"No, Varney," said Leicester; "I have thought upon what is to be done,
and I will myself speak with Amy."
It was now Varney's turn to feel upon his own account the terrors
which he affected to participate solely on account of his patron. "Your
lordship will not yourself speak with the lady?"
"It is my fixed purpose," said Leicester. "Fetch me one of the
livery-cloaks; I will pass the sentinel as thy servant. Thou art to have
free access to her."
"But, my lord--"
"I will have no BUTS," replied Leicester; "it shall be even thus, and
not otherwise. Hunsdon sleeps, I think, in Saintlowe's Tower. We can go
thither from these apartments by the private passage, without risk of
meeting any one. Or what if I do meet Hunsdon? he is more my friend than
enemy, and thick-witted enough to adopt any belief that is thrust on
him. Fetch me the cloak instantly."
Varney had no alternative save obedience. In a few minutes Leicester was
muffled in the mantle, pulled his bonnet over his brows, and followed
Varney along the secret passage of the Castle which communicated with
Hunsdon's apartments, in which there was scarce a chance of meeting
any inquisitive person, and hardly light enough for any such to have
satisfied their curiosity. They emerged at a door where Lord Hunsdon
had, with military precaution, placed a sentinel, one of his own
northern retainers as it fortuned, who readily admitted Sir Richard
Varney and his attendant, saying only, in his northern dialect, "I
would, man, thou couldst make the mad lady be still yonder; for her
moans do sae dirl through my head that I would rather keep watch on a
snowdrift, in the wastes of Catlowdie."
They hastily entered, and shut the door behind them.
"Now, good devil, if there be one," said Varney, within himself,
"for once help a votary at a dead pinch, for my boat is amongst the
breakers!"
The Countess Amy, with her hair and her garments dishevelled, was seated
upon a sort of couch, in an attitude of the deepest affliction, out of
which she was startled by the opening of the door. Size turned hastily
round, and fixing her eye on Varney, exclaimed, "Wretch! art thou come
to frame some new plan of villainy?"
Leicester cut short her reproaches by stepping forward and dropping his
cloak, while he said, in a voice rather of authority than of affection,
"It is with me, madam, you have to commune, not with Sir Richard
Varney."