"Alas! madam, whither would you fly, or by what means will you escape
from these walls?"
"I know not, Janet," said the unfortunate young lady, looking upwards!
and clasping her hands together, "I know not where I shall fly, or by
what means; but I am certain the God I have served will not abandon me
in this dreadful crisis, for I am in the hands of wicked men."
"Do not think so, dear lady," said Janet; "my father is stern and strict
in his temper, and severely true to his trust--but yet--"
At this moment Anthony Foster entered the apartment, bearing in his
hand a glass cup and a small flask. His manner was singular; for, while
approaching the Countess with the respect due to her rank, he had till
this time suffered to become visible, or had been unable to suppress,
the obdurate sulkiness of his natural disposition, which, as is usual
with those of his unhappy temper, was chiefly exerted towards those over
whom circumstances gave him control. But at present he showed nothing
of that sullen consciousness of authority which he was wont to conceal
under a clumsy affectation of civility and deference, as a ruffian hides
his pistols and bludgeon under his ill-fashioned gaberdine. And yet it
seemed as if his smile was more in fear than courtesy, and as if, while
he pressed the Countess to taste of the choice cordial, which should
refresh her spirits after her late alarm, he was conscious of meditating
some further injury. His hand trembled also, his voice faltered, and his
whole outward behaviour exhibited so much that was suspicious, that his
daughter Janet, after she had stood looking at him in astonishment for
some seconds, seemed at once to collect herself to execute some
hardy resolution, raised her head, assumed an attitude and gait of
determination and authority, and walking slowly betwixt her father and
her mistress, took the salver from the hand of the former, and said in
a low but marked and decided tone, "Father, I will fill for my noble
mistress, when such is her pleasure."
"Thou, my child?" said Foster, eagerly and apprehensively; "no, my
child--it is not THOU shalt render the lady this service."
"And why, I pray you," said Janet, "if it be fitting that the noble lady
should partake of the cup at all?"
"Why--why?" said the seneschal, hesitating, and then bursting into
passion as the readiest mode of supplying the lack of all other
reason--"why, because it is my pleasure, minion, that you should not!
Get you gone to the evening lecture."