"Nay, my lord, now you mock me," replied the Countess; "the gaiety of
this rich lodging exceeds my imagination as much as it does my desert.
But shall not your wife, my love--at least one day soon--be surrounded
with the honour which arises neither from the toils of the mechanic
who decks her apartment, nor from the silks and jewels with which your
generosity adorns her, but which is attached to her place among the
matronage, as the avowed wife of England's noblest Earl?"

"One day?" said her husband. "Yes, Amy, my love, one day this shall
surely happen; and, believe me, thou canst not wish for that day more
fondly than I. With what rapture could I retire from labours of state,
and cares and toils of ambition, to spend my life in dignity and honour
on my own broad domains, with thee, my lovely Amy, for my friend and
companion! But, Amy, this cannot yet be; and these dear but stolen
interviews are all I can give to the loveliest and the best beloved of
her sex."

"But WHY can it not be?" urged the Countess, in the softest tones of
persuasion--"why can it not immediately take place--this more perfect,
this uninterrupted union, for which you say you wish, and which the laws
of God and man alike command? Ah! did you but desire it half as much
as you say, mighty and favoured as you are, who or what should bar your
attaining your wish?"

The Earl's brow was overcast.

"Amy," he said, "you speak of what you understand not. We that toil in
courts are like those who climb a mountain of loose sand--we dare make
no halt until some projecting rock affords us a secure footing and
resting-place. If we pause sooner, we slide down by our own weight,
an object of universal derision. I stand high, but I stand not secure
enough to follow my own inclination. To declare my marriage were to be
the artificer of my own ruin. But, believe me, I will reach a point, and
that speedily, when I can do justice to thee and to myself. Meantime,
poison not the bliss of the present moment, by desiring that which
cannot at present be, Let me rather know whether all here is managed
to thy liking. How does Foster bear himself to you?--in all things
respectful, I trust, else the fellow shall dearly rue it."

"He reminds me sometimes of the necessity of this privacy," answered
the lady, with a sigh; "but that is reminding me of your wishes, and
therefore I am rather bound to him than disposed to blame him for it."

"I have told you the stern necessity