He paused, and seemed unwilling to complete the sentence.
"Of being myself what?" demanded Leicester; "speak out thy meaning,
Varney."
"Of being yourself a KING, my lord," replied Varney; "and King of
England to boot! It is no treason to our Queen to say so. It would have
chanced by her obtaining that which all true subjects wish her--a lusty,
noble, and gallant husband."
"Thou ravest, Varney," answered Leicester. "Besides, our times have
seen enough to make men loathe the Crown Matrimonial which men take from
their wives' lap. There was Darnley of Scotland."
"He!" said Varney; "a, gull, a fool, a thrice-sodden ass, who suffered
himself to be fired off into the air like a rocket on a rejoicing day.
Had Mary had the hap to have wedded the noble Earl ONCE destined to
share her throne, she had experienced a husband of different metal; and
her husband had found in her a wife as complying and loving as the mate
of the meanest squire who follows the hounds a-horseback, and holds her
husband's bridle as he mounts."
"It might have been as thou sayest, Varney," said Leicester, a brief
smile of self-satisfaction passing over his anxious countenance. "Henry
Darnley knew little of women--with Mary, a man who knew her sex might
have had some chance of holding his own. But not with Elizabeth, Varney
for I thank God, when he gave her the heart of a woman, gave her the
head of a man to control its follies. No, I know her. She will accept
love-tokens, ay, and requite them with the like--put sugared sonnets
in her bosom, ay, and answer them too--push gallantry to the very verge
where it becomes exchange of affection; but she writes NIL ULTRA to all
which is to follow, and would not barter one iota of her own supreme
power for all the alphabet of both Cupid and Hymen."
"The better for you, my lord," said Varney--"that is, in the case
supposed, if such be her disposition; since you think you cannot aspire
to become her husband. Her favourite you are, and may remain, if the
lady at Cumnor place continues in her present obscurity."
"Poor Amy!" said Leicester, with a deep sigh; "she desires so earnestly
to be acknowledged in presence of God and man!"
"Ay, but, my lord," said Varney, "is her desire reasonable? That is
the question. Her religious scruples are solved; she is an honoured and
beloved wife, enjoying the society of her husband at such times as his
weightier duties permit him to afford her his company. What would she
more? I am right sure that a lady so gentle and so loving would consent
to live her life through in a certain obscurity--which is, after all,
not dimmer than when she was at Lidcote Hall--rather than diminish the
least jot of her lord's honours and greatness by a premature attempt to
share them."