Now fare thee well,my master--if true service Be guerdon'd with hard looks,e'en cut the tow-line,And let our barks across the pathless flood Hold different courses--THE SHIPWRECK.
Tressilian walked into the outer yard of the Castle scarce knowing what to think of his late strange and most unexpected interview with Amy Robsart,and dubious if he had done well,being entrusted with the delegated authority of her father,to pass his word so solemnly to leave her to her own guidance for so many hours.Yet how could he have denied her request--dependent as she had too probably rendered herself upon Varney?Such was his natural reasoning.The happiness of her future life might depend upon his not driving her to extremities;and since no authority of Tressilian's could extricate her from the power of Varney,supposing he was to acknowledge Amy to be his wife,what title had he to destroy the hope of domestic peace,which might yet remain to her,by setting enmity betwixt them?Tressilian resolved,therefore,scrupulously to observe his word pledged to Amy,both because it had been given,and because,as he still thought,while he considered and reconsidered that extraordinary interview,it could not with justice or propriety have been refused.
In one respect,he had gained much towards securing effectual protection for this unhappy and still beloved object of his early affection.Amy was no longer mewed up in a distant and solitary retreat under the charge of persons of doubtful reputation.She was in the Castle of Kenilworth,within the verge of the Royal Court for the time,free from all risk of violence,and liable to be produced before Elizabeth on the first summons.These were circumstances which could not but assist greatly the efforts which he might have occasion to use in her behalf.
While he was thus balancing the advantages and perils which attended her unexpected presence in Kenilworth,Tressilian was hastily and anxiously accosted by Wayland,who,after ejaculating,Thank God,your worship is found at last!proceeded with breathless caution to pour into his ear the intelligence that the lady had escaped from Cumnor Place.
And is at present in this Castle,said Tressilian.I know it,and I have seen her.Was it by her own choice she found refuge in my apartment?No,answered Wayland;but I could think of no other way of safely bestowing her,and was but too happy to find a deputy-usher who knew where you were quartered--in jolly society truly,the hall on the one hand,and the kitchen on the other!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 possiblesaid 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 Ioffended,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.These reflections naturally enough occurred to a mind like Wayland's,who found himself engaged far deeper than he had expected in a train of mysterious and unintelligible intrigues,in which the actors seemed hardly to know their own course.And yet,to do him justice,his personal fears were,in some degree,counterbalanced by his compassion for the deserted state of the lady.
