"Permission? Permission to visit your father on his sick-bed, perhaps on his death-bed?" repeated Tressilian impatiently. "And permission from whom? Amy, in the name of thy broken-hearted father, I command thee to follow me!"

As he spoke, he advanced and extended his arm, as with the purpose of laying hold upon her. But she shrunk back from his grasp, and uttered a scream which brought into the apartment Lambourne and Foster.

"Madam, fare you well!" said Tressilian. "What life lingers in your father's bosom will leave him at the news I have to tell."

He departed, the lady saying faintly as he left the room:

"Tressilian, be not rash. Say no scandal of me."

Tressilian pursued the first path through the wild and overgrown park in which the mansion of Foster was situated. At the postern, a cavalier, m.u.f.fled in his riding cloak, entered, and stood at once within four yards of him who was desirous of going out. They exclaimed, in tons of resentment and surprise, the one "Varney!" the other, "Tressilian!"

"What takes you here?" said Tressilian. "Are you come to triumph over the innocence you have destroyed? Draw, dog, and defend thyself!"

Tressilian drew his sword as he spoke, but Varney only replied:

"Thou art mad, Tressilian! I own appearances are against me, but by every oath Mistress Amy Robsart hath no injury from me!"

Tressilian forced him to draw, and Varney received a fall so sudden and violent that his sword flew several paces from his hand. Lambourne came up just in time to save the life of Varney, and Tressilian perceived it was madness to press the quarrel further against such odds.

"Varney, we shall meet where there are none to come betwixt us!"

So saying, he turned round, and departed through the postern door.

Varney, left alone, gave vent to his meditations in broken words. "She loves me not--I would it were as true that I loved not her! But she must not leave this retreat until I am a.s.sured on what terms we are to stand.

My lord's interest--and so far it is mine own, for if he sinks I fall in his train--demands concealment of this obscure marriage."

_II.--The Earl and the Countess_

At first, when the Earl of Leicester paid frequent visits to c.u.mnor, the Countess was reconciled to the solitude to which she was condemned. But when these visits became rarer and more rare, the brief letters of excuse did not keep out discontent and suspicion from the splendid apartments which love had once fitted up for beauty. Her answers to Leicester conveyed these feelings too bluntly, and pressed more naturally than prudently that she might be relieved from the obscure and secluded residence, by the Earl's acknowledgement of their marriage.

"I have made her Countess," Leicester said to his henchman Varney; "surely she might wait till it consisted with my pleasure that she should put on the coronet?"

The Countess Amy viewed the subject in directly an opposite light.

"What signifies," she said, "that I have rank and honour in reality, if I am to live an obscure prisoner, without either society or observance, and suffering in my character, as one of dubious or disgraced reputation?"

Leicester, high in Elizabeth's favour, dared not avow his marriage, and Varney was always at hand to paint the full and utter disgrace that would overwhelm him at the Court were the marriage known, and to spur his ambition to avoid the ruin of his fortunes.

Varney even prompted Leicester to invite the Countess to pa.s.s as Varney's wife, lest Elizabeth's jealousy should be aroused, and this suggestion and the knowledge that Varney desired her for himself (for he made no secret of his pa.s.sion), drove the Countess to escape from c.u.mnor and to seek her husband at Kenilworth, Janet Foster, her faithful attendant, at first suggested that the Countess should return home to her father, Sir Hugh Robsart, at Lidcote Hall, in Devonshire.

"No, Janet," said the lady mournfully; "I left Lidcote Hall while my heart was light and my name was honourable, and I will not return thither till my lord's public acknowledgement of our marriage restore me to my native home with all the rank and honour which he has bestowed on me. I will go to Kenilworth, girl. I will see these revels--these princely revels--the preparation for which makes the land ring from side to side. Methinks, when the Queen of England feasts within my husband's halls, the Countess of Leicester should be no unbeseeming guest."

"Dearest madam," said the maiden, "have you forgotten that the n.o.ble Earl has given such strict charges to keep your marriage secret, that he may preserve his Court favour? And can you think that your sudden appearance at his castle, at such a juncture, and in such a presence, will be acceptable to him?"

"I will appeal to my husband alone, Janet. I will be protected by him alone. I will see him, and receive from his own lips the directions for my future conduct. Do not argue against my resolution. And to own the truth, I am resolved to know my fate at once, and from my husband's own mouth; and to seek him at Kenilworth is the surest way to attain my purpose."

"May the blessing of G.o.d wend with you, madam," said Janet, kissing her mistress's hand.

_III.--At Kenilworth_

With pomp and magnificence, Leicester entertained the Queen at the Castle of Kenilworth. Of the Countess he saw nothing for some days, and Varney let it be thought that the unhappy lady who had made her way into the castle was his wife, while Amy, mindful of the alarm which Leicester had expressed at the Queen's knowing aught of their union, kept out of the way of her sovereign.

Then, on one memorable morning, when a hunt had been arranged, Leicester escorted the Queen to the castle garden, with another chase in view.

Without premeditation, but urged on by vanity and ambition, his importunity became the language of love itself.

"No, Dudley," said Elizabeth, yet with broken accents. "No, I must be the mother of my people. Urge it no more, Leicester. Were I, as others, free to seek my own happiness, then indeed--but it cannot be. It is madness, and must not be repeated. Leave me. Go, but go not far from hence; and meantime let no one intrude on my privacy."

The Queen turned into a grotto in which her hapless, and yet but too successful, rival lay concealed, and presently became aware of a female figure beside an alabaster column.

The unfortunate countess dropped on her knee before the queen, and looked up in the queen's face with such a mixed agony of fear and supplication, that Elizabeth was considerably affected.

"What may this mean?" she said. "Stand up, damsel, what wouldst thou have with us?"

"Your protection, madam," faltered the unfortunate countess. "I request--I implore--your gracious protection--against--against one Varney!"

"What, Varney--Sir Richard Varney--the servant of Lord Leicester? What are you to him, or he to you?"

"I was his prisoner, and I broke forth to--to--"

Amy hastily endeavoured to recall what were best to say which might save her from Varney without endangering her husband.

"To throw thyself on my protection, doubtless," said Elizabeth. "Thou art Amy, daughter of Sir Hugh Robsart. I must wring the story from thee by inches. Thou didst leave thine old and honoured father, cheat Master Tressilian of thy love, and marry this same Varney."

Amy sprung on her feet, and interrupted the queen eagerly with: "No, madam, no! As there is a G.o.d above us, I am not the wife of that contemptible slave--of that most deliberate villain! I am not the wife of Varney! I would rather be the bride of Destruction!"

The queen, startled by Amy's vehemence, replied: "Why, G.o.d, ha' mercy, woman! Tell me, for I _will_ know, whose wife, or whose paramour, art thou? Speak out, and be speedy. Thou wert better dally with a lioness than with Elizabeth!"

Urged to this extremity, Amy at length uttered in despair: "The Earl of Leicester knows it all!"

"The Earl of Leicester!" said Elizabeth, in astonishment. "The Earl of Leicester! Come with me instantly!"

As Amy shrunk back with terror, Elizabeth seized on her arm, and dragged the terrified countess to where Leicester stood--the centre of a splendid group of lords and ladies.

"Stand forth, my Lord of Leicester!" cried the queen.

Amy, thinking her husband in danger from the rage of an offended Sovereign, instantly forgot her own wrongs, and throwing herself before the queen, exclaimed, "He is guiltless, madam--he is guiltless; no one can lay aught to the charge of n.o.ble Leicester!"

"Why, minion," answered the queen, "didst not thou thyself say that the Earl of Leicester was privy to thy whole history?"

At that moment Varney rushed into the presence, with every mark of disorder.

"What means this saucy intrusion?" said Elizabeth.

Varney could only prostrate himself before her feet, exclaiming: "Pardon, my Liege, pardon! Or let your justice avenge itself on me; but spare my n.o.ble, my generous, my innocent patron and master!"