d to recall what she were best to say, which
might secure herself from the imminent dangers that surrounded her,
without endangering her husband; and plunging from one thought to
another, amidst the chaos which filled her mind, she could at length,
in answer to the Queen's repeated inquiries in what she sought
protection, only falter out, "Alas! I know not."

"This is folly, maiden," said Elizabeth impatiently; for there was
something in the extreme confusion of the suppliant which irritated
her curiosity as well as interested her feelings. "The sick man must
tell his malady to the physician; nor are WE accustomed to ask
questions so oft, without receiving an answer."

"I request--I implore--" stammered forth the unfortunate countess--"I
beseech your gracious protection--against--against one Varney." She
choked well-nigh as she uttered the fatal word, which was instantly
caught up by the Queen.

"What, Varney--Sir Richard Varney--the servant of Lord Leicester!
What, damsel, are you to him, or he to you?"

"I--I--was his prisoner--and he practised on my life--and I broke
forth to--to--"

"To throw thyself on my protection, doubtless," said Elizabeth. "Thou
shalt have it--that is, if thou art worthy; for we will sift this
matter to the uttermost.--Thou art," she said, bending on the countess
an eye which seemed designed to pierce her very inmost soul,--"thou
art Amy, daughter of Sir Hugh Robsart of Lidcote Hall?"

"Forgive me--forgive me--most gracious princess!" said Amy, dropping
once more on her knee from which she had arisen.

"For what should I forgive thee, silly wench?" said Elizabeth; "for
being the daughter of thine own father? Thou art brainsick, surely.
Well, I see I must wring the story from thee by inches: Thou didst
deceive thine old and honored father,--thy look confesses it; cheated
Master Tressilian,--thy blush avouches it; and married this same
Varney."

Amy sprung on her feet, and interrupted the Queen eagerly with--"No,
madam, no: as there is a God above us, I am not the sordid wretch you
would make me! I am not the wife of that contemptible slave--of that
most deliberate villain! I am not the wife of Varney! I would rather
be the bride of Destruction!"

The Queen, overwhelmed in her turn by Amy's vehemence, stood silent
for an instant, and then replied, "Why, God ha' mercy, woman! I see
thou canst talk fast enough when the theme likes thee. Nay, tell me,
woman," she continued, for to the i