From her dress, and the casket which she instinctively held in her hand, Elizabeth naturally conjectured that the beautiful, but mute figure which she beheld was a performer in one of the various theatrical pageants which had been placed in different situations to surprize her with their homage; and that the poor player, overcome with awe at her presence, had either forgot the part assigned her, or lacked courage to go through it. It was natural and courteous to give her some encouragement; and Elizabeth accordingly said, in a tone of condescending kindness: "How now, fair nymph of this lovely grotto--art thou spellbound and struck with dumbness by the wicked enchanter whom men term Fear? We are his sworn enemy, maiden, and can reverse his charm. Speak, we command thee." Instead of answering her by speech, the unfortunate countess dropt on her knee before the Queen, let her casket fall from her hand, and clasping her palms together, looked up in the Queen's face with such a mixt agony of fear and supplication, that Elizabeth was considerably affected. "What may this mean?" she said: "this is a stronger passion than befits the occasion. Stand up, damsel: what wouldst thou have with us?" "Your protection, madam," faltered forth the unhappy petitioner. "Each daughter of England has it while she is worthy of it," replied the Queen; "but your distress seems to have a deeper root than a forgotten task. Why, and in what, do you crave our protection?" Amy hastily endeavored to recall what she were best to say, which might secure herself from the imminent dangers that surrounded her, without endangering her husband; and plunging from one thought to another, amidst the chaos which filled her mind, she could at length, in answer to the Queen's repeated inquiries in what she sought protection, only falter out, "Alas! I know not." "This is folly, maiden," said Elizabeth impatiently; for there was something in the extreme confusion of the suppliant which irritated her curiosity as well as interested her feelings. "The sick man must tell his malady to the physician; nor are WE accustomed to ask questions so oft, without receiving an answer." "I request--I implore--" stammered forth the unfortunate countess--"I beseech your gracious protection--against--against one Varney." She choked well-nigh as she uttered the fatal word, which was instantly caught up by the Queen. "What, Varney--Sir Richard Varney--the servant of Lord Leicester! What, damsel, are you to him, or he to you?" "I--I--was his prisoner--and he practised on my life--and I broke forth to--to--" "To throw thyself on my protection, doubtless," said Elizabeth. "Thou shalt have it--that is, if thou art worthy; for we will sift this matter to the uttermost.--Thou art," she said, bending on the countess an eye which seemed designed to pierce her very inmost soul,--"thou art Amy, daughter of Sir Hugh Robsart of Lidcote Hall?"