to part in peace with all the world, even with those who have injured her. I will communicate your wishes to her, and it may be she will consent to see you."
"You shall have a reward well worthy of the service if you accomplish it," said the Countess. "Hasten to her with all speed, my Lord, and I will follow in my litter, ready to attend Sarah's summons."
"I like not the plan," rejoined Lord Roos. "You are wrong to go. Why need you see her?"
"Why?" she answered, regarding him fixedly. "Because it may be some little consolation to me afterwards."
"Then go alone," said Lord Roos savagely. "I will not accompany you."
"I do not ask you to accompany me, but to precede me," she replied.
"Now, mark me, my Lord," she added in a low, firm tone, "and be assured I do not advance more than I will perform. If you refuse your wife's dying request, I will go back with Sarah and confess all to her."
Lord Roos looked as if he could have annihilated her, and muttered a terrible imprecation on her head.
"Threaten me—ay, and execute your threats hereafter if you will," continued the Countess in the same low decided tone, "but go you shall now."
Her manner was so irresistible that Lord Roos was compelled to obey, and he quitted the room without a word more, followed by Diego and Sarah Swarton, the latter of whom signed to the Countess that she might depend upon the fulfilment of her wishes.
They had not been gone many minutes before Lady Exeter entered her litter, and wholly unattended by page or serving-man, except those in charge of the conveyance, caused herself to be conveyed to Sir Thomas Lake's lodgings in Whitehall.
CHAPTER IV
How the forged Confession was produced
Summoning up all his firmness for the interview with his lady, Lord Roos entered her chamber, attended by Sarah Swarton, and beheld her propped up by pillows, bearing evident marks in her countenance of the severe sufferings she had endured. She was emaciated in frame, and almost livid in complexion; hollow-cheeked and hollow-eyed; but still with a look of unaltered affection for him.
Having fulfilled her mission, Sarah left them alone together.
He took the thin fingers extended towards him, and pressed them to his lips, but scarcely dared to raise his eyes towards his wife, so much was he shocked by her appearance. It was with difficulty she gave utterance to the words she addressed to him.
"I thank you for coming to me, my Lord," she said; "but you will not regret your kindness. We are quite alone, are we not? My eyes are so dim that I cannot distinguish any object at the other end of the room—but I can see you plainly enough, my dear Lord."
"We are alone, Elizabeth," replied Lord Roos, in a voice of some emotion, after glancing around.
"Then I may speak freely," she continued. "What I predicted has occurred. You did not do well, my dear Lord, to take that phial from me and place it in other hands. Nay, start not! I know I am poisoned: I have known it from the first. But I have made no effort to save myself, for I was aware it was your will I should die."
"O, Elizabeth!" murmured her husband.
"I was aware of it," she repeated; "and as I have never voluntarily disobeyed you, I would not now thwart your purpose, even though I myself must be the sacrifice. It was to tell you this that I have sent for you. It was to forgive—to bless you."
And as she spoke she threw her arms round his neck, and he felt his cheek wet with her tears.
"This is more than I can bear," cried Lord Roos, in a voice suffocated by emotion. "I thought I had firmness for anything; but it deserts me entirely now. You are an angel of goodness, Elizabeth; as I am a demon of darkness. I do not deserve your forgiveness."
"You will deserve it, if you will comply with the request I am about to make to you," she rejoined, looking at him beseechingly.
"Whatever it be it shall be granted, if in my power," he rejoined earnestly. "I would redeem your life, if I could, at the price of my own. You have exorcised the evil spirit from me, Elizabeth."
"Then I shall die happy," she replied, with a smile of ineffable delight.
"But the request! What is it you would have me perform?" he asked.
"I would have you spare my mother," she replied. "I know she has been dealt with in the same way as myself; but I also know there is yet time to save her."
"It shall be done," said Lord Roos, emphatically. "Where is she?"
"In the adjoining chamber."
"Is Luke Hatton in attendance upon her?"
"In constant attendance," she rejoined. "That man has obeyed you well, my Lord. But take heed of him: he is a dangerous weapon, and may injure the hand that employs him. Strike gently upon that bell. He will attend the summons."
Lord Roos complied; when, to his astonishment and dismay, the curtains shrouding the entrance to the adjoining room were drawn aside, and Lady Lake stalked from behind them. Never before had she surveyed her son-in-law with such a glance of triumph as she threw upon him now.
"You were mistaken you see, Elizabeth," said Lord Roos to his lady.
"Your mother needs no aid. She is perfectly well."
"Ay, well enough to confound you and all your wicked purposes, my Lord," cried Lady Lake. "You have not accomplished my destruction, as you perceive; nor shall you accomplish your wife's destruction, though you have well-nigh succeeded. Let it chafe you to madness to learn that I possess an antidote, which I have myself approved, and which will kill the poison circling in her veins, and give her new life."
"An antidote!" exclaimed Lord Roos. "So far from galling me to madness, the intelligence fills me with delight beyond expression. Give it me, Madam, that I may administer it at once; and heaven grant its results may be such as you predict!"
"Administered by you, my Lord, it would be poison," said Lady Lake, bitterly. "But you may stand by and witness its beneficial effects. They will be instantaneous."
"As you will, Madam, so you do not delay the application," cried Lord Roos.
"Drink of this, my child," said Lady Lake, after she had poured some drops of the cordial into a glass.
"I will take it from no hand but my husband's," murmured Lady Roos.
"How?" exclaimed her mother, frowning.
"Give it me, I say, Madam," cried Lord Roos. "Is this a time for hesitation, when you see her life hangs upon a thread, which you yourself may sever?"
And taking the glass from her, he held it to his wife's lips; tenderly supporting her while she swallowed its contents.
It was not long before the effects of the cordial were manifest. The deathly hue of the skin changed to a more healthful colour, and the pulsations of the heart became stronger and more equal; and though the debility could not be so speedily repaired, it was apparent that the work of restoration had commenced, and might be completed if the same treatment were pursued.
"Now I owe my life to you, my dear Lord," said Lady Roos, regarding her husband with grateful fondness.
