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.”