“I am glad of it,” said Alizon, earnestly.

“She had better be taken to the Abbey,” remarked Sir Ralph, coming up.

“Nay, she will be more at ease at home,” observed Lady Assheton with a significant look, which, however, failed in reaching her husband.

“Yes, truly shall I, gracious lady,” replied Alizon, “far more so.  I have given you trouble enough already.”

“No trouble at all,” said Sir Ralph, kindly; “her ladyship is too happy to be of service in a case like this.  Are you not, Nell?  The faintness will pass off presently.  But let her go to the Abbey at once, and remain there till the evening’s festivities, in which she takes part, commence.  Give her your arm, Dick.”

Sir Ralph’s word was law, and therefore Lady Assheton made no remonstrance.  But she said quickly, “I will take care of her myself.”

“I require no assistance, madam,” replied Alizon, “since Sir Ralph will have me go.  Nay, you are too kind, too condescending,” she added, reluctantly taking Lady Assheton’s proffered arm.

And in this way they proceeded slowly towards the Abbey, escorted by Richard Assheton, and attended by Mistress Braddyll and some others of the ladies.

Amongst those who had watched the progress of the May Queen’s restoration with most interest was Mistress Nutter, though she had not interfered; and as Alizon departed with Lady Assheton, she observed to Nicholas, who was standing near,

“Can this be the daughter of Elizabeth Device, and grand-daughter of—­”

“Your old Pendle witch, Mother Demdike,” supplied Nicholas; “the very same, I assure you, Mistress Nutter.”

“She is wholly unlike the family,” observed the lady, “and her features resemble some I have seen before.”

“She does not resemble her mother, undoubtedly,” replied Nicholas, “though what her grand-dame may have been some sixty years ago, when she was Alizon’s age, it would be difficult to say.—­She is no beauty now.”

“Those finely modelled features, that graceful figure, and those delicate hands, cannot surely belong to one lowly born and bred?” said Mistress Nutter.

“They differ from the ordinary peasant mould, truly,” replied Nicholas.  “If you ask me for the lineage of a steed, I can give a guess at it on sight of the animal, but as regards our own race I’m at fault, Mistress Nutter.”

“I must question Elizabeth Device about her,” observed Alice.  “Strange, I should never have seen her before, though I know the family so well.”

“I wish you did not know Mother Demdike quite so well, Mistress Nutter,” remarked Nicholas—­“a mischievous and malignant old witch, who deserves the tar barrel.  The only marvel is, that she has not been burned long ago.  I am of opinion, with many others, that it was she who bewitched your poor husband, Richard Nutter.”

“I do not think it,” replied Mistress Nutter, with a mournful shake of the head.  “Alas, poor man! he died from hard riding, after hard drinking.  That was the only witchcraft in his case.  Be warned by his fate yourself, Nicholas.”