“Go to Malkin Tower at midnight, and thou wilt see,” replied the familiar, with a mocking laugh.

“I will go there, but it shall be to deliver her,” rejoined Mistress Nutter.  “And now get thee gone!  I need thee no more.”

“Be not deceived, proud woman,” said the familiar.  “Once dismissed, I may not be recalled, while thou wilt be wholly unable to defend thyself against thy enemies.”

“I care not,” she rejoined; “begone!”

The familiar stepped back, and, stamping upon the hearthstone, it sank like a trapdoor, and he disappeared beneath it, a flash of lightning playing round his dusky figure.

Notwithstanding her vaunted resolution, and the boldness with which she had comported herself before the familiar, Mistress Nutter now completely gave way, and for awhile abandoned herself to despair.  Aroused at length by the absolute necessity of action, she again walked to the window and looked forth.  The storm still raged furiously without—­so furiously, indeed, that it would be madness to brave it, now that she was deprived of her power, and reduced to the ordinary level of humanity.  Its very violence, however, assured her it must soon cease, and she would then set out for Malkin Tower.  But what chance had she now in a struggle with the old hag, with all the energies of hell at her command?—­what hope was there of her being able to effect her daughter’s liberation?  No matter, however desperate, the attempt should be made.  Meanwhile, it would be necessary so see what was going on below, and ascertain whether Blackadder had returned with Parson Holden.  With this view, she descended to the hall, where she found Nicholas Assheton fast asleep in a great arm-chair, and rocked rather than disturbed by the loud concussions of thunder.  The squire was, no doubt, overcome by the fatigues of the day, or it might be by the potency of the wine he had swallowed, for an empty flask stood on the table beside him.  Mistress Nutter did not awaken him, but proceeded to the chamber where she had left Nowell and Potts prisoners, both of whom rose on her entrance.

“Be seated, gentlemen, I pray you,” she said, courteously.  “I am come to see if you need any thing; for when this fearful storm abates, I am going forth for a short time.”

“Indeed, madam,” replied Potts.  “For myself I require nothing further; but perhaps another bottle of wine might be agreeable to my honoured and singular good client.”

“Speak for yourself, sir,” cried Roger Nowell, sharply.

“You shall have it,” interposed Mistress Nutter.  “I shall be glad of a word with you before I go, Master Nowell.  I am sorry this dispute has arisen between us.”

“Humph!” exclaimed the magistrate.

“Very sorry,” pursued Mistress Nutter; “and I wish to make every reparation in my power.”

“Reparation, madam!” cried Nowell.  “Give back the land you have stolen from me—­restore the boundary lines—­sign the deed in Sir Ralph’s possession—­that is the only reparation you can make.”