Still the Duke could not speak, but trembled and looked into the fire. "You are a man of honour," said the King. "I have and do trust you. I shall never forget the services you rendered me, when such services were vital indeed; I believe I do not lack gratitude; I should never—I _could_ never—desert a friend." He exerted himself to speak with courtesy and animation, and there was real feeling behind his words; gratitude was indeed almost a fault with him. Cold as he appeared to outsiders, nothing could turn him when he had once given his affection; he had often, at the expense of his own interests and popularity, defended and upheld his friends. Shrewsbury clasped the edge of the chimneypiece and tried to speak, but made only some incoherent sound. "Let me hear no more of resignation, my lord," said William. The Duke turned and looked at him desperately, then suddenly and utterly broke down. "I am guilty, sire!" he cried. "I betrayed you, and you know it!" He fell into the chair beside him, and covered his white face with his quivering hands. "Your generosity is more than I can endure," he gasped. "I have been a villain, and I have a bitter punishment!" The King rose and looked at his minister. A heavy silence hung in the brilliantly firelit little chamber. The Duke was sobbing wretchedly. William went slightly pale. "Fenwick spoke the truth," cried Shrewsbury; "I have tampered with St. Germains——" The King crossed over to the young man, and laid his thin, beautiful hand on the bowed shoulders. "You are my friend," he said simply. "I trust you and wish to keep you with me. Nothing else, my dear lord, is of any matter." Shrewsbury’s answer came hoarsely. "It is of great matter to me that I have lost my honour——" The King answered gently. "While you say that, my lord Duke, you can have lost nothing——" Shrewsbury would not speak or look up. William returned to his seat at the desk, and began turning over the papers before him. After a few minutes he said, with his eyes still on his letters— "I have heard nothing—I know nothing—I trust you to continue in my service, my dear lord——" The Duke sprang up and stood with his back to the fire. "I cannot—I am not fit," he said desperately, yet with resolution. William flashed a glance over his shoulder. "Will you not serve England, then?" he cried, with a deep note in his voice, and waited for the answer, gazing brilliantly at the haggard young man. "No—no," muttered Shrewsbury. "I am broken—I am not fit——" There was a little silence. It was the King who spoke first. "I can say no more," he said quietly. "You have decided. I trust that you will justify your resolution to yourself." The Duke came heavily to the desk, laid the seals that were the symbol of his office on the desk, and was turning silently away, when the King held out his hand impulsively.