l-merited scorn,
and surprise and curiosity in regard to the hopes that were held out
to him, and despairing rejection of those hopes, even while the voice
of the never-dying prophetess of blessings was whispering in his heart
that those very hopes might be true--was all that Wilton could do at
that moment.
The country, however, was sooner reached in those days than it is at
present; and after leaving Whitehall, he was in a few minutes in the
sweet fields, with their shady rows of tall elms, which lay to the
westward of St. James's-street. Here he wandered on, musing, as we
have said, for several hours, with his arms crossed upon his chest,
and his eyes scanning the ground. At length he turned his steps
homeward, thinking that it was a weakness thus to give way; but still as
he went, the same feelings and the same thoughts pursued him; and
that black care, which in the days of the Latin poet sat behind the
horseman, was his companion, also, by the way.
On reaching his lodgings, the door was opened by the servant of the
house, and he was passing on, but the girl stopped him,
saying--"There is a lady, sir, up stairs, who has been waiting for
you near an hour."
"A lady!" exclaimed Wilton, with no slight surprise; for though such
a visit in those days might have passed without scandal, he knew no
one who was likely to call upon him, unless, indeed, it were the Lady
Helen Oswald, whose interest in him seemed to be of such a kind as
might well produce a visit upon any extraordinary occasion.
He mounted the stairs with a rapid step, however, for he knew that it
must be something out of the common course of events which had
brought her, and opening the door quickly, entered his small
sitting-room. But what was his surprise to behold, seated on the
opposite side of the room, and watching eagerly the door, none other
but Lady Laura Gaveston herself.
Astonishment certainly was the first sensation, but joy was the
second; and advancing quickly to her, he took her in his arms and
held her to his heart, and kissed her cheek again and again. For
several moments he asked no question. It was sufficient that she was
there, pressed to his bosom, returning his affection, and whatever
might be the consequences, for the tine at least he was happy. The joy
that was in his countenance--the tenderness--the deep devoted love of
his whole manner--gave as much happiness to Laura herself as she was
capable of receiving from anything at that moment.
Her thoughts, also, for a mi