“I regret likewise, my dear boy,” she said, “much that has gone before, nay, almost everything that has taken place in the conduct of him you speak of for many years past.  I regret it all deeply, and regret it far more than I do the present transaction.  You will think it strange, but I see not well how this was to be avoided.  Not that I believe,” she added, thoughtfully, “that we ought to frustrate bad men by bad means; but nevertheless, Wilton, here was a very great and high object to be attained:  utter destruction to all our hopes would have been the consequence of missing that object; and there was but one way of securing it.  This is to be the last enterprise of the kind ever undertaken; and it was that very fact which made me so fearful, for I know how treacherously fate deals with us in regard to any rash or evil acts.  How very often do we see that the last time—­the very last time—­men who have long gone on with impunity, are to commit anything that is wrong, punishment and discovery overtake them, and vengeance steps in before reformation.”

Wilton did not, of course, press the subject, as it was one, in regard to which he would have been forced to converse on abstract principles, while the others spoke from particular knowledge.  Nor was his mind attuned at that moment to much conversation of any kind, nor to any thoughts but those of his own grief.

The conversation lingered then till Green and Lord Sherbrooke returned.  Captain Byerly was now no longer with them, and not another word was said of the transactions of that night.  Green relapsed into gloomy silence, and very shortly after, the two ladies retired to rest.

The moment they were gone, Lord Sherbrooke grasped Wilton’s hand, saying, “What is the matter, Wilton?  You are evidently ill at ease.”

Wilton smiled.

“You give me none of your confidence, Sherbrooke,” he said, “and yet you demand mine.  However, I will tell you in one word what I might well have expected has occurred.  An explanation has taken place between the Duke and myself, and that bright vision has faded away.”

“Indeed!” said Lord Sherbrooke, thoughtfully.  “Have you, too, met with a reverse, Wilton?  I thought that you were one of the exempt, that everything was to smile upon you, that prosperity was to attend your footsteps even to the close of life.  But fear not, fear not, Wilton—­this is only a momentary frown of the capricious goddess.  She will smile again, and all be bright.  It is not in your fate to be un fortunate!”

“Nay, nay, Sherbrooke, this is cruel jesting,” said Wilton.  “Surely my lot is no very enviable one.”

“It is one of those that mend, Wilton,” replied Sherbrooke, sadly.  “I live but to lose.”