A pause at length ensued.  Some three or four of the group drew towards the crone, who sat almost double, her chin resting on the neb of her crutch.

“Now will we give thee two changes of raiment, together with a mess of barley-pottage; and every year thou shalt have a penny at Easter, and a fat hen at Shrovetide.”

“Good,” said the greedy beldame; “but I’ll have a sheep-skin cap for the boy, and a horn spoon.”  This demand was also granted; after which she made signs to the lad, who swung his head to and fro, at the same time distorting his features with a wild and terrible rapidity.  It was evident that he understood the nature of these proceedings.  A glance, like that of mockery and derision, he cast towards the crowd; and when Mother Cicely was returning, he threw back upon them a look of scorn and malignity which made the beholders shrink aside with horror.

The people now addressed themselves to the task of replacing the heavy materials, and ere night the greater part were withdrawn, ready to begin with the foundations again on the morrow.

A sort of rude shelter was constructed, wherein Uctred was to keep watch until daylight.

The morning came, calm and beautiful over the grey hills; and the anxious inhabitants, awake betimes, did each turn his first steps towards the river’s brink.  With horror and amazement they again beheld the ground bare.  Not a vestige remained, nor was there any trace of the boy.

“He is gone to his own,” said they, as a general shudder went through the crowd; “and the fairies have gotten him at last.”

Every heart seemed quailing with some hidden fear; nor could any means at that moment be suggested for their emancipation.

The stones and timber were again found, as before, on the opposite hill.  Fifty stout men had with difficulty contrived to fetch them from thence the day preceding, and twice that number would hardly have sufficed to transport them thither.  It was not to be gainsayed that a power superior to their own was the agent in removals so mysterious.  Nothing now remained but to acquaint their lord with this second interruption; and their diligence in performing this duty, they hoped, might exculpate them from the heavy doom they had incurred.  Some of the wiser and more stout-hearted were chosen to carry these tidings to the Thane, hoping to clear themselves from the ban, as well as to return with commands for their future proceedings.

Gamel de Recedham, or Rochdale, had his dwelling in the ancient castle built by the Romans on the verge of a steep hill jutting into the valley of the Roach.  It was a place difficult of access, save on the southern side, where a wide ditch formed an effectual defence, and over which a narrow bridge admitted only two abreast in front of the outer gate.  It was now, in some places, fast going to decay, but enough remained out of its vast bulk to form a dwelling for the Saxon