him control. But at present he showed nothing
of that sullen consciousness of authority which he was wont to conceal
under a clumsy affectation of civility and deference, as a ruffian hides
his pistols and bludgeon under his ill-fashioned gaberdine. And yet it
seemed as if his smile was more in fear than courtesy, and as if, while
he pressed the Countess to taste of the choice cordial, which should
refresh her spirits after her late alarm, he was conscious of meditating
some further injury. His hand trembled also, his voice faltered, and his
whole outward behaviour exhibited so much that was suspicious, that his
daughter Janet, after she had stood looking at him in astonishment for
some seconds, seemed at once to collect herself to execute some
hardy resolution, raised her head, assumed an attitude and gait of
determination and authority, and walking slowly betwixt her father and
her mistress, took the salver from the hand of the former, and said in
a low but marked and decided tone, "Father, I will fill for my noble
mistress, when such is her pleasure."

"Thou, my child?" said Foster, eagerly and apprehensively; "no, my
child--it is not THOU shalt render the lady this service."

"And why, I pray you," said Janet, "if it be fitting that the noble lady
should partake of the cup at all?"

"Why--why?" said the seneschal, hesitating, and then bursting into
passion as the readiest mode of supplying the lack of all other
reason--"why, because it is my pleasure, minion, that you should not!
Get you gone to the evening lecture."

"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
ove