“Rest will restore her,” answered Varney. “She shall soon sleep sound and long. We must consider how to lodge her in safety.”
“In her own apartments, to be sure,” said Foster. “I have sent Janet to her aunt's with a proper rebuke, and the old women are truth itself—for they hate this lady cordially.”
“We will not trust them, however, friend Anthony,” said Varney; “We must secure her in that stronghold where you keep your gold.”
“My gold!” said Anthony, much alarmed; “why, what gold have I? God help me, I have no gold—I would I had!”
“Now, marry hang thee, thou stupid brute, who thinks of or cares for thy gold? If I did, could I not find an hundred better ways to come at it? In one word, thy bedchamber, which thou hast fenced so curiously, must be her place of seclusion; and thou, thou hind, shalt press her pillows of down. I dare to say the Earl will never ask after the rich furniture of these four rooms.”
This last consideration rendered Foster tractable; he only asked permission to ride before, to make matters ready, and spurring his horse, he posted before the litter, while Varney falling about threescore paces behind it, it remained only attended by Tider.
When they had arrived at Cumnor Place, the Countess asked eagerly for Janet, and showed much alarm when informed that she was no longer to have the attendance of that amiable girl.
“My daughter is dear to me, madam,” said Foster gruffly; “and I desire not that she should get the court-tricks of lying and 'scaping—somewhat too much of that has she learned already, an it please your ladyship.”
The Countess, much fatigued and greatly terrified by the circumstances of her journey, made no answer to this insolence, but mildly expressed a wish to retire to her chamber.
“Ay, ay,” muttered Foster, “'tis but reasonable; but, under favour, you go not to your gew-gaw toy-house yonder—you will sleep to-night in better security.”