IN about an hour's time, the Earl of Sunbury descended to breakfast; and
he expressed no small pleasure at the unexpected appearance of his young
protege.
"You were always a kind and an affectionate boy, Wilton," he said; "and
you have kept your good feelings unchanged, I am happy to find. Depend
upon it, when one can do so, amongst all the troubles, and cares, and
corrupting things of this world, we find in the feelings of the heart
that consolation, when sorrows and disappointments assail us, which no
gift or favour of man can impart. I believe, indeed, that within the
last six months, with all the bodily pains and mental anxieties I have
had to suffer, I should either have died or gone mad, had not my mind
obtained relief, from time to time, in the enjoyment of the beauties of
nature, the works of art, and the productions of genius. Nor have my
thoughts been altogether unoccupied with you," he added, after a
moment's pause, "and that occupation would have been most pleasant to my
mind, Wilton, inasmuch as through your whole course you have given me
undivided satisfaction. But, alas! I cannot do for you all that I should
wish to do. You know that my own estates are all entailed upon distant
relatives, whom I do not even know. I am not a man, as you are well
aware, to accumulate wealth; and all I can possibly assure to you is the
enjoyment of the same income I have hitherto allowed you, and which, in
case of my death, I will take care shall be yours."
Wilton listened, as may be supposed, with affection and gratitude; but
he tried, after expressing all he felt, and assuring the Earl that he
possessed as much as he desired, to put an end to a conversation which
was rendered the more painful to him by the marked alteration which he
perceived in the person of his friend since he had last seen him.
The Earl, however, would not suffer the subject to drop, replying, "I
know well that you are no way extravagant, Wilton, and maintain the
appearance of a gentleman upon smaller means than many could or would;
but yet, my good youth, you are naturally ambitious; and there are a
thousand wants, necessities, and desires still to be gratified, which at
present you neither perceive nor provide for. You are not destined,
Wilton, to go on all your life, content in the seclusion of a college,
with less than three hundred a year. Every man should strive to fulfil
to the utmost his destiny--I mean, should endeavour to reach the highest
point in any way which God has given him the capability of attaining.
You must become more than you are, greater, higher, richer, by your own
exertions. Had my health suffered me to remain here, I could have easily
facilitated your progress in political life. Now I must trust your
advancement to another; and you will perhaps think it strange, that the
person I do trust it to should not be any of my old and intimate
political friends. But I have my reasons for what I do, which you will
some day know; and before I go, I must exact one promise of you, which
is to put yourself under the guidance of the person whom I have
mentioned, and to accept whatever post he may think the best calculated
to promote your future views. As he now holds one of the highest
stations in the ministry, I could have wished him to name you his
private secretary, but that office is at present filled, and he has
promised me most solemnly to find you some occupation within the next
half-year. Your allowance shall be regularly transmitted to you till my
return; and, until you receive some appointment, you had better remain
at Oxford, which may give you perhaps the means of taking your first
degree. And now, my dear boy, that I have explained all this, what were
you about to say regarding the adventures you met with in your journey?"
"First let me ask, sir," replied Wilton, "who is the gentleman you have
so kindly interested for me?"
"Oh! I thought you had divined: it is the Earl of Byerdale, now all
potent in the counsels of the King--at least, so men suppose and say.
However, I look upon it that you have given me the promise that I ask."
"Undoubtedly, my lord," replied Wilton: "in such a case, I must ever
look upon your wishes as a command."
The conversation then turned to other and lighter matters, and Wilton
amused his friend with the detail of the adventures of the preceding
night.
"Sir John Fenwick!" exclaimed the Earl, as soon as Wilton came to the
events that succeeded the robbery--"he is a dangerous companion, Sir
John Fenwick! We know him to be disaffected, a nonjuror, and a plotter
of a dark and intriguing character. Who was the Duke he met with? Duke
of what?"
"On my word, I cannot tell you, sir," replied Wilton; "I did not hear
his name: they called his daughter Lady Laura."
"You are a strange young man, Wilton," replied the Earl; "there are
probably not two men in Europe who would have failed to inquire, if it
were no more than the name of this pretty girl you mention."
"If there had been the slightest probability of my ever meeting her
again," replied Wilton, "I most likely should have inquired. But my
story is not ended yet;" and he went on to detail what had occurred
during his ride that morning.
This seemed to strike and interest the Earl more than the rest; and he
immediately asked his young companion a vast number of questions, all
relating to the personal appearance of the gentleman in green, who had
been the comrade of his early ride.
After all these interrogatories had been answered, he mused for a minute
or two, and then observed, "No, no, it could not be. This personage in
green, Wilton, depend upon it, is some agent of Sir John Fenwick, and
the Jacobite party. He has got some intimation of your name and
situation, and has most likely seen you once or twice in Oxford, where,
I am sorry to say, there are too many such as himself. They have fixed
their eyes upon you, and, depend upon it, there will be many attempts to
gain your adherence to an unsuccessful and a desperate party. Be wise,
my dear Wilton, and shun all communication with such people. No one who
has not filled such a station as I have, can be aware of their manifold
arts."
Wilton promised to be upon his guard, and the conversation dropped
there. It had suggested, however, a new train of ideas to the mind of
the young gentleman--new, I mean, solely in point of combination, for
the ideas themselves referred to subjects long known and often thought
of. It appeared evident to him, that the question which the Earl had put
to himself in secret, when he heard of his conversation with the man in
green, was, "Can this be any one, who really knows the early history of
Wilton Brown?" and the question which Wilton in turn asked himself was,
"How is the Earl connected with that early history?"
Many painful doubts had often suggested themselves to the mind of Wilton
Brown in regard to that very subject; and those doubts themselves had
prevented him from pressing on the Earl questions which might have
brought forth the facts, but which, at the same time, he thought, might
pain that nobleman most bitterly, if his suspicions should prove
accurate.
The Earl himself had always carefully avoided the subject, and when any
accidental words led towards it, had taken evident pains to change the
conversation. What had occurred that morning, however, weighed upon
Wilton's mind, and he more than once asked himself the question--"Who
and what am I?"
There was a painful solution always ready at hand; but then again he
replied to his own suspicions--"The Earl certainly treats me like a
noble and generous friend, but not like a father." The conclusion of all
these thoughts was,--
"Even though I may give the Earl a moment's pain, I must ask him the
question before he goes to Italy;" and he watched his opportunity for
several days, without finding any means of introducing such a topic.
At length, one morning, when the Earl happened to be saying something
farther regarding the young man's future fate, Wilton seized the
opportunity, and replied, "With me, my dear lord, the future and the
past are alike equally dark and doubtful. I wish, indeed, that I might
be permitted to know a little of the latter, at least." "Do not let us
talk upon that subject at present, Wilton," said the Earl, somewhat
impatiently; "you will know it all soon enough. At one-and-twenty you
shall have all the information that can be given to you."
But few words more passed on that matter, and they only conveyed a
reiteration of the Earl's promise more distinctly. On the afternoon of
that day another person was added to the dinner table of the Earl of
Sunbury. Wilton knew not that anybody was coming, till he perceived that
the Earl waited for some guest; but at length the Earl of Byerdale was
announced, and a tall good-looking man, of some fifty years of age, or
perhaps less, entered the room, with that calm, slow, noiseless sort of
footstep, which generally accompanies a disposition either naturally or
habitually cautious. It is somewhat like the footstep of a cat over a
dewy lawn.
Between the statesman's brows was a deep-set wrinkle, which gave his
countenance a sullen and determined character, and the left-hand corner
of his mouth, as well as the marking line between the lips and the
cheek, were drawn sharply down, as if he were constantly in the presence
of somebody he disliked and rather scorned. Yet he strove frequently to
smile, made gay and very courteous speeches too, and said small pleasant
things with a peculiar grace. He was, indeed, a very gentlemanly and
courtly personage, and those who liked him were wont to declare, that it
was not his fault if his countenance was somewhat forbidding. By some
persons, indeed--as is frequently the case with people of weak and
subservient characters--the very sneer upon his lip, and the
authoritative frown upon his brow, were received as marks of dignity,
and signs of a high and powerful mind.
Such things, however, did not at all impose upon a man so thoroughly
acquainted with courts and cabinets as the Earl of Sunbury, and the
consequence was, that Lord Byerdale, with all his coolness,
self-confidence, and talent, felt himself second in the company of the
greater mind, and though he liked not the feeling, yet stretched his
courtesy and politeness farther than usual.
When he entered, he advanced towards the Earl with one of his most
bright and placid smiles, apologized for being a little later than his
time, was delighted to see the Earl looking rather better, and then
turned to see who was the other person in the room, in order to
apportion his civility accordingly. When he beheld Wilton Brown, the
young gentleman's fine person, his high and lofty look, and a certain
air of distinction and self-possession about him, though so young,
appeared to strike and puzzle him; but the Earl instantly introduced his
protege to the statesman, saying, "The young friend, my lord, of whom I
spoke to you, Mr. Wilton Brown."
Lord Byerdale was now as polite as he could be, assured the young
gentleman that all his small interest could command should be at his
service; and while he did so, he looked from his countenance to that of
the Earl, and from the Earl's to his, as if he were comparing them with
one another. Then, again, he glanced his eyes to a beautiful picture by
Kneller, of a lady dressed in a fanciful costume, which hung on one side
of the drawing-room.
Wilton remarked the expression of his face as he did so; and his own
thoughts, connecting that expression with foregone suspicions, rendered
it painful. Quitting the room for a moment before dinner was announced,
he retired to his own chamber, and looked for an instant in the glass.
He was instantly struck by an extraordinary resemblance, between himself
and the picture, which had never occurred to him before.
In the meanwhile, as soon as he had quitted the room, the Earl said, in
a calm, grave tone to his companion, pointing at the same time to the
picture which the other had been remarking, "The likeness is indeed very
striking, and might, perhaps, lead one to a suspicion which is not
correct."
"Oh, my dear lord," replied the courtier, "you must not think I meant
anything of the kind. I did remark a slight likeness, perhaps; but I was
admiring the beauty of the portrait. That is a Kneller, of course; none
could paint that but Kneller."
The Earl bowed his head and turned to the window. "It is the portrait,"
he said, "of one of my mother's family, a third or fourth cousin of my
own. Her father, Sir Harry Oswald, was obliged to fly, you know, for one
of those sad affairs in the reign of Charles the Second, and his estates
and effects were sold. I bought that picture at the time, with several
other things, as memorials of them, poor people."
"She must have been very handsome," said Lord Byerdale.
"The painter did her less than justice," replied the Earl, in the same
quiet tone: "she and her father died in France, within a short time of
each other; and there is certainly a strong likeness between that
portrait and Wilton.--There is no relationship, however."
Notwithstanding the quiet tone in which the Earl spoke, Lord Byerdale
kept his own opinion upon the subject, but dropped it as a matter of
conversation. The evening passed over as pleasantly as the illness of
the Earl would permit; and certainly, if Wilton Brown was not well
pleased with the Earl of Byerdale, it was not from any lack of
politeness on the part of that gentleman. That he felt no particular
inclination towards him is not to be denied; but nevertheless he was
grateful for his kindness, even of demeanour, and doubted not--such was
his inexperience of the world--that the Earl of Byerdale would always
treat him in the same manner.
After this day, which proved, in reality, an eventful one in the life of
Wilton Brown, about a week elapsed before the Earl set out for the
Continent. Wilton saw him on board, and dropped down the river with him;
and after his noble friend had quitted the shores of England, he turned
his steps again towards Oxford, without lingering at all in the capital.
It must be confessed, that he felt a much greater degree of loneliness,
than he had expected to experience on the departure of the Earl. He knew
now, for the first time, how much he had depended upon, and loved and
trusted, the only real friend that he ever remembered to have had. It is
true, that while the Earl was resident in London, and he principally in
Oxford, they saw but little of each other; but still it made a great
change, when several countries, some at peace and some at war with
England, lay between them, and when the cold melancholy sea stretched
its wide barrier to keep them asunder. He felt that he had none to
appeal to for advice or aid, when advice or aid should be wanting; that
the director of his youth was gone, and that he was left to win for
himself that dark experience of the world's ways, which never can be
learned, without paying the sad price of sorrow and disappointment.
Such were naturally his first feelings; and though the acuteness of them
wore away, the impression still remained whenever thought was turned in
that direction. He was soon cheered, however, by a letter from the Earl,
informing him of his having arrived safely in Piedmont; and shortly
after, the first quarter of his usual allowance was transmitted to him,
with a brief polite note from the Earl of Byerdale, in whose hands Lord
Sunbury seemed entirely to have placed him. Wilton acknowledged the note
immediately, and then applied himself to his studies again; but shortly
after, he was shocked by a rumour reaching him, that his kind friend had
been taken prisoner by the French. While he was making inquiries, as
diligently as was possible in that place, and was hesitating, as to
whether, in order to learn more, he should go to London or not, he
received a second epistle froth the Earl of Byerdale, couched in much
colder terms than his former communication, putting the question of the
Earl's capture beyond doubt, and at the same time stating, that as he
understood this circumstance was likely to stop the allowance which had
usually been made to Mr. Brown, he, the Earl of Byerdale, was anxious to
give him some employment as speedily as possible, although that
employment might not be such as he could wish to bestow. He begged him,
therefore, to come to London with all speed, to speak with him on the
subject, and ended, by assuring him that he was--what Wilton knew him
not to be--his very humble and most obedient servant.
On first reading the note, Wilton had almost formed a rash
resolution--had almost determined neither to go to London at all, nor to
repose upon the friendship and assistance of the Earl of Byerdale. But
recollecting his promise to his noble friend before his departure, he
resolved to endure anything rather than violate such an engagement; and
consequently wrote to say he would wait upon the Earl as soon as the
term was over, to the close of which there wanted but a week or two at
that time.
In that week or two, however, Wilton was destined to feel some of the
first inconveniences attending a sudden change in his finances.
Remembering, that, for the time at least, more than two-thirds of his
income was gone, he instantly began to contract all his expenses, and
suffered, before the end of the term, not a few of the painful followers
of comparative poverty.
He now felt, and felt bitterly, that the small sum which he received
from his college would not be sufficient to maintain him at the
University, even with the greatest economy; so that, besides his promise
to the Earl, to accept whatever Lord Byerdale should offer him, absolute
necessity seemed to force him as a dependent upon that nobleman, at
least till he could hear some news of his more generous friend.
It is an undoubted fact, that small annoyances are often more difficult
to bear than evils of greater magnitude; and Wilton felt all those
attendant upon his present situation most acutely. To appear differently
amongst his noble comrades at the University; to have no longer a horse,
to join them in their rides; to be obliged to sell the fine books he had
collected, and one or two small pictures by great masters which he had
bought; to be questioned and commiserated by the acquaintances who cared
the least for him;--all these were separate sources of great and acute
pain to a feeling and sensitive heart, not yet accustomed to adversity.
Wilton, however, had not been schooling his own mind in vain for the
last two years; and though he felt as much as any one, every privation,
yet he succeeded in bearing them all with calmness and fortitude, and
perhaps even curtailed every indulgence more sternly than was absolutely
necessary at the time, from a fear that the reluctance which he felt
might in any degree blind his eyes to that which was just and right.
A few instruments of music, a few books not absolutely required in his
studies, his implements for drawing, and all the little trinkets or
gifts of any kind which he had received from the Earl of Sunbury, were
the only things that he still preserved, which merited in any degree the
name of superfluities. With the sum obtained from the sale of the rest,
he discharged to the uttermost farthing all the expenses of the
preceding term, took his first degree with honour, and then set out upon
his journey to London.
No adventure attended him upon the way; and on the morning after his
arrival, he presented himself at an early hour at the house of the Earl
of Byerdale. After waiting for some time, he was received by that
nobleman with a cold and stately air; and having given him a hint, that
it would have been more respectful if he had come up immediately to
London, instead of waiting at Oxford till the end of the term, the Earl
proceeded to inform him of his views.
"Our noble and excellent friend, the Earl of Sunbury," said the
statesman, "was very anxious, Mr. Brown, that I should receive you as my
private secretary. Now, as I informed him, the gentleman whom I have
always employed cannot of course be removed from that situation without
cause; but, at the same time, what between my public and my private
business, I have need of greater assistance than he can render me. I
have need, in fact, of two private secretaries, and one will naturally
succeed the other, when, as will probably be the case, in about six
months the first is removed by appointment to a higher office. I will
give you till to-morrow to consider, whether the post I now offer you is
worth your acceptance. The salary we must make the same as the allowance
which has lately unfortunately ceased; and I am only sorry that I can
give you no further time for reflection, as I have already delayed three
weeks without deciding between various applicants, in order to give you
time to arrive in London."
Wilton replied not at the moment; for there was certainly not one word
said by the Earl which could give him any assignable cause of offence,
and yet he was grieved and offended. It was the tone, the manner, the
cold haughtiness of every look and gesture that pained him. He was not
moved by any boyish conceit; he was always willing, even in his own
mind, to offer deep respect to high rank, or high station, or high
talents. He would have been ready to own at once, that the Earl was far
superior to himself in all these particulars; but that which did annoy
him, as it might annoy any one, was to be made to feel the superiority,
at every word, by the language and demeanour of the Earl himself.
He retired, then, to the inn, where, for the first time during all his
many visits to London, he had taken up his residence; and there, pacing
up and down the room, he thought bitterly over Lord Byerdale's proposal.
The situation offered to him was far inferior to what he had been led to
expect; and he evidently saw, that the demeanour of the Earl himself
would render every circumstance connected with it painful, or at least
unpleasant. Yet, what was he to do? There were, indeed, a thousand other
ways of gaining his livelihood, at least till the Earl of Sunbury were
set free; but then, his promise that he would not refuse anything which
was offered by Lord Byerdale again came into his mind, and he
determined, with that resolute firmness which characterized him even at
an early age, to bear all, and to endure all; to keep his word with the
Earl to the letter, and to accept an office in the execution of which he
anticipated nothing but pain, mortification, and discomfort.
Such being the case, he thought it much better to write his resolutions
to the Earl, than to expose himself to more humiliation by speaking with
him on the subject again. He had suffered sufficiently in their last
conversation on that matter, and he felt that he should have enough to
endure in the execution of his duties. He wrote, indeed, as coldly as
the Earl had spoken; but he made no allusion to his disappointment, or
to any hopes of more elevated employment.
He expressed himself ready to commence his labours as soon as the Earl
thought right; and in the course of three days was fully established as
the second private secretary of the Earl.
The next three or four months of his life we shall pass over as briefly
as possible, for they were chequered by no incident of very great
interest. The Earl employed him daily, but how did he employ him?--As a
mere clerk. No public paper, no document of any importance, passed
through his hands. Letters on private business, the details of some
estates in Shropshire, copies of long and to him meaningless accounts,
and notes and memorandums, referring to affairs of very little interest,
were the occupations given to a man of active, energetic, and cultivated
mind, of eager aspirations, and a glowing fancy. It may be asked, how
did the Earl treat him, too?--As a clerk! and not as most men of
gentlemanly feeling would treat a clerk. Seldom any salutation marked
his entrance into the room, and cold, formal orders were all that he
received.
Wilton bore it all with admirable patience; he murmured not, otherwise
than in secret; but often when he returned to his own solitary room, in
the small lodging he had taken for himself in London, the heart within
his bosom felt like a newly-imprisoned bird, as if it would beat itself
to death against the bars that confined it.
Amidst all this, there was some consolation came. A letter arrived one
morning, after this had continued about two months, bearing one postmark
from Oxford, and another from Italy. It was from the Earl of Sunbury,
who was better, and wrote in high spirits. He had been arrested by the
French, and having been taken for a general officer of distinction, bad
been detained for several weeks. But he had been well treated, and set
at liberty, as soon as his real name and character were ascertained.
Only one of Wilton's letters, and that of an early date, had reached
him, so that he knew none of the occurrences which placed his young
friend in so painful a situation, but conceived him to be still at
Oxford, and still possessing the allowance which he had made him.
The moment he received these tidings, Wilton replied to it with a
feeling of joy and a hope of deliverance, which showed itself in every
line of the details he gave. This letter was more fortunate than the
others, and the Earl's answer was received within a month. That answer,
however, in some degree disappointed his young friend. Lord Sunbury
praised his conduct much for accepting the situation which had been
offered; but he tried to soothe him under the conduct of the Earl of
Byerdale, while he both blamed that conduct and censured the Earl in
severe terms, for having suffered the allowance which he had authorized
him to pay to drop in so sudden and unexpected a manner. To guard
against the recurrence of such a thing for the future, the Earl enclosed
an order on his steward for the sum, with directions that it should be
paid in preference to anything else whatsoever. At the same time,
however, he urged Wilton earnestly not to quit the Earl of Byerdale, but
to remain in the employment which he had accepted, at least till the
return of a more sincere friend from the Continent should afford the
prospect of some better and more agreeable occupation.
Wilton resolved to submit; and as he saw that the Earl was anxious upon
the subject, wrote to him immediately, to announce that such was the
case. Hope gave him patience; and the increased means at his command
afforded him the opportunity of resuming the habits of that station in
which he had always hitherto moved. In these respects, he was now
perfectly at his ease, for his habits were not expensive; and he could
indulge in all, to which his wishes led him, without those careful
thoughts which had been forced upon him by the sudden straitening of his
means. Such, then, was his situation when, towards the end of about
three months, a new change came over his fate, a new era began in the
history of his life.