"She declares that Alizon is not the daughter of Elizabeth Device," eried Dorothy Assheton.

"Indeed!" exclaimed Mistress Nutter, quickly, and as if a spring of extraordinary interest had been suddenly touched. "What reason hast thou for this assertion?"

"No good reason,” replied the old woman, evasively, yet with evident apprehension of her questioner.

"Good reason or bad, I will have it," cried Mistress Nutter.

"What you, too, take an interest in the wench like the rest?" returned Mother Chattox. "Is she so very winning?"

"That is no answer to my question," said the lady. she?"

66

"Whose child is

"Ask Bess Device, or Mother Demdike," replied Mother Chattox; they know more about the matter than me.'

"I will have thee speak, and to the purpose," cried the lady, angrily. "Many an one has lost a child who would gladly have it back again," said the old hag, mysteriously.

66

66

"Who has lost one?" asked Mistress Nutter. "Nay, it passeth me to tell," replied the old ignorance. Question those who stole her. I track. If you fail in pursuing it, come to me. find me."

"You shall not go thus," said Mistress Nutter. answer now."

woman, with affected have set you on the You know where to

"I will have a direct

And as she spoke she waved her hands twice or thrice over the old woman. In doing this her figure seemed to dilate, and her countenance underwent a marked and fearful change. All her beauty vanished, her eyes blazed, and terror sat on her wrinkled brow. The hag, on the contrary, crouched lower down, and seemed to dwindle less than her ordinary size. Writhing as from heavy blows, and with a mixture of malice and fear in her countenance, she cried, "Were I to speak, you would not thank me. Let me go."

"Answer," vociferated Mistress Nutter, disregarding the caution, and speaking in a sharp piercing voice, strangely contrasting with her ordinary utterance. "Answer, I say, or I will beat thee to the dust."

And she continued her gestures, while the sufferings of the old hag evidently increased, and she crouched nearer and nearer to the ground, moaning out the words, "Do not force me to speak. You will repent it!-you will repent it!"

"Do not torment her thus, madam," cried Alizon, who with Dorothy looked at the strange scene with mingled apprehension and wonderment. "Much as I desire to know the secret of my birth, I would not obtain it thus."

As she uttered these words, the old woman contrived to shuffle off, and disappeared behind the tomb.

"Why did you interpose, Alizon," cried Mistress Nutter, somewhat angrily, and dropping her hands. "You broke the power I had over her. I would have compelled her to speak."

"I thank you, gracious lady, for your consideration,” replied Alizon, gratefully; "but the sight was too painful."

"What has become of her-where is she gone?" cried Dorothy, peeping behind the tomb. "She has crept into this vault, I suppose.'

"Do not trouble yourself about her more, Dorothy," said Mistress Nutter, resuming her wonted voice and wonted looks. "Let us return to the house. Thus much is ascertained, Alizon, that you are no child of your supposed parent. Wait a little, and the rest shall be found out for you. And, meantime, be assured that I take strong interest in you." "That we all do," added Dorothy.

"Thank you! thank you!" exclaimed Alizon, almost overpowered. With this they went forth, and traversing the shafted aisle, quitted the conventual church, and took their way along the alley leading to the garden.

66

Say not a word at present to Elizabeth Device of the information you have obtained, Alizon," observed Mistress Nutter. "I have reasons for this counsel, which I will afterwards explain to you. And do you keep silence on the subject, Dorothy."

"May I not tell Richard?" said the young lady.

"Not Richard-not any one," returned Mistress Nutter, "or you may seriously affect Alizon's prospects."

"You have cautioned me in time," cried Dorothy, "for here comes my brother with our cousin Nicholas."

And as she spoke a turn in the alley showed Richard and Nicholas Assheton, advancing towards them.

A strange revolution had been produced in Alizon's feelings by the events of the last half hour. The opinions expressed by Dorothy Assheton, as to her birth, had been singularly confirmed by Mother Chattox; but could reliance be placed on the old woman's assertions? Might they not have been made with mischievous intent? And was it not possible, nay, probable, that, in her place of concealment behind the tomb, the vindictive hag had overheard the previous conversation with Dorothy, and based her own declaration upon it? All these suggestions occurred to Alizon, but the previous idea having once gained admission to her breast, soon established itself firmly there, in spite of doubts and misgivings, and began to mix itself up with new thoughts and wishes, with which other persons were connected; for she could not help fancying she might be well-born, and if so the vast distance heretofore existing between her and Richard Assheton might be greatly diminished, if not altogether removed. So rapid is the progress of thought, that only a few minutes were required for this long train of reflections to pass through her mind, and it was merely put to flight by the approach of the main object of her thoughts.

On joining the party, Richard Assheton saw plainly that something had happened; but as both his sister and Alizon laboured under evident embarrassment he abstained from making inquiries as to its cause for the present, hoping a better opportunity of doing so would occur, and the conversation was kept up by Nicholas Assheton, who described in his wonted lively manner the encounter with Mother Chattox and Nance Redferne, the swimming of the latter, and the trickery and punishment of Potts. During the recital Mistress Nutter often glanced uneasily at the two girls, but neither of them offered any interruption, until Nicholas had finished, when Dorothy taking her brother's hand, said, with a look of affectionate admiration, "You acted like yourself, dear Richard.”

Alizon did not venture to give utterance to the same sentiment, but her looks plainly expressed it.

"I only wished

you

had punished that cruel James Device as well as saved poor Nance," added Dorothy.

"Hush!" exclaimed Richard, glancing at Alizon.

"You need not be afraid of hurting her feelings," cried the young lady. "She does not mind him now."

"What do you mean, Dorothy?" cried Richard, in surprise.

"Oh, nothing-nothing," she replied, hastily.

"Perhaps you will explain," said Richard to Alizon.

"Indeed I cannot," she answered, in confusion.

"You would have laughed to see Potts creep out of the river," said Nicholas, turning to Dorothy; "he looked just like a drowned rat-ha! -ha!"

"You have made a bitter enemy of him, Nicholas," observed Mistress Nutter; "so look well to yourself."

"I heed him not," rejoined the squire; "he knows me now too well to meddle with me again, and I shall take good care how I put myself in his power. One thing I may mention, to show the impotent malice of the knave. Just as he was setting off, he said, 'This is not the only discovery of witchcraft I have made to-day. I have another case, nearer home.' What could he mean?"

"I know not," replied Mistress Nutter, a shade of disquietude passing over her countenance. "But he is quite capable of bringing the charge

against you or any of us."

"He is so," said Nicholas.

"After what has occurred, I wonder

whether he will go over to Rough Lee to-morrow."

"Very likely not," replied Mistress Nutter; "and in that case Master Roger Nowell must provide some other person competent to examine the boundary-line of the properties on his behalf."

"Then you are confident of the adjudication being in your favour?" said Nicholas.

"Quite so," replied Mistress Nutter, with a self-satisfied smile.

"The result, I hope, may justify your expectation," said Nicholas; "but it is right to tell you, that Sir Ralph, in consenting to postpone his decision, has only done so out of consideration to you. If the division of the properties be as represented by him, Master Nowell will unquestionably obtain an award in his favour."

"but you

"Under such circumstances, he may," said Mistress Nutter; will find the contrary turn out to be the fact. I will show you a plan I have had lately prepared, and you can then judge for yourself."

While thus conversing, the party passed through a door in the high stone wall dividing the garden from the court, and proceeded towards the principal entrance of the mansion. Built out of the ruins of the abbey, which had served as a very convenient quarry for the construction of this edifice, as well as for Portfield, the house was large and irregular, planned chiefly with the view of embodying part of the old abbot's lodging, and consisting of a wide front, with two wings, one of which looked into the court, and the other, comprehending the long gallery, into the garden. The old north-east gate of the abbey, with its lofty archway and embattled walls, served as an entrance to the great court-yard, and at its wicket ordinarily stood Ned Huddlestone, the porter, though he was absent on the present occasion, being occupied with the May-day festivities. Immediately opposite the gateway sprang a flight of stone

steps, with a double landing-place and a broad balustrade of the same material, on the lowest pillar of which was placed a large escutcheon sculptured with the arms of the family-argent, a mullet sable-with a rebus on the name-an ash on a tun. The great door to which these steps conducted stood wide open, and before it, on the upper landingplace, were collected Lady Assheton, Mistress Braddyll, Mistress Nicholas Assheton, and some other dames, laughing and conversing together. Some long-eared spaniels, favourites of the lady of the house, were chasing each other up and down the steps, disturbing the slumbers of a couple of fine bloodhounds in the court-yard; or persecuting the proud peafowl that strutted about to display their gorgeous plumage to the

spectators.

On seeing the party approach, Lady Assheton came down to meet them.

"You have been long absent," she said to Dorothy; "but I suppose you have been exploring the ruins?"

"Yes, we have not left a hole or corner unvisited," was the reply. "That is right," said Lady Assheton. "I knew you would make a good guide, Dorothy. Of course you have often seen the old conventual church before, Alizon ?"

"I am ashamed to say I have not, your ladyship," she replied. "Indeed!" exclaimed Lady Assheton; "and yet you have lived all your life in the village?"

"Quite true, your ladyship," answered Alizon; "but these ruins have been prohibited to me."

one."

"Not by us," said Lady Assheton; " they are open to every "I was forbidden to visit them by my mother," said Alizon. And for the first time the word "mother" seemed strange to her.

Lady Assheton looked surprised, but made no remark, and mounting the steps led the way to a spacious though not very lofty chamber, with huge uncovered rafters, and a floor of polished oak. Over a great fireplace at one side, furnished with immense andirons, hung a noble pair of antlers, and similar trophies of the chase were affixed to other parts of the walls. Here and there were likewise hung rusty skull-caps, breastplates, two-handed and single-handed swords, maces, halberts, and arquebusses, with chain-shirts, buff-jerkins, matchlocks, and other warlike implements, amongst which were several shields painted with the arms of the Asshetons and their alliances. High-backed chairs of gilt leather were ranged against the walls, and ebony cabinets inlaid with ivory were set between them at intervals, supporting rare specimens of glass and earthenware. Opposite the fireplace stood a large clock, curiously painted and decorated with emblematical devices, with the signs of the zodiac, and provided with movable figures to strike the hours on a bell; while from the centre of the roof hung a great chandelier of stag's horn.

197

THE JEW'S STORY.

IN one of my solitary rambles in a distant county of England, I chanced to find myself on the borders of a lonely wood, as evening fell. As I stood hesitating whether I should retrace my steps or penetrate into the mass of pathless forest, a figure crossed my way. It was one of those wanderers who may, at times, be seen in remote country roads; an old man, tall and gaunt, with a flowing beard, a turban on his head, and his limbs clothed in the loose garments common to the inhabitants of Oriental climes. He carried before him a small box, hanging by leathern straps from his shoulders, containing cinnamon and myrrh, saffron and cloves, and other grateful spices of the Indies and the Levant, with other ware of little value. The expression of his countenance, his brilliant eye, his aquiline profile, declared him to be a Jew. The rich blood of the children of Israel flowed beneath the dark complexion of eastern origin. He had wandered from a distant country, a very lovely clime, than which there are few so fair beneath the sun-from Anatolia. He stopped as he approached me, and turning towards me a countenance deeply lined by care and fatigue, he said, gently,

"Have you any wish to buy the wares I carry? Here are drugs, dried fruits, and pleasant spices. I have coffee from Mecca, gall from Sinoub, and figs from Aleppo. I have pretty trinkets-chains and rings."

I shook my head, and, as I was passing on, I fancied I noticed, in the dim light, that a tear trembled in the wanderer's eye. I stopped again, and said,

"You are ill and tired."

"I am poor," answered he, "but I was not always so. I am unhappy, but once was not; this is the eve of a festival held holy by the people of whom I am; I must pass it beneath the hedges or in the lone fields, for I am near none of my brethren."

"Your brethren?" I asked, inquisitively.

My fellow believers, I mean," he replied; "I am a Jew."

They say," I observed, anxious to testify an interest in the solitary wanderer, "that your brethren are kind one to the other."

"Sir," replied the Israelite, "the tie of common faith is a password between us; the rich will give food to his poor brother, the strong will lend an arm to the feeble, the happy will console the wretched. When I had wealth and strength and happiness, I hope I acted generously to my people."

"You were rich, once," I said, endeavouring to prove that my motive for inquiry was no impertinent sentiment.

"I was," he said, "but I have fallen."

"Your story has, perchance, been a strange one," I remarked; “I should like to hear it."

Suddenly, his manner changed. A thousand emotions seemed to be struggling in his breast and to check the current of his voice. At length, after a pause, he said,

"Sir, I will tell it at all times, it does me good. It matters not how far I go on my journey to-night. Let us walk on, however, and I will tell you all.