 feint of Lord Leicester's, to unfold his sentiments to me in safety, I hastened into it, and was conveyed to the fatal saloon on the banks of the Thames, once consecrated to love and pleasure only. I found Lord Leicester alone with his niece, measuring the apartment with unequal steps and a distracted air; he took my hand, and softening with pity for my situation, led me to a seat, and threw himself by me. His tears bedewed the hand he kissed. —"Support yourself still, my soul, said he, the crisis is come unawares; and fate is beforehand with our intentions. Elizabeth indeed has surprized me, but as her passion, however weak and absurd, is generous, it now stabs me to the heart. — To suffer her to publish it to the world, to stamp with ridicule my Sovereign, my benefactress, would no doubt awaken her

most mortal hatred, and rob me of my own esteem. —Matilda, my love, can you support the truth, and all the truth? —Did I not tell you that, one day or another, your anxious wish of seeing your mother free might interfere with your own happiness? It has indeed; for even at the moment the Queen in tender confidence imparted to me a plot to release Mary, she meant to obviate by her own marriage, my secret soul upbraided me as an abettor, if not a principal in that plot. —Happy in the idea of surprising you with its event, and far from expecting so extraordinary a one on the part of the Queen, I find by papers Lord Burleigh gave me ere I entered her apartment, that the enthusiastic assistants of Mary premeditated the martyrdom of Elizabeth, and have reason to imagine, she by this time knows the man whom she was willing to level with herself, has been capable of so infamous a concealment. Nay, how do I know how far I may be included in the barbarity? She may be led to believe, the hand to which she gave her own an hour ago,

was armed with a dagger, and ready every moment to use it. —My life is at stake, and oh! what is infinitely dearer, every virtue which once I hoped would long survive me, cancelled by ingratitude." — The agitations of his mind almost deprived him of his senses. —I threw myself at his feet. —"Oh! if ever the unfortunate Matilda was dear to you, cried I, now shew it—now struggle to endure for her—has she ever feared to do so for you? It is in vain to
