Page:Waverley Novels, vol. 23 (1831).djvu/97

 even the rash carelessness of her temper, and though her cheek had grown pale at the first alarm, her eye was calm and almost scornful. "Will YOU taste this rare cordial, Master Foster? Perhaps you will not yourself refuse to pledge us, though you permit not Janet to do so. Drink, sir, I pray you."

"I will not," answered Foster.

"And for whom, then, is the precious beverage reserved, sir?" said the Countess.

"For the devil, who brewed it!" answered Foster; and, turning on his heel, he left the chamber.

Janet looked at her mistress with a countenance expressive in the highest degree of shame, dismay, and sorrow.

"Do not weep for me, Janet," said the Countess kindly.

"No, madam," replied her attendant, in a voice broken by sobs, "it is not for you I weep; it is for myself--it is for that unhappy man. Those who are dishonoured before man--those who are condemned by God--have cause to mourn; not those who are innocent! Farewell, madam!" she said hastily assuming the mantle in which she was wont to go abroad.

"Do you leave me, Janet?" said her mistress--"desert me in such an evil strait?"

"Desert you, madam!" exclaimed Janet; and running back to her mistress, she imprinted a thousand kisses on her hand--"desert you I--may the Hope of my trust desert me when I do so! No, madam; well you said the God you serve will open you a path for deliverance. There is