"What may this mean?" she said. "Stand up, damsel, what wouldst thou have with us?"
"Your protection, madam," faltered the unfortunate countess. "I request--I implore--your gracious protection--against--against one Varney!"
"What, Varney--Sir Richard Varney--the servant of Lord Leicester? What are you to him, or he to you?"
"I was his prisoner, and I broke forth to--to--"
Amy hastily endeavoured to recall what were best to say which might save her from Varney without endangering her husband.
"To throw thyself on my protection, doubtless," said Elizabeth. "Thou art Amy, daughter of Sir Hugh Robsart. I must wring the story from thee by inches. Thou didst leave thine old and honoured father, cheat Master Tressilian of thy love, and marry this same Varney."
Amy sprung on her feet, and interrupted the queen eagerly with: "No, madam, no! As there is a God above us, I am not the wife of that contemptible slave--of that most deliberate villain! I am not the wife of Varney! I would rather be the bride of Destruction!"
The queen, startled by Amy's vehemence, replied: "Why, God, ha' mercy, woman! Tell me, for I will know, whose wife, or whose paramour, art thou? Speak out, and be speedy. Thou wert better dally with a lioness than with Elizabeth!"
Urged to this extremity, Amy at length uttered in despair: "The Earl of Leicester knows it all!"
"The Earl of Leicester!" said Elizabeth, in astonishment. "The Earl of Leicester! Come with me instantly!"