 to see his destined revenge so
strangely frustrated, the Earl of Leicester could not resist this extraordinary
supplicant. He snatched the letter from his hand - changed colour as he looked
on the superscription - undid, with faltering hand, the knot which secured it -
glanced over the contents, and staggering back, would have fallen, had he not
rested against the trunk of a tree, where he stood for an instant, his eyes bent
on the letter, and his sword-point turned to the ground, without seeming to be
conscious of the presence of an antagonist, towards whom he had shown little
mercy, and who might in turn have taken him at advantage. But for such revenge
Tressilian was too noble-minded - he also stood still in surprise, waiting the
issue of this strange fit of passion, but holding his weapon ready to defend
himself in case of need, against some new and sudden attack on the part of
Leicester, whom he again suspected to be under the influence of actual frenzy.
The boy, indeed, he easily recognised as his old acquaintance Dickon, whose
face, once seen, was scarcely to be forgotten; but how he came hither at so
critical a moment, why his interference was so energetic, and above all, how it
came to produce so powerful an effect upon Leicester, were questions which he
could not solve.
    But the letter was of itself powerful enough to work effects yet more
wonderful. It was that which the unfortunate Amy had written to her husband, in
which she alleged the reasons and manner of her flight from Cumnor Place,
informed him of her having made her way to Kenilworth to enjoy his protection,
and mentioned the circumstances which had compelled her to take refuge in
Tressilian's apartment, earnestly requesting he would, without delay, assign her
a more suitable asylum. The letter concluded with the most earnest expressions
of devoted attachment, and submission to his will in all things, and
particularly respecting her situation and place of residence, conjuring him only
that she might not be placed under the guardianship or restraint of Varney.
    The letter dropped from Leicester's hand when he had perused it. »Take my
sword,« he said, »Tressilian, and pierce my heart, as I would but now have
pierced yours!«
    »My lord,« said Tressilian, »you have done me great wrong; but something
within my breast ever whispered that it was by egregious error.«
    »Error, indeed!« said Leicester, and handed him the letter; »I have been
made to believe a man of honour a villain
