"Marry kem eawt!" cried her mother, sharply, "yo'n getten fine feelings
wi' your larning fro t' good feythers, Dolly. Os ey said efore, ey wish
t' brat wur far enough."

"You forget it has no mother," suggested Dorothy, kindly.

"An naw great matter, if it hasn't," returned the miller's wife. "Bess
Demdike's neaw great loss."

"Is this Bess Demdike's child?" cried Paslew, recoiling.

"Yeigh," exclaimed the miller's wife. And mistaking the cause of
Paslew's emotion, she added, triumphantly, to her daughter, "Ey towd te,
wench, ot t' lort abbut would be of my way o' thinking. T' chilt has got
the witch's mark plain upon her. Look, lort abbut, look!"

But Paslew heeded her not, but murmured to himself:--

"Ever in my path, go where I will. It is vain to struggle with my fate.
I will go back and surrender myself to the Earl of Derby."

"Nah,--nah!--yo shanna do that," replied Hal o' Nabs, who, with the
miller, was close beside him. "Sit down o' that stoo' be t' fire, and
take a cup o' wine t' cheer yo, and then we'n set out to Pendle Forest,
where ey'st find yo a safe hiding-place. An t' ony reward ey'n ever ask
for t' sarvice shan be, that yo'n perform a marriage sarvice fo' me and
Dolly one of these days." And he nudged the damsel's elbow, who turned
away, covered with blushes.

The abbot moved mechanically to the fire, and sat down, while the