"I conjure you, by all that is sacred, not to neglect him," said the old woman.
"I have already promised to do so," replied Judith, impatiently. "Good-night, mother."
"It will be a long good-night to me, I fear," returned the dame. "Doctor Hodges promised to send some blankets and medicine for poor Matthew. The doctor is a charitable man to the poor, and if he learns I am sick, he may, perhaps, call and give me advice."
"I am sure he will," replied Judith. "Should the man bring the blankets, I will tell him to acquaint his master with your condition. And now take this lantern, mother, and get home as fast as you can."
So saying, she almost pushed her out of the vault, and closed the door after her.
"At last I am rid of her," she muttered. "She would have been a spy over me. I hope I have frightened her into the plague. But if she dies of fear, it will answer my purpose as well. And now for my husband."
Taking up the lamp, and shading it with her hand, she gazed at his ghastly countenance.
"He slumbers tranquilly," she muttered, after contemplating him for some time, adding with a chuckling laugh, "it would be a pity to waken him."
And seating herself on a stool near the pallet, she turned over in her mind in what way she could best execute her diabolical purpose.
While she was thus occupied, the messenger from Doctor Hodges arrived with a bundle of blankets and several phials and pots of ointment. The man offered to place the blankets on the pallet, but Judith would not let him.