but whot matters
it? Ey'st be gone soon. Ah, Bess, dear lass, if theawdst promise to
break thy compact wi' Satan--to repent and save thy precious sowl--ey
should dee content."

"Oh, do not talk thus!" cried Bess. "You will soon be well again."

"Listen to me," continued Ashbead, earnestly; "dust na knoa that if thy
babe be na bapteesed efore to-morrow neet, it'll be sacrificed to t'
Prince o' Darkness. Go to some o' t' oly feythers--confess thy sins an'
implore heaven's forgiveness--an' mayhap they'll save thee an' thy
infant."

"And be burned as a witch," rejoined Bess, fiercely. "It is useless,
Cuthbert; I have tried them all. I have knelt to them, implored them,
but their hearts are hard as flints. They will not heed me. They will
not disobey the abbot's cruel injunctions, though he be their superior
no longer. But I shall be avenged upon him--terribly avenged."

"Leave meh, theaw wicked woman." cried Ashbead; "ey dunna wish to ha'
thee near meh. Let meh dee i' peace."

"Thou wilt not die, I tell thee, Cuthbert," cried Bess; "Nicholas hath
staunched thy wound."

"He stawncht it, seyst to?" cried Ashbead, raising. "Ey'st never owe meh
loife to him."

And before he could be prevented he tore off the bandage, and the blood
burst forth anew.

"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! Ha!" she cried, as if seized by a
sudden idea, "they say the blessing of a dying man will avail. Bless my
child, Cuthbert, bless it!"

"Give it me!" groaned the forester.

Bess held the infant towards him; but before he could place his hands
upon it all power forsook him, and he fell back and expired.

"Lost! lost! for ever lost!" cried Bess, with a wild shriek.

At this moment a loud blast was blown from the gate-tower, and a
trumpeter called out,

"The abbot and the two other prisoners are coming."

"To thy feet, wench!" cried Demdike, imperiously, and seizing the
bewildered woman by the arm; "to thy feet, and come with me to meet
him!"

CHAPTER IV.--THE MALEDICTION.

The captive ecclesiastics, together with the strong escort by which they
were attended,