especting Varney and Lambourne, led him to judge that the
letter must be designed for the Earl's own hand, and that he might
prejudice the lady by giving it to any of the domestics. He made an
attempt or two to obtain an audience of Leicester; but the singularity
of his features and the meanness of his appearance occasioned his being
always repulsed by the insolent menials whom he applied to for that
purpose. Once, indeed, he had nearly succeeded, when, in prowling
about, he found in the grotto the casket, which he knew to belong to the
unlucky Countess, having seen it on her journey; for nothing escaped his
prying eye. Having striven in vain to restore it either to Tressilian
or the Countess, he put it into the hands, as we have seen, of Leicester
himself, but unfortunately he did not recognize him in his disguise.

At length the boy thought he was on the point of succeeding when the
Earl came down to the lower part of the hall; but just as he was about
to accost him, he was prevented by Tressilian. As sharp in ear as in
wit, the boy heard the appointment settled betwixt them, to take place
in the Pleasance, and resolved to add a third to the party, in hope
that, either in coming or returning, he might find an opportunity of
delivering the letter to Leicester; for strange stories began to flit
among the domestics, which alarmed him for the lady's safety. Accident,
however, detained Dickon a little behind the Earl, and as he reached
the arcade he saw them engaged in combat; in consequence of which he
hastened to alarm the guard, having little doubt that what bloodshed
took place betwixt them might arise out of his own frolic. Continuing to
lurk in the portico, he heard the second appointment which Leicester at
parting assigned to Tressilian; and was keeping them in view during
the encounter of the Coventry men, when, to his surprise, he recognized
Wayland in the crowd, much disguised, indeed, but not sufficiently so to
escape the prying glance of his old comrade. They drew aside out of the
crowd to explain their situation to each other. The boy confessed to
Wayland what we have above told; and the artist, in return, informed him
that his deep anxiety for the fate of the unfortunate lady had brought
him back to the neighbourhood of the Castle, upon his learning
that morning, at a village about ten miles distant, that Varney
and Lambourne, whose violence he dreaded, had both left Kenilworth
over-night.

While they spoke,