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"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."