"Take it? Of course you will, dearie!" cried Mother Goodhugh; "and now look here, my child. I want something of thine to complete a little spell I have at work. Thou hadst a ribbon round thy neck when thou earnest to me." "Yes," said Janet, "a red one; Mas' Wat Kilby gave it to me." "Nay, then, child, that will not do. I only want an inch cut from it by thy left hand; but if it be tainted by an old man's love it would not do. Let me see. Thou hast not anything given thee by the young court gallant?" "No," said the girl. Then, with a hasty glance around, she whispered "I have a piece of lace he gave to Mistress Mace, and which she would not wear." "That will do, child; go, get me the tiniest scrap of that, and I will weave a spell that shall bring thee happiness and peace." Janet rose and opened the door, and listened. "They be all in the room," she whispered, as she closed the door again. "That be well. Be quick, child, and let me get out of this place." "Thou wilt not move while I am gone." "Nay, nay, child, not I; but harkye, leave the door ajar while thou art gone up stairs, so that if I hear a step that be not thine I may flee." Janet looked doubtful for a moment, and then turned to go. "I need not bring the whole piece?" she whispered. "Faith, no, child; I'll not rob you of it. The tiniest scrap be all I want. It must be something that the knight has touched." Janet nodded, and slipped out of the room, but ere she reached the staircase Mother Goodhugh was at the passage door listening; and, as the last stair creaked beneath the weak girl's tread, the old woman had glided into the passage, peered about by the light of the rush-candle burning on a stand, and uttered a grunt of disappointment. The next moment, though, she saw what she wanted, in the shape of a couple of keys hanging high up, close to the ceiling; and, stepping on a chair, she just reached them, and, lightly crept back along the passage to sit down in the kitchen, panting from exertion and excitement combined. Before she could compose herself Janet was back, too much excited herself to notice the old woman's hurried breathings. "I've got it," she cried, producing a handsome piece of lace. "I must cut some off here. Be quick; I be in such a fright for fear some one should come." "That will do, dearie," said the old woman, tearing off a scrap from one end. "There, put it away, and let me begone. Take the drops, child, and give thyself ease. You don't care for such love as his." Janet did not reply, but gladly opened the door to get rid of her unwelcome visitor, who stepped out into the dark night, and hurried away across the little bridge, and into the lane, where she turned to shake her stick at the peaceful-looking house, with its lighted windows. "Now we shall see--now we shall see!" she cried. "Two ways open, and my sayings coming to pass. There will be no wedding now." Volume 3, Chapter II. HOW CULVERIN CARK SEALED UP THE STORE.