The tears had again run over Laura’s cheek; but as she returned the pressure of his hand, she replied—­“Thank you, dear Wilton—­thank you:  I know you would willingly do all for me, but you mistake, and I think cannot have heard what has happened.”

Those words instantly guided Wilton’s mind back to the right point, though for a moment thought hovered round it vaguely.  He recollected all that Lord Sherbrooke had said with regard to Sir John Fenwick, and the charge against the Duke, and he replied, “I had mistaken, Laura—­I had mistaken.  But what has happened?  I have been out wander ing long in the fields, thinking of but one subject, and melancholy enough, dear girl.”

“I know it, dear Wilton—­oh, I know it!” she replied, leaning her head upon his shoulder; “and I, too, have passed a wretched night, thinking of you.  Not that I ever feared all would not in the end go right, but I knew how miserable what had occurred would make you; and I knew how angrily my father sometimes speaks, how much more he says than he really means, and what pain he gives with out intending it.  The night was miserable enough, clear Wilton; but I knew not indeed how much more miserable the morning was to be.—­You have not heard, then, what has taken place?”

“I have heard nothing, dearest Laura,” replied Wilton; “I have heard nothing of any consequence since I came to town:  but I fear for your father, Laura; for I heard yesterday that some accusation had been brought against him by Sir John Fenwick; and though last night, in the agitation and pain of the moment, I forgot to tell him, I wrote a note, and sent it early this morning.”

“He got it before eight this morning,” replied Laura, “and sent to call me down in haste.  I found him partly angry, partly frightened, partly suspicious, and hesitating what to do.  I besought him, Wilton, to fly with all speed.  I pledged my word that Wilton, however ill-treated he might have been, and however he might feel that the services which he had rendered had been undervalued, would say nothing but that which was actually true, and absolutely necessary for the safety of those he loved.”

“Surely,” said Wilton, “he did not suspect me of falsifying the truth to give myself greater importance in his eyes?”

“Whatever were his suspicions, dear Wilton,” replied Lady Laura, “they were too soon painfully removed; for he had scarcely given orders to have breakfast immediately, and the carriage prepared without loss of time, when two Messengers arrived with a warrant for his committal to the Tower.  They treated us with all kindness,” continued Lady Laura, “waited till our preparations were made, permitted me to accompany him, and have promised that to-morrow or the day after—­as soon, in short, as a proper order can be made for it—­I shall be permitted to be with him, and have a room near his.  But oh, Wilton, you cannot imagine how my father’s mind is overthrown.  It seems, though I never knew it before, that he has really had some dealings with this Sir John Fenwick, and his whole reliance now appears to be upon you, Wilton.”