They are now by the side of Pendle Water, and within sight of Rough Lee.  What tumultuous thoughts agitate the lady’s breast!  The ground she tramples on was once her own; the woods by the river side were planted by her; the mansion before her once owned her as mistress, and now she dares not approach it.  Nor does she desire to do so, for the sight of it brings back terrible recollections, and fills her again with despair.

They are now close upon it, and it appears dark, silent, and deserted.  How different from what it was of yore in her husband’s days—­the husband she had foully slain!  Speed on, old huntsman!—­lash your panting horse, or the remorseful lady will far outstrip you, for she rides as if the avenging furies were at her heels.

She is rattling over the bridge, and Crouch, toiling after her, and with Grip toiling after him, shouts to her to moderate her pace.  She looks back, and beholds the grim old house frowning full upon her, and hurries on.  Huntsman and dog are left behind for awhile, but the steep ascent soon compels her to slacken speed, and they come up, Crouch swearing lustily, and Grip, with his tongue out of his mouth, limping as if foot-sore.

The road now leads through a thicket.  The horses stumble frequently, for the stones are loose, and the footing consequently uncertain.  Crouch has a fall, and ere he can remount the lady is gone.  It is useless to hurry after her, and he is proceeding slowly, when Grip, who is a little in advance, growls fiercely, and looks back at his master, as if to intimate that danger is at hand.  The huntsman presses on, but he is too late, if, indeed, he could at any time have rendered effectual assistance.  A clearing in the thicket shows him the lady dismounted, and surrounded by several wild-looking men armed with calivers.  Part of the band bear her shrieking off, and the rest fire at him, but without effect, and then chase him as far as the steepest part of the hill, down which he dashes, followed by Grip.  Arrived at the bottom, he pauses to listen if he is pursued, and hearing nothing further to alarm him, debates with himself what is best to be done; and, not liking to alarm the village, for that would be to betray Mistress Nutter, he gets off his horse, ties him to a tree, and with Grip close at his heels, commences the ascent of the hill by a different road from that he had previously taken.

Meanwhile, Mistress Nutter’s captors dragged her forcibly towards the tower.  Their arms and appearance left her no doubt they were depredators, and she sought to convince them she had neither money nor valuables in her possession.  They laughed at her assertions, but made no other reply.  Her sole consolation was, that they did not seek to deprive her of her Bible.