Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 4, 2025
Her bosom rose quick and short, there was no other stressful sign; she was flushed rather than white. One of the men thought she was a wood-girl they all knew of such beings; he crossed himself. Another knew better. Her mother Mald was a noted witch; he whistled. A third thought she was uncommonly handsome; he could only look.
For even with power of life and member the law of the land has force, that neither man nor maid, witch nor devil, may be put lightly away." For this "put away" the Abbot thanked him with a look, and added, that she was suspected of witchcraft, seeing Mald her mother was a notorious witch, and the wench herself the byword and scorn of all the country-side.
The report fell in excellently with the Abbot's calculation. No one believed in the Isoult fable save Mald, whom the girl had seen once or twice, and himself; every one talked rather of the Chained Virgin of Saint Thorn. She became an object of pilgrimage. The Abbot grew to call her chamber the feretory; the faithful gave alms, particularly the seamen from Wanmouth.
"You may be near enough by to-morrow, if what I have learned be true." The girl's eyes grew larger and darker. "Are they going to hang me?" she asked. "Are you not a witch?" "It is said." "Your mother Mald is a witch eh?" "Yes, she is a witch." "And are not you? You know Deerleap eh?" "It is said that I do." "And you know what must be done to witches." "They will hang me, Dom Galors!
A horseman met him on the further bank, shouting. Prosper lowered his head and shot at him as from a catapult. The spear drove deep, the man threw his arms out, sobbed, and dropped like a stone. Prosper went on his race. It was growing dusk when he stood on the threshold of Matt's intake, battering at the door. The hag-ridden face of old Mald stared out.
You will remember the trinkets round her neck: Prosper's ring was one, the other was that which old Mald had felt for and found safe in her bosom on her wedding night. When, therefore, Mrs. Ursula came bridling into the light full of her recent victory, she saw the girl before her trembling, and holding out a gold chain at a stretch. "Lord's name, child, you'll catch your death," cried she.
On every important event of his life the poor man was harassed by exactions which Sir David Lyndsay has so keenly touched in his Satire of the Three Estates. Says the Pauper in the interlude: "Quhair will ye find that law, tell gif ye can, To tak thine ky, fra ane pure husbandman? Ane for my father, and for my wyfe ane uther, And the third cow, he tuke fra Mald my mother."
There were Rogerson and Cutlaw; there was Tom Sibby, the procuress. Mald also, a withered malignant old wife, who had once blighted a year's increase by her dealing with the devil. Here was stuff for gallows, pit and pillory, all dropping-ripe for the trick. He looked sideways at the great lady as he spoke of this creature, and saw that all was going exactly as he would wish it.
"Mother, I am Prosper, the husband of the Much-Desired. No murder have I done, though I have seen murder. And I have not my wife; but I believe she is with Galors." Old Mald came fawning out to him at this, and took his hands in her own trembling hands. "He passed an hour agone," said she. "He will do her no wrong till he hath her at High March, trust him for that.
"There was little more," said Mald, "for the monk pulled at her, and she went as she came." "Have they passed an hour gone?" said Prosper in a dry whisper. "Ah, and more." "God be with you," said he; "pray for her." "Pray!" mocked the crone in a rage; "and pray what will that do?" "No more than I, mother, just now. God is all about us. Farewell!" And he was gone amid flying peats.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking