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of the times had done little or nothing for a mind naturally gay and averse to study. If she had not loved to collect finery and to wear it, she might have woven tapestry or sewed embroidery, till her labours spread in gay profusion all over the walls and seats at Lidcote Hall; or she might have varied Minerva's labours with the task of preparing a mighty pudding against the time that Sir Hugh Robsart returned from the greenwood. But Amy had no natural genius either for the loom, the needle, or the receipt-book. Her mother had died in infancy; her father contradicted her in nothing; and Tressilian, the only one who approached her, that was able or desirous to attend to the cultivation of her mind, had much hurt his interest with her, by assuming too eagerly the task of a preceptor; so that he was regarded by the lively, indulged, and idle girl, with some fear and much respect; but with little or nothing of that softer emotion which it had been his hope and his ambition to inspire. And thus her heart lay readily open, and her fancy became easily captivated by the noble exterior and graceful deportment, and complacent flattery of Leicester, even before he was known to her as the dazzling minion of wealth and power.

The frequent visits of Leicester at Cumnor, during the earlier part of their union, had reconciled the countess to the solitude and privacy to which she was condemned; but when these visits became rarer and more rare, and when the void was filled up with letters of excuse, not always very warmly expressed, and generally extremely brief, discontent and suspicion began to haunt those splendid apartments which love had fitted up for beauty. Her answers to Leicester conveyed these feelings too bluntly, and pressed, more naturally than prudently, that she might be relieved

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from this obscure and secluded residence, by the earl's acknowledgment of their marriage; and in arranging her arguments with all the skill she was mistress of, she trusted chiefly to the warmth of the entreaties Sometimes she even with which she urged them. ventured to mingle reproaches, of which Leicester conceived he had good reason to complain.

"I have made her countess," he said to Varney; "surely she might wait till it consisted with my pleasure that she should put on a coronet.”

The Countess Amy viewed the subject in directly an opposite light.

"What signifies," she said, " that I have rank and honour in reality, if I am to live an obscure prisoner, without either society or observance, and suffering in my character, as one of dubious or disgraced reputation? I care not for all those strings of pearl, which you fret me by warping into my tresses, Janet. I tell you, that at Lidcote Hall, if I put but a fresh rose-bud among my hair, my good father would call me to him, that he might see it more closely; and the kind old curate would smile, and Master Mumblazen would say something about roses gules; and now I sit here, decked out like an image with gold and gems, and no one to see my finery but you, Janet. There was the poor Tressilian too but it avails not speaking of

him."

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"It doth not, indeed, madam," said her prudent attendant; and verily you make me sometimes wish you would not speak of him so often, or so rashly."

"It signifies nothing to warn me, Janet-I was born free, though I am now mewed up like some fine foreign slave, rather than the wife of an English noble. I bore it all with pleasure while I was sure he loved me; but now, my tongue and heart shall be free, let them

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fetter my limbs as they will. I tell thee, Janet, I love my husband-I will love him till my latest breath -I cannot cease to love him, even if I would, or if he-which, God knows, may chance-should cease to love me. But I will say, and loudly, I would have have been happier than I now am, to have remained in Lidcote Hall; even although I must have married poor Tressilian, with his melancholy look, and his head full of learning, which I cared not for. He said if I would read his favourite volumes, there would come a time that I should be glad of it—I think it is come now."

"I bought you some books, madam," said Janet, "from a lame fellow who sold them in the Marketplace and who stared something boldly at me, I promise you."

"Let me see them, Janet," said the countess; "but let them not be of your own precise cast.-How is this, most righteous damsel ? -A Pair of Snuffers for the Golden Candlestick'. A Handful of Myrrh and Hissop to put a Sick Soul to Purgation '— ' A Draught of Water from the Valley of Baca''Foxes and Firebrands'—What gear call you this, maiden ?” Nay, madam," said Janet, "it was but fitting and seemly to put grace in your ladyship's way; but an you will none of it, there are play-books, and poetbooks, I trow."

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The countess proceeded carelessly in her examination, turning over such rare volumes as would now make the fortune of twenty retail booksellers. Here was a "Boke of Cookery, imprinted by Richard Lant," and "Skelton's Books"—"The Passtime of the People" "The Castle of Knowledge," &c. But neither to this lore did the countess's heart incline, and joyfully did she start up from the listless task of turning over

the leaves of the pamphlets, and hastily did she scatter them through the floor, when the hasty clatter of horses' feet, heard in the court-yard, called her to the window, exclaiming, "It is Leicester! it is my noble earl!—it is my Dudley! Every stroke of his

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horse's hoof sounds like a note of lordly music!"

There was a brief bustle in the mansion, and Foster, with his downward look and sullen manner, entered the apartment to say, "That Master Richard Varney was arrived from my lord, having ridden all night, and craved to speak with her ladyship instantly."

66 Varney? and to speak with me?—pshaw ! But he comes with news from Leicester-so admit him instantly."

Varney entered her dressing apartment, where she sat arrayed in her native loveliness, adorned with all that Janet's art, and a rich and tasteful undress, could bestow. But the most beautiful part of her attire was her beautiful and luxuriant light-brown locks, which floated in such rich abundance around a neck that resembled a swan's, and over a bosom heaving with anxious expectation, which communicated a hurried tinge of red to her whole countenance.

Varney entered the room in the dress in which he had waited on his master that morning to court, the splendour of which made a strange contrast with the disorder arising from hasty riding, during a dark night and foul ways. His brow bore an anxious and hurried expression, as one who has that to say of which he doubts the reception, and who hath yet posted on from the necessity of communicating his tidings. The countess's anxious eye at once caught the alarm, as she exclaimed, “ You bring news from my lord, Master Varney-Gracious Heaven, is he ill ?"

"No, madam, thank Heaven!" said Varney. "Com

pose yourself, and permit me to take breath ere I commuicate my tidings."

"No breath, sir,” replied the lady impatiently; “I know your theatrical arts. Since your breath hath sufficed to bring you hither, it may suffice to tell your tale, at least briefly, and in the gross."

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"Madam," answered Varney, we are not alone, and my lord's message was for your ear only."

"Leave us, Janet, and Master Foster," said the lady; "but remain in the next apartment, and within call."

Foster and his daughter retired, agreeably to the Lady Leicester's commands, into the next apartment, which was the withdrawing-room. The door which led from the sleeping-chamber was then carefully shut and bolted, and the father and daughter remained both in a posture of anxious attention, the first with a stern, suspicious, anxious cast of countenance, and Janet with folded hands, and looks which seemed divided betwixt her desire to know the fortunes of her mistress, and her prayers to Heaven for her safety. Anthony Foster seemed himself to have some idea of what was passing through his daughter's mind, for he crossed the apartment, and took her anxiously by the hand, saying, "That is right pray, Janet, pray we have all need of prayers, and some of us more than others. Pray, Janet. I would pray myself, but I must listen to what goes on within. evil has been brewing, love evil has been brewing. God forgive our sins; but Varney's sudden and strange arrival bodes us no good."

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Janet had never before heard her father excite or even permit her attention to any thing which passed in their mysterious family, and now that he did so, his voice sounded in her ear - she knew not why

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