IV.—­The Death of the Countess

Armed with the authority of Leicester’s signet-ring Varney induced the countess to leave Kenilworth for Cumnor, declaring that the earl had ordered it for his own safety.  But no sooner was the lady gone than Leicester repented of the consent Varney had wrested from him.  An interview with Tressilian and the recovery of a letter written by Amy at Cumnor revealed all Varney’s villainy.  Too late he acknowledged his marriage to the queen, and when the fury of Elizabeth’s anger had somewhat subsided, she ordered Tressilian and Sir Walter Raleigh to repair at once to Cumnor, bring the countess to Kenilworth, and secure the body of Richard Varney, dead or alive.

But Varney’s fell purpose had already decided that the countess must be got rid of.  A part of the wooden gallery immediately outside her door was really a trap-door, and beneath it was an abyss dark as pitch.  This trap-door remained secure in appearance even when the supports were withdrawn beneath it.

“Were the lady to attempt an escape over it,” said Varney, to his accomplice Foster, who held the house by Varney’s favour, “her weight would carry her down.”

“A mouse’s weight would do it,” Foster answered.

“Why, then, she die in attempting her escape, and what could you or I help it?  Let us, to bed; we will adjust our project to-morrow.”

On the next day, when evening approached, Varney summoned Foster to the execution of their plan.  Foster himself, as if anxious to see that the countess suffered no want of accommodations, visited her place of confinement.  He was so much staggered at her mildness and patience, that he could not help earnestly recommending to her not to cross the threshold on any account until Lord Leicester should come.  Amy promised that she would resign herself to her fate, and Foster returned to his hardened companion with his conscience half-eased of the perilous load that weighed on it.  “I have warned her,” he said; “surely in vain is the snare set in the sight of any bird!”

He left the countess’s door unsecured on the outside, and, under the eye of Varney, withdrew the supports which sustained the falling trap, which, therefore, kept its level position merely by a slight adhesion.  They withdrew to wait the issue on the ground floor adjoining; but they waited long in vain.

“Perhaps she is resolved,” said Foster, “to await her husband’s return.”

“True!  Most true!” said Varney, rushing out; “I had not thought of that before.”

In less than two minutes, Foster, who remained behind, heard the tread of a horse in the courtyard, and then a whistle similar to that which was the earl’s usual signal.  The instant after the door to the countess’s chamber opened, and in the same moment the trap-door gave way.  There was a rushing sound—­a heavy fall—­a faint groan, and all was over.

At the same instant Varney called in at the window, “Is the bird caught?  Is the deed done?”