e 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 li