o be the personage she really
was. Amy had arisen from her seat with the purpose of addressing the
lady, who entered the grotto alone, and as she at first thought, so
opportunely. But when she recollected the alarm which Leicester had
exprest at the Queen's knowing aught of their union, and became more
and more satisfied that the person whom she now beheld was Elizabeth
herself, she stood with one foot advanced and one withdrawn, her arms,
head, and hands perfectly motionless, and her cheek as pallid as the
alabaster pedestal against which she leaned. Her dress was of a pale
sea-green silk, little distinguished in that imperfect light, and
somewhat resembled the drapery of a Grecian nymph,--such an antique
disguise having been thought the most secure where so many maskers and
revelers were assembled; so that the Queen's doubt of her being a
living form was justified by all contingent circumstances, as well as
by the bloodless cheek and fixt eye.

From her dress, and the casket which she instinctively held in her
hand, Elizabeth naturally conjectured that the beautiful, but mute
figure which she beheld was a performer in one of the various
theatrical pageants which had been placed in different situations to
surprize her with their homage; and that the poor player, overcome
with awe at her presence, had either forgot the part assigned her, or
lacked courage to go through it. It was natural and courteous to give
her some encouragement; and Elizabeth accordingly said, in a tone of
condescending kindness: "How now, fair nymph of this lovely
grotto--art thou spellbound and struck with dumbness by the wicked
enchanter whom men term Fear? We are his sworn enemy, maiden, and can
reverse his charm. Speak, we command thee."

Instead of answering her by speech, the unfortunate countess dropt on
her knee before the Queen, let her casket fall from her hand, and
clasping her palms together, looked up in the Queen's face with such a
mixt agony of fear and supplication, that Elizabeth was considerably
affected.

"What may this mean?" she said: "this is a stronger passion than
befits the occasion. Stand up, damsel: what wouldst thou have with
us?"

"Your protection, madam," faltered forth the unhappy petitioner.

"Each daughter of England has it while she is worthy of it," replied
the Queen; "but your distress seems to have a deeper root than a
forgotten task. Why, and in what, do you crave our protection?"

Amy hastily endeavore