Upon hearing of Lady Nithsdale's arrival, the duchess was seized with such a panic,--she so dreaded the notion of witnessing her despair,--that she suddenly quitted the apartment, and hastened to deny herself. Her husband, seeing her abruptly break from her company, anxiously followed to inquire the cause of her evident agitation. "I cannot see her," she exclaimed: "I could not bear to behold my poor cousin of Nithsdale's anguish. I have no power to save her, and I have not courage to contemplate the agony I cannot alleviate. Oh! make some excuse for me! I am weak and helpless; I cannot preach resignation. Alas! alas!" she continued, wringing her hands, "I know too well what must be her feelings; I am too well aware of what a nature is her devotion to her lord; it would be mockery in me to bid her be patient,--to tell her time will temper her despair. I know it will not: I could but feed her grief! It must be some stronger, firmer mind than mine that dare face such agony as hers!" Even while she spoke, the servants, who had not understood the order to deny their mistress, and who were accustomed at all hours to admit Lady Nithsdale, entered the apartment to inform her grace that the countess was below. "What shall I do?" exclaimed the duchess, in dismay. "Go to her, dear Christian," answered the duke; "though you may not be able to inspire her with firmness to bear such affliction, your sympathy must soothe." "Oh, that is true! Yes, I will go to her, poor soul! Assuredly I would rather die than be unkind; and have I not promised she should always find a friend in Christian Montrose. But if you knew how fearful her grief is when she is so resolutely calm, you would not wonder that I shrink from seeing her under her present circumstances." The duchess slowly, hesitatingly, descended, and fearfully entered the apartment where Lady Nithsdale awaited her. Instead of the harrowing image of despair, which the duchess had pictured to herself, she saw the countess with glowing cheeks and a countenance brilliant with joy, who rushed into her arms in her ecstasy of delight. The duchess stood appalled. She apprehended that her cousin's troubles had, indeed, unsettled her reason, and that it was the light of madness which flashed from her eye. She shrank in fear and amazement. "He is safe!" exclaimed the countess. "My husband is in freedom!--he is restored to me!" "My gentle cousin, my sweet Winifred!--Alas! you are not well; be seated, and let me entreat you to compose yourself!"