"Peace, this is no time for jesting," answered Tressilian sternly.

"I wot that but too well," said the artist, "for I have felt these three

days as if I had a halter round my neck. This lady knows not her own

mind--she will have none of your aid--commands you not to be named to

her--and is about to put herself into the hands of my Lord Leicester.

I had never got her safe into your chamber, had she known the owner of

it."

"Is it possible," said Tressilian. "But she may have hopes the Earl will

exert his influence in her favour over his villainous dependant."

"I know nothing of that," said Wayland; "but I believe, if she is to

reconcile herself with either Leicester or Varney, the side of the

Castle of Kenilworth which will be safest for us will be the outside,

from which we can fastest fly away. It is not my purpose to abide an

instant after delivery of the letter to Leicester, which waits but your

commands to find its way to him. See, here it is--but no--a plague on

it--I must have left it in my dog-hole, in the hay-loft yonder, where I

am to sleep."

"Death and fury!" said Tressilian, transported beyond his usual

patience; "thou hast not lost that on which may depend a stake more

important than a thousand such lives as thine?"

"Lost it!" answered Wayland readily; "that were a jest indeed! No, sir,

I have it carefully put up with my night-sack, and some matters I have

occasion to use; I will fetch it in an instant."

"Do so," said Tressilian; "be faithful, and thou shalt be well rewarded.

But if I have reason to suspect thee, a dead dog were in better case

than thou!"

Wayland bowed, and took his leave with seeming confidence and alacrity,

but, in fact, filled with the utmost dread and confusion. The letter was

lost, that was certain, notwithstanding the apology which he had made to

appease the impatient displeasure of Tressilian. It was lost--it might

fall into wrong hands--it would then certainly occasion a discovery

of the whole intrigue in which he had been engaged; nor, indeed, did

Wayland see much prospect of its remaining concealed, in any event. He

felt much hurt, besides, at Tressilian's burst of impatience.

"Nay, if I am to be paid in this coin for services where my neck is

concerned, it is time I should look to myself. Here have I offended, for

aught I know, to the death, the lord of this stately castle, whose word

were as powerful to take away my life as the breath which speaks it

to blow out a farthing candle. And all this for a mad lady, and a

melancholy gallant, who, on the loss of a four-nooked bit of paper, has

his hand on his poignado, and swears death and fury!--Then there is the

Doctor and Varney.--I will save myself from the whole mess of them. Life

is dearer than gold. I will fly this instant, though I leave my reward

behind me."




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