Kenilworth - Page 220/408

Leicester seized on writing materials, and twice or thrice commenced

a letter to the Countess, which he afterwards tore into fragments. At

length he finished a few distracted lines, in which he conjured her, for

reasons nearly concerning his life and honour, to consent to bear the

name of Varney for a few days, during the revels at Kenilworth. He

added that Varney would communicate all the reasons which rendered this

deception indispensable; and having signed and sealed these credentials,

he flung them over the table to Varney with a motion that he should

depart, which his adviser was not slow to comprehend and to obey.

Leicester remained like one stupefied, till he heard the trampling of

the horses, as Varney, who took no time even to change his dress, threw

himself into the saddle, and, followed by a single servant, set off for

Berkshire. At the sound the Earl started from his seat, and ran to the

window, with the momentary purpose of recalling the unworthy commission

with which he had entrusted one of whom he used to say he knew no

virtuous property save affection to his patron. But Varney was already

beyond call; and the bright, starry firmament, which the age considered

as the Book of Fate, lying spread before Leicester when he opened the

casement, diverted him from his better and more manly purpose.

"There they roll, on their silent but potential course," said the Earl,

looking around him, "without a voice which speaks to our ear, but not

without influences which affect, at every change, the indwellers of this

vile, earthly planet. This, if astrologers fable not, is the very crisis

of my fate! The hour approaches of which I was taught to beware--the

hour, too, which I was encouraged to hope for. A King was the word--but

how?--the crown matrimonial. All hopes of that are gone--let them go.

The rich Netherlands have demanded me for their leader, and, would

Elizabeth consent, would yield to me THEIR crown. And have I not such

a claim even in this kingdom? That of York, descending from George of

Clarence to the House of Huntingdon, which, this lady failing, may have

a fair chance--Huntingdon is of my house.--But I will plunge no deeper

in these high mysteries. Let me hold my course in silence for a while,

and in obscurity, like a subterranean river; the time shall come that I

will burst forth in my strength, and bear all opposition before me."

While Leicester was thus stupefying the remonstrances of his own

conscience, by appealing to political necessity for his apology, or

losing himself amidst the wild dreams of ambition, his agent left

town and tower behind him on his hasty journey to Berkshire. HE also

nourished high hope. He had brought Lord Leicester to the point which

he had desired, of committing to him the most intimate recesses of

his breast, and of using him as the channel of his most confidential

intercourse with his lady. Henceforward it would, he foresaw, be

difficult for his patron either to dispense with his services, or refuse

his requests, however unreasonable. And if this disdainful dame, as

he termed the Countess, should comply with the request of her husband,

Varney, her pretended husband, must needs become so situated with

respect to her, that there was no knowing where his audacity might be

bounded perhaps not till circumstances enabled him to obtain a triumph,

which he thought of with a mixture of fiendish feelings, in which

revenge for her previous scorn was foremost and predominant. Again

he contemplated the possibility of her being totally intractable, and

refusing obstinately to play the part assigned to her in the drama at

Kenilworth.