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

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

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

Amy, thinking her husband in danger from the rage of an offended Sovereign, instantly forgot her own wrongs, and throwing herself before the queen, exclaimed, “He is guiltless, madam—­he is guiltless; no one can lay aught to the charge of noble Leicester!”

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

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

“What means this saucy intrusion?” said Elizabeth.

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

Amy started up at the sight of the man she deemed most odious so near her, and besought the queen to save her from “that most shameless villain!” “I shall go mad if I look longer on him.”

“Beshrew me, but I think thou art distraught already,” answered the queen.  Then she bade Lord Hunsdon, a blunt, warm-hearted old noble, “Look to this poor distressed young woman, and let her be safely bestowed, till we require her to be forthcoming.”

“By our Lady,” said Hunsdon, taking in his strong arms the swooning form of Amy, “she is a lovely child!  And though a rough nurse, your Grace hath given her a kind one.  She is safe with me as one of my own ladybirds of daughters.”

So saying he carried her off, and the queen followed him with her eye, and then turned angrily to Varney, for Leicester stared gloomily on the ground.

“Speak, Sir Richard, and explain these riddles.”

“Your Majesty’s piercing eye,” said Varney, “has already detected the cruel malady of my beloved lady.  It is the nature of persons in her disorder, so please your Grace, to be ever most inveterate in their spleen against those whom, in their better moments, they hold nearest and dearest.  May your Grace then be pleased to command my unfortunate wife to be delivered into the custody of my friends?”

Leicester partly started, but making a stronger effort, he subdued his emotion, while Elizabeth answered sharply, that her own physician should report on the lady’s health.

That night Leicester sought the countess in her apartment, and would have avowed his marriage to the queen, but for Varney’s influence.  Finding all other argument vain, Varney finally urged that the countess was in love with Tressilian, and mentioned that he had seen him at Cumnor.  Leicester allowed his mind to be poisoned, and was silent when, on the Queen’s physician declaring Lady Varney to be sullen and the victim of fancies, Elizabeth answered, “Nay, then away with her all speed.  Let Varney care for her with fitting humanity, but let them rid the castle of her forthwith.”