Part 12 (1/2)

”Then listen to me.” And the hag whispered something in the ears of her young companion which appeared to satisfy her, for in a little while the two left the gibbet, carrying the dead child in a bundle between them.

The next day, one who pa.s.sed the gibbet noticed that the corpse hanging thereon had only one hand.

A short time afterwards it was reported that the infant child of the steward had been spirited away in the night. It had been set to sleep in its cradle, and when the nurse awoke the cradle was empty, and the window open. There was a great outcry, and men were sent in search; the searchers presently returned bearing the dead body of a male child, the face of which had been half eaten away. It was impossible to recognise the features, but the steward wept over the body, telling himself that his son had been devoured by some savage beast of the forest, that had made its way into the mansion, and stolen the child while the household slept. He suspected that some evil witch-wife had been at work, and he trembled with fear, for he was sore afraid of the powers of darkness, as all wicked men are.

Meanwhile the dead man's widow dwelt with the old witch at a haunted hut in the forest, and it was reported that her son throve apace.

Years pa.s.sed by, and the steward had no more children. The shock of his son's death had proved too much for his lady's strength, and she became an invalid. He grew more brutal and unmerciful in his conduct day by day, and the peasantry came to regard him as a fiend in human shape.

As for the old witch and the poor distracted widow and her child, they lived in the haunted hut, shunned by all--for it was reported that the widow herself had also become a witch, and was in league with the powers of darkness. The lad grew up into a fine youth, and had he lived an honest life, he would have been accounted one of the handsomest and likeliest lads in all Longdendale. But the training of his mother and the old witch had led him to spend his days in all manner of evil, he robbed and plundered, and finally took to the woods as an outlaw. Inspired by his mother, he was particularly severe in his depredations upon the property of the steward, and being reckless and daring to an unusual degree, he had so far succeeded in avoiding capture. At length there came a time when an adventure more impudent and daring than all previous affairs, caused the steward to put a price upon his head, and so keen was the hunt after him that the bold rascal found it necessary to keep in hiding.

The steward chafed with anger, for all his efforts to lay the robber by the heels were fruitless, and he had small hopes of ascertaining the whereabouts of the man he wanted. One day, however, an old hag presented herself at his gate, and asked for an interview.

”Ah,” said he, recognising the old witch, ”what doest thou here. Where is that imp of Satan whom thou hast helped to rear?”

”That, good Master Steward, is even what I am come to tell thee,”

answered the hag.

”How now,” said the steward; ”what evil scheme is afloat now?'

”Revenge,” said the witch, snapping her toothless gums, and shaking her crutch. ”Revenge upon the woman--my companion, and upon her evil-minded son. They have played me false, and now I mean to return the compliment. The woman is away on a journey, and to-night her son crept in from the forest for shelter and a meal. I gave him meat and drink, but I drugged the drink, and now he lies in slumber at my hut in the forest. Send thy guards, steward, and take him ere he wakes.”

The steward rubbed his hands with glee, and laughed joyously.

”Thou devil's sp.a.w.n,” said he, ”thou shalt be rewarded if we take him.”

”I seek no reward but to see him gibbetted,” said the witch.

”Thy wish shall be gratified,” said the steward; and without more ado he called his men, and marched off to the witch's hut to effect the arrest.

In those days little time was lost between the arrest of a man and his death upon the gallows; and on the following day the witch and her companion--the young widow of the earlier part of this story--accompanied a procession to the place of execution at Gallow's Clough. The steward was there with his men-at-arms--and as he beheld the widow, he turned to her and began to rail.

”Ah, thou h.e.l.l-cat. Dost thou love the gallows so? Thy husband died on this gibbet, and now thy son comes to the same end. Like father, like son. 'Tis in the breed. Why dost thou not weep and shriek for mercy as thou did'st when thy man was swung?”

Then the woman answered with a laugh:

”Because I am mad, thou fool, and cannot weep. My tears were dried up with weeping over my husband, and now I can weep no more. I must laugh, man, laugh when the gibbet creaks beneath the weight of a dead man. The days of weeping are past, the time of laughter and rejoicing is come.”

”Thou speakest truth,” quoth the steward, turning away. ”Thou art mad indeed.”

”Yet not so mad as thou, oh, thou wise man,” said the woman,--but the steward did not hear her.

The executioners did their work, and the young man was hanged by the neck until he was dead. Then the steward and his men turned to depart.

But the widow stood before him, and laughed in his face.

”Wise man--madman, rather,” said she. ”Whom, thinkest thou, is that dead man on the gallows?”