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Updated: May 7, 2025
Nevertheless, I am glad the poor wench has got off." "She is safe within the church," said Potts, "and I command Master Richard, in the king's name, to let us pass. Beadle! Sharpshot, Sparshot, or whatever be your confounded name do your duty, sirrah. Enter the church, and bring forth the witch." "Ey darna, mester," replied Simon; "young mester Ruchot ud slit mey weasand os soon os look ot meh."
"Yeigh, squoire!" responded Sparshot, who had seized hold of Nance "hoo be safe enough." "Nan Redferne is no witch," said Richard Assheton, authoritatively. "Neaw witch, Mester Ruchot!" cried the beadle in amazement. "No more than any of these lasses around us," said Richard. "Release her, Sparshot." "I forbid him to do so, till she has been examined," cried a sharp voice.
Bound hand and foot in the painful posture before described, roughly and insolently handled on all sides, in peril of her life from the frightful ordeal to which she was about to be subjected, the miserable captive was borne along on the shoulders of Jem Device and Sparshot, her long, fine chestnut hair trailing upon the ground, her white shoulders exposed to the insolent gaze of the crowd, and her trim holiday attire torn to rags by the rough treatment she had experienced.
Probably this was done to give Jem a chance of escape, and if so, it was successful, for as the reeve pushed among his captors, and thrust Sparshot aside, the ruffian broke from them; and running with great swiftness across the moor, plunged into the clough, and disappeared.
"You may pledge yourself to that also, Sir Ralph." "She avows her guilt," cried Nowell. "I take you all to witness it." "I shall not forget it," said Sir Thomas Metcalfe. "Nor I nor I!" cried Sparshot, and two or three others of the attendants. "This girl is my prisoner," said Sir Thomas Metcalfe, dismounting, and advancing towards Alizon, "She is a witch, as well as the rest."
Notwithstanding this demonstration, Roger Nowell and his legal adviser were both very sanguine as to the result of the survey being in their favour, and Master Potts turned to ascertain from Sparshot that the two plans, which had been rolled up and consigned to his custody, were quite safe.
"Your pardon, Sir Ralph," observed Nowell; "the arrest must be formally made, and by a constable. Sparshot, execute your warrant." Upon this, the official, leaping from his horse, displayed his staff and a piece of parchment to Mistress Nutter, telling her she was his prisoner. The lady bowed her head. "Shan ey tee her hands, yer warship?" demanded the constable of the magistrate.
"Ye lien i' your teeth, Simon Sparshot!" cried Nance; regarding him furiously. "If the head were off, Simon, I don't see how the likeness to my poor brother could well be recognised," said Nicholas, with a half smile. "But let her be put to some mild trial weighed against the church Bible." "Be it so," replied Potts, jumping down; "but if that fail, we must have recourse to stronger measures.
Bess Whitaker owned an extensive farm-yard, provided with cow-houses, stables, and a large barn; and it was to the latter place that the two grooms proposed to repair with Sparshot and play a game at loggats on the clay floor. No one knew what had become of the reeve; for, on depositing the poor pedlar at the door of the hostel, he had mounted his horse and ridden away.
Elevated on the shoulders of Sparshot, Potts was soon on the summit of the wall, and was about to drop into the garden, when he heard a sound that caused him to suspend his intention. "What are you about to do, cousin Nicholas?" inquired Richard, as the word of assault was given by the magistrate. "Let loose Mistress Nutter's stag-hounds upon them," replied the squire.
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