“Now, as I hope to hear lecture again,” replied Janet, “I will not go thither this night, unless I am better assured of my mistress's safety. Give me that flask, father”—and she took it from his reluctant hand, while he resigned it as if conscience-struck. “And now,” she said, “father, that which shall benefit my mistress, cannot do ME prejudice. Father, I drink to you.”
Foster, without speaking a word, rushed on his daughter and wrested the flask from her hand; then, as if embarrassed by what he had done, and totally unable to resolve what he should do next, he stood with it in his hand, one foot advanced and the other drawn back, glaring on his daughter with a countenance in which rage, fear, and convicted villainy formed a hideous combination.
“This is strange, my father,” said Janet, keeping her eye fixed on his, in the manner in which those who have the charge of lunatics are said to overawe their unhappy patients; “will you neither let me serve my lady, nor drink to her myself?”
The courage of the Countess sustained her through this dreadful scene, of which the import was not the less obvious that it was not even hinted at. She preserved even the rash carelessness of her temper, and though her cheek had grown pale at the first alarm, her eye was calm and almost scornful. “Will YOU taste this rare cordial, Master Foster? Perhaps you will not yourself refuse to pledge us, though you permit not Janet to do so. Drink, sir, I pray you.”
“I will not,” answered Foster.
“And for whom, then, is the precious beverage reserved, sir?” said the Countess.
“For the devil, who brewed it!” answered Foster; and, turning on his heel, he left the chamber.
Janet looked at her mistress with a countenance expressive in the highest degree of shame, dismay, and sorrow.
“Do not weep for me, Janet,” said the Countess kindly.
“No, madam,” replied her attendant, in a voice broken by sobs, “it is not for you I weep; it is for myself—it is for that unhappy man. Those who are dishonoured before man—those who are condemned by God—have cause to mourn; not those who are innocent! Farewell, madam!” she said hastily assuming the mantle in which she was wont to go abroad.