"Nor shall any one know her for such," said Elizabeth. "Death of my
life! Countess of Leicester!--I say Dame Amy Dudley; and well if she
have not cause to write herself widow of the traitor Robert Dudley."
"Madam," said Leicester, "do with me what it may be your will to do, but
work no injury on this gentleman; he hath in no way deserved it."
"And will he be the better for thy intercession," said the Queen,
leaving Tressilian, who slowly arose, and rushing to Leicester, who
continued kneeling--"the better for thy intercession, thou doubly
false--thou doubly forsworn;--of thy intercession, whose villainy hath
made me ridiculous to my subjects and odious to myself? I could tear out
mine eyes for their blindness!"
Burleigh here ventured to interpose.
"Madam," he said, "remember that you are a Queen--Queen of
England--mother of your people. Give not way to this wild storm of
passion."
Elizabeth turned round to him, while a tear actually twinkled in her
proud and angry eye. "Burleigh," she said, "thou art a statesman--thou
dost not, thou canst not, comprehend half the scorn, half the misery,
that man has poured on me!"
With the utmost caution--with the deepest reverence--Burleigh took her
hand at the moment he saw her heart was at the fullest, and led her
aside to an oriel window, apart from the others.
"Madam," he said, "I am a statesman, but I am also a man--a man already
grown old in your councils--who have not and cannot have a wish on earth
but your glory and happiness; I pray you to be composed."
"Ah! Burleigh," said Elizabeth, "thou little knowest--" here her tears
fell over her cheeks in despite of her.
"I do--I do know, my honoured sovereign. Oh, beware that you lead not
others to guess that which they know not!"
"Ha!" said Elizabeth, pausing as if a new train of thought had
suddenly shot across her brain. "Burleigh, thou art right--thou
art right--anything but disgrace--anything but a confession of
weakness--anything rather than seem the cheated, slighted--'sdeath! to
think on it is distraction!"
"Be but yourself, my Queen," said Burleigh; "and soar far above a
weakness which no Englishman will ever believe his Elizabeth could have
entertained, unless the violence of her disappointment carries a sad
conviction to his bosom."
"What weakness, my lord?" said Elizabeth haughtily; "would you too
insinuate that the favour in which I held yonder proud traitor derived
its source from aught--" But here she could no longer sustain the proud
tone which she had assumed, and again softened as she said, "But why
should I strive to deceive even thee, my good and wise servant?"