ed up in the queen's face with such a mixed agony of fear and
supplication, that Elizabeth was considerably affected.

"What may this mean?" she said. "Stand up, damsel, what wouldst thou
have with us?"

"Your protection, madam," faltered the unfortunate countess. "I
request--I implore--your gracious protection--against--against one
Varney!"

"What, Varney--Sir Richard Varney--the servant of Lord Leicester? What
are you to him, or he to you?"

"I was his prisoner, and I broke forth to--to--"

Amy hastily endeavoured to recall what were best to say which might save
her from Varney without endangering her husband.

"To throw thyself on my protection, doubtless," said Elizabeth. "Thou
art Amy, daughter of Sir Hugh Robsart. I must wring the story from thee
by inches. Thou didst leave thine old and honoured father, cheat Master
Tressilian of thy love, and marry this same Varney."

Amy sprung on her feet, and interrupted the queen eagerly with: "No,
madam, no! As there is a God above us, I am not the wife of that
contemptible slave--of that most deliberate villain! I am not the wife
of Varney! I would rather be the bride of Destruction!"

The queen, startled by Amy's vehemence, replied: "Why, God, ha' mercy,
woman! Tell me, for I _will_ know, whose wife, or whose paramour, art
thou? Speak out, and be speedy. Thou wert better dally with a lioness
than with Elizabeth!"

Urged to this extremity, Amy at length uttered in despair: "The Earl of
Leicester knows it all!"

"The Earl of Leicester!" said Elizabeth, in astonishment. "The Earl of
Leicester! Come with me instantly!"

As Amy shrunk back with terror, Elizabeth seized on her arm, and dragged
the terrified countess to where Leicester stood--the centre of a
splendid group of lords and ladies.

"Stand forth, my Lord of Leicester!" cried the queen.

Amy, thinking her husband in danger from the rage of an offended
Sovereign, instantly forgot her own wrongs, and throwing herself before
the queen, exclaimed, "He is guiltless, madam--he is guiltless; no one
can lay aught to the charge of noble Leicester!"

"Why, minion," answered the queen, "didst not thou thyself say that the
Earl of Leicester was privy to thy whole history?"

At that moment Varney rushed into the presence, with every mark of
disorder.

"What means this saucy intrusion?" said Elizabeth.

Varney could only prostrate himself before her feet, exclaiming:
"Pardon, my Liege, pardon! Or let your just