St. George and St. Michael | Page 9

ripe enough
either in philosophy or religion for such meditations. Having executed
his task, for as such he regarded it, he turned to look through the
strange mixture of wisdom and credulity composing the volume. One
tale after another, of witch, and demon, and magician, firmly believed
and honestly recorded by his worthy relative, drew him on, until he sat
forgetful of everything but the world of marvels before him--to none of
which, however, did he accord a wider credence than sprung from the
interest of the moment. He was roused by a noise of quarrel in the
farmyard, towards which his window looked, and, laying aside reading,
hastened out to learn the cause.

CHAPTER III
.
THE WITCH.

It was a bright Autumn morning. A dry wind had been blowing all
night through the shocks, and already some of the farmers had begun to
carry to their barns the sheaves which had stood hopelessly dripping
the day before. Ere Richard reached the yard, he saw, over the top of
the wall, the first load of wheat-sheaves from the harvest-field, standing

at the door of the barn, and high-uplifted thereon the figure of Faithful
Stopchase, one of the men, a well-known frequenter of puritan
assemblies all the country round, who was holding forth, and that with
much freedom, in tones that sounded very like vituperation, if not
malediction, against some one invisible. He soon found that the object
of his wrath was a certain Welshwoman, named Rees, by her
neighbours considered objectionable on the ground of witchcraft,
against whom this much could with truth be urged, that she was so far
from thinking it disreputable, that she took no pains to repudiate the
imputation of it. Her dress, had it been judged by eyes of our day,
would have been against her, but it was only old-fashioned, not even
antiquated: common in Queen Elizabeth's time, it lingered still in
remote country places--a gown of dark stuff, made with a long waist
and short skirt over a huge farthingale; a ruff which stuck up and out,
high and far, from her throat; and a conical Welsh hat invading the
heavens. Stopchase, having descried her in the yard, had taken the
opportunity of breaking out upon her in language as far removed from
that of conventional politeness as his puritanical principles would
permit. Doubtless he considered it a rebuking of Satan, but forgot that,
although one of the godly, he could hardly on that ground lay claim to
larger privilege in the use of bad language than the archangel Michael.
For the old woman, although too prudent to reply, she scorned to flee,
and stood regarding him fixedly. Richard sought to interfere and check
the torrent of abuse, but it had already gathered so much head, that the
man seemed even unaware of his attempt. Presently, however, he began
to quail in the midst of his storming. The green eyes of the old woman,
fixed upon him, seemed to be slowly fascinating him. At length, in the
very midst of a volley of scriptural epithets, he fell suddenly silent,
turned from her, and, with the fork on which he had been leaning,
began to pitch the sheaves into the barn. The moment he turned his
back, Goody Rees turned hers, and walked slowly away.
She had scarcely reached the yard gate, however, before the cow-boy, a
delighted spectator and auditor of the affair, had loosed the fierce
watch-dog, which flew after her. Fortunately Richard saw what took
place, but the animal, which was generally chained up, did not heed his
recall, and the poor woman had already felt his teeth, when Richard got
him by the throat. She looked pale and frightened, but kept her

composure wonderfully, and when Richard, who was prejudiced in her
favour from having once heard Dorothy speak friendlily to her,
expressed his great annoyance that she should have been so insulted on
his father's premises, received his apologies with dignity and good faith.
He dragged the dog back, rechained him, and was in the act of
administering sound and righteous chastisement to the cow-boy, when
Stopchase staggered, tumbled off the cart, and falling upon his head,
lay motionless. Richard hurried to him, and finding his neck twisted
and his head bent to one side, concluded he was killed. The woman
who had accompanied him from the field stood for a moment uttering
loud cries, then, suddenly bethinking herself, sped after the witch.
Richard was soon satisfied he could do nothing for him.
Presently the woman came running back, followed at a more leisurely
pace by Goody Rees, whose countenance was grave, and, even to the
twitch about her mouth, inscrutable. She walked up to where the man
lay, looked at him for a moment or two as