This last consideration rendered Foster tractable; he only asked permission to ride before, to make matters ready, and spurring his horse, he posted before the litter, while Varney falling about threescore paces behind it, it remained only attended by Tider.

When they had arrived at Cumnor Place, the Countess asked eagerly for Janet, and showed much alarm when informed that she was no longer to have the attendance of that amiable girl.

“My daughter is dear to me, madam,” said Foster gruffly; “and I desire not that she should get the court-tricks of lying and ’scaping—­somewhat too much of that has she learned already, an it please your ladyship.”

The Countess, much fatigued and greatly terrified by the circumstances of her journey, made no answer to this insolence, but mildly expressed a wish to retire to her chamber.

“Ay, ay,” muttered Foster, “’tis but reasonable; but, under favour, you go not to your gew-gaw toy-house yonder—­you will sleep to-night in better security.”

“I would it were in my grave,” said the Countess; “but that mortal feelings shiver at the idea of soul and body parting.”

“You, I guess, have no chance to shiver at that,” replied Foster.  “My lord comes hither to-morrow, and doubtless you will make your own ways good with him.”

“But does he come hither?—­does he indeed, good Foster?”

“Oh, ay, good Foster!” replied the other.  “But what Foster shall I be to-morrow when you speak of me to my lord—­though all I have done was to obey his own orders?”

“You shall be my protector—­a rough one indeed—­but still a protector,” answered the Countess.  “Oh that Janet were but here!”

“She is better where she is,” answered Foster—­“one of you is enough to perplex a plain head.  But will you taste any refreshment?”

“Oh no, no—­my chamber—­my chamber!  I trust,” she said apprehensively, “I may secure it on the inside?”

“With all my heart,” answered Foster, “so I may secure it on the outside;” and taking a light, he led the way to a part of the building where Amy had never been, and conducted her up a stair of great height, preceded by one of the old women with a lamp.  At the head of the stair, which seemed of almost immeasurable height, they crossed a short wooden gallery, formed of black oak, and very narrow, at the farther end of which was a strong oaken door, which opened and admitted them into the miser’s apartment, homely in its accommodations in the very last degree, and, except in name, little different from a prison-room.

Foster stopped at the door, and gave the lamp to the Countess, without either offering or permitting the attendance of the old woman who had carried it.  The lady stood not on ceremony, but taking it hastily, barred the door, and secured it with the ample means provided on the inside for that purpose.