Varney entered the room in the dress in which he had waited on his master that morning to court,the splendour of which made a strange contrast with the disorder arising from hasty riding during a dark night and foul ways.His brow bore an anxious and hurried expression,as one who has that to say of which he doubts the reception,and who hath yet posted on from the necessity of communicating his tidings.The Countess's anxious eye at once caught the alarm,as she exclaimed,You bring news from my lord,Master Varney--Gracious Heaven!is he ill?No,madam,thank Heaven!said Varney.Compose yourself,and permit me to take breath ere I communicate my tidings.No breath,sir,replied the lady impatiently;I know your theatrical arts.Since your breath hath sufficed to bring you hither,it may suffice to tell your tale--at least briefly,and in the gross.Madam,answered Varney,we are not alone,and my lord's message was for your ear only.Leave us,Janet,and Master Foster,said the lady;but remain in the next apartment,and within call.Foster and his daughter retired,agreeably to the Lady Leicester's commands,into the next apartment,which was the withdrawing-room.The door which led from the sleeping-chamber was then carefully shut and bolted,and the father and daughter remained both in a posture of anxious attention,the first with a stern,suspicious,anxious cast of countenance,and Janet with folded hands,and looks which seemed divided betwixt her desire to know the fortunes of her mistress,and her prayers to Heaven for her safety.Anthony Foster seemed himself to have some idea of what was passing through his daughter's mind,for he crossed the apartment and took her anxiously by the hand,saying,That is right--pray,Janet,pray;we have all need of prayers,and some of us more than others.Pray,Janet--I would pray myself,but I must listen to what goes on within--evil has been brewing,love--evil has been brewing.God forgive our sins,but Varney's sudden and strange arrival bodes us no good.Janet had never before heard her father excite or even permit her attention to anything which passed in their mysterious family;and now that he did so,his voice sounded in her ear--she knew not why--like that of a screech-owl denouncing some deed of terror and of woe.She turned her eyes fearfully towards the door,almost as if she expected some sounds of horror to be heard,or some sight of fear to display itself.
All,however,was as still as death,and the voices of those who spoke in the inner chamber were,if they spoke at all,carefully subdued to a tone which could not be heard in the next.At once,however,they were heard to speak fast,thick,and hastily;and presently after the voice of the Countess was heard exclaiming,at the highest pitch to which indignation could raise it,Undo the door,sir,I command you!--undo the door!--I will have no other reply!she continued,drowning with her vehement accents the low and muttered sounds which Varney was heard to utter betwixt whiles.What ho!without there!she persisted,accompanying her words with shrieks,Janet,alarm the house!--Foster,break open the door--I am detained here by a traitor!
Use axe and lever,Master Foster--I will be your warrant!It shall not need,madam,Varney was at length distinctly heard to say.If you please to expose my lord's important concerns and your own to the general ear,I will not be your hindrance.The door was unlocked and thrown open,and Janet and her father rushed in,anxious to learn the cause of these reiterated exclamations.
When they entered the apartment Varney stood by the door grinding his teeth,with an expression in which rage,and shame,and fear had each their share.The Countess stood in the midst of her apartment like a juvenile Pythoness under the influence of the prophetic fury.The veins in her beautiful forehead started into swoln blue lines through the hurried impulse of her articulation --her cheek and neck glowed like scarlet--her eyes were like those of an imprisoned eagle,flashing red lightning on the foes which it cannot reach with its talons.Were it possible for one of the Graces to have been animated by a Fury,the countenance could not have united such beauty with so much hatred,scorn,defiance,and resentment.The gesture and attitude corresponded with the voice and looks,and altogether presented a spectacle which was at once beautiful and fearful;so much of the sublime had the energy of passion united with the Countess Amy's natural loveliness.Janet,as soon as the door was open,ran to her mistress;and more slowly,yet with more haste than he was wont,Anthony Foster went to Richard Varney.
In the Truth's name,what ails your ladyship?said the former.
What,in the name of Satan,have you done to her?said Foster to his friend.