He took the order, then, and proceeded at once to the Tower, where, through walls, and palisades, and courts, he was led to that part of the building reserved for the confinement of state prisoners.  There was nothing very formidable or very gloomy in the appearance of the rooms and corridors through which he passed; but the sentry at the gates, the locked doors, the turning of keys, announced that he was in a place from which ever-smiling liberty was excluded; and the very first aspect of the Duke, when his young friend was admitted to the apartments assigned to that nobleman, showed how deeply he felt the loss of freedom.  In the few hours that had passed since Wilton last saw him, he lead turned very pale; and though still slightly lame, he was walking up and down the room with hasty and irregular steps.  The sound of the opening door made him start and turn round with a look of nervous apprehension; and when he beheld the countenance that presented itself, his face, indeed, lighted up with a smile, but that smile was so mingled with an expression of melancholy and agitation, that it seemed as if he were about to burst into tears.

“This is very kind of you, indeed, Wilton!” he exclaimed, stretching out his hand towards him:  “pray let us forget all that took place last night.  Indeed, your kindness in coming now must make a very great difference in my feelings towards you:  not only that, indeed, but your note, which reached me early this morning, and which had already made such a difference, that I should certainly have sent for you to talk over all matters more calmly, if this terrible misfortune had not happened to me.”

Was the Duke endeavouring to deceive Wilton?—­No, indeed, he was not!  Though there can be scarcely a doubt that, had he not been very much brought down by fear and anxiety, he would not have sent for Wilton at all.  The truth was, he had first deceived himself, and at that moment he firmly believed that he would have done everything that was kind and considerate towards Wilton and his daughter, even had he not been arrested.

“We will not think of any of these things, your grace,” replied Wilton.  “I need not tell you that I was both overjoyed to see Lady Laura, and terribly grieved to hear the cause of her coming.  As soon as I had heard from her your grace’s situation and wishes, I sent my servant to accompany her to Beaufort House.”

“Ay,” said the Duke, interrupting him, “in the agitation of the moment, poor girl, I forgot to send any one with her I kept my man here.  But what then, Wilton, what then?-You are always kind and considerate.—­What did you do then?”

“I went immediately to Lord Byerdale,” replied Wilton, “who seemed just to have heard of your arrest.  From him I obtained an order to see you; and he was kind enough also to write to his grace of Shrewsbury’s secretary to know upon what charge you had been arrested.”

“Ay, that is the point! that is the point!” exclaimed the Duke, eagerly.  “When we hear what is the charge, we can better judge what danger there is; in short, how one is situated altogether.”