a goblet with water, and looked significantly at him. He
would not take the hint, and turned a deaf ear to the admonitory cough
of Sir Ralph. 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 adieu to 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, for 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 Sir Ralph'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 Alizon, to visit
the ruins of the conventual 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 Alizon
with having bewitched her."

"How, madam!" cried Richard. "Alizon 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 Alizon. 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 Alizon, who stood beside
her.

"Ah, Richard!" she cried on seeing him, "I am glad you are come. You
will persuade this girl to restore me to reason--to free me from the
terrors that beset me. She can do so if she will."

"Calm yourself, dear sister," said Richard, gently endeavouring to free
Alizon from her grasp.

"No, do not take her from me," said Dorothy, wildly; "I am better when
she is 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 tones that pierced her brother's
brain--"bewitched by Alizon Device--by your love--ha! ha! She wishes to
kill me, Richard, because she thinks I am in her way. But you 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 Alizon, tearfully.

"It is false!" cried Dorothy. "She will tell a different tale when you
are gone. She is a witch, and you shall never marry her,
Richard--never!--never!"

Mistress Nutter, who stood at a 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 quieten her."

Though both greatly distressed, Alizon and Richard redoubled their
attentions to the poor sufferer. For a few moments she remained quiet,
but with her eyes constantly fixed on Alizon, 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 in
her flesh."

"I will not oppose you," replied Alizon, gently; "tear 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, Alizon, 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 tigress 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 Alizon pressed her to her
bosom!

"Dorothy, dear Dorothy!" she cried.

"Alizon, dear Alizon!" 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--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
aloud, and touching his arm, "I will answer for your sister's
restoration. An opiate will produce sleep, and if possible, she shall
return to Middleton to-day."

"If I go, Alizon must go with me," said Dorothy. "Well, well, I will not
thwart your desires," rejoined Mistress Nutter. And she made a sign to
Richard to depart.