"Oh, do not do so, good my lady!" replied Janet; "leave him to God, who
punishes the wicked in His own time; but do not you cross Varney's path,
for so thoroughly hath he my lord's ear, that few have thriven who have
thwarted his courses."
"And from whom had you this, my most righteous Janet?" said the
Countess; "or why should I keep terms with so mean a gentleman as
Varney, being as I am, wife to his master and patron?"
"Nay, madam," replied Janet Foster, "your ladyship knows better than I;
but I have heard my father say he would rather cross a hungry wolf than
thwart Richard Varney in his projects. And he has often charged me to
have a care of holding commerce with him."
"Thy father said well, girl, for thee," replied the lady, "and I dare
swear meant well. It is a pity, though, his face and manner do little
match his true purpose--for I think his purpose may be true."
"Doubt it not, my lady," answered Janet--"doubt not that my father
purposes well, though he is a plain man, and his blunt looks may belie
his heart."
"I will not doubt it, girl, were it only for thy sake; and yet he has
one of those faces which men tremble when they look on. I think even thy
mother, Janet--nay, have done with that poking-iron--could hardly look
upon him without quaking."
"If it were so, madam," answered Janet Foster, "my mother had those who
could keep her in honourable countenance. Why, even you, my lady, both
trembled and blushed when Varney brought the letter from my lord."
"You are bold, damsel," said the Countess, rising from the cushions on
which she sat half reclined in the arms of her attendant. "Know that
there are causes of trembling which have nothing to do with fear.--But,
Janet," she added, immediately relapsing into the good-natured and
familiar tone which was natural to her, "believe me, I will do what
credit I can to your father, and the rather that you, sweetheart, are
his child. Alas! alas!" she added, a sudden sadness passing over her
fine features, and her eyes filling with tears, "I ought the rather to
hold sympathy with thy kind heart, that my own poor father is uncertain
of my fate, and they say lies sick and sorrowful for my worthless sake!
But I will soon cheer him--the news of my happiness and advancement will
make him young again. And that I may cheer him the sooner"--she wiped
her eyes as she spoke--"I must be cheerful myself. My lord must not find
me insensible to his kindness, or sorrowful, when he snatches a visit to
his recluse, after so long an absence. Be merry, Janet; the night wears
on, and my lord must soon arrive. Call thy father hither, and call
Varney also. I cherish resentment against neither; and though I may have
some room to be displeased with both, it shall be their own fault if
ever a complaint against them reaches the Earl through my means. Call
them hither, Janet."