"No," said the earl; "the truth is, before I can accept your hospitality, I have something to tell you--something that will cause you just and righteous anger--to that I submit; but I pray you, as the fault was all mine, so let the blame be all mine. Spare every one else." He looked so handsome, so earnest, so agitated, that the duke felt touched. What could he have done to offend him? Nothing but love his daughter; and that was surely no such terrible crime. He merely smiled as he heard the words; the duchess, with a sudden nervous movement of the hands, drew nearer to her daughter. "I have no excuse," said the earl, "to offer for this story which I have to tell--no excuse. It was the passionate, mad folly of a boy--the trusting simplicity and innocence of a young girl." Then, for the first time, an expression of fear came into the duke's face, and the duchess looked as though she were turned to stone. "Listen to me, your grace. Twenty years ago, when I was Ulric Studleigh, a captain in the army, without even the prospect of advancement, I fell in love with Lady Estelle." He was still looking in the duke's grave face, and his words seemed to fail him, his lips grew dry and hot, his hands trembled. "I am ashamed of my folly," he said, in a low, agitated voice, "and I find it hard to tell." "You will remember, Lord Linleigh, that you are keeping us in suspense, and Lady Estelle is our only child. Be brief, for her mother's sake, if not for my own." The earl continued: "Do not think me a coward, your grace; I have faced the enemy in open fight as often as any soldier. I never fled from a foe, but I would sooner face a regiment of foes, each with a drawn sword in his hand, than stand before you to tell what I have to tell." "Be brief, my lord," was the impatient comment. "Be brief." "In a few words, then, your grace, I loved your daughter. I won her love, and privately, unknown to any person, save one, we were married twenty years ago." The duchess uttered a low cry of sorrow and dismay. The duke suddenly dropped into his chair like a man who had been shot. A painful silence fell over the room, broken only by the sobs of Lady Estelle. "Married!" said the duke, at last. "Oh, Heaven! has my daughter so cruelly deceived me?" "The fault was all mine, your grace; shooting would be far too good for me. I persuaded her, I followed her, I made her wretched, I gave her no peace until she consented." "Oh! Estelle, my daughter, is it true?" cried the duke. "Is it--can it be true?" Estelle's only answer was a series of heartbreaking sobs. "It is true, your grace," said the earl. "If any suffering could undo it, I would suffer the extremity of torture. I repent with my whole heart; let me pray your grace not to turn a deaf ear to my repentance." The duke made no answer, but laid his head on his clasped hands.