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