“How, my Lord of Leicester!” said the lady, disengaging herself from his embraces; “is it to your wife you give the dishonourable counsel to acknowledge herself the bride of another—­and of all men, the bride of that 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 his service 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 he shakes even under that assured look of his.  But he that is necessary as your right hand to your safety is free from any accusation of mine.  May he be true to you; and that he may be true, trust him not too much or too far.  But it is enough to say that I will not go with him unless by violence, nor would I acknowledge him as my husband were all—­”

“It is a temporary deception, madam,” said Leicester, irritated by her opposition, “necessary for both our safeties, endangered by you through female caprice, or the premature desire to seize on a rank to which I gave you title only under condition that our marriage, for a time, should continue secret.  If my proposal disgust you, it is yourself has brought it on both of us.  There is no other remedy—­you must do what your own impatient folly hath rendered necessary—­I command you.”

“I cannot put your commands, my lord,” said Amy, “in balance with those of honour and conscience.  I will not, in this instance, obey you.  You may achieve your own dishonour, to which these crooked policies naturally tend, but I will do nought that can blemish mine.  How could you again, my lord, acknowledge me as a pure and chaste matron, worthy to share your fortunes, when, holding that high character, I had strolled the country the acknowledged wife of such a profligate fellow as your servant Varney?”

“My lord,” said Varney interposing, “my lady is too much prejudiced against me, unhappily, to listen to what I can offer, yet it may please her better than what she proposes.  She has good interest with Master Edmund Tressilian, and could doubtless prevail on him to consent to be her companion to Lidcote Hall, and there she might remain in safety until time permitted the development of this mystery.”

Leicester was silent, but stood looking eagerly on Amy, with eyes which seemed 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 honour behind me.”

Varney proceeded with a tone of deliberation.  “Doubtless this will make it necessary to take strangers into my lord’s counsels; but surely the Countess will be warrant for the honour of Master Tressilian, and such of her father’s family—­”

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