"Come with me, and I will lead you to her," replied Fancy, taking her hand; "and do you keep close to us, mistress," he added to Mother Chattox.
Moving quickly along the heathy plain, they soon reached a small dry hollow, about a hundred paces from the beacon, in the midst of which, as in a grave, was deposited the inanimate form of Alizon. When the spot was indicated to her by Fancy, the miserable mother flew to it, and, with indescribable delight, clasped her child to her breast. But the next moment, a new fear seized her, for the limbs were stiff and cold, and the heart had apparently ceased to beat.
"She is dead!" exclaimed Mistress Nutter, frantically.
"No; she is only in a magical trance," said Fancy; "my mistress can instantly revive her."
"Prithee do so, then, good Chattox," implored the lady.
"Better defer it till we have taken her hence," rejoined the hag.
"Oh! no, now—now! Let me be assured she lives!" cried Mistress Nutter.
Mother Chattox reluctantly assented, and, touching Alizon with her skinny finger, first upon the heart and then upon the brow, the poor girl began to show symptoms of life.
"My child—my child!" cried Mistress Nutter, straining her to her breast; "I am come to save thee!"
"You will scarce succeed, if you tarry here longer," said Fancy. "Away!"