"Her fate be mine," said Buckley, indignantly. "Her good or evil fortune I will share."
"Be it so. Thou hast made thy choice, and henceforth thou canst not complain."
She stretched out her two hands, one towards Clegg Hall, the abode of the maiden, and the other towards Buckley, her lover's paternal roof, from which a blue curl of smoke was just visible over the rising grounds beneath them.
"A doom and a curse to each," she muttered. "Your names shall depart, and your lands to the alien and the stranger. Your honours shall be trodden in the dust, and your hearths laid waste, and your habitations forsaken."
In this fearful strain she continued until Buckley cried out—
"Cease thy mumbling, witch. I'll have thee dealt with in such wise thy tongue shall find another use."
Turning upon him a look of scorn, she seemed to grow fiercer in her maledictions.
"Proud minion," she cried, "thou shalt die childless and a beggar!"
The cunning raven flapped his great heavy wings and seemed to croak an assent. He then hopped on his mistress' shoulder, and apparently whispered in her ear.
"Sayest thou so?" said the witch. "Then give it to me, Ralph."