e to her and to myself--and I wot not what. Methinks I have
done less than justice to myself already. And she speaks as if Elizabeth
were to receive the knowledge of this matter with the glee of a mother
hearing of the happy marriage of a hopeful son! She, the daughter of
Henry, who spared neither man in his anger nor woman in his desire--she
to find herself tricked, drawn on with toys of passion to the verge of
acknowledging her love to a subject, and he discovered to be a married
man!--Elizabeth to learn that she had been dallied with in such fashion,
as a gay courtier might trifle with a country wench--we should then see,
to our ruin, FURENS QUID FAEMINA!"

He would then pause, and call for Varney, whose advice was now more
frequently resorted to than ever, because the Earl remembered the
remonstrances which he had made against his secret contract. And their
consultation usually terminated in anxious deliberation how, or in what
manner, the Countess was to be produced at Kenilworth. These communings
had for some time ended always in a resolution to delay the Progress
from day to day. But at length a peremptory decision became necessary.

"Elizabeth will not be satisfied without her presence," said the Earl.
"Whether any suspicion hath entered her mind, as my own apprehensions
suggest, or whether the petition of Tressilian is kept in her memory
by Sussex or some other secret enemy, I know not; but amongst all the
favourable expressions which she uses to me, she often recurs to the
story of Amy Robsart. I think that Amy is the slave in the chariot, who
is placed there by my evil fortune to dash and to confound my triumph,
even when at the highest. Show me thy device, Varney, for solving the
inextricable difficulty. I have thrown every such impediment in the
way of these accursed revels as I could propound even with a shade of
decency, but to-day's interview has put all to a hazard. She said to
me kindly, but peremptorily, 'We will give you no further time for
preparations, my lord, lest you should altogether ruin yourself. On
Saturday, the 9th of July, we will be with you at Kenilworth. We pray
you to forget none of our appointed guests and suitors, and in especial
this light-o'-love, Amy Robsart. We would wish to see the woman who
could postpone yonder poetical gentleman, Master Tressilian, to your
man, Richard Varney.'--Now, Varney, ply thine invention, whose forge
hath availed us so often for sure as my name is Dudl