From these words it was apprehended he had some design upon himself, and
he was carefully deprived of all means by which such could be carried
into execution. But like some of the heroes of antiquity, he carried
about his person a small quantity of strong poison, prepared probably
by the celebrated Demetrius Alasco. Having swallowed this potion
over-night, he was found next morning dead in his cell; nor did he
appear to have suffered much agony, his countenance presenting, even in
death, the habitual expression of sneering sarcasm which was predominant
while he lived. "The wicked man," saith Scripture, "hath no bands in his
death."
The fate of his colleague in wickedness was long unknown. Cumnor Place
was deserted immediately after the murder; for in the vicinity of what
was called the Lady Dudley's Chamber, the domestics pretended to hear
groans, and screams, and other supernatural noises. After a certain
length of time, Janet, hearing no tidings of her father, became the
uncontrolled mistress of his property, and conferred it with her hand
upon Wayland, now a man of settled character, and holding a place in
Elizabeth's household. But it was after they had been both dead for some
years that their eldest son and heir, in making some researches about
Cumnor Hall, discovered a secret passage, closed by an iron door, which,
opening from behind the bed in the Lady Dudley's Chamber, descended to a
sort of cell, in which they found an iron chest containing a quantity
of gold, and a human skeleton stretched above it. The fate of Anthony
Foster was now manifest. He had fled to this place of concealment,
forgetting the key of the spring-lock; and being barred from escape by
the means he had used for preservation of that gold, for which he had
sold his salvation, he had there perished miserably. Unquestionably the
groans and screams heard by the domestics were not entirely imaginary,
but were those of this wretch, who, in his agony, was crying for relief
and succour.
The news of the Countess's dreadful fate put a sudden period to the
pleasures of Kenilworth. Leicester retired from court, and for a
considerable time abandoned himself to his remorse. But as Varney in his
last declaration had been studious to spare the character of his patron,
the Earl was the object rather of compassion than resentment. The Queen
at length recalled him to court; he was once more distinguished as a
statesman and favourite; and the rest of his career is well known to
history. But there was something retributive in his death, if, according
to an account very generally received, it took place from his swallowing
a draught of poison which was designed by him for another person. [See
Note 9. Death of the Earl of Leicester.] Sir Hugh Robsart died very soon after his daughter, having settled his
estate on Tressilian. But neither the prospect of rural independence,
nor the promises of favour which Elizabeth held out to induce him to
follow the court, could remove his profound melancholy. Wherever he went
he seemed to see before him the disfigured corpse of the early and
only object of his affection. At length, having made provision for the
maintenance of the old friends and old servants who formed Sir Hugh's
family at Lidcote Hall, he himself embarked with his friend Raleigh
for the Virginia expedition, and, young in years but old in grief, died
before his day in that foreign land.