The wretched creature was seen for a moment to rise up in it in extremity of anguish, with arms extended, and uttering a dreadful yell, but the flames wreathed round her, and she sank for ever.
When those who had assisted at this fearful execution looked around for the mysterious being who had commanded it, they could nowhere behold him.
Then was heard a laugh of gratified hate—such a laugh as only a demon, or one bound to a demon, can utter—and the appalled listeners looked around, and beheld Mother Chattox standing behind them.
"My rival is gone!" cried the hag. "I have seen the last of her. She is burnt—ah! ah!"
Further triumph was not allowed her. With one accord, and as if prompted by an irresistible impulse, the men rushed upon her, seized her, and cast her into the fire.
Her wild laughter was heard for a moment above the roaring of the flames, and then ceased altogether.
Again the flame shot high in air, again roared and raged, again broke into a multitude of lambent points, after which it suddenly expired.
All was darkness on the summit of Pendle Hill.
And in silence and in gloom scarcely more profound than that Weighing in every breast, the melancholy troop pursued its way to Whalley.