her's!"

Leicester had not conscious innocence, but he had pride, to support
him. He raised slowly his brow and features, which were black and
swollen with contending emotions, and only replied, "My head can not
fall but by the sentence of my peers; to them I will plead, and not to
a princess who thus requites my faithful service."

"What! my lords," said Elizabeth, looking around, "we are defied, I
think--defied in the castle we have ourselves bestowed on this proud
man?[11]--My Lord Shrewsbury, you are marshal of England: attach him
for high treason."

"Whom does your Grace mean?" said Shrewsbury, much surprized,--for he
had that instant joined the astonished circle.

"Whom should I mean but that traitor Dudley, Earl of
Leicester!--Cousin of Hunsdon, order out your band of gentlemen
pensioners, and take him into custody.--I say, villain, make haste!"

Hunsdon, a rough old noble, who, from his relationship to the Boleyns,
was accustomed to use more freedom with the Queen than almost any
other dared to do, replied bluntly, "And it is like your Grace might
order me to the Tower to-morrow for making too much haste. I do
beseech you to be patient."

"Patient--God's life!" exclaimed the Queen, "name not the word to me:
thou know'st not of what he is guilty!"

Amy, who had by this time in some degree recovered herself, and who
saw her husband, as she conceived, in the utmost danger from the rage
of an offended sovereign, instantly (and alas, how many women have
done the same!) forgot her own wrongs and her own danger in her
apprehensions for him; and throwing herself before the Queen, embraced
her knees, while she exclaimed, "He is guiltless, madam, he is
guiltless--no one can lay aught to the charge of the noble Leicester."

"Why, minion," answered the Queen, "didst not thou thyself say that
the Earl of Leicester was privy to thy whole history?"

"Did I say so?" repeated the unhappy Amy, laying aside every
consideration of consistency and of self-interest: "oh, if I did, I
foully belied him. May God so judge me, as I believe he was never
privy to a thought that would harm me!"

"Woman!" said Elizabeth, "I will know who has moved thee to this; or
my wrath--and the wrath of kings is a flaming fire--shall wither and
consume thee like a weed in the furnace."

As the Queen uttered this threat, Leicester's better angel called his
pride to his aid, and reproached him with the utter extremity of
meanness which would o