Within one of its turrets called John of Gaunt’s Chair, and at eventide, stands a lady under the care of a jailer.  It is the last sunset she will ever see—­the last time she will look upon the beauties of earth; for she is a prisoner, condemned to die an ignominious and terrible death, and her execution will take place on the morrow.  Leaving her alone within the turret, the jailer locks the door and stands outside it.  The lady casts a long, lingering look around.  All nature seems so beautiful—­so attractive.  The sunset upon the broad watery sands of Morecambe Bay is exquisite in varied tints.  The fells of Furness look black and bold, and the windings of the Lune are clearly traced out.  But she casts a wistful glance towards the mountainous ridges of Lancashire, and fancies she can detect amongst the heights the rounded summit of Pendle Hill.  Then her gaze settles upon the grey old town beneath her, and, as her glance wanders over it, certain terrible objects arrest it.  In the area before the Castle she sees a ring of tall stakes.  She knows well their purpose, and counts them.  They are thirteen in number.  Thirteen wretched beings are to be burned on the morrow.  Not far from the stakes are an enormous pile of fagots.  All is prepared.  Fascinated by the sight, she remains gazing at the place of execution for some time, and when she turns, she beholds a tall dark man standing beside her.  At first she thinks it is the jailer, and is about to tell the man she is ready to descend to her cell, when she recognises him, and recoils in terror.

“Thou here—­again!” she cried.

“I can save thee from the stake, if thou wilt, Alice Nutter,” he said.

“Hence!” she exclaimed.  “Thou temptest me in vain.  Hence!”

And with a howl of rage the demon disappeared.

Conveyed back to her cell, situated within the dread Dungeon Tower, Alice Nutter passed the whole of that night in prayer.  Towards four o’clock, wearied out, she dropped into a slumber; and when the clergyman, from whom she had received spiritual consolation, came to her cell, he found her still sleeping, but with a sweet smile upon her lips—­the first he had ever beheld there.

Unwilling to disturb her, he knelt down and prayed by her side.  At length the jailer came, and the executioner’s aids.  The divine then laid his hand upon her shoulder, and she instantly arose.

“I am ready,” she said, cheerfully.

“You have had a happy dream, daughter,” he observed.

“A blessed dream, reverend sir,” she replied.  “I thought I saw my children, Richard and Alizon, in a fair garden—­oh! how angelic they looked—­and they told me I should be with them soon.”

“And I doubt not the vision will be realised,” replied the clergyman.  “Your redemption is fully worked out, and your salvation, I trust, secured.  And now you must prepare for your last trial.”

“I am fully prepared,” she replied; “but will you not go to the others?”