“In regard to these transactions, my lord duke, I know nothing, as I before informed you:  but if you will tell me how I can serve you, I will do it with pleasure.”

“I was sure you would, Mr. Brown, I was sure you would,” said the Duke.  “You can do me the greatest service, my dear young friend, by promising me positively upon your word of honour never to mention to any one that I went to this meeting at the Old King’s Head, or, in fact, that I knew anything about it.  I especially could wish that it be not mentioned to the Earl of Byerdale; for I know that he is a very fierce and vindictive man, and I do not wish to put myself in his power, just at present, above all times.  Nobody on earth knows it but you and the people engaged in the affair, whose mouths are stopped, of course.  We left the carriage on this side of Paul’s, and I sent the two running footmen different ways, so that, if you give me your honour, I am quite safe.”

“I give you my honour, most assuredly, my lord duke,” replied Wilton, “that I will never, under any circumstances, or at any time, mention one word of that which has taken place between us on the subject.  Rest perfectly sure of that.  Indeed, I know nothing; I therefore have nothing to tell.  But, at all events, I will utter not one word.”

“Thank you, thank you!” cried the Duke, grasping his hand with joy and enthusiasm—­“thank you, thank you a thousand times, my dear young friend!” and in the excitement of the moment, in his dressing-gown and slippers as he was, he led Wilton out to the room where his daughter was seated, and without any explanation informed her that he, Wilton, was one of his best and dearest friends.  He then rushed back again to conclude the little that wanted to the labours of his toilet, leaving Wilton alone with her at the breakfast-table.

“Oh, Mr. Brown,” exclaimed Laura, with her face glowing with eagerness, “I hope and trust that you have settled this business, for I have been most anxious ever since last night.  Sir John Fenwick behaved so ill, and quitted the house in such fury, and that dark-looking man who accompanied him back, used such threatening language towards my father, that indeed—­indeed, I feared for the consequences this morning.”

Wilton evidently saw that her fears pointed in any direction but the right one, and that she apprehended some hostile rencontre between her father and the two rash Jacobites with whom he had suffered himself to be entangled.  Knowing, however, that it could be anything but the desire of such men to call public attention to their proceedings, he did not scruple to give her every assurance that no duel, or angry collision of any kind, was likely, to take place:  at which news her face glowed with pleasure, and her lips flowed with many an expression of gratitude, although he assured hex again and again that he had done nothing on earth to merit her thanks.