ned the ears of
the lookers-on, and several missiles had been hurled at Demdike, some of
which took effect, though without occasioning discomfiture; but when
the abbot appeared above the heads of the guard, the tumult instantly
subsided, and profound silence ensued. Not a breath was drawn by the
spectators. The ravens alone continued their ominous croaking.

Hal o' Nabs, who stood on the outskirts of the ring, saw thus far but he
could bear it no longer, and rushed down the hill. Just as he reached
the level ground, a culverin was fired from the gateway, and the next
moment a loud wailing cry bursting from the mob told that the abbot was
launched into eternity.

Hal would not look back, but went slowly on, and presently afterwards
other horrid sounds dinned in his ears, telling that all was over with
the two other sufferers. Sickened and faint, he leaned against a wall
for support. How long he continued thus, he knew not, but he heard the
cavalcade coming down the hill, and saw the Earl of Derby and his
attendants ride past. Glancing toward the place of execution, Hal then
perceived that the abbot had been cut down, and, rousing himself, he
joined the crowd now rushing towards the gate, and ascertained that the
body of Paslew was to be taken to the convent church, and deposited
there till orders were to be given respecting its interment. He learnt,
also, that the removal of the corpse was intrusted to Demdike. Fired by
this intelligence, and suddenly conceiving a wild project of vengeance,
founded upon what he had heard from the abbot of the wizard being proof
against weapons forged by men, he hurried to the church, entered it, the
door being thrown open, and rushing up to the gallery, contrived to get
out through a window upon the top of the porch, where he secreted
himself behind the great stone statue of Saint Gregory.

The information he had obtained proved correct. Ere long a mournful
train approached the church, and a bier was set down before the porch. A
black hood covered the face of the dead, but the vestments showed that
it was the body of Paslew.

At the head of the bearers was Demdike, and when the body was set down
he advanced towards it, and, removing the hood, gazed at the livid and
distorted features.

"At length I am fully avenged," he said.

"And Abbot Paslew, also," cried a voice above him.

Demdike looked up, but the look was his last, for the ponderous statue
of Saint Gregory de Northbury, l