She may die, and your lordship's hand become once more your own."

"Away! away!" said Leicester; "let me have no more of this."

"Good night, my lord," said Varney, seeming to understand this as a
command to depart; but Leicester's voice interrupted his purpose.

"Thou 'scapest me not thus, Sir Fool," said he; "I think thy knighthood
has addled thy brains. Confess thou hast talked of impossibilities as of
things which may come to pass."

"My lord, long live your fair Countess," said Varney; "but neither your
love nor my good wishes can make her immortal. But God grant she live
long to be happy herself, and to render you so! I see not but you may be
King of England notwithstanding."

"Nay, now, Varney, thou art stark mad," said Leicester.

"I would I were myself within the same nearness to a good estate of
freehold," said Varney. "Have we not known in other countries how
a left-handed marriage might subsist betwixt persons of differing
degree?--ay, and be no hindrance to prevent the husband from conjoining
himself afterwards with a more suitable partner?"

"I have heard of such things in Germany," said Leicester.

"Ay, and the most learned doctors in foreign universities justify the
practice from the Old Testament," said Varney. "And after all, where is
the harm? The beautiful partner whom you have chosen for true love has
your secret hours of relaxation and affection. Her fame is safe her
conscience may slumber securely. You have wealth to provide royally for
your issue, should Heaven bless you with offspring. Meanwhile you may
give to Elizabeth ten times the leisure, and ten thousand times the
affection, that ever Don Philip of Spain spared to her sister Mary; yet
you know how she doted on him though so cold and neglectful. It requires
but a close mouth and an open brow, and you keep your Eleanor and your
fair Rosamond far enough separate. Leave me to build you a bower to
which no jealous Queen shall find a clew."

Leicester was silent for a moment, then sighed, and said, "It is
impossible. Good night, Sir Richard Varney--yet stay. Can you guess what
meant Tressilian by showing himself in such careless guise before the
Queen to-day?--to strike her tender heart, I should guess, with all
the sympathies due to a lover abandoned by his mistress and abandoning
himself."

Varney, smothering a sneering laugh, answered, "He believed Master
Tressilian had no such matter in his head."

"How!" said Leicester; "what me