Bess’s o’ th’ Booth was an extremely clean and comfortable house.  The floor, it is true, was of hard clay, and the windows little more than narrow slits, with heavy stone frames, further darkened by minute diamond panes; but the benches were scrupulously clean, and so was the long oak table in the centre of the principal and only large room in the house.  A roundabout fireplace occupied one end of the chamber, sheltered from the draught of the door by a dark oak screen, with a bench on the warm side of it; and here, or in the deep ingle-nooks, on winter nights, the neighbours would sit and chat by the blazing hearth, discussing pots of “nappy ale, good and stale,” as the old ballad hath it; and as persons of both sexes came thither, young as well as old, many a match was struck up by Bess’s cheery fireside.  From the blackened rafters hung a goodly supply of hams, sides of bacon, and dried tongues, with a profusion of oatcakes in a bread-flake; while, in case this store should be exhausted, means of replenishment were at hand in the huge, full-crammed meal-chest standing in one corner.  Altogether, there was a look of abundance as well as of comfort about the place.

Great was Bess’s consternation when the poor pedlar, who had quitted her house little more than an hour ago, full of health and spirits, was brought back to it in such a deplorable condition; and when she saw him deposited at her door, notwithstanding her masculine character, she had some difficulty in repressing a scream.  She did not, however, yield to the weakness, but seeing at once what was best to be done, caused him to be transported by the grooms to the chamber he had occupied over-night, and laid upon the bed.  Medical assistance was fortunately at hand; for it chanced that Master Sudall, the chirurgeon of Colne, was in the house at the time, having been brought to Goldshaw by the great sickness that prevailed at Sabden and elsewhere in the neighbourhood.  Sudall was immediately in attendance upon the sufferer, and bled him copiously, after which the poor man seemed much easier; and Richard Assheton, taking the chirurgeon aside, asked his opinion of the case, and was told by Sudall that he did not think the pedlar’s life in danger, but he doubted whether he would ever recover the use of his limbs.

“You do not attribute the attack to witchcraft, I suppose, Master Sudall?” said Richard.

“I do not like to deliver an opinion, sir,” replied the chirurgeon.  “It is impossible to decide, when all the appearances are precisely like those of an ordinary attack of paralysis.  But a sad case has recently come under my observation, as to which I can have no doubt—­I mean as to its being the result of witchcraft—­but I will tell you more about it presently, for I must now return to my patient.”