Part 46 (2/2)
”True, true, Bess,” replied the squire, ”and the best plan therefore is, to make the most of the pa.s.sing moment. So brew us each a l.u.s.ty pottle of sack, and fry us some more eggs and bacon.”
And while the hostess proceeded to prepare the sack, Potts remarked to Nicholas, ”I have got another case of witchcraft, squire. Mary Baldwyn, the miller's daughter, of Rough Lee.”
”Indeed!” exclaimed Nicholas. ”What, is the poor girl bewitched?”
”Bewitched to death-that's all,” said Potts.
”Eigh-poor Meary! hoo's to be berried here this mornin,” observed Bess, emptying the bottle of sherris into a pot, and placing the latter on the fire.
”And you think she was forespoken?” said Nicholas, addressing her.
”Folk sayn so,” replied Bess; ”boh I'd leyther howd my tung about it.”
”Then I suppose you pay tribute to Mother Chattox, hostess?” cried Potts,-”b.u.t.ter, eggs, and milk from the farm, ale and wine from the cellar, with a flitch of bacon now and then, ey?”
”Nay, by th' maskins! ey gi' her nowt,” cried Bess.
”Then you bribe Mother Demdike, and that comes to the same thing,” said Potts.
”Weel, yo're neaw so fur fro' t' mark this time,” replied Bess, adding eggs, sugar, and spice to the now boiling wine, and stirring up the compound.
”I wonder where your brother, the reeve of the forest, can be, Master Potts!” observed Nicholas. ”I did not see either him or his horse at the stables.”
”Perhaps the arch impostor has taken himself off altogether,” said Potts; ”and if so, I shall be sorry, for I have not done with him.”
The sack was now set before them, and p.r.o.nounced excellent, and while they were engaged in discussing it, together with a fresh supply of eggs and bacon, fried by the kitchen wench, Roger Nowell came out of the inner room, accompanied by Richard and the chirurgeon.
”Well, Master Sudall, how goes on your patient?” inquired Nicholas of the latter.
”Much more favourably than I expected, squire,” replied the chirurgeon. ”He will be better left alone for awhile, and, as I shall not quit the village till evening, I shall be able to look well after him.”
”You think the attack occasioned by witchcraft of course, sir?” said Potts.
”The poor fellow affirms it to be so, but I can give no opinion,” replied Sudall, evasively.
”You must make up your mind as to the matter, for I think it right to tell you your evidence will be required,” said Potts. ”Perhaps, you may have seen poor Mary Baldwyn, the miller's daughter of Rough Lee, and can speak more positively as to her case.”
”I can, sir,” replied the chirurgeon, seating himself beside Potts, while Roger Nowell and Richard placed themselves on the opposite side of the table. ”This is the case I referred to a short time ago, when answering your inquiries on the same subject, Master Richard, and a most afflicting one it is. But you shall have the particulars. Six months ago, Mary Baldwyn was as lovely and blooming a la.s.s as could be seen, the joy of her widowed father's heart. A hot-headed, obstinate man is Richard Baldwyn, and he was unwise enough to incur the displeasure of Mother Demdike, by favouring her rival, old Chattox, to whom he gave flour and meal, while he refused the same tribute to the other. The first time Mother Demdike was dismissed without the customary dole, one of his millstones broke, and, instead of taking this as a warning, he became more obstinate. She came a second time, and he sent her away with curses. Then all his flour grew damp and musty, and no one would buy it. Still he remained obstinate, and, when she appeared again, he would have laid hands upon her. But she raised her staff, and the blows fell short. 'I have given thee two warnings, Richard,' she said, 'and thou hast paid no heed to them. Now I will make thee smart, lad, in right earnest. That which thou lovest best thou shalt lose.' Upon this, bethinking him that the dearest thing he had in the world was his daughter Mary, and afraid of harm happening to her, Richard would fain have made up his quarrel with the old witch; but it had now gone too far, and she would not listen to him, but uttering some words, with which the name of the girl was mingled, shook her staff at the house and departed. The next day poor Mary was taken ill, and her father, in despair, applied to old Chattox, who promised him help, and did her best, I make no doubt-for she would have willingly thwarted her rival, and robbed her of her prey; but the latter was too strong for her, and the hapless victim got daily worse and worse. Her blooming cheek grew white and hollow, her dark eyes glistened with unnatural l.u.s.tre, and she was seen no more on the banks of Pendle water. Before this my aid had been called in by the afflicted father-and I did all I could-but I knew she would die-and I told him so. The information I feared had killed him, for he fell down like a stone-and I repented having spoken. However he recovered, and made a last appeal to Mother Demdike; but the unrelenting hag derided him and cursed him, telling him if he brought her all his mill contained, and added to that all his substance, she would not spare his child. He returned heart-broken, and never quitted the poor girl's bedside till she breathed her last.”
”Poor Ruchot! Robb'd o' his ownly dowter-an neaw woife to cheer him! Ey pity him fro' t' bottom o' my heart,” said Bess, whose tears had flowed freely during the narration.
”He is wellnigh crazed with grief,” said the chirurgeon. ”I hope he will commit no rash act.”
Expressions of deep commiseration for the untimely death of the miller's daughter had been uttered by all the party, and they were talking over the strange circ.u.mstances attending it, when they were roused by the trampling of horses' feet at the door, and the moment after, a middle-aged man, clad in deep mourning, but put on in a manner that betrayed the disorder of his mind, entered the house. His looks were wild and frenzied, his cheeks haggard, and he rushed into the room so abruptly that he did not at first observe the company a.s.sembled.
”Why, Richard Baldwyn, is that you?” cried the chirurgeon.
<script>