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 cir