“He will abandon me,” interrupted Mistress Nutter; “I knew it.  Fool that I was to trust one who, from the beginning, has been a deceiver.”

“You have a short memory, and but little gratitude, madam and seem entirely to forget the important favour conferred upon you last night.  At your solicitation, the boundaries of your property were changed, and large slips of land filched from another, to be given to you.  But if you fail in your duty, you cannot expect this to continue.  The boundary marks will be set up in their old places, and the land restored to its rightful owner.”

“I expected as much,” observed Mistress Nutter, disdainfully.

“Thus all our pains will be thrown away,” pursued the familiar; “and though you may make light of the labour, it is no easy task to change the face of a whole country—­to turn streams from their course, move bogs, transplant trees, and shift houses, all of which has been done, and will now have to be undone, because of your inconstancy.  I, myself, have been obliged to act as many parts as a poor player to please you, and now you dismiss me at a moment’s notice, as if I had played them indifferently, whereas the most fastidious audience would have been ravished with my performance.  This morning I was the reeve of the forest, and as such obliged to assume the shape of a rascally attorney.  I felt it a degradation, I assure you.  Nor was I better pleased when you compelled me to put on the likeness of old Roger Nowell; for, whatever you may think, I am not so entirely destitute of personal vanity as to prefer either of their figures to my own.  However, I showed no disinclination to oblige you.  You are strangely unreasonable to-day.  Is it my lord’s fault if your desire of vengeance expires in its fruition—­if, when you have accomplished an object, you no longer care for it?  You ask for revenge—­for power.  You have them, and cast them aside like childish baubles!”

“Thy lord is an arch deceiver,” rejoined Mistress Nutter; “and cannot perform his promises.  They are empty delusions—­profitless, unsubstantial as shadows.  His power prevails not against any thing holy, as I myself have just now experienced.  His money turns to withered leaves; his treasures are dust and ashes.  Strong only is he in power of mischief, and even his mischief, like curses, recoils on those who use it.  His vengeance is no true vengeance, for it troubles the conscience, and engenders remorse; whereas the servant of heaven heaps coals of fire on the head of his adversary by kindness, and satisfies his own heart.”

“You should have thought of all this before you vowed yourself to him,” said the familiar; “it is too late to reflect now.”

“Perchance not,” rejoined Mistress Nutter.

“Beware!” thundered the demon, with a terrible gesture; “any overt act of disobedience, and your limbs shall be scattered over this chamber.”