The Lancashire Witches by William Harrison Ainsworth

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"Nay, now you will make me weep again," cried Dorothy, her tears flowing
afresh. "But I will not allow you to indulge such gloomy ideas, Richard.
If I seriously thought Mistress Nutter likely to occasion all this fresh
mischief, I would cause her to be delivered up to justice, and hanged
out of the way. You may look cross at me, but I would. What is an old
witch like her, compared with two young handsome persons, dying for love
of each other, and yet not able to marry on her account?"

"Dorothy, Dorothy, you must put some restraint on your tongue," said
Richard; "you give it sadly too much licence. You forget it is the wish
of the unhappy lady you refer to, to expiate her offences at the stake,
and that it is only out of consideration to her daughter that she has
been induced to remain in concealment. What will be the issue of it all,
I dare scarcely conjecture. Wo to her, I fear! Wo to Alizon! Wo to me!"

"Alas! Richard, that you should link yourself to her fate!" exclaimed
Dorothy, half mournfully, half reproachfully.

"I cannot help it," he replied. "It is my destiny--a deplorable destiny,
if you will--but not to be avoided. That Mistress Nutter will escape the
consequences of her crimes, I can scarcely believe. Her penitence is
profound and sincere, and that is a great consolation; for I trust she
will not perish, body and soul. I should wish her to have some spiritual
assistance, but this Nicholas will not for the present permit, alleging
that no churchman would consent to screen her from justice when he
became aware, as he must by her confession, of the nature and magnitude
of her offences. This may be true; but when the wretches who have been
leagued with her in iniquity are disposed of, the reason will no longer
exist, and I will see that she is cared for. But, apart from her mother,
I have another source of anxiety respecting Alizon. It is this: orders
have been this day given for the arrest of Elizabeth Device and her
daughter, Jennet, and Alizon will be the chief witness against them.
This will be a great trouble to her."

"Undoubtedly," rejoined Dorothy, with much concern. "But can it not be
avoided?"

"I fear not," said Richard, "and I blamed Nicholas much for his
precipitancy in giving the order; but he replied he had been held up
latterly as a favourer of witches, and must endeavour to redeem his
character by a display of severity. Were it not for Alizon, I should
rejoice that the noxious brood should at last be utterly exterminated."

"And so should I, in good sooth," responded Dorothy. "As to Elizabeth
Device, she is bad enough for any thing, and capable of almost any
mischief: but she is nothing to Jennet, who, I am persuaded, would
become a second Mother Demdike if her career were not cut short. You
have seen the child, and know what an ill-favoured, deformed little
creature she is, with round high shoulders, eyes set strangely in her
face, and such a malicious expression--oh! I shudder to think of it."

And she covered her face with her hands, as if to shut out some
unpleasant object.

"Poor, predestined child of sin, branded by nature from her birth, and
charged with wicked passions, as the snake with venom, I cannot but pity
her!" exclaimed Richard. "Compassion is entirely thrown away," he added,
with a sudden change of manner, and as if trying to shake off a
weakness. "The poisonous fruit must, however, be nipped in the bud.
Better she should perish now, even though comparatively guiltless, than
hereafter with a soul stained with crime, like her mother."

As he concluded, he put his hand quickly to his side, for a sharp and
sudden pang shot through his heart; and so acute was the pain, that,
after struggling against it for a moment, he groaned deeply, and would
have fallen, if his sister, greatly alarmed, and with difficulty
repressing a scream, had not lent him support.

Neither of them were aware of the presence of a little girl, who had
approached the place where they were sitting, with footsteps so light
that the grass scarcely seemed to bend beneath them, and who, ensconcing
herself behind the tree, drank in their discourse with eager ears. She
was attended by a large black cat, who, climbing the tree, placed
himself on a bough above her.

During the latter part of the conversation, and when it turned upon the
arrest of Jennet and her mother, the expression of the child's
countenance, malicious enough to begin with, became desperately
malignant, and she was only restrained by certain signs from the cat,
which appeared to be intelligible to her, from some act of mischief. At
last even this failed, and before the animal could descend and check
her, she crept round the bole of the tree, so as to bring herself close
to Richard, and muttering a spell, made one or two passes behind his
back, touched him with the point of her finger, but so lightly that he
was unconscious of the pressure, and then hastily retreated with the
cat, who glared furiously at her from his flaming orbs.

It was at the moment she touched him that Richard felt as if an arrow
were quivering in his heart.

Poor Dorothy's alarm was so great that she could not even scream for
assistance, and she feared, if she quitted her brother, he would expire
before her return; but the agony, though great, was speedily over, and
as the spasm ceased, he looked up, and, with a faint smile, strove to
re-assure her.

"Do not be alarmed," he said; "it is nothing--a momentary
faintness--that is all."

But the damp upon his brow, and the deathly hue of his cheek,
contradicted the assertion, and showed how much he had endured. "It was
more than momentary faintness, dear Richard," replied Dorothy. "It was a
frightful seizure--so frightful that I almost feared; but no matter--you
know I am easily alarmed. Thank God! here is some colour coming into
your cheeks. You are better now, I see. Lean upon me, and let us return
to the house."

"I can walk unassisted," said Richard, rising with an effort.

"Do not despise my feeble aid," replied Dorothy, taking his arm under
her own. "You will be quite well soon."

"I am quite well now," said Richard, halting after he had advanced a few
paces, "The attack is altogether passed. Do you not see Alizon coming
towards us? Not a word of this sudden seizure to her. Do you mind,
Dorothy?"

Alizon was soon close behind them, and though, in obedience to Richard's
injunctions, no allusion was made to his recent illness, she at once
perceived he was suffering greatly, and with much solicitude inquired
into the cause. Richard avoided giving a direct answer, and, immediately
entering upon Nicholas's visit, tried to divert her attention from
himself.

So great a change had been wrought in Alizon's appearance and manner
during the last few weeks, that she could scarcely be recognised. Still
beautiful as ever, her beauty had lost its earthly character, and had
become in the highest degree spiritualised and refined. Humility of
deportment and resignation of look, blended with an expression of
religious fervour, gave her the appearance of one of the early martyrs.
Unremitting ardour in the pursuance of her devotional exercises by day,
and long vigils at night, had worn down her frame, and robbed it of some
of its grace and fulness of outline; but this attenuation had a charm of
its own, and gave a touching interest to her figure, which was wanting
before. If her check was thinner and paler, her eyes looked larger and
brighter, and more akin to the stars in splendour; and if she appeared
less childlike, less joyous, less free from care, the want of these
qualities was more than counterbalanced by increased gentleness,
resignation, and serenity.

Deeply interested in all Richard told her of her mother, she was greatly
concerned to hear of the intended arrest of Elizabeth and Jennet Device,
especially the latter. For this unhappy and misguided child she had once
entertained the affection of a sister, and it could not but be a source
of grief to her to reflect upon her probable fate.

Little more passed between them, for Richard, feeling his strength again
fail him, was anxious to reach the house, and Dorothy was quite unequal
to conversation. They parted at the door, and as Alizon, after taking
leave of her friends, turned to continue her walk in the garden, Richard
staggered into the entrance-hall, and sank upon a chair.

Alizon desired to be alone, for she did not wish to have a witness to
the grief that overpowered her, and which, when she had gained a retired
part of the garden, where she supposed herself free from all
observation, found relief in a flood of tears.

For some minutes she was a prey to violent and irrepressible emotion,
and had scarcely regained a show of composure, when she heard herself
addressed, as she thought, in the voice of the very child whose unlucky
fate she was deploring. Looking round in surprise, and seeing no one,
she began to think fancy must have cheated her, when a low malicious
laugh, arising from a shrubbery near her, convinced her that Jennet was
hidden there. And the next moment the little girl stepped from out the
trees.

Alizon's first impulse was to catch the child in her arms, and press her
to her bosom; but there was something in Jennet's look that deterred
her, and so embarrassed her, that she was unable to bestow upon her the
ordinary greeting of affection, or even approach her.

Jennet seemed to enjoy her confusion, and laughed spitefully.

"Yo dunna seem ower glad to see me, sister Alizon," said Jennet, at
length.

"_Sister_ Alizon!" There was something in the term that now jarred upon
the young girl's ears, but she strove to conquer the feeling, as
unworthy of her.

"She was once my sister," she thought, "and shall be so still. I will
save her, if it be possible." "Jennet," she added aloud, "I know not
what chance brings you here, and though I may not give you the welcome
you expect, I am rejoiced to see you, because I may be the means of
serving you. Do not be alarmed at what I am going to tell you. The
danger I hope is passed, or at all events may be avoided. Your liberty
is threatened, and at the very moment I see you here I was lamenting
your supposed condition as a prisoner."

Jennet laughed louder and more spitefully than before, and looked so
like a little fury that Alizon's blood ran cold at the sight of it.

"Ey knoa it aw, sister Alizon," she cried, "an that is why ey ha cum'd
here. Brother Jem is a pris'ner i' Whalley Abbey. Mother is a pris'ner
theere, too. An ey should ha kept em company, if Tib hadna brought me
off. Now, listen to me, Alizon, fo' this is my bus'ness wi' yo. Yo mun
get mother an Jem out to-neet--eigh, to-neet. Yo con do it, if yo win.
An onless yo do--boh ey winna threaten till ey get yer answer."

"How am I to set them free?" asked Alizon, greatly alarmed.

"Yo need only say the word to young Ruchot Assheton, an the job's done,"
replied Jennet.

"I refuse--positively refuse to do so!" rejoined Alizon, indignantly.

"Varry weel," cried Jennet, with a look of concentrated malice and fury;
"then tak the consequences. They win be ta'en to Lonkester Castle, an
lose their lives theere. Bo ye shan go, too--ay, an be brunt os a
witch--a witch--d'ye mark, wench? eh!"

"I defy your malice!" cried Alizon.

"Defy me!" screamed Jennet. "What, ho! Tib!"

And at the call the huge black cat sprang from out the shrubbery.

"Tear her flesh from her bones!" cried the little girl, pointing to
Alizon, and stamping furiously on the ground.

Tib erected his back, and glared like a tiger, but he seemed unwilling
or unable to obey the order.

Alizon, who had completely recovered her courage, regarded him fixedly,
and apparently without terror.

"Whoy dusna seize her, an tear her i' pieces?" cried the infuriated
child.

"He dares not--he has no power over me," said Alizon. "Oh, Jennet! cast
him off. Your wicked agent appears to befriend you now, but he will lead
you to certain destruction. Come with me, and I will save you."

"Off!" cried Jennet, repelling her with furious gestures. "Off! ey winna
ge wi' ye. Ey winna be saved, os yo term it. Ey hate yo more than ever,
an wad strike yo dead at my feet, if ey could. Boh as ey conna do it, ey
win find some other means o' injurin' ye. Soh look to yersel, proud
ledy--look to yersel? Ey ha already smitten you in a place where ye win
feel it sore, an ey win repeat the blow. Ey now leave yo, boh we shan
meet again. Come along, Tib!"

So saying, she sprang into the shrubbery, followed by the cat, leaving
Alizon appalled by her frightful malignity.

[Illustration: ALIZON DEFIES JENNET.]

CHAPTER IV.--THE GORGE OF CLIVIGER.

The sun had already set as Nicholas Assheton reached Todmorden, then a
very small village indeed, and alighting at a little inn near the
church, found the ale so good, and so many boon companions assembled to
discuss it, that he would fain have tarried with them for an hour or so;
but prudence, for once, getting the better of inclination, and
suggesting that he had fifteen or sixteen miles still to ride, over a
rough and lonely road, part of which lay through the gorge of Cliviger,
a long and solitary pass among the English Apennines, and, moreover, had
a large sum of money about him, he tore himself away by a great effort.

On quitting the smiling valley of Todmorden, and drawing near the
dangerous defile before mentioned, some misgivings crossed him, and he
almost reproached himself with foolhardiness in venturing within it at
such an hour, and wholly unattended. Several recent cases of robbery,
some of them attended by murder, had occurred within the pass; and these
now occurred so forcibly to the squire, that he was half inclined to
ride back to Todmorden, and engage two or three of the topers he had
left at the inn to serve him as an escort as far as Burnley, but he
dismissed the idea almost as soon as formed, and, casting one look at
the green and woody slopes around him, struck spurs into Robin, and
dashed into the gorge.

On the right towered a precipice, on the bare crest of which stood a
heap of stones piled like a column--the remains, probably, of a cairn.
On this commanding point Nicholas perceived a female figure, dilated to
gigantic proportions against the sky, who, as far as he could
distinguish, seemed watching him, and making signs to him, apparently to
go back; but he paid little regard to them, and soon afterwards lost
sight of her.

Precipitous and almost inaccessible rocks, of every variety of form and
hue; some springing perpendicularly up like the spire of a church,
others running along in broken ridges, or presenting the appearance of
high embattled walls; here riven into deep gullies, there opening into
wild savage glens, fit spots for robber ambuscade; now presenting a fair
smooth surface, now jagged, shattered, shelving, roughened with
brushwood; sometimes bleached and hoary, as in the case of the pinnacled
crag called the White Kirk; sometimes green with moss or grey with
lichen; sometimes, though but rarely, shaded with timber, as in the
approach to the cavern named the Earl's Bower; but generally bold and
naked, and sombre in tint as the colours employed by the savage Rosa.
Such were the distinguishing features of the gorge of Cliviger when
Nicholas traversed it. Now the high embankments and mighty arches of a
railway fill up its recesses and span its gullies; the roar of the
engine is heard where the cry of the bird of prey alone resounded; and
clouds of steam usurp the place of the mist-wreaths on its crags.

Formerly, the high cliffs abounded with hawks; the rocks echoed with
their yells and screeches, and the spots adjoining their nests
resembled, in the words of the historian of the district, Whitaker,
"little charnel-houses for the bones of game." Formerly, also, on some
inaccessible point built the rock-eagle, and reared its brood from year
to year. The gaunt wolf had once ravaged the glens, and the sly fox and
fierce cat-a-mountain still harboured within them. Nor were those the
only objects of dread. The superstitious declared the gorge was haunted
by a frightful, hirsute demon, yclept Hobthurst.

The general savage character of the ravine was relieved by some spots of
exquisite beauty, where the traveller might have lingered with delight,
if apprehension of assault from robber, or visit from Hobthurst, had not
urged him on. Numberless waterfalls, gushing from fissures in the hills,
coursed down their seamy sides, looking like threads of silver as they
sprang from point to point. One of the most beautiful of these cascades,
issuing from a gully in the rocks near the cavern called the Earl's
Bower, fell, in rainy seasons, in one unbroken sheet of a hundred and
fifty feet. Through the midst of the gorge ran a swift and brawling
stream, known by the appellation of the Calder; but it must not be
confounded with the river flowing past Whalley Abbey. The course of this
impetuous current was not always restrained within its rocky channel,
and when swollen by heavy rains, it would frequently invade the narrow
causeway running beside it, and, spreading over the whole width of the
gorge, render the road almost impassable.

Through this rocky and sombre defile, and by the side of the brawling
Calder, which dashed swiftly past him, Nicholas took his way. The hawks
were yelling overhead; the rooks were cawing on the topmost branches of
some tall timber, on which they built; a raven was croaking lustily in
the wood; and a pair of eagles were soaring in the still glowing sky.

By-and-by, the glen contracted, and a wall of steep rocks on either side
hemmed the shuddering traveller in. Instinctively, he struck spurs into
his horse, and accelerated his pace.

The narrow glen expands, the precipices fall further back, and the
traveller breathes more freely. Still, he does not relax his speed, for
his imagination has been at work in the gloom, peopling his path with
lurking robbers or grinning boggarts. He begins to fear he shall lose
his gold, and execrates his folly for incurring such heedless risk. But
it is too late now to turn back.

It grows rapidly dusk, and objects became less and less distinct,
assuming fantastical and fearful forms. A blasted tree, clinging to a
rock, and thrusting a bare branch across the road, looks to the squire
like a bandit; and a white owl bursting from a bush, scares him as if it
had been Hobthurst himself. However, in spite of these and other alarms,
for which he is indebted to excited fancy, he hurries on, and is
proceeding at a thundering pace, when all at once his horse comes to a
stop, arrested by a tall female figure, resembling that seen near the
mountain cairn at the entrance of the gorge.

Nicholas's blood ran cold, for though in this case he could not
apprehend plunder, he was fearful of personal injury, for he believed
the woman to be a witch. Mustering up courage, however, he forced Robin
to proceed.

If his progress was meant to be barred, a better spot for the purpose
could not have been selected. A narrow road, scarcely two feet in width,
ran round the ledge of a tremendous crag, jutting so far into the glen
that it almost met the steep barrier of rocks opposite it. Between these
precipitous crags dashed the river in a foaming cascade, nearly twelve
feet in height, and the steep narrow causeway winding beside it, as
above described, was rendered excessively slippery and dangerous from
the constant cloud of spray arising from the fall.

At the highest and narrowest point of the ledge, and occupying nearly
the whole of its space, with an overhanging rock on one side of her, and
a roaring torrent on the other, stood the tall woman, determined
apparently, from her attitude and deportment, to oppose the squire's
further progress. As Nicholas advanced, he became convinced that it was
the same person he had seen near the cairn; but, when her features grew
distinguishable, he found to his surprise that it was Nance Redferne.

"Halloa! Nance," he cried. "What are you doing here, lass, eh?"

"Cum to warn ye, squoire," she replied; "yo once did me a sarvice, an ey
hanna forgetten it. That's why I watched ye fro' the cairn cliffs, an
motioned ye to ge back. Boh ye didna onderstand my signs, or wouldna
heed 'em, so ey be cum'd here to stay ye. Yo're i' dawnger, ey tell ye."

"In danger of what, my good woman?" demanded the squire uneasily.

"O' bein' robbed, and plundered o' your gowd," replied Nance; "there are
five men waitin' to set upon ye a mile further on, at the Bowder
Stoans."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Nicholas; "they will get little for their pains. I
have no money about me."

"Dunna think to deceive me, squoire," rejoined Nance; "ey knoa yo ha
borrowed three hundert punds i' gowd fro' yung Ruchot Assheton; an os
surely os ye ha it aw under your jerkin, so surely win yo lose it, if yo
dunna turn back, or ge on without me keepin' ye company."

"I have no objection on earth to your company, Nance," replied the
squire; "quite the contrary. But how the devil should these rascals
expect me? And, above all, how should they conjecture I should come so
well provided? For, sooth to say, such is not ordinarily the case with
me."

"Ey knoa it weel, squoire," replied Nance, with a laugh; boh they ha
received sartin information o' your movements."

"There is only one person who could give them such information," cried
Nicholas; "but I cannot, will not suspect him."

"If yor're thinkin' o' Lawrence Fogg, yo're na far wide o' th' mark,
squoire," replied Nance.

"What! Fogg leagued with robbers--impossible!" exclaimed Nicholas.

"Neaw, it's nah so unpossible os aw that," returned Nance; "yo 'n stare
when ey tell yo he has robbed yo mony a time without your being aware on
it. Yo were onwise enough to send him round to your friends to borrow
money for yo."

"True, so I was. But, luckily, no one would lend me any," said Nicholas.

"There yo're wrong, squoire--fo' unluckily they aw did," replied Nance,
with a scarcely-suppressed laugh. "Roger Nowell gied him one hundred;
Tummus Whitaker of Holme, another; Ruchot Parker o' Browsholme, another.
An more i' th' same way."

"And the rascal pocketed it all, and never brought me back one
farthing," cried Nicholas, in a transport of rage. "I'll have him
hanged--pshaw! hanging's too good for him. To deceive me, his friend,
his benefactor, his patron, in such a manner; to dwell in my house, eat
at my table, drink my wine, wear my habiliments, ride my horses, hunt
with my hounds! Has the dog no conscience?"

"Varry little, ey'm afear'd," replied Nance.

"And the worst of it is," continued the squire--new lights breaking upon
him, "I shall be liable for all the sums he has received. He was my
confidential agent, and the lenders will come upon me. It must be six or
seven hundred pounds that he has obtained in this nefarious way. Zounds!
I shall go mad."

"Yo wur to blame fo' trustin him, squoire," rejoined Nance. "Yo ought to
ha' made proper inquiries about him at first, an then yo'd ha' found out
what sort o' chap he wur. Boh now ey'n tell ye. Lawrence Fogg is chief
o' a band o' robbers, an aw the black an villanous deeds done of late i'
this place, ha' been parpetrated by his men. A poor gentleman wur
murdert by 'em i' this varry spot th' week efore last, an his body cast
into t' river. Fogg, of course, had no hont in the fow deed, boh he
would na ha interfered to prevent it if he had bin here, fo' he never
scrupled shedding blood. An if he had bin content wi' robbin' yo,
squoire, ey wadna ha betrayed him; boh when he proposed to cut your
throttle, bekose, os he said, dead men tell neaw teles, ey could howd
out nah longer, an resolved to gi' yo warnin."

"What a monstrous and unheard-of villain!" cried the squire. "But is he
one of the ambuscade?"

Nance replied in the affirmative.

"Then, by heaven! I will confront him--I will hew him down," pursued
Nicholas, griping the hilt of his sword.

"Neaw use, ey tell ye--yo'n be overpowert an kilt," said Nance. "Tak me
wi' yo, an ey'n carry yo safely through em aw; boh ge alone, or yo'n
ne'er see Downham again. An now it's reet ey should tell ye who Lawrence
Fogg really is."

"What new wonder is in store for me?" cried Nicholas. "Who is he?"

"Maybe yo ha heerd tell that Mother Demdike had a son and a dowter,"
replied Nance; "the dowter bein', of course, Elizabeth Device; and the
son, Christopher Demdike, being supposed to be dead. Howsomever, this is
not the case, for Lawrence Fogg is he."

"I guessed as much when you began," cried Nicholas. "He has a cursedly
bad look about the eyes--a damned Demdike physiognomy. What an infernal
villain the fellow must be! without a jot of natural feeling. Why, he
has this very day assisted at his nephew's capture, and caused his own
sister to be arrested. Oh, I have been properly duped! To lodge a son of
that infernal hag in my house--feed him, clothe him, make him my
friend--take him, the viper! to my bosom! I have been rightly served.
But he shall hang!--he shall hang! That is some consolation, though
slight. But how do you know all this, Nance?"