"You hear her, Foster, and you, young maiden, hear this lady," answered
Varney, taking advantage of the pause which the Countess had made in her
charge, more for lack of breath than for lack of matter--"you hear that
her heat only objects to me the course which our good lord, for the
purpose to keep certain matters secret, suggests in the very letter
which she holds in her hands."
Foster here attempted to interfere with a face of authority, which he
thought became the charge entrusted to him, "Nay, lady, I must needs say
you are over-hasty in this. Such deceit is not utterly to be condemned
when practised for a righteous end I and thus even the patriarch Abraham
feigned Sarah to be his sister when they went down to Egypt."
"Ay, sir," answered the Countess; "but God rebuked that deceit even in
the father of His chosen people, by the mouth of the heathen Pharaoh.
Out upon you, that will read Scripture only to copy those things which
are held out to us as warnings, not as examples!"
"But Sarah disputed not the will of her husband, an it be your
pleasure," said Foster, in reply, "but did as Abraham commanded, calling
herself his sister, that it might be well with her husband for her sake,
and that his soul might live because of her beauty."
"Now, so Heaven pardon me my useless anger," answered the Countess,
"thou art as daring a hypocrite as yonder fellow is an impudent
deceiver! Never will I believe that the noble Dudley gave countenance
to so dastardly, so dishonourable a plan. Thus I tread on his infamy, if
indeed it be, and thus destroy its remembrance for ever!"
So saying, she tore in pieces Leicester's letter, and stamped, in the
extremity of impatience, as if she would have annihilated the minute
fragments into which she had rent it.
"Bear witness," said Varney, collecting himself, "she hath torn my
lord's letter, in order to burden me with the scheme of his devising;
and although it promises nought but danger and trouble to me, she would
lay it to my charge, as if I had any purpose of mine own in it."
"Thou liest, thou treacherous slave!" said the Countess in spite of
Janet's attempts to keep her silent, in the sad foresight that her
vehemence might only furnish arms against herself--"thou liest," she
continued.--"Let me go, Janet--were it the last word I have to speak,
he lies. He had his own foul ends to seek; and broader he would have
displayed them had my passion permitted me to preserve the silence which
at first encouraged him to unfold his vile projects."