“It is a pity their miserable infant did not perish with them,” observed Holden.  “How much crime and misery would have been spared!”

“It was otherwise ordained,” replied Sudall.  “Bereft of her parents in this way, the infant was taken charge of and reared by Dame Croft, the miller’s wife of Whalley; but even in those early days she exhibited such a malicious and vindictive disposition, and became so unmanageable, that the good dame was glad to get rid of her, and sent her into the forest, where she found a home at Rough Lee, then occupied by Miles Nutter, the grandfather of the late Richard Nutter.”

“Aha!” exclaimed Potts, “was Mother Demdike so early connected with that family?  I must make a note of that circumstance.”

“She remained at Rough Lee for some years,” returned Sudall, “and though accounted of an ill disposition, there was nothing to be alleged against her at the time; though afterwards, it was said, that some mishaps that befell the neighbours were owing to her agency, and that she was always attended by a familiar in the form of a rat or a mole.  Whether this were so or not, I cannot say; but it is certain that she helped Miles Nutter to get rid of his wife, and procured him a second spouse, in return for which services he bestowed upon her an old ruined tower on his domains.”

“You mean Malkin Tower?” said Nicholas.

“Ay, Malkin Tower,” replied the chirurgeon.  “There is a legend connected with that structure, which I will relate to you anon, if you desire it.  But to proceed.  Scarcely had Bess Demdike taken up her abode in this lone tower, than it began to be rumoured that she was a witch, and attended sabbaths on the summit of Pendle Hill, and on Rimington Moor.  Few would consort with her, and ill-luck invariably attended those with whom she quarrelled.  Though of hideous and forbidding aspect, and with one eye lower set than the other, she had subtlety enough to induce a young man named Sothernes to marry her, and two children, a son and a daughter, were the fruit of the union.”

“The daughter I have seen at Whalley,” observed Potts; “but I have never encountered the son.”

“Christopher Demdike still lives, I believe,” replied the chirurgeon, “though what has become of him I know not, for he has quitted these parts.  He is as ill-reputed as his mother, and has the same strange and fearful look about the eyes.”

“I shall recognise him if I see him,” observed Potts.

“You are scarcely likely to meet him,” returned Sudall, “for, as I have said, he has left the forest.  But to return to my story.  The marriage state was little suitable to Bess Demdike, and in five years she contrived to free herself from her husband’s restraint, and ruled alone in the tower.  Her malignant influence now began to be felt throughout the whole district, and by dint of menaces and positive acts of mischief, she extorted all she required.  Whosoever refused her requests