“I should like to see the instrument,” said Potts.  “I might give a legal opinion upon it.  Perhaps it might be avoided; and in any case its production in court would have an admirable effect.  I think I see the counsel examining it, and hear the judges calling for it to be placed before them.  His infernal Majesty’s signature must be a curiosity in its way.  Our gracious and sagacious monarch would delight in it.”

“Peace!” exclaimed Nicholas; “and take care,” he cried, “that no further interruptions are offered by that infernal hag.  Have you done, madam?” he added to Mistress Nutter, who still remained with her daughter folded in her arms.

“Not yet,” replied the lady.  “Oh! what happiness I have thrown away!  What anguish—­what remorse brought upon myself by the evil life I have led!  As I gaze on this fair face, and think it might long, long have brightened my dark and desolate life with its sunshine—­as I think upon all this, my fortitude wellnigh deserts me, and I have need of support from on high to carry me through my trial.  But I fear it will be denied me.  Nicholas Assheton, you have the deed of the gift of Rough Lee in your possession.  Henceforth Alizon is mistress of the mansion and domains.”

“Provided always they are not forfeited to the crown, which I apprehend will be the case,” suggested Potts.

“I will take care she is put in possession of them,” said Nicholas.

“As to you, Richard,” continued Mistress Nutter, “the time may come when your devotion to my daughter may be rewarded and I could not bestow a greater boon upon you than by giving you her hand.  It may be well I should give my consent now, and, if no other obstacle should arise to the union, may she be yours, and happiness I am sure will attend you!”

Overpowered by conflicting emotions, Alizon hid her face in her mother’s bosom, and Richard, who was almost equally overcome, was about to reply, when Mother Demdike broke upon them.

“They will never be united!” she screamed.  “Never!  I have said it, and my words will come true.  Think’st thou a witch like thee can bless an union, Alice Nutter?  Thy blessings are curses, thy wishes disappointments and despair.  Thriftless love shall be Alizon’s, and the grave shall be her bridal bed.  The witch’s daughter shall share the witch’s fate.”

These boding words produced a terrible effect upon the hearers.

“Heed her not, my sweet child—­she speaks falsely,” said Mistress Nutter, endeavouring to re-assure her daughter; but the tone in which the words were uttered showed that she herself was greatly alarmed.

“I have cursed them both, and I will curse them again,” yelled Mother Demdike.

“Away with the old screech-owl,” cried Nicholas.  “Take her to the beacon, and, if she continues troublesome, hurl her into the flame.”

And, notwithstanding the hag’s struggles and imprecations, she was removed.