[38] Col-dwr, or narrow water.  See Whitaker’s etymology of the word (Hist. of Manchester).

[39] See an able article on this subject in the Retrospective Review, vol. v. part i.

[40] “On Christmas daie at night, a threed must be sponne of flax, by a little virgine girl, in the name of the divell; and it must be by her woven, and also wrought with the needle.  On the breste or fore part thereof must be made, with needlework, two heads; on the head of the right side must be a hat, and a long beard,—­the left head must have on a crown, and it must be so horrible that it maie resemble Belzebub; and on each side of the wastcote must be made a crosse.”—­Discoverie of Witchcraft, by Reginald Scott, 1584.

PART SECOND.

On the verge of the Castle Clough, a deep and winding dingle, once shaded with venerable oaks, are the small remains of the Castle of Hapton, the seat of its ancient lords, and, till the erection of Hapton Tower, the occasional residence of the De la Leghs and Townleys.  Hapton Tower is now destroyed to its foundation.  It was a large square building, and about a hundred years ago presented the remains of three cylindrical towers with conical basements.  It also appears to have had two principal entrances opposite to each other, with a thorough lobby between, and seems not to have been built in the usual form,—­that of a quadrangle.  It was erected about the year 1510, and was inhabited until 1667.  The family-name of the nobleman—­for such he appears to have been—­of whom the following story is told, we have no means of ascertaining.  That he was an occasional resident or visitor at the Tower is but surmise.  During the period of these dark transactions we find that the mansion was inhabited by Jane Assheton, relict of Richard Townley, who died in the year 1637.  Whoever he might be, the following horrible event, arising out of this superstition, attaches to his memory.  Whether it can be attributed to the operations of a mind just bordering on insanity, and highly wrought upon by existing delusions,—­or must be classed amongst the proofs, so abundantly furnished by all believers in the reality of witchcraft and demoniacal possession, our readers must determine as we unfold the tale.

Lord William had seen, and had openly vowed to win, the proud maiden of Bernshaw Tower.  He did win her, but he did not woo her.  A dark and appalling secret was connected with their union, which we shall briefly develop.

Lady Sibyl, “the proud maiden of Bernshaw,” was from her youth the creature of impulse and imagination—­a child of nature and romance.  She roved unchecked through the green valleys and among the glens and moorlands of her native hills; every nook and streamlet was associated with some hidden thought “too deep for tears,” until Nature became her god,—­the hills and fastnesses, the trackless wilds and mountains,