“Why, I grieve to say, my lord,” replied Wilton, “that the charge is heavy.”

“Good God!” exclaimed the Duke, “what is it, Wilton, what is it?  Do not keep me in suspense, but tell me quickly.  What does the villain charge me with?  He first spoke upon the subject to me, and he knows that I am as innocent as the child unborn.”

“It would seem, your grace,” replied Wilton, “that he levels charges at many persons most likely as innocent as you are; and that he wishes to save his own life by endangering the lives of other people.  He charges you with neither more nor less than high treason, for having been cognisant of, if not consenting to, the plan for assassinating the King—­”

“I never consented to such a thing!” exclaimed the Duke, interrupting him.  “I abhorred the very idea.  I never heard of it—­I—­I—­I never heard it distinctly proposed.  Some one, indeed, said it would be better; but there was no distinct proposal of the kind; and I went away directly, saying, that I would have no farther part in their counsels.”

Wilton’s countenance fell at hearing this admission; for he now for the first time saw fully how terrible was the situation in which the Duke had placed himself.  That nobleman, then, had, in fact, heard and had concealed the design against the King’s life.  The simple law of high treason, therefore, held him completely within its grasp.  That law declared a person concealing treason to be as guilty as the actual deviser or perpetrator thereof, and doomed them to the same penalty.  There was no hope, there was no resource, but in the clemency of the government; and the words used by Lord Byerdale rang in Wilton’s ears, in regard to the bloody appetite of the times for executions.  He turned very pale, then, and remained silent for a moment or two, while the Duke clasped his hands, and gazed in his face.

“For Heaven’s sake, my lord,” he said, at length, “withhold such admission from anybody else, for I fear very much a bad use might be made of it.”

“I see that you think that the case goes ill with me,” said the Duke.  “But I give you my word of honour, my dear Wilton, that the moment I heard of the designs of these men I left the place in indignation.”

“It is necessary, my lord,” replied Wilton, “that your grace should know how you stand; and I fear very much that if this business can be proved at all, the best view of the case that can be taken will be, that you have committed misprision of treason, which may subject you to long imprisonment and forfeiture.  If the government deals leniently with you, such may be the case; but if the strict law be urged, I fear that your having gone to this meeting at all, and consented to designs against the government of the King, and afterwards concealing the plans for introducing foreign forces, and for compassing the death of the King, must be considered by the peers as nothing short of paramount treason itself.