d
out to him; "I was wrong for not seeing that you were in jest, and
for not discovering at once that you had not consented. But how does
the Earl bear your refusal?"
"You are as wrong as ever, my dear Wilton," replied his friend, in a
more serious tone--"I have consented; for if I had not, it must have
made an irreparable breach between my father and myself, which you
well know I should not consider desirable--I must obey him sometimes,
you know, Wilton--He had pledged himself, too, that I should consent.
However, to set your mind at rest, I will tell you the loophole at
which I creep out. Her father, it seems, is not near so sanguine as
my father, in regard to his child's obedience, and he is, moreover,
an odd old gentleman, who has got into his head a strange antiquated
notion, that the inclinations of the people to be married have
something to do with such transactions. He therefore bargained, that
his consent should be dependent upon the young lady's approbation of
me when she sees me. In fact, I am bound to court, and she to be
courted. My father is bound that I shall marry her if she likes me,
her father is bound to give her to me if she likes to be given. Now
what I intend, Wilton, is, that she should not like me. So this very
evening you must come with me to the theatre, and there we shall see
her together, for I know where she is to be. To-morrow, I shall be
presented to her in form, and if she likes to have me, after all I
have to say to her, why it is her fault, for I will take care she
shall not have ignorance to plead in regard to my worshipful
character."
Wilton would fain have declined going to the theatre that night,
for, to say the truth, his heart was somewhat heavy; but Lord
Sherbrooke would take no denial, jokingly saying that he required
some support under the emotions and agitating circumstances which he
was about to endure. As soon as this was settled, Lord Sherbrooke
left him, agreeing to call for him in his carriage at the early hour
of a quarter before five o'clock; for such, however, were the more
rational times and seasons of our ancestors, that one could enjoy the
high intellectual treat of seeing a good play performed from
beginning to end, without either changing one's dinner hour, or going
with the certainty of indigestion and headache.

CHAPTER XIII.
Far more punctual than was usual with him. Lord Sherbrooke was at the
door of Wilton Brown exactly at the hour he had appointed; and,
getting into his carriage, they spee