from writing, as it
was now the middle of the week, and his visit was to be renewed on
the Saturday following. A day passed by without the matter being any
farther cleared up; but on the Friday, when Wilton visited the Earl
at his own house, he found him reading his letters with a very cloudy
brow, which however, grew brighter soon after he appeared.
Wilton found that some painful conversation must have taken place
between the Earl and his son; for Lord Sherbrooke was seated in the
opposite chair, with one of those listless and indifferent looks upon
his countenance which he often assumed during grave discussions, to
cover, perhaps, deeper matter within his own breast. The Earl, though
a little irritable, seemed not angry; and after he had concluded the
reading of his letters, he said, "I must answer all these tiresome
epistles myself, Wilton: for the good people who wrote them have so
contrived it, in order, I suppose, to spare you, and make me work
myself. I shall not need your aid to-day, then; and, indeed, I do not
see why you should not go down to Somersbury at once, if you like it;
only be up at an early hour on Monday morning.--Sherbrooke, I wish
you would take yourself away: it makes me angry to see you twisting
that paper up into a thousand forms like a mountebank at a fair."
"Dear papa," replied Lord Sherbrooke, in a childish tone, "you ought
to have given me something better to do, then. If you had taught me
an honest trade, I should not have been so given to making penny
whistles and cutting cockades out of foolscap paper. Nay, don't look
so black, and mutter, 'Fool's cap paper, indeed!' between your teeth.
I'll go, I'll go," and he accordingly quitted the room.
"Wilton," said the Earl, as soon as his son was gone, "I have one
word more to say to you. When you are down at Somersbury, lose not
your opportunity--confer with the Duke about your marriage at once.
The political sky is darkening. No one can tell what another hour may
bring. Now leave me."
Wilton obeyed, and passed through the ante-room into the hall. The
moment he appeared there, however, Lord Sherbrooke darted out of the
opposite room and caught him by the arm, almost overturning the fat
porter in the way.
"Come hither, Wilton," he said, "come hither. I want to speak to you
a moment. I want to show you a present that I've got for you."
Wilton followed him, and to his surprise found lying upon the table a
pair of handsome spurs, which Lord Sherbrooke instantly put in his
hand