eturn to his vomit again, or the sow to
refrain from wallowing in the mire."
"Savoury similes, my lord," said Lord Sherbrooke--"most worthy of
Solomon and your lordship. May I ask what it is you did demand then?"
"That you should assume a virtue if you had it not," replied Lord
Byerdale; "that you should put a certain cloak of decency over your
vices, and that you should at least be commonly courteous to the
person selected for your future wife: especially when I pointed out
to you the immense, the inconceivable advantages of such an alliance
not only to you but to me."
"Well, but, my dear father," said Lord Sherbrooke, "I will grant all
that you say. It is altogether my fault; I have behaved very
stupidly, very wildly, very rudely, very viciously. But there is no
reason that you should be so angry with the young lady, or with my
good lord duke."
"Ay, sir! think you so?" said the Earl--"you are mighty wise in your
own conceit. You have had your share, certainly; but I do not avenge
myself on my own son. They have had their share, however, too. Their
pride, their would-be importance, their insufferable arrogance,
which makes them think that kings or princes are not too good for
her--these have all had no light share; and if I live for six months
I will bring that pride down to the very lowest pitch. I will degrade
her till she thinks herself a servant wench."
Wilton certainly did feel his blood boil, but he knew that he had
neither any right nor any power to interfere; and he turned to some
papers that were upon the tables, and hid the expression which his
thoughts might communicate to his countenance, by apparent attention
to something else.
Some more words passed between the father and son, but they were few.
Lord Sherbrooke, upon the whole, behaved better than Wilton could
have expected. He neither treated the subject lightly and jocularly
as he was accustomed to do in most cases, nor bitterly and
sarcastically, which his father's evident want of principle in the
whole business gave him but too fair an opportunity of doing. He
acknowledged fairly and straight-forwardly his errors and his vices;
and all that he said in regard to the offence he had given his father
was, that he imagined he could not in honour suffer Lady Laura to
decide without letting her know the character at least of the man who
was proposed for her husband.
"Well, sir," replied his father, sharply, "you have convinced her of
your character very soon. Mine, she may be longer in