- bowing to the altar as was her use. And she crossed her arms over her bofom, faying, "Thy will be done, O Lord!" Then she wended homeward by a folitary path; a little fcattered light directing her. The shade of the scared rook winged past all else had funk to rest. And now, as she : nears the house, flitteth dismally through the turrets a large night-owl. Once or twice he fhrieked wildly: then with a long-drawn whoop fled over the roof. It was nigh fupper-time in Chenies Hall. The flags and banners were trembling mournfully in the cold draught: the armour on the wall and on the brackets looked dim and tarnished in the damp air, and the shields themselves feemed like funeral efcocheons, fo heavy was the grief that hung on Chenies. It was nigh fupper-time: yet all was silent there. VOL. III. Y CHAPTER XXIII. "Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand!" H, miferable woman! Oh, multiplied calamity! tefs of Effex rifen from the bed of a baulked mother's pain, than the issue of her husband's outbreak is disclosed. A fentence of attainder upon him! What a world of injury on their children! Bereaved, difgraced, defolated! Oh, the dear partner of her life! the friend of all fhe loved in thought or in affection; who had of late redeemed all earlier wrongs by his fweet tenderness and care! Oh, the joint parent of her fondled little ones, and of thofe innocent doves in Heaven! The father of-no! not Hereford now, but plain young Robert Devereux, and of the baby mistresses-alas, no ladies more! Oh, the noble Earl, the honoured man, the courageous foldier, the chivalrous gentleman, the friend, the patron, the obferved of all obfervers ! Is he condemned as Traytour to his Queen and Country, who hath loft father, brother, in their employ: who hath toiled and fuffered in peace and war now thirteen years of his short span of life in their behalf? Is he unfit to live her Grace's vaffal ftill? Is he but her Traytour? Is he, fo gentle, lovely-fo gracious, kind-fo free of heart-fo liberal of hand, the general favourite and minion-so dangerous to the Commonwealth as that he must die? Is he his Country's Traytour? The Countess of Leicefter had been nigh the presencechamber day after day. The Queen would not fee her; neither read her letters, nor touch her jewelled presents. My Lady had loft one hufband and one fon in the fervice of their country. She came to pray another husband and another fon might therefore be allowed to live. Her fecond Lord was most familiar with her Grace. Time was, 'twas faid, her Highness did affect him. Yet the Queen would not receive at Court the widow of the great Earl. They were but fecond coufins, and by the mother's fide, Elizabeth Tudor and Lettice Knollys: yet Queen Befs fuffered not her kinfwoman's visit! Hafte About ten o' th' clock at night cometh one to Essexhouse, bearing a letter to my Lady Countefs. poft hafte"-i' th' corner! The Lady was now a-bed. Prefently the gentlewoman rouseth her; who, cutting the thread in a trice, breaketh the feal, aftonished. 'Twas from the Lady Scrope, bidding my Lady roundly take cheer, but come quickly: for that the Court had difperfed, and her Majefty had retired. Means fhould be found for accefs. (6 Quick for the quick ;" and then an end! The Countefs of Effex ftrove to rife to call. Her limbs refused motion at her bidding: her voice uttered not according to her will. Anon, with a thought and a purpose, her heart beat against her ribs hard and flowly. She who had been weak and timid, gat ftrength and courage. She ftruck for help. Presently, with little care for apparel, she defcends, ordering out the barge. While they man it and bring down cushions, by the light of a pine torch she tottereth into her husband's clofet. All is confufion here! She searcheth for paper; knowing the Queen would hear no petition on the inftant. Much fcrutiny had already been made; fome burning too. There lay but that roll the Poetafter had left, and fome leaves had been torn even from that. The fair, pale hand-writing fhe noted not. The uncertain light-her own flickering eyelids-what wonder! With a rude pen, thickened ink, fhe affayed to fcratch on a leaf her poor petition; tearing that page out she put it in her bofom. Of her writing one might make out these words: "Pity him, whom if you loved not, loved you. Pity me, whofe heart pined in fecret, for that wife's affection was openly given to you. Pity our little ones, whose estate hath been ruined in your service! What else was writ was mere wildness, baldly fet down. She is carried to the boat. The night is cold and starlight -and the breeze coming with the tide refreshes the delicate woman. But how tedious is the way-how flow the rowers! She could fee the lights of the Palace-count to her Grace's closet-there, that is it! But how far off still! She is landed at Whitehall, borne in their arms up into the prefence chamber. The room is lonely, forfaken now: the fire fmouldering in ashes. |