"And wherefore was I not told of all this?" said Leicester sternly. "Why
did all of ye--and in particular thou, Varney--keep back from me such
material information?"
"Because, my lord," replied Varney, "the Countess pretended to Foster
and to me that Tressilian had intruded himself upon her; and I concluded
their interview had been in all honour, and that she would at her own
time tell it to your lordship. Your lordship knows with what unwilling
ears we listen to evil surmises against those whom we love; and I thank
Heaven I am no makebate or informer, to be the first to sow them."
"You are but too ready to receive them, however, Sir Richard," replied
his patron. "How knowest thou that this interview was not in all honour,
as thou hast said? Methinks the wife of the Earl of Leicester might
speak for a short time with such a person as Tressilian without injury
to me or suspicion to herself."
"Questionless, my lord," answered Varney, "Had I thought otherwise,
I had been no keeper of the secret. But here lies the rub--Tressilian
leaves not the place without establishing a correspondence with a poor
man, the landlord of an inn in Cumnor, for the purpose of carrying off
the lady. He sent down an emissary of his, whom I trust soon to have
in right sure keeping under Mervyn's Tower--Killigrew and Lambsbey are
scouring the country in quest of him. The host is rewarded with a ring
for keeping counsel--your lordship may have noted it on Tressilian's
hand--here it is. This fellow, this agent, makes his way to the place
as a pedlar; holds conferences with the lady, and they make their escape
together by night; rob a poor fellow of a horse by the way, such was
their guilty haste, and at length reach this Castle, where the Countess
of Leicester finds refuge--I dare not say in what place."
"Speak, I command thee," said Leicester--"speak, while I retain sense
enough to hear thee."
"Since it must be so," answered Varney, "the lady resorted immediately
to the apartment of Tressilian, where she remained many hours, partly in
company with him, and partly alone. I told you Tressilian had a paramour
in his chamber; I little dreamed that paramour was--"
"Amy, thou wouldst say," answered Leicester; "but it is false, false as
the smoke of hell! Ambitious she may be--fickle and impatient--'tis a
woman's fault; but false to me!--never, never. The proof--the proof of
this!" he exclaimed hastily.