It was about two days after the period of which we have spoken, when the
Earl of Sunbury, caring very little for the loss he had met with on the
road, and thinking of it merely as one of those unpleasant circumstances
which occur to every man now and then, sat in his library with every
sort of comfort and splendour about him, enjoying in dignified ease the
society of mighty spirits from the past, in those works which have given
and received an earthly immortality. His hand was upon Sallust; and
having just been reading the awful lines which present in Catiline the
type of almost every great conspirator, he raised his eyes and gazed on
vacancy, calling up with little labour, as it were, a substantial image
to his mind's eye of him whom the great historian had displayed.
The hour was about nine o'clock at night, and the windows were closed,
when suddenly a loud ringing of the bell made itself heard, even in the
Earl's library. As the person who came, by applying at the front
entrance, evidently considered himself a visitor of the Earl, that
nobleman placed his hand upon the open page of the book and waited for a
farther announcement with a look of vexation, muttering to himself,
"This is very tiresome: I thought, at all events, I should have had a
few days of tranquillity and repose."
"A gentleman, my lord," said one of the servants, entering, "is at the
gate, and wishes to speak with your lordship."
"Have you asked what is his business?" demanded the Earl.
"He will not mention it, my lord," replied the servant, "nor give his
name either; but he says your lordship told him to call upon you."
"Oh! admit him, admit him," said the peer; "put a chair there, and bring
some chocolate."
After putting the chair, the man retired, and a moment after returned,
saying, "The gentleman, my lord."
The door opened wide, and the tall fine form of Lennard Sherbrooke
entered, leading by the hand the beautiful boy whom we have before
described, who now gazed about him with a look of awe and surprise.
Little less astonishment was visible on the countenance of the Earl
himself; and until the door was closed by the servant, he continued to
gaze alternately upon Sherbrooke and the boy, seeming to find in the
appearance of each much matter for wonder.
"Do me the favour of sitting down," he said at length "I think I have
had the advantage of seeing you before."
"Once, my lord," replied Sherbrooke, "and then it must have been but
dimly."
"Not more than once?" demanded the Earl: "your face is somewhat familiar
to me, and I think I could connect it with a name."
"Connect it with none, my lord," said Sherbrooke: "that name is at an
end, at least for a time: the person for whom you take me is no more. I
should have thought that you knew such to be the case."
"I did, indeed, hear," said the Earl, "that he was killed at the Boyne;
but still the likeness is so great, and my acquaintance with him was so
slight, that--"
"He died at the Boyne, my lord," said Sherbrooke, looking down, "in a
cause which was just, though the head and object of that cause was
unworthy of connexion with it." The Earl's cheek grew a little red; but
Sherbrooke continued, with a slight laugh, "I did not, however, come
here, my lord, to offend you with my view of politics. We have only once
met, my lord, that I know of in life, but I have heard you kindly spoken
of by those I loved and honoured. You, yourself, told me, that if you
could serve me you would; and I come to claim fulfilment of that offer,
though what I request may seem both extraordinary and extravagant to
demand."
The Earl bent down his eyes upon the table, and drew his lips in
somewhat close, for he in no degree divined what request was coming; and
he was much too old a politician to encourage applications, the very
proposers of which announced them as extravagant. "May I ask," he said,
at length, "what it is you have to propose? I am quite ready to do any
reasonable thing for your service, as I promised upon an occasion to
which I need not farther refer."
Three servants at that moment entered the room, with chocolate, long cut
slices of toast, and cold water; and the conversation being thus
interrupted, the Earl invited his two guests to partake; and calling the
boy to him, fondled him for some moments at his knee, playing with the
clustering curls of his bright hair, and asking him many little kindly
questions about his sports and pastimes.
The boy looked up in his face well pleased, and answered with so much
intelligence, and such winning grace, that the Earl, employing exactly
the same caress that Sherbrooke had often done before, parted the fair
hair on his forehead, and kissed his lofty brow.
When the servants were gone, Sherbrooke instantly resumed the
conversation. "My request, my lord," he said, "is to be a very strange
one; a request that will put you to some expense, though not a very
great one; and will give you some trouble, though, would to God both the
trouble and expense could be undertaken by myself."
"Perhaps," said the Earl, turning his eyes to the boy, "it may be
better, sir, that we speak alone for a minute or two. I am now sure that
I cannot be mistaken in the person to whom I speak, although I took you
at first for one that is no more. We will leave your son here, and he
can amuse himself with this book of pictures."
Thus saying he rose, patted the boy's head, and pointed out the book he
referred to. He then threw open a door between that room and the next,
which was a large saloon, well lighted, and having led the way thither
with Sherbrooke, he held with him a low, but earnest conversation for
some minutes.
"Well, sir," he said at length, "well, sir, I will not, and must not
refuse, though it places me in a strange and somewhat difficult
situation; but indeed, indeed, I wish you would listen to my
remonstrances. Abandon a hopeless, and what, depend upon it, is an
unjust cause,--a cause which the only person who could gain by it has
abandoned and betrayed. Yield to the universal voice of the people; or
if you cannot co-operate with the government that the popular voice has
called to power, at all events submit; and, I doubt not in the least,
that if, coupled with promises and engagements to be a peaceful subject,
you claim the titles and estates--"
"My lord, it cannot be," replied Sherbrooke, interrupting him: "you
forget that I belong to the Catholic church. However, you will remember
our agreement respecting the papers, and other things which I shall
deposit with you this night: they are not to be given to him till he is
of age, under any circumstances, except that of the King's restoration,
when you may immediately make them public."
As he spoke, he was turning away to return to the library; but the Earl
stopped him, saying, "Stay yet one moment: would it not be better to
give me some farther explanations? and have you nothing to say with
regard to the boy's education? for you must remember how I, too, am
situated."
"I have no farther explanations to give, my lord," replied Sherbrooke;
"and as to the boy's education, I must leave it entirely with yourself.
Neither on his religious nor his political education will I say a word.
In regard to the latter, indeed, I may beg you to let him hear the
truth, and, reading what is written on both sides, to judge for himself.
Farther I have nothing to say."
"But you will understand," replied the other, with marked emphasis,
"that I cannot and do not undertake to educate him as I would a son of
my own. He shall have as good an education as possible; he shall be
fitted, as far as my judgment can go, for any station in the state, to
enter any gentlemanly profession, and to win his way for himself by his
own exertions. But you cannot and must not expect that I should accustom
him to indulgence or expense in any way that the unfortunate
circumstances in which he is placed may render beyond his power to
attain, when you and I are no longer in being to support or aid him."
"You judge wisely, my lord," replied Sherbrooke, "and in those respects
I trust him entirely to you, feeling too deeply grateful for the relief
you have given me from this overpowering anxiety, to cavil at any
condition that you may propose."
"I have only one word more to say," replied the Earl, "which is, if you
please, I would prefer putting down on paper the conditions and
circumstances under which I take the boy: we will both sign the paper,
which may be for the security of us both."
Sherbrooke agreed without hesitation; and on their return to the
library, the Earl wrote for some time, while his companion talked with
and caressed the boy. When the Earl had done, he handed one of the
papers he had written to Sherbrooke, who read it attentively, and then
signing it returned it to the Earl. That nobleman in the mean time, had
signed a counterpart of the paper which he now gave to Sherbrooke; and
the latter, taking from his pocket the small packet of various articles
which we have seen him make up at the inn before he went out on the very
expedition which produced his present visit to the Earl, gave it into
the peer's hands, who put his seal upon it also.
This done, a momentary pause ensued, and Lennard Sherbrooke gazed
wistfully at the boy. A feeling of tenderness, which he could not
repress, gained upon his heart as he gazed, and seemed to overpower him;
for tears came up, and dimmed his sight. At length, he dashed them away;
and taking the boy up in his arms, he pressed him fondly to his bosom;
kissed him twice; set him down again; and then, turning to the Earl,
with a brow on which strong resolution was seen struggling with deep
emotion, he said, "Thank you, my lord, thank you!"
It was all he could say, and turning away hastily he quitted the room.
The Earl rang the bell, and ordered the servant to see that the
gentleman's horse was brought round. He then turned and gazed upon the
boy with a look of interest; but little Wilton seemed perfectly happy,
and was still looking over the book of paintings which the Earl had
given to him to examine.
"What can this be?" thought the Earl, as he looked at him; "can there be
perfect insensibility under that fair exterior?" And taking the boy by
the hand he drew him nearer.
"Are you not sorry he is gone?" the nobleman asked.
"Oh! he will not be long away," replied the boy: "he will come back in
an hour or two as he always does, and will look at me as I lie in bed,
and kiss me, and tell me to sleep soundly."
"Poor boy!" said the Earl, in a tone that made the large expressive eyes
rise towards his face with a look of inquiry: "You must not expect him
to be back to-night, my boy. Now tell me what is your name?"
"Wilton," replied the boy; but remembering that that was not sufficient
to satisfy a stranger, he added, "Wilton Brown. But how long will it be
before he comes back?"
"I do not know," replied the Earl, evading his question. "How old are
you, Wilton?"
"I am past eight," replied the boy.
"Happily, an age of quick forgetfulness!" said the Earl, in a low tone
to himself; and then applying his thoughts to make the boy comfortable
for the night, he rang for his housekeeper, and gave her such
explanations and directions as he thought fit.