"All as we could wish, all as we could wish!" cried Rochester, entering a room in Northampton House, in which the Countess of Essex sat with her mother, Lady Suffolk. "We have the great majority of the judges, delegates. In a few days the decree of nullity will be pronounced, and we need not care a pin for that rank puritan, Abbot, or the Bishop of London. They are the only two who hold out, for Ely and Coventry have yielded to the King's arguments." Lady Essex cast herself into his arms, with her face radiant with joy; and the shameless Countess of Suffolk rose and congratulated the lover of her criminal daughter, with as many expressions of satisfaction as if he were about to raise her to a station of honour and fame. "Get them to sign the decree quickly, Rochester," she said; "Abbott is a powerful man, and the see of Canterbury has no light authority. He may bring some of the rest over again; and it is as well to have as many on our side as possible." "There is no fear, there is no fear," replied Rochester. "They have pledged themselves to the King, and cannot go back. Nevertheless, be you assured, dear lady, I will lose no time. What I most fear is from that villain, Overbury. He has written me this day a most insolent and threatening letter; and he may make mischief." "I wonder," said Lady Suffolk, in a jesting tone, "if there be no butts of Malmsey now in that same Tower of London? But come, I will go and tell Northampton of your good news. He is as eager in the business as any of us." "Not as I am," answered Rochester, casting himself into a seat by the side of his paramour. "There I defy him." "But what says your dear good friend, Sir Thomas Overbury?" asked Lady Essex. "My mother is right, Rochester: we want Malmsey butt!" "It were not safe," answered her lover, looking down; "the man may drive me to punish him as he deserves; but how, is the question?" "Oh, by a thousand means," answered the Countess. "But what does he say, what does he say, Robert? let me see. Have you got the letter with you?" "Yes, here it is," answered Rochester; "a sweet composition, in truth, and one which shows that he and I are henceforth sworn enemies. One or the other must perish, that is clear." "Let it be him, sweet Rochester, let it be him," said the Countess, taking the letter, and running her eye over the contents. "What says the villain?" she exclaimed, at length, with her face burning as she read aloud some portions of Overbury's letter. "--'You and I will come to public trial before all the friends I have?--They shall know what words have passed betwixt us heretofore?--I have wrote the story betwixt you and me from the first hour to this day!'--Rochester, there is no time to be lost! He brings it on his own head.--Let him take the consequences." "But how? but how?" cried Rochester.