Taking the lady’s hand, Mother Chattox drew her into the circle, and began to mutter a spell; after which, still maintaining her hold of her companion, she bade her look into the caldron, and declare what she saw.

“I see nothing,” replied the lady, after she had gazed upon the bubbling waters for a few moments.  “Ah! yes—­I discern certain figures, but they are confused by the steam, and broken by the agitation of the water.”

“Caldron—­cease boiling! and smoke—­disperse!” cried Mother Chattox, stamping her foot.  “Now, can you see more plainly?”

“I can,” replied Mistress Nutter; “I behold the subterranean chamber beneath Malkin Tower, with its nine ponderous columns, its altar in the midst of them, its demon image, and the well with waters black as Lethe beside it.”

“The water within the caldron came from that well,” said Mother Chattox, with a chuckling laugh; “my familiar risked his liberty to bring it, but he succeeded.  Ha! ha!  My precious Fancy, thou art the best of servants, and shalt have my best blood to reward thee to-morrow—­thou shalt, my sweetheart, my chuck, my dandyprat.  But hie thee back to Malkin Tower, and contrive that this lady may hear, as well as see, all that passes.  Away!”

Mistress Nutter concluded that the injunction would be obeyed; but, as the familiar was invisible to her, she could not detect his departure.

“Do you see no one within the dungeon?” inquired Mother Chattox.

“Ah! yes,” exclaimed the lady; “I have at last discovered Alizon.  She was behind one of the pillars.  A little girl is with her.  It is Jennet Device, and, from the spiteful looks of the latter, I judge she is mocking her.  Oh! what malice lurks in the breast of that hateful child!  She is a true descendant of Mother Demdike.  But Alizon—­sweet, patient Alizon—­she seems to bear all her taunts with a meekness and resignation enough to move the hardest heart.  I would weep for her if I could.  And now Jennet shakes her hand at her, and leaves her.  She is alone.  What will she do now?  Has she no thoughts of escape?  Oh, yes!  She looks about her distractedly—­runs round the vault—­tries the door of every cell:  they are all bolted and barred—­there is no outlet—­none!”

“What next?” inquired the hag.

“She shrieks aloud,” rejoined Mistress Nutter, “and the cry thrills through every fibre in my frame.  She calls upon me for aid—­upon me, her mother, and little thinks I hear her, and am unable to help her.  Oh! it is horrible.  Take me to her, good Chattox—­take me to her, I implore you!”

“Impossible!” replied the hag:  “you must await the fitting time.  If you cannot control yourself, I shall remove the caldron.”

“Oh! no, no,” cried the distracted lady.  “I will be calm.  Ah! what is this I see?” she added, belying her former words by sudden vehemence, while rage and astonishment were depicted upon her countenance.  “What infernal delusion is practised upon my child!  This is monstrous—­ intolerable.  Oh! that I could undeceive her—­could warn her of the snare!”