Kenilworth

  CHAPTER XXXV.

  Sincerity, Thou first of virtues! let no mortal leave Thy onward path, although the earth should gape, And from the gulf of hell destruction cry, To take dissimulation's winding way. --DOUGLAS.

  It was not till after a long and successful morning's sport, and aprolonged repast which followed the return of the Queen to the Castle,that Leicester at length found himself alone with Varney, from whom henow learned the whole particulars of the Countess's escape, as theyhad been brought to Kenilworth by Foster, who, in his terror for theconsequences, had himself posted thither with the tidings. As Varney,in his narrative, took especial care to be silent concerning thosepractices on the Countess's health which had driven her to so desperatea resolution, Leicester, who could only suppose that she had adoptedit out of jealous impatience to attain the avowed state and appearancebelonging to her rank, was not a little offended at the levity withwhich his wife had broken his strict commands, and exposed him to theresentment of Elizabeth.

  "I have given," he said, "to this daughter of an obscure Devonshiregentleman the proudest name in England. I have made her sharer of my bedand of my fortunes. I ask but of her a little patience, ere she launchesforth upon the full current of her grandeur; and the infatuated womanwill rather hazard her own shipwreck and mine--will rather involve mein a thousand whirlpools, shoals, and quicksands, and compel me toa thousand devices which shame me in mine own eyes--than tarry for alittle space longer in the obscurity to which she was born. So lovely,so delicate, so fond, so faithful, yet to lack in so grave a matter theprudence which one might hope from the veriest fool--it puts me beyondmy patience."

  "We may post it over yet well enough," said Varney, "if my lady will bebut ruled, and take on her the character which the time commands."

  "It is but too true, Sir Richard," said Leicester; "there is indeed noother remedy. I have heard her termed thy wife in my presence,without contradiction. She must bear the title until she is far fromKenilworth."

  "And long afterwards, I trust," said Varney; then instantly added, "ForI cannot but hope it will be long after ere she bear the title of LadyLeicester--I fear me it may scarce be with safety during the life ofthis Queen. But your lordship is best judge, you alone knowing whatpassages have taken place betwixt Elizabeth and you."

  "You are right, Varney," said Leicester. "I have this morning been bothfool and villain; and when Elizabeth hears of my unhappy marriage, shecannot but think herself treated with that premeditated slight whichwomen never forgive. We have once this day stood upon terms little shortof defiance; and to those, I fear, we must again return."

  "Is her resentment, then, so implacable?" said Varney.

  "Far from it," replied the Earl; "for, being what she is in spirit andin station, she has even this day been but too condescending, in givingme opportunities to repair what she thinks my faulty heat of temper."

  "Ay," answered Varney; "the Italians say right--in lovers' quarrels, theparty that loves most is always most willing to acknowledge the greaterfault. So then, my lord, if this union with the lady could be concealed,you stand with Elizabeth as you did?"

  Leicester sighed, and was silent for a moment, ere he replied.

  "Varney, I think thou art true to me, and I will tell thee all. I do NOTstand where I did. I have spoken to Elizabeth--under what mad impulseI know not--on a theme which cannot be abandoned without touchingevery female feeling to the quick, and which yet I dare not and cannotprosecute. She can never, never forgive me for having caused andwitnessed those yieldings to human passion."

  "We must do something, my lord," said Varney, "and that speedily."

  "There is nought to be done," answered Leicester, despondingly. "I amlike one that has long toiled up a dangerous precipice, and when he iswithin one perilous stride of the top, finds his progress arrestedwhen retreat has become impossible. I see above me the pinnacle which Icannot reach--beneath me the abyss into which I must fall, as soon asmy relaxing grasp and dizzy brain join to hurl me from my presentprecarious stance."

  "Think better of your situation, my lord," said Varney; "let us try theexperiment in which you have but now acquiesced. Keep we your marriagefrom Elizabeth's knowledge, and all may yet be well. I will instantly goto the lady myself. She hates me, because I have been earnest with yourlordship, as she truly suspects, in opposition to what she terms herrights. I care not for her prejudices--she SHALL listen to me; and Iwill show her such reasons for yielding to the pressure of the timesthat I doubt not to bring back her consent to whatever measures theseexigencies may require."

  "No, Varney," said Leicester; "I have thought upon what is to be done,and I will myself speak with Amy."

  It was now Varney's turn to feel upon his own account the terrorswhich he affected to participate solely on account of his patron. "Yourlordship will not yourself speak with the lady?"

  "It is my fixed purpose," said Leicester. "Fetch me one of thelivery-cloaks; I will pass the sentinel as thy servant. Thou art to havefree access to her."

  "But, my lord--"

  "I will have no BUTS," replied Leicester; "it shall be even thus, andnot otherwise. Hunsdon sleeps, I think, in Saintlowe's Tower. We can gothither from these apartments by the private passage, without risk ofmeeting any one. Or what if I do meet Hunsdon? he is more my friend thanenemy, and thick-witted enough to adopt any belief that is thrust onhim. Fetch me the cloak instantly."

  Varney had no alternative save obedience. In a few minutes Leicester wasmuffled in the mantle, pulled his bonnet over his brows, and followedVarney along the secret passage of the Castle which communicated withHunsdon's apartments, in which there was scarce a chance of meetingany inquisitive person, and hardly light enough for any such to havesatisfied their curiosity. They emerged at a door where Lord Hunsdonhad, with military precaution, placed a sentinel, one of his ownnorthern retainers as it fortuned, who readily admitted Sir RichardVarney and his attendant, saying only, in his northern dialect, "Iwould, man, thou couldst make the mad lady be still yonder; for hermoans do sae dirl through my head that I would rather keep watch on asnowdrift, in the wastes of Catlowdie."

  They hastily entered, and shut the door behind them.

  "Now, good devil, if there be one," said Varney, within himself,"for once help a votary at a dead pinch, for my boat is amongst thebreakers!"

  The Countess Amy, with her hair and her garments dishevelled, was seatedupon a sort of couch, in an attitude of the deepest affliction, out ofwhich she was startled by the opening of the door. Size turned hastilyround, and fixing her eye on Varney, exclaimed, "Wretch! art thou cometo frame some new plan of villainy?"

  Leicester cut short her reproaches by stepping forward and dropping hiscloak, while he said, in a voice rather of authority than of affection,"It is with me, madam, you have to commune, not with Sir RichardVarney."

  The change effected on the Countess's look and manner was like magic."Dudley!" she exclaimed, "Dudley! and art thou come at last?" And withthe speed of lightning she flew to her husband, clung round his neck,and unheeding the presence of Varney, overwhelmed him with caresses,while she bathed his face in a flood of tears, muttering, at thesame time, but in broken and disjointed monosyllables, the fondestexpressions which Love teaches his votaries.

  Leicester, as it seemed to him, had reason to be angry with his ladyfor transgressing his commands, and thus placing him in the periloussituation in which he had that morning stood. But what displeasure couldkeep its ground before these testimonies of affection from a being solovely, that even the negligence of dress, and the withering effectsof fear, grief, and fatigue, which would have impaired the beauty ofothers, rendered hers but the more interesting. He received and repaidher caresses with fondness mingled with melancholy, the last of whichshe seemed scarcely to observe, until the first transport of her own joywas over, when, looking anxiously in his face, she asked if he was ill.

  "Not in my body, Amy," was his answer.

  "Then I will be well too. O
Dudley! I have been ill!--very ill, sincewe last met!--for I call not this morning's horrible vision a meeting.I have been in sickness, in grief, and in danger. But thou art come, andall is joy, and health, and safety!"

  "Alas, Amy," said Leicester, "thou hast undone me!"

  "I, my lord?" said Amy, her cheek at once losing its transient flush ofjoy--"how could I injure that which I love better than myself?"

  "I would not upbraid you, Amy," replied the Earl; "but are you nothere contrary to my express commands--and does not your presence hereendanger both yourself and me?"

  "Does it, does it indeed?" she exclaimed eagerly; "then why am I here amoment longer? Oh, if you knew by what fears I was urged to quit CumnorPlace! But I will say nothing of myself--only that if it might beotherwise, I would not willingly return THITHER; yet if it concern yoursafety--"

  "We will think, Amy, of some other retreat," said Leicester; "and youshall go to one of my northern castles, under the personage--it will bebut needful, I trust, for a very few days--of Varney's wife."

  "How, my Lord of Leicester!" said the lady, disengaging herself fromhis embraces; "is it to your wife you give the dishonourable counsel toacknowledge herself the bride of another--and of all men, the bride ofthat Varney?"

  "Madam, I speak it in earnest--Varney is my true and faithful servant,trusted in my deepest secrets. I had better lose my right hand than hisservice at this moment. You have no cause to scorn him as you do."

  "I could assign one, my lord," replied the Countess; "and I see heshakes even under that assured look of his. But he that is necessary asyour right hand to your safety is free from any accusation of mine. Mayhe be true to you; and that he may be true, trust him not too much ortoo far. But it is enough to say that I will not go with him unless byviolence, nor would I acknowledge him as my husband were all--"

  "It is a temporary deception, madam," said Leicester, irritated by heropposition, "necessary for both our safeties, endangered by you throughfemale caprice, or the premature desire to seize on a rank to whichI gave you title only under condition that our marriage, for a time,should continue secret. If my proposal disgust you, it is yourself hasbrought it on both of us. There is no other remedy--you must do whatyour own impatient folly hath rendered necessary--I command you."

  "I cannot put your commands, my lord," said Amy, "in balance with thoseof honour and conscience. I will NOT, in this instance, obey you.You may achieve your own dishonour, to which these crooked policiesnaturally tend, but I will do nought that can blemish mine. How couldyou again, my lord, acknowledge me as a pure and chaste matron, worthyto share your fortunes, when, holding that high character, I hadstrolled the country the acknowledged wife of such a profligate fellowas your servant Varney?"

  "My lord," said Varney interposing, "my lady is too much prejudicedagainst me, unhappily, to listen to what I can offer, yet it may pleaseher better than what she proposes. She has good interest with MasterEdmund Tressilian, and could doubtless prevail on him to consent tobe her companion to Lidcote Hall, and there she might remain in safetyuntil time permitted the development of this mystery."

  Leicester was silent, but stood looking eagerly on Amy, with eyes whichseemed suddenly to glow as much with suspicion as displeasure.

  The Countess only said, "Would to God I were in my father's house!When I left it, I little thought I was leaving peace of mind and honourbehind me."

  Varney proceeded with a tone of deliberation. "Doubtless this will makeit necessary to take strangers into my lord's counsels; but surely theCountess will be warrant for the honour of Master Tressilian, and suchof her father's family--"

  "Peace, Varney," said Leicester; "by Heaven I will strike my dagger intothee if again thou namest Tressilian as a partner of my counsels!"

  "And wherefore not!" said the Countess; "unless they be counsels fitterfor such as Varney, than for a man of stainless honour and integrity. Mylord, my lord, bend no angry brows on me; it is the truth, and it is Iwho speak it. I once did Tressilian wrong for your sake; I will not dohim the further injustice of being silent when his honour is brought inquestion. I can forbear," she said, looking at Varney, "to pull themask off hypocrisy, but I will not permit virtue to be slandered in myhearing."

  There was a dead pause. Leicester stood displeased, yet undetermined,and too conscious of the weakness of his cause; while Varney, with adeep and hypocritical affectation of sorrow, mingled with humility, benthis eyes on the ground.

  It was then that the Countess Amy displayed, in the midst of distressand difficulty, the natural energy of character which would haverendered her, had fate allowed, a distinguished ornament of the rankwhich she held. She walked up to Leicester with a composed step, adignified air, and looks in which strong affection essayed in vain toshake the firmness of conscious, truth and rectitude of principle. "Youhave spoken your mind, my lord," she said, "in these difficulties,with which, unhappily, I have found myself unable to comply. Thisgentleman--this person I would say--has hinted at another scheme, towhich I object not but as it displeases you. Will your lordship bepleased to hear what a young and timid woman, but your most affectionatewife, can suggest in the present extremity?"

  Leicester was silent, but bent his head towards the Countess, as anintimation that she was at liberty to proceed.

  "There hath been but one cause for all these evils, my lord," sheproceeded, "and it resolves itself into the mysterious duplicity withwhich you, have been induced to surround yourself. Extricate yourself atonce, my lord, from the tyranny of these disgraceful trammels. Be likea true English gentleman, knight, and earl, who holds that truth is thefoundation of honour, and that honour is dear to him as the breath ofhis nostrils. Take your ill-fated wife by the hand, lead her to thefootstool of Elizabeth's throne--say that in a moment of infatuation,moved by supposed beauty, of which none perhaps can now trace even theremains, I gave my hand to this Amy Robsart. You will then have donejustice to me, my lord, and to your own honour and should law or powerrequire you to part from me, I will oppose no objection, since I maythen with honour hide a grieved and broken heart in those shades fromwhich your love withdrew me. Then--have but a little patience, and Amy'slife will not long darken your brighter prospects."

  There was so much of dignity, so much of tenderness, in the Countess'sremonstrance, that it moved all that was noble and generous in thesoul of her husband. The scales seemed to fall from his eyes, and theduplicity and tergiversation of which he had been guilty stung him atonce with remorse and shame.

  "I am not worthy of you, Amy," he said, "that could weigh aught whichambition has to give against such a heart as thine. I have a bitterpenance to perform, in disentangling, before sneering foes and astoundedfriends, all the meshes of my own deceitful policy. And the Queen--butlet her take my head, as she has threatened."

  "Take your head, my lord!" said the Countess, "because you used thefreedom and liberty of an English subject in choosing a wife? For shame!it is this distrust of the Queen's justice, this apprehension of danger,which cannot but be imaginary, that, like scarecrows, have induced youto forsake the straightforward path, which, as it is the best, is alsothe safest."

  "Ah, Amy, thou little knowest!" said Dudley but instantly checkinghimself, he added, "Yet she shall not find in me a safe or easy victimof arbitrary vengeance. I have friends--I have allies--I will not, likeNorfolk, be dragged to the block as a victim to sacrifice. Fear not,Amy; thou shalt see Dudley bear himself worthy of his name. I mustinstantly communicate with some of those friends on whom I can bestrely; for, as things stand, I may be made prisoner in my own Castle."

  "Oh, my good lord," said Amy, "make no faction in a peaceful state!There is no friend can help us so well as our own candid truth andhonour. Bring but these to our assistance, and you are safe amidst awhole army of the envious and malignant. Leave these behind you, and allother defence will be fruitless. Truth, my noble lord, is well paintedunarmed."

  "But Wisdom, Amy," answered Leicester, "is arrayed in panoply ofproof. Argue not w
ith me on the means I shall use to render myconfession--since it must be called so--as safe as may be; it willbe fraught with enough of danger, do what we will.--Varney, we musthence.--Farewell, Amy, whom I am to vindicate as mine own, at an expenseand risk of which thou alone couldst be worthy. You shall soon hearfurther from me."

  He embraced her fervently, muffled himself as before, and accompaniedVarney from the apartment. The latter, as he left the room, bowed low,and as he raised his body, regarded Amy with a peculiar expression,as if he desired to know how far his own pardon was included in thereconciliation which had taken place betwixt her and her lord. TheCountess looked upon him with a fixed eye, but seemed no more consciousof his presence than if there had been nothing but vacant air on thespot where he stood.

  "She has brought me to the crisis," he muttered--"she or I am lost.There was something--I wot not if it was fear or pity--that prompted meto avoid this fatal crisis. It is now decided--she or I must PERISH."

  While he thus spoke, he observed, with surprise, that a boy, repulsed bythe sentinel, made up to Leicester, and spoke with him. Varney was oneof those politicians whom not the slightest appearances escape withoutinquiry. He asked the sentinel what the lad wanted with him, andreceived for answer that the boy had wished him to transmit a parcelto the mad lady; but that he cared not to take charge of it, suchcommunication being beyond his commission, His curiosity satisfied inthat particular, he approached his patron, and heard him say, "Well,boy, the packet shall be delivered."

  "Thanks, good Master Serving-man," said the boy, and was out of sight inan instant.

  Leicester and Varney returned with hasty steps to the Earl's privateapartment, by the same passage which had conducted them to Saintlowe'sTower.