During the greater part of the next day Wilton did not set eyes upon
Lord Sherbrooke. The Earl of Byerdale, however, was peculiarly
courteous and polite to his young secretary. There was much business,
Earl was obliged to be very rapid in all his movements; but the terms
in which he gave his directions were gentle and placable, and some
letters received in the course of the day from Ireland seemed to
please him well. He hinted even in a mysterious tone to Wilton that
he had something of importance to say to him, but that he had not time
to say it at the moment, and he ended by asking his secretary to dine
at his house on the following day, when he said the Duke of Gaveston
and Lady Laura were to be present, with a large party.
He went out about three o'clock: and Wilton had not long returned to
his lodgings when Lord Sherbrooke joined him, and insisted on his
accompanying him on horseback for a ride into the country.
Wilton was at that moment hesitating as to whether he should or
should not go to the rendezvous given him by his strange
acquaintance, Green. He had certainly left the theatre on the
preceding night determined so to do; for the various feelings which
at this time agitated his heart had changed the anxiety which he had
always felt to know the circumstances of his birth and family into a
burning thirst, which would have led him almost anywhere for
satisfaction.
A night's thought, however--for we cannot say that he slept--had
again revived all the doubts which had before prevented him from
seeking the stranger, and had once more displayed before his eyes all
the many reasons which in those days existed for holding no
communication with persons whose characters were not known; or were
in the least degree suspicious. Thus before Lord Sherbrooke joined
him, he had fully convinced himself that the thing which he had so
great an inclination to do was foolish, imprudent, and wrong. He had
seen the man in a situation which left scarcely a doubt of his
pursuits; he had seen him in close communication with a gentleman
principally known as a virulent and unscrupulous enemy of the
reigning dynasty; and he had not one cause for thinking well of him,
except a certain off-hand frankness of manner which might easily be
assumed.
All this he had repeated to himself twenty times, but yet he felt a
strong inclination to go, when Lord Sherbrooke's sudden appearance,
and invitation to ride out with him, cast an additional weight into
the opposite scale, and determined his conduct at once. It is
wonderful, indeed, how often those important acts, in regard to which
we have hesitated and weighed every point with anxious deliberation,
are ultimately determined by the most minute and trifling
circumstance, totally unconnected with the thing itself. The truth
is, under such circumstances we are like a man weighing fine gold
dust, who does it to such a nicety that a hair falling into the scale
turns it one way or the other.
In the present instance, our friend Wilton was not unwilling that
something should come in aid of his better judgment; and ordering his
horse he was soon beyond the precincts of London, and riding through
the beautiful fields which at that time extended over ground where
courtiers and ministers have now established their town dwellings.
From the whole demeanour of his companion, from the wild and excited
spirits which he displayed, from the bursts of merriment to which he
gave way, apparently without a sufficient cause, Wilton evidently saw
that there was either some wild scheme working in Lord Sherbrooke's
brain, or the knowledge of some happy event gladdening his heart.
What it was, however, he could not divine, and the young nobleman was
evidently determined on no account to explain. He laughed and jested
with Wilton in regard to the gravity which he could not conquer,
declared that he was the dullest companion that ever had been seen,
and vowed that there could be no more stupid and tiresome companion
for a long ride than a man in love, unless, indeed, it were a lame
horse.
"Indeed, my dear Sherbrooke," replied Wilton, "you should prove, in
the first place, that I am in love, which I can assure you is not the
case, before you attempt to attribute my being grave to that reason.
My very situation in life, and a thousand things connected therewith,
are surely enough to make me sad at times."
"Why, what is there sad in your situation, my dear Wilton?" demanded
Lord Sherbrooke, in the same tone of raillery: "here are you a
wealthy young man--ay, wealthy, Wilton. Have you not yourself told me
that your income exceeds your expenses; while I, on the other hand,
have no income at all, and expenses in abundance? Well, I say you are
here a wealthy young man, with the best prospects in the world,
destined some day to be prime minister for aught I know."
"And who, at this present moment," interrupted Wilton, "has not a
relation upon earth that he knows of; who has never enjoyed a
father's care or a mother's tenderness; who can only guess that his
birth was disgraceful to her whom man's heart is naturally bound to
reverence, without knowing who or what was his father, or who even
was the mother by whose shame he was brought into being."
Lord Sherbrooke was immediately grave, for he saw that Wilton was
hurt; and he replied frankly and kindly, "I beg your pardon, my dear
Wilton--I did not intend to pain you, and had not the slightest idea
of how you were circumstanced. To tell the truth, I took it for
granted that you were the son of good Lord Sunbury; and thought that
you were, of course, well aware of all the particulars."
"Of none, Sherbrooke, of none," replied Wilton. "Suspicions may have
crossed my mind that it is as you supposed, but then many other things
tend to make me believe that such is not the case. At all events, one
thing is clear--I have no family, no kindred; or if I have
relations, they are ashamed of the tie that binds me to them, and
voluntarily disown it."
"Pshaw! Wilton," exclaimed Lord Sherbrooke--"family! What matters a
family? Make yourself one, Wilton. The best of us can but trace his
lineage back to some black-bearded Northman, or yellow-haired Saxon,
no better than a savage of some cannibal island of the South Sea--a
fellow who tore his roast meat with unwashed fingers, and never knew
the luxury of a clean shirt. Make a family for yourself, I say; and
let the hundredth generation down, if the world last so long, boast
that the head of the house was a gentleman, and wore gold lace on his
coat."
Wilton smiled, saying, "I fear the prospect of progeny, Sherbrooke,
will never be held as an equivalent for the retrospect of ancestors."
"An axiom worthy of Aristotle!" exclaimed Lord Sherbrooke; "but here
we are, my dear Wilton," he continued, pulling up his horse at the
gates of a house enclosed within walls, situated about a quarter of a
mile beyond Chelsea, and somewhat more from the house and grounds
belonging at that time to the celebrated Earl of Peterborough.
"But what do you intend to do here?" exclaimed Wilton, at this pause.
"Oh! nothing but make a call," replied his companion.
"Shall I ride on, or wait till you come back?" demanded Wilton.
"Oh, no!--come in, come in," said Lord Sherbrooke--"I shall not be
long, and I'll introduce you, if you are not acquainted."
While he was speaking he had rung the bell, and his own two servants
with Wilton's rode up to take the horses. Almost at the same moment
a porter threw open the gates, and to his companion's surprise, Lord
Sherbrooke asked for the Duke of Gaveston. The servant answered that
the Duke was out, but that his young lady was at home; and thus the
hero of our tale found himself suddenly, and even most unwillingly,
brought to the dwelling of one whose society he certainly liked
better than that of any one else on earth.
Lord Sherbrooke looked in his face with a glance of malicious
pleasure; and then, as nothing on earth ever stopped him in anything
that he chose to do or say, he burst forth into a gay peal of
laughter at the surprise which he saw depicted on the countenance of
his friend.
"Take the horses," he continued, turning to his own servants--"take
the horses round to the Green Dragon, in the lane behind the house,
wet their noses, and give them a book to read till we come to them.
Come, Wilton, come! It is quite fitting," he said, in a lower tone,
"that in execution of my plan I should establish a character for
insanity in the house. Now that fat porter with the mulberry nose
will go and report to the kitchen-maid that I order my horses a book
to read, and they will decide that I am mad in a minute. The news
will fly from kitchen-maid to cook, and from cook to housekeeper, and
from housekeeper to lady's maid, and from lady's maid to lady. There
will be nothing else talked of in the house but my madness; and when
they come to add madness to badness they will surely give me up, if
they haven't a mind to add sadness to madness likewise."
While he spoke, they were following a sort of groom of the chambers,
who, after looking into one of the rooms on the ground-floor, turned
to Lord Sherbrooke, saying, in a sweet tone,
"Lady Laura is walking in the gardens I see, my lord. I will show
your lordship the way."
"So you have the honour of knowing who my lordship is, Mr. Montgomery
Styles?" said Lord Sherbrooke, looking him full in the face.
"I beg your lordship's pardon," said the man, in the same mincing
manner--"my name is not Montgomery Styles--my name is Josiah
Perkins."
"Well, Jos. Perkins," said the young nobleman, "I PRAE SEQUOR, which
means, get on as fast as you can, Mr. Perkins, and I'll come after;
though you may tell me as you go, how it was you discovered my
lordliness."
"Oh! by your look, my lord: I should have discovered it at once,"
replied the groom of the chambers; "but his grace told me that your
lordship was likely to call."
"Oh, ho!" cried Lord Sherbrooke, with a laughing look to Wilton. But
the next moment the servant threw open a glass door, and they issued
forth into the gardens, which were very beautiful, and extended down
to the river, filled with fine old trees, and spread out in soft
green terraces and gravel walks. Lord Sherbrooke gazed round at
first, with a look of criticising inquiry, upon the gardens; but the
eyes of Wilton had fixed immediately upon the figure of a lady who
was walking slowly along on the terrace, some way beneath them, at
the very edge of the river. She did not remark the opening of the
glass door in the centre of the house, which was at the distance of
about two hundred yards from the spot where she was at the time; but
continued her walk with her eyes bent upon the ground, and one hand
playing negligently with the bracelet which encircled the wrist of
the other arm. Her thoughts were evidently deeply busied with matters
of importance, at least to herself. She was walking slowly, as we
have said--a thing that none but a high-bred woman can do with
grace--and though the great beauty of her figure was, in some degree,
hidden by the costume of the day, yet nothing could render its easy,
gliding motion aught but exquisitely graceful, and (if I may use a
far-fetched term, but, perhaps, the only one that will express my
meaning clearly,) musical to the eye. It must not be understood that,
though she was walking slowly, the grace with which she did so had
anything of the cold and stately air which those who assume it call
dignity. Oh no! it was all easy: quiet, but full of youth, and
health, and life it was the mere movement of a form, perfect in the
symmetry of every limb, under the will of a spirit harmonizing
entirely with the fair frame that contained it. She walked slowly
because she was full of deep thought; but no one who beheld her could
doubt that bounding joy might in its turn call forth as much grace in
that young form as the calmer mood now displayed.
Wilton turned his eyes from the lady to his young companion, and he
saw that he was now gazing at her too, and that not a little
admiration was painted in his countenance. Wilton was painfully
situated, and felt all the awkwardness of the position in which Lord
Sherbrooke had placed him fully. Yet how could he act? he asked
himself--what means of escape did there exist? What was the motive,
too? what the intentions of Lord Sherbrooke? for what purposes had he
brought him there? in what situation might he place him next?
All these, and many another question, he asked his own heart as they
advanced across the green slopes and little terraces towards that in
which the young lady "walked in beauty." There was no means for him
to escape, however; and though he never knew from one moment to
another what would be the conduct of Lord Sherbrooke, he was obliged
to go on, and take his chance of what that conduct might be.
When they were about fifty yards from Lady Laura, she turned at the
end of the walk, and then, for the first time, saw them as they
approached; but if the expression of her countenance might be
believed, she saw them with no great pleasure. An expression of
anxiety, nay, of pain, came into her beautiful eyes; and as they were
turned both upon Lord Sherbrooke and Wilton, the latter came in for
his share also of that vexed look.
"You see, Wilton," said Lord Sherbrooke in a low voice, "how angry
she is to behold you here. It was for that I brought you. I want to
tease her in all possible ways," and without waiting for any reply,
he hurried his pace, and advanced towards the lady.
She received him with marked coldness and distance of manner; but now
the difference in her demeanour towards him and towards Wilton was
strongly marked--not that the smile with which she greeted the latter
when he came up was anything but very faint, yet her lip did relax
into a smile.
The colour, too, came up a little into her cheek; and her manner was
a little agitated. In short--though without openly expressing any
very great pleasure at seeing him--it was evident that she was not
displeased; and the secret of the slight degree of embarrassment
which she displayed was, that for the first moment or so after she
saw him, she thought of her mistake of the night before, and of her
feelings while she had imagined that the Duke had pointed him out to
her as one who, if she thought fit, might be her future husband.
The lady soon conquered the momentary agitation, however; and the
conversation went on, principally maintained, of course, between
herself and Lord Sherbrooke. Wilton would have given worlds indeed to
have escaped, but there was no possibility of so doing, Lady Laura
signified no intention of returning to the house; and they continued
walking up and down the broad gravelled terrace, which of all things
on earth affords the least opportunity for lingering behind, or
escaping the embarrassment of being the one too many.
Wilton had too much good taste to suffer his annoyance to appear; and
though he strove to avoid taking any greater part in the conversation
than he could help, still when he joined in, what he did say was said
with ease and grace. Lord Sherbrooke forced him, indeed, to speak
more than he was inclined, and, to Lady Laura, there seemed a strange
contrast between the thoughts and language of the two. The young
nobleman's conversation was light, witty, poignant, and irregular. It
was like the flowing of a shallow stream amongst bright pebbles which
it causes to sparkle, and from which it receives in return a thousand
various shades and tints, but without depth or vigour; while that of
Wilton was stronger, more profound, more vigorous both in thought and
expression, and was like a deeper river flowing on without so much
sunshine and light, but clear, deep, and powerful, and not unmusical
either, between its banks.
It was towards the latter that Lady Laura turned and listened, though
she could not but smile at many of the gay sallies of him who walked
on the other side: but it seemed as if the conversation of Lord
Sherbrooke rested in the ear, while that of Wilton sunk into the
heart.
It would not be very interesting, even if we had times to detail all
that took place upon that occasion; but it must be confessed that,
though once or twice Lord Sherbrooke felt inclined to put forth all
his powers of pleasing, out of pique at the marked preference which
Lady Laura showed for Wilton, he in no degree concealed the worst
points of his character. He said nothing, indeed, which could offend
in mere expression: but every now and then he suffered some few words
to escape him, which clearly announced that the ties of morality and
religion were in no degree recognised by him amongst the principles
by which he intended to guide his actions. He even forced the
conversation into channels which afforded an opportunity of
expressing opinions of worse than a dangerous character. Constancy,
he said, was all very well for a turtledove, or an old man of seventy
with a young wife; and as for religion, there were certain people
paid for having it, and he should not trouble himself to have any
unless he were paid likewise. This was not, indeed, all said at once,
nor in such distinct terms as we have here used, but still the
meaning was the same; and whether expressed in a jesting or more
serious manner, that meaning could not be misunderstood.
Wilton looked grave and sad when he heard such things said to a pure
and high-minded girl; and Lady Laura herself turned a little pale, and
cast her eyes down upon the ground without reply.
At length, after this had gone on for some time, Lord Sherbrooke
inquired for Lady Mary Fenwick, saying that he had hoped to see her
there, and to inquire after her health.
"Oh, she is here still," replied Lady Laura; "but she complained of
headache this morning, and is sitting in the little library. I do not
know whether she would be inclined to see any one or not."
"Oh, she will see me, beyond all doubt," exclaimed Lord
Sherbrooke--"no lady ever refuses to see me. Besides, her
great-grandmother, on old Lady Carlisle's side, was my great-
grandfather's forty-fifth cousin; so that we are relations. I will go
and find her out. Stay you, Wilton, and console Lady Laura, till I
come back again. I shall not be five minutes."
Thus saying, away he darted, leaving Lady Laura and Wilton alone in
the middle of the walk. The lady seemed to hesitate for a moment what
she should do, whether she should follow to the house or not, and she
paused for an instant in the walk; but inclination, if the truth must
be said, got the better of what she might consider strictly decorous,
and after that momentary pause, she walked on with Wilton by her
side. In saying that it was inclination determined her conduct, I did
not mean to say that it was solely the inclination to walk and
converse with Wilton Brown, though that had some share in the
business, but there was besides, an inclination to be freed from the
presence of Lord Sherbrooke, who had succeeded to a miracle in making
her thoroughly disgusted with him.
As they walked on, there was a certain degree of embarrassment hung
over both Wilton and Laura; both felt, perhaps, that they could be
very happy in each other's society, but both felt afraid of being too
happy. With Wilton, there were a thousand causes to produce that
slight embarrassment, and with Lady Laura several also. But one, and
a very principal cause was, that there was something which she longed
exceedingly to say, and yet doubted whether she ought to say it.
It does not unfrequently happen that a person of the highest rank and
station, possessing every quality to secure friendship, with wealth
and every gift of fortune at command, surrounded by numerous
acquaintances, and mingling with a wide society, is nevertheless
totally alone--alone in spirit and in heart--alone in thought and
mind. Such was the case with Lady Laura. It is true she had yet but
very little experience of the world, and her search for a congenial
spirit had not been carried far or prosecuted long; but she was one
of those who had learned to think and to feel early. Her mother, who
had died three years before, had taught her to do so, not alone for
her own sake, but also for that of her father; for the Duchess had
early felt the conviction that her own life would be brief, and knew
that the mind and character of her daughter must have a great effect
upon the Duke, whom she loved much, though she could not venerate
very highly.
With a heart, then, full of deep and pure feelings, with a mind not
only originally bright and strong, not only highly cultivated and
stored with fine tastes, but highly directed and fortified with
strong principles, with an enthusiastic love of everything that was
beautiful and graceful, generous, noble, and dignified--it is not to
be wondered at that, in the wide society of the capital, or amongst
all the acquaintances who thronged her father's house, Lady Laura had
seen no spirit congenial to her own, no heart with the same feelings,
no mind with the same objects. In every one she had met with, there
had still been some apparent weakness, some worldliness, some
selfishness; there had been coldness, or apathy, or want of
principle, or want of feeling; and the bright enthusiasms of her
young nature had been confined to the tabernacle of her own heart.
She had seen Wilton Brown but seldom, it is true, but nevertheless
she felt differently towards him and other people. There were
several causes which had produced this; and perhaps, as Lady Laura
was not absolutely an angel, his personal appearance might have
something to do with it, though less than might be supposed. His fine
person, his noble carriage, his bright and intelligent countenance,
the rapid variety of its expressions, the dignified character of the
predominant one to which it always returned, after those more
transient had passed away--all gave the idea of there being a high
heart and mind beneath. In the next place, Wilton had, as we have
told, commenced his acquaintance with her by an act of personal
service, performed with gallantry, skill, and decision, at the risk
of his own life. In the third place, in all his conversation, as far
as she had ever known or remarked, there were those small casual
traits of good feelings, fine tastes, and strong principles,
expressed sometimes by a single word, sometimes by a look or gesture,
which are a thousand-fold more convincing, in regard to the real
character of the person, than the most laboured harangue, or essay,
or declaration.
Thus it was that Laura hoped, and fancied, and believed, she had now
seen one person upon earth whose feelings, thoughts, and character
might assimilate with her own. Pray let the reader understand, that I
do not mean to say Laura was in love with Wilton; but she did believe
that he was one of those for whose eyes she might draw away a part of
that customary veil with which all people hide the shrine of their
deeper feelings from the sight of the coarse multitude.
There was something, then, as we have seen, that she wished to
say--there was something that she believed she might say, without
risk or wrong. But yet she hesitated; and she and Wilton went on
nearly to the end of the walk in perfect silence. At length she cast
a timid glance, first towards the house where Lord Sherbrooke was
seen just entering one of the rooms from the upper terrace, and then
to the face of Wilton Brown, whose eye chanced at that moment to be
upon her with a look of inquiry. The look gave her courage, and she
said--
"I am going to say a very odd thing, Mr. Brown, I believe; but your
great intimacy with Lord Sherbrooke puzzles me. He told my father
last night that you were his dearest and most intimate friend. I
always thought that friendship must proceed from a similarity of
feelings and pursuits, and I am sure, from what I have heard you say,
at least I think I may be sure, that you entertain ideas the most
opposite to those with which he has just pained us."
Wilton smiled somewhat sadly; but he did not dare deny that such
opinions were Lord Sherbrooke's real ones; for his well-known conduct
was too much in accordance with them.
"Would to Heaven, dear lady," he said, "that Sherbrooke would permit
me to be as much his friend as I might be! I must not deny that he
has many faults--faults, I am sure, of education and habit alone, for
his heart is noble, honourable, and high"
"Nay," cried Lady Laura--"could a noble or an honourable heart
entertain such sentiments as he has just expressed?"
"You do not know him, nor understand him yet, Lady Laura," replied
Wilton. "Most men strive to make themselves appear better than they
really are: Sherbrooke labours to make himself appear worse--not
alone, Lady Laura, in his language--not alone in his account of
himself, but even by his very actions. I am confident that he has
committed more than one folly, for the sole purpose, if his motives
were thoroughly sifted and investigated, of establishing a bad
reputation."
"What a sad vanity!" exclaimed Lady Laura. "On such a man no reliance
can be placed. But his plain declaration, a few minutes ago, is quite
sufficient to mark his character, I mean his declaration, that he
considers no vows taken to a woman at all binding on a man. Is that
the principle of an honourable heart, Mr. Brown?"
Wilton was silent for a moment, but Lady Laura evidently looked for a
reply; and he answered at length, "No, it is not, Lady Laura; but I
fully believe, ere taking any such vows, Sherbrooke would openly
acknowledge his view of them, and, having done so, would look upon
them as mere empty air."
Lady Laura laughed, evidently applying her companion's words to her
own situation with Lord Sherbrooke; and Wilton, unwilling that one
word from his lips should have a tendency to thwart the purposes of
the Earl of Byerdale, in a matter where he had no right to interfere,
hastened to add, "Let me assure you, Lady Laura, however, at the same
time that I make this acknowledgment with regard to Sherbrooke, that
I am fully convinced, if he were to pledge his word of honour to keep
those vows, he would die rather than violate that pledge."
"That is to say," replied Lady Laura, somewhat bitterly, "that he has
erected an idol whose oracles he can interpret as he will, and calls
it honour, denying that there is any other God. But let us speak of
it no more, Mr. Brown; these things make one sad."
Wilton was glad to speak of something else; for he felt himself bound
by every tie to say all that he could in favour of Lord Sherbrooke;
and yet he could not find in his heart to aid, in the slightest
degree, in forwarding a scheme which could end in nothing but misery
to the sweet and innocent girl beside him. He changed the topic at
once, then, and exerted himself to draw her mind away from the matter
on which they had just been speaking.
Nevertheless, that subject, while they went on, remained in the mind
of each; and Lady Laura might have discovered--if she had been at
all apprehensive of her own feelings--that it is a dangerous thing to
do as she had done, and raise, for any eye, even a corner of that
veil which bides the heart, unless we are inclined to raise it
altogether. Her subsequent conversation with Wilton took its tone
throughout, entirely from what had gone before. Without knowing it,
or rather, we should say, without perceiving it, they suffered it to
be mingled with deep feelings; shadowed forth, perhaps, more than
actually expressed. A softness, too, came over it--we insist not,
though, perhaps, we might, call it a tenderness the ceremonious terms
were soon dropped; and because the speakers would have been obliged
to use those ceremonious terms, if they had spoken each other's
names, they seemed by mutual consent to forget each other's names,
and never spoke them at all. Lady Laura did not address him as Mr.
Brown, and Wilton uttered not the words, "Lady Laura." From time to
time, too, she gazed up in his face, to see if he understood what she
meant but could not fully express; and he, while he poured forth any
of the deep thoughts long treasured in his own bosom, looked often
earnestly into her countenance, to discover by the expression the
effect produced on her mind.
Lord Sherbrooke was absent for more than half an hour; and, during
that half hour, Wilton and the lady had gone farther on the journey
they were taking than ever they had gone yet.--What journey?
Cannot you divine, reader? When Wilton entered those gardens, we
might boldly say, as we did say, that he was not in love. When he
left them, we should have hesitated. He would have hesitated
himself! Was not that going far upon a journey?
However, Lord Sherbrooke at length joined them; and after a moment
more of cold and ceremonious leave-taking with Lady Laura, he turned,
and, accompanied by Wilton, left the house.
Lady Laura remained upon the terrace, walking more rapidly than
before, and with her eyes bent upon the ground. Two minutes brought
Wilton to the gates of the court-yard; but oh, in those two minutes,
how his heart smote him, and how his brain reeled!
"Shall I run for the horses, my lord?" cried the groom of the
chambers--"Shall I go for the horses, my lord?" exclaimed one of the
running footmen who was loitering in the hall.
"No," said Lord Sherbrooke--"we will walk and fetch them," and taking
Wilton's arm, he sauntered quietly on from the house.
"Sherbrooke, Sherbrooke, this is all very wrong," said Wilton, the
moment they were out of hearing.
"Very wrong, Solon!" exclaimed Lord Sherbrooke--"what do you mean?
Heavens and earth, what a perverse generation it is! When I expected
to be thanked over and over again for the kindest possible act, to be
told that it is all very wrong! You ungrateful villain! I declare I
have a great mind to turn round and draw my sword upon you, and cut
your throat out of pure friendship. Very wrong, say you?"
"Ay, very wrong, Sherbrooke," replied Wilton. "You have placed me in
an unpleasant and dangerous situation, and without giving me notice
or a choice, have made me co-operate in doing what I do not think
right."
"Pshaw!" cried Lord Sherbrooke--"Pshaw! At your heart, my dear
Wilton, you are very much obliged to me; and if you are not the most
ungrateful and the most foolish of all men upon earth, you will take
the goods the gods provide you, and make the best use of time and
opportunity."
"All I can say, Sherbrooke," replied Wilton, "is, that I shall never
return to that house again, except for a formal visit to the Duke."
"Fine resolutions speedily broken!" exclaimed Lord Sherbrooke: and he
was right.