“A hundred golden pounds, mistress,” cried the old woman, whose eyes sparkled at the very mention of so much money.
“A hundred pence,” cried Anne. “Go, get you gone, old crone. I’ll never part with a piece again for thy follies.”
“Have a care, mistress,” cried the old woman excitedly, for her anger was getting the better of her reason. “Thou art not Mark Leslie’s wife as yet, and some accident might happen to thee, too.”
“Mother Goodhugh,” cried Anne, “have a care. Thou art a marked woman.”
“I will have a care, my dearie, that if I am to suffer, thou shalt suffer too. I can place thee in prison if I am touched, so beware—beware.”
“Vile old hag,” cried Anne angrily; “Speak a word against me, and you shall bitterly repent it.”
“Rue it, eh! We’ll see; we’ll see,” cried the old woman, shaking her stick after the girl, as she hurried back, uneasy enough in her mind to suffer acutely, for Mother Goodhugh might throw obstacles in the way. She shuddered at the bare thought of what had happened on the eve of Mace’s wedding, but determined to risk all.
“If she speaks, no one will believe her,” cried Anne laughing. “She shall be seized for a witch, and she dare not charge me with helping her, for if she did it would only be accusing herself, and that she dare not do. Neither dare I let her be at liberty till I am dear Mark’s wife. After this she may do her worst.”
Full of this intent—for now that the old woman had obtruded herself once more upon her path, she really feared her—Anne hurried back towards the Moat, feeling anything but secure while Mother Goodhugh was at liberty. Her mind had been too much occupied of late during Sir Mark’s long visits to trouble herself about the old woman, and whatever thought she had had of the terrible night at the Pool-house had been gradually allowed to grow dull. The great thing had been that the wedding had been stayed, but, now that she thought the matter over, she felt sure that Mother Goodhugh had been guilty of some desperate deed; and to bring it home to herself—if the old woman would do such a thing for gain, might she not do it for revenge?
Anne shuddered and her brow grew cloudy as she felt that she could not set Mother Goodhugh aside as one that she need not fear. Sir Mark was not yet her husband, and what if some terrible catastrophe were to happen to prevent the wedding.