"You must leave your house on the instant--" "So they told me in the time of the plague," returned Lady Scrope, with a little, disdainful smile; "but I told them I should never die in my bed." "Madam, we cannot leave you here to perish in the flames," cried the youth, with some heat and excitement of manner.

"I would that you would come quietly with us, but if not I must needs--" and here he began to suit the action to the words, and to make as though he would creep along the ledge and gain the old woman's vantage ground, as, indeed, was his intention.
But he had hardly commenced this perilous transit before he felt himself pulled back by his father, who said, in a strange, muffled voice: "It is useless, Reuben; we can do nothing.

We must leave her to her fate.

Either she is truly a witch, as men say, or else her brain is turned by the fearsome sight." And Reuben, following his father's glance, saw that the redoubtable Lady Scrope had drawn forth a pistol from pocket or girdle, and was pointing it full at him, with a light in her eyes which plainly betokened her intention of using it if he dared to thwart her beyond a certain point.
When she saw the action of James Harmer, she smiled a sardonic smile.
"Farewell, gentlemen," she said, with a wave of her hand.

"I thank you for your good offices, and for your kindly thought for me.