For a while the abbot remained shattered and stupefied by this terrible
interview. At length he arose, and made his way, he scarce knew how, to
the oratory. But it was long before the tumult of his thoughts could be
at all allayed, and he had only just regained something like composure
when he was disturbed by hearing a slight sound in the adjoining
chamber. A mortal chill came over him, for he thought it might be
Demdike returned. Presently, he distinguished a footstep stealthily
approaching him, and almost hoped that the wizard would consummate his
vengeance by taking his life. But he was quickly undeceived, for a hand
was placed on his shoulder, and a friendly voice whispered in his ears,
"Cum along wi' meh, lort abbut. Get up, quick--quick!"
Thus addressed, the abbot raised his eyes, and beheld a rustic figure
standing beside him, divested of his clouted shoes, and armed with a
long bare wood-knife.
"Dunna yo knoa me, lort abbut?" cried the person. "Ey'm a freent--Hal o'
Nabs, o' Wiswall. Yo'n moind Wiswall, yeawr own birthplace, abbut? Dunna
be feert, ey sey. Ey'n getten a steigh clapt to yon windaw, an' you con
be down it i' a trice--an' along t' covert way be t' river soide to t'
mill."
But the abbot stirred not.
"Quick! quick!" implored Hal o' Nabs, venturing to pluck the abbot's
sleeve. "Every minute's precious. Dunna be feert. Ebil Croft, t' miller,
is below. Poor Cuthbert Ashbead would ha' been here i'stead o' meh if he
couldn; boh that accursed wizard, Nick Demdike, turned my hont agen him,
an' drove t' poike head intended for himself into poor Cuthbert's side.
They clapt meh i' a dungeon, boh Ebil monaged to get me out, an' ey then
swore to do whot poor Cuthbert would ha' done, if he'd been livin'--so
here ey am, lort abbut, cum to set yo free. An' neaw yo knoan aw abowt
it, yo con ha nah more hesitation. Cum, time presses, an ey'm feert o'
t' guard owerhearing us."
"I thank you, my good friend, from the bottom of my heart," replied the
abbot, rising; "but, however strong may be the temptation of life and
liberty which you hold out to me, I cannot yield to it. I have pledged
my word to the Earl of Derby to make no attempt to escape. Were the
doors thrown open, and the guard removed, I should remain where I am."
"Whot!" exclaimed Hal o' Nabs, in a tone of bitter disappointment; "yo
winnaw go, neaw aw's prepared. By th' Mess, boh yo shan. Ey'st nah go
back to Ebil empty-handed. If yo'n sworn to stay here, ey'n sworn to set
yo free, and ey'st keep meh oath. Willy nilly, yo shan go wi' meh, lort
abbut!"
"Forbear to urge me further, my good Hal," rejoined Paslew. "I fully
appreciate your devotion; and I only regret that you and Abel Croft have
exposed yourselves to so much peril on my account. Poor Cuthbert
Ashbead! when I beheld his body on the bier, I had a sad feeling that he
had died in my behalf."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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