“For Heaven’s sake, do not—­for Heaven’s sake, do not!” cried Laura.  “My father would never forgive me, if, in consequence of anything I had said, you and Lord Byerdale were to have any dispute upon the matter, and the business were to fail.”

“Oh, fear not, fear not, Laura,” replied Wilton, smiling at her eagerness:  “there is no fear of any dispute.”

“Nay, but promise me,” she said—­“promise me, Wilton.”

“I do promise you, dear Laura,” he replied, “that nothing on earth which depends upon me, for your father’s liberation or escape, shall be wanting, and I promise you more, my beloved Laura, that I will not quarrel with the means, because my Laura’s hand is to be mine at once.”

“Well, Wilton,” continued Laura, still fearful that something might make the scheme go wrong, “I trust to you, and only beg you to remember, that if this does not succeed, my father will never forgive either you or me.”

Some farther conversation upon these subjects ensued, and all the arrangements of Laura and Wilton were made as far as it was possible.  There were feelings in the mind of Wilton—­that doubt of ultimate success, in fact, which we all feel when a prospect of bright and extraordinary happiness is suddenly presented to us, after many struggles with difficulties and dangers—­which led him to linger and enjoy the present hour.  But after a time, as he heard the clock chime two, and knew that every moment was now of importance, he hastened away to seek the Earl of Byerdale, and hear farther what was to be done for the escape of the Duke.

The Earl was not at home, however, nor at his office, and Wilton occupied himself for another hour in various preparations for the events that were likely to ensue.  At the end of that time he returned to the Earl of Byerdale’s house, and was immediately admitted.

“Well, Wilton!” exclaimed the Earl, as soon as he saw him, with a cheerful smile, in which there was, nevertheless, something sarcastic—­“have I not done well for you?  I think this proud Duke’s stomach is brought down sufficiently.”

“I am only grieved, my lord,” replied Wilton, “that either the Duke or Lady Laura should have cause to think that I made it a condition she should give me her hand before I aided in her father’s escape.  There seemed to me something degrading in such a course.”

The Earl’s brow, for a moment, grew as dark as a thunder-cloud, but it passed away in a sneer, and he contented himself with saying, “Are you so proud, also, my young sir?—­It matters not, however.  What did the Duke say to you?  He showed no reluctance, I trust.  We will bring his pride down farther, if he did.”

“I did not see the Duke, my lord,” replied Wilton, a good deal mortified at the tone the Earl assumed—­“I only saw Lady Laura.”

“And what said she?” demanded the Earl.  “Is she as proud as her father?”

“She showed no repugnance, my lord,” replied Wilton, “to do what was necessary for her father’s safety; and when she saw how much pained I was it should be thought that I would make such a condition with her, she only seemed apprehensive that such feelings might lead to any derangement of your lordship’s plan.”