"Mother," whispered Anne, after a glance at the door, "I hardly believe in thy spells; but look, here is a golden piece for you. Ten more shall be yours if you can make Mace Cobbe unpleasing in Sir Mark's eyes when he comes back. He is not half gained yet, but with your help he can be won." "Make her unpleasing--her face?" said Mother Goodhugh, with a peculiar look. "Hush! I want to know nothing--I will not know anything, Mother Goodhugh. Only I say make her so that he shall care for her no more." "But how, child, how?" said the old woman, with a malicious grin. "Do you want me to teach you your trade?" cried Anne, sharply. "There, give me back my gold piece, and I'll go to one who can do my bidding." "Nay," cried the old woman, sharply; "I'll do it; but if I get into trouble thou must stand by me with Sir Thomas." "What if they want to burn thee for a witch!" said Mistress Anne. "Hush!" cried the old woman, "hush!" and she glanced hastily round, to see that they were not overheard. "Don't speak like that; the people might hear thee. Hist! some one is coming." Mistress Anne started up in alarm, as approaching footsteps were heard; and, obeying the old woman's pointing finger, she hid behind the blue-checked curtain, which shut off her bed, just as there was a tap on the door, and the innocent object of their machinations entered, basket in hand. "Why, it be thou, child," cried the old woman, in an ill-used tone. "Yes, mother; I've brought a few little things for thee." "Nay, I want them not, nor none of thy trade," cried the old woman; "I want them not;" but her glistening eyes told another tale. "There, set them down there," she continued, pointing to a side-table. "Suppose you open the basket and take them out yourself, mother," said Mace, smiling with an ingenuous look that might have disarmed the crone's resentment; but it seemed to have a reverse action, as she rose muttering and scowling, half-snatched the basket, and carried it beyond the curtain, to empty it of its contents. As she did so, the old woman's eyes encountered those of Mistress Anne, and a peculiar meaning look passed from one to the other, as Mace said aloud-- "I am thirsty with my walk, mother; can you give me a cup of water?" "Yes, child, yes," cried the old woman, hastily; and one of her hands stole towards a shelf over Mistress Anne's head, as she made believe to go on emptying the basket by making its lid creak loudly. Mistress Anne's eyes followed the old woman's hand, and she saw the skinny fingers close upon a phial, which she hastily hid in her breast, and then once more the eyes of the pair behind the curtain met in a meaning way, and the face of the hiding girl grew ghastly pale. "Wait a moment, child," grumbled Mother Goodhugh, "and I'll get thee a cup of water from the spring. There be thy basket, but bring no more such things to me; I hate them."