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"Yield!" cried Demdike in a voice of thunder, and fixing a terrible glance upon him. "Cum on, wizard," rejoined Ashbead undauntedly. But, observing that his opponent was wholly unarmed, he gave the pike to Hal o' Nabs, who was close beside him, observing, "It shall never be said that Cuthbert Ashbead feawt t' dule himsel unfairly. Nah, touch me if theaw dar'st."
"That is the ringleader," cried the officer, who proved to be Richard Assheton, pointing out Ashbead; "seize him!" "Naw mon shall lay honts o' meh," cried Cuthbert. And as the guard pushed past the monks to execute their leader's order, he sprang forward, and, wresting a halbert from the foremost of them, stood upon his defence.
Ere long, it became quite dark, and as Ashbead did not reappear, the abbot gave vent to his impatience and uneasiness, and was proposing to send one of the herdsmen in search of him, when his attention was suddenly diverted by a loud shout from one of the sentinels, and a fire was seen on a distant hill on the right. "The signal! the signal!" cried Paslew, joyfully. "Kindle a torch! quick, quick!"
"An' t' black mon," cried Hal o' Nabs, breathlessly, "t' black mon wur Nick Demdike?" "Yoan guest it," replied Ashbead, "'t wur he! Ey wur so glopp'nt, ey couldna speak, an' meh blud fruz i' meh veins, when ey heerd a fearfo voice ask Nick wheere his woife an' chilt were. 'The infant is unbaptised, roart t' voice, 'at the next meeting it must be sacrificed.
"It is not my fault if he perishes now," observed Demdike, moodily. "Help him help him!" implored Bess. "He shanna touch meh," cried Ashbead, struggling and increasing the effusion. "Keep him off, ey adjure thee. Farewell, Bess," he added, sinking back utterly exhausted by the effort. "Cuthbert!" screamed Bess, terrified by his looks, "Cuthbert! art thou really dying? Look at me, speak to me!
"This must be prevented," muttered a voice near them. And immediately afterwards a tall man quitted the group. "Whoa wor it spoake?" cried Hal o' Nabs. "Oh, ey seen, that he-witch, Nick Demdike." "Nick Demdike here!" cried Ashbead, looking round in alarm. "Has he owerheert us?" "Loike enow," replied Hal o' Nabs. "But ey didna moind him efore."
She was gone to her account before him. The malediction he had pronounced upon her child had killed her. Appalled, he turned to the other bier, and recognised Cuthbert Ashbead. He shuddered, but comforted himself that he was at least guiltless of his death; though he had a strange feeling that the poor forester had in some way perished for him.
"Good lorjus deys!" cried Hal o' Nabs. "An whot else didsta see, mon?" "Whoy," replied Ashbead, "t'owd hags had a little figure i' t' midst on 'em, mowded i' cley, representing t' abbut o' Whalley, ey knoad it be't moitre and crosier, an efter each o' t' varment had stickt a pin i' its 'eart, a tall black mon stepped for'ard, an teed a cord rownd its throttle, an hongt it up."
"Down o' yer whirlybooans, lads, as t' oly feythers pass," cried Ashbead, "and crave their blessing." And as the priestly train slowly approached, with heads bowed down, and looks fixed sadly upon the ground, the rustic assemblage fell upon their knees, and implored their benediction.
Alack! alack! they now need the charity themselves which they once so lavishly bestowed on others." "Waes me!" ejaculated Ashbead. "Monry a broad merk han ey getten fro 'em." "They'n been koind to us aw," added the others. "Next come Father Burnley, granger, and Father Haworth, cellarer," pursued the monk; "and after them Father Dinkley, sacristan, and Father Moore, porter."
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