"My lord," answered the Countess, "I do not think it so. My father has
been long noted a worthy and honourable man; and for Tressilian, if
we can pardon ourselves the ill we have wrought him, I will wager the
coronet I am to share with you one day that he is incapable of returning
injury for injury."
"I will not trust him, however, Amy," said her husband--"by my honour,
I will not trust him, I would rather the foul fiend intermingle in our
secret than this Tressilian!"
"And why, my lord?" said the Countess, though she shuddered slightly at
the tone of determination in which he spoke; "let me but know why you
think thus hardly of Tressilian?"
"Madam," replied the Earl, "my will ought to be a sufficient reason. If
you desire more, consider how this Tressilian is leagued, and with whom.
He stands high in the opinion of this Radcliffe, this Sussex, against
whom I am barely able to maintain my ground in the opinion of our
suspicious mistress; and if he had me at such advantage, Amy, as to
become acquainted with the tale of our marriage, before Elizabeth were
fitly prepared, I were an outcast from her grace for ever--a bankrupt at
once in favour and in fortune, perhaps, for she hath in her a touch of
her father Henry--a victim, and it may be a bloody one, to her offended
and jealous resentment."
"But why, my lord," again urged his lady, "should you deem thus
injuriously of a man of whom you know so little? What you do know
of Tressilian is through me, and it is I who assure you that in no
circumstances will be betray your secret. If I did him wrong in your
behalf, my lord, I am now the more concerned you should do him justice.
You are offended at my speaking of him, what would you say had I
actually myself seen him?"
"If you had," replied the Earl, "you would do well to keep that
interview as secret as that which is spoken in a confessional. I seek no
one's ruin; but he who thrusts himself on my secret privacy were better
look well to his future walk. The bear [The Leicester cognizance was the
ancient device adopted by his father, when Earl of Warwick, the bear and
ragged staff.] brooks no one to cross his awful path."
"Awful, indeed!" said the Countess, turning very pale.
"You are ill, my love," said the Earl, supporting her in his arms.
"Stretch yourself on your couch again; it is but an early day for you to
leave it. Have you aught else, involving less than my fame, my fortune,
and my life, to ask of me?"