Wilton was sincerely pained and grieved for the Duke; and the moment
that he had seen Laura safely on her way towards Beaufort House, he
hastened to seek the Earl of Byerdale, supposing that he had returned
to his own dwelling, which was near at hand. He was still at
Whitehall, however, and thither Wilton accordingly went. He was
admitted immediately to the Earl's presence, and found him with a
number of written letters before him, folded up and ready for the
departure of the courier. Not knowing that there was anything in the
mere addresses of the letters that was not intended for him to see,
Wilton suffered his eye to rest upon them for a moment. The Earl
hastily gathered them together, but not before Wilton had remarked
that one of them was addressed to the Earl of Sunbury; and the very
haste with which the statesman removed them from his sight naturally
gave rise to a suspicion of something being wrong, though Wilton
could form no definite idea of what was the motive for this
concealment.
"Have you heard that the Duke is arrested, Wilton?" was the Earl's
first question, before Wilton himself could speak.
"Yes, my lord," replied Wilton. "I have heard, and was somewhat
surprised, as your lordship did not speak to me on the subject in the
morning."
"I knew nothing about it," replied the Earl, "except that I thought
it likely. It was his grace of Shrewsbury's doing, and I do not doubt
that he was very right, for one cannot punish mean offenders and let
high ones pass."
"Certainly not, my lord," replied Wilton; "but from what I know of
the Duke, I should think that he was the last man on earth to do any
treasonable act. I have come to ask your lordship's permission to
visit him in the Tower, and to obtain an order to that effect,
hoping, too, that you may tell me the particulars of the charge
against him, for he is now very anxious to see me."
"Oh ho!" exclaimed the Duke. "What! is his pride come down so soon?
What! in one single day does he send for the man that he maltreated
the night before? Such is human pride and human weakness. Well, well,
Wilton, we will not mar your young fortunes. You shall have every
opportunity, and perhaps may serve the Duke; although, I very much
fear," he added, in a graver tone, "from the Duke of Shrewsbury
having signed the warrant, that your good friend has been led much
farther into these matters than you are aware of. Make out an order
to see him, and I will sign it."
"But cannot I, my lord, obtain any information," said Wilton, as he
wrote the order, "concerning the real charges against the Duke?"
"I really am not aware of them," replied Lord Byerdale. "The
business has not been done through this office. I have seen Fenwick,
indeed, but he only spoke generally, and seemed inclined to accuse
everybody indiscriminately. However, I will send to Lord Shrewsbury,
and ask all the particulars; but, by the way, Shrewsbury went out of
town to-day. I must write to Vernon, his secretary, instead;" and
sitting down, he wrote and despatched a note to a neighbouring
ministerial office. An answer was almost immediately returned in the
following terms:--
"MY LORD,-I have been honoured with your lordship's
note, and beg to inform you that the charge against the Duke
of Gaveston is for high treason, in having heard and connived
at the projected assassination of the King in the beginning
of this year, together with various other counts, such as
that of levying war, holding treasonable correspondence with
the enemy, and concealing the designs of traitors, &c. Your
lordship's order will admit Mr. Brown immediately to the
Tower, as no particular directions have been given in regard
to keeping the Duke a close prisoner. His grace of Shrewsbury
went out of town to Eyford at eleven this morning.--
I have the honour to be, your lordship's obedient servant,"
&c.
"There, Wilton," said the Earl, putting over the note to his
secretary, "there is all the information that I can obtain on the
subject; and here, take the order, and go and see your friend the
Duke. Tell him I will come and see him to-morrow, and give him what
consolation you can; but yet do not act like a silly boy, and make
too light of the business, for two reasons: first, because the matter
is really serious--the good folks of London have an appetite for
blood upon them just now, and will not be satisfied unless they see a
head struck off every now and then; and next, because, if his
lordship do escape the abbreviating process of Tower Hill, we shall
have to bring down his pride still farther than it is, to make him
give ready consent to your marriage with his daughter."
"I would rather win his consent by good services, my lord," replied
Wilton, "than drive him to give it by any harsh means."
"Pshaw! you are a silly boy," replied the Earl: "there is nothing so
tiresome to a man of experience as the false generosity with which
young men set out in the world. Here, when you have the opportunity
in your power of inducing the Duke easily to give his consent to that
which is most for his own interests, for yours, and for everybody's,
you would let it slip, remain miserable yourself, and see Laura made
miserable too, from the mere idle fancy of not taking advantage of
misfortunes which the Duke has brought upon himself; but I will
consent to no such idle folly, Wilton. I am determined to take care
of your interests, if you do not take care of them for yourself, and
I have a right to do so, as I believe I am your nearest living
relation. And now, my good youth, mark my words, and remember that I
am one who will keep them to the letter. The Duke, I know, has so far
committed himself as to be really criminal. How far his crime may be
aggravated I do not know. If he have brought his own head to the
block I cannot help it, and then all matters will be clear, for Lady
Laura will be free to do as she pleases; but as his pardon for the
offences he has really committed must pass through my hands, if it
should be found that his errors are not of a very deep dye, I give
you fair warning, that he shall not set his foot beyond the doors of
the Tower till Lady Laura is your bride. Say not a word, for my
determination is taken, and he shall find me somewhat firmer in my
purpose than he has shown himself towards you."
"I suppose your lordship means," replied Wilton, "till he has given
his consent to the marriage. The Duke is too honourable a man to
revoke it when once it is granted."
"No, by Heaven!" answered Lord Byerdale: "she shall be yours, fully,
irrevocably your wife, ere he sets his foot forth. There are such
things, I tell you, Wilton, as quarrels about marriage-settlements. I
will have none of that. I will be a better friend to you than you
would be to yourself. However, on second thoughts, say nothing about
it to the Duke. I will take it all upon myself, which will spare you
pain. You shall see that the proposal will come from the Duke
himself."
Wilton smiled; and we cannot think that he was much to blame if there
was some pleasure mingled in his feelings at the thought of soon and
easily obtaining her he loved, even though he experienced repugnance
to the means which the Earl proposed to employ. He resolved,
therefore, to let the matter take its course, feeling very sure that
the result of the Duke's present situation would be much affected,
and his liberation greatly facilitated, by suffering the Earl to
manage the matter in his own way.
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 had 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."
"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. Let me beseech you,
therefore, my lord, to be most careful and guarded in your speech; to
content yourself with simply denying all treasonable intentions, and
to leave me, and any other friends whom you may think fit to employ,
to endeavour, by using all extraordinary means, to save you even from
the pain and risk of trial. Our greatest hope and the greatest
security for you, is the fact--which is so generally reported that I
fancy it must be true--that Sir John Fenwick has charged a number of
persons in the highest stations, and some even near to the King's
person and counsels. It will be for every one's interest, therefore,
to cast discredit upon all his accusations, and amongst the rest,
perhaps, this also may fall to the ground."
"Could you not see him, Wilton, could you not see him?" demanded the
Duke, eagerly. "Perhaps he might be persuaded to mitigate his charge;
to withdraw it; or to add some account of the abhorrence I expressed
at the plans and purposes I heard."
"I see no way by which I could gain admittance, my lord," replied
Wilton. "He is a close prisoner in Newgate. I know no one who even
is acquainted with him; and I believe none but his wife and various
members of the government are admitted to see him alone. However, I
will do my best, my lord, and if I can gain admission, I will."
The Duke cast himself in deep despondency into a chair, and mused for
several minutes without reply, seeing evidently, from Wilton's words
and manner, that he thought his case a desperate one. After a moment,
however, a momentary ray of hope crossed his countenance again.
"Cannot you see the Lady Mary Fenwick?" he said. "She could surely
gain you admission to her husband. She is a distant relation of my
own, too, for my grandfather married Lady Carlisle's aunt. Beseech
her, Wilton, to gain you admittance; and try also--try, by all
means--to make her use her influence with her husband in my behalf.
Perhaps at her entreaty he would modify the charge, or retract a part
of it. It can do him no good--it may ruin me."
"I will do my best, my lord," replied Wilton, "and in the meantime my
Lord of Byerdale desired me to tell your grace that he would visit
you to-morrow. He comes, indeed, merely as a friend; but I would beg
your grace to remember that he is also a minister of the crown, bound
by his office to give intimation of everything affecting the welfare
of the state."
"Oh, I will be careful, I will be careful!" replied the Duke. "But
can you think of nothing else, Wilton? can we fall upon no means?
Would to Heaven I had always taken your advice! I should not now be
here. Should I ever escape, you will find me a different being,
Wilton. I will not forget your kindness, nor be ungrateful for it;"
and he fell into a somewhat sad and feeble commentary upon his own
conduct, briefly expressing regret for what he had done, partly
alleging excuses for it, but still evidently speaking under the
overpowering influence of fear; while pride, that weakest and most
enfeebling of all evil passions, gave him no support under
affliction, no strength and vigour in the moment of danger. In his
heart Wilton could not respect him; but still he had nourished in his
bosom feelings of affectionate regard towards him: he knew that
Laura's happiness was not to be separated from her father's safety,
and he resolved once more to exert every energy of mind and body in
the service of the Duke.
For about half an hour more their conversation was protracted in the
same strain, and then Wilton took his leave, telling the prisoner
that he feared he should not be able to visit him on the following
day. The Duke pressed him much to do so; but when he heard that every
spare moment of Wilton's time was to be devoted to his service, he
readily agreed, for that object, to lose the consolation of seeing
him.
According to his promise, Wilton sped as fast as possible to Beaufort
House; and though the brief conversation which ensued between him and
Laura was mingled with much that was sad, yet the very fact of being
together--of pouring out every thought of the heart to each other--of
consulting with each other upon the welfare of one who was now an
object of the deepest interest to both--was in itself a happiness, to
Wilton powerful and intense; to Laura, sweet, soothing, and
supporting. During the short time that Wilton stayed, the
conversation turned entirely upon the Duke. At that moment, and with
but little cheering hope to give, Wilton could not mingle the subject
of his own feelings with the sadder ones which brought him thither.
Love, indeed, pervaded every word he spoke; love, indeed, gave its
colouring to all his feelings and to all his thoughts; but that very
love was of a kind which prevented him from making it the subject of
discourse at such an hour as that. Nor was his visit long, for it was
now dark; and after one whole day, which he knew had been spent in
anxiety, care, and fatigue, and after a night which he likewise knew
had gone by in sorrow and anguish, he felt that Laura would require
repose, and hoped, though but faintly, that she would obtain it.
He left her, then, in less than an hour, and took his way homeward,
meditating over what might be done for the Duke, but seeing no hope,
no chance, but in the exertions of the Earl of Byerdale, or the
merciful interposition of the Duke of Shrewsbury. He was not without
hope that the Earl would exert himself; though when he asked his own
mind the question, "Upon what motives, and to what effect, will the
Earl exert himself?" he was obliged to pause in doubt--ay, and in
suspicion. He could not divest his own heart of a conviction that the
Earl was acting insincerely; that there was some object in view which
it was impossible for him to divine; some purpose more than mere
kindness to a relation whom he had never known or acknowledged for so
many years of their mutual life.