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
i