ing more mortified the Earl of Byerdale than to find, that,
notwithstanding all his skill, there was still a something of
insincerity penetrated through the veil he cast over his conduct, and
made many persons, even the most easily deceived, doubtful of his
professions and advances.
"I trust your grace does not suspect me of treachery," he said, in a
sharp and offended tone.
"Not in the least, not in the least, my lord," replied the Duke; "but
I understood your lordship to say, that my escape by the means
proposed would be rendered quite certain, and I wish to ascertain
whether I had not mistaken you."
"Not in the slightest degree, my lord duke," replied the Earl. "I
pledge you my honour, that under the proposed arrangements you shall
be beyond the doors of this prison, and at perfect liberty, before
the dawn of day on Monday morning. I pledge myself to you in every
respect, and if it be not so, I will be ready to take your place.
Does this satisfy you?"
"Quite, quite," answered the Duke. "I could desire nothing more." And
the Earl, with a formal bow, opened the door and left him.

CHAPTER XLII.
As soon as the Earl of Byerdale was gone, the Duke called Laura from
her room, and told her what had been proposed. "Laura," he said, as
he concluded, "you do not answer me: but I took upon me to reply at
once, that you would be well pleased to lay aside pride and every
other feeling of the kind, to save your father from this torturing
suspense--to save perhaps his life itself."
Laura's cheeks had not regained their natural colour since the first
words respecting such a sudden marriage were spoken to her. That her
father had consented to her union with Wilton was of course most
joyful; but the early period fixed for such an important, such an
overwhelming change in her condition, was startling; and to think
that Wilton could have made it the condition of his using all his
exertions in her father's cause would have been painful--terrible, if
she could have believed it. We must not, indeed, say, that even if it
had been really so, she would have hesitated to give him her hand,
not only for her father's sake, but because she loved him, because,
as we have said before, she already looked upon herself as plighted
to him beyond all recall. She would have tried to fancy that he had
good motives which she did not know; she would have tried, in short,
to find any palliation for such conduct; but still it would have been
very painful to her--still it might, in a de