"I will lay no bet to that amount," said the mercer, something
sobered by an offer which intimated rather too private a knowledge on
Lambourne's part of the secret recesses of his shop. "I will lay no such
wager," he said; "but I will stake five angels against thy five, if thou
wilt, that Tony Foster will not leave his own roof, or come to ale-house
after prayer time, for thee, or any man."

"Content," said Lambourne.--"Here, uncle, hold stakes, and let one
of your young bleed-barrels there--one of your infant tapsters--trip
presently up to The Place, and give this letter to Master Foster, and
say that I, his ingle, Michael Lambourne, pray to speak with him at mine
uncle's castle here, upon business of grave import.--Away with thee,
child, for it is now sundown, and the wretch goeth to bed with the birds
to save mutton-suet--faugh!"

Shortly after this messenger was dispatched--an interval which was spent
in drinking and buffoonery--he returned with the answer that Master
Foster was coming presently.

"Won, won!" said Lambourne, darting on the stakes.

"Not till he comes, if you please," said the mercer, interfering.

"Why, 'sblood, he is at the threshold," replied Michael.--"What said he,
boy?"

"If it please your worship," answered the messenger, "he looked out of
window, with a musquetoon in his hand, and when I delivered your errand,
which I did with fear and trembling, he said, with a vinegar aspect,
that your worship might be gone to the infernal regions."

"Or to hell, I suppose," said Lambourne--"it is there he disposes of all
that are not of the congregation."

"Even so," said the boy; "I used the other phrase as being the more
poetical."

"An ingenious youth," said Michael; "shalt have a drop to whet thy
poetical whistle. And what said Foster next?"

"He called me back," answered the boy, "and bid me say you might come to
him if you had aught to say to him."

"And what next?" said Lambourne.

"He read the letter, and seemed in a fluster, and asked if your worship
was in drink; and I said you were speaking a little Spanish, as one who
had been in the Canaries."

"Out, you diminutive pint-pot, whelped of an overgrown reckoning!"
replied Lambourne--"out! But what said he then?"

"Why," said the boy, "he muttered that if he came not your worship would
bolt out what were better kept in; and so he took his old flat cap,
and threadbare blue cloak, and, as I said before, he will be here
incontinent."

"There is truth in what he said," replied Lambourne, as if speaking to
himself--"my brain has played me its old dog's trick. But corragio--let
him approach!--I have not rolled about in the world for many a day to
fear Tony Foster, be I drunk or sober.--Bring me a flagon of cold water
to christen my sack withal."

While Lambourne, whom the approach of Foster seemed to have recalled to
a sense of his own condition, was busied in preparing to receive him,
Giles Gosling stole up to the apartment of the pedlar, whom he found
traversing the room in much agitation.

"You withdrew yourself suddenly from the company," said the landlord to
the guest.

"It was time, when the devil became one among you," replied the pedlar.

"It is not courteous in you to term my nephew by such a name," said
Gosling, "nor is it kindly in me to reply to it; and yet, in some sort,
Mike may be considered as a limb of Satan."

"Pooh--I talk not of the swaggering ruffian," replied the pedlar; "it is
of the other, who, for aught I know--But when go they? or wherefore come
they?"

"Marry, these are questions I cannot answer," replied the host.
"But look you, sir, you have brought me a token from worthy Master
Tressilian--a pretty stone it is." He took out the ring, and looked at
it, adding, as he put it into his purse again, that it was too rich a
guerdon for anything he could do for the worthy donor. He was, he said,
in the public line, and it ill became him to be too inquisitive into
other folk's concerns. He had already said that he could hear nothing
but that the lady lived still at Cumnor Place in the closest seclusion,
and, to such as by chance had a view of her, seemed pensive and
discontented with her solitude. "But here," he said, "if you are
desirous to gratify your master, is the rarest chance that hath occurred
for this many a day. Tony Foster is coming down hither, and it is but
letting Mike Lambourne smell another wine-flask, and the Queen's command
would not move him from the ale-bench. So they are fast for an hour or
so. Now, if you will don your pack, which will be your best excuse, you
may, perchance, win the ear of the old servant, being assured of the
master's absence, to let you try to get some custom of the lady; and
then you may learn more of her condition than I or any other can tell
you."

"True--very true," answered Wayland, for he it was; "an excellent
device, but methinks something dangerous--for, say Foster should
return?"

"Very possible indeed," replied the host.

"Or say," continued Wayland, "the lady should render me cold thanks for
my exertions?"

"As is not unlikely," replied Giles Gosling. "I marvel Master Tressilian
will take such heed of her that cares not for him."

"In either case I were foully sped," said Wayland, "and therefore I do
not, on the whole, much relish your device."

"Nay, but take me with you, good master serving-man," replied mine host.
"This is your master's business, and not mine, you best know the risk
to be encountered, or how far you are willing to brave it. But that
which you will not yourself hazard, you cannot expect others to risk."

"Hold, hold," said Wayland; "tell me but one thing--goes yonder old man
up to Cumnor?"

"Surely, I think so?" said the landlord; "their servant said he was to
take their baggage thither. But the ale-tap has been as potent for him
as the sack-spigot has been for Michael."

"It is enough," said Wayland, assuming an air of resolution. "I will
thwart that old villain's projects; my affright at his baleful aspect
begins to abate, and my hatred to arise. Help me on with my pack, good
mine host.--And look to thyself, old Albumazar; there is a malignant
influence in thy horoscope, and it gleams from the constellation Ursa
Major."

So saying, he assumed his burden, and, guided by the landlord through
the postern gate of the Black Bear, took the most private way from
thence up to Cumnor Place.



CHAPTER XX.

     CLOWN. You have of these pedlars, that have more in'em than
     you'd think, sister.--WINTER'S TALE, ACT IV., SCENE 3.

In his anxiety to obey the Earl's repeated charges of secrecy, as well
as from his own unsocial and miserly habits, Anthony Foster was more
desirous, by his mode of housekeeping, to escape observation than to
resist intrusive curiosity. Thus, instead of a numerous household, to
secure his charge, and defend his house, he studied as much as possible
to elude notice by diminishing his attendants; so that, unless when
there were followers of the Earl, or of Varney, in the mansion, one
old male domestic, and two aged crones, who assisted in keeping the
Countess's apartments in order, were the only servants of the family.

It was one of these old women who opened the door when Wayland knocked,
and answered his petition, to be admitted to exhibit his wares to the
ladies of the family, with a volley of vituperation, couched in what is
there called the JOWRING dialect. The pedlar found the means of
checking this vociferation by slipping a silver groat into her hand, and
intimating the present of some stuff for a coif, if the lady would buy
of his wares.

"God ield thee, for mine is aw in littocks. Slocket with thy pack into
gharn, mon--her walks in gharn." Into the garden she ushered the pedlar
accordingly, and pointing to an old, ruinous garden house, said, "Yonder
be's her, mon--yonder be's her. Zhe will buy changes an zhe loikes
stuffs."

"She has left me to come off as I may," thought Wayland, as he heard the
hag shut the garden-door behind him. "But they shall not beat me,
and they dare not murder me, for so little trespass, and by this fair
twilight. Hang it, I will on--a brave general never thought of his
retreat till he was defeated. I see two females in the old garden-house
yonder--but how to address them? Stay--Will Shakespeare, be my friend in
need. I will give them a taste of Autolycus." He then sung, with a good
voice, and becoming audacity, the popular playhouse ditty,--

     "Lawn as white as driven snow,
     Cyprus black as e'er was crow,
     Gloves as sweet as damask roses,
     Masks for faces and for noses."

"What hath fortune sent us here for an unwonted sight, Janet?" said the
lady.

"One of those merchants of vanity, called pedlars," answered Janet,
demurely, "who utters his light wares in lighter measures. I marvel old
Dorcas let him pass."

"It is a lucky chance, girl," said the Countess; "we lead a heavy life
here, and this may while off a weary hour."

"Ay, my gracious lady," said Janet; "but my father?"

"He is not my father, Janet, nor I hope my master," answered the lady.
"I say, call the man hither--I want some things."

"Nay," replied Janet, "your ladyship has but to say so in the next
packet, and if England can furnish them they will be sent. There will
come mischief on't--pray, dearest lady, let me bid the man begone!"

"I will have thee bid him come hither," said the Countess;--"or stay,
thou terrified fool, I will bid him myself, and spare thee a chiding."

"Ah! well-a-day, dearest lady, if that were the worst," said Janet
sadly; while the lady called to the pedlar, "Good fellow, step
forward--undo thy pack; if thou hast good wares, chance has sent thee
hither for my convenience and thy profit."

"What may your ladyship please to lack?" said Wayland, unstrapping his
pack, and displaying its contents with as much dexterity as if he had
been bred to the trade. Indeed he had occasionally pursued it in the
course of his roving life, and now commended his wares with all the
volubility of a trader, and showed some skill in the main art of placing
prices upon them.

"What do I please to lack?" said the lady, "why, considering I have not
for six long months bought one yard of lawn or cambric, or one trinket,
the most inconsiderable, for my own use, and at my own choice, the
better question is, What hast thou got to sell? Lay aside for me that
cambric partlet and pair of sleeves--and those roundells of gold fringe,
drawn out with cyprus--and that short cloak of cherry-coloured fine
cloth, garnished with gold buttons and loops;--is it not of an absolute
fancy, Janet?"

"Nay, my lady," replied Janet, "if you consult my poor judgment, it is,
methinks, over-gaudy for a graceful habit."

"Now, out upon thy judgment, if it be no brighter, wench," said the
Countess. "Thou shalt wear it thyself for penance' sake; and I promise
thee the gold buttons, being somewhat massive, will comfort thy father,
and reconcile him to the cherry-coloured body. See that he snap them not
away, Janet, and send them to bear company with the imprisoned angels
which he keeps captive in his strong-box."

"May I pray your ladyship to spare my poor father?" said Janet.

"Nay, but why should any one spare him that is so sparing of his own
nature?" replied the lady.--"Well, but to our gear. That head garniture
for myself, and that silver bodkin mounted with pearl; and take off two
gowns of that russet cloth for Dorcas and Alison, Janet, to keep the old
wretches warm against winter comes.--And stay--hast thou no perfumes and
sweet bags, or any handsome casting bottles of the newest mode?"

"Were I a pedlar in earnest, I were a made merchant," thought Wayland,
as he busied himself to answer the demands which she thronged one on
another, with the eagerness of a young lady who has been long secluded
from such a pleasing occupation. "But how to bring her to a moment's
serious reflection?" Then as he exhibited his choicest collection of
essences and perfumes, he at once arrested her attention by observing
that these articles had almost risen to double value since the
magnificent preparations made by the Earl of Leicester to entertain the
Queen and court at his princely Castle of Kenilworth.

"Ha!" said the Countess hastily; "that rumour, then, is true, Janet."

"Surely, madam," answered Wayland; "and I marvel it hath not reached
your noble ladyship's ears. The Queen of England feasts with the noble
Earl for a week during the Summer's Progress; and there are many who
will tell you England will have a king, and England's Elizabeth--God
save her!--a husband, ere the Progress be over."

"They lie like villains!" said the Countess, bursting forth impatiently.

"For God's sake, madam, consider," said Janet, trembling with
apprehension; "who would cumber themselves about pedlar's tidings?"

"Yes, Janet!" exclaimed the Countess; "right, thou hast corrected me
justly. Such reports, blighting the reputation of England's brightest
and noblest peer, can only find currency amongst the mean, the abject,
and the infamous!"

"May I perish, lady," said Wayland Smith, observing that her violence
directed itself towards him, "if I have done anything to merit this
strange passion! I have said but what many men say."

By this time the Countess had recovered her composure, and endeavoured,
alarmed by the anxious hints of Janet, to suppress all appearance of
displeasure. "I were loath," she said, "good fellow, that our Queen
should change the virgin style so dear to us her people--think not of
it." And then, as if desirous to change the subject, she added, "And
what is this paste, so carefully put up in the silver box?" as she
examined the contents of a casket in which drugs and perfumes were
contained in separate drawers.

"It is a remedy, Madam, for a disorder of which I trust your ladyship
will never have reason to complain. The amount of a small turkey-bean,
swallowed daily for a week, fortifies the heart against those black
vapours which arise from solitude, melancholy, unrequited affection,
disappointed hope--"

"Are you a fool, friend?" said the Countess sharply; "or do you think,
because I have good-naturedly purchased your trumpery goods at your
roguish prices, that you may put any gullery you will on me? Who ever
heard that affections of the heart were cured by medicines given to the
body?"

"Under your honourable favour," said Wayland, "I am an honest man, and
I have sold my goods at an honest price. As to this most precious
medicine, when I told its qualities, I asked you not to purchase it, so
why should I lie to you? I say not it will cure a rooted affection
of the mind, which only God and time can do; but I say that this
restorative relieves the black vapours which are engendered in the body
of that melancholy which broodeth on the mind. I have relieved many with
it, both in court and city, and of late one Master Edmund Tressilian, a
worshipful gentleman in Cornwall, who, on some slight received, it was
told me, where he had set his affections, was brought into that state of
melancholy which made his friends alarmed for his life."

He paused, and the lady remained silent for some time, and then asked,
with a voice which she strove in vain to render firm and indifferent in
its tone, "Is the gentleman you have mentioned perfectly recovered?"

"Passably, madam," answered Wayland; "he hath at least no bodily
complaint."

"I will take some of the medicine, Janet," said the Countess. "I too
have sometimes that dark melancholy which overclouds the brain."

"You shall not do so, madam," said Janet; "who shall answer that this
fellow vends what is wholesome?"

"I will myself warrant my good faith," said Wayland; and taking a part
of the medicine, he swallowed it before them. The Countess now bought
what remained, a step to which Janet, by further objections, only
determined her the more obstinately. She even took the first dose upon
the instant, and professed to feel her heart lightened and her spirits
augmented--a consequence which, in all probability, existed only in
her own imagination. The lady then piled the purchases she had made
together, flung her purse to Janet, and desired her to compute the
amount, and to pay the pedlar; while she herself, as if tired of the
amusement she at first found in conversing with him, wished him good
evening, and walked carelessly into the house, thus depriving Wayland of
every opportunity to speak with her in private. He hastened, however, to
attempt an explanation with Janet.

"Maiden," he said, "thou hast the face of one who should love her
mistress. She hath much need of faithful service."

"And well deserves it at my hands," replied Janet; "but what of that?"

"Maiden, I am not altogether what I seem," said the pedlar, lowering his
voice.

"The less like to be an honest man," said Janet.

"The more so," answered Wayland, "since I am no pedlar."

"Get thee gone then instantly, or I will call for assistance," said
Janet; "my father must ere this be returned."

"Do not be so rash," said Wayland; "you will do what you may repent of.
I am one of your mistress's friends; and she had need of more, not that
thou shouldst ruin those she hath."

"How shall I know that?" said Janet.

"Look me in the face," said Wayland Smith, "and see if thou dost not
read honesty in my looks."

And in truth, though by no means handsome, there was in his physiognomy
the sharp, keen expression of inventive genius and prompt intellect,
which, joined to quick and brilliant eyes, a well-formed mouth, and an
intelligent smile, often gives grace and interest to features which are
both homely and irregular. Janet looked at him with the sly simplicity
of her sect, and replied, "Notwithstanding thy boasted honesty, friend,
and although I am not accustomed to read and pass judgment on such
volumes as thou hast submitted to my perusal, I think I see in thy
countenance something of the pedlar-something of the picaroon."

"On a small scale, perhaps," said Wayland Smith, laughing. "But this
evening, or to-morrow, will an old man come hither with thy father, who
has the stealthy step of the cat, the shrewd and vindictive eye of
the rat, the fawning wile of the spaniel, the determined snatch of the
mastiff--of him beware, for your own sake and that of your distress.
See you, fair Janet, he brings the venom of the aspic under the assumed
innocence of the dove. What precise mischief he meditates towards you I
cannot guess, but death and disease have ever dogged his footsteps. Say
nought of this to thy mistress; my art suggests to me that in her state
the fear of evil may be as dangerous as its operation. But see that
she take my specific, for" (he lowered his voice, and spoke low but
impressively in her ear) "it is an antidote against poison.--Hark, they
enter the garden!"

In effect, a sound of noisy mirth and loud talking approached the garden
door, alarmed by which Wayland Smith sprung into the midst of a thicket
of overgrown shrubs, while Janet withdrew to the garden-house that
she might not incur observation, and that she might at the same time
conceal, at least for the present, the purchases made from the supposed
pedlar, which lay scattered on the floor of the summer-house.

Janet, however, had no occasion for anxiety. Her father, his old
attendant, Lord Leicester's domestic, and the astrologer, entered
the garden in tumult and in extreme perplexity, endeavouring to quiet
Lambourne, whose brain had now become completely fired with liquor, and
who was one of those unfortunate persons who, being once stirred with
the vinous stimulus, do not fall asleep like other drunkards, but
remain partially influenced by it for many hours, until at length, by
successive draughts, they are elevated into a state of uncontrollable
frenzy. Like many men in this state also, Lambourne neither lost the
power of motion, speech, or expression; but, on the contrary, spoke with
unwonted emphasis and readiness, and told all that at another time he
would have been most desirous to keep secret.

"What!" ejaculated Michael, at the full extent of his voice, "am I to
have no welcome, no carouse, when I have brought fortune to your old,
ruinous dog-house in the shape of a devil's ally, that can change
slate-shivers into Spanish dollars?--Here, you, Tony Fire-the-Fagot,
Papist, Puritan, hypocrite, miser, profligate, devil, compounded of all
men's sins, bow down and reverence him who has brought into thy house
the very mammon thou worshippest."

"For God's sake," said Foster, "speak low--come into the house--thou
shalt have wine, or whatever thou wilt."

"No, old puckfoist, I will have it here," thundered the inebriated
ruffian--"here, AL FRESCO, as the Italian hath it. No, no, I will not
drink with that poisoning devil within doors, to be choked with the
fumes of arsenic and quick-silver; I learned from villain Varney to
beware of that."

"Fetch him wine, in the name of all the fiends!" said the alchemist.

"Aha! and thou wouldst spice it for me, old Truepenny, wouldst thou not?
Ay, I should have copperas, and hellebore, and vitriol, and aqua fortis,
and twenty devilish materials bubbling in my brain-pan like a charm to
raise the devil in a witch's cauldron. Hand me the flask thyself, old
Tony Fire-the-Fagot--and let it be cool--I will have no wine mulled at
the pile of the old burnt bishops. Or stay, let Leicester be king if
he will--good--and Varney, villain Varney, grand vizier--why,
excellent!--and what shall I be, then?--why, emperor--Emperor Lambourne!
I will see this choice piece of beauty that they have walled up here
for their private pleasures; I will have her this very night to serve my
wine-cup and put on my nightcap. What should a fellow do with two
wives, were he twenty times an Earl? Answer me that, Tony boy, you old
reprobate, hypocritical dog, whom God struck out of the book of life,
but tormented with the constant wish to be restored to it--you old
bishop-burning, blasphemous fanatic, answer me that."

"I will stick my knife to the haft in him," said Foster, in a low tone,
which trembled with passion.

"For the love of Heaven, no violence!" said the astrologer. "It cannot
but be looked closely into.--Here, honest Lambourne, wilt thou pledge me
to the health of the noble Earl of Leicester and Master Richard Varney?"

"I will, mine old Albumazar--I will, my trusty vender of ratsbane. I
would kiss thee, mine honest infractor of the Lex Julia (as they said
at Leyden), didst thou not flavour so damnably of sulphur, and such
fiendish apothecary's stuff.--Here goes it, up seyes--to Varney and
Leicester two more noble mounting spirits--and more dark-seeking,
deep-diving, high-flying, malicious, ambitious miscreants--well, I say
no more, but I will whet my dagger on his heart-spone that refuses to
pledge me! And so, my masters--"

Thus speaking, Lambourne exhausted the cup which the astrologer had
handed to him, and which contained not wine, but distilled spirits. He
swore half an oath, dropped the empty cup from his grasp, laid his hand
on his sword without being able to draw it, reeled, and fell without
sense or motion into the arms of the domestic, who dragged him off to
his chamber, and put him to bed.

In the general confusion, Janet regained her lady's chamber unobserved,
trembling like an aspen leaf, but determined to keep secret from the
Countess the dreadful surmises which she could not help entertaining
from the drunken ravings of Lambourne. Her fears, however, though they
assumed no certain shape, kept pace with the advice of the pedlar; and
she confirmed her mistress in her purpose of taking the medicine which
he had recommended, from which it is probable she would otherwise
have dissuaded her. Neither had these intimations escaped the ears
of Wayland, who knew much better how to interpret them. He felt much
compassion at beholding so lovely a creature as the Countess, and whom
he had first seen in the bosom of domestic happiness, exposed to the
machinations of such a gang of villains. His indignation, too, had been
highly excited by hearing the voice of his old master, against whom he
felt, in equal degree, the passions of hatred and fear. He nourished
also a pride in his own art and resources; and, dangerous as the task
was, he that night formed a determination to attain the bottom of the
mystery, and to aid the distressed lady, if it were yet possible. From
some words which Lambourne had dropped among his ravings, Wayland
now, for the first time, felt inclined to doubt that Varney had acted
entirely on his own account in wooing and winning the affections of this
beautiful creature. Fame asserted of this zealous retainer that he
had accommodated his lord in former love intrigues; and it occurred
to Wayland Smith that Leicester himself might be the party chiefly
interested. Her marriage with the Earl he could not suspect; but even
the discovery of such a passing intrigue with a lady of Mistress Amy
Robsart's rank was a secret of the deepest importance to the stability
of the favourite's power over Elizabeth. "If Leicester himself should
hesitate to stifle such a rumour by very strange means," said he to
himself, "he has those about him who would do him that favour without
waiting for his consent. If I would meddle in this business, it must
be in such guise as my old master uses when he compounds his manna of
Satan, and that is with a close mask on my face. So I will quit Giles
Gosling to-morrow, and change my course and place of residence as often
as a hunted fox. I should like to see this little Puritan, too, once
more. She looks both pretty and intelligent to have come of such a
caitiff as Anthony Fire-the-Fagot."

Giles Gosling received the adieus of Wayland rather joyfully than
otherwise. The honest publican saw so much peril in crossing the course
of the Earl of Leicester's favourite that his virtue was scarce able to
support him in the task, and he was well pleased when it was likely to
be removed from his shoulders still, however, professing his good-will,
and readiness, in case of need, to do Mr. Tressilian or his emissary any
service, in so far as consisted with his character of a publican.



CHAPTER XXI.

     Vaulting ambition, that o'erleaps itself,
     And falls on t'other side.        --MACBETH.

The splendour of the approaching revels at Kenilworth was now the
conversation through all England; and everything was collected at home,
or from abroad, which could add to the gaiety or glory of the prepared
reception of Elizabeth at the house of her most distinguished favourite,
Meantime Leicester appeared daily to advance in the Queen's favour. He
was perpetually by her side in council--willingly listened to in the
moments of courtly recreation--favoured with approaches even to familiar
intimacy--looked up to by all who had aught to hope at court--courted by
foreign ministers with the most flattering testimonies of respect
from their sovereigns,--the ALTER EGO, as it seemed, of the stately
Elizabeth, who was now very generally supposed to be studying the time
and opportunity for associating him, by marriage, into her sovereign
power.

Amid such a tide of prosperity, this minion of fortune and of the
Queen's favour was probably the most unhappy man in the realm which
seemed at his devotion. He had the Fairy King's superiority over his
friends and dependants, and saw much which they could not. The character
of his mistress was intimately known to him. It was his minute and
studied acquaintance with her humours, as well as her noble faculties,
which, joined to his powerful mental qualities, and his eminent external
accomplishments, had raised him so high in her favour; and it was that
very knowledge of her disposition which led him to apprehend at every
turn some sudden and overwhelming disgrace. Leicester was like a pilot
possessed of a chart which points out to him all the peculiarities of
his navigation, but which exhibits so many shoals, breakers, and reefs
of rocks, that his anxious eye reaps little more from observing them
than to be convinced that his final escape can be little else than
miraculous.

In fact, Queen Elizabeth had a character strangely compounded of the
strongest masculine sense, with those foibles which are chiefly supposed
proper to the female sex. Her subjects had the full benefit of her
virtues, which far predominated over her weaknesses; but her courtiers,
and those about her person, had often to sustain sudden and embarrassing
turns of caprice, and the sallies of a temper which was both jealous and
despotic. She was the nursing-mother of her people, but she was also
the true daughter of Henry VIII.; and though early sufferings and an
excellent education had repressed and modified, they had not altogether
destroyed, the hereditary temper of that "hard-ruled king." "Her mind,"
says her witty godson, Sir John Harrington, who had experienced both the
smiles and the frowns which he describes, "was ofttime like the gentle
air that cometh from the western point in a summer's morn--'twas sweet
and refreshing to all around her. Her speech did win all affections. And
again, she could put forth such alterations, when obedience was lacking,
as left no doubting WHOSE daughter she was. When she smiled, it was a
pure sunshine, that every one did choose to bask in, if they could; but
anon came a storm from a sudden gathering of clouds, and the thunder
fell in a wondrous manner on all alike." [Nugae Antiquae, vol.i.,
pp.355, 356-362.]

This variability of disposition, as Leicester well knew, was chiefly
formidable to those who had a share in the Queen's affections, and
who depended rather on her personal regard than on the indispensable
services which they could render to her councils and her crown. The
favour of Burleigh or of Walsingham, of a description far less striking
than that by which he was himself upheld, was founded, as Leicester was
well aware, on Elizabeth's solid judgment, not on her partiality, and
was, therefore, free from all those principles of change and decay
necessarily incident to that which chiefly arose from personal
accomplishments and female predilection. These great and sage statesmen
were judged of by the Queen only with reference to the measures they
suggested, and the reasons by which they supported their opinions in
council; whereas the success of Leicester's course depended on all those
light and changeable gales of caprice and humour which thwart or favour
the progress of a lover in the favour of his mistress, and she, too, a
mistress who was ever and anon becoming fearful lest she should forget
the dignity, or compromise the authority, of the Queen, while she
indulged the affections of the woman. Of the difficulties which
surrounded his power, "too great to keep or to resign," Leicester
was fully sensible; and as he looked anxiously round for the means
of maintaining himself in his precarious situation, and sometimes
contemplated those of descending from it in safety, he saw but little
hope of either. At such moments his thoughts turned to dwell upon his
secret marriage and its consequences; and it was in bitterness against
himself, if not against his unfortunate Countess, that he ascribed
to that hasty measure, adopted in the ardour of what he now called
inconsiderate passion, at once the impossibility of placing his power on
a solid basis, and the immediate prospect of its precipitate downfall.

"Men say," thus ran his thoughts, in these anxious and repentant
moments, "that I might marry Elizabeth, and become King of England. All
things suggest this. The match is carolled in ballads, while the rabble
throw their caps up. It has been touched upon in the schools--whispered
in the presence-chamber--recommended from the pulpit--prayed for in the
Calvinistic churches abroad--touched on by statists in the very council
at home. These bold insinuations have been rebutted by no rebuke, no
resentment, no chiding, scarce even by the usual female protestation
that she would live and die a virgin princess. Her words have been
more courteous than ever, though she knows such rumours are abroad--her
actions more gracious, her looks more kind--nought seems wanting to
make me King of England, and place me beyond the storms of court-favour,
excepting the putting forth of mine own hand to take that crown imperial
which is the glory of the universe! And when I might stretch that hand
out most boldly, it is fettered down by a secret and inextricable bond!
And here I have letters from Amy," he would say, catching them up with
a movement of peevishness, "persecuting me to acknowledge her openly--to
do justice to her and to myself--and I wot not what. Methinks I have
done less than justice to myself already. And she speaks as if Elizabeth
were to receive the knowledge of this matter with the glee of a mother
hearing of the happy marriage of a hopeful son! She, the daughter of
Henry, who spared neither man in his anger nor woman in his desire--she
to find herself tricked, drawn on with toys of passion to the verge of
acknowledging her love to a subject, and he discovered to be a married
man!--Elizabeth to learn that she had been dallied with in such fashion,
as a gay courtier might trifle with a country wench--we should then see,
to our ruin, FURENS QUID FAEMINA!"

He would then pause, and call for Varney, whose advice was now more
frequently resorted to than ever, because the Earl remembered the
remonstrances which he had made against his secret contract. And their
consultation usually terminated in anxious deliberation how, or in what
manner, the Countess was to be produced at Kenilworth. These communings
had for some time ended always in a resolution to delay the Progress
from day to day. But at length a peremptory decision became necessary.

"Elizabeth will not be satisfied without her presence," said the Earl.
"Whether any suspicion hath entered her mind, as my own apprehensions
suggest, or whether the petition of Tressilian is kept in her memory
by Sussex or some other secret enemy, I know not; but amongst all the
favourable expressions which she uses to me, she often recurs to the
story of Amy Robsart. I think that Amy is the slave in the chariot, who
is placed there by my evil fortune to dash and to confound my triumph,
even when at the highest. Show me thy device, Varney, for solving the
inextricable difficulty. I have thrown every such impediment in the
way of these accursed revels as I could propound even with a shade of
decency, but to-day's interview has put all to a hazard. She said to
me kindly, but peremptorily, 'We will give you no further time for
preparations, my lord, lest you should altogether ruin yourself. On
Saturday, the 9th of July, we will be with you at Kenilworth. We pray
you to forget none of our appointed guests and suitors, and in especial
this light-o'-love, Amy Robsart. We would wish to see the woman who
could postpone yonder poetical gentleman, Master Tressilian, to your
man, Richard Varney.'--Now, Varney, ply thine invention, whose forge
hath availed us so often for sure as my name is Dudley, the danger
menaced by my horoscope is now darkening around me."

"Can my lady be by no means persuaded to bear for a brief space the
obscure character which circumstances impose on her?" Said Varney after
some hesitation.

"How, sirrah? my Countess term herself thy wife!--that may neither stand
with my honour nor with hers."

"Alas! my lord," answered Varney, "and yet such is the quality in which
Elizabeth now holds her; and to contradict this opinion is to discover
all."

"Think of something else, Varney," said the Earl, in great agitation;
"this invention is nought. If I could give way to it, she would not; for
I tell thee, Varney, if thou knowest it not, that not Elizabeth on the
throne has more pride than the daughter of this obscure gentleman of
Devon. She is flexible in many things, but where she holds her honour
brought in question she hath a spirit and temper as apprehensive as
lightning, and as swift in execution."

"We have experienced that, my lord, else had we not been thus
circumstanced," said Varney. "But what else to suggest I know not.
Methinks she whose good fortune in becoming your lordship's bride, and
who gives rise to the danger, should do somewhat towards parrying it."

"It is impossible," said the Earl, waving his hand; "I know neither
authority nor entreaties would make her endure thy name for an hour.

"It is somewhat hard, though," said Varney, in a dry tone; and, without
pausing on that topic, he added, "Suppose some one were found to
represent her? Such feats have been performed in the courts of as
sharp-eyed monarchs as Queen Elizabeth."

"Utter madness, Varney," answered the Earl; "the counterfeit would be
confronted with Tressilian, and discovery become inevitable."

"Tressilian might be removed from court," said the unhesitating Varney.

"And by what means?"

"There are many," said Varney, "by which a statesman in your situation,
my lord, may remove from the scene one who pries into your affairs, and
places himself in perilous opposition to you."

"Speak not to me of such policy, Varney," said the Earl hastily, "which,
besides, would avail nothing in the present case. Many others there
be at court to whom Amy may be known; and besides, on the absence
of Tressilian, her father or some of her friends would be instantly
summoned hither. Urge thine invention once more."

"My lord, I know not what to say," answered Varney; "but were I myself
in such perplexity, I would ride post down to Cumnor Place, and compel
my wife to give her consent to such measures as her safety and mine
required."

"Varney," said Leicester, "I cannot urge her to aught so repugnant
to her noble nature as a share in this stratagem; it would be a base
requital to the love she bears me."

"Well, my lord," said Varney, "your lordship is a wise and an honourable
man, and skilled in those high points of romantic scruple which are
current in Arcadia perhaps, as your nephew, Philip Sidney, writes. I
am your humble servitor--a man of this world, and only happy that my
knowledge of it, and its ways, is such as your lordship has not scorned
to avail yourself of. Now I would fain know whether the obligation lies
on my lady or on you in this fortunate union, and which has most reason
to show complaisance to the other, and to consider that other's wishes,
conveniences, and safety?"

"I tell thee, Varney," said the Earl, "that all it was in my power to
bestow upon her was not merely deserved, but a thousand times overpaid,
by her own virtue and beauty; for never did greatness descend upon a
creature so formed by nature to grace and adorn it."

"It is well, my lord, you are so satisfied," answered Varney, with his
usual sardonic smile, which even respect to his patron could not at
all times subdue; "you will have time enough to enjoy undisturbed the
society of one so gracious and beautiful--that is, so soon as such
confinement in the Tower be over as may correspond to the crime of
deceiving the affections of Elizabeth Tudor. A cheaper penalty, I
presume, you do not expect."

"Malicious fiend!" answered Leicester, "do you mock me in my
misfortune?--Manage it as thou wilt."

"If you are serious, my lord," said Varney, "you must set forth
instantly and post for Cumnor Place."

"Do thou go thyself, Varney; the devil has given thee that sort of
eloquence which is most powerful in the worst cause. I should stand
self-convicted of villainy, were I to urge such a deceit. Begone, I tell
thee; must I entreat thee to mine own dishonour?"

"No, my lord," said Varney; "but if you are serious in entrusting me
with the task of urging this most necessary measure, you must give me
a letter to my lady, as my credentials, and trust to me for backing
the advice it contains with all the force in my power. And such is my
opinion of my lady's love for your lordship, and of her willingness to
do that which is at once to contribute to your pleasure and your safety,
that I am sure she will condescend to bear for a few brief days the name
of so humble a man as myself, especially since it is not inferior in
antiquity to that of her own paternal house."

Leicester seized on writing materials, and twice or thrice commenced
a letter to the Countess, which he afterwards tore into fragments. At
length he finished a few distracted lines, in which he conjured her, for
reasons nearly concerning his life and honour, to consent to bear the
name of Varney for a few days, during the revels at Kenilworth. He
added that Varney would communicate all the reasons which rendered this
deception indispensable; and having signed and sealed these credentials,
he flung them over the table to Varney with a motion that he should
depart, which his adviser was not slow to comprehend and to obey.

Leicester remained like one stupefied, till he heard the trampling of
the horses, as Varney, who took no time even to change his dress, threw
himself into the saddle, and, followed by a single servant, set off for
Berkshire. At the sound the Earl started from his seat, and ran to the
window, with the momentary purpose of recalling the unworthy commission
with which he had entrusted one of whom he used to say he knew no
virtuous property save affection to his patron. But Varney was already
beyond call; and the bright, starry firmament, which the age considered
as the Book of Fate, lying spread before Leicester when he opened the
casement, diverted him from his better and more manly purpose.

"There they roll, on their silent but potential course," said the Earl,
looking around him, "without a voice which speaks to our ear, but not
without influences which affect, at every change, the indwellers of this
vile, earthly planet. This, if astrologers fable not, is the very crisis
of my fate! The hour approaches of which I was taught to beware--the
hour, too, which I was encouraged to hope for. A King was the word--but
how?--the crown matrimonial. All hopes of that are gone--let them go.
The rich Netherlands have demanded me for their leader, and, would
Elizabeth consent, would yield to me THEIR crown. And have I not such
a claim even in this kingdom? That of York, descending from George of
Clarence to the House of Huntingdon, which, this lady failing, may have
a fair chance--Huntingdon is of my house.--But I will plunge no deeper
in these high mysteries. Let me hold my course in silence for a while,
and in obscurity, like a subterranean river; the time shall come that I
will burst forth in my strength, and bear all opposition before me."

While Leicester was thus stupefying the remonstrances of his own
conscience, by appealing to political necessity for his apology, or
losing himself amidst the wild dreams of ambition, his agent left
town and tower behind him on his hasty journey to Berkshire. HE also
nourished high hope. He had brought Lord Leicester to the point which
he had desired, of committing to him the most intimate recesses of
his breast, and of using him as the channel of his most confidential
intercourse with his lady. Henceforward it would, he foresaw, be
difficult for his patron either to dispense with his services, or refuse
his requests, however unreasonable. And if this disdainful dame, as
he termed the Countess, should comply with the request of her husband,
Varney, her pretended husband, must needs become so situated with
respect to her, that there was no knowing where his audacity might be
bounded perhaps not till circumstances enabled him to obtain a triumph,
which he thought of with a mixture of fiendish feelings, in which
revenge for her previous scorn was foremost and predominant. Again
he contemplated the possibility of her being totally intractable, and
refusing obstinately to play the part assigned to her in the drama at
Kenilworth.

"Alasco must then do his part," he said. "Sickness must serve her
Majesty as an excuse for not receiving the homage of Mrs. Varney--ay,
and a sore and wasting sickness it may prove, should Elizabeth continue
to cast so favourable an eye on my Lord of Leicester. I will not forego
the chance of being favourite of a monarch for want of determined
measures, should these be necessary. Forward, good horse,
forward--ambition and haughty hope of power, pleasure, and revenge
strike their stings as deep through my bosom as I plunge the rowels in
thy flanks. On, good horse, on--the devil urges us both forward!"



CHAPTER XXII.

     Say that my beauty was but small,
     Among court ladies all despised,
     Why didst thou rend it from that hall
     Where, scornful Earl, 'twas dearly prized?

     No more thou com'st with wonted speed,
     Thy once beloved bride to see;
     But be she alive, or be she dead,
     I fear, stern Earl, 's the same to thee.
     CUMNOR HALL, by WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE.

The ladies of fashion of the present, or of any other period, must have
allowed that the young and lovely Countess of Leicester had, besides her
youth and beauty, two qualities which entitled her to a place amongst
women of rank and distinction. She displayed, as we have seen in her
interview with the pedlar, a liberal promptitude to make unnecessary
purchases, solely for the pleasure of acquiring useless and showy
trifles which ceased to please as soon as they were possessed; and she
was, besides, apt to spend a considerable space of time every day in
adorning her person, although the varied splendour of her attire could
only attract the half satirical praise of the precise Janet, or an
approving glance from the bright eyes which witnessed their own beams of
triumph reflected from the mirror.

The Countess Amy had, indeed, to plead for indulgence in those frivolous
tastes, that the education of the times had done little or nothing for a
mind naturally gay and averse to study. If she had not loved to
collect finery and to wear it, she might have woven tapestry or sewed
embroidery, till her labours spread in gay profusion all over the walls
and seats at Lidcote Hall; or she might have varied Minerva's labours
with the task of preparing a mighty pudding against the time that Sir
Hugh Robsart returned from the greenwood. But Amy had no natural genius
either for the loom, the needle, or the receipt-book. Her mother had
died in infancy; her father contradicted her in nothing; and Tressilian,
the only one that approached her who was able or desirous to attend
to the cultivation of her mind, had much hurt his interest with her by
assuming too eagerly the task of a preceptor, so that he was regarded by
the lively, indulged, and idle girl with some fear and much respect, but
with little or nothing of that softer emotion which it had been his hope
and his ambition to inspire. And thus her heart lay readily open, and
her fancy became easily captivated by the noble exterior and graceful
deportment and complacent flattery of Leicester, even before he was
known to her as the dazzling minion of wealth and power.

The frequent visits of Leicester at Cumnor, during the earlier part of
their union, had reconciled the Countess to the solitude and privacy
to which she was condemned; but when these visits became rarer and more
rare, and when the void was filled up with letters of excuse, not always
very warmly expressed, and generally extremely brief, discontent and
suspicion began to haunt those splendid apartments which love had 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 this obscure and secluded residence, by the Earl's
acknowledgment of their marriage; and in arranging her arguments with
all the skill she was mistress of, she trusted chiefly to the warmth of
the entreaties with which she urged them. Sometimes she even ventured
to mingle reproaches, of which Leicester conceived he had good reason to
complain.

"I have made her Countess," he said to 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? I care not for all those strings of pearl, which you fret me
by warping into my tresses, Janet. I tell you that at Lidcote Hall, if
I put but a fresh rosebud among my hair, my good father would call me
to him, that he might see it more closely; and the kind old curate would
smile, and Master Mumblazen would say something about roses gules. And
now I sit here, decked out like an image with gold and gems, and no one
to see my finery but you, Janet. There was the poor Tressilian, too--but
it avails not speaking of him."

"It doth not indeed, madam," said her prudent attendant; "and verily
you make me sometimes wish you would not speak of him so often, or so
rashly."

"It signifies nothing to warn me, Janet," said the impatient and
incorrigible Countess; "I was born free, though I am now mewed up like
some fine foreign slave, rather than the wife of an English noble.
I bore it all with pleasure while I was sure he loved me; but now my
tongue and heart shall be free, let them fetter these limbs as they
will. I tell thee, Janet, I love my husband--I will love him till
my latest breath--I cannot cease to love him, even if I would, or if
he--which, God knows, may chance--should cease to love me. But I
will say, and loudly, I would have been happier than I now am to
have remained in Lidcote Hall, even although I must have married poor
Tressilian, with his melancholy look and his head full of learning,
which I cared not for. He said, if I would read his favourite volumes,
there would come a time that I should be glad of having done so. I think
it is come now."

"I bought you some books, madam," said Janet, "from a lame fellow who
sold them in the Market-place--and who stared something boldly, at me, I
promise you."

"Let me see them, Janet," said the Countess; "but let them not be of
your own precise cast,--How is this, most righteous damsel?--'A PAIR OF
SNUFFERS FOR THE GOLDEN CANDLESTICK'--'HANDFULL OF MYRRH AND HYSSOP TO
PUT A SICK SOUL TO PURGATION'--'A DRAUGHT OF WATER FROM THE VALLEY OF
BACA'--'FOXES AND FIREBRANDS'--what gear call you this, maiden?"

"Nay, madam," said Janet, "it was but fitting and seemly to put grace in
your ladyship's way; but an you will none of it, there are play-books,
and poet-books, I trow."

The Countess proceeded carelessly in her examination, turning over such
rare volumes as would now make the fortune of twenty retail booksellers.
Here was a "BOKE OF COOKERY, IMPRINTED BY RICHARD LANT," and "SKELTON'S
BOOKS"--"THE PASSTIME OF THE PEOPLE"--"THE CASTLE OF KNOWLEDGE," etc.
But neither to this lore did the Countess's heart incline, and joyfully
did she start up from the listless task of turning over the leaves of
the pamphlets, and hastily did she scatter them through the floor, when
the hasty clatter of horses' feet, heard in the courtyard, called her to
the window, exclaiming, "It is Leicester!--it is my noble Earl!--it
is my Dudley!--every stroke of his horse's hoof sounds like a note of
lordly music!"

There was a brief bustle in the mansion, and Foster, with his downward
look and sullen manner, entered the apartment to say, "That Master
Richard Varney was arrived from my lord, having ridden all night, and
craved to speak with her ladyship instantly."

"Varney?" said the disappointed Countess; "and to speak with me?--pshaw!
But he comes with news from Leicester, so admit him instantly."

Varney entered her dressing apartment, where she sat arrayed in her
native loveliness, adorned with all that Janet's art and a rich and
tasteful undress could bestow. But the most beautiful part of her attire
was her profuse and luxuriant light-brown locks, which floated in such
rich abundance around a neck that resembled a swan's, and over a bosom
heaving with anxious expectation, which communicated a hurried tinge of
red to her whole countenance.

Varney entered the room in the dress in which he had waited on his
master that morning to court, the splendour of which made a strange
contrast with the disorder arising from hasty riding during a dark night
and foul ways. His brow bore an anxious and hurried expression, as one
who has that to say of which he doubts the reception, and who hath
yet posted on from the necessity of communicating his tidings. The
Countess's anxious eye at once caught the alarm, as she exclaimed, "You
bring news from my lord, Master Varney--Gracious Heaven! is he ill?"

"No, madam, thank Heaven!" said Varney. "Compose yourself, and permit me
to take breath ere I communicate my tidings."

"No breath, sir," replied the lady impatiently; "I know your theatrical
arts. Since your breath hath sufficed to bring you hither, it may
suffice to tell your tale--at least briefly, and in the gross."

"Madam," answered Varney, "we are not alone, and my lord's message was
for your ear only."

"Leave us, Janet, and Master Foster," said the lady; "but remain in the
next apartment, and within call."

Foster and his daughter retired, agreeably to the Lady Leicester's
commands, into the next apartment, which was the withdrawing-room. The
door which led from the sleeping-chamber was then carefully shut and
bolted, and the father and daughter remained both in a posture of
anxious attention, the first with a stern, suspicious, anxious cast of
countenance, and Janet with folded hands, and looks which seemed divided
betwixt her desire to know the fortunes of her mistress, and her prayers
to Heaven for her safety. Anthony Foster seemed himself to have some
idea of what was passing through his daughter's mind, for he crossed
the apartment and took her anxiously by the hand, saying, "That is
right--pray, Janet, pray; we have all need of prayers, and some of us
more than others. Pray, Janet--I would pray myself, but I must listen to
what goes on within--evil has been brewing, love--evil has been brewing.
God forgive our sins, but Varney's sudden and strange arrival bodes us
no good."