There was a burst of laughter at the coarse jest, but Master Peasegood strode into the cottage, took a rough earthenware vessel, and, parting the crowd, filled the mug from the clear cold spring, and held it to the wretched woman's lips. She drank with avidity, and then pressed her thin white lips to the hand that held the vessel, while her eyes gave a grateful look at the face. "Bless you," she said, in a hoarse whisper, and her lips kept moving quickly. "Quick," cried Sir Mark; "we are wasting time," and four of the men seized and carried the trembling creature to the stake, where a chain was hanging ready to bind her fast. But as it happened there was the chain but no means of fastening it, and impatiently throwing it aside they bound her with a cart-rope so that she was upright, for her limbs refused their task, and she had to be held as the rope was twisted round. "Mas' Cobbe, Mas' Cobbe!" cried Mother Goodhugh, in a hoarse wail. "Nay, go not nigh to her, Master Cobbe," cried Sir Thomas. "She will only curse thee again." For answer the founder, who could not tear himself from the spot, strode towards the stake. "I cannot save thee, Mother Goodhugh," he said, hoarsely. "Nay, but thou did'st try," said the poor creature, piteously. "Try and forgive me, Mas' Cobbe, for I be a wicked wretch. I have cursed thee, and the curse has fallen back on me. Mace, thy child, be--" "Stand aside, Master Cobbe," cried Sir Mark, imperiously. "Now, knaves, do your work quickly. Round with the faggots. Pile them higher, man, the brushwood first and the charcoal last. Quick, we are wasting time." The founder and Master Peasegood were thrust aside, and a part of the crowd pushed forward to help to build up from a stack at hand the brushwood and faggots round the wretched woman, who hung forward with drooping head, apparently insensible now from weakness and dread; and at last all was ready. A deep silence fell upon all. The morning sun shone more brightly than ever on the gay autumn woodlands, and the eager crowd that, open-mouthed and staring, awaited the fiery trial. "Will she screech?" whispered one matron, who had brought a child in arms to see the show, and who kept handing her little one clusters of the great blackberries that grew so plentifully upon the banks, "because if she do I shouldn't like to stay and hear her cry aloud." "Nay," said another, "she'll not squeal much; she'll take something to keep away the pains." "Think she will?" "Ay, that she will. She be an anointed witch. See how she lives. You never go to her place but there be meal in plenty, and sugar and bacon too. Where do it come from, eh?" "Nay, I d'now." "She makes it all with spells, and calls up plenty for what she wants. Eh, but she be a clever one. I've met her o' nights in the forest, going crouching along; and one night John Piper see her with a white sperrit, going along together hand in hand." "Eh, did he? What did he say?"