Elizabeth added, "it is of the matter of Varney and Tressilian we speak--is the lady here, my lord?" his answer was ready--"Gracious madam, she is not."
Elizabeth bent her brews and compressed her lips. "Our orders were strict and positive, my lord," was her answer--
"And should have been obeyed, good my liege," replied Leicester, "had they been expressed in the form of the lightest wish. But--Varney, step forward--this gentleman will inform your Grace of the cause why the lady" (he could not force his rebellious tongue to utter the words--HIS WIFE) "cannot attend on your royal presence."
Varney advanced, and pleaded with readiness, what indeed he firmly believed, the absolute incapacity of the party (for neither did he dare, in Leicester's presence, term her his wife) to wait on her Grace.
"Here," said he, "are attestations from a most learned physician, whose skill and honour are well known to my good Lord of Leicester, and from an honest and devout Protestant, a man of credit and substance, one Anthony Foster, the gentleman in whose house she is at present bestowed, that she now labours under an illness which altogether unfits her for such a journey as betwixt this Castle and the neighbourhood of Oxford."
"This alters the matter," said the Queen, taking the certificates in her hand, and glancing at their contents.--"Let Tressilian come forward.--Master Tressilian, we have much sympathy for your situation,
