“Then curses on thee for thy treachery,” cried the hag, “and on thy master, who deceived me in the bond he placed before me.”

The familiar laughed hoarsely.

“But what of Mother Demdike?” pursued the hag.  “Hast thou no comfort for me?  Tell me her hour is likewise come, and I will forgive thee.  But do not let her triumph over me.”

The familiar made no answer, but, laughing derisively, stamped upon the ground, and it opened to receive him.

“Alizon!” cried Mistress Nutter, who in the mean time had vainly endeavoured to rouse her daughter to full consciousness, “fly with me, my child.  The enemy is at hand.”

“What enemy?” asked Alizon, faintly.  “I have so many, that I know not whom you mean.”

“But this is the worst of all—­this is Mother Demdike,” cried Mistress Nutter.  “She would take your life.  If we can but conceal ourselves for a short while, we are safe.”

“I am too weak to move,” said Alizon; “besides, I dare not trust you.  I have been deceived already.  You may be an evil spirit in the likeness of my mother.”

“Oh! no, I am indeed your own—­own mother,” rejoined Mistress Nutter.  “Ask this old woman if it is not so.”

“She is a witch herself,” replied Alizon.  “I will not trust either of you.  You are both in league with Mother Demdike.”

“We are in league to save thee from her, foolish wench!” cried Mother Chattox, “but thy perverseness will defeat all our schemes.”

“Since you will not fly, my child,” cried Mistress Nutter, “kneel down, and pray earnestly for deliverance.  Pray, while there is yet time.”

As she spoke, a growl like thunder was heard in the air, and the earth trembled beneath their feet.

“Nay, now I am sure you are my mother!” cried Alizon, flinging herself into Mistress Nutter’s arms; “and I will go with you.”

But before they could move, several dusky figures were seen rushing towards them.

“Be on your guard!” cried Mother Chattox; “here comes old Demdike with her troop.  I will aid you all I can.”

“Down on your knees!” exclaimed Mistress Nutter.

Alizon obeyed, but ere a word could pass her lips, the infuriated hag, attended by her beldame band, stood beside them.

“Ha! who is here?” she cried.  “Let me see who dares interrupt my mystic rites.”

And raising her hand, the black cloud hanging over the hill was rent asunder, and the moon shone down upon them, revealing the old witch, armed with the sacrificial knife, her limbs shaking with fury, and her eyes flashing with preternatural light.  It revealed, also, her weird attendants, as well as the group before her, consisting of the kneeling figure of Alizon, protected by the outstretched arms of her mother, and further defended by Mother Chattox, who planted herself in front of them.

Mother Demdike eyed the group for a moment as if she would, annihilate them.