"My lord," replied Varney, "the wildness of your distress breaks forth

in the wildness of your language."

"I say, speak not for her!" replied Leicester; "she has dishonoured

me--she would have murdered me--all ties are burst between us. She shall

die the death of a traitress and adulteress, well merited both by the

laws of God and man! And--what is this casket," he said, "which was even

now thrust into my hand by a boy, with the desire I would convey it

to Tressilian, as he could not give it to the Countess? By Heaven! the

words surprised me as he spoke them, though other matters chased them

from my brain; but now they return with double force. It is her casket

of jewels!--Force it open, Varney--force the hinges open with thy

poniard!"

"She refused the aid of my dagger once," thought Varney, as he

unsheathed the weapon, "to cut the string which bound a letter, but now

it shall work a mightier ministry in her fortunes."

With this reflection, by using the three-cornered stiletto-blade as a

wedge, he forced open the slender silver hinges of the casket. The

Earl no sooner saw them give way than he snatched the casket from Sir

Richard's hand, wrenched off the cover, and tearing out the splendid

contents, flung them on the floor in a transport of rage, while he

eagerly searched for some letter or billet which should make the

fancied guilt of his innocent Countess yet more apparent. Then stamping

furiously on the gems, he exclaimed, "Thus I annihilate the miserable

toys for which thou hast sold thyself, body and soul--consigned thyself

to an early and timeless death, and me to misery and remorse for

ever!--Tell me not of forgiveness, Varney--she is doomed!"

So saying, he left the room, and rushed into an adjacent closet, the

door of which he locked and bolted.

Varney looked after him, while something of a more human feeling seemed

to contend with his habitual sneer. "I am sorry for his weakness," he

said, "but love has made him a child. He throws down and treads on

these costly toys-with the same vehemence would he dash to pieces this

frailest toy of all, of which he used to rave so fondly. But that taste

also will be forgotten when its object is no more. Well, he has no eye

to value things as they deserve, and that nature has given to Varney.

When Leicester shall be a sovereign, he will think as little of the

gales of passion through which he gained that royal port, as ever

did sailor in harbour of the perils of a voyage. But these tell-tale

articles must not remain here--they are rather too rich vails for the

drudges who dress the chamber."




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