For nearly ten days after the events which we have recorded in the
thirtieth chapter of this volume, and while the principal part of the
events were taking place of which we have just spoken, Lord
Sherbrooke remained absent from London. Knowing the circumstances in
which he was placed, Wilton felt anxious lest the delay of his return
might attract the attention of Lord Byerdale, and lead him to suspect
some evil. No suspicion, however, seemed to cross the mind of the
Earl, who was more accustomed than Wilton knew to find his son absent
without knowing where he was, or how employed.
At length, however, one morning Lord Sherbrooke made his appearance
again; and Wilton saw that he was on perfect good terms with his
father, who never quarrelled with his vices, or interfered with his
pursuits, when there was any veil of decency thrown over the one, or
the Earl's own views were not openly opposed by the other.
When Wilton entered the room where the father and son were seated at
breakfast, he found Lord Sherbrooke descanting learnedly upon the
fancy of damask table-cloths and napkins. He vowed that his father
was behind all the world, especially the world of France, and that it
was absolutely necessary, in order to make himself like other men of
station and fashion, that he should have his coronet and cipher
embroidered with gold in the corners, and his arms, in the same
manner, made conspicuous in the centre.
"And pray, my good son," said Lord Byerdale to him, "as your intimacy
with washerwomen is doubtless as great as your intimacy with
embroiderers and sempstresses, pray tell me how these gilded napkins
are to be washed?"
"Washed, my lord!" exclaimed Lord Sherbrooke in a tone of horror. "Do
you ever have your napkins washed? I did not know there was a
statesman in Europe whose fingers were so clean as to leave his
napkin in such a state that the stains could ever be taken out, after
he had once used it."
"I am afraid, my dear boy," replied Lord Byerdale, "that, if you had
not--as many men of sharp wit do--confounded a figure with a reality,
for the purpose of playing with both, and if there were in truth such
a thing as a moral napkin, what you say would be very true. But as
far as I can judge, my dear Sherbrooke, yours would not bear washing
any better than mine."
"It would be very presumptuous of me if it did, my dear father,"
replied Lord Sherbrooke, "and would argue that precept and example
had done nothing for me. Come, Wilton," he added, "come in to my
help, for here are father and son flinging so hard at each other,
that I shall get my teeth dashed down my throat before I've done. Now
tell me, did you ever see such a napkin as that in the house of a
nobleman, a gentleman, or a man of taste, three states, by the way,
seldom united in the same person?"
"Oh yes," replied Wilton, "often; and, to tell the truth, I think
them in much better taste than if they were all covered with gold."
"Surely not for the fingers of a statesman?" said Lord Sherbrooke.
"However, I abominate them; and I will instantly sit down and write
to a good friend of mine in France, to smuggle me over a few dozens
as a present to my respectable parent."
"A present which he will have to pay for," replied the Earl, somewhat
bitterly. "My dear Sherbrooke, your presents to other people cost
your father so much one way, that I beg you will make none to him,
and get him into the scrape the other way also."
"Do not be alarmed, my dear and most amiable parent," replied Lord
Sherbrooke: "the sweet discussion which we had some time ago, in
regard to debts and expenses, has had its effect: though it is a very
stupid plan of a son ever to let his father see that what he says has
any effect upon him at all; but I intend to contract my expenses."
"Intentions are very excellent things, my dear Sherbrooke," replied
his father. "But I am afraid we generally treat them as gardeners do
celery,--cut them down as soon as they sprout above ground."
"I have let mine grow, my lord, already," replied Sherbrooke. "I
last night gave an order for selling five of my horses, and now keep
only two."
"And how many mistresses, Sherbrooke?" demanded his father.
"None, my lord," replied Sherbrooke.
Not a change came over Lord Byerdale's countenance; but ringing the
bell which stood before him on the table, he said to the servant,
"Bring me the book marked 'Ephemeris' from my dressing-room, with a
pen and ink.--We will put that down," continued he; and when the
servant brought the book he wrote for a moment, reading aloud as he
did so, "Great annular eclipse of the sun--slight shock of an
earthquake felt in Cardigan--Sherbrooke talks of contracting his
expenses."
Wilton could not help smiling; but he believed and trusted, from all
that he knew of Lord Sherbrooke's situation, that new motives and
nobler ones than those which had ever influenced him before, produced
his present resolution, and would support him in it.
The business which he had to transact with the Earl proved very
brief; and after it was over, he sought Lord Sherbrooke again, with
feelings of real and deep interest in all that concerned him. He
found the young nobleman seated with his feet on the fire-place, and
a light book in his hand, sometimes letting it drop upon his knee,
and falling into a fit of thought, sometimes reading a few lines
attentively, sometimes gazing upon the page, evidently without
attending to its contents.
He suffered Wilton to be in the room several minutes without speaking
to him; and his friend, knowing the eccentricities that occasionally
took possession of him, was about to quit the room and leave him,
when he started up, threw the book into the midst of the fire, and
said, "Where are you going, Wilton? I will walk with you."
They issued forth together into the streets, and entering St. James's
Park, took their way round by the head of the decoy towards the side
of the river. While in the streets they both kept silence; but as
soon as they had passed the ever-moving crowds that swarm in the
thoroughfares of the great metropolis, Wilton began the conversation,
by inquiring eagerly after his friend's wife.
"She is nearly well," replied Lord Sherbrooke, coldly--"out of all
danger, at least. It is I that am sick, Wilton--sick at heart."
"I hope not cold at heart, Sherbrooke," replied Wilton, somewhat
pained by the tone in which the other spoke. "I should think such a
being as I saw with you might well warm you to constancy as well as
love. I hope, Sherbrooke, those feelings I beheld excited in you have
not, in this instance, evaporated as soon as in others."
Lord Sherbrooke turned and gazed in his friend's face for a moment
intently, even sternly, and then replied, "Love her, Wilton? I love
her better than anything in earth or in heaven! It is for her sake I
am sad; and yet she is so noble, that why should I fear to bear what
she will never shrink from."
"Nay, my dear Sherbrooke," replied Wilton. "The very resolution which
I see you have taken to shake yourself free of the trammels of your
debts ought to give you joy and confidence."
"Debts!" said Lord Sherbrooke--"debts! Do you think that it was debts
I had in view when I ordered my horses to be sold, and my carriages
to follow them, and kicked my Italian valet down stairs, and
dismissed my mistresses, and got rid of half-a-dozen other
blood-suckers?--My debts had nothing to do with it. By Heaven,
Wilton, if it had been for nothing but that, I would have spent
twenty thousand pounds more before the year was over; for when one
has a mind to enrage one's father, or go to gaol, or anything of that
kind, one had better do it for a large sum at once, in a gentleman-
like way. Oh no, I have other things in my head, Wilton, that you
know nothing about."
"I will not try to press into your confidence, Sherbrooke," replied
Wilton, "though I think in some things I have shown myself deserving
of it. But I need hardly tell you, that if I can serve you, I am
always most willing to do so, and you need but command me."
"Alas! my dear Wilton," replied Lord Sherbrooke--"this is a matter
in which you can do nothing. It is like one man trying to lift Paul's
church upon his back, and another coming up and offering to help
him. If I did what was right, and according to the best prescribed
practice, I should repay your kind wishes and offers by turning round
and cutting your throat."
"Nay, nay, my dear Sherbrooke," replied Wilton, "you are in one of
your misanthropical fits, and carry it even further than ordinary.
The world is bad enough, but not so bad as to present us with many
instances of people cutting each other's throats as a reward for
offers of service."
"You are very wise, Wilton," replied Lord Sherbrooke, "but
nevertheless you will find out that at present I am right and you are
wrong. However, let us talk of something else;" and he dashed off at
once into a wild gay strain of merriment, as unaccountable as the
grave and gloomy tone with which he had entered into the
conversation.
This morning's interview formed the type of Lord Sherbrooke's conduct
during the whole time of his stay in town. Continual fluctuations,
not only in his own spirits, but in his demeanour towards Wilton
himself; evidently showed his friend that he was agitated internally
by some great grief or terrible anxiety. Indeed, from time to time,
his words suffered it to appear, though not, perhaps, in the same
manner that the words of other men would have done in similar
circumstances. The only thing in which he seemed to take pleasure was
in attending the trials of the various conspirators; and when any of
them displayed any fear or want of firmness, he found therein a vast
source of merriment, and would come home laughing to Wilton, and
telling him how the beggarly wretch had showed his pale fright at the
block and axe.
"That villain Knightly," he said, one day, "who was as deep or deeper
in the plot than any of the others, and surveyed the ground for the
King's assassination, came into court the colour of an old woman's
green calamanco petticoat, gaping and trembling in every limb like a
boar's head in aspic jelly; and Heaven knows that I, who stood
looking and laughing at him, would have taken his place for a
dollar."
The perfect conviction that some very serious cause existed for this
despondency induced Wilton to deviate from the line of conduct he had
laid down for himself, and to urge Lord Sherbrooke at various times
to make him acquainted with the particulars of his situation, and to
give him the opportunity of assisting him if possible. Lord
Sherbrooke resisted pertinaciously. He sometimes answered his friend
kindly and feelingly, sometimes sullenly, sometimes angrily. But he
never yielded; and on one occasion he expressed himself so harshly
and ungratefully, that Wilton turned round and left him in the park.
They were on horseback at the time; and Lord Sherbrooke rode on a
little way, without taking the slightest notice of his companion's
departure. He then suddenly turned his horse, however, and galloping
after him at full speed, he held out his hand to him, saying,
"Wilton, you must either fight me or forgive me, for this state
must not last five minutes."
Wilton took his hand, replying, "I forgive you with all my heart,
Sherbrooke, and let me once more explain that my only view, my only
wish, is to be of assistance to you. I see, Sherbrooke, that you are
melancholy, wretched, anxious. I wish much to do anything that I can
to relieve that state of mind; and though I have no power, and very
little interest, yet there do occasionally occur opportunities to me,
which, as you have seen in the case of Lady Laura, afford me means of
doing things which might not be expected from my situation."
"You can neither help me, nor relieve me, nor assist me in the least,
Wilton," replied Lord Sherbrooke, "unless, indeed, you could entirely
change beings with me; unless you become me, and I become you. But it
cannot be, and I cannot even explain to you any part of my situation.
Therefore ask me nothing more upon the subject, and only be contented
that it is from no want of confidence in you that I hold my tongue."
"I hope and trust that it is not," replied Wilton; "but now that we
are speaking upon the subject, let me still say one word more. I can
conceive, from various reasons, that you may not think fit to confide
in me. I am a man of your own age, with less wit, less experience,
less knowledge of the world than you have--"
"You have more wit in your little finger, more knowledge of the
world, and experience--Heaven knows how you got it--more common
sense, ay, and uncommon sense too, than ever I shall have in my
life," replied Lord Sherbrooke, hastily.
"But hear me, Sherbrooke, hear me," said Wilton--"whatever may be the
cause, it does not suit you to take my advice and assistance. Now
there is one person in whom you may fully rely, who will never betray
your confidence, who will give you the very best advice, and I am
sure will, if it be in his power, render you still more important
assistance--I mean Lord Sunbury. He is now at Geneva, on his way
home, waiting for passports from France. In his last letter, he
mentioned you with much interest, and desired me--"
"Good God!" cried Lord Sherbrooke, "that I should ever create any
interest in anybody! However, Wilton, your suggestion is not a bad
one. Perhaps you have pointed out the only man in Europe in whom I
could confide with propriety, strange as that may seem. But in the
first place, I must consult with others.--Have you seen your friend
Green lately?"
"Not since the night before all that business in Kent," replied
Wilton. "I have sought to see him, but have never been able; and I
begin to apprehend that he must have taken a part in this conspiracy,
different from that I imagined, and has absented himself on that
account."
"Not he, not he!" replied Lord Sherbrooke; "I saw him but two days
ago. But who have we here, coming up on foot? One of the King's
servants, it would seem, and with him that cowardly rascal Arden.
They are snaking towards us, Wilton, doubtless not recognising us.
Suppose we take Master Arden, and horsewhip him out of the park."
"No, no," replied Wilton, "no such violent counsels for me, my dear
Sherbrooke. The man is punished more than I wished already."
The two men directed their course at once towards Lord Sherbrooke and
his companion; and as they approached, the King's servant advanced
before the other, and with a respectful bow addressed Wilton, saying,
"I have the King's commands, sir, to require your presence at
Kensington immediately. I was even now about to seek you in St.
James's Square, and then at Whitehall. But I presume Mr. Arden has
informed me rightly, that you are that Mr. Brown who is private
secretary to Lord Byerdale."
"The same, sir," replied Wilton. "Am I to present myself to his
majesty in my riding dress?"
"His majesty's commands were for your immediate attendance, sir,"
replied the servant: "the council must be over by this time, and then
he expects you."
"Then I will lose no time," replied Wilton, "but ride to the palace
at once."
"What can be the meaning of this, Wilton?" said Lord Sherbrooke, as
he put his horse into a quick pace, to keep up with that of his
friend.
"On my word, I cannot tell," replied Wilton. "I trust for no evil,
though I know not that any good can be in store."
"Well, I will leave you at the palace gates," replied Lord
Sherbrooke, "and ride about in the neighbourhood till I see you come
out. I hope it will not be in custody."
"I trust not, indeed," replied Wilton. "I know of no good reason why
it should be so: but in these days of suspicion, and I must say of
guilt and treason also, no one can tell who may be the next person
destined for abode in Newgate."
In such speculations the two young gentlemen continued till they
reached the palace, where Lord Sherbrooke turned and left his friend;
and Wilton, if the truth must be confessed, with an anxious and
beating heart, applied to the porter for admittance.
The moment that his name was given, he was led by a page to a small
waiting room on the ground floor. The carriages which had surrounded
the entrance seemed to indicate that the council was not yet over;
but in a few minutes after, the sound of many feet and of various
people talking was heard in the neighbouring passage; and then came
the roll of carriages followed by a dead silence. To the mind of
Wilton the silence continued for an exceedingly long time; but at
length a voice was heard, apparently at some distance, pronouncing a
name indistinctly; but Wilton imagined that it sounded like his own
name.
The next instant, another voice took it up, and it was now
distinctly, "Mr. Brown to the King." The door then opened, and a page
appeared, saying, "Mr. Brown, the King commands your presence."