And making one or two passes with her hands, Mistress Nutter dropped the weapon, and instantly became fixed and motionless, with her daughter, equally rigid, in her arms. They looked as if suddenly turned to marble.
"Now to complete the ceremonial," cried Mother Demdike, picking up the knife.
And then she began to mutter an impious address preparatory to the sacrifice, when a loud clangour was heard like the stroke of a hammer upon a bell.
"What was that?" exclaimed the witch, in alarm.
"Were there a clock here, I should say it had struck one," replied Mould-heels.
"It must be our master's timepiece," said another witch.
"One o'clock!" exclaimed Mother Demdike, who appeared stupefied with fear, "and the sacrifice not made—then I am lost!"
A derisive laugh reached her ears. It proceeded from Mother Chattox, who had contrived to raise herself to her feet, and, tottering forward, now passed through the appalled circle.
"Ay, thy term is out—thy soul is forfeited like mine—ha! ha!" And she fell to the ground.
"Perhaps it may not be too late," cried Mother Demdike, grasping the knife, and rushing towards Alizon.