“He may well be, indeed,” said the Duke; “for nothing ever made me more indignant than when I first heard of the purposed assassination and invasion myself.  With that I had nothing on earth to do.  I should have hoped that his majesty’s indignation on other points would have subsided by this time, and that clemency would have resumed her sway towards those who may have acted imprudently but not criminally.”

“Not yet, not yet, I fear, my lord,” replied the Earl; “six months, or a year longer, indeed, would have made all the difference.  If your grace had but taken the advice and warning given you by my wise and virtuous young friend, Wilton, and made your escape at once to Flanders, or any neutral ground.  I am sure I gave you opportunity enough.”

“But, my lord,” replied the Duke, “Wilton never gave me any warning till the very morning that I was arrested.  It is true, indeed,” he added, recollecting the circumstances, “poor Wilton and I unfortunately had a little quarrel on the preceding night, and he left me very much offended, I believe, and hurt, as I dare say he told you, my lord.”

“Oh, he told me nothing, your grace,” replied Lord Byerdale.  “Wilton, knowing my feeling on the subject, very wisely acted as he knew I should like, or, at least, intended to act as he knew I should like, without saying anything to me upon the subject.  I might very well remain somewhat wilfully ignorant of what was going on, but I must not openly connive, you know.—­Then it was not really,” he continued, “that your grace refused to go?”

“Oh, not in the least, not in the least!” replied the Duke.  “I received his note early on the next morning, after he left me, and was consulting with my dear child here as to the necessary arrangements for going, when the Messengers arrived.”

“Most unfortunate, indeed,” said the Earl.  “I had concluded, judging from your letter to me on the preceding day, that your grace that afternoon, notwithstanding all I had said regarding the young gentleman’s family, refused him the honour to which he aspired, and would not follow the advice he gave.”

Lady Laura rose, and moved towards one of the windows; and her father, with his colour a little heightened, and his manner somewhat agitated, replied, but in a low tone, “I did indeed refuse him Laura’s hand, and, I am afraid, somewhat harshly and angrily; but I never refused to take his advice or warning.”

“Ay, but the two subjects are so mingled up together,” said the Earl, “that the one may be considered to imply the other.”

“I see not how, my lord, I see not how they are so mingled,” said the Duke.

“Ay, it may be difficult to explain,” answered the Earl, “and I cannot do it myself; but so it is.  It might not indeed be too late now, if it were not for this unfortunate prejudice of yourself or Lady Laura against my young friend, who, I must say, has served you both well.”