No,my lord.You may remember,answered Varney,that he was that night placed with Sir Nicholas Blount,under a species of arrest.Did Carrol,or the other fellows,know who she was?demanded Leicester.
No,my lord,replied Varney;Carrol and the Warder had never seen the Countess,and Lambourne knew her not in her disguise.
But in seeking to prevent her leaving the cell,he obtained possession of one of her gloves,which,I think,your lordship may know.He gave the glove,which had the Bear and Ragged Staff,the Earl's impress,embroidered upon it in seed-pearls.
I do--I do recognize it,said Leicester.They were my own gift.The fellow of it was on the arm which she threw this very day around my neck!He spoke this with violent agitation.
Your lordship,said Varney,might yet further inquire of the lady herself respecting the truth of these passages.It needs not--it needs not,said the tortured Earl;it is written in characters of burning light,as if they were branded on my very eyeballs!I see her infamy-I can see nought else;and--gracious Heaven!--for this vile woman was I about to commit to danger the lives of so many noble friends,shake the foundation of a lawful throne,carry the sword and torch through the bosom of a peaceful land,wrong the kind mistress who made me what I am,and would,but for that hell-framed marriage,have made me all that man can be!All this I was ready to do for a woman who trinkets and traffics with my worst foes!--And thou,villain,why didst thou not speak sooner?My lord,said Varney,a tear from my lady would have blotted out all I could have said.Besides,I had not these proofs until this very morning,when Anthony Foster's sudden arrival with the examinations and declarations,which he had extorted from the innkeeper Gosling and others,explained the manner of her flight from Cumnor Place,and my own researches discovered the steps which she had taken here.Now,may God be praised for the light He has given!so full,so satisfactory,that there breathes not a man in England who shall call my proceeding rash,or my revenge unjust.--And yet,Varney,so young,so fair,so fawning,and so false!Hence,then,her hatred to thee,my trusty,my well-beloved servant,because you withstood her plots,and endangered her paramour's life!I never gave her any other cause of dislike,my lord,replied Varney.But she knew that my counsels went directly to diminish her influence with your lordship;and that I was,and have been,ever ready to peril my life against your enemies.It is too,too apparent,replied Leicester yet with what an air of magnanimity she exhorted me to commit my head to the Queen's mercy,rather than wear the veil of falsehood a moment longer!Methinks the angel of truth himself can have no such tones of high-souled impulse.Can it be so,Varney?--can falsehood use thus boldly the language of truth?--can infamy thus assume the guise of purity?Varney,thou hast been my servant from a child.I have raised thee high--can raise thee higher.
