"Down on your knees!" exclaimed Mistress Nutter.
Alizon obeyed, but ere a word could pass her lips, the infuriated hag, attended by her beldame band, stood beside them.
"Ha! who is here?" she cried. "Let me see who dares interrupt my mystic rites."
And raising her hand, the black cloud hanging over the hill was rent asunder, and the moon shone down upon them, revealing the old witch, armed with the sacrificial knife, her limbs shaking with fury, and her eyes flashing with preternatural light. It revealed, also, her weird attendants, as well as the group before her, consisting of the kneeling figure of Alizon, protected by the outstretched arms of her mother, and further defended by Mother Chattox, who planted herself in front of them.
Mother Demdike eyed the group for a moment as if she would, annihilate them.
"Out of my way, Chattox!" she vociferated—"out of my way, or I will drive my knife to thy heart." And as her old antagonist maintained her ground, she unhesitatingly advanced upon her, smote her with the weapon, and, as she fell to the ground, stepped over her bleeding body.
"Now what dost thou here, Alice Nutter?" she cried, menacing her with the reeking blade.
"I am come for my child, whom thou hast stolen from me," replied the lady.
"Thou art come to witness her slaughter," replied the witch, fiercely. "Begone, or I will serve thee as I have just served old Chattox."
"I am not sped yet," cried the wounded hag; "I shall live to see thee bound hand and foot by the officers of justice, and, certain thou wilt perish miserably, I shall die content."