ments, and the obvious incapacity of thinking and
acting for herself under which she seemed to labour--Wayland had formed
the not improbable opinion that the difficulties of her situation had in
some degree affected her understanding.

When she had escaped from the seclusion of Cumnor Place, and the dangers
to which she was there exposed, it would have seemed her most rational
course to retire to her father's, or elsewhere at a distance from the
power of those by whom these dangers had been created. When, instead of
doing so, she demanded to be conveyed to Kenilworth, Wayland had been
only able to account for her conduct by supposing that she meant to
put herself under the tutelage of Tressilian, and to appeal to the
protection of the Queen. But now, instead of following this natural
course, she entrusted him with a letter to Leicester, the patron of
Varney, and within whose jurisdiction at least, if not under his express
authority, all the evils she had already suffered were inflicted upon
her. This seemed an unsafe and even a desperate measure, and Wayland
felt anxiety for his own safety, as well as that of the lady, should he
execute her commission before he had secured the advice and countenance
of a protector.

He therefore resolved, before delivering the letter to Leicester, that
he would seek out Tressilian, and communicate to him the arrival of
the lady at Kenilworth, and thus at once rid himself of all further
responsibility, and devolve the task of guiding and protecting this
unfortunate lady upon the patron who had at first employed him in her
service.

"He will be a better judge than I am," said Wayland, "whether she is
to be gratified in this humour of appeal to my Lord of Leicester, which
seems like an act of insanity; and, therefore, I will turn the matter
over on his hands, deliver him the letter, receive what they list to
give me by way of guerdon, and then show the Castle of Kenilworth a pair
of light heels; for, after the work I have been engaged in, it will be,
I fear, neither a safe nor wholesome place of residence, and I would
rather shoe colts an the coldest common in England than share in their
gayest revels."

CHAPTER XXVII.

In my time I have seen a boy do wonders.
Robin, the red tinker, had a boy
Would ha run through a cat-hole. --THE COXCOMB.

Amid the universal bustle which filled the Castle and its environs, it
was no easy matter to find out any individual;