Janet had never before heard her father excite or even permit her
attention to anything which passed in their mysterious family; and now
that he did so, his voice sounded in her ear--she knew not why--like
that of a screech-owl denouncing some deed of terror and of woe. She
turned her eyes fearfully towards the door, almost as if she expected
some sounds of horror to be heard, or some sight of fear to display
itself.

All, however, was as still as death, and the voices of those who spoke
in the inner chamber were, if they spoke at all, carefully subdued to a
tone which could not be heard in the next. At once, however, they were
heard to speak fast, thick, and hastily; and presently after the voice
of the Countess was heard exclaiming, at the highest pitch to which
indignation could raise it, "Undo the door, sir, I command you!--undo
the door!--I will have no other reply!" she continued, drowning with her
vehement accents the low and muttered sounds which Varney was heard
to utter betwixt whiles. "What ho! without there!" she persisted,
accompanying her words with shrieks, "Janet, alarm the house!--Foster,
break open the door--I am detained here by a traitor! Use axe and lever,
Master Foster--I will be your warrant!"

"It shall not need, madam," Varney was at length distinctly heard to
say. "If you please to expose my lord's important concerns and your own
to the general ear, I will not be your hindrance."

The door was unlocked and thrown open, and Janet and her father rushed
in, anxious to learn the cause of these reiterated exclamations.

When they entered the apartment Varney stood by the door grinding his
teeth, with an expression in which rage, and shame, and fear had each
their share. The Countess stood in the midst of her apartment like a
juvenile Pythoness under the influence of the prophetic fury. The veins
in her beautiful forehead started into swoln blue lines through the
hurried impulse of her articulation--her cheek and neck glowed like
scarlet--her eyes were like those of an imprisoned eagle, flashing red
lightning on the foes which it cannot reach with its talons. Were it
possible for one of the Graces to have been animated by a Fury, the
countenance could not have united such beauty with so much hatred,
scorn, defiance, and resentment. The gesture and attitude corresponded
with the voice and looks, and altogether presented a spectacle which was
at once beautiful and fearful; so much of the sublime had the energy
of passion united with the Countess Amy's natural loveliness. Janet,
as soon as the door was open, ran to her mistress; and more slowly, yet
with more haste than he was wont, Anthony Foster went to Richard Varney.

"In the Truth's name, what ails your ladyship?" said the former.

"What, in the name of Satan, have you done to her?" said Foster to his
friend.

"Who, I?--nothing," answered Varney, but with sunken head and sullen
voice; "nothing but communicated to her her lord's commands, which, if
the lady list not to obey, she knows better how to answer it than I may
pretend to do."

"Now, by Heaven, Janet!" said the Countess, "the false traitor lies
in his throat! He must needs lie, for he speaks to the dishonour of my
noble lord; he must needs lie doubly, for he speaks to gain ends of his
own, equally execrable and unattainable."

"You have misapprehended me, lady," said Varney, with a sulky species
of submission and apology; "let this matter rest till your passion be
abated, and I will explain all."

"Thou shalt never have an opportunity to do so," said the
Countess.--"Look at him, Janet. He is fairly dressed, hath the outside
of a gentleman, and hither he came to persuade me it was my lord's
pleasure--nay, more, my wedded lord's commands--that I should go with
him to Kenilworth, and before the Queen and nobles, and in presence of
my own wedded lord, that I should acknowledge him--HIM there--that very
cloak-brushing, shoe-cleaning fellow--HIM there, my lord's lackey,
for my liege lord and husband; furnishing against myself, Great God!
whenever I was to vindicate my right and my rank, such weapons as would
hew my just claim from the root, and destroy my character to be regarded
as an honourable matron of the English nobility!"

"You hear her, Foster, and you, young maiden, hear this lady," answered
Varney, taking advantage of the pause which the Countess had made in her
charge, more for lack of breath than for lack of matter--"you hear that
her heat only objects to me the course which our good lord, for the
purpose to keep certain matters secret, suggests in the very letter
which she holds in her hands."

Foster here attempted to interfere with a face of authority, which he
thought became the charge entrusted to him, "Nay, lady, I must needs say
you are over-hasty in this. Such deceit is not utterly to be condemned
when practised for a righteous end I and thus even the patriarch Abraham
feigned Sarah to be his sister when they went down to Egypt."

"Ay, sir," answered the Countess; "but God rebuked that deceit even in
the father of His chosen people, by the mouth of the heathen Pharaoh.
Out upon you, that will read Scripture only to copy those things which
are held out to us as warnings, not as examples!"

"But Sarah disputed not the will of her husband, an it be your
pleasure," said Foster, in reply, "but did as Abraham commanded, calling
herself his sister, that it might be well with her husband for her sake,
and that his soul might live because of her beauty."

"Now, so Heaven pardon me my useless anger," answered the Countess,
"thou art as daring a hypocrite as yonder fellow is an impudent
deceiver! Never will I believe that the noble Dudley gave countenance
to so dastardly, so dishonourable a plan. Thus I tread on his infamy, if
indeed it be, and thus destroy its remembrance for ever!"

So saying, she tore in pieces Leicester's letter, and stamped, in the
extremity of impatience, as if she would have annihilated the minute
fragments into which she had rent it.

"Bear witness," said Varney, collecting himself, "she hath torn my
lord's letter, in order to burden me with the scheme of his devising;
and although it promises nought but danger and trouble to me, she would
lay it to my charge, as if I had any purpose of mine own in it."

"Thou liest, thou treacherous slave!" said the Countess in spite of
Janet's attempts to keep her silent, in the sad foresight that her
vehemence might only furnish arms against herself--"thou liest," she
continued.--"Let me go, Janet--were it the last word I have to speak,
he lies. He had his own foul ends to seek; and broader he would have
displayed them had my passion permitted me to preserve the silence which
at first encouraged him to unfold his vile projects."

"Madam," said Varney, overwhelmed in spite of his effrontery, "I entreat
you to believe yourself mistaken."

"As soon will I believe light darkness," said the enraged Countess.
"Have I drunk of oblivion? Do I not remember former passages, which,
known to Leicester, had given thee the preferment of a gallows, instead
of the honour of his intimacy. I would I were a man but for five
minutes! It were space enough to make a craven like thee confess his
villainy. But go--begone! Tell thy master that when I take the foul
course to which such scandalous deceits as thou hast recommended on
his behalf must necessarily lead me, I will give him a rival something
worthy of the name. He shall not be supplanted by an ignominious lackey,
whose best fortune is to catch a gift of his master's last suit
of clothes ere it is threadbare, and who is only fit to seduce a
suburb-wench by the bravery of new roses in his master's old pantoufles.
Go, begone, sir! I scorn thee so much that I am ashamed to have been
angry with thee."

Varney left the room with a mute expression of rage, and was followed by
Foster, whose apprehension, naturally slow, was overpowered by the eager
and abundant discharge of indignation which, for the first time, he had
heard burst from the lips of a being who had seemed, till that moment,
too languid and too gentle to nurse an angry thought or utter an
intemperate expression. Foster, therefore, pursued Varney from place to
place, persecuting him with interrogatories, to which the other replied
not, until they were in the opposite side of the quadrangle, and in the
old library, with which the reader has already been made acquainted.
Here he turned round on his persevering follower, and thus addressed
him, in a tone tolerably equal, that brief walk having been sufficient
to give one so habituated to command his temper time to rally and
recover his presence of mind.

"Tony," he said, with his usual sneering laugh, "it avails not to deny
it. The Woman and the Devil, who, as thine oracle Holdforth will
confirm to thee, cheated man at the beginning, have this day proved more
powerful than my discretion. Yon termagant looked so tempting, and had
the art to preserve her countenance so naturally, while I communicated
my lord's message, that, by my faith, I thought I might say some little
thing for myself. She thinks she hath my head under her girdle now, but
she is deceived. Where is Doctor Alasco?"

"In his laboratory," answered Foster. "It is the hour he is spoken not
withal. We must wait till noon is past, or spoil his important--what
said I? important!--I would say interrupt his divine studies."

"Ay, he studies the devil's divinity," said Varney; "but when I want
him, one hour must suffice as well as another. Lead the way to his
pandemonium."

So spoke Varney, and with hasty and perturbed steps followed Foster,
who conducted him through private passages, many of which were
well-nigh ruinous, to the opposite side of the quadrangle, where, in a
subterranean apartment, now occupied by the chemist Alasco, one of the
Abbots of Abingdon, who had a turn for the occult sciences, had, much
to the scandal of his convent, established a laboratory, in which,
like other fools of the period, he spent much precious time, and money
besides, in the pursuit of the grand arcanum.

Anthony Foster paused before the door, which was scrupulously secured
within, and again showed a marked hesitation to disturb the sage in
his operations. But Varney, less scrupulous, roused him by knocking
and voice, until at length, slowly and reluctantly, the inmate of the
apartment undid the door. The chemist appeared, with his eyes bleared
with the heat and vapours of the stove or alembic over which he brooded
and the interior of his cell displayed the confused assemblage of
heterogeneous substances and extraordinary implements belonging to his
profession. The old man was muttering, with spiteful impatience, "Am I
for ever to be recalled to the affairs of earth from those of heaven?"

"To the affairs of hell," answered Varney, "for that is thy proper
element.--Foster, we need thee at our conference."

Foster slowly entered the room. Varney, following, barred the door, and
they betook themselves to secret council.

In the meanwhile, the Countess traversed the apartment, with shame and
anger contending on her lovely cheek.

"The villain," she said--"the cold-blooded, calculating slave!--But I
unmasked him, Janet--I made the snake uncoil all his folds before me,
and crawl abroad in his naked deformity; I suspended my resentment, at
the danger of suffocating under the effort, until he had let me see the
very bottom of a heart more foul than hell's darkest corner.--And thou,
Leicester, is it possible thou couldst bid me for a moment deny my
wedded right in thee, or thyself yield it to another?--But it is
impossible--the villain has lied in all.--Janet, I will not remain here
longer--I fear him--I fear thy father. I grieve to say it, Janet--but
I fear thy father, and, worst of all, this odious Varney, I will escape
from Cumnor."

"Alas! madam, whither would you fly, or by what means will you escape
from these walls?"

"I know not, Janet," said the unfortunate young lady, looking upwards!
and clasping her hands together, "I know not where I shall fly, or by
what means; but I am certain the God I have served will not abandon me
in this dreadful crisis, for I am in the hands of wicked men."

"Do not think so, dear lady," said Janet; "my father is stern and strict
in his temper, and severely true to his trust--but yet--"

At this moment Anthony Foster entered the apartment, bearing in his
hand a glass cup and a small flask. His manner was singular; for, while
approaching the Countess with the respect due to her rank, he had till
this time suffered to become visible, or had been unable to suppress,
the obdurate sulkiness of his natural disposition, which, as is usual
with those of his unhappy temper, was chiefly exerted towards those over
whom circumstances gave him control. But at present he showed nothing
of that sullen consciousness of authority which he was wont to conceal
under a clumsy affectation of civility and deference, as a ruffian hides
his pistols and bludgeon under his ill-fashioned gaberdine. And yet it
seemed as if his smile was more in fear than courtesy, and as if, while
he pressed the Countess to taste of the choice cordial, which should
refresh her spirits after her late alarm, he was conscious of meditating
some further injury. His hand trembled also, his voice faltered, and his
whole outward behaviour exhibited so much that was suspicious, that his
daughter Janet, after she had stood looking at him in astonishment for
some seconds, seemed at once to collect herself to execute some
hardy resolution, raised her head, assumed an attitude and gait of
determination and authority, and walking slowly betwixt her father and
her mistress, took the salver from the hand of the former, and said in
a low but marked and decided tone, "Father, I will fill for my noble
mistress, when such is her pleasure."

"Thou, my child?" said Foster, eagerly and apprehensively; "no, my
child--it is not THOU shalt render the lady this service."

"And why, I pray you," said Janet, "if it be fitting that the noble lady
should partake of the cup at all?"

"Why--why?" said the seneschal, hesitating, and then bursting into
passion as the readiest mode of supplying the lack of all other
reason--"why, because it is my pleasure, minion, that you should not!
Get you gone to the evening lecture."

"Now, as I hope to hear lecture again," replied Janet, "I will not go
thither this night, unless I am better assured of my mistress's safety.
Give me that flask, father"--and she took it from his reluctant hand,
while he resigned it as if conscience-struck. "And now," she said,
"father, that which shall benefit my mistress, cannot do ME prejudice.
Father, I drink to you."

Foster, without speaking a word, rushed on his daughter and wrested the
flask from her hand; then, as if embarrassed by what he had done, and
totally unable to resolve what he should do next, he stood with it in
his hand, one foot advanced and the other drawn back, glaring on his
daughter with a countenance in which rage, fear, and convicted villainy
formed a hideous combination.

"This is strange, my father," said Janet, keeping her eye fixed on his,
in the manner in which those who have the charge of lunatics are said to
overawe their unhappy patients; "will you neither let me serve my lady,
nor drink to her myself?"

The courage of the Countess sustained her through this dreadful scene,
of which the import was not the less obvious that it was not even hinted
at. She preserved even the rash carelessness of her temper, and though
her cheek had grown pale at the first alarm, her eye was calm and almost
scornful. "Will YOU taste this rare cordial, Master Foster? Perhaps you
will not yourself refuse to pledge us, though you permit not Janet to do
so. Drink, sir, I pray you."

"I will not," answered Foster.

"And for whom, then, is the precious beverage reserved, sir?" said the
Countess.

"For the devil, who brewed it!" answered Foster; and, turning on his
heel, he left the chamber.

Janet looked at her mistress with a countenance expressive in the
highest degree of shame, dismay, and sorrow.

"Do not weep for me, Janet," said the Countess kindly.

"No, madam," replied her attendant, in a voice broken by sobs, "it is
not for you I weep; it is for myself--it is for that unhappy man. Those
who are dishonoured before man--those who are condemned by God--have
cause to mourn; not those who are innocent! Farewell, madam!" she said
hastily assuming the mantle in which she was wont to go abroad.

"Do you leave me, Janet?" said her mistress--"desert me in such an evil
strait?"

"Desert you, madam!" exclaimed Janet; and running back to her mistress,
she imprinted a thousand kisses on her hand--"desert you I--may the Hope
of my trust desert me when I do so! No, madam; well you said the God you
serve will open you a path for deliverance. There is a way of escape. I
have prayed night and day for light, that I might see how to act betwixt
my duty to yonder unhappy man and that which I owe to you. Sternly and
fearfully that light has now dawned, and I must not shut the door which
God opens. Ask me no more. I will return in brief space."

So speaking, she wrapped herself in her mantle, and saying to the old
woman whom she passed in the outer room that she was going to evening
prayer, she left the house.

Meanwhile her father had reached once more the laboratory, where
he found the accomplices of his intended guilt. "Has the sweet bird
sipped?" said Varney, with half a smile; while the astrologer put the
same question with his eyes, but spoke not a word.

"She has not, nor she shall not from my hands," replied Foster; "would
you have me do murder in my daughter's presence?"

"Wert thou not told, thou sullen and yet faint-hearted slave," answered
Varney, with bitterness, "that no MURDER as thou callest it, with that
staring look and stammering tone, is designed in the matter? Wert thou
not told that a brief illness, such as woman puts on in very wantonness,
that she may wear her night-gear at noon, and lie on a settle when
she should mind her domestic business, is all here aimed at? Here is a
learned man will swear it to thee by the key of the Castle of Wisdom."

"I swear it," said Alasco, "that the elixir thou hast there in the flask
will not prejudice life! I swear it by that immortal and indestructible
quintessence of gold, which pervades every substance in nature, though
its secret existence can be traced by him only to whom Trismegistus
renders the key of the Cabala."

"An oath of force," said Varney. "Foster, thou wert worse than a pagan
to disbelieve it. Believe me, moreover, who swear by nothing but by my
own word, that if you be not conformable, there is no hope, no, not
a glimpse of hope, that this thy leasehold may be transmuted into a
copyhold. Thus, Alasco will leave your pewter artillery untransmigrated,
and I, honest Anthony, will still have thee for my tenant."

"I know not, gentlemen," said Foster, "where your designs tend to; but
in one thing I am bound up,--that, fall back fall edge, I will have one
in this place that may pray for me, and that one shall be my daughter.
I have lived ill, and the world has been too weighty with me; but she is
as innocent as ever she was when on her mother's lap, and she, at least,
shall have her portion in that happy City, whose walls are of pure gold,
and the foundations garnished with all manner of precious stones."

"Ay, Tony," said Varney, "that were a paradise to thy heart's
content.--Debate the matter with him, Doctor Alasco; I will be with you
anon."

So speaking, Varney arose, and taking the flask from the table, he left
the room.

"I tell thee, my son," said Alasco to Foster, as soon as Varney had
left them, "that whatever this bold and profligate railer may say of the
mighty science, in which, by Heaven's blessing, I have advanced so
far that I would not call the wisest of living artists my better or my
teacher--I say, howsoever yonder reprobate may scoff at things too holy
to be apprehended by men merely of carnal and evil thoughts, yet believe
that the city beheld by St. John, in that bright vision of the Christian
Apocalypse, that new Jerusalem, of which all Christian men hope to
partake, sets forth typically the discovery of the GRAND SECRET, whereby
the most precious and perfect of nature's works are elicited out of
her basest and most crude productions; just as the light and gaudy
butterfly, the most beautiful child of the summer's breeze, breaks forth
from the dungeon of a sordid chrysalis."

"Master Holdforth said nought of this exposition," said Foster
doubtfully; "and moreover, Doctor Alasco, the Holy Writ says that the
gold and precious stones of the Holy City are in no sort for those who
work abomination, or who frame lies."

"Well, my son," said the Doctor, "and what is your inference from
thence?"

"That those," said Foster, "who distil poisons, and administer them in
secrecy, can have no portion in those unspeakable riches."

"You are to distinguish, my son," replied the alchemist, "betwixt that
which is necessarily evil in its progress and in its end also, and that
which, being evil, is, nevertheless, capable of working forth good. If,
by the death of one person, the happy period shall be brought nearer
to us, in which all that is good shall be attained, by wishing its
presence--all that is evil escaped, by desiring its absence--in which
sickness, and pain, and sorrow shall be the obedient servants of human
wisdom, and made to fly at the slightest signal of a sage--in which that
which is now richest and rarest shall be within the compass of every one
who shall be obedient to the voice of wisdom--when the art of healing
shall be lost and absorbed in the one universal medicine when sages
shall become monarchs of the earth, and death itself retreat before
their frown,--if this blessed consummation of all things can be hastened
by the slight circumstance that a frail, earthly body, which must
needs partake corruption, shall be consigned to the grave a short space
earlier than in the course of nature, what is such a sacrifice to the
advancement of the holy Millennium?"

"Millennium is the reign of the Saints," said Foster, somewhat
doubtfully.

"Say it is the reign of the Sages, my son," answered Alasco; "or rather
the reign of Wisdom itself."

"I touched on the question with Master Holdforth last exercising night,"
said Foster; "but he says your doctrine is heterodox, and a damnable and
false exposition."

"He is in the bonds of ignorance, my son," answered Alasco, "and as yet
burning bricks in Egypt; or, at best, wandering in the dry desert of
Sinai. Thou didst ill to speak to such a man of such matters. I will,
however, give thee proof, and that shortly, which I will defy that
peevish divine to confute, though he should strive with me as the
magicians strove with Moses before King Pharaoh. I will do projection
in thy presence, my son,--in thy very presence--and thine eyes shall
witness the truth."

"Stick to that, learned sage," said Varney, who at this moment entered
the apartment; "if he refuse the testimony of thy tongue, yet how shall
he deny that of his own eyes?"

"Varney!" said the adept--"Varney already returned! Hast thou--" he
stopped short.

"Have I done mine errand, thou wouldst say?" replied Varney. "I have!
And thou," he added, showing more symptoms of interest than he had
hitherto exhibited, "art thou sure thou hast poured forth neither more
nor less than the just measure?"

"Ay," replied the alchemist, "as sure as men can be in these nice
proportions, for there is diversity of constitutions."

"Nay, then," said Varney, "I fear nothing. I know thou wilt not go a
step farther to the devil than thou art justly considered for--thou wert
paid to create illness, and wouldst esteem it thriftless prodigality to
do murder at the same price. Come, let us each to our chamber we shall
see the event to-morrow."

"What didst thou do to make her swallow it?" said Foster, shuddering.

"Nothing," answered Varney, "but looked on her with that aspect which
governs madmen, women, and children. They told me in St. Luke's Hospital
that I have the right look for overpowering a refractory patient. The
keepers made me their compliments on't; so I know how to win my bread
when my court-favour fails me."

"And art thou not afraid," said Foster, "lest the dose be
disproportioned?"

"If so," replied Varney, "she will but sleep the sounder, and the fear
of that shall not break my rest. Good night, my masters."

Anthony Foster groaned heavily, and lifted up his hands and eyes. The
alchemist intimated his purpose to continue some experiment of high
import during the greater part of the night, and the others separated to
their places of repose.



CHAPTER XXIII.

     Now God be good to me in this wild pilgrimage!
     All hope in human aid I cast behind me.
     Oh, who would be a woman?--who that fool,
     A weeping, pining, faithful, loving woman?
     She hath hard measure still where she hopes kindest,
     And all her bounties only make ingrates.     LOVE'S PILGRIMAGE.

The summer evening was closed, and Janet, just when her longer stay
might have occasioned suspicion and inquiry in that zealous household,
returned to Cumnor Place, and hastened to the apartment in which she
had left her lady. She found her with her head resting on her arms, and
these crossed upon a table which stood before her. As Janet came in, she
neither looked up nor stirred.

Her faithful attendant ran to her mistress with the speed of lightning,
and rousing her at the same time with her hand, conjured the Countess,
in the most earnest manner, to look up and say what thus affected
her. The unhappy lady raised her head accordingly, and looking on her
attendant with a ghastly eye, and cheek as pale as clay--"Janet," she
said, "I have drunk it."

"God be praised!" said Janet hastily--"I mean, God be praised that it is
no worse; the potion will not harm you. Rise, shake this lethargy from
your limbs, and this despair from your mind."

"Janet," repeated the Countess again, "disturb me not--leave me at
peace--let life pass quietly. I am poisoned."

"You are not, my dearest lady," answered the maiden eagerly. "What you
have swallowed cannot injure you, for the antidote has been taken before
it, and I hastened hither to tell you that the means of escape are open
to you."

"Escape!" exclaimed the lady, as she raised herself hastily in her
chair, while light returned to her eye and life to her cheek; "but ah!
Janet, it comes too late."

"Not so, dearest lady. Rise, take mine arm, walk through the apartment;
let not fancy do the work of poison! So; feel you not now that you are
possessed of the full use of your limbs?"

"The torpor seems to diminish," said the Countess, as, supported by
Janet, she walked to and fro in the apartment; "but is it then so, and
have I not swallowed a deadly draught? Varney was here since thou wert
gone, and commanded me, with eyes in which I read my fate, to swallow
yon horrible drug. O Janet! it must be fatal; never was harmless draught
served by such a cup-bearer!"

"He did not deem it harmless, I fear," replied the maiden; "but God
confounds the devices of the wicked. Believe me, as I swear by the dear
Gospel in which we trust, your life is safe from his practice. Did you
not debate with him?"

"The house was silent," answered the lady--"thou gone--no other but he
in the chamber--and he capable of every crime. I did but stipulate he
would remove his hateful presence, and I drank whatever he offered.--But
you spoke of escape, Janet; can I be so happy?"

"Are you strong enough to bear the tidings, and make the effort?" said
the maiden.

"Strong!" answered the Countess. "Ask the hind, when the fangs of the
deerhound are stretched to gripe her, if she is strong enough to spring
over a chasm. I am equal to every effort that may relieve me from this
place."

"Hear me, then," said Janet. "One whom I deem an assured friend of yours
has shown himself to me in various disguises, and sought speech of me,
which--for my mind was not clear on the matter until this evening--I
have ever declined. He was the pedlar who brought you goods--the
itinerant hawker who sold me books; whenever I stirred abroad I was sure
to see him. The event of this night determined me to speak with him.
He awaits even now at the postern gate of the park with means for your
flight.--But have you strength of body?--have you courage of mind?--can
you undertake the enterprise?"

"She that flies from death," said the lady, "finds strength of body--she
that would escape from shame lacks no strength of mind. The thoughts of
leaving behind me the villain who menaces both my life and honour would
give me strength to rise from my deathbed."

"In God's name, then, lady," said Janet, "I must bid you adieu, and to
God's charge I must commit you!"

"Will you not fly with me, then, Janet?" said the Countess, anxiously.
"Am I to lose thee? Is this thy faithful service?"

"Lady, I would fly with you as willingly as bird ever fled from cage,
but my doing so would occasion instant discovery and pursuit. I must
remain, and use means to disguise the truth for some time. May Heaven
pardon the falsehood, because of the necessity!"

"And am I then to travel alone with this stranger?" said the lady.
"Bethink thee, Janet, may not this prove some deeper and darker scheme
to separate me perhaps from you, who are my only friend?"

"No, madam, do not suppose it," answered Janet readily; "the youth is an
honest youth in his purpose to you, and a friend to Master Tressilian,
under whose direction he is come hither."

"If he be a friend of Tressilian," said the Countess, "I will commit
myself to his charge as to that of an angel sent from heaven; for than
Tressilian never breathed mortal man more free of whatever was base,
false, or selfish. He forgot himself whenever he could be of use to
others. Alas! and how was he requited?"

With eager haste they collected the few necessaries which it was thought
proper the Countess should take with her, and which Janet, with speed
and dexterity, formed into a small bundle, not forgetting to add such
ornaments of intrinsic value as came most readily in her way, and
particularly a casket of jewels, which she wisely judged might prove of
service in some future emergency. The Countess of Leicester next changed
her dress for one which Janet usually wore upon any brief journey, for
they judged it necessary to avoid every external distinction which might
attract attention. Ere these preparations were fully made, the moon
had arisen in the summer heaven, and all in the mansion had betaken
themselves to rest, or at least to the silence and retirement of their
chambers.

There was no difficulty anticipated in escaping, whether from the house
or garden, provided only they could elude observation. Anthony Foster
had accustomed himself to consider his daughter as a conscious sinner
might regard a visible guardian angel, which, notwithstanding his guilt,
continued to hover around him; and therefore his trust in her knew no
bounds. Janet commanded her own motions during the daytime, and had a
master-key which opened the postern door of the park, so that she could
go to the village at pleasure, either upon the household affairs, which
were entirely confided to her management, or to attend her devotions
at the meeting-house of her sect. It is true the daughter of Foster was
thus liberally entrusted under the solemn condition that she should not
avail herself of these privileges to do anything inconsistent with the
safe-keeping of the Countess; for so her residence at Cumnor Place
had been termed, since she began of late to exhibit impatience of the
restrictions to which she was subjected. Nor is there reason to suppose
that anything short of the dreadful suspicions which the scene of that
evening had excited could have induced Janet to violate her word or
deceive her father's confidence. But from what she had witnessed, she
now conceived herself not only justified, but imperatively called upon,
to make her lady's safety the principal object of her care, setting all
other considerations aside.

The fugitive Countess with her guide traversed with hasty steps the
broken and interrupted path, which had once been an avenue, now totally
darkened by the boughs of spreading trees which met above their head,
and now receiving a doubtful and deceiving light from the beams of the
moon, which penetrated where the axe had made openings in the wood.
Their path was repeatedly interrupted by felled trees, or the large
boughs which had been left on the ground till time served to make them
into fagots and billets. The inconvenience and difficulty attending
these interruptions, the breathless haste of the first part of their
route, the exhausting sensations of hope and fear, so much affected the
Countess's strength, that Janet was forced to propose that they should
pause for a few minutes to recover breath and spirits. Both therefore
stood still beneath the shadow of a huge old gnarled oak-tree, and both
naturally looked back to the mansion which they had left behind them,
whose long, dark front was seen in the gloomy distance, with its huge
stacks of chimneys, turrets, and clock-house, rising above the line
of the roof, and definedly visible against the pure azure blue of the
summer sky. One light only twinkled from the extended and shadowy mass,
and it was placed so low that it rather seemed to glimmer from the
ground in front of the mansion than from one of the windows. The
Countess's terror was awakened. "They follow us!" she said, pointing out
to Janet the light which thus alarmed her.

Less agitated than her mistress, Janet perceived that the gleam was
stationary, and informed the Countess, in a whisper, that the light
proceeded from the solitary cell in which the alchemist pursued his
occult experiments. "He is of those," she added, "who sit up and watch
by night that they may commit iniquity. Evil was the chance which sent
hither a man whose mixed speech of earthly wealth and unearthly or
superhuman knowledge hath in it what does so especially captivate my
poor father. Well spoke the good Master Holdforth--and, methought,
not without meaning that those of our household should find therein a
practical use. 'There be those,' he said, 'and their number is legion,
who will rather, like the wicked Ahab, listen to the dreams of the false
prophet Zedekiah, than to the words of him by whom the Lord has spoken.'
And he further insisted--'Ah, my brethren, there be many Zedekiahs among
you--men that promise you the light of their carnal knowledge, so you
will surrender to them that of your heavenly understanding. What are
they better than the tyrant Naas, who demanded the right eye of those
who were subjected to him?' And further he insisted--"

It is uncertain how long the fair Puritan's memory might have supported
her in the recapitulation of Master Holdforth's discourse; but the
Countess now interrupted her, and assured her she was so much recovered
that she could now reach the postern without the necessity of a second
delay.

They set out accordingly, and performed the second part of their journey
with more deliberation, and of course more easily, than the first hasty
commencement. This gave them leisure for reflection; and Janet now,
for the first time, ventured to ask her lady which way she proposed to
direct her flight. Receiving no immediate answer--for, perhaps, in the
confusion of her mind this very obvious subject of deliberation had
not occurred to the Countess---Janet ventured to add, "Probably to your
father's house, where you are sure of safety and protection?"

"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 permission and public acknowledgment of our
marriage restore me to my native home with all the rank and honour which
he has bestowed on me."

"And whither will you, then, madam?" said Janet.

"To Kenilworth, girl," said the Countess, boldly and freely. "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."

"I pray God you may be a welcome one!" said Janet hastily.

"You abuse my situation, Janet," said the Countess, angrily, "and you
forget your own."

"I do neither, dearest madam," said the sorrowful maiden; "but have you
forgotten that the noble 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?"

"Thou thinkest I would disgrace him," said the Countess; "nay, let go my
arm, I can walk without aid and work without counsel."

"Be not angry with me, lady," said Janet meekly, "and let me still
support you; the road is rough, and you are little accustomed to walk in
darkness."

"If you deem me not so mean as may disgrace my husband," said the
Countess, in the same resentful tone, "you suppose my Lord of Leicester
capable of abetting, perhaps of giving aim and authority to, the base
proceedings of your father and Varney, whose errand I will do to the
good Earl."

"For God's sake, madam, spare my father in your report," said Janet;
"let my services, however poor, be some atonement for his errors!"

"I were most unjust, dearest Janet, were it otherwise," said the
Countess, resuming at once the fondness and confidence of her manner
towards her faithful attendant, "No, Janet, not a word of mine shall do
your father prejudice. But thou seest, my love, I have no desire but
to throw my self on my husband's protection. I have left the abode he
assigned for me, because of the villainy of the persons by whom I was
surrounded; but I will disobey his commands in no other particular. I
will appeal to him alone--I will be protected by him alone; to no other,
than at his pleasure, have I or will I communicate the secret union
which combines our hearts and our destinies. I will see him, and receive
from his own lips the directions for my future conduct. Do not argue
against my resolution, Janet; you will only confirm me in it. 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."

While Janet hastily revolved in her mind the difficulties and
uncertainties attendant on the unfortunate lady's situation, she was
inclined to alter her first opinion, and to think, upon the whole, that
since the Countess had withdrawn herself from the retreat in which she
had been placed by her husband, it was her first duty to repair to his
presence, and possess him with the reasons for such conduct. She knew
what importance the Earl attached to the concealment of their marriage,
and could not but own, that by taking any step to make it public
without his permission, the Countess would incur, in a high degree, the
indignation of her husband. If she retired to her father's house without
an explicit avowal of her rank, her situation was likely greatly to
prejudice her character; and if she made such an avowal, it might
occasion an irreconcilable breach with her husband. At Kenilworth,
again, she might plead her cause with her husband himself, whom Janet,
though distrusting him more than the Countess did, believed incapable
of being accessory to the base and desperate means which his dependants,
from whose power the lady was now escaping, might resort to, in order to
stifle her complaints of the treatment she had received at their hands.
But at the worst, and were the Earl himself to deny her justice and
protection, still at Kenilworth, if she chose to make her wrongs public,
the Countess might have Tressilian for her advocate, and the Queen for
her judge; for so much Janet had learned in her short conference with
Wayland. She was, therefore, on the whole, reconciled to her lady's
proposal of going towards Kenilworth, and so expressed herself;
recommending, however, to the Countess the utmost caution in making her
arrival known to her husband.

"Hast thou thyself been cautious, Janet?" said the Countess; "this
guide, in whom I must put my confidence, hast thou not entrusted to him
the secret of my condition?"

"From me he has learned nothing," said Janet; "nor do I think that he
knows more than what the public in general believe of your situation."

"And what is that?" said the lady.

"That you left your father's house--but I shall offend you again if I go
on," said Janet, interrupting herself.

"Nay, go on," said the Countess; "I must learn to endure the evil report
which my folly has brought upon me. They think, I suppose, that I have
left my father's house to follow lawless pleasure. It is an error which
will soon be removed--indeed it shall, for I will live with spotless
fame, or I shall cease to live.--I am accounted, then, the paramour of
my Leicester?"

"Most men say of Varney," said Janet; "yet some call him only the
convenient cloak of his master's pleasures; for reports of the profuse
expense in garnishing yonder apartments have secretly gone abroad, and
such doings far surpass the means of Varney. But this latter opinion is
little prevalent; for men dare hardly even hint suspicion when so high a
name is concerned, lest the Star Chamber should punish them for scandal
of the nobility."

"They do well to speak low," said the Countess, "who would mention the
illustrious Dudley as the accomplice of such a wretch as Varney.--We
have reached the postern. Ah! Janet, I must bid thee farewell! Weep not,
my good girl," said she, endeavouring to cover her own reluctance to
part with her faithful attendant under an attempt at playfulness; "and
against we meet again, reform me, Janet, that precise ruff of thine for
an open rabatine of lace and cut work, that will let men see thou hast
a fair neck; and that kirtle of Philippine chency, with that bugle lace
which befits only a chambermaid, into three-piled velvet and cloth of
gold--thou wilt find plenty of stuffs in my chamber, and I freely bestow
them on you. Thou must be brave, Janet; for though thou art now but
the attendant of a distressed and errant lady, who is both nameless and
fameless, yet, when we meet again, thou must be dressed as becomes the
gentlewoman nearest in love and in service to the first Countess in
England."

"Now, may God grant it, dear lady!" said Janet--"not that I may go
with gayer apparel, but that we may both wear our kirtles over lighter
hearts."

By this time the lock of the postern door had, after some hard
wrenching, yielded to the master-key; and the Countess, not without
internal shuddering, saw herself beyond the walls which her husband's
strict commands had assigned to her as the boundary of her walks.
Waiting with much anxiety for their appearance, Wayland Smith stood
at some distance, shrouding himself behind a hedge which bordered the
high-road.

"Is all safe?" said Janet to him anxiously, as he approached them with
caution.

"All," he replied; "but I have been unable to procure a horse for the
lady. Giles Gosling, the cowardly hilding, refused me one on any terms
whatever, lest, forsooth, he should suffer. But no matter; she must
ride on my palfrey, and I must walk by her side until I come by another
horse. There will be no pursuit, if you, pretty Mistress Janet, forget
not thy lesson."

"No more than the wise widow of Tekoa forgot the words which Joab put
into her mouth," answered Janet. "Tomorrow, I say that my lady is unable
to rise."

"Ay; and that she hath aching and heaviness of the head a throbbing at
the heart, and lists not to be disturbed. Fear not; they will take the
hint, and trouble thee with few questions--they understand the disease."

"But," said the lady, "My absence must be soon discovered, and they
will murder her in revenge. I will rather return than expose her to such
danger."

"Be at ease on my account, madam," said Janet; "I would you were as
sure of receiving the favour you desire from those to whom you must make
appeal, as I am that my father, however angry, will suffer no harm to
befall me."

The Countess was now placed by Wayland upon his horse, around the saddle
of which he had placed his cloak, so folded as to make her a commodious
seat.

"Adieu, and may the blessing of God wend with you!" said Janet, again
kissing her mistress's hand, who returned her benediction with a
mute caress. They then tore themselves asunder, and Janet, addressing
Wayland, exclaimed, "May Heaven deal with you at your need, as you are
true or false to this most injured and most helpless lady!"

"Amen! dearest Janet," replied Wayland; "and believe me, I will so
acquit myself of my trust as may tempt even your pretty eyes, saintlike
as they are, to look less scornfully on me when we next meet."

The latter part of this adieu was whispered into Janet's ear and
although she made no reply to it directly, yet her manner, influenced,
no doubt, by her desire to leave every motive in force which could
operate towards her mistress's safety, did not discourage the hope which
Wayland's words expressed. She re-entered the postern door, and locked
it behind her; while, Wayland taking the horse's bridle in his hand,
and walking close by its head, they began in silence their dubious and
moonlight journey.

Although Wayland Smith used the utmost dispatch which he could make,
yet this mode of travelling was so slow, that when morning began to dawn
through the eastern mist, he found himself no farther than about ten
miles distant from Cumnor. "Now, a plague upon all smooth-spoken
hosts!" said Wayland, unable longer to suppress his mortification and
uneasiness. "Had the false loon, Giles Gosling, but told me plainly two
days since that I was to reckon nought upon him, I had shifted better
for myself. But your hosts have such a custom of promising whatever is
called for that it is not till the steed is to be shod you find they are
out of iron. Had I but known, I could have made twenty shifts; nay, for
that matter, and in so good a cause, I would have thought little to have
prigged a prancer from the next common--it had but been sending back
the brute to the headborough. The farcy and the founders confound every
horse in the stables of the Black Bear!"

The lady endeavoured to comfort her guide, observing that the dawn would
enable him to make more speed.

"True, madam," he replied; "but then it will enable other folk to take
note of us, and that may prove an ill beginning of our journey. I
had not cared a spark from anvil about the matter had we been further
advanced on our way. But this Berkshire has been notoriously haunted,
ever since I knew the country, with that sort of malicious elves who
sit up late and rise early for no other purpose than to pry into other
folk's affairs. I have been endangered by them ere now. But do not
fear," he added, "good madam; for wit, meeting with opportunity, will
not miss to find a salve for every sore."

The alarms of her guide made more impression on the Countess's mind than
the comfort which he judged fit to administer along with it. She looked
anxiously around her, and as the shadows withdrew from the landscape,
and the heightening glow of the eastern sky promised the speedy rise of
the sun, expected at every turn that the increasing light would expose
them to the view of the vengeful pursuers, or present some dangerous
and insurmountable obstacle to the prosecution of their journey. Wayland
Smith perceived her uneasiness, and, displeased with himself for having
given her cause of alarm, strode on with affected alacrity, now talking
to the horse as one expert in the language of the stable, now whistling
to himself low and interrupted snatches of tunes, and now assuring
the lady there was no danger, while at the same time he looked sharply
around to see that there was nothing in sight which might give the
lie to his words while they were issuing from his mouth. Thus did
they journey on, until an unexpected incident gave them the means of
continuing their pilgrimage with more speed and convenience.



CHAPTER XXIV.

     RICHARD. A horse!--A horse!--my kingdom for a horse!
     CATESBY......My lord, I'll help you to a horse.  --RICHARD III.

Our travellers were in the act of passing a small thicket of trees close
by the roadside, when the first living being presented himself whom
they had seen since their departure from Cumnor Place. This was a stupid
lout, seemingly a farmer's boy, in a grey jerkin, with his head bare,
his hose about his heels, and huge startups upon his feet. He held by
the bridle what of all things they most wanted--a palfrey, namely, with
a side-saddle, and all other garniture for a woman's mounting; and he
hailed Wayland Smith with, "Zur, be ye zure the party?"

"Ay, that I be, my lad," answered Wayland, without an instant's
hesitation; and it must be owned that consciences trained in a stricter
school of morality might have given way to an occasion so tempting.
While he spoke, he caught the rein out of the boy's hand, and almost at
the same time helped down the Countess from his own horse, and aided
her to mount on that which chance had thus presented for her acceptance.
Indeed, so naturally did the whole take place, that the Countess, as it
afterwards appeared, never suspected but that the horse had been
placed there to meet them by the precaution of the guide or some of his
friends.

The lad, however, who was thus hastily dispossessed of his charge, began
to stare hard, and scratch his head, as if seized with some qualms of
conscience for delivering up the animal on such brief explanation. "I
be right zure thou be'st the party," said he, muttering to himself, "but
thou shouldst ha zaid BEANS, thou knawest."

"Ay, ay," said Wayland, speaking at a venture; "and thou BACON, thou
knowest."

"Noa, noa," said the lad; "bide ye--bide ye--it was PEAS a should ha
said."

"Well, well," answered Wayland, "Peas be it, a God's name! though Bacon
were the better password."

And being by this time mounted on his own horse, he caught the rein of
the palfrey from the uncertain hold of the hesitating young boor, flung
him a small piece of money, and made amends for lost time by riding
briskly off without further parley. The lad was still visible from the
hill up which they were riding, and Wayland, as he looked back, beheld
him standing with his fingers in his hair as immovable as a guide-post,
and his head turned in the direction in which they were escaping from
him. At length, just as they topped the hill, he saw the clown stoop to
lift up the silver groat which his benevolence had imparted. "Now this
is what I call a Godsend," said Wayland; "this is a bonny, well-ridden
bit of a going thing, and it will carry us so far till we get you as
well mounted, and then we will send it back time enough to satisfy the
Hue and Cry."

But he was deceived in his expectations; and fate, which seemed at first
to promise so fairly, soon threatened to turn the incident which he thus
gloried in into the cause of their utter ruin.

They had not ridden a short mile from the place where they left the
lad before they heard a man's voice shouting on the wind behind them,
"Robbery! robbery!--Stop thief!" and similar exclamations, which
Wayland's conscience readily assured him must arise out of the
transaction to which he had been just accessory.

"I had better have gone barefoot all my life," he said; "it is the Hue
and Cry, and I am a lost man. Ah! Wayland, Wayland, many a time thy
father said horse-flesh would be the death of thee. Were I once safe
among the horse-coursers in Smithfield, or Turnbull Street, they should
have leave to hang me as high as St. Paul's if I e'er meddled more with
nobles, knights, or gentlewomen."

Amidst these dismal reflections, he turned his head repeatedly to see by
whom he was chased, and was much comforted when he could only discover
a single rider, who was, however, well mounted, and came after them at
a speed which left them no chance of escaping, even had the lady's
strength permitted her to ride as fast as her palfrey might have been
able to gallop.

"There may be fair play betwixt us, sure," thought Wayland, "where there
is but one man on each side, and yonder fellow sits on his horse more
like a monkey than a cavalier. Pshaw! if it come to the worse, it will
be easy unhorsing him. Nay, 'snails! I think his horse will take the
matter in his own hand, for he has the bridle betwixt his teeth. Oons,
what care I for him?" said he, as the pursuer drew yet nearer; "it is
but the little animal of a mercer from Abingdon, when all is over."

Even so it was, as the experienced eye of Wayland had descried at a
distance. For the valiant mercer's horse, which was a beast of mettle,
feeling himself put to his speed, and discerning a couple of horses
riding fast at some hundred yards' distance before him, betook himself
to the road with such alacrity as totally deranged the seat of his
rider, who not only came up with, but passed at full gallop, those
whom he had been pursuing, pulling the reins with all his might, and
ejaculating, "Stop! stop!" an interjection which seemed rather to
regard his own palfrey than what seamen call "the chase." With the same
involuntary speed, he shot ahead (to use another nautical phrase) about
a furlong ere he was able to stop and turn his horse, and then rode back
towards our travellers, adjusting, as well as he could, his disordered
dress, resettling himself in the saddle, and endeavouring to substitute
a bold and martial frown for the confusion and dismay which sat upon his
visage during his involuntary career.