“My young lady is quite well, sir,” replied the servant; “but the Duke has had another bad fit of the gout in the beginning of the week—­which has made him wonderfully cross,” he added, lowering his voice and giving a marked look in Wilton’s face, which made the young gentleman feel that he intended his words as a sort of warning.

“I am afraid,” thought Wilton, “what I have to tell him will not diminish his crossness.”

But he said nothing aloud, and followed the servant to wards the Duke’s own particular sitting room.  He found that nobleman alone, with his foot upon a stool.  He had calculated as he went thither how he might best soften the tidings he had to bring; but the Duke began the conversation himself, and in a manner which instantly put all other thoughts to flight, and, to say the truth, banished Sir John Fenwick and his whole concerns from his young companion’s mind in a moment.

“So, sir, so,” he began, using none of the friendly and familiar terms that he generally applied to Wilton, “so you have really had the goodness to come down here again.”

“My lord duke,” replied Wilton, “your invitation to me was not only so general but so pressing, that always having found you a man of sincerity and truth, I took it for granted that you wished to see me, or you would not have asked me.”

“So I am, sir, so I am,” replied the Duke; “I am a man of sincerity and truth, and you shall find I am one, too.  But from your manner, I suppose my Lord of Byerdale has not told you the contents of my letter to him this morning.”

“He never told me,” replied Wilton, “that your grace had written to him at all; but so far from even hinting that my visit could be disagreeable to you, he told me that as he did not require my assistance I had better come down here.”

“He did, he did?” said the Duke.  “He is marvellous kind to send guests to my house, whom he knows that I do not wish to see.”

Wilton now began to divine the cause of the Duke’s present behaviour.  It was evident that Lord Byerdale, without letting him know anything about it, had interfered to demand for him the hand of Lady Laura.  How or in what terms he had done so, Wilton was somewhat anxious to ascertain, but he was so completely thunderstruck and surprised by his pre sent reception, that he could scarcely play the difficult game in which he was engaged with anything like calmness or forethought.

“My lord,” he replied, “it is probable that the Earl of Byerdale was more moved by kindness towards me than consideration for your grace.  As you do not tell me what was the nature of your correspondence, I can but guess at Lord Byerdale’s motives—­”

“Which were, sir,” interrupted the Duke, “to give you a farther opportunity of engaging my daughter’s affections against her father’s wishes and consent.  I suppose this was his object, at least.”