I must haste to apprise him of this heartrending intelligence." As Tressilian, thus conversing with himself, approached to try some means of opening the door, or climbing over it, he perceived there was a key put into the lock from the outside.

It turned round, the bolt revolved, and a cavalier, who entered, muffled in his riding-cloak, and wearing a slouched hat with a drooping feather, stood at once within four yards of him who was desirous of going out.

They exclaimed at once, in tones of resentment and surprise, the one "Varney!" the other "Tressilian!" "What make you here ?" was the stern question put by the stranger to Tressilian, when the moment of surprise was past--"what make you here, where your presence is neither expected nor desired ?" "Nay, Varney," replied Tressilian, "what make you here?
Are you come to triumph over the innocence you have destroyed, as the vulture or carrion-crow comes to batten on the lamb whose eyes it has first plucked out?
Or are you come to encounter the merited vengeance of an honest man?
Draw, dog, and defend thyself!" Tressilian drew his sword as he spoke, but Varney only laid his hand on the hilt of his own, as he replied, "Thou art mad, Tressilian.

I own appearances are against me; but by every oath a priest can make or a man can swear, Mistress Amy Robsart hath had no injury from me.

And in truth I were somewhat loath to hurt you in this cause--thou knowest I can fight." "I have heard thee say so, Varney," replied Tressilian; "but now, methinks, I would fain have some better evidence than thine own word." "That shall not be lacking, if blade and hilt be but true to me," answered Varney; and drawing his sword with the right hand, he threw his cloak around his left, and attacked Tressilian with a vigour which, for a moment, seemed to give him the advantage of the combat.