A singular smile crossed the reeve’s countenance, but he made no observation.
“Unless the lady can turn aside streams, remove hills, and pluck up huge trees, we shall win,” pursued Potts, with a chuckle.
Again the reeve smiled, but he forebore to speak.
“You talk of marks, meres, and boundaries, Master Potts,” remarked Richard. “Are not the words synonymous?”
“Not precisely so, sir,” replied the attorney; “there is a slight difference in their signification, which I will explain to you. The words of the statute are ‘metas, meras, et bundas,’ — now meta, or mark, is an object rising from the ground, as a church, a wall, or a tree; mera, or mere, is the space or interval between the forest and the land adjoining, whereupon the mark may chance to stand; and bunda is the boundary, lying on a level with the forest, as a river, a highway, a pool, or a bog.”
“I comprehend the distinction,” replied Richard. “And now, as we are on this subject,” he added to the reeve, “I would gladly know the precise nature of your office?”
“My duty,” replied the other, “is to range daily throughout all the purlieus, or pourallees, as Master Potts more properly terms them, and disafforested lands, and inquire into all trespasses and offences against vert or venison, and present them at the king’s next court of attachment or swainmote. It is also my business to drive into the forest such wild beasts as have strayed from it; to attend to the lawing and expeditation of mastiffs; and to raise hue and cry against any malefactors or trespassers within the forest.”
“I will give you the exact words of the statute,” said Potts— ‘Si quis viderit malefactores infra metas forestæ, debet illos capere secundum posse suum, et si non possit; debet levare hutesium et clamorem.’ And the penalty for refusing to follow hue and cry is heavy fine.”
“I would that that part of your duty relating to the hock-sinewing, and lawing of mastiffs, could be discontinued,” said Richard. “I grieve to see a noble animal so mutilated.”
“In Bowland Forest, as you are probably aware, sir,” rejoined the reeve, “only the larger mastiffs are lamed, a small stirrup or gauge being kept by the master forester, Squire Robert Parker of Browsholme, and the dog whose foot will pass through it escapes mutilation.”
“The practice is a cruel one, and I would it were abolished with some of our other barbarous forest laws,” observed Richard.
While this conversation had been going on, the party had proceeded well on their way. For some time the road, which consisted of little more than tracts of wheels along the turf, led along a plain, thrown up into heathy hillocks, and then passing through a thicket, evidently part of the old forest, it brought them to the foot of a hill, which they mounted, and descended into another valley. Here they came upon Pendle Water, and while skirting its banks, could see at a great depth below, the river rushing over its rocky bed like an Alpine torrent. The scenery had now begun to assume a savage and sombre character. The deep rift through which the river ran was evidently the result of some terrible convulsion of the earth, and the rocky strata were strangely and fantastically displayed. On the further side the banks rose up precipitously, consisting for the most part of bare cliffs, though now and then a tree would root itself in some crevice. Below this the stream sank over a wide shelf of rock, in a broad full cascade, and boiled and foamed in the stony basin that received it, after which, grown less impetuous, it ran tranquilly on for a couple of hundred yards, and was then artificially restrained by a dam, which, diverting it in part from its course, caused it to turn the wheels of a mill. Here was the abode of the unfortunate Richard Baldwyn, and here had blossomed forth the fair flower so untimely gathered. An air of gloom hung over this once cheerful spot: its very beauty contributing to this saddening effect. The mill-race flowed swiftly and brightly on; but the wheel was stopped, windows and doors were closed, and death kept his grim holiday undisturbed. No one was to be seen about the premises, nor was any sound heard except the bark of the lonely watch-dog. Many a sorrowing glance was cast at this forlorn habitation as the party rode past it, and many a sigh was heaved for the poor girl who had so lately been its pride and ornament; but if any one had noticed the bitter sneer curling the reeve’s lip, or caught the malignant fire gleaming in his eye, it would scarcely have been thought that he shared in the general regret.
After the cavalcade had passed the mill, one or two other cottages appeared on the near side of the river, while the opposite banks began to be clothed with timber. The glen became more and more contracted, and a stone bridge crossed the stream, near which, and on the same side of the river as the party, stood a cluster of cottages constituting the little village of Rough Lee.
On reaching the bridge, Mistress Nutter’s habitation came in view, and it was pointed out by Nicholas to Potts, who contemplated it with much curiosity. In his eyes it seemed exactly adapted to its owner, and formed to hide dark and guilty deeds. It was a stern, sombre-looking mansion, built of a dark grey stone, with tall square chimneys, and windows with heavy mullions. High stone walls, hoary and moss-grown, ran round the gardens and courts, except on the side of the river, where there was a terrace overlooking the stream, and forming a pleasant summer’s walk. At the back of the house were a few ancient oaks and sycamores, and in the gardens were some old clipped yews.
Part of this ancient mansion is still standing, and retains much of its original character, though subdivided and tenanted by several humble families. The garden is cut up into paddocks, and the approach environed by a labyrinth of low stone walls, while miserable sheds and other buildings are appended to it; the terrace is wholly obliterated; and the grange and offices are pulled down, but sufficient is still left of the place to give an idea of its pristine appearance and character. Its situation is striking and peculiar. In front rises a high hill, forming the last link of the chain of Pendle, and looking upon Barrowford and Colne, on the further side of which, and therefore not discernible from the mansion, stood Malkin Tower. At the period in question the lower part of this hill was well wooded, and washed by the Pendle Water, which swept past it through banks picturesque and beautiful, though not so bold and rocky as those in the neighbourhood of the mill. In the rear of the house the ground gradually rose for more than a quarter of a mile, when it obtained a considerable elevation, following the course of the stream, and looking down the gorge, another hill appeared, so that the house was completely shut in by mountainous acclivities. In winter, when the snow lay on the heights, or when the mists hung upon them for weeks together, or descended in continuous rain, Rough Lee was sufficiently desolate, and seemed cut off from all communication with the outer world; but at the season when the party beheld it, though the approaches were rugged and difficult, and almost inaccessible except to the horseman or pedestrian, bidding defiance to any vehicle except of the strongest construction, still the place was not without a certain charm, mainly, however, derived from its seclusion. The scenery was stern and sombre, the hills were dark and dreary; but the very wildness of the place was attractive, and the old house, with its grey walls, its lofty chimneys, its gardens with their clipped yews, and its rook-haunted trees, harmonised well with all around it.
As the party drew near the house, the gates were thrown open by an old porter with two other servants, who besought them to stay and partake of some refreshment; but Roger Nowell haughtily and peremptorily declined the invitation, and rode on, and the others, though some of them would fain have complied, followed him.
Scarcely were they gone, than James Device, who had been in the garden, issued from the gate and speeded after them.
Passing through a close at the back of the mansion, and tracking a short narrow lane, edged by stone walls, the party, which had received some accessions from the cottages of Rough Lee, as well as from the huts on the hill-side, again approached the river, and proceeded along its banks.
The new-comers, being all of them tenants of Mrs. Nutter, and acting apparently under the direction
s of James Device, who had now joined the troop, stoutly and loudly maintained that the lady would be found right in the inquiry, with the exception of one old man named Henry Mitton; and he shook his head gravely when appealed to by Jem, and could by no efforts be induced to join him in the clamour.
Notwithstanding this demonstration, Roger Nowell and his legal adviser were both very sanguine as to the result of the survey being in their favour, and Master Potts turned to ascertain from Sparshot that the two plans, which had been rolled up and consigned to his custody, were quite safe.
Meanwhile, the party having followed the course of Pendle Water through the glen for about half a mile, during which they kept close to the brawling current, entered a little thicket, and then striking off on the left, passed over the foot of a hill, and came to the edge of a wide moor, where a halt was called by Nowell.
It being now announced that they were on the confines of the disputed property, preparations were immediately made for the survey; the plans were taken out of a quiver, in which they had been carefully deposited by Sparshot, and handed to Potts, who, giving one to Roger Nowell and the other to Nicholas, and opening his memorandum-book, declared that all was ready, and the two leaders rode slowly forward, while the rest of the troop followed, their curiosity being stimulated to the highest pitch.
Presently Roger Nowell again stopped, and pointed to a woody brake.
“We are now come,” he said, “to a wood forming part of my property, and which from an eruption, caused by a spring, that took place in it many years ago, is called Burst Clough.”
“Exactly, sir — exactly,” cried Potts; “Burst Clough — I have it here — landmarks, five grey stones, lying apart at a distance of one hundred yards or thereabouts, and giving you, sir, twenty acres of moor land. Is it not so, Master Nicholas? The marks are such as I have described, eh?”
“They are, sir,” replied the squire; “with this slight difference in the allotment of the land — namely, that Mistress Nutter claims the twenty acres, while she assigns you only ten.”
“Ten devils!” cried Roger Nowell, furiously. “Twenty acres are mine, and I will have them.”
“To the proof, then,” rejoined Nicholas. “The first of the grey stones is here.”
“And the second on the left, in that hollow,” said Roger Nowell. “Come on, my masters, come on.”
“Ay, come on!” cried Nicholas; “this perambulation will be rare sport. Who wins, for a piece of gold, cousin Richard?”
“Nay, I will place no wager on the event,” replied the young man.
“Well, as you please,” cried the squire; “but I would lay five to one that Mistress Nutter beats the magistrate.”
Meanwhile, the whole troop having set forward, they soon arrived at the second stone. Grey and moss-grown, it was deeply imbedded in the soil, and to all appearance had rested undisturbed for many a year.
“You measure from the clough, I presume, sir?” remarked Potts to Nowell.
“To be sure,” replied the magistrate; “but how is this? — This stone seems to me much nearer the clough than it used to be.”
“Yeigh, so it dun, mester,” observed old Mitton.
“It does not appear to have been disturbed, at all events,” said Nicholas, dismounting and examining it.
“It would seem not,” said Nowell— “and yet it certainly is not in its old place.”
“Yo are mistaen, mester,” observed Jem Device; “ey knoa th’ lond weel, an this stoan has stood where it does fo’ t’ last twenty year. Ha’n’t it, neeburs?”
“Yeigh — yeigh,” responded several voices.
“Well, let us go on to the next stone,” said Potts, looking rather blank.
Accordingly they went forward, the hinds exchanging significant looks, and Roger Nowell and Nicholas carefully examining their respective maps.
“These landmarks exactly tally with my plan,” said the squire, as they arrived at the third stone.
“But not with mine,” said Nowell; “this stone ought to be two hundred yards to the right. Some trickery has been practised.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed the squire; “these ponderous masses could never have been moved. Besides, there are several persons here who know every inch of the ground, and will give you their unbiassed testimony. What say you, my men? Are these the old boundary stones?”
All answered in the affirmative except old Mitton, who still raised a dissenting voice.
“They be th’ owd boundary marks, sure enough,” he said; “boh they are neaw i’ their owd places.”
“It is quite clear that the twenty acres belong to Mistress Nutter,” observed Nicholas, “and that you must content yourself with ten, Master Nowell. Make an entry to that effect, Master Potts, unless you will have the ground measured.”
“No, it is needless,” replied the magistrate, sharply; “let us go on.”
During this survey, some of the features of the country appeared changed to the rustics, but how or in what way they could not precisely tell, and they were easily induced by James Device to give their testimony in Mistress Nutter’s favour.
A small rivulet was now reached, and another halt being called upon its sedgy banks, the plans were again consulted.
“What have we here, Master Potts — marks or boundaries?” inquired Richard, with a smile.
“Both,” replied Potts, angrily. “This rivulet, which I take to be Moss Brook, is a boundary, and that sheepfold and the two posts standing in a line with it are marks. But hold! how is this?” he cried, regarding the plan in dismay; “the five acres of waste land should be on the left of the brook.”
“It would doubtless suit Master Nowell better if it were so,” said Nicholas; “but as they chance to be on the right, they belong to Mistress Nutter. I merely speak from the plan.”
“Your plan is naught, sir,” cried Nowell, furiously, “By what foul practice these changes have been wrought I pretend not to say, though I can give a good guess; but the audacious witch who has thus deluded me shall bitterly rue it.”
“Hold, hold, Master Nowell!” rejoined Nicholas; “I can make great allowance for your anger, which is natural considering your disappointment, but I will not permit such unwarrantable insinuations to be thrown out against Mistress Nutter. You agreed to abide by Sir Ralph Assheton’s award, and you must not complain if it be made against you. Do you imagine that this stream can have changed its course in a single night; or that yon sheepfold has been removed to the further side of it?”
“I do,” replied Nowell.
“And so do I,” cried Potts; “it has been accomplished by the aid of—”
But feeling himself checked by a glance from the reeve, he stammered out, “of — of Mother Demdike.”
“You declared just now that marks, meres, and boundaries, were unremovable, Master Potts,” said the reeve, with a sneer; “you have altered your opinion.”
The crestfallen attorney was dumb.
“Master Roger Nowell must find some better plea than the imputation of witchcraft to set aside Mistress Nutter’s claim,” observed Richard.
“Yeigh, that he mun,” cried James Device, and the hinds who supported him.
The magistrate bit his lips with vexation.
“There is witchcraft in it, I repeat,” he said.
“Yeigh, that there be,” responded old Mitton.
But the words were scarcely uttered, when he was felled to the ground by the bludgeon of James Device.
“Ey’d sarve thee i’ t’ same way, fo’ two pins,” said Jem, regarding Potts with a savage look.
“No violence, Jem,” cried Nicholas, authoritatively— “you do harm to the cause you would serve by your outrageous conduct.”
“Beg pardon, squoire,” replied Jem, “boh ey winna hear lies towd abowt Mistress Nutter.”
“No one shan speak ill on her here,” cried the hinds.
“Well, Master Nowell,” said Nicholas, “are you willing to concede the matter at once, o
r will you pursue the investigation further?”
“I will ascertain the extent of the mischief done to me before I stop,” rejoined the magistrate, angrily.
“Forward, then,” cried Nicholas. “Our course now lies along this footpath, with a croft on the left, and an old barn on the right. Here the plans correspond, I believe, Master Potts?”
The attorney yielded a reluctant assent.
“There is next a small spring and trough on the right, and we then come to a limestone quarry — then by a plantation called Cat Gallows Wood — so named, because some troublesome mouser has been hanged there, I suppose, and next by a deep moss-pit, called Swallow Hole. All right, eh, Master Potts? We shall now enter upon Worston Moor, and come to the hut occupied by Jem Device, who can, it is presumed, speak positively as to its situation.”
“Very true,” cried Potts, as if struck by an idea. “Let the rascal step forward. I wish to put a few questions to him respecting his tenement. I think I shall catch him now,” he added in a low tone to Nowell.
“Here ey be,” cried Jem, stepping up with an insolent and defying look. “Whot d’ye want wi’ me?”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 404
