This last commentary Jenny added to her tale, in resentment of her mistress's extreme and obstinate incredulity. She was instantly alarmed, however, by the effect which her news produced upon her young lady, an effect rendered doubly violent by the High-church principles and prejudices in which Miss Bellenden had been educated. Her complexion became as pale as a corpse, her respiration so difficult that it was on the point of altogether failing her, and her limbs so incapable of supporting her, that she sunk, rather than sat, down upon one of the seats in the hall, and seemed on the eve of fainting. Jenny tried cold water, burnt feathers, cutting of laces, and all other remedies usual in hysterical cases, but without any immediate effect. "God forgie me! what hae I done?" said the repentant fille-de-chambre. "I wish my tongue had been cuttit out!--Wha wad hae thought o' her taking on that way, and a' for a young lad?--O, Miss Edith--dear Miss Edith, haud your heart up about it, it's maybe no true for a' that I hae said--O, I wish my mouth had been blistered! A' body tells me my tongue will do me a mischief some day. What if my Leddy comes? or the Major?--and she's sitting in the throne, too, that naebody has sate in since that weary morning the King was here!--O, what will I do! O, what will become o' us!" While Jenny Dennison thus lamented herself and her mistress, Edith slowly returned from the paroxysm into which she had been thrown by this unexpected intelligence. "If he had been unfortunate," she said, "I never would have deserted him. I never did so, even when there was danger and disgrace in pleading his cause. If he had died, I would have mourned him--if he had been unfaithful, I would have forgiven him; but a rebel to his King,--a traitor to his country,--the associate and colleague of cut-throats and common stabbers,--the persecutor of all that is noble,--the professed and blasphemous enemy of all that is sacred,--I will tear him from my heart, if my life-blood should ebb in the effort!" She wiped her eyes, and rose hastily from the great chair, (or throne, as Lady Margaret used to call it,) while the terrified damsel hastened to shake up the cushion, and efface the appearance of any one having occupied that sacred seat; although King Charles himself, considering the youth and beauty as well as the affliction of the momentary usurper of his hallowed chair, would probably have thought very little of the profanation. She then hastened officiously to press her support on Edith, as she paced the hall apparently in deep meditation. "Tak my arm, madam; better just tak my arm; sorrow maun hae its vent, and doubtless"-- "No, Jenny," said Edith, with firmness; "you have seen my weakness, and you shall see my strength." "But ye leaned on me the other morning. Miss Edith, when ye were sae sair grieved."