"She wants too much money, and if I did silence her now she would be pestering me with claims for more, and threaten and harass me. No, mother; you have opened the battle again, so now let us see which of us is the stronger."

Hurrying to her father's room lest her mind should change, Anne had a long colloquy with him, introducing the subject of witchcraft incidentally.

"Sir Mark tells me, father, that his Majesty strongly approves of efforts being made to keep down witches in this country."

"Yes, my dear, so I heard Sir Mark say," replied Sir Thomas, putting on his carplike visage, and gaping and panting at his daughter, as his eyes stood out wide and round.

"Why should you not do something to commend yourself to the King?"

"But what could I do, child?" said Sir Thomas.

"True, there is nothing you could, unless you arrested Mother Goodhugh."

"You forbad it once, but the very thing!" cried Sir Thomas, eagerly.

"But she is not a witch," said Anne, dubiously.

"Nay, my child, but, according to his Majesty's book, she has all the signs of a witch in her."

"Indeed, father?"

"Yes, child, I have studied it all well, and can show you a dozen points wherein she answers to a witch. Anne, my child, she shall be seized and examined."

"I don't think I would, father. Such women are sure to say more than is quite true, and spit their venom at random. Better let her rest in peace."

"Nay, child, she shall be examined, and, if she says too much, she shall be gagged. I am not a man to be trifled with by a known and practised witch."

Next day Mother Goodhugh returned to her cottage from one of her many absences in the forest, full of bitterness against Mistress Anne.

"Does she think she be going to play with me?" muttered the old woman.

"Not she. I be not frightened of her threats now. Let her speak if she dares. I could tell strange tales against her if I liked, and I'll be paid. One hundred golden pounds she shall give me, or she shall not marry him; nay, that she shall not. Mother Goodhugh is stronger than they think." She chuckled, as she walked sharply up and down the little room, shaking her stick and then thumping the end upon the floor. "Nice tales could I tell. Mistress Anne Beckley would look well as my companion, and ha-ha-ha! ho-ho-ho! What would the fine, gay, gallant Sir Mark say to his sweet if he knew of the tricks and plans she had carried out. There would be an end to the wedding, and she dare not speak. What do you want here?"

"I came to see thee, Mother Goodhugh," said the founder, who had just raised the latch, and stood in the doorway.

"To see me," cried the old woman, fiercely. "What! hast come to be cursed again? But no, no, no; go away, man, go away, away," she said hurriedly, as she fell a trembling. "I don't want thee here."

"Mother Goodhugh," said the founder, sadly, "thou hast always looked upon me as an enemy."

"Yes, a bitter, cruel enemy," she cried, flinching from him. Then, with a malignant grin, she added, "But thou hast had to suffer too, Master Cobbe, and to know what it is to gnaw thy heart with pain."

"Yes, yes, woman, I know all that," said the founder, hastily; "but let us not talk of the by-gone, but of the future."

"What is my future to thee, Mas' Jeremiah Cobbe?" cried the old woman, suspiciously. "Go thy ways, and let me go mine."

"I came to tell thee that there is danger for thee, Mother Goodhugh.

They say that thou'rt a witch, and I came to bid thee go hence to some place where thou art not known."

"Who will harm me?" cried the old woman.

"Maybe Sir Thomas will have thee put in prison."

"She daren't do it--she daren't do it," cried the old woman, fiercely.

"I defy her--I defy her."

"The law dare do a good deal, Mother Goodhugh," said the founder, sadly.

"But take my advice: go from hence. I have ready for thee twenty gold pounds; they will keep thee for some time, and when they are gone I will give thee more. But go, and go at once, before it is too late."

The old woman's fingers were held out crooked and trembling to grasp the money, her eyes twinkling with eagerness; but ere the founder could place the coins therein she seemed to make a tremendous effort over herself, and snatched back her hands.

"Nay," she cried, "I will not go. Thou for one would'st get rid of me, and Mistress Anne hath sent thee, but I'll not be baulked of my revenge."

"I came not from Mistress Anne, good mother. It was from a talk with Master Peasegood that I came to-day."

"Yes, yes, I know," cried the old woman exultingly, "from Mas'

Peasegood, her friend. So I am to be sent away on a beggar's pittance, and forego my revenge. She be a clever girl, but she can't outwit me."

"I understand not thy sayings, mother," said the founder, wearily; "I only bid thee get hence, for the sake of thy poor dead husband and thy boy."

The founder said the words in all kindness, but they transformed Mother Goodhugh into a perfect fury; her eyes flashed, the foam stood upon her lips, and, mouthing and gibbering in impotent rage, she pointed to the door.

"Go," she shrieked at last, "and tell them who sent thee that Mother Goodhugh will stay in her place and defy them. Bid Mistress Anne have a care, and tell her that if Mother Goodhugh stands at the stake it will be back to back with the mincing, painting, and patching madam who came and bade her curse and destroy her rival at the Pool-house; who planned its destruction; who is a worse witch than I. Tell her all this, for I'll stay and defy her. Bid her do her worst."

"Silence, woman!" cried the founder, who gazed at her, horrified and startled at this outburst; "thou art mad."

"Mad? Ay, mad, if thou wilt; but wait and see. Tell her I'll stay-- tell her I'll stay and defy her. She don't know Mother Goodhugh yet, Jeremiah Cobbe; so wait and see."

"I shall not have long to wait, then," said the founder, gloomily. "It is thy own fault, woman, and God forgive thee for thy cursing and thy lies."

Mother Goodhugh had literally driven him from her room, to stand at the doorway fiercely gesticulating and threateningly waving her stick; but, as the founder spoke and drew back from her, a complete change came over the old woman: her eyes grew fixed, her jaw dropped, the stick fell from her hand, and she clung to the door-post, turning of a deadly white, for at that moment Sir Thomas Beckley, looking red, important, and accompanied by the village constable, a couple of assistants with a cart, and some dozen or two of the people, came slowly to the door.

The rustic constable held a document in his hand, which he tried to read to the woman, and dismally failed from want of erudition, even though prompted by Sir Thomas. He mumbled out, though, something about the heinous sin of witchcraft; and sovereign lord and King.

Then thrusting the document into his rough doublet, he caught the old woman by the wrist.

"No, no," she shrieked in agony, all her defiance gone, as she found herself face to face with the horrible reality. "No, no, I will not go."

"Come, thou must, Mother Goodhugh," said the constable; "and I warn thee that if thou begin'st any cursing against me and my men it will be the worse for thee."

"I will not go; I am innocent, Sir Thomas. Pray, Sir Thomas, don't let him. A poor weak widow woman. Pray, pray don't."

"An anointed witch thou art," said the justice, pompously. "Away with her."

"Nay, nay, Sir Thomas," cried the founder. "She is no witch; only a silly, half-mad creature."

"Yes, that he right," cried Mother Goodhugh, clinging frantically to one of the doorposts, "mad--mad with trouble, good Sir Thomas."

"Nay, woman, thy witchcrafts have stunk in my nostrils this many a day, and there is a long list of crimes for thee to expiate at the stake."

"Shame, Sir Thomas!" cried the founder, indignantly; "if any one has cause against her it is I."