"
"For a fool," replied the Lady of Lochleven, "thou hast counselled
wisely--I will bridle my resentment till their conference be over."
"God forbid, honoured Lady," said Doctor Lundin, "that you should
suppress it longer--nothing may more endanger the frame of your
honoured body; and truly, if there be witchcraft in this matter, it is
held by the vulgar, and even by solid authors on Demonology, that
three scruples of the ashes of the witch, when she hath been well and
carefully burned at a stake, is a grand Catholicon in such matter,
even as they prescribe _crinis canis rabidi_, a hair of the dog
that bit the patient, in cases of hydrophobia. I warrant neither
treatment, being out of the regular practice of the schools; but, in
the present case, there can be little harm in trying the conclusion
upon this old necromancer and quacksalver-_fiat experimentum_ (as
we say) _in corpore vili_."
"Peace, fool!" said the Lady, "she is about to speak."
At that moment Magdalen Graeme arose from her knees, and turned her
countenance on the Queen, at the same time advancing her foot,
extending her arm, and assuming the mien and attitude of a Sibyl in
frenzy. As her gray hair floated back from beneath her coif, and her
eye gleamed fire from under its shaggy eyebrow, the effect of her
expressive though emaciated features, was heightened by an enthusiasm
approaching to insanity, and her appearance struck with awe all who
were present. Her eyes for a time glanced wildly around as if seeking
for something to aid her in collecting her powers of expression, and
her lips had a nervous and quivering motion, as those of one who would
fain speak, yet rejects as inadequate the words which present
themselves.
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