“But you will come back,” said Lady Laura, holding out her hand to him:  “you will not be away long.”

“Until the evening, perhaps,” said Wilton, pressing that fair hand in his own:  “I may have many things to do, and the Earl may also require my presence.”

“Oh, but you must come to dinner—­I insist,” said Lady Laura.  “You know I have a right to command now,” she added, in a lower tone, “and therefore I will tell my father to expect you at dinner.”

“I will come if I can,” replied Wilton, “but—­”

His sentence was interrupted, however, by the Duke’s voice at the top of the stairs, exclaiming, “Surely that is Laura’s voice?  Laura, Laura!  My child, my dear child!”

And the next moment, Lady Laura, darting on, was in her father’s arms.

Wilton Brown turned away; and without waiting to press a third person upon a scene which should always be enacted between two alone, he got into the post-chaise, and bade the postilion drive him back into London, for it must be recollected that Beaufort House was out of the town.  This was easily accomplished, as the reader may imagine; and having dressed himself, and removed the traces of blood and travel from his face, he hastened to the house of Lord Byerdale, to give hire an account of the success of his expedition.

The Earl had not been long up; but he had already gone to his cabinet to write letters, and take his chocolate at the same time.  On entering, Wilton, without any surprise, found Arden, the Messenger, in the presence of the Earl; for the man, knowing that the situation in which he stood was a somewhat perilous one, was of course anxious to make the best of his story before the young gentleman appeared.  What did very much surprise Wilton, however, was the gracious and even affectionate manner in which the Earl received him.  He rose from his chair, advanced two or three steps to meet him, and shaking him warmly by the hand, exclaimed, “Welcome back, my dear Wilton.  So you have been fully and gallantly successful, I find.  But what is all this that Arden is telling me?  He is making a terrible accusation against you here, of letting off Sir George Barkley, one of the most notorious Jacobites in Europe—­a very dangerous person, indeed.”

“My lord,” replied Wilton, “Mr. Arden is repeating to you a falsehood which he devised last night.  It is quite true, indeed, that if he had not been a most notorious coward, and run away at the first appearance of danger, there might have been a chance, though a very remote one, of our securing Sir George Barkley.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the Earl:  “then you did meet with him?”

“Amongst the persons whom I had to encounter,” replied Wilton, “there was a gentleman whom they called Sir George, and who, from his height, his age, and a deep scar upon his cheek, I have no earthly doubt, is Sir George Barkley:  but he had been gone for an hour before this mighty brave gentleman, having collected forty or fifty people to keep his own head from harm, thought fit to come back and seek for me.  The person who was with me when he did return was a tall fine-looking young man of five or six and twenty.”