“Not now, perhaps,” returned Alizon; “but a time will come when she will do so.”

While this conversation took place, it had been rapidly growing dark, and the gloom at length increased so much, that the speakers could scarcely see each other’s faces.  The sudden and portentous darkness was accounted for by a vivid flash of lightning, followed by a low growl of thunder rumbling over Whalley Nab.  The mother and daughter drew close together, and Mistress Nutter passed her arm round Alizon’s neck.

The storm came quickly on, with forked and dangerous lightning, and loud claps of thunder threatening mischief.  Presently, all its fury seemed collected over the Abbey.  The red flashes hissed, and the peals of thunder rolled overhead.  But other terrors were added to Alizon’s natural dread of the elemental warfare.  Again she fancied the two monkish figures, which had before excited her alarm, moved, and even shook their arms menacingly at her.  At first she attributed this wild idea to her overwrought imagination, and strove to convince herself of its fallacy by keeping her eyes steadily fixed upon them.  But each succeeding flash only served to confirm her superstitious apprehensions.

Another circumstance contributed to heighten her alarm.  Scared most probably by the storm, a large white owl fluttered down the chimney, and after wheeling twice or thrice round the chamber, settled upon the bed, hooting, puffing, ruffling its feathers, and glaring at her with eyes that glowed like fiery coals.

Mistress Nutter seemed little moved by the storm, though she kept a profound silence, but when Alizon gazed in her face, she was frightened by its expression, which reminded her of the terrible aspect she had worn at the interview with Mother Chattox.

All at once Mistress Nutter arose, and, rapid as the lightning playing around her and revealing her movements, made several passes, with extended hands, over her daughter; and on this the latter instantly fell back, as if fainting, though still retaining her consciousness; and, what was stranger still, though her eyes were closed, her power of sight remained.

In this condition she fancied invisible forms were moving about her.  Strange sounds seemed to salute her ears, like the gibbering of ghosts, and she thought she felt the flapping of unseen wings around her.

All at once her attention was drawn—­she knew not why—­towards the closet, and from out it she fancied she saw issue the tall dark figure of a man.  She was sure she saw him; for her imagination could not body forth features charged with such a fiendish expression, or eyes of such unearthly lustre.  He was clothed in black, but the fashion of his raiments was unlike aught she had ever seen.  His stature was gigantic, and a pale phosphoric light enshrouded him.  As he advanced, forked lightnings shot into the room, and the thunder split overhead.  The owl hooted fearfully, quitted its perch, and flew off by the way it had entered the chamber.