er pause; "but it is written, 'Put not thy trust in princes.'"

"A good sentence and a true," said Varney, "unless you can unite their
interest with yours so absolutely that they must needs sit on your wrist
like hooded hawks."

"I know what thou meanest," said Leicester impatiently, "though thou art
to-night so prudentially careful of what thou sayest to me. Thou wouldst
intimate I might marry the Queen if I would?"

"It is your speech, my lord, not mine," answered Varney; "but
whosesoever be the speech, it is the thought of ninety-nine out of an
hundred men throughout broad England."

"Ay, but," said Leicester, turning himself in his bed, "the hundredth
man knows better. Thou, for example, knowest the obstacle that cannot be
overleaped."

"It must, my lord, if the stars speak true," said Varney composedly.

"What, talkest thou of them," said Leicester, "that believest not in
them or in aught else?"

"You mistake, my lord, under your gracious pardon," said Varney; "I
believe in many things that predict the future. I believe, if showers
fall in April, that we shall have flowers in May; that if the sun
shines, grain will ripen; and I believe in much natural philosophy to
the same effect, which, if the stars swear to me, I will say the stars
speak the truth. And in like manner, I will not disbelieve that which
I see wished for and expected on earth, solely because the astrologers
have read it in the heavens."

"Thou art right," said Leicester, again tossing himself on his couch
"Earth does wish for it. I have had advices from the reformed churches
of Germany--from the Low Countries--from Switzerland--urging this as a
point on which Europe's safety depends. France will not oppose it. The
ruling party in Scotland look to it as their best security. Spain fears
it, but cannot prevent it. And yet thou knowest it is impossible."

"I know not that, my lord," said Varney; "the Countess is indisposed."

"Villain!" said Leicester, starting up on his couch, and seizing
the sword which lay on the table beside him, "go thy thoughts that
way?--thou wouldst not do murder?"

"For whom, or what, do you hold me, my lord?" said Varney, assuming the
superiority of an innocent man subjected to unjust suspicion. "I said
nothing to deserve such a horrid imputation as your violence infers. I
said but that the Countess was ill. And Countess though she be--lovely
and beloved as she is--surely your lordship must hold her to be mortal?