"Pooh! it is but Richard Varney."

"Ay, madam," said Varney, entering and saluting the lady with a
respectful obeisance, which she returned with a careless mixture of
negligence and of displeasure, "it is but Richard Varney; but even the
first grey cloud should be acceptable, when it lightens in the east,
because it announces the approach of the blessed sun."

"How! comes my lord hither to-night?" said the lady, in joyful yet
startled agitation; and Anthony Foster caught up the word, and echoed
the question. Varney replied to the lady, that his lord purposed to
attend her; and would have proceeded with some compliment, when, running
to the door of the parlour, she called aloud, "Janet--Janet! come to my
tiring-room instantly." Then returning to Varney, she asked if her lord
sent any further commendations to her.

"This letter, honoured madam," said he, taking from his bosom a small
parcel wrapped in scarlet silk, "and with it a token to the Queen of
his Affections." With eager speed the lady hastened to undo the silken
string which surrounded the little packet, and failing to unloose
readily the knot with which it was secured, she again called loudly on
Janet, "Bring me a knife--scissors--aught that may undo this envious
knot!"

"May not my poor poniard serve, honoured madam?" said Varney,
presenting a small dagger of exquisite workmanship, which hung in his
Turkey-leather sword-belt.

"No, sir," replied the lady, rejecting the instrument which he
offered--"steel poniard shall cut no true-love knot of mine."