"Not there, not there, doctor! It is Dame Crombie's bedchamber," shouted
Hugh, most energetically. "Now Beelzebub defend me!" he muttered to
himself, perceiving that his exclamation had been a moment too late.
"Heavens! what do I see?" ejaculated Dr. Melmoth, lifting his hands, and
starting back from the entrance of the room. The three students pressed
forward; Mrs. Crombie and the servant-girl had been drawn to the spot by
the sound of Hugh's voice; and all their wondering eyes were fixed on poor
Ellen Langton.
The apartment in the midst of which she stood was dimly lighted by a
solitary candle at the farther extremity; but Ellen was exposed to the
glare of the three lamps, held by Hugh, his wife, and the servant-girl.
Their combined rays seemed to form a focus exactly at the point where they
reached her; and the beholders, had any been sufficiently calm, might have
watched her features in their agitated workings and frequent change of
expression, as perfectly as by the broad light of day. Terror had at first
blanched her as white as a lily, or as a marble statue, which for a moment
she resembled, as she stood motionless in the centre of the room. Shame
next bore sway; and her blushing countenance, covered by her slender white
fingers, might fantastically be compared to a variegated rose with its
alternate stripes of white and red.
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