Kenilworth - Page 230/408

"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."