But she must
not--must not die in my house, and by so foul a practice. Thank God,
the operation of the potion is slow, and may be counteracted. I will
to her apartment once more. But oh! that hardened villain, whose
fidelity we held in such esteem, and had such high proof of! What
miracle can unite so much wickedness and so much truth in one bosom!"
The Lady of Lochleven was not aware how far minds of a certain gloomy
and determined cast by nature, may be warped by a keen sense of petty
injuries and insults, combining with the love of gain, and sense of
self-interest, and amalgamated with the crude, wild, and indigested
fanatical opinions which this man had gathered among the crazy
sectaries of Germany; or how far the doctrines of fatalism, which he
had embraced so decidedly, sear the human conscience, by representing
our actions as the result of inevitable necessity.
During her visit to the prisoner, Roland had communicated to Catherine
the tenor of the conversation he had had with her at the door of the
apartment. The quick intelligence of that lively maiden instantly
comprehended the outline of what was believed to have happened, but
her prejudices hurried her beyond the truth.
"They meant to have poisoned us," she exclaimed in horror, "and there
stands the fatal liquor which should have done the deed!--Ay, as soon
as Douglas ceased to be our taster, our food was likely to be fatally
seasoned. Thou, Roland, who shouldst have made the essay, wert
readily doomed to die with us.
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