Alizon covered her face with horror.
After awhile she looked up, and exclaimed, with unutterable anguish—
"And I cannot help her!"
The unpitying hag laughed derisively.
"She cannot be utterly lost," continued the young girl. "Were I near her, I would show her that heaven is merciful to the greatest sinner who repents; and teach her how to regain the lost path to salvation."
"Peace!" thundered the witch, shaking her huge hand at her, and stamping her heavy foot upon the ground. "Such words must not be uttered here. They are an offence to me. Thy mother has renounced all hopes of heaven. She has been baptised in the baptism of hell, and branded on the brow by the red finger of its ruler, and cannot be wrested from him. It is too late."
"No, no—it never can be too late!" cried Alizon. "It is not even too late for you."
"Thou know'st not what thou talk'st about, foolish wench," rejoined the hag. "Our master would tear us instantly in pieces if but a thought of penitence, as thou callest it, crossed our minds. We are both doomed to an eternity of torture. But thy mother will go first—ay, first. If she had yielded thee up to-night, another term would have been allowed her; but as I hold thee instead, the benefit of the sacrifice will be mine. But, hist! what was that? The youth again! Alice Nutter must have given him some potent counter-charm."
"He comes to deliver me," cried Alizon. "Richard!"
And she arose, and would have flown to the window, but Mother Demdike waved her staff over her, and rooted her to the ground.