as in which he has
spread so high and so venturous a sail. Do not suppose, therefore, I
meant hardly by you, when I spoke the truth in Tressilian's vindication.
I am as you well know, country-bred, and like plain rustic truth better
than courtly compliment; but I must change my fashions with my sphere, I
presume."

"True, madam," said Varney, smiling; "and though you speak now in
jest, it will not be amiss that in earnest your present speech had some
connection with your real purpose. A court-dame--take the most noble,
the most virtuous, the most unimpeachable that stands around our Queen's
throne--would, for example, have shunned to speak the truth, or what she
thought such, in praise of a discarded suitor, before the dependant and
confidant of her noble husband."

"And wherefore," said the Countess, colouring impatiently, "should I not
do justice to Tressilian's worth, before my husband's friend--before my
husband himself--before the whole world?"

"And with the same openness," said Varney, "your ladyship will this
night tell my noble lord your husband that Tressilian has discovered
your place of residence, so anxiously concealed from the world, and that
he has had an interview with you?"

"Unquestionably," said the Countess. "It will be the first thing I tell
him, together with every word that Tressilian said and that I answered.
I shall speak my own shame in this, for Tressilian's reproaches, less
just than he esteemed them, were not altogether unmerited. I will speak,
therefore, with pain, but I will speak, and speak all."

"Your ladyship will do your pleasure," answered Varney; "but methinks
it were as well, since nothing calls for so frank a disclosure, to
spare yourself this pain, and my noble lord the disquiet, and Master
Tressilian, since belike he must be thought of in the matter, the danger
which is like to ensue."

"I can see nought of all these terrible consequences," said the lady
composedly, "unless by imputing to my noble lord unworthy thoughts,
which I am sure never harboured in his generous heart."

"Far be it from me to do so," said Varney. And then, after a moment's
silence, he added, with a real or affected plainness of manner, very
different from his usual smooth courtesy, "Come, madam, I will show you
that a courtier dare speak truth as well as another, when it concerns
the weal of those whom he honours and regards, ay, and although it may
infer his own danger." He waited as if to receive