"I shall never be willing for her to marry any one but Earle," said Lady Estelle. "We have plenty of time to think of that," he said. "I feel rather inclined to be jealous of this Earle Moray. Estelle, my darling, you have not said that you forgive me." He drew nearer to her, he clasped her in his arms, and kissed the pale, beautiful face. He might be faithless, he had been cruel, but in all the wide world he was the only love for her. She did not avert her face from the passionate kisses that he showered upon it. "You forgive me, Estelle, my wife?" "Yes," she replied, "I forgive you; I cannot help it; but I know quite well that I ought not." CHAPTER XLVI. A THUNDERBOLT IN A DUCAL PALACE. The Earl of Linleigh seemed to be indifferent as to the terms on which he obtained his pardon, provided only that he did obtain it. His thanks and gratitude were pleasing to hear. Her pale face relaxed as she listened. After all she had suffered, the long, silent agony of years--there was something very delightful in being loved. "And you will be good to me, my darling?" whispered the earl. "You will not do what you might do--take vengeance on me for my many sins?" "No," said Lady Estelle, "I will not do that." "And you will come with me to my home, Linleigh Towers, and reign there as its mistress and queen?" "I will do whatever makes you happiest," she said, with that sweet gentleness that seemed to sit so strangely upon her. "Estelle," said the earl, "of course the duke and duchess have not an inkling of our secret?" "No, they have not the faintest idea of it." "How foolish we were, my darling. It seems like a dream now that we ever did that wild, foolish deed. It is far more like a dream than a reality." "Yes," she sighed, "it was a sad thing for both of us." "I will tell them. You have had quite enough to bear. I will take the onus on myself. Give me--let me see--ten kisses; they will make me strong enough to fight any battle in your cause." He bent over her, and was busily engaged in taking the accurate number of kisses, when the door suddenly opened, and the duke and duchess entered the room, having returned from their drive together. The scene is better imagined than described. They were all well-bred people; but just at that moment the circumstances seemed to bewilder them. Lady Estelle sank pale and trembling into a chair--the moment she had dreaded for years had come at last. The earl was the first to recover himself. Coolly, as though nothing particular had occurred, the earl went up to the duke and duchess with outstretched hands. They greeted him kindly, but he was quick enough to detect something of restraint in their voices. They spoke of indifferent matters for some few moments, and then the duke asked if his guest had partaken of any refreshment. "We do not dine till eight," he said; "take some wine, at least."