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."
"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."