“There is something in the notion, nevertheless,” replied Nicholas; “and though our case may, I hope, continue an exception to the rule, most grantees of ecclesiastical houses have found them a curse, and the time may come when the Abbey may prove so to our descendants.  But, without discussing the point, there is one instance in which the malignant influence of the vindictive abbot has undoubtedly extended long after his death.  You have heard, I suppose, that he pronounced a dreadful anathema upon the child of a man who had the reputation of being a wizard, and who afterwards acted as his executioner.  I know not the whole particulars of the dark story, but I know that Paslew fixed a curse upon the child, declaring it should become a witch, and the mother of witches.  And the prediction has been verified.  Nigh eighty years have flown by since then, and the infant still lives—­a fearful and mischievous witch—­and all her family are similarly fated—­all are witches.”

“I never heard the story before,” said Richard, somewhat thoughtfully; “but I guess to whom you allude—­Mother Demdike of Pendle Forest, and her family.”

“Precisely,” rejoined Nicholas; “they are a brood of witches.”

“In that case Alizon Device must be a witch,” cried Richard; “and I think you will hardly venture upon such an assertion after what you have seen of her to-day.  If she be a witch, I would there were many such—­as fair and gentle.  And see you not how easily the matter is explained?  ’Give a dog an ill name and hang him’—­a proverb with which you are familiar enough.  So with Mother Demdike.  Whether really uttered or not, the abbot’s curse upon her and her issue has been bruited abroad, and hence she is made a witch, and her children are supposed to inherit the infamous taint.  So it is with yon tomb.  It is said to be dangerous to our family, and dangerous no doubt it is to those who believe in the saying, which, luckily, I do not.  The prophecy works its own fulfilment.  The absurdity and injustice of yielding to the opinion are manifest.  No wrong can have been done the abbot by Mother Demdike, any more than by her children, and yet they are to be punished for the misdeeds of their predecessor.”

“Ay, just as you and I, who are of the third and fourth generation, may be punished for the sins of our fathers,” rejoined Nicholas.  “You have Scripture against you, Dick.  The only thing I see in favour of your argument is, the instance you allege of Alizon.  She does not look like a witch, certainly; but there is no saying.  She may be only the more dangerous for her rare beauty, and apparent innocence!”

“I would answer for her truth with my life,” cried Richard, quickly.  “It is impossible to look at her countenance, in which candour and purity shine forth, and doubt her goodness.”

“She hath cast her spells over you, Dick, that is certain,” rejoined Nicholas, laughing; “but to be serious.  Alizon, I admit, is an exception to the rest of the family, but that only strengthens the general rule.  Did you ever remark the strange look they all—­save the fair maid in question—­have about the eyes?”