ixt him and Mistress
Amy Robsart."

Leicester's flesh quivered with indignation as he heard his dependant
make this avowal, and for one moment he manned himself to step forward,
and, bidding farewell to the court and the royal favour, confess the
whole mystery of the secret marriage. But he looked at Sussex, and the
idea of the triumphant smile which would clothe his cheek upon hearing
the avowal sealed his lips. "Not now, at least," he thought, "or in this
presence, will I afford him so rich a triumph." And pressing his lips
close together, he stood firm and collected, attentive to each word
which Varney uttered, and determined to hide to the last the secret on
which his court-favour seemed to depend. Meanwhile, the Queen proceeded
in her examination of Varney.

"Love passages!" said she, echoing his last words; "what passages, thou
knave? and why not ask the wench's hand from her father, if thou hadst
any honesty in thy love for her?"

"An it please your Grace," said Varney, still on his knees, "I dared not
do so, for her father had promised her hand to a gentleman of birth and
honour--I will do him justice, though I know he bears me ill-will--one
Master Edmund Tressilian, whom I now see in the presence."

"Soh!" replied the Queen. "And what was your right to make the simple
fool break her worthy father's contract, through your love PASSAGES, as
your conceit and assurance terms them?"

"Madam," replied Varney, "it is in vain to plead the cause of human
frailty before a judge to whom it is unknown, or that of love to one who
never yields to the passion"--he paused an instant, and then added, in a
very low and timid tone--"which she inflicts upon all others."

Elizabeth tried to frown, but smiled in her own despite, as she
answered, "Thou art a marvellously impudent knave. Art thou married to
the girl?"

Leicester's feelings became so complicated and so painfully intense,
that it seemed to him as if his life was to depend on the answer made by
Varney, who, after a moment's real hesitation, answered, "Yes."

"Thou false villain!" said Leicester, bursting forth into rage, yet
unable to add another word to the sentence which he had begun with such
emphatic passion.

"Nay, my lord," said the Queen, "we will, by your leave, stand between
this fellow and your anger. We have not yet done with him.--Knew your
master, my Lord of Leicester, of this fair work of yours? Speak truth, I
command thee, and I will be thy warr