Giles Dickisson, the merry miller at the Mill Clough, had so taken to heart his wife’s dishonesty that, as we have before observed, he grew fretful and morose.  His mill he vowed was infested with a whole legion of these “hell-cats,” as they were called; for in this shape they presented themselves to the affrighted eyes of the miserable yoke-fellow, as he fancied himself, to a limb of Satan.  The yells and screeches he heard o’nights from these witches and warlocks were unbearable; and once or twice, when late at the mill, both he and Robin had received some palpable tokens of their presence.  Scratches and bloody marks were plainly visible, and every hour brought with it some new source of annoyance or alarm.

One morning Giles showed himself with a disconsolate face before Lord William at the Tower; he could bear his condition no longer.

“T’other night,” said he, “the witches set me astride o’ t’ riggin’ o’ my own house.[42] It was a bitter cold time, an’ I was nearly perished when I wakened.  I am weary of my life, and will flit; for this country, the deil, I do think, holds in his own special keeping!”

Then Robin stept forward, offering to take the mill on his master’s quittance.  He cared not, he said, for all the witch-women in the parish.  He had “fettled” one of them, and, by his Maker’s help, he hoped fairly to drive them off the field.  The bargain was struck, and Robin that day entered into possession.

By a strange coincidence, this transaction happened on the eve of All-Hallows before mentioned; and Lord William requested that Robin would on that night keep watch.  His courage, he said, would help him through; and if he could rid the mill of them, the Baron promised him a year’s rent, and a good largess besides.  Robin was fain of the offer, and prepared himself for the strife, determined, if possible, to eject these ugly vermin from the premises.

On this same night, soon after sunset, the lady of Bernshaw Tower went forth, leaving her lord in a deep sleep, the effect, as it was supposed, of her own spells.  Ere she departed, every symbol or token of grace was laid aside;—­her rosary was unbound.  She drew a glove from her hand, and in it was the bridle ring, which she threw from her,—­when the flame of the lamp suddenly expired.  It was in her little toilet-chamber, where she had paused, that she might pursue her meditations undisturbed.  Her allegiance must be renewed, and revoked no more; but her pride, that darling sin for which she raised her soul, must first suffer.  On that night she must be guided by the same laws, and subjected to the same degrading influence, as her fellow-subjects.  At least once a year this condition must be fulfilled:—­all rank and distinction being lost, the vassals were alike equal in subordination to their chief.  On this night, too, the rights of initiation were usually administered.

The time drew nigh, and the Lady Sibyl, intending to conceal the glove with the sacred symbol, passed her hand on the table where it had lain—­but it was gone!