"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."