My child was denied baptism, and became subject to the fiend." "Alas! alas!" exclaimed Paslew.
"And as if this were not injury enough," thundered Demdike, "you have called down a withering and lasting curse upon its innocent head, and through it transfixed its mother's heart.

If you had complied with that poor girl's request, I would have forgiven you your wrong to me, and have saved you." There was a long, fearful silence.

At last Demdike advanced to the abbot, and, seizing his arm, fixed his eyes upon him, as if to search into his soul.
"Answer me, John Paslew!" he cried; "answer me, as you shall speedily answer your Maker.

Can that malediction be recalled?
Dare not to trifle with me, or I will tear forth your black heart, and cast it in your face.

Can that curse be recalled?
Speak!" "It cannot," replied the abbot, half dead with terror.
"Away, then!" thundered Demdike, casting him from him.