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 Digitized by the Internet Arciiive 
 
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 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/kingshighwaynove01jame
 
 THE 
 
 KING'S HIGHWAY 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 HISTORY OF CHARLEMAGNE, 
 
 By G. p. R. JAMES, Esq. 
 
 " Out of the mass of contradictions and difficulties that 
 lay on the very thresiiold of his task, Mr. James has produced 
 a luminous and impartial work, which will confer lasting 
 honour on his name." — Atlas. 
 
 " It will be difficult to compress into a small space the 
 sentiments with which we have been inspired, during our 
 perusal of this volume, or to give an adequate idea of the 
 impression it has produced upon our mind ; we rise from it 
 as from the contemplation of a magnificent picture, and our 
 admiration is divided between the suljj'ect itself and the artist, 
 whose talent has been employed in the delineation." — Don- 
 caster Gazette. 
 
 " It is but justice to Mr. James when we observe, that he 
 takes no position without most carefully giving his reasons of 
 preference, and referring to the various authorities. His style 
 is at once animated and clear." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 " It is filled to overflowing with erudition, the facts are 
 carefully sifted and correctly stated, and the language is 
 moderate and suited to the dignity of history. This is great 
 praise, and Mr. James must feel it to be so. We go further, 
 and say that his work displays talent of a very high order, and 
 that it supplies an important desideratum in English litera- 
 ture." — AthencEum. 
 
 " Our admiration of the style in which Mr. James has 
 executed his task, almost tempts us to travel with the reader, 
 page by page, through the volume." — Mirror, 
 
 LONGMAN, ORME, BROWN, GREEN, & LONGMAN.S.
 
 4^ 
 
 THE 
 
 KING'S HIGHWAY. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 THE ROJJBKK," " THE GENTLEMAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL," 
 ETC. ETC. ETC, 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 r 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED FOR 
 
 LONGMAN, ORME, BROWN, GREEN, & LONGMANS, 
 
 PATERNOSTER- ROW. 
 
 1840.
 
 London : 
 
 Printed by A. Spottiswoode, 
 
 New-Stipet-Square.
 
 225 
 1/ / 
 
 CHRISTIAN ADAM FRIES, 
 
 OF 
 
 HEIDELBERG, 
 
 AS A TESTIMONY OF AFFECTIONATE REGARD 
 
 FROM ONE MHO WILL NEVER CEASE TO FEEL GRATEFUL FOR 
 
 HIS PARENTAL KINDNESS 
 
 TO A STRANGER IN A FOREIGN LAND, 
 
 AND WHO MUST ALWAYS REGARD, WITH ADMIRATION AND ESTEEBf, 
 
 THAT COMBINATION OF DEPTH OF FEELING, 
 
 FINENESS OF TASTE, ACCURACY OF JUDGMENT, 
 
 AND BENEVOLENCE OF HEART, 
 
 WHICH HE SO EMINENTLY DISPLAYS, 
 
 <^ AND WHICH HAVE 
 
 > £VER DISTINGUISHED THE TRULY GREAT MERCHANT ; 
 
 ■o 
 
 THIS BOOK 
 
 IS DEDICATED, BY HIS SINCERE FRIEND, 
 
 G. P. R. JAMES. 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 TO
 
 »
 
 THE KING S HIGHWAY. 
 
 4 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 Though the weather was hot and sultry, and 
 the summer was at its height, yet the evening 
 was gloomy, and low angry clouds hung over 
 the distant line of the sea, when, under the 
 shelter of some low-browed cliffs upon the Irish 
 coast, three persons stood together, two of whom 
 were talking earnestly. About four or five 
 miles from the shore, looking like a spectre 
 upon the misty back ground of clouds, appeared 
 a small brig with her canvass closely reefed, 
 though there was little wind stirring, and nothing 
 announced the approach of a gale, unless it were 
 a long heavy swell that heaved up the bosom of 
 the ocean as if with a suppressed sob. The 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE king's highway. 
 
 three persons we have mentioned were standing 
 together close at the foot of the rocks ; and, 
 though there was nothing in their demeanour 
 which would imply that they were seeking con- 
 cealment by the points and angles of the cliff, 
 — for they spoke loud, and one of them laughed 
 more than once with the short but jocund 
 laugh of a heart whose careless gaiety no cir- 
 cumstances can repress, — yet the spot was well 
 calculated to hide them from any eye, unless it 
 w^ere one gazing down from the cliffs above, or 
 one looking towards the shore from the sea. 
 
 The party of which we speak comprised two 
 men not quite reached the middle age, and a fine 
 noble-looking boy of perhaps eight years old or a 
 little more ; but all the conversation was between 
 the two elder, who bore a slight family likeness 
 to each other. The one had a cloak thrown over 
 his arm, and a blue handkerchief bound round 
 his left hand. His dress in other respects was 
 that of a military man of the period; a long- 
 waisted, broad- tailed coat, with a good deal of 
 gold lace and many large buttons upon it, 
 enormous riding boot?, and a heavy sword.
 
 THE KINGS HIGHWAY. 3 
 
 He had no defensive armour on, indeed, though 
 those were days when the soldierly cuirass was 
 not yet done away with ; and on his head he 
 only wore an ordinary hat trimmed round with 
 feathers. 
 
 He seemed, however, to be a personage 
 perfectly well able to defend his own, being not 
 much short of six feet in height ; and though 
 somewhat thin, extremely muscular, with long 
 bony arms and a wide deep chest. His fore- 
 head was high and open,' and his eye frank and 
 clear, having withal some shrewdness in its 
 quick twinkle. The countenance was a good one ; 
 the features handsome, though a little coarse; 
 and if it was not altogether prepossessing, the 
 abatement was made on account of a certain in- 
 describable look of dissipation — not absolutely 
 to say debauchery, but approaching it — which 
 mingled with the expression of finer things, 
 like nightshade filling up the broken masses of 
 some ruined temple. His hair was somewhat 
 prematurely grizzled ; for he yet lacked several 
 years of forty, and strong lines, not of thought, 
 were marked upon his brow. 
 B 2
 
 4 THE KINGS HIGHWAY. 
 
 He was, upon the whole, a man whom many 
 people would have called a handsome, fine- 
 looking man; and there was certainly in his coun- 
 tenance that indescribable something, which can 
 only be designated by the term engocjing. 
 
 While conversing with his companion, which 
 he did frankly and even gaily, laughing, as 
 we have said, from time to time, there was 
 still a peculiarity which might be supposed 
 to show that for some reason he was not 
 perfectly at his ease, or perfectly sure of the 
 man to whom he spoke* In general, he did 
 not look at him, though he gazed straight for- 
 ward ; but, as is very frequently the case with us 
 all, when we are talking to a person whom we 
 doubt or dislike, he looked beyond him, from 
 time to time, however, turning his eyes full upon 
 the countenance of his comrade, and keeping 
 them fixed upon him for several moments. 
 
 The second personage of the party was a 
 man somewhat less in height than the other, 
 but still tall. He was two or three years 
 younger ; handsome in features ; graceful in 
 person ; and withal possessing an air of distinc-
 
 tion which the other might have possessed 
 also, had it not been considerably diminished 
 by the certain gay and swaggering look which 
 we have already noticed. His dress was not 
 so completely military as that of the first, 
 though there was scarf and sword-knot, and 
 gold-fringed belt and leathern gloves, with wide 
 cuffs, which swallowed up the arms almost to 
 the elbows. 
 
 He laughed not at all, and his tone was 
 grave, but smooth and courtly, except when, 
 ever and anon, there mingled with what he was 
 saying in sweet and placid words, some bitter 
 and sarcastic tirade, which made his com- 
 panion smile, though it moved not a muscle of 
 his own countenance. 
 
 We have said that there was a third in tlie 
 group, and that third was a boy of about 
 eight years of age. It is scarcely possible 
 to conceive any thing more beautiful than 
 his countenance, or to fancy a form more re- 
 plete with living grace than his. His hair 
 swept round his clear and open countenance in 
 dark wavy curls ; and while he held the taller of
 
 O THE KING S HIGHWAY. 
 
 the two gentlemen by the hand, he gazed for- 
 ward over the wide melancholy sea, which came 
 rolling up towards their feet, with a look full of 
 thought, and perhaps of anxiety. There was 
 certainly grief in that gaze ; for the black eye- 
 lashes which surrounded those large blue eyes 
 became, after a moment or two, moistened with 
 something bright like a tear; and apparently 
 utterly inattentive to the conversation between 
 his two companions, he still turned away, fully 
 occupied with the matter of his own thoughts. 
 
 It is time, however, for us to take notice of 
 that to which he did not attend. 
 
 " Not a whit, Harr}^, not a whit," said the 
 taller of the two : " there are certain portions of 
 good and evil scattered through the world, and 
 every man must take his share of both. I have 
 taken care, as you well know, to secure a certain 
 portion of the pleasures of this life. It was not 
 natural that the thing should last for ever, so I 
 have quite made up my mind to drinking the 
 bitters since I have sipped the sweets. On this 
 last business I have staked my all, and lost my 
 all ; and if my poor brother had not done the
 
 THE KING S HIGHWAY. / 
 
 same, and lost his life into the bargain, I should 
 not much care for my part. On my honour 
 and soul it does seem to me a strange thing, 
 that here poor Morton, who would have done 
 service to every body on earth, who was as good 
 as he was brave, and as clever as he was good, 
 should fall at the very first shot, and I go through 
 the whole business with nothing but this scratch 
 of the hand. I did my best to get myself killed 
 too ; for I will swear that I was the last man 
 upon our part that left the bank of the Boyne. 
 But just as half a dozen of the fellows had got 
 nie down, and were going to cut my throat be- 
 cause I would not surrender, there came by 
 the fellow they call Bentinck, I think, who 
 called to them not to kill me now that the battle 
 was over. I started up, saying, ' There is one 
 honest Dutchman at least,' and made a dart 
 through them. They would have caught me, I 
 dare say, but he laughed aloud; and I heard 
 him call to them not to follow me, saying, ' That 
 
 one on either side made no o-reat difference.' 
 
 o 
 
 I may chance to do that fellow a good turn yet 
 in my day.'* 
 
 B 4
 
 8 THE king's highway. 
 
 *' Tliat may well be," replied the other; " for 
 since your brother's death, if you are sure he is 
 killed, you are the direct heir to an earldom, 
 and to estates that would buy a score of German 
 princes.'* 
 
 While he thus spoke, the person he ad- 
 dressed suddenly turned his eyes full upon his 
 face, and looked at him intently for a minute. 
 He then answered, " Sure he is dead, Harry ? 
 Did I not tell you that he died in my arms ? 
 Would it not have been a nice thing now, if I 
 liad been killed too ? There would have been 
 none between you and the earldom then. Upon 
 my life, I think you ought to have it : it would 
 just suit you; you would make such a smooth- 
 tongued, easy courtier to this Dutch vagabond, 
 %\'hom you are going over to, I can see, notwith- 
 standing all your asseverations ; " and he laughed 
 aloud as he spoke. 
 
 " Nonsense, Lennard, nonsense !" replied 
 his companion : " 1 neither wish you killed, my 
 good cousin, nor care for the earldom, nor am 
 goingover to the usurper, though. Heaven knows, 
 you'll do no good to any one, the earldom will
 
 THE king's highway. 9 
 
 do no good to yon, and the usurper, perhaps, 
 may do much good to the country. But had 
 either of the three been true, I should certainly 
 have given you up to the Prince of Orange, 
 instead of sharing my last fifty guineas with you, 
 to help you off to France." 
 
 His companion gazed down upon the ground 
 with a grim smile, and remained for a moment 
 without answering; he then looked up, gave a 
 shortlaugh, and replied, "I must notbe ungrate- 
 ful, cousin mine, I thank you for the money with 
 all my heart and soul ; but I cannot think that 
 you have run yourself so hard as that either; 
 you must have made mighty great preparations 
 which have not appeared, to spend your snug 
 little patrimony upon a king who did not deserve 
 it, and for whom you did not fight after all." 
 
 " I should have fought if I could have come 
 up in time," replied the other, with his brows 
 darkening. " I suppose you do not suspect me 
 of being unwilling to fight, Lennard?" 
 
 '* Oh, no, man ! no !" replied his cousin : "it 
 does not run in our blood ; we have all fighting 
 drops in our veins ; and I know you can fight
 
 10 THE king's highway. 
 
 well enough when it suits your purpose. As 
 for that matter, I might think myself a fool for 
 fighting in behalf of a man who wo*n't fight in 
 his own behalf; but it is his cause, not himself, 
 Harry, I fought for." 
 
 " Bubbles, bubbles, Lennard," replied the 
 other, " 'tis but a mere name !" 
 
 " And what do we all fight for, from tlie 
 cradle to the grave?" demanded his cousin — 
 " bubbles, bubbles, Harry. Through England 
 and Ireland, not to say Scotland, there will be 
 to-morrow morning, which I take it is Sunday, 
 full five thousand priests busily engaged in 
 telling their hearers, that love, gloiy, avarice, and 
 ambition, are nothing but — bubbles ! So I am 
 but playing the same game as the rest. I wish 
 to Heaven the boat would come round though, 
 for I am beginning to think it is as great a 
 bubble as the rest. — Run down, Wilton, my 
 boy," he said, speaking to the youth that held 
 him by the hand — " run down to that point, and 
 see if you can discover the boat creeping round 
 under the cliffs." 
 
 The boy instantly darted off without speak-
 
 THE king's highway. 11 
 
 ing, and the two gentlemen watched him in 
 silence. After a moment, however, the shorter 
 of the two spoke, with his eyes still fixed on the 
 child, and the slight sneer cm'ling his lip — "A 
 fine boy that, Lennard !" he said. " A child of 
 love, of course !'* 
 
 " Doubtless," answered the other ; " but you 
 will understand he is not mine. — It is a friend's 
 child that I have promised to do the best for." 
 
 " He is wondrous like your brother Morton,'* 
 rejoined his companion : '' it needs no marriage 
 certificate to tell us whose son he is." 
 
 " No; God speed the poor boy!" replied the 
 other gentleman, " he is like his father enough. 
 I must do what I can for him, though Heaven 
 knows what I am to do either for him or 
 myself. It is long ere he can be a soldier, and 
 I am not much accustomed to taking heed of 
 children." 
 
 "Where is his mother?" demanded the 
 cousin : " whatever be her rank, she is most 
 likely as rich as you are, and certainly better 
 able to take care of him." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " replied the other — "I might look
 
 12 
 
 long enough before I found her. The boy has 
 never known any thing about her either, so that 
 would not do. But here he comes, here he 
 comes, so say no more about it." 
 
 As he spoke, the boy bounded up, exclaiming, 
 " I see the boat, I see the boat coming round the 
 rock ; " and the moment after, a tolerable-sized 
 fishing boat was seen rounding the little point 
 that we have mentioned ; and the two cousins, 
 with the boy, descended to the water's edge. 
 During the few minutes that elapsed before the 
 boat came up to the little landing-place where 
 they stood, the cousins shook hands together, 
 and bade each other adieu. 
 
 " Well, God speed you, Harry," said the one ; 
 " you have not failed me at this pinch, though 
 you have at many another." 
 
 "Where shall I write to you, Lennard," 
 demanded the other, " in case that any thing 
 should happen to turn up to your advantage?" 
 
 " Oh ! to the Crown, to the Crown, at St. 
 Germains," replied the elder ; " and if it be for 
 any thing to my advantage, write as quickly as 
 possible, good cousin. — Come, Wilton, my boy,
 
 THE king's highway. 13 
 
 come, here's the boat ! Thank God we have not 
 much baggage to embark. — Now, my man," 
 he continued, speaking to one of the fishermen 
 who had leaped out mto the water, " lift the 
 boy in, and the portmanteau, and then off to 
 yonder brig, with all the sail you can put on." 
 
 Thus saymg, he sprang into the boat, received 
 the boy in his arms, and waved his hand to his 
 cousin, while the fishermen pushed off from the 
 shore. 
 
 The one who was left behind folded his arms 
 upon his chest, and gazed after the boat as she 
 bounded over the water. His brow was slightly 
 clouded, and a peculiar sort of smile hung upon 
 his lip ; but after thus pausing for a minute or 
 two, he turned upon his heel, walked up a 
 narrow path to the top of the cliff, and mount- 
 ing a horse which was held for him by a 
 servant, at the distance of about a hundred 
 yards from the edge, he rode away, whistling 
 as he went, not like Cimon, for want of thought, 
 but from the very intensity of thought.
 
 14 THE king's highway 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 The horseman of whom we have spoken in the 
 last chapter rode slowly on about two hundred 
 yards farther, and there the servant advanced 
 and opened a gate, by means of which the path 
 they were then upon communicated with a small 
 road between two high banks leading down to 
 the sea-side. The moment that the gentleman 
 rode forward througli the gate, his eyes fell 
 upon a figure coming up apparently from the 
 sea-shore. It was that of a woman, seemingly 
 well advanced in life, and dressed in the garb of 
 the lower orders : there was nothing particu- 
 lar in her appearance, except that in her gait 
 and figure she was more decrepit than from 
 her countenance might have been expected. 
 The tears were streaming rapidly down her 
 face, however; and though she suddenly paused 
 on perceiving the stranger, she could not com-
 
 THE king's highway. 15 
 
 mand tliose tears from flowing on, though she 
 turned away her head to conceal them. 
 
 The stranger slightly pulled in his horse's 
 rein, looked at her again, and then gazed 
 thoughtfully down the road towards the sea, as 
 if calculating what the woman could have been 
 doing there, and whether she could have seen 
 the departure of his two late companions. 
 
 The servant who was behind him seemed to 
 read his master's thoughts; for being close 
 to him shutting the gate, he said in a low 
 tone, " That's the old woman with whom the 
 young gentleman lodged; for I saw her when 
 the Colonel went there this morninj? to fetch 
 him away." 
 
 The moment the man had spoken, his master 
 pushed forward his horse again, and riding up 
 to the woman accosted her at once. 
 
 " Ah, my good woman," he said, " you are 
 grieving after your poor little boy ; but do not 
 be cast down, he will be taken good care of." 
 
 ''God bless your honour," replied the woman, 
 " and thank you, too, for comforting me : he's a 
 dear good boy, that's true : but the Colonel has
 
 16 THE king's highway. 
 
 taken him to France, so I shall never see him 
 more." 
 
 " Oh yes you may, my good lady," replied 
 the stranger: '* you know I am his cousin — his 
 father's first cousin ; so if you want to hear of 
 him from time to time, perhaps I could put 
 you in the way of it. If I knew where you 
 lived, I would come and call upon you to-night, 
 and talk to you about it before I go on to 
 Dublin." 
 
 " Your honour's going to Dublin, are you ?" 
 said the woman suddenly and sharply, while 
 the blood mounted into the cheek of her com- 
 panion, as if from some feeling of embarrass- 
 ment. She continued, however, before he could 
 reply, saying, " With a thousand thanks to your 
 honour, I shall be glad to see you ; and if I could 
 but hear that the poor boy got well to France, 
 and was comfortable, I think I should be happy 
 all my life." 
 
 " But where do you live, my good woman?" 
 demanded the horseman : " we have not much 
 time to lose, for the sun is going down, and 
 the night is coming on."
 
 if 
 
 " And a stormy night it will be," said the 
 woman, who, though she had very little of the 
 Irish accent, seemed to have not a little of that 
 peculiar obliquity of mind, which so often leads 
 the Irishman to follow the last idea started, 
 however loosely it may be connected with the 
 main subject of discourse. " As to where I 
 live," she continued, "'* it's at the small neat 
 cottage at the end of the lane ; the best house 
 in the place to my mind, except the priest's 
 and the tavern ; and for that matter it*s my 
 own property too." 
 
 " Well, I will come there in about an hour," 
 said her companion, " and we will talk it all 
 over, my good lady, for I must leave this place 
 early to-morrow." 
 
 Av/ay went the stranger as he spoke at a 
 rapid pace, towards an Irish village or small town 
 of that day, which lay at the distance of about a 
 mile and a half from the sea-shore. It was 
 altogether a very diiferent place, and bore a 
 very different aspect, from any other collenion 
 of houses, of the same number and extent 
 within the shores of the Sister Island. It was 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 THE king's highway. 
 
 situated upon the rise of a steep hill, at the 
 foot of which ran a clear shallow stream, 
 from whose margin up to the top of the accli- 
 vity ran two irregular rows of houses, wide 
 apart, and scattered at unequal distances, on 
 the two sides of the high road. They were 
 principally hovels, of a single story in height ; a 
 great proportion of them formed of nothing but 
 turf, with no other window but a hole covered 
 with a board, and sometimes not that. Others, 
 few and far betv/een, again, were equally of one 
 story, but w^re neatly plastered with clay, and 
 ornamented w^ith a wash of lime ; and besides 
 these, were three or four houses which really 
 deserved the name — the parish priest's, the 
 tavern, and what was called the shop. 
 
 These rows of dwellings were raised on two 
 high but sloping banks, which were covered 
 with green turf and extended perhaps fifty 
 yards in width between the houses and the 
 road : this long strip of turf affording the 
 inhabitants plenty of space for dunghills and 
 dust heaps, with occasional stacks of turf, and 
 a detached sort of summer-house now and then
 
 19 
 
 for a pigj in those cases where his company was 
 not preferred in the parlour. 
 
 Here, too, the chickens used to meet in daily 
 convocation; and here the priest's bull would 
 occasionally take a morning walk to the detri- 
 ment of the dunghills and the frailer edifices, 
 to the danger of the children, and the indig- 
 nation of the other animals, who might seem 
 to think that they had a right prescriptive to 
 exclusive possession. 
 
 Between these two tracts of debatable land 
 was interposed a paved high road, twice as 
 broad as it needed to have been, and furnished 
 with a stone gutter down the centre, into which 
 flowed, from every side, streams not Castalian ; 
 while five or six ducks, belonging to the 
 master of the shop, acted as the only town 
 scavengers, and a large black sow, with a sturdy 
 farrow of eleven young pigs, rolled about in the 
 full enjoyment of the filth and dirt, seeming to 
 represent the mayor and town council of this 
 rural municipality. 
 
 At the top of the hill two or three lanes 
 turned off, and in one of these was situated the 
 c 2
 
 20 THE king's highway. 
 
 cottage which the old lady had indicated as her 
 dwelling. The stranger, however, rode not 
 thither at once, but, in the first place, stopped 
 at the tavern, as it was called (being neither 
 more nor less than a small public house), and 
 throwing his rein to the servant, he dismounted, 
 and paused to order some refreshment. When 
 this was done, he took his way at once to the 
 house of the priest, which was a neat white 
 building, showing considerable taste in all its 
 external arrangements. The stranger was im- 
 mediately admitted, and remained for about half 
 an hour, at the end of which time he came out, 
 accompanied as far as the little wicket gate by a 
 very benign and thoughtful-looking man past 
 the middle age, whose last v/ords, as he took 
 leave of the stranger, were, " Alas, my son ! she 
 was so beautiful, and so charitable, that it is 
 much to be lamented that she was in all respects 
 a cast-away." 
 
 The stranger then returned to the tavern, 
 
 and sat down to a somewhat black and angular 
 
 o 
 
 roasted fowl, which, however, proved better to 
 thejpalate than the eye ; and to this he added
 
 THE king's highway. 21 
 
 somewhat more than a pint of claret, which — 
 however strange it may seem to find such a 
 thing in an Irish pot-house — might, for taste 
 and fragrance, have competed with the best that 
 ever was found at the table of prince or peer: 
 nor was such a thing uncommon in that day. 
 This done, and when five or six minutes of 
 meditation — that kind of pleasant meditation 
 which ensues when the inner man is made quite 
 comfortable — had been added to his moderate 
 food and moderate potation, the stranger rose, 
 and with a slow and thoughtful step walked 
 forth from the inn, and took his way towards 
 the cottage to which the old woman had directed 
 him. 
 
 The sun was by this time sinking below the 
 horizon, and a bright red glow from his declin- 
 ing rays spread through the atmosphere, tinging 
 the edges of the long, liny, lurid clouds which 
 w^ere gathering thickly over the sky. The 
 wind, too, had risen considerably, and was 
 blowing with sharp quick gusts increasing to- 
 wards a gale, so that the stranger was obliged 
 c 3
 
 22 THE king's highway. 
 
 to put his hand to his large feathered hat to 
 keep it firm upon his head. 
 
 In the mean time the old woman had re- 
 turned home, and her first occupation was to 
 indulge her grief; for, sitting down at the little 
 table in her parlour, she covered her eyes with 
 her hands, and wept till the tears ran through 
 her fingers. After a time, however, she calmed 
 herself, and rising, looked for a moment into a 
 small looking-glass, which showed her face 
 entirely disfigured with tears. She then went 
 into a little adjacent room, which, as well as the 
 parlour, was the image of neatness and clean- 
 ness. She there took a towel, dipped it in cold 
 water, and seemed about to bathe away the 
 traces from her cheeks. The next moment, 
 however, she threw the towel down, saying, 
 *• No, no! why should I?" She then returned 
 to the parlour, and called down the passage, 
 " Betty, Betty ! " 
 
 An Irishwoman, of about fifty years of 
 age, clothed much in the same style, and not 
 much worse than her mistress, appeared in 
 answer to her summons, and^ according to the
 
 THE KING*S HIGHWAY, 23 
 
 directions she now received, lighted a single 
 candle, put up a large heavy shutter against the 
 parlour window, and retired. The mistress 
 of the house remained for some time sitting 
 at the table, and apparently listening for every 
 step without ; though from time to time, when 
 a heavier and heavier blast of wind shook the 
 cottage where she sat, she gazed up towards 
 the sky, and her lips moved as if offering a 
 prayer. 
 
 At length some one knocked loudly at the 
 door, and starting up, she hurried to open it 
 and give entrance to the stranger whom we have 
 mentioned before. She put a chair for him, 
 and stood till he asked her to sit down. 
 
 " So, my good lady," he said, " you lived a 
 long time with Colonel and Mrs. Sherbrooke." 
 
 " Oh ! bless you, yes, sir," replied the woman, 
 " ever since the Colonel and the young lady 
 came here, till she died, poor thing, and then I 
 remained to take care of the boy, dear beautiful 
 fellow." 
 
 " You seem very sorry to lose him," rejoined 
 c 4
 
 24 THE king's highway. 
 
 the stranger, "and, doubtless, were sadly grieved 
 when Mrs. Sherbrooke died." 
 
 " You may well say that," replied the woman: 
 " had I not known her quite a little girl ? and 
 to see her die, in the prime of her youth and 
 beauty, not four and twenty years of age. You 
 may well say 1 was sorry. If her poor father 
 could have seen it, it would have broke his 
 heart; but he died long before that, or many 
 another thing would have broken his heart as 
 well as that." 
 
 " Was her father living," demanded the 
 stranger, " when she married Colonel Sher- 
 brooke?" 
 
 The woman, without replying, gazed in- 
 quiringly and steadfastly on the stranger's coun- 
 tenance for a moment or two ; who continued, 
 after a short pause — '' Poo, poo, I knov/ all 
 about it; I mean when she came away with 
 him." 
 
 " No, sir," replied the woman ; " he had 
 been dead then more than a year." 
 
 " Doubtless," replied the stranger, " it was, 
 as you implied, a happy thing for him that he
 
 THE king's highway. 25 
 
 did not live to see his daughter's fate; but how 
 was it, I wonder, as she was so sweet a creature, 
 and the Colonel so fond of her, that he never 
 married her?" 
 
 The woman looked down for a moment ; but 
 then gazed up in his face with a somewhat 
 rueful expression of countenance, and a shake 
 of the head, answering, " She was a Protestant, 
 you know." 
 
 The stranger looked surprised, and asked, 
 " Did she always continue a Protestant, my 
 good woman? I should have thought love 
 could have worked more wonderful conversions 
 than that." 
 
 " Ah ! she died as she lived, poor thing,'' 
 replied the woman, " and with nobody with 
 her either, but I and one other; for the Colonel 
 was away, poor man, levying troops for the 
 king — that is, for King James, sir ; for your 
 honour looks as if you were on the other side." 
 
 The stranger was silent and looked ab- 
 stracted ; but at length he answered, somewhat 
 listlessly, " Really, my good woman, one does 
 not know what side to be of. — It is raining very
 
 26 THE king's highway. 
 
 hard to-night, unless those are the boughs of 
 the trees tapping against your window." 
 
 " Those are the large drops of rain," replied 
 the woman, " dashed against the glass by the 
 south-west wind. It will be an awful night; 
 and I think of the ship." 
 
 " I will let you hear of the boy," rejoined 
 the stranger in an indifferent tone, " as soon as 
 I hear of him myself;" and taking up his hat 
 from the table he seemed about to depart, 
 when a peculiar expression upon the woman's 
 countenance made him pause, and, at the same 
 time, brought to his mind that he had not even 
 asked her name. 
 
 '* I thought your honour had forgotten," she 
 replied, when he asked her the question at 
 length: "they call me Betty Harper; but Mrs. 
 Harper will find me in this place, if you put 
 that upon your letter : and now that we are 
 asking such sort of questions, your honour 
 wouldn't be offended, surely, if I were to ask 
 you your name too ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, my good lady," he replied ; 
 I am called Harry Sherbrooke Esquire, very
 
 THE king's highway. 27 
 
 mucli at your service. — Heavens, how it blows 
 and rains ! " 
 
 " Perhaps it is nothing but a wind-shov»^er," 
 replied the woman; *'if your honour would 
 like to wait until it has ridden by." 
 
 " Why I shall get drenched most as- 
 suredly if I go," he answered, " and that before 
 I reach the inn ; but I will look out and see, 
 my good lady." 
 
 He accordingly proceeded into the little 
 passage, and opened the door," followed by 
 his companion. They were instantly saluted, 
 however, by a blast of wind that almost 
 knocked the strong man himself down, and 
 made the woman reel against the wall of the 
 passage. 
 
 Every thing beyond — though the cottage, si- 
 tuated upon a height, looked down the slope of 
 the hill, over the cliifs, to the open sea — was 
 as dark as the cloud which fell upon Egypt: 
 a darkness that could be felt ! and not the 
 slightest vestige of star or moon, or lingering 
 ray of sunshine, marked to the eye the distinc- 
 tion between heaven, earth, and sea.
 
 28 THE king's highway. 
 
 Sherbrooke drew back, as the wind cut him, 
 and the rain dashed in his face ; but at that very 
 moment something hke a faint flash was seen, 
 apparently at a great distance, and gleaming 
 through the heavy rain. The woman instantly 
 caught her companion's wrist tight in her grasp, 
 exclaiming, " Hark !" — and in a few seconds 
 after, in a momentary lull of the wind, was 
 heard the low booming roar of a distant can- 
 non, 
 
 " It is a signal of distress," cried the woman. 
 " Oh ! the ship, the ship ! The wind is dead 
 upon the shore, and the long reef, out by the 
 Battery Point, has seen many a vessel wrecked 
 between night and morning." 
 
 While she spoke, the signal of distress was 
 seen and heard again. 
 
 " I will go down and send people out to see 
 what can be done," said the stranger, and 
 walked away without waiting for reply. He 
 turned his steps towards the inn, muttering as 
 he went, " There's one, at least, on board the 
 ship, that wo'n't be drowned, if there's truth in 
 an old proverb ! so if the vessel be wrecked to-
 
 THE king's highway. 29 
 
 iiightj I had better order breakfast for my 
 cousin to-morrow mornino* — for be is sure to 
 swim ashore.** 
 
 It was a night, however, on which no hope 
 of reachino' land could cheer the v/recked sea- 
 
 o 
 
 men. The tide was approaching the full ; the 
 wind was blowing a perfect hurricane ; the surf 
 upon a high rocky beach, no boat could have 
 lived in for a minute ; and the strongest swim- 
 mer — even if it had been within the scope of 
 human power and skill to struggle on for any 
 time with those tremendous waves — must in- 
 fallibly have been dashed to pieces on the rocks 
 that lined the shore. The minute guns were dis- 
 tinctly heard from that town, and several other 
 villages in the neighbourhood. Many people 
 went to the tops of the cliffs, and some down 
 to the sea-shore, where the waves did not reach 
 the bases of the rocks. One gentleman, living 
 in the neighbourhood, sent out servants and 
 tenantry with links and torches, but no one 
 ever could clearly distinguish the ship; and 
 could only perceive that she must be in the 
 direction of a dangerous rocky shoal called
 
 30 THE king's highway. 
 
 tlie Long Reef, at about two miles' distance 
 from the shore. 
 
 The next morning, however, her fate was 
 more clearly ascertained ; not that a vestige of 
 her was to be seen out at sea, but the whole 
 shore for two or three miles was covered with 
 pieces of wreck. The stern-post of a small, 
 French-built vessel, and also a boat consider- 
 ably damaged in the bow, and turned keel up- 
 wards, came on shore as Harry Sherbrooke 
 and his servant were themselves examining the 
 scene. The boat bore, painted in white letters, 
 " La Coureuse de Dunkerque." 
 
 " That is enough for our purpose, I should 
 suppose," said the master, pointing to the let- 
 ters with a cane he had in his hand, and ad- 
 dressing his servant — "I must be gone, Har- 
 rison, but you remain behind and do as I bade 
 you." 
 
 " Wait a moment yet, sir," replied the man : 
 ^' you see they are bringing up a body from 
 between those two rocks, — it seems about his 
 size and make too ;" and approaching the spot 
 to which he pointed, they found some of the
 
 31 
 
 country people carrying up the body of a 
 French officer, which afterwards proved to be 
 that of the commander of the brig, which 
 had been seen during the preceding day. 
 After examining the papers which were taken 
 from the pockets of the dead man, one of which 
 seemed to be a list of all the persons on board 
 his vessel, Sherbrooke turned away, merely 
 saying to his servant, " Take care and secure 
 that paper, and bring it after me to Dublin as 
 fast as possible.'* 
 
 The man bowed his head, and his master 
 walked slowly and quietly away.
 
 02 THE king's highway. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Now whatever might be the effect of all that 
 passed, as recorded in the last chapter, upon the 
 mind of Harry Sherbrooke, it is not in the 
 slightest degree our intention to induce the 
 reader to believe that the two personages, the 
 officer and the little boy, whom we saw embark 
 for the brig which was wrecked, were amongst 
 the persons who perished upon that occasion. 
 True it is that every person the ship contained 
 found a watery grave, between sunset and sun- 
 rise on the night in question. But to explain 
 how the whole took place we must follow the 
 track of the voyagers in the boat. 
 
 As soon as they were seated, Lennard Sher- 
 brooke threw his arms affectionately round the 
 boy, drew him a little closer to his bosom, and 
 kissed his broad fair forehead ; while the boy on 
 his part, with his hand leaning on the officer's
 
 THE king's highway. 33 
 
 knee, and his shoulder resting confiding on his 
 bosom, looked up in his face widi eyes of earnest 
 and deep affection. In such mute conference 
 they remained for some five or ten minutes ; 
 while the hardy sailors pulled away at the oars, 
 their course towards the vessel lying right in 
 the wind's eye. After a minute or two more, 
 Lennard Sherbrooke turned round, and gazed 
 back towards the shore, where he could now 
 plainly perceive his cousin beginning to climb 
 the little path up the cliff. After watching him 
 for a moment with a look of calculating thought, 
 he turned towards the boy again, and saw that 
 there were tears in his eyes, which sight caused 
 him to bend down, saying, in a low voice, " You 
 are not frightened, my dear boy?" 
 
 " Oh no, no !" replied the boy — " I am only 
 sorry to go away to a strange place." 
 
 Lennard Sherbrooke turned his eyes once 
 more towards the shore, but the form of his 
 cousin had now totally disappeared. He then 
 remained musing for a minute or two, while the 
 fishermen laboured away making no very great 
 progress against the wind. At the distance of 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE king's highway. 
 
 about a mile or a mile and a half from the 
 shore, Lennard Sherbrooke turned round to- 
 wards the man who was steering, and made 
 some remarks upon the excellence of the boat. 
 The man, proud of his little vessel, boasted her 
 capabilities, and declared that she was as sea- 
 worthy as any frigate in the navy. 
 
 " I should like to see her tried," said Sher- 
 brooke. 
 
 " I should not wonder if she w^ere well tried 
 to-night," replied the man. 
 
 For a moment or two the officer made no 
 rejoinder ; but then approaching the steersman 
 nearer still, he said, in a low voice, " Come, my 
 man, I have something to tell you. — We must 
 alter our course very soon : I am not going to 
 yon Frenchman at all." 
 
 " Why, then, where the devil are you going 
 to?" .demanded the fisherman; and he pro- 
 ceeded, with tones and in language which none 
 but an Irishman must presume to deal with, to 
 express his astonishment, that after having been 
 hired by the other gentleman to carry the 
 person who spoke to him and the boy to the
 
 THE king's highway. 3S 
 
 French brig of war, where berths had been 
 secured for them, he should be told that they 
 were not going there at all. 
 
 The stranger suffered him to expend all his 
 astonishment without moving a muscle, and 
 then replied, with perfect calmness, " My good 
 friend, you are a Catholic, I have been told, and 
 a good subject to King James -" 
 
 " God bless him ! " interrupted the man 
 heartily; but Sherbrooke proceeded, saying, 
 " In these days one may well be doubtful of 
 one's own relations, and I have a fancy, my 
 2«an, that unless I prevent any one from know- 
 ing my course, and where I am, I may be be- 
 trayed where I go, and betrayed if I stay. Now 
 what I want you to do is this, to take me over 
 to the coast of England, instead of to yonder 
 French brig." 
 
 The man's astonishment was very great; but 
 he seemed to enter into the motives of his com- 
 panion with all the quick perception of an Irish- 
 man. There were innumerable difficulties, 
 however, which he did not fail to start; and he 
 asserted manfully, that it was utterly impossible 
 D 2
 
 36 THE king's highway. 
 
 for them to proceed upon such a voyage at once. 
 In the first place, they had no provisions ; in the 
 next place, there was the wife and children, who 
 -would not know what was become of them ; in 
 the third place, it was coming on to blow hard 
 right upon the coast. So that he proved there 
 was, in fact, not only danger and difficulty, 
 but absolute impossibility, opposed to the plan 
 which the gentleman wished to follow. 
 
 In the meanwhile the four seamen, who were 
 at the oars, laboured away incessantly, but with 
 very slow and difficult effi^rts. Every moment 
 the wind rose higher and higher, and the sun*s 
 lower limb touched the waters, while they were 
 yet two miles from the French brig. 
 
 A part of the large red disk of the descend- 
 in": orb was seen between the sea and the edffe 
 of the clouds that hung upon the verge of the 
 sky, pouring forth from the horizon to the very 
 shore a long line of blood-red light, which, 
 resting upon the boiling waters of the ocean, 
 seemed as if the setting star could indeed 
 " the multitudinous sea incarnadine, making 
 the green one red."
 
 37 
 
 That red light, however, showed far more 
 clearly than before how the waters were al- 
 ready agitated; for the waves might be seen 
 distinctly, even to the spot in the horizon where 
 they seemed to struggle with the sun, heaving 
 up their gigantic heads till they appeared to 
 overwhelm him before he naturally set. 
 
 The arguments of the fisherman apparently 
 effected that thing which is so seldom effected 
 in this world ; namely, to convince the person 
 to whom they were addressed. I say seldom^ 
 for there have been instances known in remote 
 times of people being convinced. They puzzled 
 him, however, and embarrassed him very much, 
 and he remained for full five minutes in deep 
 and anxious thought. 
 
 His reverie, however, was brought to an end 
 suddenly, by a few words which the fisherman 
 whispered to him. His countenance brightened ; 
 a rapid and brief conversation followed in a low 
 tone, which ended in his abruptly holding out 
 his hand to the good man at the helm, saying, 
 " I trust to your honour." 
 
 D 3
 
 38 THE king's highway. 
 
 " Upon my soul and honour," replied the 
 fisherman, grasping his proffered hand. 
 
 The matter now seemed settled, — no farther 
 words passed between the master of the boat 
 and his passenger; but the seaman gave a rapid 
 glance to the sky, to the long spit of land called 
 the Battery Point, and to the southward whence 
 the wind was blowing so sharply. 
 
 " We can do it," he muttered to himself, 
 " we can do it;" and he then gave immediate 
 orders for changing the boat's course, and 
 putting out all sail. His companions seemed as 
 much surprised by his change of purpose, as he 
 had been with the alteration of his passenger's 
 determination. His orders were nevertheless 
 obeyed promptly, the head of the boat was 
 turned away from the wind, the canvass caught 
 the gale, and away she went like lightning, 
 heeling till the little yard almost touched the 
 water. Her course, however, was not bent 
 back exactly to the same spot from which she 
 started, and it now became evident that it was 
 the fisherman's intention to round the Battery 
 Point.
 
 THE king's highway. 39 
 
 Lennard Sherbrooke was not at all aware of 
 the dangerous reef that lay so near their course ; 
 but it soon became evident to him that there 
 was some great peril, which required much skill 
 and care to avoid ; and as night fell, the anxiety 
 of the seamen evidently became greater. The 
 wind by this time was blowing quite a hurricane, 
 and the rushing roaring sound of the gale and 
 the ocean was quite deafening. But about half 
 an hour after sunset that peculiar angry roar, 
 which is only heard in the neighbourhood of 
 breakers, was distinguished to leeward; and look- 
 ing in that direction, Sherbrooke perceived one 
 long white line of foam and surf, rising like 
 an island in the midst of dark and struggling 
 waters. 
 
 Not a word was said : it seemed as if scarcely 
 a breath was drawn. In a few minutes the 
 sound of the breakers became less distinct; a 
 slight motion was perceivable in the arm of the 
 man who held the tiller, and in about ten 
 minutes the effect of the neighbouring head- 
 lands was found in smoother water and a 
 lighter gale, as the boat glided calmly and 
 D 4
 
 40 THE king's highway. 
 
 steadily on, into a small bay, not many hundred 
 miles from Baltimore. The rest of their voyage, 
 till they reached the shore again, was safe and 
 easy : the master of the boat and his men 
 seemed to know every creek, cove, and inlet, as 
 well as their own dwelling places ; and directing 
 ^heir course to a little but deep stream, they 
 ran in between two other boats, and were soon 
 safely moored. 
 
 The boy, by Sherbrooke's direction, had 
 lain himself down in the bottom of the boat, 
 wrapped up in a large cloak ; and there, with 
 the happy privilege of childhood, he had fallen 
 sound asleep, nor woke till danger and anx- 
 iety were passed, and the little vessel safe at 
 the shore. Accommodation was easily found 
 in a neighbouring village, and on the follow- 
 ing day, one, and only one, of the boat's crew 
 went over to the spot from which they had 
 set out on the preceding evening. He re- 
 turned with another man, both loaded with 
 provisions. There was much coming and going 
 between the village and the boat during the 
 day. By eventide the storm had sobbed itself
 
 THE king's highway. 41 
 
 away ; the sea was calm again, the sky soft and 
 clear; and beneath the bright eyes of the 
 watchful stars the boat once more took its way 
 across the broad bosom of the ocean, with 
 its course laid directly towards the English 
 shore.
 
 42 THE king's highway 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Those were days of pack-saddles and pillions 
 — days certainly not without their state and 
 display ; but yet days in which persons were not 
 valued according to the precise mode of their 
 dress or equipage, when hearts v/ere not 
 appraised by the hat or gloves, nor the mind 
 estimated by the carriages or horses. 
 
 Man was considered far more abstractedly 
 then than at present ; and although illustrious 
 ancestors, great possessions, and hereditary 
 claims upon consideration, were allowed more 
 weight than they now possess, yet the minor 
 circumstances of each individual, — the things 
 that filled his pocket, the dishes upon his table, 
 the name of his tailor, or the club that he be- 
 longed to, — were seldom, if ever, allowed to 
 affect the appreciation of his general character. 
 
 However that might be, it was an age, as we
 
 THE king's highway. 4S 
 
 have said, of pack-saddles and pillions ; and no 
 one, at any distance from the capital itself, 
 would have been the least ashamed to be seen 
 with a lady or child mounted behind him on 
 the same horse, while he jogged easily onward 
 on his destined way. 
 
 It was thus that about a quarter of an hour 
 before night-fall a tall powerful man was seen 
 riding along through one of the north-western 
 counties of England, with a boy of about eight 
 years of age mounted on a pillion behind him, 
 and steadying himself on the horse by an 
 affectionate embrace cast round the waist of his 
 elder companion. 
 
 Lennard Sherbrooke — for the reader has 
 already divined that this was no other than 
 the personage introduced to him in our first 
 chapter — Lennard Sherbrooke then was still 
 heavily armed, but in other respects had under- 
 gone a considerable change. The richly laced 
 coat had given place to a plain dark one of 
 greenish brown; the large riding boots remained; 
 and the hat, though it kept its border of feathers, 
 was divested of every other ornament. There
 
 44 THE king's highway. 
 
 were pistols at the saddle-bow, which indeed 
 were very necessary in those days to every one 
 who performed the perilous and laborious duty 
 of wandering along the King's Highway ; and in 
 every other respect the appearance of Lennard 
 Sherbrooke was well calculated neither to at- 
 tract cupidity nor invite attack. 
 
 About ten minutes after the period at which 
 we have again introduced him to our readers, 
 the traveller and his young companion stopped 
 at the door of an old-fashioned inn, or rather at 
 the porch thereof; for the door itself with a 
 retiring modesty stood at some distance back, 
 while an impudent little portico with carved 
 oak pillars, of quaint but not inelegant design, 
 stood forth into the road, with steps leading 
 down from it to the sill of the sunk door- 
 way. An ostler ran out to take the horse, 
 and helped the boy down tenderly and care- 
 fully. Sherbrooke himself then dismounted, 
 looked at his beast from head to foot, and then 
 ordering the ostler to give him some hay and 
 water, he took the boy by the hand and entered 
 the house.
 
 THE king's highway. 45 
 
 The ostler looked at the beast, which was 
 tired, and then at the sky, over which the 
 first shades of evening were beginning to creep, 
 thinking as he did so that the stranger might 
 quite as well put up his beast for the night. 
 In the mean time, however, Sherbrooke had 
 given the boy into the charge of the hostess, 
 had bidden her prepare some supper for him, 
 and had intimated that he himself was going 
 a little farther, but would soon return to sleep 
 at her hospitable dwelling. He ordered to be 
 brought in and given into her charge also a 
 small portmanteau, — smaller than that which 
 he had taken with him into the boat, — and 
 when all this was done, he kissed the boy's 
 forehead tenderly and left him, mounting once 
 more his weary beast, and plodding slowly along 
 upon his way. 
 
 It was a very sweet evening : the sun, half 
 way down behind one of the distant hills, 
 seemed, like man's curiosity, to overlook un- 
 heeded all the bright and beautiful things close 
 to him, and to gaze with his eyes of light full 
 upon the objects further from him, through
 
 46 THE king's highway. 
 
 which tlie wayfarer was bending his way. The 
 line of undulating hills, the masses of a long 
 line of woodland, some deep valleys and dells, 
 a small village with its church and tower on 
 an eminence, were all in deep blue shadow; 
 while, in the foreground, every bank and slope 
 was glittering in yellow sunshine, and a small 
 river, that wound along through the flatter part 
 of the ground, seemed turned into gold by the 
 great and glorious alchymist, as he sunk to his 
 rest. 
 
 The heart of the traveller who wandered 
 there alone was ill, very ill at ease. Happily 
 for himself, as he was now circumstanced, the 
 character of Sherbrooke was a gay and buoyant 
 one, not easily depressed, bearing the load 
 lightly; but still he could not but feel the 
 difficulties, the dangers, and the distresses of a 
 situation, which, though shared in by very many 
 at that moment, v/as rather aggravated by such 
 being the case, and had but small alleviation 
 even from hope. 
 
 In the first place, he had seen the cause to 
 which he had attached himself utterly ruined
 
 THE king's highway. 47 
 
 by the base irresolution of a weak monarchy 
 Avbo bad lost bis crown by bis tyranny, and wbo 
 bad failed to regain it by bis courage. In tbe 
 next place^ for bis devotion to tbat cause, be 
 was a banished and an outlawed man, with bis 
 life at tbe mercy of any one who chose to take 
 it. In the next, be was well nigh penniless, 
 with the life of another, dear, most dear to his 
 heart, dependhig entirely upon his exertions. 
 
 The heart of the traveller then was ill, very 
 ill at ease, but yet the calm of that evening's 
 sunshine had a sweet and tranquillising effect. 
 There is a mirror — there is certainly a moral 
 mirror in our hearts, which reflects the images 
 of the things around us ; and every change tbat 
 comes over nature's face is mingled sweetly, 
 though too often unnoticed, with the thouo;hts 
 and feelings called forth by other things. Tbe 
 effect of that calm evening upon Lennard 
 Sherbrooke was not to produce the wild, bright, 
 visionary dreams and expectations, which seem 
 tbe peculiar offspring of the glowing morn- 
 ing, or of the bright and risen day ; but it was 
 tbe counterpart, tbe image, the reflection of
 
 48 THE king's highway. 
 
 that evening scene itself to which it gave rise 
 in his heart. He felt tranquillised, he felt more 
 resolute, more capable of enduring. Grief and 
 anxiety subsided into melancholy and I'esolu- 
 tion, and the sweet influence of the hour had 
 also an effect beyond : it made him pause upon 
 the memories of his past life, upon many a scene 
 of idle profligacy, revel, and riot, — of talents cast 
 away and opportunity neglected, — of fortune 
 spent and bright hopes blasted, — and of all the 
 great advantages which he had once possessed 
 utterly lost and gone, with the exception of a 
 kind and generous heart : a jewel, indeed, but 
 one which in this world, alas ! can but too 
 seldom' be turned to the advantage of the pos- 
 sessor. 
 
 On these things he pondered, and a sweet 
 and ennobling regret came upon him that 
 it should be so — a regret which might have 
 gone on to sincere repentance, to firm amend- 
 ment, to the retrieval of fortunes, to an utter 
 change of destiny, had the circumstances of 
 the times, or any friendly voice and helping- 
 hand, led his mind on upon that path wherein it
 
 THE king's highway. 49 
 
 had already taken the first step, and had 
 opened out before him a way of retrieval, 
 instead of forcing him onward down the hill of 
 destruction. But, alas ! those were not times 
 when the opportunity of doing better was likely 
 to be allowed to him; nor were circumstances 
 destined to change his course. His destiny, like 
 that of many Jacobites of the day, was but to 
 be from ruin to ruin ; and let it be remem- 
 bered, that the character and history of Len- 
 nard Sherbrooke are not ideal, but are copied 
 faithfully from a true but sad history of a life in 
 those times. 
 
 All natural affections sweeten and purify the 
 human heart. Like every thing else given us 
 immediately from God, their natural tendency 
 is to wage war against all that is evil within us ; 
 and every single thought of amendment and 
 improvement, every regret for the past, every 
 better hope for the future, was connected with 
 the thought of the beautiful boy he had left 
 behind at the inn; and, elevated by his love 
 for a being in the bright purity of youth, he 
 thought of him and his situation again and 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE king's highway. 
 
 again; and often as he did so, the intensity of 
 his own feelings made him murmur forth half 
 audihle words all relating to the bo3% or to 
 the person he was then about to seek, for the 
 purpose of interesting him in the poor youth's 
 fate. 
 
 *' I will tell him all and every thing," he said, 
 thus murmurinc: to himself as he went on : " he 
 may drive me forth if he will ; but surely, surely, 
 he will protect and do something for the boy. 
 What, though there have been faults committed 
 and wrong done, he cannot be so hard-hearted 
 as to let the poor child starve, or be brought 
 up as I can alone bring him up." 
 
 Such was still the conclusion to which he 
 seemed to come ; and at length when the sun 
 had completely gone down, and at the distance 
 of about three miles from the inn, he paused 
 before a large pair of wooden gates, consisting 
 of two rows of square bars of painted wood 
 placed close together, with a thick heavy rail at 
 the top and bottom, while two wooden obelisks, 
 •with their steeple-shaped summits, formed the 
 gate posts. Opening the gates, as one well
 
 THE king's highway. 51 
 
 familiar with the lock, he now entered the 
 smaller road which led from them through the 
 fields towards a wood npon the top of the hill. 
 At first the way was uninteresting enough, and 
 the faint remains of twilight only served to 
 show some square fields within their hedge-rows 
 cut in the most prim and undeviating lines 
 around. The wayfarer rode on, through that 
 part of the scene with his eyes bent dov/n in 
 deep thought ; but when he came to the wood ; 
 and, following the path — which, now kept 
 with high neatness and propriety, w^ound in 
 and out amongst the trees, and then sweep- 
 ing gently round the shoulder of the hill, ex- 
 posed a beautiful deer park — he had before 
 his eyes a fine Elizabethan house, rising grey 
 upon a little eminence at the distance of 
 some four or fiv-e hundred yards, — it seemed 
 that some old remembrance, some agitating 
 vision of the days gone by, came over the 
 horseman's mind. He pulled in his rein, 
 clasped his hands together, and gazed around 
 with a look of sad and painful recognition. 
 At the end of a minute or two, however, he 
 E 2 
 
 y. >/ ILL UB,
 
 5*2 THE king's highway. 
 
 recovered himself, rode on to the front of the 
 house we have mentioned, and dismounting 
 from his horse, pulled the bell-rope, which 
 action was instantly followed by a long peal 
 heard from within. 
 
 " It sounds cold and empty,*' said the way- 
 farer to himself, " like my reception, and per- 
 haps my hopes." 
 
 No answer was made for some time ; and 
 though the sounds had been loud enough, as the 
 traveller's ears bore witness, yet they required 
 to be repeated before any one came to ask his 
 pleasure. 
 
 " This is very strange ! " he said, as he ap- 
 plied his hand to the bell-rope again. '' He 
 must have grown miserly, as they say, indeed. 
 Why I remember a dozen servants crov/ding 
 into this porch at the first sound of a horse's 
 feet." 
 
 A short time after some steps were heard 
 within; bolts and bars were carefully withdrawn, 
 and an old man in a white jacket, with a lan- 
 tern in his hand, opened the heavy oaken door, 
 and gazed upon the stranger.
 
 THE king's highway. 53 
 
 " Where is tb.e Earl of Byerdale ? " demanded 
 the horseman, in apparent surprise ; " is he not 
 at home?" 
 
 The old man gazed at him for a moment 
 from head to foot, without replying, and then 
 answered slowly and somewhat bitterly, " Yes, 
 he is at home — at his long home, from which 
 he'll never move again ! Why, he has been 
 dead and buried this fortnight." 
 
 '•Indeed!" cried the traveller, putting his 
 hand to his head, with an air of surprise, and 
 what we may call dismay ; "indeed ! and who 
 has discharged the servants and shut up the 
 house ?" 
 
 " Those who have a right to do it," replied 
 the old man sharply ; " for my lord was not such 
 a fool as to leave his property to be spent, and 
 his place mismanaged, by two scape-graces whom 
 he knew well enough." 
 
 As he spoke, without farther ceremony he 
 shut the door in the stranger's face, and then 
 returned to his own abode in the back part of 
 the house, chuckling as he went, and murmur- 
 ing to himself, " I think I have paid him now 
 E 3
 
 54 THE king's highway. 
 
 for throwing me into the horsepond, for just 
 telling a little bit of a lie about Ellen the laundry 
 maid. He thought I had forgotten him ! Ha ! 
 ha! ha!" 
 
 The traveller stood confounded; but he made 
 no observation, he uttered no word, he seemed 
 too much accustomed to meet the announce- 
 ment of fresh misfortune to suffer it to drive 
 him from the strong-hold of silence. Sweeter 
 or gentler feelings might have done it : he 
 might have been tempted to speak aloud in 
 calm meditation and thought, either gloomy or 
 joyful ; but his heart, when wrung and broken 
 by the last hard grasp of fate, like the wolf at 
 his death, was dumb. 
 
 He remained for full two minutes, hov/ever, 
 beneath the porch motionless and silent; then 
 sprhiging on his horse's back, he urged him 
 somewhat rapidly up the slope. Ere he had 
 reached the top, either from remembering that 
 the beast was wearv, or from some change in 
 his own feelings, he slackened his pace, and 
 gave himself up to meditation again. The 
 first agony of the blow that he had received
 
 THE KINGS HIGHWAY. 5o 
 
 was now over, and once again he not only 
 reasoned with himself calmly, but expressed 
 some of his conclusions in a murmur. 
 
 " What !" he said, " a peer without a 
 penny ! the name attainted too, and all lands 
 and property declared forfeit ! No, no ! it 
 will never do ! Years may bring better times ! 
 — Who knows ? the attainder may be reversed ; 
 new fortunes may be gained or made! The 
 right dies not, though it may slumber; exists, 
 though it be not enforced. A peer without a 
 penny ! no, no ! — far better a beggar with half 
 a crown ! " 
 
 Thus saying he rode on, passed through the 
 wood v/e have mentioned, — the dull meadows, 
 and the wooden gates; and entering the high 
 road, was proceeding towards the inn, when an 
 event occurred which effected a considerable 
 change in his plans and purposes. 
 
 It was by this time one of those dark nights, 
 
 the most propitious that can be imagined for 
 
 such little adventures as rendered at one time 
 
 the place called Gad's Hill famous alike in 
 
 E 4
 
 56 THE king's highway. 
 
 story and in song. It wasn't that the night 
 was cloudy, for, to say sooth, it was a fine night, 
 and manifold small stars were twinkling in the 
 sky; but the moon, the sweet moon, was at that 
 time in her infancy, a babe of not two days old, 
 so that the light she afforded to her wandering 
 companions through the fields of space was of 
 course not likely to be much. The stars 
 twinkled, as we have said, but they gave no 
 light to the road ; and on either side there were 
 sundry brakes, and lanes, and hedges, and 
 groups of trees which were sufficiently shady 
 and latitant in the mid-day, and which cer- 
 tainly were impervious to any ray of light then 
 above the horizon. 
 
 The mind of Lennard Sherbrooke, however, 
 was far too busy about other things to think of 
 dangers on the King's Highway. His purse was 
 certainly well armoured against robbery ; and 
 the defence was in the inside and not on the 
 out; so that — had he thought on the matter at 
 all, which he did not do — he might very pro- 
 bably have thought, in his light recklessness, 
 he wished he might meet with a highwayman,
 
 THE king's highway. 57 
 
 in order to try whether he could not rob better 
 than be robbed. 
 
 However, as I have said, he thought not of 
 the subject at all. His own situation, and that 
 of the boy Wilton, occupied him entirely ; 
 and it was not till the noise of a horse's feet 
 coming rapidly behind him sounded close at 
 his shoulder, that he turned to see by whom 
 he had been overtaken. 
 
 All that Sherbrooke could perceive was, that 
 it was a maiv mounted on a remarkably fine 
 horse, riding with ease and grace, and bearing 
 altogether the appearance of a gentleman. 
 
 " Pray, sir," said the stranger, " can you tell 
 me how far I am from the inn called the Buck's 
 Horns, and whether this is the direct road 
 thither?" 
 
 "The inn is about two miles on," replied 
 Sherbrooke, " on the left-hand side of the way, 
 and you cannot miss it, for there is no other 
 house for five miles." 
 
 " Only two miles ! " said the stranger ; " then 
 there is no use of my riding so fast, risking to 
 break my neck, and my horse's knees."
 
 58 THE king's highway. 
 
 Sherbrooke said notliing, but rode on quietly, 
 while the stranger, still reining in his horse, 
 pursued the high road by the traveller's side. 
 
 " It is a very dark night," said the stranger, 
 after a minute or two's silence. 
 
 "A very dark night, indeed ! " replied Sher- 
 brooke, and the conversation again ended there. 
 
 " Well," said the stranger, after two or three 
 minutes more had passed, " as my conversation 
 seems disagreeable to you, sir, I shall ride 
 on." 
 
 " Good night, sir," replied Sherbrooke, and 
 the other appeared to put spurs to his horse. 
 At the first step, however, he seized the tra- 
 veller's rein, uttering a whistle : two more 
 horsemen instantly darted out from one side of 
 the road, and in an instant the well-known 
 ■words " Stand and deliver ! " were audibly pro- 
 nounced in the ears of the traveller. 
 
 Now it is a very different thing, and a much 
 more difficult thing, to deal in such a sort with 
 three gentlemen of the road, than with one; but 
 nevertheless, as we have before shown, Lennard 
 Sherbrooke was a stout man, nor was he at all
 
 THE king's highway. 59 
 
 a faint-hearted one. A pistol was instantly out 
 of one of the holsters, pointed, and fired, and 
 one of his assailants rolled over upon the ground, 
 horse and man together. His heavy sword was 
 free from the sheath the moment after; and ex- 
 claiming, " Now there's but two of you, I can 
 manage you," he pushed on his horse against 
 the man who had seized his bridle, aiming 
 a very unpleasant sort of oblique cut at the 
 worthy personage's head, which, had it taken 
 effect, would probably have left him with a con- 
 siderable portion less of skull than that with 
 which he entered into the conflict. 
 
 Three things, however, happened almost 
 simultaneously, which gave a new aspect alto- 
 gether to affairs. The man upon Sherbrooke's 
 left hand fired a pistol at his head, but missed 
 liim in the darkness of the night. At the same 
 moment the other man at whom he was aiming 
 the blow, and who being nearer to him of 
 course saw better, parried it successfully, but 
 abstained from returning it, exclaiming, '' By 
 heavens ! I believe it is Lennard Sherbrooke !" 
 
 " If you had asked me," replied Sherbrooke,
 
 60 
 
 " I would have told you that long ago: pray 
 who are you?" 
 
 " I am Frank Bryerly," replied the man : 
 " hold your hands, hold your hands every one, 
 and let us see what mischief 's done ! Dick 
 Harrison, I believe, is down. Devilish unfor- 
 tunate, Sherbrooke, that you did not speak." 
 
 " Speak ! " returned Sherbrooke, " whatshould 
 I speak for? these are not times for speaking 
 over much." 
 
 " I am not hurt, I am not hurt," cried the 
 man called Harrison ; *' but hang him, I be- 
 lieve he has killed my horse, and the horse had 
 well nigh killed me, for he reared and went 
 over with me at the shot: — get up, brute, get 
 up," and he kicked the horse in the side to 
 make him rise. Up started the beast upon his 
 feet in a moment, trembling in every limb, but 
 still apparently not much hurt ; and upon ex- 
 amination it proved that the ball had struck 
 him in the fleshy part of the shoulder, pro- 
 ducing a long, but not a deep wound, and 
 probably causing the animal to rear by the 
 pain it had occasioned.
 
 THE king's highway. 61 
 
 As soon as this was explained satisfactorily, a 
 somewhat curious scene was presented by Len- 
 nard Sherbrooke, standing in the midst of his 
 assailants, and shaking hands with two of them 
 as old friends, while the third was presented to 
 him with all the form and ceremony of a new 
 introduction. But such things, al^s ! were not 
 uncommon in those days; and gentlemen of 
 high birth and education have been known to 
 take to the King's highway — not like Prince 
 Hal for sport, but for a mouthful of bread. 
 
 " Why, Frank," said Sherbrooke, addressing 
 the one who had seized his horse's rein, " how 
 is this, my good fellow?" 
 
 " Why, just like every thing else in the 
 world," replied the other in a gay tone. " I'm 
 at the down end of the great see-saw, Sher- 
 brooke, that's all. When last you knew me, I 
 was a gay Templer, in not bad practice, bam- 
 boozling the juries, deafening the judges, making 
 love to every woman I met, ruining the tavern- 
 keepers, and astounding the watch and the 
 chairmen. In short, Sherbrooke, very much 
 like yourself."
 
 62 THE king's highway. 
 
 '* ExactU', Frank," replied Sherbrooke, " my 
 own history within a letter or so : we were 
 always called the counterparts, you know ; but 
 what became of you after I left yon, a year and 
 a half ago, w^hen this Dutch skipper first came 
 over to usurp his father-in-law's throne?" 
 
 " Wh}', I did not take it quite so hotly as 
 you did," replied the other ; " but I remained 
 for some time after the king was gone, till I 
 heard he had come back to Ireland : then, of 
 course, I w^nt to join him, fiired with the rest, 
 lost every thing, and here I am — after having 
 been Templer, and then a captain in the king's 
 guards — doing the honours of the King's High- 
 way." 
 
 " Stupidly enough," replied Lennard Sher- 
 brooke; "for here the first thing that you do 
 is to attack a man who is just as likely to take 
 as to give, and ask for a man's money who 
 has but a guinea and a shilling in all the 
 world." 
 
 " I am but raw at the trade, I confess," re- 
 plied the other, " and we are none of us much 
 more learned. The truth is, we were only
 
 63 
 
 practising upon you, Sherbrooke, we expect 
 a much better prize to-morrow; but what say 
 you, if your condition be such, why not come 
 and take a turn upon the road with us ? It is 
 the most honourable trade going now-a-days. 
 Treason and treachery, indeed, carry off the 
 honours at court; but there are so many traitors 
 of one gang or another, that betraying one's 
 friend is become a vulgar calling. Take a 
 turn with us on the road, man ! take a turn 
 with us on the road !" 
 
 " Upon my soul," replied Sherbrooke, " I 
 think the plan not a bad one ; I believe if I 
 had met you alone, Frank, I should have tried 
 to rob you." 
 
 " Don't call it rob," replied Frank Bryerljr 
 " call it soliciting from, or relieving. But it is 
 a bargain, Sherbrooke, isn't it?" 
 
 Lennard Sherbrooke paused and thought for 
 a mom.ent, with the scattered remains of better 
 feelings, like some gallant party of a defeated 
 army trying still to rally and resist against the 
 overpowering force of adverse circumstances. 
 He thought, in that short moment, of what
 
 64 THE king's highway. 
 
 other course he could follow ; he turned his 
 eyes to the east and the west, to the north and 
 the south, for the chance of one gleam of hope, 
 for the prospect of any opening to escape. It 
 was in vain, his last hope had been trampled 
 out that night. He had not even money to fly, 
 and seek, on some other shore, the means of 
 support and existence. He had but sufficient 
 to support himself and his horse, and the poor 
 boy, for three or four more days. Imagination 
 pictured that poor boy's bright countenance, 
 looking up to him for food and help, and 
 finding none, and grasping Bryerly's hand, he 
 said, in a low voice, " It is a bargain. Where 
 and how shall I join you?" 
 
 " Oh !" replied the other, " we three are up 
 at Mudicot's inn, about four miles there : you 
 had better turn your horse and go back with 
 us." . 
 
 " No," replied Sherbrooke, " I have some 
 matters to settle at the little inn down there : 
 all that I have in the world is there, and that, 
 Heaven knows, is little enough ; I will join you 
 to-morrow."
 
 65 
 
 " Sherbrooke," said Bryerly, drawing him a 
 little on one side and speaking low, " I am a 
 rich man, you know : I have got ten guineas in 
 my pocket : you must share them with me." 
 
 Pride had already said " No !" but Bryerly 
 insisted, saying, " You can pay me in a day or 
 two." 
 
 Sherbrooke thought of the boy again, and 
 accepted the money ; and then bidding his com- 
 panions adieu for the time, he left them and 
 returned to the inn. 
 
 The poor boy, wearied out, had once more 
 fallen asleep where he sat, and Sherbrooke, 
 causing him to be put to bed, remained busily 
 writing till a late hour at night. 
 
 He then folded up and sealed carefully that 
 which he had written, together with a number 
 of little articles which he drew forth from the 
 portmanteau ; he then wrote some long direc- 
 tions on the back of the packet, and placing 
 the whole once more in the portmanteau, in a 
 place where it was sure to be seen, if any 
 inquisitive eye examined the contents of the re- 
 ceptacle, he turned the key and retired to rest. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 ^6 THE king's highway. 
 
 The whole of the following day he passed in 
 playing with and amusing little Wilton ; and 
 so much childish gaiety was there in his de- 
 meanour, that the man seemed as young as the 
 child. Towards evening, however, he again 
 ordered his horse to be brought out; and, 
 having paid the landlady for their accommo- 
 dation up to that time, he again left the boy in 
 her charge and put his foot in the stirrup. He 
 had kissed him several times before he did so ; 
 but a sort of yearning of the heart seemed to 
 come over him, and turning back again to the 
 door of the inn, he once more pressed him to 
 his heart, ere he departed.
 
 THE king's highway. 67 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Journeys were in those days at least treble the 
 length they are at present. It may be said 
 that the distance from London to York, or from 
 Carlisle to Berwick, could never be above a 
 certain length. Measured by a string probably 
 such would have been the case ; but if the 
 reader considers how much more sand, gravel, 
 mud, and clay, the wheels of a carriage had to 
 go through in those days, he will easily see how 
 it was the distances were so protracted. 
 
 At all events, fifty or sixty miles was a long, 
 laborious journey; and at whatever hour the 
 traveller might set out upon his way, he was 
 not likely to reach the end of it, without be-^ 
 coming a '* borrower from the night of a dark 
 hour or two." 
 
 Such was the case with the tenant of a large 
 cumbrous carriage, which, drawn heavily on by 
 F 2
 
 68 THE king's highway. 
 
 four stout horses, wended slowly on the King's 
 Highway, not very far from the spot where the 
 wooden gates that we have described raised 
 their white faces by the side of the road. 
 
 The panels of that carriage, as well as the 
 ornaments of the top thereof, bore the arms of 
 a British earl ; and there was a heavy and dig- 
 nified swagger about the vehicle itself, which 
 seemed to imply a consciousness even in the 
 wood and leather of the dignity of the person 
 within. He. for his own part, though a grace- 
 ful and very courtly personage, full of high 
 talent, policy, and wit, had nothing about him 
 at all of the pomposity of his vehicle ; and at 
 the moment which we refer to, namely, about 
 two hours after nightfall, tired with his long 
 journey, and sated with solitary thought, he had 
 drawn a fur-cap lightly over his head, and, lean- 
 ing back in the carriage, enjoyed not unpleasant 
 repose. 
 
 To be woke out of one's slumbers suddenly at 
 any time, or by any means, is a very unpleasant 
 sensation; but there are few occasions that we 
 can conceive, on which such an event is more
 
 THE king's highway. 69 
 
 disagreeable than when we are thus woke, to 
 find a pistol at our breast, and some one de- 
 manding our money. 
 
 The Earl of Sunbury was sleeping quietly 
 in his carriage with the most perfect feeling of 
 security, though those indeed were not very se- 
 cure times; when suddenly the carriage stopped, 
 and he started up. Scarcely, however, was he 
 awake to what was passing round, than the door 
 of the carriage was opened, and a man of gen- 
 tlemanly appearance, with a pistol in his right 
 hand, and his horse's bridle over the left arm, 
 presented himself to the eyes of the peer. At 
 the same time, through the opposite window of 
 the carriage, was seen another man on horse- 
 back; while the Earl judged, and judged rightly, 
 that there must be others of the same fraternity 
 at the heads of the horses, and the ears of the 
 postilions. 
 
 The Earl was usually cool and calm in his 
 demeanour under most of the circumstances of 
 life ; and he therefore asked the pistol-bearing 
 gentleman, much in the same tone that one 
 would ask one's way across the country, or re- 
 F 3
 
 70 THE king's highway. 
 
 ceive a visiter wliom we do not know, " Pray, 
 sir, what may be your pleasure with me?" 
 
 " I am very sorry to delay your lordship even 
 for a moment," replied the stranger, very much 
 in the same tone as that with which the Earl had 
 spoken ; " but I do it for the purpose of re- 
 questing, that you would disburden yourself of 
 a part of your baggage, which you can very well 
 spare, and which we cannot. I mean, my lord, 
 shortly and civilly, to say, that we must have 
 your money, and also any little articles of gold 
 and jewellery that may be about your person." 
 
 " Sir," replied the Earl, " you ask so cour- 
 teously, that I should be almost ashamed to 
 refuse you, even were your request not backed 
 by the soft solicitation of a pistol. There, sir, 
 is my purse, which probably is not quite so full 
 as you might desire, but is still worth something. 
 Then as to jewellery, my watch, seals, and these 
 trinkets are at j^our disposal. Farther than these 
 I have but this ring, for which I have a very great 
 regard ; and I wish that some way could be pointed 
 out by which I might be able to redeem it at a 
 future time : it may be worth some half dozen
 
 THE king's highway. 71 
 
 guineas, but certain!}^ not more, to any other 
 than myself. In my eyes, however, it only ap- 
 pears as a precious gage of old affection, given 
 to me in my youth by one I loved, and which 
 jias remained still upon my finger, till age has 
 wintered my hair." 
 
 " I beg that you will keep the ring," replied 
 the highwayman ; " you have given enough 
 already, my lord, and we thank you." 
 
 He was now retiring with a bow, and closing 
 the door, but the Earl stopped him, saying, in a 
 tone of some feeling, "I beg your pardon; but 
 your manner, language, and behaviour, are so 
 different from all that might be expected under 
 such circumstances, that I cannot but think 
 necessity more than inclination has driven you 
 to a dangerous pursuit." 
 
 " Your lordship thinks right," replied the 
 highwaym^an : " I am a poor gentleman, of a 
 house as noble as your own, but have felt the 
 hardships of these times more severely than 
 most." 
 
 He was again about to retire; but the Earl 
 once more spoke, saying, *' Your behaviour to 
 F 4
 
 72 THE KING*S HIGHWAY. 
 
 me, sir, especially about this ring, has been such 
 that, without asking impertinent questions, I 
 would fain serve you. — Can I do it?" 
 
 " I fear not, my lord, I fear not," replied the 
 stranger. Then seeming to recollect himself, 
 with a sudden start, he approached nearer to 
 the carriage, saying, " I had forgot — you can, 
 my lord ! — you can." 
 
 " In what manner?" demanded the peer. 
 " That I cannot tell your lordship here and 
 now," replied the highwayman : " time is want- 
 ing, and, doubtless, my companions' patience is 
 worn away already." 
 
 " Well," replied the Earl, " if you will ven- 
 ture to call upon me at my own house, some 
 ten miles hence, which, as you know me, you 
 probably know also, I will hear all you have to 
 say, serve you if I can, and will take care that 
 you come and go with safety." 
 
 " I offer you a thousand thanks, my lord,** 
 replied the other, *' and will venture as fear- 
 lessly as I would to my own chamber." * 
 
 * It may be interesting to the reader to know that the 
 ■whole of this scene, even to a great part of the dialogue, actually 
 took place in the beginning of the reign of William III.
 
 THE king's highway. 73 
 
 Thus saying, he drew back and closed the 
 door; and then making a signal to his com- 
 panions to withdraw from the heads of the 
 horses, he bade the postilions drive on, and 
 sprang upon his own beast. 
 
 " What have you got, Lennard ? what have 
 you got?" demanded the man who was at the 
 other door of the carriage : " what have you got 
 — you have had a long talk about it?" 
 
 " A heavy purse," replied Sherbrooke: " what 
 the contents are, I know not — a watch, a chain, 
 and three gold seals. — I'm almost sorry that I 
 did this thing." 
 
 " Sorry !" cried the other; " why you insisted 
 upon doing it yourself, and would let no other 
 take the first adventure out of your hands." 
 
 " I did not mean that," replied Sherbrooke, 
 " I did not mean that at all ! If the thing were 
 to be done, and I standing by, I might as well 
 do it as see you do it. What I mean is, that I am 
 sorry for having taken the man's money at all ! " 
 
 " Pshaw ! " replied the other : " you forget 
 that he is one of the enemy, or rather, I should 
 say, a traitor to his king, to his native-born
 
 74 THE king's highway. 
 
 prince, and therefore is fair game for every true 
 subject of King James." 
 
 " He stood by him a long time," replied 
 Sherbrooke, " for all that — as long, and longer 
 than the King stood by himself." 
 
 " Never mind, never mind, Colonel," said 
 one of the others, who had come up by this 
 time ; '' you wo'n't need absolution for what's 
 been done to-night; and I would bet a guinea 
 to a shilling, that if you ask any priest in all the 
 land, he will tell you, that you have done a 
 good deed instead of a bad; but let us get back 
 to the inn as quick as we can, and see what the 
 purse contains." 
 
 The road which the Earl of Sunbury was 
 pursuing passed the very inn to which the 
 men who had lightened him of his gold were 
 going; but there was a back bridle-path through 
 some thick woods to the right of the road, which 
 cut off a full mile of the way, and along this 
 the four keepers of the King's Highway urged 
 their horses at full speed, endeavouring, as was 
 natural under such circumstances, to gallop 
 away reflection, which, in spite of all that they
 
 THE king's highway. 75 
 
 assumed, was not a pleasant companion to any 
 of the four. It very often happens that the ex- 
 hilaration of success occupies so entirely the por- 
 tion of time during which remorse for doing a 
 bad action is most ready to strike us, that we are 
 ready to commit the same error again, before the 
 last murmurs of conscience have time to make 
 themselves heard. Those who wish to drown 
 her first loud remonstrances give full way and 
 eager encouragement to that exhilaration ; and 
 now, each of the men whom we have mentioned, 
 except Sherbrooke, went on encouraging their 
 wild gaiety, leaping the gates that here and 
 there obstructed their passage, instead of opening 
 them ; and in the end arriving at the inn a full 
 quarter of an hour before the carriage of the 
 Earl passed the house on its onward wa}'. 
 
 The vehicle stopped there for a minute 
 or two, to give the horses hay and water ; and 
 much was the clamour amongst the servants, 
 the postilions, and the ostlers, concerning the 
 daring robbery that had been committed ; but 
 the postilions of those days, and eke the keepers 
 of inns, were wise people in their generation,
 
 76 THE king's highway. 
 
 and discreet withal. They talked loudly of the 
 horror, the infamy, and the shamefulness, of 
 making the King's Highway a place of general 
 toll and contribution; but still they abstained 
 most scrupulously from taking any notice of 
 gentlemen who were out late upon the road, 
 especially if they went on horseback.
 
 THE king's highway. 77 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 It was about two days after the period of which 
 we have spoken, when the Earl of Sunbury, 
 caring very Httle for the loss he had met with 
 on the road, and thinking of it merely as one 
 of those unpleasant circumstances which occur 
 to every man now and then, sat in his library 
 with every sort of comfort and splendour about 
 him, enjoying in dignified ease the society of 
 mighty spirits from the past, m those works 
 which have given and received an earthly im- 
 mortality. His hand was upon Sallust; and 
 having just been reading the awful lines which 
 present in Catiline the type of almost every 
 great conspirator, he raised his eyes and gazed 
 on vacancy, calling up with little labour^ as it 
 were, a substantial image to his mind's eye of 
 him whom the great historian had displayed. 
 The hour was about nine o'clock at night,
 
 78 THE king's highway. 
 
 and the windows w^ere closed, when suddenly 
 a loud ringing of the bell made itself heard, 
 even in the Earl's library. As the person who 
 came, by applying at the front entrance, evi- 
 dently considered himself a visiter of the Earl, 
 that nobleman placed his hand upon the open 
 page of the book and waited for a farther an- 
 nouncement with a look of vexation, muttering 
 to himself, " This is very tiresome : I thought, 
 at all events, I should have had a few days of 
 tranquillity and repose.'* 
 
 " A gentleman, my lord," said one of the 
 servants entering, " is at the gate, and wishes 
 to speak with your lordship." 
 
 " Have you asked what is his business?" de- 
 manded the Earl. 
 
 " He will not mention it, my lord," replied 
 the servant, " nor give his name either; but he 
 says your lordship told him to call upon you." 
 
 " Oh ! admit him, admit him," said the peer; 
 put a chair there, and bring some chocolate." 
 
 After putting the chair, the man retired, and 
 a moment after returned, saying, " The gentle- 
 man, my lord.'*
 
 THE king's highway. 79 
 
 The door opened wide, and the tall fine 
 form of Lennard Sherbrooke entered, leading 
 by the hand the beautiful boy whom we have 
 before described, who now gazed about him 
 with a look of awe and surprise. 
 
 Little less astonishment was visible on the 
 countenance of the Earl himself; and until the 
 door was closed by the servant, he continued to 
 gaze alternately upon Sherbrooke and the boy, 
 seeming to find in the appearance of each much 
 matter for wonder." 
 
 " Do me the favour of sitting down," he said 
 at len2:th : " I think I have had the advantage 
 of seeing you before." 
 
 " Once, my lord," replied Sherbrooke, '' and 
 then it must have been but dimly." 
 
 " Not more than once?" demanded the Earlr 
 "your face is somewhat familiar to me, and I 
 think I could connect it with a name." 
 
 " Connect it with none, my lord," said Sher- 
 brooke : " that name is at an end, at least for a 
 time: the person for whom you take me is no 
 more. I should have thought that you knew 
 such to be the case."
 
 80 THE KING*S HIGHWAY. 
 
 " I did, indeed, hear," said the Earl, " that 
 he was killed at the Boyne ; but still the like- 
 ness is so great, and my acquaintance with him 
 
 was so slight, that " 
 
 " He died at the Boyne, my lord," said 
 Sherbrooke, looking down, " in a cause which 
 was just, though the head and object of that 
 cause was unworthy of connection with it." 
 The Earl's cheek grew a little red ; but Sher- 
 brooke continued, with a slight laugh, " I did 
 not, however, come here, my lord, to offend 
 you with my view of politics. We have only 
 once met, my lord, that I know of in life, but I 
 have heard you kindly spoken of by those I 
 loved and honoured. You, yourself, told me, 
 that if you could serve me you would ; and I 
 come to claim fulfilment of that offer, though 
 what I request may seem both extraordinary 
 and extravagant to demand." 
 
 The Earl bent down his eyes upon the table, 
 and drew his lips in somewhat close, for he in 
 no degree divined what request was coming; 
 and he was much too old a politician to encou- 
 rage applications, the very proposers of which
 
 THE king's highway. 81 
 
 announced them as extravagant. " May I 
 ask," he said, at length, " what it is you have 
 to propose? I am quite ready to do any rea- 
 sonable thing for your service, as I promised 
 upon an occasion to which I need not farther 
 refer." 
 
 Three servants at that moment entered the 
 room, with chocolate, long cut slices of toast, 
 and cold water; and the conversation being 
 thus interrupted, the Earl invited his two guests 
 to partake ; and calling the boy to him, fondled 
 him for some moments at his knee, playing 
 with the clustering curls of his bright hair, 
 and asking him many little kindly questions 
 about his sports and pastimes. 
 
 The boy looked up in his face well pleased, 
 and answered with so much intelligence, and 
 such winning grace, that the Earl, employing 
 exactly the same caress that Sherbrooke had 
 often done before, parted the fair hair on his 
 forehead, and kissed his lofty brow. 
 
 When the servants were gone, Sherbrooke 
 instantly resumed the conversation. " My 
 request, my lord," he said, " is to be a very 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 
 
 strange one; a request that will put you to 
 some expense, though not a very great one; 
 and will give you some trouble, though, would 
 to God both the trouble and expense could be 
 imdertaken by myself." 
 
 " Perhaps," said the Earl, turning his eyes 
 to the boy, '•' it may be better, sir, that we 
 speak alone for a minute or two. I am now 
 sure that I cannot be mistaken in the person to 
 whom I speak, although I took you at first for 
 one that is no more. We will leave your son 
 here, and he can amuse himself with this book 
 of pictures." 
 
 Thus saying he rose, patted the boy's head, and 
 pointed out the book he referred to. He then 
 threw open a door between that room and the 
 next, which was a large saloon, well lighted, 
 and having led the way thither with Sher- 
 brooke, he held with him a low but earnest 
 conversation for some minutes. 
 
 " Well, sir," he said at length, " well, sir, I 
 will not, and must not refuse, though it places 
 me in a strange and somewhat difficult situa- 
 tion ; but indeed, indeed, I wish you would
 
 THE king's highway. 83 
 
 listen to my remonstrances. Abandon a hope- 
 less, and what, depend upon it, is an unjust 
 cause, — a cause which the only person who 
 could gain by it has abandoned and betrayed ; 
 yield to the universal voice of the people ; 
 or if you cannot co-operate with the go- 
 vernment that the popular voice has called 
 to power, at all events submit ; and, I doubt 
 not in the least, that if, coupled with promises 
 and engagements to be a peaceful subject, you 
 
 claim the titles and estates " 
 
 "My lord, it cannot be," replied Sherbrooke, 
 interrupting him: "you forget that I belong 
 to the Catholic church. However, you will 
 remember our agreement respecting the papers, 
 and other things which I shall deposit with you 
 this night : they are not to be given to him till 
 he is of age, under any circumstances, except 
 that of the King's restoration, when you may 
 immediately make them public." 
 
 As he spoke, he was turning away to return 
 
 to the library ; but the Earl stopped him, saying, 
 
 *' Stay yet one moment : would it not be better 
 
 to give me some farther explanations ? and have 
 
 G 2
 
 84 THE king's highway. 
 
 you nothing to say with regard to the boy's 
 education ? for you must remember how I, too, 
 am situated." 
 
 " I have no farther explanations to give, my 
 lord," replied Sherbrooke ; " and as to the 
 boy's education, I must leave it entirely with 
 yourself. Neither on his religious or his political 
 education will I say a word. In regard to the 
 latter, indeed, I may beg you to let him hear 
 the truth, and, reading what is written on both 
 sides, to judge for himself. Farther I have 
 nothing to say." 
 
 " But you will understand," replied the other, 
 with marked emphasis, " that I cannot and do 
 not undertake to educate him as I would a son 
 of my own. He shall have as good an edu- 
 cation as possible ; he shall be fitted, as far as 
 my judgment can go, for any station in the 
 state, to enter any gentlemanly profession, and 
 to win his way for himself by his own exertions. 
 But you cannot and must not expect that I 
 should accustom him to indulgence or expense 
 in any way that the unfortunate circumstances 
 in which he is placed may render beyond his
 
 THE king's highway. 85 
 
 power to attain, when you and I are no longer 
 in being to support or aid him." 
 
 " You judge wisely, my lord," replied Sher- 
 brooke, "and in those respects I trust him 
 entirely to you, feeling too deeply grateful for 
 the relief you have given me from this over- 
 powering anxiety, to cavil at any condition that 
 you may propose." 
 
 " I have only one word more to say," replied 
 the Earl, " which is, if you please, I would prefer 
 putting down on paper the conditions and cir- 
 cumstances under which I take the boy : we will 
 both sign the paper, which may be for the secu- 
 rity of us both." 
 
 Sherbrooke agreed without hesitation; and on 
 their return to the library, the Earl wrote for 
 some time, while his companion talked with 
 and caressed the boy. When the Earl had 
 done, he handed one of the papers he had 
 written to Sherbrooke, who read it attentively, 
 and then signing it returned it to the Earl. 
 That nobleman, in the mean time, had signed a 
 counterpart of the paper which he now gave to 
 Sherbrooke ; and the latter, taking from his 
 G 3
 
 86 THE king's highway. 
 
 pocket the small packet of various articles which 
 we have seen him make up at the inn before he 
 went out on the very expedition which pro- 
 duced his present visit to the Earl, gave it 
 into the peer's hands, who put his seal upon it 
 also. 
 
 This done, a momentary pause ensued, and 
 Leniiard Sherbrooke gazed wistfully at the 
 boy. A feeling of tenderness, which he could 
 not repress, gained upon his heart as he gazed, 
 and seemed to overpower him; for tears came 
 up, and dimmed his sight. At length he 
 dashed them away ; and taking the boy up in 
 his arms, he pressed him fondly to his bosom ; 
 kissed him twice ; set him down again ; and 
 then, turning to the Earl, with a brow on which 
 strong resolution was seen struggling with deep 
 emotion, he said, " Thank you, my lord, thank 
 you ! " 
 
 It was all he could say, and turning away 
 hastily, he quitted the room. The Earl rang 
 the bell, and ordered the servant to see that the 
 gentleman's horse was brought round. He then 
 turned and gazed upon the boy with a look of
 
 THE KING*S HIGHWAY. 87 
 
 interest ; but little Wilton seemed perfectly 
 happy, and was still looking over the book of 
 paintings which the Earl had given to him to 
 examine. 
 
 " What can this be ? " thought the Earl, as 
 he looked at him ; " can there be perfect insen- 
 sibility under that fair exterior ? '* And taking 
 the boy by the hand he drew him nearer. 
 
 " Are you not sorry he is gone ? " the noble- 
 man asked. 
 
 " Oh ! he will not be long away," replied the 
 boy : " he will come back in an hour or two as 
 he always does, and will look at me as I lie in 
 bed, and kiss me, and tell me to sleep soundly." 
 
 " Poor boy ! " said the Earl, in a tone that 
 made the large expressive eyes rise towards his 
 face with a look of inquiry. '' You must not 
 expect him to be back to-night, my boy. Now 
 tell me what is your name ? " 
 
 "Wilton," replied the boy ; but remembering 
 that that was not sufficient to satisfy a stranger, 
 he added, "Wilton Brown. — But how long 
 will it be before he comes back ? " 
 G 4
 
 88 THE king's highway. 
 
 " I do not know," replied the Earl, evading 
 his question. " How old are you, Wilton ? " 
 
 " I am past eight," replied the boy. 
 
 " Happily, an age of quick forgetfalness ! " 
 said the Earl, in a low tone to himself; and then 
 applying his thoughts to make the boy comfort- 
 able for the night, he rang for his housekeeper, 
 and gave her such explanations and directions 
 as he thought fit.
 
 THE king's highway. 8& 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 There is a strange and terrible difference, in 
 this world, between the look forward and the 
 look back. Like the cloud that went before 
 the hosts of the children of Israel, when they 
 fled from the land of Egypt, an inscrutable fate 
 lies before us, hiding with a dark and shadowy 
 veil the course of every future day : while behind 
 us the wide-spread past is open to the view; 
 and as we mark the steps that we have taken, 
 we can assign to each its due portion of pain, 
 anxiety, regret, remorse, repose, or joy. Yet 
 how short seems the past to the recollection of 
 each mortal man ! how long, and wide, and 
 interminable, is the cloudy future to the gaze 
 of imagination ! 
 
 Many years had passed since the eventful 
 night recorded in our last chapter ; and to the 
 boy, Wilton Brown, all that memory comprised
 
 90 THE king's highway. 
 
 seemed but one brief short hour out of life's 
 long day. 
 
 The Earl of Sunbury had fulfilled what he 
 had undertaken towards him, exactly and con- 
 scientiously. He was a man, as we have shown, 
 of kindly feelings, and of a generous heart; al- 
 though he was a politician, a courtier, and a man 
 of the world. He might, too — had not some 
 severe checks and disappointments crushed 
 many of the gentler feelings of his heart — he 
 might, too, have been a man of warm and enthu- 
 siastic affections. As it was, however, he guard- 
 ed himself in general very carefully against 
 such feelings, acted liberally and kindly ; but 
 never promised more, or did more, than pru- 
 dence consented to, were the temptation ever so 
 strong. 
 
 He had promised Lennard Sherbrooke that 
 he would take the boy, and give him a good 
 education, would befriend him in life, and do 
 all that he could to serve him. He kept his 
 word, as we have said, to the letter. During 
 the first six weeks, after he had engaged in this 
 task, he saw the boy often in the course of
 
 THE king's highway. 91 
 
 every day ; grew extremely fond of him ; took 
 him to London, when his own days of repose in 
 the country were past; and solaced many an 
 hour, when he returned home fatigued with 
 business, by listening to the boy's prattle, and 
 by playing with, as it were, the fresh and in- 
 telligent mind of the young being now depend- 
 ent upon him for all things. 
 
 It is a false and a mistaken notion altogether, 
 that men of great mind and intense thought 
 are easily wearied or annoyed by the presence 
 of children. The man who is wearied with 
 children must always be childish himself in 
 mind; but, alas ! not young in heart. He must 
 be light, superficial, though perhaps inquiring 
 and intelligent; but neither gentle in spirit nor 
 fresh in feeling. Such men must always soon 
 become wearied with children ; for very great 
 similarity of thought and of mind — the paradox 
 is but seeming — is naturally wearisome in an- 
 other ; while, on the contrary, similarity of feel- 
 ing and of heart is that bond which binds our 
 affections together. Where both similarities are 
 combined, we may be most happy in the society
 
 92 
 
 of our counterpart ; but where the link between 
 the hearts is wanting there will always be great 
 tediousness in great similarity. 
 
 Thus the Earl of Sunbury, though, Heaven 
 knows, no man on earth could be less childish 
 in his keen and calculating thoughts, or in all 
 his ordinary habits and occupations, yet found 
 a relief, and an enjoyment, in talking with the 
 boy, in eliciting all his fresh and picturesque 
 ideas, and in marking the train and course which 
 thought naturally takes before it is tutored to 
 follow the direction of art. His own heart — for 
 a man of the world — was very fresh; but still 
 the worldly mind ruled it when it w^ould ; and 
 the moment that he began to find that the boy 
 might become too much endeared, and too ne- 
 cessary to him, he determined to deprive him- 
 self of the present pleasure, rather than risk the 
 future inconvenience. 
 
 He accordingly determined to send the boy 
 to school, and little Wilton heard the announce- 
 ment with pleasure; for though by this time he 
 had become greatly attached to the Earl, he 
 longed for the society of beings of the same age
 
 THE king's highway. 93 
 
 and habits as himself. When he was with the 
 Earl he saw that nobleman was interested with 
 him, but he saw that he was amused with him 
 too ; and in this respect children are very like 
 that noblest of animals, the dog. Any one who 
 has remarked a dog when people jest with him, 
 and speak to him mockingly, must have seen 
 that the creature is not wholly pleased, that he 
 seems as if made to feel a degree of inferiority. 
 Such also is the case with children ; and little 
 Wilton felt that the Earl was making a sort of 
 playful investigation of his mind, even while he 
 was jesting with him. I have said felt, because 
 it was feeling, not thought, that discovered it; 
 and, therefore, though he loved the Earl not- 
 withstanding all this, he was glad to go where 
 he heard there were many such young beings 
 as himself. 
 
 The Earl did not think him ungrateful on 
 account of the open expression of his delight. 
 He saw it all, and understood it all ; for he had 
 very few of the smaller selfishnesses, which so 
 frequently blind our eyes to the most obvious 
 facts which impinge against our own vanities.
 
 94 THE king's highway. 
 
 His was a high and noble mind, chained and 
 thralled by manifold circumstances and acci- 
 dents to the dull pursuits of worldly ambitions. 
 One trait, however, may display his character : 
 lie had practised in regard to the boy a piece of 
 that high delicacy of feeling of which none but 
 great men are capable. He had learned and 
 divined, from the short conversation which 
 had taken place between himself and Lennard 
 Sherbrooke, sufficient in regard to the boy*s un- 
 fortunate situation to guide his conduct in re- 
 spect to him; and now, even when alone with 
 him in his own drawing-room or library, he asked 
 no farther questions ; he pryed not at all into 
 what had gone before ; and though the youth 
 occasionally prattled of the wild Irish shores, 
 and the cottage where he had been brought up, 
 the Earl merely smiled, but gave him no en- 
 couragement to say more. 
 
 At length, Wilton Brown went to school; 
 and as the Earl gradually lost a part of that 
 interest in him which had given prudence the 
 alarm, time had its effect on Wilton also, draw- 
 ing one thin airy film after another over the
 
 THE king's highway. 95 
 
 events of the past, not obliterating them ; but, 
 like the effect of distance upon substantial ob- 
 jects, gathering them together in less distinct 
 masses, and diminishing them both in size and 
 clearness. When the time approached for his 
 holidays, which were few and far between, he 
 was called to the Earl's house, and treated with 
 every degree of kindness; though with mere 
 boyhood went by boyhood's graces, and the lad 
 could not be fondled and played with as the 
 child. The Earl never did any thing to make 
 him feel that he was a dependant — no, not for 
 a single moment; but as the boy's mind ex- 
 panded, and as a certain degree of the know- 
 ledge of the world was "gained from the habits 
 of a public school, he explained to him, clearly 
 and straight-forwardly, that upon his own ex- 
 ertions he must rely for wealth, fame, and 
 honour. He told him, that in the country 
 where he lived, the road to fortune, dignity, 
 and power, was open to every man ; but that 
 road was filled with eager and unscrupulous 
 competitors, and obstructed in many parts by 
 obstacles difficult to be surmounted.
 
 96 THE king's highway. 
 
 " They can be surmounted, Wilton, how- 
 ever," he added ; " and with energy, activity, 
 and determination, that road can be trod, from 
 one end to the other, within the space of a single 
 life, and leave room for repose at the end. — 
 You have often seen," he continued, " a gen- 
 tleman who visits me here, who rose from a 
 station certainly not higher, or more fortunate 
 than your own, — who is called, even now, the 
 Great Lord Somers, and doubtless the same 
 name will remain with him hereafter. He is 
 an example for all men to follow; and his life 
 offers an encouragement for every sort of ex- 
 ertion. He rose even from a very humble station 
 of life, outstripped all competitors, and is now, 
 as you see, in the post of Lord Keeper, owing 
 no man any thing, but all to his own talents 
 and perseverance. The same may be the case 
 with you, Wilton. All that I can do, to place 
 you in the way of winning fortune and station 
 for yourself, I will do most willingly ; but in 
 every other respect you must keep in mind, 
 that you are to be the artisan of your own for- 
 tune, and shape your course accordingly."
 
 THE king's highway. 97 
 
 Such was the language held towards Wilton 
 Brown by the Earl, upon more than one occa- 
 sion ; and the boy took what he said to heart, 
 remembered, pondered it, and after much 
 thought and reflection formed the great and glo- 
 rious resolution of winning honour and renown, 
 by every exertion of his mind and body. It is 
 a resolution that may, perhaps, have often been 
 taken by those who ultimately have never suc- 
 ceeded in the attempt. It is a resolution from 
 vv'hich some may have been wiled away by 
 pleasure, or driven by accident. But it is a 
 resolution which no man who afterwards proved 
 great ever failed to take, ay, and to take early. 
 On the head of mediocrity : on the petty 
 statesmen who figure throughout two thirds of 
 the world's history ; on the tolerable generals 
 who conduct the ordinary wars of the world ; 
 on the small poets and the small philosophers 
 who fill up the ages that intervene between 
 great men, fortune and accident may shower 
 down the highest honours, the greatest power, 
 the most abundant wealth ; but the man who 
 in any pursuit has reached the height of real 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE king's highway. 
 
 greatness, has set out on his career with the 
 resolution of winning fame in despite of circum- 
 stances. 
 
 Such was the resolution which was taken, as 
 we have said, by Wilton Brown, and the effect 
 of that very resolution upon him, as a mere 
 lad, was to make him thoughtful, studious, and 
 different from any of the other youths of the 
 school, in habits and manners. 
 
 The change was beneficial in many respects, 
 even then. It made him strive to acquire 
 knowledge of every sort and kind that came 
 within his reach, and he always succeeded in 
 some degree. It made him cultivate every talent 
 which he felt that he possessed, and an accurate 
 eye and a musical ear were not neglected as far 
 as he could obtain instruction. He not only ac- 
 quired much knowledge, but also much facility 
 in acquiring ; and his eager and anxious zeal 
 did not pass unnoticed by those who taught 
 him, so that others contributed to his first suc- 
 cess, as well as his own efforts. 
 
 That first success was, perhaps, unexpected 
 by any one else. The period came, at which
 
 THE KING S HIGHWAY. 
 
 lie was barely qualified by age to strive in 
 competition with his schoolfellows, for one of 
 those many excellent opportunities afforded by 
 the kindness and wisdom of past ages, for ob- 
 taining a high education at one of the univer- 
 sities. He had never himself proposed to be 
 one of the competitors on this occasion, as there 
 was a year open before him to pursue his 
 studies, and there w^ere many boys at the school 
 far older than himself. 
 
 The Earl had not an idea that such a thing 
 would take place, as Wilton himself had always 
 expressed the utmost anxiety to pursue a mili- 
 tary career. He had never, indeed, even 
 pressed him to adopt another pursuit, although 
 he had pointed out to his 'protege^ that his own 
 influence lay almost entirely in the political 
 world ; and his surprise, therefore, was very 
 great, when he heard that Wilton, at the sug- 
 gestion of the head master, had presented 
 himself for examination on this very first occa- 
 sion, and had carried off the highest place from 
 all his competitors. 
 
 On his arrival jn London he received him 
 
 H %
 
 100 THE king's highway. 
 
 with delight, showered upon him praises, and 
 fitted him out liberally for his first appearance 
 at the University. 
 
 Here, however, Wilton's first fortune seemed 
 to abandon him. About six months after his 
 matriculation, he had the grief to hear that the 
 Earl had been thrown from his horse in hunt- 
 ing, and received various severe injuries. He 
 hastened to one of his country seats, where that 
 nobleman had been sojourning for the time, 
 but found him a very different man from that 
 which he had appeared before. He was not ill 
 enough to need or to desire nursing and ten- 
 dance, but he was quite ill enough to be irritable, 
 impatient, and selfish ; for it is a strange fact, 
 that the very condition which renders us the 
 most dependent on our fellow-creatures too 
 often renders us likewise indifferent to their 
 comfort, in our absorbing consideration of our 
 own. Although he could sit up and walk 
 about, and go forth into his gardens, yet he 
 suffered great pain, which did not seem to 
 diminish ; and a frequent spitting of blood 
 rendered him impatient and querulous, when-
 
 THE king's highway. 101 
 
 ever his lowest words were not instantly heard 
 and comprehended. 
 
 It was a painful lesson to the youth he had 
 brought up; and when the time for Wilton's re- 
 turn to Oxford arrived, and the Earl, with 
 seeming satisfaction, put him in mind that it 
 was time to go, the young gentleman, in truth., 
 felt it a relief from a situation in which he 
 neither well knew how to satisfy himself, or to 
 satisfy the invalid, towards whom he was so 
 anxious to show his gratitude. 
 
 He returned, then, to the university, where 
 the allowance made him by the Earl, of two 
 hundred per annum, together with the little 
 income which a successful competition at school 
 had placed at his disposal, enabled him to 
 maintain the society of that class with which 
 he had always associated in life, and to do 
 so with ease to himself, though not without 
 economy.* The Earl had asked him twice, if 
 he had found the sum enough, and seemed 
 much pleased when Wilton had replied that it 
 
 * I think that the same was the college allowance of the 
 well-known Evelyn. 
 
 H 3
 
 102 THE king's highway. 
 
 was perfectly so. But from that expression he 
 easily divined, that had it been otherwise, the 
 Earl might liave said nothing reproachful, but 
 would not have been well satisfied. 
 
 Wilton did not mistake the motives of the 
 Earl : he knew him to be any thing but a 
 penurious man ; and he had long seen and been 
 aware of the motives on which that nobleman 
 acted towards him. He knew that it was with 
 a wish to give him every thing that was neces- 
 sary and appropriate to the situation in which 
 he was placed, but by no means to encourage 
 expensive habits, or desires which might unfit 
 him for the first laborious steps which he was 
 destined to tread in the path of life. He felt, 
 indeed, that there was an ambitious spirit in 
 his own heart, and it caused him many a 
 struggle in thought, to regulate its action ; to 
 guide it in the course of all that was good 
 and right, but resolutely to restrain it from 
 following any other path. "Ambition," he 
 thought, "is like a falcon, and must be trained 
 to fly only at what game I will. Its proud 
 spirit must be broken, to bend to this, and to
 
 THE king's highway. 103 
 
 submit to that ; to yield even to imaginary in- 
 dignities, provided they imply no sacrifice of 
 real honour, and to strive for no false show, 
 while I am striving for a greater object." 
 
 Thus passed a year, but during that time the 
 Earl's health had been in no degree improved ; 
 and a number of painful events had taken place 
 in his political course which had left his mind 
 more irritable than before, while continual suf- 
 fering had brought upon him a sort of despond- 
 ing recklessness, which made him cast behind 
 him altogether those things which he had pre- 
 viously considered the great objects of existence, 
 and desire nothing but to quit for ever the 
 scene of political strife, and pass the rest of his 
 days in peace, if not in comfort. 
 
 Such had been the state of his mind when 
 Wilton had last seen him in London, towards 
 the beginning of the year 1695; but the young 
 gentleman was somewhat surprised, about a 
 month afterwards, to receive a sudden summons 
 to visit the Earl in town, coupled with inform- 
 ation, that it was his friend's design immediately 
 to })roceed to Italy, on account of his health. 
 H 4
 
 104 THE king's highway. 
 
 The summons was very unexpected, as we have 
 implied; but the Earl informed him in his 
 letter that he was going without loss of time ; 
 and as the shortest way of reaching him, Wilton 
 determined to mount his horse at once, and 
 ride part of the way to London that night. Of 
 h.is journey, however, and its results, we will 
 speak in another chapter.
 
 THE king's highway. 105 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 That there are epochs in the life of every man, 
 when all the concurrent circumstances of for- 
 tune seem to form, as it were, a dam against 
 the current of his fate, and turn it completely 
 into another direction, when the trifling ac- 
 cident and the great event work together to 
 produce an entirely new combination around 
 him, no one who examines his own history, 
 or marks attentively the history of others, can 
 doubt for a moment. It is very natural, too, 
 to believe that there are at those moments 
 indications in our own hearts — from the deep 
 latent sympathies which exist between every 
 part of nature and the rest — that the changes 
 which reason and observation do not point out 
 are about to take place in our destiny : for is 
 it to be supposed, that when the fiat has gone
 
 106 THE king's highway. 
 
 forth which alters a being's whole course of 
 existence — when the electric touch has been 
 communicated to one end of the long chain of 
 cause and effect which forms the fate of every 
 individual being — is it to be supposed that it 
 will not tremble to its most remote link, espe- 
 cially towards that point where the greatest ac- 
 tion is to take place ? 
 
 There come upon us, it seems to me, in those 
 times, fits of musing far deeper and more in- 
 tense, excitability of feeling — perhaps of 
 imagination too — more acute than at any other 
 time. Perhaps, also, a determination, an 
 energy of will is added, necessary to carry us 
 through, with power and firmness, the struggle, 
 or the change, or the temptation that awaits us. 
 
 When Nelson stood upon the quarter-deck 
 of his ship, but a few minutes before the last 
 great victory that closed a career of glory, he 
 felt and expressed a sense that his last hour 
 was come, that the great and final change of 
 fate was near, and that but a few moments 
 remained for the accomplishment of his destiny. 
 But the indication was given to a mind that
 
 THE king's highway. 107 
 
 could employ it nobly; and he to whom the 
 foreshadowing oF his fate had been afforded, 
 even as a boy — when he determined that he 
 would, and felt that he could, be a hero — in 
 that last moment, when he knew that the hero's 
 life was done, determined to die as he had lived, 
 and used the prescience of his coming death 
 but to promote the objects for which he had 
 existed. 
 
 There may be some men who would say 
 these things are not natural ; but if we could 
 see all the fine relationships of one being to 
 another, if the mortal eye refined could view 
 the unsubstantial as well as the substantial 
 world, could mark the keen sympathies and 
 near associations, and all the essences which fill 
 up the apparent gaps between being and being, 
 we should see, undoubtedly, that these things 
 are most natural, and wonder at the blindness 
 with which we have walked in darkling igno- 
 rance through the thronged and multitudinous 
 universe. 
 
 It was somewhat late in the afternoon when 
 Wilton Brown put his foot in the stirrup, and
 
 108 THE king's highway. 
 
 set off to ride towards London. He did not 
 hope to reach the metropolis that night, but he 
 intended to go as far as he could, so as to 
 insure his arrival before the hour of the Earl's 
 breakfast on the following morning. He had 
 ridden his horse somewhat hard during the 
 morning before he had received the summons 
 to town, and he consequently now set out at a 
 slow pace. Not to weary the noble beast was, 
 in truth, and in reality, his motive ; but there 
 was, at the same time, in his mind, a temporary 
 inclination to deep and intense thought, which 
 he could by no means shake off, and which 
 naturally disposed him to a slow and equable 
 pace. 
 
 The sudden announcement of the Earl's de- 
 termination to go abroad, without any intima- 
 tion that the young man whom he had fostered 
 from youth to manhood was to accompany him, 
 or to follow him to the Continent, might very 
 well set Wilton musing on his circumstances 
 and his prospects ; but that was not the cause 
 of his meditative mood on the present occasion, 
 though it was the immediate cause of his giving
 
 109 
 
 way to it. In truth, the inclination, which he 
 felt to low, desponding, though deep and clear 
 thought, had pursued him for the last four-and- 
 twenty hours, and it was to cast it off, that he had 
 in fact ridden so hard that very morning. Now, 
 however, he found it necessary to yield to it; 
 and as he rode along, he gave up his mind 
 entirely to the consideration of the past, of the 
 present, and the future. 
 
 The Earl had announced to him at once in 
 his letter that he was about to leave England, 
 but he had made no reference whatsoever to 
 the future fate of him whom he had hitherto 
 protected and supported. Was that protection 
 and support still to continue ? Wilton asked 
 himself His friend had told him that he was 
 to win his way in the world, and was the 
 struggle now to begin ? The next question 
 that came, was, naturally, who and what am I 
 then? and his thoughts plunged at once into 
 a gulf where they had often lost themselves 
 before. 
 
 His boyhood had passed away unheeding, 
 and he had attached no importance to his pre-
 
 110 THE king's highway. 
 
 vioLis fate, nor made any effort to impress upon 
 his own recollection the circumstances which 
 preceded the period of his reception into the 
 Earl's house. Indeed, he had never thought 
 much upon the matter, till at length, when he 
 had reached the age of fifteen, the Earl had 
 kindly and judiciously spoken with him upon 
 his future prospects, and in order to stimulate 
 him to exertion, had pointed out to him that 
 his fortunes depended on himself. He had 
 then, for the first time, asked himself, "Who 
 and what am I ? " and had striven to recollect 
 as much as possible of the past, in order to 
 gather thence some knowledge of the present. 
 His efforts had not been very successful. 
 
 Time, the great destroyer, envies even me- 
 mory the power of preserving images of the 
 things that he has done away or altered ; and 
 he is sure, if possible, to deface the pictures 
 altogether, or to leave the lines less clear. 
 With Wilton he had done much to blot out 
 and to confuse. At first memory seemed all 
 a blank beyond the period of his schoolboy 
 days; but gradually one image after another
 
 THE king's highway. Ill 
 
 rose out of the void, and one called up another 
 as they came. Still they were clouded and in- 
 distinct, like the vague phantoms of a dream. 
 It was ■with great difficulty that he recollected 
 any names, and could not at all tell in what 
 land it was, that some of the brightest of his 
 memories lay. It was all unconnected, too, 
 with the present, and from it Wilton could 
 derive no clue in regard to the great change 
 that was coming. Between him and the future 
 there appeared to hang a dark pall, which his 
 eye could not penetrate, but behind which was 
 Fate. He tried to combat such feelings : he 
 tried long, as he rode, to conquer them ; to put 
 them down by the powei- of a vigorous mind ; 
 to overthrow sensation by thought. 
 
 When, however, he found that he could not 
 succeed, when, after many efforts, the oppression 
 — for I will not call it despondency — remained 
 still as powerful as ever, he mentally turned, 
 as if to face an enemy that pursued him, and 
 to gaze full upon the inevitable power it- 
 self, all the more awful as it was, in the misty 
 grandeur which shrouded the frowning features
 
 112 
 
 from his view. He nerved his heart, too, and 
 resolved, whatever it might be that was in store 
 for him, whatever might be the change, the 
 loss, the adversity, which all his sensations 
 seemed to prophesy, that he would bear it with 
 unshrinking courage, with resolute determin- 
 ation, nay, with what was still more with one of 
 his disposition, with unmurmuring patience. 
 
 In the mean while, however, he strove as he 
 went along to persuade himself that the pre- 
 sentiment was but the work of fancy ; that 
 there was nothing real in it; that he had ex- 
 cited himself to fears and apprehensions that 
 were groundless ; that the expedition of the 
 Earl to Italy was but a temporary undertaking, 
 and that it would most probably make no 
 change in his situation, no alteration in his 
 fortunes. 
 
 Thus thought he, as he rode slowly onward, 
 when, at the distance of about a quarter of a 
 mile, he perceived another horseman, proceeding 
 at a pace perhaps still slower than his own. The 
 aspect of the country between Oxford and Lon- 
 don was as different in that day from that
 
 THE king's highway. 113 
 
 which it is at present as it is possible to con- 
 ceive. There is nothing in all England — with 
 all the changes which have taken place, in man- 
 ners, morals, feelings, arts, sciences, produce, 
 manufactures, and government — which has 
 undergone so great a change, as the high roads 
 of the empire during the last hundred and 
 fifty years. No one can now tell, where the roads 
 which lay between this place and that then ran. 
 They have been dug into, ploughed up, turned 
 hither and thither, changed into canals, or 
 swallowed up in railroads. The face of the 
 country, too, has been altered, by many a vil- 
 lage built, and many an old mansion pulled 
 down, long tracts of country brought into cul- 
 tivation, and deep plantations of old trees 
 shadowing that ground which in those days v/as 
 unwholesome marsh, or barren moor. Even 
 Hounslow Heath, beloved by many of the 
 frequenters of the King's Highway, has disap- 
 peared mider the spirit of cultivation, and left 
 no trace of places where many a daring deed 
 was done. 
 
 However that may be, the road which the 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 
 
 young traveller was following lay not at all in 
 the direction taken by either of the present 
 roads to Oxford; but at a short distance from 
 High Wycombe turned off to the right — that 
 is, supposing the traveller to be going towards 
 London — and approached the banks of the 
 Thames not far from Marlow. In so doing, 
 it passed over a long range of high hills, and 
 a wide extent of flat, common ground upon 
 the top, which was precisely the point whereat 
 Wilton Brown had arrived, at the very moment 
 we began this digression upon the state of the 
 King's Highways in those times. 
 
 This common ground of which we speak 
 was as bleak as well might be, for the winds 
 of heaven had certainly room to visit it as 
 roughly as they chose ; it was also uncultivated, 
 and yet it cannot be said to have been un- 
 productive; for, probably, there never was a 
 space of ground of equal size, unless it were 
 Maidenhead Thicket, which could show so rich 
 and luxuriant a crop of gorse, heath, and fern. 
 For a shelter to the latter, appeared scattered 
 at unequal distances over the ground a few
 
 THE king's highway. 115 
 
 Stunted trees — hawthorns, beeches, and oaks. 
 The beech, however, predominated, in honour 
 of the county in which the common was situ- 
 ated; for though, probably, if we knew the 
 origin of the name bestowed on each county in 
 England, we should find them all significant, 
 yet none I believe, would be found more pic- 
 turesque or appropriate than that given by our 
 good Saxon ancestors to the county in question 
 — being Buchen-heim, or Buckingham: the 
 home or land of the beeches. 
 
 The gorse, fern, and heath, besides a small 
 quantity of not very rich grass, and a few wild 
 flowers, were the only produce of the ground, 
 except the trees that I have mentioned ; and 
 the only tenants of the place were a few sheep, 
 by far too lean to need any one to look after 
 them. On the edges of the common, indeed, 
 might be found an occasional goose or two, 
 but the}' were like the white settlers on the coast 
 of Africa : venturing rarely and timidly into the 
 interior. A high road went across this track, 
 as I have shown; but it being necessarj^, from 
 time to time, that farmers' carts, and other con- 
 I 2
 
 116 THE king's highway. 
 
 veyances, horses, waggons, tinkers' asses, and 
 flocks of sheep, should cross it in different di- 
 rections, and as each of these travelling bodies, 
 in common with the world in general, liked to 
 have a way of its own, the furze and fern 
 had been cut down in many long straight 
 lines ; and paths for horse and foot, as well 
 as long tracks of wheels, and deep ruts, crossed 
 and recrossed each other all over the common. 
 To have seen it — nay, to see it now, for it 
 exists very nearly in its primeval state — one 
 would suppose, from all the various tracks, that 
 it was a place of great thoroughfare, when, to 
 say truth, though I have crossed it some twenty 
 times or more, I never saw any travelling thing 
 upon it but a solitary tax-cart and a gipsy's 
 van. 
 
 It was just about the middle of this common, 
 then, that Wilton Brown, as I have said, per- 
 ceived another horseman riding along at the 
 same slow pace as himself. Their faces were 
 both turned one way, with a few hundred yards 
 between them ; and it appeared to the young- 
 gentleman, that the other personage whom we
 
 THE king's highway. 117 
 
 have mentioned was coming in an oblique line 
 towards the high road to which he himself 
 was journeying. This supposition proved to 
 be correct, as the stranger, riding along the 
 path that he was following, came abreast of 
 Wilton Brown upon the high road, just at 
 the spot where a comfortable direction-post 
 pointed with the forefinger of a rude hand 
 carved in the wood, along a path to the left, 
 bearing inscribed, in large letters, " To Wo- 
 burn." 
 
 The young traveller examined the other with 
 a hasty but marking glance, and perceived 
 thereby, that he was a stout man of the middle 
 age, between the unpleasant ages of forty and 
 fifty, but without any loss of power or activity. 
 He was mounted on a strong black horse, had 
 a quick and eager eye, and altogether possessed 
 a fine countenance, but there was some degree 
 of shy suspicion in his look, which did not seem 
 to indicate any very great energy or force of 
 determination. 
 
 It now wanted not more than a quarter of an 
 hour to sunset, and there was a bright rich yel- 
 I 3
 
 118 THE king's highway. 
 
 low light in the western sky, which gave each 
 traveller a fair excuse for staring into the face 
 of the other, as if their eyes were dazzled by 
 the beams of the declining sun. 
 
 When he had satisfied himself, Wilton Brown 
 turned away his eyes, and rode on, gazing 
 quietly over the wide extent of bleak common, 
 which, to say sooth, offered a picturesque scene 
 enough, with its scrubby trees, and its large 
 masses of tall gorse, lying in the calm evening 
 air; while deep blue shadows, and clear lights' 
 resting here and there in the hollows and upon 
 the swells, marked them out distinctly to the 
 view. 
 
 In a moment after, however, Wilton's ears 
 were saluted by the stranger's voice, saying, 
 " Give you good evening, young gentleman — 
 it has been a fine afternoon." 
 
 Now this might appear somewhat singular 
 in the present day — when human beings have 
 adopted a particular sort of mysterious ordi- 
 nance, by which alone they can become 
 thoroughly known and acquainted with each 
 other — and when no man, upon any pretence
 
 THE king's highway. 119 
 
 or consideration whatsoever, dare speak to a 
 fellow-creature, until some one known to both 
 of them has whispered some cabalistic words 
 between them, which, in general, neither of 
 them hear distinctly. At the time I speak of, 
 however, acquaintance was much more easily 
 made, so far, at least, as common civility and 
 the ordinary charities of life went. A man 
 might speak to another at that time, if any 
 accidental circumstances threw them close to- 
 gether, without any risk of being taken for a 
 fool, a swindler, or a brute; and there was, 
 in short, a good-humoured frankness and sim- 
 plicity in those days, which formed, to say the 
 truth, the best part about them ; for the good 
 old times, as they are called, were certainly 
 desperately coarse, and a trifle more vicious 
 than the present. 
 
 Such being the case then, Wilton Brown was 
 not in the least surprised at the address of the 
 stranger, but turned, and replied civilly ; and 
 being, indeed, somewhat dissatisfied with the 
 companionship of his own thoughts he suffered 
 his horse to jog on side by side with the beast 
 I 4
 
 120 THE king's highway. 
 
 of the stranger, and entered into conversation 
 with him willingly enough. He found him an 
 intelligent and clever man, with a tone and 
 manner superior, in many points, to his dress 
 and equipage. He seemed to speak with au- 
 thority, and was conversant with the great 
 world of London, with the court, and the camp. 
 He knew something also of France, and its 
 self-called great monarch. He spoke with a 
 shrug of the shoulder and an Alas ! of the court 
 of Saint Germain, and the exiled royal family 
 of England; but he said nothing that could 
 commit him to either one party or the other : 
 and though he certainly left room for Wilton to 
 express his own sentiments if he chose to do so, 
 he did not absolutely strive to lead him to any 
 political subject, which formed in those days a 
 more dangerous ground than at present. 
 
 Wilton, however, had not the slightest in- 
 clination to discuss politics with a stranger. 
 Brought up by a Whig minister, educated in 
 the Protestant religion, and fond of liberty 
 upon principle, it may easily be imagined, that 
 he not only looked upon those who now swayed,
 
 THE king's highway. 121 
 
 and were destined to sway, the British sceptre 
 as the lawful and rightful possessors of power 
 in the country, but he regarded the actual sove- 
 reign himself — though he might not love him 
 in his private character, or admire him in those 
 acts, where the man and the monarch were too 
 inseparably blended to be considered apart — 
 as a great deliverer of this country, from a 
 tyranny which had been twice tried and twice 
 repudiated. At the same time, however, he 
 felt for the exiled monarch. But he felt still 
 more for his noble wife, and for his mihappy 
 son. His own heart told him that those two had 
 been unjustly dealt with, the one calumniated, 
 the other punished without a fault. Nor did he 
 blame the true and faithful servants whom ad- 
 versity could not shake, and who were only loyal 
 to a crime, who still adhered to their old alle- 
 giance, loved still the sovereign, who had never 
 ill-treated them, and were ready again to shed 
 their blood for the house in whose service so 
 much noble blood had already flowed. He did 
 not — he did not in his own heart — blame them, 
 and he loved not to consider what necessity there
 
 122 
 
 might be for putting down with the strong and 
 unsparing hand of law the frequent renewal of 
 those claims which had been decided upon by 
 the awful sentence of a mighty nation. 
 
 But upon none of these subjects spoke he 
 with the stranger. He refrained from all such 
 topics, though they were with some skill thrown 
 in his way ; and thus the journey passed plea- 
 santly enough for about half an hour. By that 
 time the sun had gone down ; but it was a clear 
 bright evening, with a long twilight; and the 
 evening rays, like gay children unwilling to go 
 to sleep, lingered long in rosy sport with the light 
 clouds before they would sink to rest beneath the 
 western sky. The twilight was becoming grey, 
 however, and the light falling short, when, at 
 about the distance of half a mile before they 
 reached the spot w^here the common terminated, 
 the two travellers approached a rise and fall in 
 the ground, beyond which ran a little stream with 
 a small old bridge of one arch, not in the best 
 repair, carrying the highway over the water with 
 a sharp and sudden turn. Scattered about in the 
 neighbourhood of the bridge, and on the slope
 
 THE king's highway. 123 
 
 that led down to it, perched upon sundry knolls 
 and banks, and pieces of broken ground, were 
 a number of old beeches, mostly hollowed out 
 by time, but still flourishing green in their 
 decay. These trees, together with the twilight, 
 prevented the bridge itself from being seen by 
 the travellers ; but as they came near, they 
 heard a sudden cry, as if called forth by either 
 terror or surprise, and Wilton instantly checked 
 his horse to listen. 
 
 " Did you not hear a scream?" he said, ad- 
 dressing his companion in a low voice. 
 
 " Yes," answered the other, " I thought I 
 did : let us ride on and see." 
 
 Wilton's spurs instantly touched his horse's 
 side, and he rode quickly down the slope to- 
 wards the bridge, which he well remembered, 
 when a scene was suddenly presented to his 
 view, which for a moment puzzled and con- 
 founded him. 
 
 Just at the turn of the bridge lay overturned 
 upon the road one of the large, heavy, wide- 
 topped vehicles, called a coach in those days, 
 while round about it appeared a group of per-
 
 124 THE king's highway. 
 
 sons whose situation, for a moment, seemed to 
 him dubious, but which soon became more 
 plain. A gentleman, somewhat advanced in life 
 — perhaps about fifty-eight or fifty-nine, if not 
 more — stood by the door of the carriage, from 
 which he had recently emerged, and with him 
 two women, one of whom was a young lady, 
 apparently of about seventeen years of age, 
 and the other her maid. Three men-servants 
 stood about their master: but they had not the 
 slightest appearance of any intention of giving 
 aid to any one; for, though sundry were the 
 situations and attitudes in which they stood, 
 each of those attitudes betokened, in a greater 
 or a less degree, the uncomfortable sensa- 
 tion of fear. One of them, indeed, had a 
 brace of pistols in his two hands, but those 
 hands dropped, as it were, powerless by his side, 
 and his knees were bent into a crooked line, 
 which certainly indicated no great firmness of 
 heart. 
 
 To account for the trepidation displayed by 
 several of the persons present, it may be neces- 
 sary to state that round the overthrown vehicle
 
 THE king's highway. 125 
 
 stood five personages, each of whom held a 
 cocked pistol in his hand, and, in two instances, 
 the hands that held those pistols were raised in 
 an attitude of menace not to be mistaken. In 
 one instance, the weapon of offence was pointed 
 towards the gentleman who appeared to be the 
 owner of the carriage ; in the other, it was di- 
 rected towards the head of the poor girl, his 
 daughter, who seemed to have not the slightest 
 intention of resisting. 
 
 This formidable gesture was accompanied by 
 words, which were spoken loud enough for 
 Wilton to hear, as he pushed his horse down 
 the hill; and those words were, '^ Come, 
 madam ! your ear-rings, quick : do not keep us 
 all night with your hands shaking. By the 
 Lord, I will get them out in a quicker fashion 
 if you do not mind." 
 
 Before we can proceed to describe what oc- 
 curred next, it may be necessary to state one 
 feature in the case, which was very peculiar, 
 this was, that at about forty yards from the 
 spot where the robbery was taking place, upon 
 the top of a small bank, with his horse grazing
 
 126 
 
 near, and his arms crossed upon his chest, stood 
 a man of gentlemanly appearance and powerful 
 frame, taking no part whatsoever in the affray ; 
 not opposing the proceedings of the plunderers, 
 indeed, but gnawing his nether lip, as if any 
 thing rather than well contented. He fixed a 
 keen, even a fierce eye upon Wilton as he rode 
 down; but neither the young gentleman him- 
 self, nor the other traveller who followed him 
 at full speed, took any notice of him, but 
 coming on with their pistols drawn from their 
 holsters, they were soon in the midst of the 
 group round the carriage. 
 
 Wilton, unaccustomed to such encounters, 
 was not very willing to shed blood, and there- 
 fore — the chivalrous spirit in his heart leading 
 him at once towards one particular spot in the 
 circle — he struck the man who was brutall}^ 
 pointing his pistol at the girl, a blow of his 
 clenched fist, which hitting him just under the 
 ear, as he turned at the sound of the horse's 
 feet, laid him in a moment motionless and 
 stunned upon the ground. 
 
 The young gentleman by the same impulse,
 
 127 
 
 and almost at the same instant, sprang from 
 his horse, and cast himself between the lady 
 and the assailants ; but at that moment the 
 voice of his travelling companion met his ear, 
 exclaiming, in a thundering tone, " That is 
 right ! that is right ! Now stand upon the de- 
 fensive till my men come up ! " 
 
 Wilton did not at all understand what this 
 might mean; but turning to the servants al- 
 ready on the spot he exclaimed, in a sharp 
 tone, " Stand forward like men, you scoun- 
 drels ! '* and they, seeing some help at hand, 
 advanced a little with a show of couraoe. 
 
 o 
 
 The gentlemen of the King's Highway, 
 however, had heard the words which Wil- 
 ton's companion had shouted to him; and 
 seeino^ themselves somewhat overmatched in 
 point of numbers already, they did not appear 
 to approve of more men coming up on the 
 other side, before they had taken their depar- 
 ture. There was, consequently, much hurrying 
 to horse. The man who had been knocked 
 down by Wilton was dragged away by the 
 heels, from the spot where he lay somewhat
 
 128 
 
 too near to the other party ; and the sharp 
 application of the gravel to his face, as one of 
 his companions pulled him along by the legs, 
 proved sufficiently reviving to make him start 
 up, and nearly knock his rescuer down. 
 
 Wilton — not moved by the spirit of an an- 
 cient Greek — felt no inclination to fight for the 
 dead or the living body of his foe; and the 
 whole party of plunderers were speedily in 
 the saddle and on the retreat, with the excep- 
 tion of the more sedate personage on the bank. 
 He, indeed, was more slow to mount, calling 
 the man who had been knocked down " The 
 Knight of the Bloody Nose" as he passed 
 him ; and then with a light laugh springing 
 into the saddle, he followed the rest at an easy 
 canter. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " exclaimed Wilton's com- 
 panion of the road laughing, " let me be called 
 the master of stratagems for the rest of my life ! 
 Those five fools have suffered themselves to be 
 terrified from their booty, simply by three 
 words from my mouth and their own imagin- 
 ations."
 
 THE king's highway. 129 
 
 " Then you have no men coming up," said 
 Wilton. 
 
 " Not a man," replied the other : " all my 
 men are busy in my own house at this minute, 
 most likely saying grace over roast pork and 
 humminoj ale." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 130 THE king's highway. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 The events that happen to us in life gather 
 themselves together into particular groups, each 
 group separated in some degree from that which 
 follows and that which goes before, but yet 
 each united, in its own several parts, by some 
 strong bond of connection, and each by a finer 
 and less apparent ligament attached to the 
 other groups that surround it. In short, if, as 
 the great poet moralist has said, " All the world 
 is a stage, and all the men and women in it 
 only players," the life of each man is a drama, 
 with the events thereof divided into separate 
 scenes, the scenes gathered into grand acts, and 
 the acts all tending to the great tragic con- 
 clusion of the whole. Happy were it for man 
 if he, like a great dramatist, would keep the 
 ultimate conclusion still in view.
 
 THE king's highway. 131 
 
 In the life of Wilton Brown, the scene of 
 the robbers ended with the words which we have 
 just said were spoken by his travelling com- 
 panion, and a new scene was about to begin. 
 
 The elderly gentleman to whom the carriage 
 apparently belonged, took a step forward as the 
 stranger spoke the last sentence, exclaiming, 
 " Surely I am not mistaken — Sir John Fenwick, 
 I believe : " the stranger pulled off his hat and 
 bowed low. 
 
 -' The same, your Grace," he replied : " it Is 
 long since we have met, and I am happy that 
 our meeting now has proved, in some degree, 
 serviceable to you." 
 
 " Most serviceable, indeed, Sir John," replied 
 the Duke, shaking him warmly by the hand ; 
 " and how is your fair wife, my Lady Mary ? 
 and my good Lord of Carlisle, andjall the 
 Howards ? " 
 
 " Well, thank your Grace," replied Sir^John 
 Fenwick, " all well. This, I presume, is your 
 fair daughter, my Lady ." 
 
 " She is, sir, she is," interrupted the Duke: 
 **you have seen her as a child, Sir John ; " but 
 K 2
 
 132 THE king's high\vay. 
 
 pray. Sir John, introduce us to your gallant 
 joung friend, to whom we are also indebted 
 for so much." 
 
 " He must do that for himself," replied Sir 
 John Fenwick : " we are but the companions of 
 the last half hour, and comrades in this little 
 adventure." 
 
 Although accustomed to mingle with the best 
 society; and, in all ordinary cases, free and 
 unrestrained in his own manners, Wilton Brown 
 felt some slioht awkwardness in introducing; 
 himself upon the present occasion. He accord- 
 ingly merely gave his name, expressing hovv^ 
 much happiness he felt at the opportunity he 
 had had of serving the Duke ; but referred not 
 at all to his own station or connection with the 
 Earl of Sunbury. 
 
 " Wilton Brown ! " said the Duke, with a 
 meaning smile, and gazing at him from head to 
 foot, while he mentally contrasted his fine and 
 lofty appearance, handsome dress, and distin- 
 guished manners, with the somewhat ordinary 
 name which he had given. " Wilton Brown !
 
 133 
 
 a nom de guerre^ I rather suspect, my young 
 friend?" 
 
 " Noj indeed, my Lord," replied Wilton ; 
 " were it worth any body's while to search, it 
 would be found so written in the books of Christ- 
 church." 
 
 " Oh ! an Oxonian," cried the Duke, " and 
 doubtless now upon your way to London. — But 
 how is this, my young friend, you are in midst 
 of term time ! " 
 
 Wilton smiled at the somewhat authoritative 
 and parental tone assumed by the old gentle- 
 man. " The fact is, my Lord Duke," he said, 
 " that I am obliged to absent myself, but not 
 without permission. The illness of my best 
 friend, the Earl of Sunbury, and his approach- 
 ing departure for Italy, oblige me to go to 
 London now to see him before he departs." 
 
 " Oh, the Earl of Sunbury, the Earl of Sun- 
 bury," replied the Duke : " a most excellent 
 man, and a great statesman : one on w^hom all 
 parties rely.* That alters the case, my young 
 
 * Let it be remarked that this was not the Earl of Sunder- 
 land, of whom the exact reverse might hare been said. 
 
 K 3
 
 134 
 
 friend; and indeed, whatever might be the 
 cciLise of your absence from Alma Mater, we 
 have much to thank that cause for your gallant 
 assistance — especially my poor girl here. Let 
 me shake hands with you — and now we must 
 think of what is to be done next, for it is well 
 nigh dark ; the carriage is broken by those large 
 stones which they must have put in the way, 
 doubtless, to stop us ; and it is hopeless to think 
 of getting on farther to-night." 
 
 " Hopeless, indeed, my Lord," replied Sir 
 John Fenwick; "but your Grace must have, 
 passed on the way hither a little inn, about 
 half a mile distant or somewhat more. There 
 I intended to sleep to-night, and most probably 
 my young friend too, for his horse seems as tired 
 as mine. If your Grace will follow my advice, 
 you would walk back to the inn, make your 
 servants take every thing out of the carriage, 
 and send some people down afterwards to drag 
 it to the inn-yard till to-morrow morning." 
 
 " It is most unfortunate ! " said the Duke, 
 who was fond of retrospects. " We sent forward 
 the other carriage about three hours before
 
 THE king's highway. 135 
 
 US, in order that the house in London might 
 be prepared when we came." 
 
 The proposal of Sir John Fenwick, however, 
 was adopted ; and after givhig careful and 
 manifold orders to his servants, the Duke took 
 his way back on foot towards the inn, conversing 
 as he went with the knight. His daughter 
 followed, with Wilton Brown by her side ; and 
 for a moment or two they went on in silence; 
 but at length seeing her steps not very steady 
 over the rough road upon which they were, 
 Wilton offered his left arm to support her, 
 having the bridle of his horse over the right. 
 
 She took it at once, and he felt her hand 
 tremble as it rested on his arm, which was ex- 
 plained almost at the same moment. ** It is 
 very foolish, 1 believe," she said, in a low, sweet 
 voice, " and you will think me a terrible coward, 
 I am afraid ; but I know not how it is, I feel 
 more terrified and agitated, now that this is all 
 over, than I did at the time." 
 
 The communication being thus begun, Wilton 
 soon found means to soothe and quiet her. His 
 conversation had all that ease and grace which, 
 K 4
 
 136 THE king's highway. 
 
 combined with carefulness of proprieties, is 
 only to be gained by long and early association 
 with persons of high minds and manners. 
 There was no restraint, no stiffness — for to 
 avoid all that could give pain or offence to any 
 one was habitual to him — and yet, at the same 
 time, there was joined to the high tone of 
 demeanour, a sort of freshness of ideas, a pic- 
 turesqueness of language and of thought, v.^hich 
 were very captivating, even when employed 
 upon ordinary subjects. It is an art — perhaps 
 1 might almost call it, a faculty — of minds like 
 his, insensibly and naturally to lead others from 
 the most common topics, to matters of deeper 
 interest, and thoughts of a less every-day cha- 
 racter. It is as if two persons were riding along 
 the high road together, and one of them, without 
 his companion remarking it, were to guide their 
 horses into some bridle-path displaying in its 
 course new views and beautiful points in tlie 
 scenery around. 
 
 Thus ere they reached the inn the fair girl, 
 who leaned upon the arm of an acquaintance of 
 half an hour, seemed to her own feelings as
 
 THE king's highway. 137 
 
 well acquainted with him as if she had known 
 him for years, and was talking with him on a 
 thousand subjects on which she had never con- 
 versed with any one before. 
 
 The Duke, who although good-humoured 
 and kindly, was somewhat stately, and perhaps 
 a very little ostentatious withal, on the arrival of 
 the party at the inn, insisted upon the two gentle- 
 men doing him the honour of supping with him 
 that night, " as w^ell," he said, " as the poorness 
 of the place would permit ; " and a room apart 
 having been assigned to him, he retired thither, 
 with the humbly bowing host, to issue his own 
 orders regarding their provision. The larder 
 of the inn, however, proved to be miraculously 
 well-stocked : the landlord declared that no 
 town in Burgundy no nor Bordeaux itself, 
 could excel the wine that he would produce; 
 and while the servants with messengers from 
 the inn brought in packages, which seemed 
 innumerable, from the carriage, the cook toiled 
 in her vocation ; the host and hostess bustled 
 about to put all the rooms in order, Sir John 
 Fen wick and Wilton Brown talked at the door
 
 138 THE king's highway. 
 
 of the inn, and Lady Laura retired to alter 
 her dress, which had been somewhat deranged 
 by the overthrow of the carriage. 
 
 At length, l)owever, it was announced that 
 supper was ready, and Wilton with his com- 
 panion entered the room, where the Duke and 
 his daughter awaited them. On going in, 
 Wilton was struck and surprised ; and, indeed, 
 he almost paused in his advance, at the sight of 
 the young lady as she stood by her father. In 
 tlie grey of the twilight, he had only remarked 
 that she was a very pretty girl ; and as they 
 had walked along to the inn she had shown so 
 little of the manner and consciousness of a pro- 
 fessed beauty, that he had not even suspected 
 she might be more than he had first imagined. 
 Wlien he saw her now, however, in the full light, 
 he was, as we have said, struck with surprise 
 by the vision of radiant loveliness which her 
 face and form presented. Wilton was too wise, 
 however, and knew his own situation too well, 
 even to dream of falling in love with a duke's 
 daughter ; and though he might, when her eyes 
 were turned a different way, gaze upon her and
 
 THE king's highway. 139 
 
 admire, it was but as a man who looks at a 
 jewel in a king's crown, which he knows he 
 can never possess. 
 
 Well pleased to please, and having nothing 
 in his thouohts to embarrass or trouble him on 
 that particular occasion, he gave way to his 
 natural feelings, and won no small favour and 
 approbation in the eyes of the Duke and his 
 fair daughter. The evening, which had begun 
 with tvvo of the party so inauspiciously, passed 
 over lightly and gaily ; and after supper Wilton 
 rose to retire to rest, with a sigh, perhaps, from 
 some ill-defined emotions, but with a recollection 
 of two or three happy hours to be added to the 
 treasury of such sweet things which memory 
 stores for us in our way through life. 
 
 As the inn was very full, the young gentle- 
 man had to pass through the kitchen to reach 
 the staircase of his appointed room. Standing 
 before the kitchen fire, and talking over his 
 shoulder to the landlord, who stood a step 
 behind him, was a tall, broad-shouldered, 
 powerful man, dressed in a good suit of green 
 broad cloth, laced with gold. His face was to
 
 140 THE king's highway. 
 
 the fire and his back to Wilton, and he did not 
 turn or look round while the young gentleman 
 was there. The landlord hastened to give his 
 guest a light, and show him his room; and 
 Wilton passed a night, which, if not dreamless, 
 was visited by no other visions but sweet ones. 
 
 On the following morning he was up early, and 
 approached the v/indow of his room to throw 
 it open, and to let in the sweet early air to visit 
 him, while he dressed himself; but the moment 
 he went near the window, he saw that it looked 
 into a pretty garden laid out in the old English 
 style. That garden, however, was already 
 tenanted by two persons apparently deep in 
 earnest conversation. One of those two persons 
 was evidently Sir John Fenwick, and the other 
 was the stranger in green and gold, whom 
 Wilton had remarked the night before at the 
 kitchen fire. 
 
 Seeing how earnestly they were speaking, he 
 refrained from opening his window, and pro- 
 ceeded to dress himself; but he could not avoid 
 having, every now and then, a full view of the 
 faces of the two, as they turned backwards
 
 THE king's highway, 141 
 
 and forwards at the end of the garden. Some- 
 thing that he there saw puzzled and surprised 
 him : the appearance of the stranger in green 
 seemed more familiar to him than it could 
 have become by the casual glance he had 
 obtained of it in the inn kitchen; and he be- 
 came more and more convinced, at every turn 
 they took before him, that this personage was no 
 other than the man he had beheld standing on 
 the bank, taking no part with the gentlemen 
 of the road, indeed, but evidently belonging to 
 their company. 
 
 This puzzled him, as we have said, not a 
 little. Sir John Fenwick was a gentleman of 
 good repute, whom he had heard of before now. 
 He had married the Lady Mary Howard, 
 daughter of the Earl of Carlisle, and, though a 
 staunch Jacobite, it was supposed, he was never- 
 theless looked upon as a man of undoubted 
 probity and honour. What could have been 
 his business then w^ith thieves, or at best with 
 the companions of thieves ? This was a ques- 
 tion which Wilton could no ways solve; and 
 after having teased himself for some time there-
 
 142 THE king's highway. 
 
 with, he at length descended to the little parlour 
 of the inn, and ordered his horse to be brought 
 round as speedily as possible. He felt in his 
 own bosom, indeed, some inclination to wait for 
 an hour or two, in order to take leave of the 
 Duke and his fair daughter ; but remembering 
 his own situation with the Earl, as well as 
 feeling some of his gloomy sensations of the day 
 before returning upon him, he determined to 
 set out without loss of time. He mounted ac- 
 cordingly, and took his way towards London at 
 a quick pace, in order to arrive before the 
 Earl's breakfast hour. 
 
 There are, however, in that part of the 
 country manifold hills, over which none but 
 a very inhumane man, unless he were pursued 
 by enemies, or pursuing a fox, would urge his 
 horse at a rapid rate; and as Wilton Brown 
 was slowly climbing one of the first of these, 
 he was overtaken by another horseman, who 
 turned out to be none other than the worthy 
 gentleman in the green coat. 
 
 " Good morrow to you, Master Wilton 
 Brown," said the stranger, pulling up his horse
 
 THE king's highway. 143 
 
 as soon as he luid reached him : " we are riding 
 along the same road, I find, and may as well 
 keep companionship as we go. These are sad 
 times, and the roads are dangerous." 
 
 '• They are, indeed, my good sir," replied 
 Wilton, who was, in general, not without that 
 capability of putting down intrusion at a word, 
 which, strangely enough, is sometimes a talent 
 of the lowest and meanest order of frivolous 
 intellects, but is almost always found in the 
 firm and decided — " they are, indeed, if I may 
 judge by what you and I saw last night." 
 
 The stranger did not move a muscle, but 
 answered quite coolly, " Ay, sad doings though, 
 sad doings : you knocked that fellow dovi^n 
 smartly — a neat blow, as I should wish to see : 
 I thought you would have shot one of them, 
 for my part." 
 
 "It is a pity you had not been beforehand 
 widi me," answered Wilton: "you seemed to 
 have been some time enjoying the sport when 
 we came up." 
 
 The stranger now laughed aloud. " No, no," 
 he said, " that woulo) not do ; I could not in-
 
 144 THE king's highway. 
 
 terfere; I am not conservator of the King's 
 Highway; and, for my part, it should always be 
 open for gentlemen to act as they liked, though 
 I would not take any share in the matter for 
 the world." 
 
 " There is such a thing," replied Wilton, 
 not liking his companion at all — " there is such 
 a thing as taking no share in the risk, and a 
 share in the profit." 
 
 A quick flush passed over the horseman's 
 cheek, but remained not a moment. " That is 
 not my case," he replied, in a graver tone than 
 he had hitherto used ; " not a stiver would I 
 have taken that came out of the good Duke's 
 pocket, had it been to save me from starving. 
 I take no money from any but an enemy ; and 
 when we cannot carry on the war with them in 
 the open field, I do not see why we should not 
 carry it on with them in any way we can. But 
 to attack a friend, or an indifferent person, is 
 not at all in my way." 
 
 " Oh ! I begin to understand you somewhat 
 more clearly," replied Wilton; "but allow me 
 to say, my good sir, that it were much better
 
 THE king's highway. 145 
 
 not to talk to me any more upon such subjects. 
 By so doing you run a needless risk yourself, 
 and can do neither of us any good. Of course," 
 he added, willing to change the conversation, 
 " it was Sir John Fenwick who told you my 
 name." 
 
 " Yes," replied the other, '' but it was need- 
 less, for I knew it before." 
 
 " And yet," said Wilton, " I do not re- 
 member that we ever met." 
 
 " There you are mistaken," answered the 
 traveller ; " we met no longer ago than last 
 Monday week. You were going down the High 
 Street in your cap and gown, and you saw some 
 boys looking into a tart shop, and gave them 
 some pence to buy what they longed for." 
 
 The ingenuous colour came up into Wilton 
 Brown's cheek, as he remembered the little 
 circumstance to which the man alluded. " I 
 did not see you," he said. 
 
 " But I saw you," answered the man, " and 
 was pleased with what I saw ; for I am one of 
 those whom the hard lessons of life have taught 
 to judge more by the small acts done in private, 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE king's highway. 
 
 than by the great acts that all mankind must 
 see. Man's closet acts are for his own heart 
 and God's eye; man's public deeds are paint- 
 ings for the world. However, I was pleased, as 
 I have said, and I have seen more things of 
 you also that have pleased me well. You saw 
 me, passed me by, and would not know me again 
 in the same shape to-morrow ; but I take many 
 forms, when it may suit my purposes ; and hav- 
 ing been well pleased with you once or twice, I 
 take heed of what you are about when I do 
 see you." 
 
 Wilton Brown mused over what he said for 
 a moment or two, and then replied, " I should 
 much like to know what it was first induced 
 you to take any notice of my actions at all — 
 there must have been some motive, of course." 
 
 " Oh no," replied the other — " there is no 
 must! It might have been common curiosity. 
 Every likely youth, with a pair of broad shoul- 
 ders and a soldier-like air, is worth looking 
 after in these times of war and trouble. — But 
 the truth is, I know those who know something 
 of you, and, if I liked, I could introduce you
 
 THE king's highway. 147 
 
 to one whom you have not seen for many a 
 year." 
 
 " What is his name ? " demanded Wilton 
 Brown, turning sharply upon the stranger, and 
 gazing full in his face. 
 
 " Oh ! I name no names," replied the 
 stranger ; " I know not whether it would be 
 liked or not. However, some day I will do 
 what I have said, if I can get leave; and now I 
 think I will wish you good morning, for here 
 lies my road, and there lies yours." 
 
 " But stay, stay, yet a moment," said Wilton, 
 checking his horse ; " how am I to hear of you, 
 or to see you again ?" 
 
 " Oh ! " replied the stranger in a gay tone, 
 " I will contrive that, fear not ! — Nevertheless, 
 in case you should need it, you can ask for me 
 at the tavern at the back of Beaufort House : 
 the Green Dragon, it is called." 
 
 " And your name, your name," said Wilton, 
 seeing the other about to ride away. 
 
 " My name, ay ! I had forgot — why, your 
 name is Brown — call me Green, if you like. 
 One colour's just as good as another, and I 
 L 2
 
 148 THE king's highway. 
 
 may as ^Yell keep the complexion of my good 
 friend, the Dragon, in countenance. So you 
 Avo'n't forget, it is Mister Green at the Green 
 Dragon, in the Green Lane at the back of Beau- 
 fort House ; and now. Mister Brown, I leave 
 you a brown study, to carry you on your way." 
 
 So saying, he turned his horse's head, and 
 cantered easily over the upland which skirted 
 the road to the left. After he had gone about a 
 couple of hundred yards, Wilton saw him stop 
 and pause as if thoughtfully for a minute. But 
 without turning back to the road, he again put 
 spurs to his horse, and was out of sight in a few 
 moments. 
 
 Wilton then rode on to London, without 
 farther pause or adventure of any kind ; but it 
 were vain to say, that, in this instance, " care 
 did not sit behind the horseman ; " for many 
 an anxious thought, and unresolved question, 
 and intense meditation, were his companions 
 on his onward way. Fortunately, however, his 
 horse was not troubled in the same manner; 
 and about five minutes before the hour he had 
 proposed to himself, Wilton was standing before
 
 THE king's highway. 149 
 
 the house of the Earl in St. James's Square. 
 Tlie servants were all rejoiced to see him, for, 
 unlike persons in his situation in general, he 
 was very popular amongst them ; but the Earl, 
 he was informed, had not yet risei , and the 
 account the young gentleman received of his 
 health made him sad and apprehensive. 
 
 L 3
 
 150 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 In about an hoin-'s time, the Earl of Sunbury 
 descended to breakfast ; and be expressed no 
 small pleasure at the unexpected appearance of 
 Lis yo\xr\g protege, 
 
 " You were always a kind and an affectionate 
 boYj Wilton," he said ; " and you have kept your 
 good feelings unchanged, I am happy to find. 
 Depend upon it, when one can do so, amongst 
 all the troubles, and cares, and corrupting 
 things of this world, we find in the feelings of 
 the heart that consolation, when sorrows and 
 disappointments assail us, which no gift or 
 favour of man can impart. I believe, indeed, 
 that within the last six months, with all the 
 bodily pains and mental anxieties I have had 
 to suffer, I should either have died or gone mad, 
 had not my mind obtained relief, from time to 
 time, in the enjoyment of the beauties of nature,
 
 THE king's highway. 151 
 
 the works of art, and the productions of genius., 
 — Nor have my thoughts been altogether un- 
 occupied with youj" he added, after a moment's 
 pause, " and that occupation would have been 
 most pleasant to my mind, Wilton, inasmuch as 
 through your whole course you have given me 
 undivided satisfaction. But, alas ! I cannot 
 do for you all that I should wish to do. You 
 know that my own estates are all entailed upon 
 distant relatives, whom I do not even know. I 
 am not a man, as you are well aware, to accu- 
 mulate wealth; and all I can possibly assure to 
 you is the enjoyment of the same income I have 
 hitherto allowed you, and which, in case of my 
 death, 1 will take care shall be yours." 
 
 Wilton listened, as may be supposed, with 
 affection and gratitude ; but he tried, after ex- 
 pressing all he felt, and assuring the Earl that 
 he possessed as much as he desired, to put an 
 end to a conversation which was rendered the 
 more painful to him by the marked alteration 
 which he perceived in the person of his friend 
 since he had last seen him. 
 
 The Earl, however, would not suffer the sub- 
 L 4
 
 152 THE king's highway. 
 
 ject to drop, replying, " I know well that you 
 are no way extravagant, Wilton, and maintain 
 the appearance of a gentleman upon smaller 
 means than many could or would; but yet, my 
 good youth, you are naturally ambitious ; and 
 there are a thousand wants, necessities, and 
 desires still to be gratified, which at present you 
 neither perceive nor provide for. You are not 
 destined, Wilton, to go on all your life, content 
 in the seclusion of a college, with less than three 
 hundred a year. Every man should strive to 
 fulfil to the utmost his destiny — I mean, should 
 endeavour to reach the highest point in anyway 
 which God has given him the capability of 
 attaining. You must become more than you 
 are, greater, higher, richer, by your own ex- 
 ertions.- Had my health suffered me to remain 
 here, I could have easily facilitated your pro- 
 gress in political life. Now I must trust your 
 advancement to another ; and you will perhaps 
 think it strange, that the person I do trust it 
 to should not be any of my old and intimate 
 political friends. But I have my reasons for 
 what I do, which you will some day know ; and
 
 THE king's highway. 153 
 
 before I go, I must exact one promise of you, 
 which is to put yourself under the guidance 
 of the person whom I have mentioned, and 
 to accept whatever post he may think the best 
 calculated to promote your future views. As 
 he now holds one of the highest stations in 
 the ministry, I could have wished him to 
 name you his private secretary, but that office 
 is at present filled, and he has promised me 
 most solemnly to find you some occupation 
 within the next half year. Your allowance 
 shall be regularly transmitted to you till my 
 return; and, until you receive some appoint- 
 ment, you had better remain at Oxford, which 
 may give you perhaps the means of taking your 
 first degree. — And now, my dear boy, that I 
 have explained all this, what' were you about to 
 say regarding the adventures you met with in 
 your journey ? " 
 
 " First let me ask, sir," replied Wilton, " who 
 is the gentleman you have so kindly interested 
 forme?" 
 
 " Oh ! I thought you had divined : it is the 
 Earl of Byerdale, now all potent in the counsels
 
 154 THE king's highway. 
 
 of the King — at least, so men suppose and say. 
 However, I look upon it that you have given 
 me the promise that I ask." 
 
 "Undoubtedly, my Lord," replied Wilton: 
 " in such a case, I must ever look upon your 
 wishes as a command." 
 
 The conversation then turned to other and 
 lighter matters, and Wilton amused his friend 
 with a detail of the adventures of the pre- 
 ceding night. 
 
 " Sir John Fen wick!" exclaimed the Earl, 
 as soon as Wilton came to the events that suc- 
 ceeded the robbery — " He is a dangerous com- 
 panion, Sir John Fenwick ! We know him to be 
 disaffected, a nonjuror, and a plotter of a dark 
 and intriguing character — who was the Duke 
 he met with ? Duke of what ? " 
 
 " On my word, I cannot tell you, sir," re- 
 plied Wilton; " I did not hear his name: they 
 called his daughter Lady Laura." 
 
 " You are a strange young man, Wilton," 
 replied the Earl ; " there are probably not two 
 men in Europe who would have failed to in-
 
 THE king's highway. 155 
 
 quire, if it were no more than the name of this 
 pretty girl you mention." 
 
 " If there had been the slightest probability 
 of my ever meeting her again," replied Wilton, 
 " I most likely should have inquired. But my 
 story is not ended yet," and he went on to de- 
 tail what had occurred during his ride that 
 morning. 
 
 This seemed to strike and interest the Earl 
 more than the rest ; and he immediately asked 
 his young companion a vast number of ques- 
 tions, all relating to the personal appearance of 
 the gentleman in green, who had been the 
 comrade of his early ride. 
 
 After all these interrogatories had been an- 
 swered, he mused for a minute or two, and 
 then observed, " No, no, it could not be. This 
 personage in green, Wilton, depend upon it, is 
 some agent of Sir John Fenwick, and the Jaco- 
 bite party. He has got some intimation of your 
 name and situation, and has most likely seen you 
 once or twice in Oxford, where, I am sorry to 
 say, there are too many such as himself. They 
 have fixed their eyes upon you, and depend
 
 156 THE king's highway. 
 
 upon it, there will be many attempts to gain 
 your adherence to an unsuccessful and a des- 
 perate party. Be wise, my dear Wilton, and 
 shun all communication with such people. No 
 one who has not filled such a station as I have 
 can be aware of their manifold arts." 
 
 Wilton promised to be upon his guard, and 
 the conversation dropped there. It had sug- 
 gested, however, a new train of ideas to the 
 mind of the young gentleman — new, I mean, 
 solely in point of combination, for the ideas 
 themselves referred to subjects long known and 
 often thought of. It appeared evident to him, 
 that the question which the Earl had put to him- 
 self in secret, when he heard of his conversation 
 with the man in green, was, " Can this be any 
 one, who really knows the early history of Wil- 
 ton Brown?" and the question which Wilton 
 in turn asked himself, was, '« How is the Earl 
 connected with that early history?" 
 
 Many painful doubts had often suggested 
 themselves to the mind of Wilton Brown in 
 regard to that very subject; and those doubts 
 themseves had prevented him from pressing on
 
 THE king's highway. 157 
 
 the Earl questions which might have brought 
 forth the facts, but which at the same time, 
 he thought, might pain that nobleman most 
 bitterly, if his suspicions should prove accurate. 
 
 The Earl himself had always carefully avoid- 
 ed the subject, and when any accidental words 
 led towards it, had taken evident pains to 
 change the conversation. What had occurred 
 that morning, however, weighed upon Wilton's 
 mind, and he more than once asked himself the 
 question, '* Who and what am I?'* 
 
 There was a painful solution always ready at 
 hand ; but then again he replied to his own 
 suspicions, " The Earl certainly treats me like 
 a noble and generous friend, but not like a 
 father." The conclusion of all these thoughts 
 was, — 
 
 " Even though I may give the Earl a mo- 
 ment's pain, I must ask him the question before 
 he goes to Italy;" and he watched his oppor- 
 tunity for several days, without finding any 
 means of introducing such a topic. 
 
 At length, one morning, when the Earl hap- 
 pened to be saying something farther regarding
 
 158 THE king's highway. 
 
 the young man's future fate, Wilton seized the 
 opportunity and replied, " With me, my dear 
 Lord, the future and the past are alike equally 
 dark and doubtful. I wish, indeed, that I might 
 be permitted to know a little of the latter, at 
 least." 
 
 " Do not let us talk upon that subject at 
 present, Wilton," said the Earl, somewhat im- 
 patiently; " you will know it all soon enough. 
 At on e-and- twenty you shall have all the in- 
 formation that can be given to you." 
 
 But few words more passed on that matter, 
 and they only conveyed a reiteration of the 
 Earl's promise more distinctly. On the after- 
 noon of that day another person was added 
 to the dinner table of the Earl of Sunbur^^ 
 Wilton knew not that any body was coming, 
 till he perceived that the Earl waited for some 
 guest; but at length the Earl of Byerdale 
 was announced, and a tall good-looking man, 
 of some fifty years of age, or perhaps less, 
 entered the room, with that calm, slow, noise- 
 less sort of footstep, which generally accom- 
 panies a disposition either naturally or habit-
 
 THE king's highway. 159 
 
 ually cautious. It is somewhat like the footstep 
 of a cat over a dewy lawn. 
 
 Between the statesman's brows was a deep-set 
 wrinkle, which gave his countenance a sullen and 
 determined character, and the left-hand corner 
 of his mouth, as well as the marking line between 
 the lips and the cheek, were drawn sharply 
 down, as if he were constantly in the presence 
 of somebody he disliked and rather scorned. 
 Yet he strove frequently to smile, made gay 
 and very courteous speeches too, and said small 
 pleasant things with a peculiar grace. He was, 
 indeed, a very gentlemanly and courtly per- 
 sonage, and those who liked him were wont to 
 declare, that it was not his fault if his coun- 
 tenance was somewhat forbidding. By some 
 persons, indeed — as is frequently the case with 
 people of weak and subservient characters — the 
 very sneer upon his lip, and the authoritative 
 frown upon his brow, were received as marks of 
 dignity, and signs of a high and powerful mind. 
 
 Such things, however, did not at all impose 
 upon a man so thoroughly acquainted with 
 courts and cabinets as the Earl of Sunbury,
 
 160 THE king's highway. 
 
 and the consequence was, that Lord Byerdale, 
 with all his coolness, self-confidence, and talent, 
 felt himself second in the company of the 
 greater mind, and though he liked not the 
 feeling, yet stretched his courtesy and polite- 
 ness farther than usual. 
 
 When he entered, he advanced towards the 
 Earl with one of his most bright and placid 
 smiles, apologised for being a little later than 
 his time, was delighted to see the Earl looking 
 rather better, and then turned to see who was 
 the other person in the room, in order to ap- 
 portion his civility accordingly. When he be- 
 held Wilton Brown, the young gentleman's 
 fine person, his high and lofty look, and a cer- 
 tain air of distinction and self-possession about 
 him, though so young, appeared to strike and 
 puzzle him ; but the Earl instantly introduced 
 his 2J7'ote(/e to the statesman, saying, " The young- 
 friend, my Lord, of whom I spoke to you, Mr. 
 Wilton Brown." 
 
 Lord Byerdale was now as polite as he could 
 be, assured the young gentleman that all his 
 small interest could command should be at his
 
 161 
 
 service ; and while he did so, he looked from 
 his countenance to that of the Earl, and from 
 the Earl's to his, as if he were comparing them 
 with one another. Then, again, he glanced 
 his eyes to a beautiful picture by Kneller, of 
 a lady dressed in a fanciful costume, which 
 hung on one side of the drawing-room. 
 
 Wilton remarked the expression of his face 
 as he did so; and his own thoughts, connecting 
 that expression with foregone suspicions, ren- 
 dered it painful. Quitting the room for a mo- 
 ment before dinner was announced, he retired 
 to his own chamber, and looked for an instant 
 in the glass. He was instantly struck by an 
 extraordinary resemblance, between himself and 
 the picture, v>'hich had never occurred to him 
 before. 
 
 In the mean while, as soon as he had 
 quitted the room, the Earl said, in a calm, 
 grave tone to his companion, pointing at the 
 same time to the picture which the other had 
 been remarking, " The likeness is indeed very 
 striking, and might, perhaps, lead one to a sus- 
 picion which is not correct." 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 16*2 THE king's highway. 
 
 " Oh, my dear Lord," replied the courtier, 
 " you must not thmk I meant any thing of the 
 kind. I did remark a slight likeness, perhaps ; 
 but I was admiring the beauty of the portrait. 
 That is a Kneller, of course ; none could paint 
 that but Kneller." 
 
 The Earl bowed his head and turned to the 
 window. '^ It is the portrait," he said, " of 
 one of my mother's family, a third or fourth 
 cousin of my own. Her father. Sir Harry Os- 
 wald, was obliged to fly, you know, for one of 
 those sad affairs in the reign of Charles the 
 Second, and his estates and effects were sold. 
 I bought that picture at the time, with several 
 other things, as memorials of them, poor 
 people." 
 
 " She must have been very handsome," said 
 Lord Byerdale. 
 
 " The painter did her less than justice," re- 
 plied the Earl in the same quiet tone : " she 
 and her father died in France, within a short 
 time of eacb other; and there is certainly a 
 strong likeness between that portrait and Wil- 
 ton. — There is no relationship, however."
 
 THE king's highway. 163 
 
 Notwithstanding the qniet tone in which the 
 Earl spoke, Lord Byerdale kept his own opinion 
 upon the subject, but dropped it as a matter 
 of conversation. The evening passed over as 
 pleasantly as the illness of the Earl would per- 
 mit ; and certainly, if Wilton Brown was not well 
 pleased with the Earl of Byerdale, it was not 
 from any lack of politeness on the part of that 
 gentleman. That he felt no particular incli-^ 
 nation towards him is not to be denied : but 
 nevertheless he was grateful for his kindness, 
 even of demeanour, and doubted not — such 
 was his inexperience of the world — that tlie 
 Earl of Byerdale would always treat him in the 
 same manner. 
 
 After this day, which proved, in reality, an 
 eventful one in the life of Wilton Brown, about 
 a week elapsed before the Earl set out for the 
 Continent. Wilton saw him on board, and 
 dropped down the river with him ; and after his 
 noble friend had quitted the shores of Eng- 
 land, he turned his steps again towards Oxford, 
 without lingering at all in the capital. It 
 must be confessed, that he felt a much greater 
 M 2
 
 164 THE king's highway. 
 
 degree of loneliness, than he had expected to 
 experience on the departure of the Earl. He 
 knew now, for the first time, how much he 
 had depended upon, and loved and trusted, 
 the only real friend that he ever remembered 
 to have had. It is true, that while the Earl 
 v>'as resident in London, and he principally in 
 Oxford^ they sav/ but little of each other ; but 
 still it made a great change, when several coun- 
 tries, some at peace and some at war with 
 England, lay between them, and when the cold 
 melancholy sea stretched its wide barrier to keep 
 them asunder. He felt that he had none to 
 appeal to for advice or aid, when advice or aid 
 should be wanting ; that the director of his 
 youth was gone, and that he was left to win for 
 himself that dark experience of the world's 
 ways, which never can be learned, without 
 paying the sad price of sorrow and disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 Such were naturally his first feelings ; and 
 though the acuteness of them wore away, the 
 impression still remained whenever thought was 
 turned in that direction. He was soon cheered,
 
 THE king's highway. 165 
 
 liov/ever, by a letter from the Earl, informing 
 him of his having arrived safely in Piedmont; 
 and shortly after, the first quarter of his usual 
 allowance was transmitted to him, with a brief 
 polite note from the Earl of Byerdale, in whose 
 hands Lord Sunbiiry seemed entirely to have 
 placed him. Wilton acknowledged the note im- 
 mediately, and then applied himself to his studies 
 again ; but shortly after he was shocked by a 
 rumour reaching him, that his kind friend had 
 been taken prisoner by the French. While he 
 was making inquiries, as diligently as was pos- 
 sible in that place, and was hesitating, as to 
 whether, in order to learn more, he should go 
 to London or not, he received a second epistle 
 from the Earl of Byerdale, couched in much 
 colder terms than his former communication, 
 putting the question of the Earl's capture beyond 
 doubt, and at the same time stating, that as he 
 understood this circumstance was likely to stop 
 the allowance which had usually been made to 
 Mr. Brown, he, the Earl of Byerdale, was 
 anxious to give him some employment as 
 speedily as possible, although that employment 
 M 3
 
 166 THE king's highway. 
 
 might not be such as he could wish to be- 
 stow. He begged him, therefore, to come to 
 London with all speed, to speak with him on 
 the subject, and ended, by assuring him that 
 he was — what Wilton knew him not to be — 
 his very humble and most obedient servant. 
 
 On first reading the note, Wilton had almost 
 formed a rash resolution — had almost deter- 
 mined neither to go to London at all, nor to 
 repose npon the friendship and assistance of the 
 Earl of Byerdale. But recollecting his promise 
 to his noble friend before his departure, he 
 resolved to endure any thing rather than violate 
 such an engagement ; and consequently wrote 
 to say he would wait upon the Earl as soon as 
 the term was over, to the close of which there 
 wanted but a week or two at that time. 
 
 In that week or two, however, Wilton was 
 destined to feel some of the first inconveniences 
 attending a sudden change in his finances. 
 Remembering, that, for the time at least, more 
 than two thirds of his income was gone, he 
 instantly began to contract all his expenses, 
 and suffered, before the end of the term, not
 
 THE king's highway. 167 
 
 a few of the painful followers of comparative 
 poverty. 
 
 He now felt, and felt bitterly, that the small 
 sum which he received from his college would 
 not be sufficient to maintain him at the Uni- 
 versity, even with the greatest economy ; so that 
 besides his promise to the Earl, to accept what- 
 ever Lord Byerdale should offer him, absolute 
 necessity seemed to force him as a dependent' 
 upon that nobleman, at least till he could hear 
 some news of his more generous friend. 
 
 It is an undoubted fact, that small annoy- 
 ances are often more difficult to bear than evils of 
 greater magnitude ; and Wilton felt all those at- 
 tendant upon his present situation most acutely. 
 To appear differently amongst his noble com- 
 rades at the University; to have no longer a 
 horse to join them in their rides ; to be obliged to 
 sell the fine books he had collected, and one or 
 two small pictures by great masters which he had 
 bought ; to be questioned and commiserated by 
 the acquaintances who cared the least for him ; 
 — all these were separate sources of great and 
 acute pain to a feeling and sensitive heart, not 
 M 4
 
 168 THE king's highway. 
 
 yet accustomed to adversity. Wilton, however, 
 liad not been schooling his own mind in vain 
 for the last two years ; and though he felt as 
 much as any one, every privation, yet he suc- 
 ceeded in bearing them all with calmness and 
 fortitude, and perhaps even curtailed every in- 
 dulgence more sternly than was absolutely 
 necessary at the time, from a fear that the re- 
 luctance which he felt might in any degree 
 blind his eyes to that which was just and right. 
 
 A few instruments of music, a few books not 
 absolutely required in his studies, his implements 
 for drawing, and all the little trinkets or gifts 
 of any kind which he had received from the 
 Earl of Sunbury, were the only things that he 
 still preserved, which merited in any degree 
 the name of superfluities. With the sum ob- 
 tained from the sale of the rest, he discharged 
 to the uttermost farthing all the expenses of 
 the preceding term, took his first degree with 
 honour, and then set out upon his journey to 
 London. 
 
 No adventure attended him upon the way ; 
 and on the morning after his arrival, he pre-
 
 169 
 
 sen ted himself at an early hour at the house of 
 the Earl of Byerdale. After waiting for some 
 time, he was received by that nobleman with a 
 cold and stately air ; and having given him a 
 hint, that it would have been more respectful if 
 he had come up immediately to London, instead 
 of waiting at Oxford till the end of the term, 
 the Earl proceeded to inform him of his views. 
 " Our noble and excellent friend, the Earl 
 of Sunbury," said the statesman, " was very 
 anxious, Mr. Brown, that I should receive you 
 as my private secretary. Now, as I informed 
 him, the gentleman whom I have always em- 
 ployed cannot of course be removed from that 
 situation without cause ; but, at the same time, 
 what between my public and my private busi- 
 ness, I have need of greater assistance than he 
 can render me. I have need, in fact, of two 
 private secretaries, and one will naturally suc- 
 ceed the other, when, as will probably be the 
 case, in about six months the first is removed 
 by appointment to a higher office. I will give 
 you till to-morrow to consider, whether the post 
 I now offer you is worth your acceptance. The
 
 170 THE king's highway. 
 
 salary we must make the same as the allowance 
 which has lately unfortunately ceased ; and I am 
 only sorry that I can give you no further time 
 for reflection, as I have already delayed three 
 weeks without deciding between various appli- 
 cants, in order to give you time to arrive in 
 London." 
 
 Wilton replied not at the moment ; for there 
 was certainly not one word said by the Earl which 
 could give him any assignable cause of offence, 
 and yet he was grieved and offended. It was 
 the tone, the manner, the cold haughtiness of 
 every look and gesture that pained him. He 
 was not moved by any boyish conceit ; he 
 was always willing, even in his own mind, to 
 offer deep respect to high rank, or high station, 
 or high talents. He would have been ready 
 to own at once, that the Earl was far superior 
 to himself in all these particulars; but that 
 which did annoy him, as it might annoy any one, 
 was to be made to feel the superiority, at every 
 word, by the language and demeanour of the 
 Earl himself. 
 
 He retired, then, to the inn, where, for the first
 
 THE king's highway. 171 
 
 time during all his many visits to London, he had 
 taken up his residence ; and there, pacing up 
 and down the room, he thought bitterly over 
 Lord Byerdale's proposal. The situation of- 
 fered to him was far inferior to what he had 
 been led to expect; and he evidently saw, that 
 the demeanour of the Earl himself would render 
 every circumstance connected with it painful, 
 or at least unpleasant. Yet, what was he to 
 do? There were, indeed, a thousand other 
 ways of gaining his livelihood, at least till the 
 Earl of Sunbury was set free ; but then, his 
 promise that he would not refuse any thing 
 which was offered by Lord Byerdale again 
 came into his mind, and he determined, with 
 that resolute firmness which characterised him 
 even at an early age, to bear all, and to endure 
 all; to keep his word with the Earl to the 
 letter, and to accept an office, in the execution 
 of which, he anticipated nothing but pain, mor- 
 tification, and discomfort. 
 
 Such being the case, he thought it much 
 better to write his resolutions to the Earl, than 
 to expose himself to more humiliation by speak-
 
 172 THE king's highway. 
 
 ing with him on the subject again. He had 
 suffered sufficiently in their last conversation 
 on that matter, and lie felt that he should have 
 enough to endure in the execution of his 
 duties. He v/rote, indeed, as coldly as the 
 Earl had spoken ; but he made no allusion to 
 nis disappointment, or to any hopes of more 
 elevated employment. He expressed himself 
 ready to commence his labours as soon as the 
 Earl thought right; and in the course of three 
 days was fully established as the second private 
 secretary of the Earl. 
 
 The next three or four months of his life 
 we shall pass over as briefly as possible, for 
 they were checkered by no incident of very 
 great Interest. The Earl employed him daily, 
 but how -did he employ him ? — As a mere clerk. 
 No public paper, no document of any import- 
 ance, passed through his hands. Letters on 
 private business, the details of some estates in 
 Shropshire, copies of long and to him meaning- 
 less accounts, and notes and memorandums, re- 
 ferring to affairs of very little interest, were the 
 occupations given to a man of active, energetic,
 
 173 
 
 and cultivated mind, of eager aspirations, and 
 a glowing fancy. It may be asked, how did 
 the Earl treat him too? — As a clerk ! and not 
 as most men of gentlemanly feeling would treat 
 a clerk. Seldom any salutation marked his 
 entrance into the room, and cold, formal orders 
 were all that he received. 
 
 Wilton bore it all with admirable patience ; he 
 murmured not, otherwise than in secret: but 
 often when he returned to his own solitary 
 room, in the small lodging he had taken for 
 himself in London, the heart within his bosom 
 felt like a newly-imprisoned bird, as if it would 
 beat itself to death against the bars that con- 
 fined it. 
 
 Amidst all this, there was some consolation 
 came. A letter arrived one morning, after 
 this had continued about two months, bearing 
 one postmark from Oxford, and another from 
 Italy. It was from the Earl of Sunbury, wlio 
 was better, and wrote in high spirits. He had 
 been arrested by the French, and having been 
 taken for a general officer of distinction, had 
 been detained for several weeks. But he had
 
 174 THE king's highway. 
 
 been well treated, and set at liberty, as soon 
 as his real name and character was ascer- 
 tained. Only one of Wilton's letters, and 
 that of an early date, had reached him, so 
 that he knew none of the occurrences which 
 placed his young friend in so painful a situa- 
 tion, but conceived him to be still at Oxford, 
 and still possessing the allowance which he had 
 made him. 
 
 The moment he received these tidings, Wil- 
 ton replied to it with a feeling of joy and a 
 hope of deliverance, which showed itself in every 
 line of the details he gave. This letter was 
 more fortunate than the others, and the Earl's 
 answer was received within a month. That 
 answer, however, in some degree disappointed 
 his young friend. Lord Sunbury praised his 
 conduct much for accepting the situation which 
 had been offered ; but he tried to soothe him 
 under the conduct of the Earl of Byerdale, 
 while he both blamed that conduct and cen- 
 sured the Earl in severe terms, for having 
 suffered the allowance which he had autho- 
 rised him to pay to drop in so sudden and un-
 
 THE king's highway. 175 
 
 expected a manner. To guard against the 
 recurrence of such a thing for the future, the 
 Earl enclosed an order on his steward for 
 the sum, with directions that it should be paid 
 in preference to any thing else whatsoever. 
 At the same time, however, he urged Wilton 
 earnestly not to quit the Earl of Byerdale, 
 but to remain in the employment which he 
 had accepted, at least till the return of a more 
 sincere friend from the Continent should afford 
 the prospect of some better and more agree- 
 able occupation. 
 
 Wilton resolved to submit; and as he saw 
 that the Earl was anxious upon the subject, 
 wrote to him immediately, to announce that 
 such was the case. Hope gave him patience ; 
 and the increased means at his command 
 afforded him the opportunity of resuming the 
 habits of that station in which he had always 
 hiiherto moved. In these respects, he was 
 now perfectly at his ease, for his habits were 
 not expensive ; and he could indulge in all, to 
 which his wishes led him, without those careful 
 thoughts which had been forced upon him by
 
 176 THE king's highway. 
 
 the sudden straitening of his means. Such, 
 then, was his situation when, towards the end 
 of about three months, a new change came 
 over his fate, a new era began, in the history of 
 his life.
 
 177 
 
 CHAR XL 
 
 How often is it that a new acquaintance, 
 begun under accidental circumstances, forms 
 an epocha in life ? How often does it change 
 in every respect the current of our days on 
 earth — ay! and affect eternity itself? The 
 point of time at which we form such an ac- 
 quaintance is, in fact, the spot at which two 
 streams meet. There, the w^aters of both are 
 insensibly blended together — the clear and 
 the turbid, the rough and the smooth, the rapid 
 and the slow. Each not only modifies the 
 manner, and the direction, and the progress 
 of the other with which it mingles, but even if 
 any material object separates the united stream 
 again into two, the individuality of both those 
 that originally formed it is lost, and each is 
 affected for ever by the progress they have had 
 together. 
 
 vol. I. N
 
 178 THE king's highway. 
 
 Wilton Brown was now once more moving 
 at ease. He had his horses and his servant, 
 and his small convenient apartments at no 
 great distance from the Earl of Byerdale's. 
 He could enjoy the various objects which the 
 metropolis presented from time to time to satisfy 
 the taste or the curiosity of the public, and 
 he could min2:le in his leisure hours with the 
 few amongst the acquaintances he had made in 
 passing through a public school, or residing at 
 the University, whom he had learned to love 
 or to esteem. He sought them not, indeed, 
 and he courted no great society ; for there was 
 not, perhaps, one amongst those he knew whose 
 taste, and thoughts, and feelings, were alto- 
 a'ether contjenial with his own. Indeed, when 
 any one has found such, in one or two in- 
 stances, throughout the course of life, he may 
 sit himself down saying, " Oh ! happy that 
 I am, in the wide universe of matter and of 
 spirit I am not alone ! There are beings of 
 kindred sympathies linked to myself by ties of 
 love which it never can be the will of Almighty 
 Beneficence that death itself should break ! "
 
 THE king's highway. 179 
 
 If Wilton felt thus towards any one it was 
 towards the Earl of Sunbury; but yet there 
 was a difference between his sensations towards 
 that kind friend and those of which we have 
 spoken, on which we need not pause in this 
 place. Except in his society, however, Wilton's 
 thoughts were nearly alone. There were one 
 or two young noblemen and others, for whom 
 he felt a great regard, a high esteem, a certain 
 degree of habitual affection, but that was all, 
 and thus his time in general passed solitarily 
 enough. 
 
 With the Earl of Byerdale he did not per- 
 haps interchange ten words in three months, 
 although when he was writing in the same 
 room with him he had more than once re« 
 marked the eyes of the Earl fixed stern and 
 intent upon him from beneath their overhang- 
 ing brows, as if he would have asked him some 
 dark and important question, or proposed to him 
 some dangerous and terrible act which he dared 
 hardly name. 
 
 " Were he some Italian minister," thought 
 Wilton, sometimes, *' and I, as at present, his 
 N 2
 
 180 THE king's highway. 
 
 poor secretary, I should expect him every mo- 
 ment to commend the assassination of some 
 enemy to my convenient skill in such affairs." 
 
 At length one morning when he arrived at 
 the house of the Earl to pursue his daily 
 task, he saw a travelling carriage at the door 
 with two servants, English and foreign, dis- 
 encumbering it from the trunks which were 
 thereunto attached in somewhat less convenient 
 guise than in the present day. He took no 
 note, however, and entered as usual, proceeding 
 at once to the cabinet, where he usually found 
 the Earl at that hour. He was there and 
 alone, nor did the entrance of Wilton create 
 any farther change in his proceedings than 
 merely to point to another table, saying, " Three 
 letters to answer there, Mr. Brown — the cor- 
 ners are turned down with directions." 
 
 Wilton sat down and proceeded as usual ; but 
 he had scarcely ended the first letter and begun 
 a second, when the door of the apartment was 
 thrown unceremoniously open, and a young 
 gentleman entered the room, slightly, but very 
 gracefully made, extremely handsome in fea-
 
 181 
 
 tures, but pale in complexion, and with a 
 quick, wandering, and yet marking eye, which 
 seemed to bespeak much of intelligence, but no 
 great steadiness of character. He was dressed 
 strangely enough, in a silk dressing-gown of 
 the richest-flowered embroidery, slippers of 
 crimson velvet embroidered with gold upon his 
 feet, and a crimson velvet nightcap with gold 
 tassels on his head. 
 
 " Why, my dear sir, this is really cruel," 
 cried he, advancing towards the Earl, and 
 speaking in a tone of light reproach, " to go 
 away and leave me, when I come back from 
 twelve or fourteen hundred miles' distance, with- 
 out even waiting to see my most beautiful dress- 
 ing-gown. Really you fathers are becoming 
 excessively undutiful towards your children ! 
 You have wanted some one so long to keep 
 you in order, my Lord, that I see evidently, I 
 shall be obliged to hold a tight hand over you. 
 But tell me, in pity tell me, did you ever see 
 any thing so exquisite as this dressing-gown? 
 Its beauty would be nothing without its superb- 
 ness, and its splendour nothing without its 
 F 3
 
 182 
 
 delicacy. The richness of the silk wouM be 
 lost without the radiant colours of the flowers, 
 and the miraculous taste of the embroidery 
 would be entirely thrown away upon any other 
 stuff than that. In short, one might write a 
 catechism upon it, my Lord. There is nothing 
 on all the earth equal to it. No man has, or 
 has had, or will have, any thing that can com- 
 pete with it. Gold could not buy it. I was 
 obliged to seduce the girl that worked it ; and 
 then, like Ulysses with Circe, I bound her to 
 perform what task I liked. * Produce me,' I 
 exclaimed, 'a dressing-gown ! ' and lo! it stands 
 before you.'* 
 
 Wilton Brown turned his eyes for an instant 
 to the countenance of the Earl of Byerdale, 
 when, to his surprise, he beheld there, for the 
 first time, something that might be called a 
 good-humoured smile. The change of Wilton's 
 position, slight as it was, seemed to call the at- 
 tention of the young gentleman, who instantly 
 approached the table where he sat, exclaiming, 
 " Who is this ? I don't know him. What do you 
 mean, sir," he continued, in the same light tone
 
 THE king's highway. 183 
 
 — " what do you mean, by suffering my father 
 to run riot in this way, while I am gone ? Wliy, 
 sir, I find he has addicted himself to cour- 
 tierism, and to cringing, and to sitting in 
 cabinets, and to making long speeches in the 
 House of Lords, and to all sorts of vices of 
 the same kind, so as nearly to have fallen 
 into prime ministerism. All this is very bad — 
 very bad, indeed " 
 
 " My dear boy," said the Earl, " you will gain 
 the character of a madman without deserving it." 
 
 " Pray, papa, let me alone," replied the 
 young man, affecting a boyish tone ; '•' you only 
 interrupt me : may I ask, sir, what is your 
 name?" he continued, still addressing Wilton. 
 
 " My name, sir," replied the other, slightly 
 colouring at such an abrupt demand, "is Wilton 
 Brown." 
 
 " Then, Wilton, I am very glad to see you," 
 replied the other, holding out his hand — " you 
 are the very person I wanted to see ; for it so 
 happens, that my wise, prudent, and statesman- 
 like friend, the- Earl of Sunbury, having far 
 greater confidence in the security of my noddle 
 N 4
 
 184 
 
 than has my worthy parent here, has entrusted 
 to me for your behoof one long letter, and innu- 
 merable long messages, together with a strong 
 recommendation to you, to take me to your 
 bosom, and cherish me as any old man would 
 do his grandson ; namely, with the most doating, 
 short-sighted, and depraving affection, which 
 can be shown towards a wayward, whimsical, 
 tiresome, capricious boy ; and now, if you don't 
 like my own account of myself, or the specimen 
 you have had this morning, you had better lay 
 down your pen, and come and take a walk with 
 me, in order to shake off your dislike; for it 
 must be shaken off, and the sooner it is done 
 the better." 
 
 The Earl's brow had by this time gathered 
 into a very ominous sort of frown, and he in- 
 formed his son in a stern tone, that his clerk 
 Mr. Brown was engaged in business of im- 
 portance, and would not be free from it, he 
 feared, till three o'clock. 
 
 " Well, my Lord, I will e'en go and sleep till 
 three," replied the young man. " At that hour, 
 Mr. Brown, I will come and seek you. I have
 
 THE king's highway. l85 
 
 an immensity to say to you, all about nothing 
 in the world, and therefore it is absolutely ne- 
 cessary that I should disgorge myself as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 Thus saying, he turned gaily on his heel, 
 and left the Earl's cabinet. 
 
 " You must excuse him, Mr. Brown," said 
 the Earl, as soon as he was gone ; " he is wild 
 with spirits and youth, but he will soon, I trust, 
 demean himself more properly." 
 
 Wilton made no reply, but thought that if 
 the demeanour of the son was not altogether 
 pleasant, the demeanour of the father was ten 
 times worse. When the three letters were 
 written. Lord Byerdale immediately informed 
 Wilton that he should have no farther occupa- 
 tion for him that day, although the clock had 
 not much passed the first hour after noon ; and 
 as it was evident, that he had no inclination 
 to encourage any intimacy between him and 
 his son, the young gentleman retired to his 
 own lodgings, and ordering his horse to be 
 brought round quickly, prepared to take a 
 lengthened ride into the country.
 
 186 THE king's highway. 
 
 Before the horse could be saddled, how- 
 ever, a servant announced Lord Sherbrooke, 
 and the next moment the son of the Earl of 
 Byerdale entered the room. There was some- 
 thing in the name that sounded familiar in the 
 ears of Wilton Brown, he could not tell why. 
 He almost expected to see a familiar face pre- 
 sent itself at the open door; for so little had 
 been the communication between himself and 
 the Earl of Byerdale, that he had never known 
 till that morning that the Earl had a son, nor 
 ever heard the second title of the family before. 
 He received his visiter, however, with pleasure, 
 not exactly for the young nobleman's own sake, 
 but rather on account of the letters and mes- 
 sages which he had promised from the Earl of 
 Sunbury. 
 
 Lord Sherbrooke was now dressed as might 
 well become a man of rank in his day; with 
 a certain spice of foppery in his apparel, in- 
 deed, and with a slight diiference in the fashion 
 and materials of his clothes from those ordina- 
 rily worn in England, which might just mark,
 
 THE king's highway. 187 
 
 to an observing eye, that they had been made 
 in a foreign country. 
 
 His demeanour was much more calm and 
 sedate than it had been in the morning ; and 
 sitting down, he began by a reproach to Wilton, 
 for having gone away without waiting to see 
 him again. 
 
 " The fact is, my Lord," replied Wilton, 
 " that the Earl, though he did not absolutely 
 send me away, gave me such an intimation to 
 depart, that I could not well avoid it." 
 
 " It strikes me, Wilton," said Lord Sher- 
 brooke, familiarly, " that my father is treating 
 you extremely ill; Lord Sunbury gave me a 
 hint of the kind, when I saw him in Rome; and 
 I see that he said even less than the truth." 
 
 " I have no right to complain, my Lord," 
 answered Wilton, after pausing for a moment 
 to master some very painful emotions — " I have 
 no reason to complain, my Lord, of conduct that 
 I voluntarily endure." 
 
 " Very well answered, Wilton ! " replied the 
 young lord, "but not logically, my good friend.
 
 188 THE KINGS HIGHWAY. 
 
 Every gentleman has a right to expect gentle- 
 manly treatment. He has a right to complain 
 if he does not meet with that which he has a 
 right to expect ; and he does not bar himself of 
 that right of complaint, because any circum- 
 stances render it expedient or right for him not 
 to resist the ill-treatment at which he murmurs. 
 However, it is more to your honour that you do 
 not complain ; but I know my father well, and, 
 of course, amongst a great many high qualities, 
 there are some not quite so pleasant. We must 
 mend this matter for you, however, and what I 
 wish to say to you now, is, that you must not 
 spoil all I do, by any pride of that kind which 
 will make you hold back when I pull forward." 
 " Indeed, my Lord," replied Wilton, "you 
 would particularly oblige me by making no 
 effort to change the position in which I am 
 placed. All the communication which takes 
 place between your Lordship's father and my- 
 self is quite sufficient for the transaction of 
 business, and we can never stand in any other 
 relation towards each other than that of minister 
 and private secretary."
 
 189 
 
 " Or clerk^ as he called you to me to-day," 
 said Lord Sherbrooke drily. 
 
 " The name matters very little, my Lord," 
 replied Wilton ; " he calls me secretary to my- 
 self, and such he stated me to be in the little 
 memorandum of my appointment, which he 
 gave me ; but if it please him better to call me 
 clerk, why, let him do it." 
 
 " Oh ! I shall not remonstrate," replied 
 Lord Sherbrooke ; " I never argue with my 
 father. In the first place, it would be undutiful 
 and disrespectful, and I am the most dutiful of 
 all sons; and in the next place, he generally 
 somehow gets the better of me in argument — 
 the more completely the more wrong he is. 
 But, nevertheless, I can find means to drive 
 him, if not to persuade him, to lead him, if not 
 to convince him ; and having had my own vv^ay 
 from childhood up to the present hour — alas! 
 that I should say it, after having taken the way 
 that I have taken — I do not intend to give it 
 up just now, so I will soon drive him to a dif- 
 ferent way with you, while you have no share 
 in the matter, but that of merely suffering me
 
 190 THE king's highway. 
 
 to assume, at once, the character of an old 
 friend, and not an insincere one. On the 
 latter point, indeed, you must believe me to be 
 just as sincere as my father is insincere; for 
 you very well know, Wilton, that, in this world 
 of ours, it is much more by avoiding the 
 faults than by following the virtues of our 
 parents, that we get on in life. Every fool can 
 see where his father is a fool, and can take care 
 not to be foolish in the same way ; but it is 
 a much more difficult thing to appreciate a 
 father's wisdom, and learn to be wise like 
 him." 
 
 '* The latter, my Lord, I should think, would 
 be the nobler endeavour," replied Wilton ; 
 " though I cannot say what would have been 
 my own case, if I had ever had the happiness 
 of knowing a father's care." 
 
 Lord Sherbrooke for a moment or two made 
 no reply, but looked down upon the ground, 
 apparently struck by the tone in which Wilton 
 spoke. He answered at length, however, 
 raising his eyes with one of his gay looks, 
 * After all, we are but mortals, my dear Wil-
 
 THE king's highway. 191 
 
 ton, and we must have our little follies and 
 vices. I would not be an angel for the world, 
 for my part ; and besides — for so staid and 
 sober a young man as you are — you forget that 
 I have a duty to perform towards my father, 
 to check him when I see him going wrong, 
 and to put him in the right way; to afford him, 
 now and then, a little filial correction, and take 
 care of his morals and his education. Why, 
 if he had not me to look after him, I do not 
 know what would become of him. However, I 
 see," he added in a graver tone, " that I must 
 not jest with you, until you know me and 
 understand me better. What I mean is, that 
 we are to be friends, remember. It is all 
 arranged between the Earl of Sunbury and 
 myself. We are to be friends, then ; and such 
 being the case, I will take care that my Lord 
 of Byerdale does not call my friend his clerk, 
 nor treat him in any other manner than as my 
 friend. And now, Wilton, set about the matter 
 as fast as ever j^ou can. There is my letter of 
 recommendation from the Earl of Sunbury, 
 which I hope will break down some barriers.
 
 192 THE king's highway. 
 
 the rest I must do for myself. You will find 
 me full of faults, full of follies, and full of vices; 
 for though it may be a difficult thing to be full 
 of three things at once, yet the faults, follies, 
 and vices within me seem to fill me altogether, 
 each in turn, and yet altogether. In fact, they 
 put me in mind of two liquids with which I once 
 saw an Italian conjurer perform a curious trick. 
 He filled a glass with a certain liquid, which 
 looked like water, up to the very brim, and then 
 poured in a considerable quantity of another 
 liquid without increasing the liquid in the glass 
 by a drop. Now sometimes my folly seems to 
 fill me so completely, that I should think there 
 was no room for vices, but those vices find some 
 means to slip in, without incommoding me in 
 the least. However, I will leave you now to 
 read your letters, and to wonder at your sage 
 and prudent friend, the Earl of Sunburj^, 
 having introduced to your acquaintance, and 
 recommended to your friendship, one who has 
 made half the capitals of Europe ring with 
 his pranks. The secret is, Wilton, that the 
 Earl knows both me and you. He pays you
 
 THE king's highway. 193 
 
 the liigli compliment of thinking you can be 
 the companion of a very faulty man, without ac- 
 quiring his faults ; and he knows that, though 
 I cannot cure myself of my own errors, I hate 
 them too much to wish any one to imitate 
 them. When you have done reading," he 
 added, " come and join me at Monsieur Fau- 
 belt's Riding School, in the lane going up to 
 the Oxford Road : I see j^our horse at the 
 door — I will get one there, and we will have 
 a ride in the country. By heavens, what a 
 beautiful picture ! It is quite a little gem. 
 That child's head must be a Correggio." 
 
 " I believe it is," replied Wilton : ''I saw it 
 accidentally at an auction, and bought it for a 
 mere trifle." 
 
 " You have the eye of a judge," replied his 
 companion. " Do not be long ere you join 
 me ;" and looking at every little object of orna- 
 ment or luxury that the room contained, stand- 
 ing a minute or two before another picture, 
 taking up, and examining all over, a small 
 bronze urn, that stood on one of the tables, 
 and criticising the hilts of two or three of 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 THE king's highway. 
 
 Wilton's swords, that stood in the corner of 
 the room, he made his way out, like Hamlet, 
 " without his eyes," and left his new acquaint- 
 ance to read his letter in peace. 
 
 In that letter, which was in every respect 
 most kind, Wilton found that the Earl gave a 
 detailed account of the character of the young 
 nobleman who had just left him. He repre- 
 sented him, very much as he had represented 
 himself, full of follies, and, unfortunately, but 
 too much addicted to let those follies run into 
 vices. " Though he neither gambled nor drank 
 for pleasure," the Earl said, " yet, as if for 
 variety, he would sometimes do both to excess. 
 In other respects, he had lived a life of great 
 profligacy, seeming utterly careless of the re- 
 proaches of any one, and rather taking means 
 to make any fresh act of licence genei'ally 
 known, than to conceal it. Nor is this," con- 
 tinued the Earl, " from that worst of all vani- 
 ties, which attaches fame to what is infamous, 
 and confounds notoriety with renown^ but ra- 
 ther from a sort of daringness of disposition, 
 which prompts him to avow openly any act .
 
 THE king's highway. 195 
 
 to which there may be risk attached. With all 
 these bad qualities," the Earl proceeded, *' there 
 are many good ones. To be bold as a lion is 
 but a corporeal endowment, but he adds to that 
 the most perfect sincerity and frankness. He 
 would neither falsify his word nor deny an 
 act that he has committed for the world. His 
 mind is sufficiently acute, and his heart suffi- 
 ciently good to see distinctly the evils of un- 
 bridled licence, and to condemn it in his own 
 case ; and he is the last man in the world who 
 would lead or encourage any one in that course 
 which he has pursued himself. In short, his 
 own passions are as the bonds cast around the 
 Hebrew giant when he slept, to give him over 
 into the hands of any one who chooses to lead 
 him into wrong. The consecrated locks of the 
 Nazarite — I mean, purity and innocence of heart 
 — have been shorn away completely in the lap of 
 one Delilah or another ; and though he hates 
 those who hold him captive, he is constrained to 
 follow where they lead. I think you may do 
 him good, Wilton ; I am certain he can do you 
 no harm : I believe that he is capable, and I 
 o 2
 
 196 THE K1>!g's highway. 
 
 am certain that he is willing, to make your 
 abode in London more pleasant to you, and 
 to open that path for your advancement, which 
 his father would have put you in, if he had 
 fulfilled the promises that he made to me."
 
 THE king's highway. 197 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 A FEW weeks made a considerable change in 
 the progress of the life of Wilton Brown. He 
 found the young Lord Sherbrooke all that he 
 had been represented to be in every good 
 point of character, and less in every evil point. 
 He did not, it is true, studiously veil from his 
 new friend his libertine habits, or his light 
 and reckless character; but it so happened, 
 that when in society with Wilton his mind 
 seemed to find food and occupation of a higher 
 sort, and, on almost all occasions, when con- 
 versing with him, he showed himself, as he 
 might always have appeared, a high-bred and 
 well-informed gentleman, who, though somewhat 
 wild and rash, possessed a cultivated mind, a 
 rich and playful fancy, and a kind and honour- 
 able heart. 
 
 Wilton soon discovered that he could be- 
 o 3
 
 198 
 
 come attached to him, and ere long he found a 
 new point of interest in the character of his young 
 companion, which was a sort of dark and solemn 
 gloom that fell upon him from time to time, 
 and would seize him in the midst of his gayest 
 moments, leaving him, for the time, plunged in 
 deep and sombre meditations. This strange fit 
 w^as very often succeeded by bursts of gaiety 
 and merriment, to the full as wild and joyous as 
 those that went before ; and Wilton's curiosity 
 and sympathy were both excited by a state 
 of mind which he marked attentively, and 
 which, though he did not comprehend it en- 
 tirely, showed him that there was some grief 
 hidden but not vanquished in the heart. 
 
 Lord Sherbrooke did not see the inquiring 
 eyes of his friend fixed upon him without no- 
 tice ; and one day he said, " Do not look at 
 me in these fits, Wilton ; and ask me no ques- 
 tions. It is the evil spirit upon me, and he 
 must have his hour." 
 
 As the time passed on, Wilton and the young 
 lord became daily companions, and the Earl 
 could not avoid showing, at all events, some
 
 199 
 
 civility to the constant associate of his son. He 
 gradually began to converse with him more 
 frequently. He even ventured, every now and 
 then, upon a smile. He talked for an instant, 
 sometimes, upon the passing events of the day; 
 and, once or twice, asked him to dine, when he 
 and his son would otherwise have been tete-d-tete. 
 All this was pleasant to Wilton; for Lord 
 Sherbrooke managed it so well, by merely 
 marking a particular preference for his society, 
 that there was no restraint or force in the 
 matter, and the change worked itself gradually 
 without any words or remonstrance. In the 
 midst of all this, however, one little event oc- 
 curred, which, though twenty other things might 
 have been of much more importance and much 
 more disagreeable in their consequences, pained 
 Wilton in a greater degree than any thing he 
 had endured. : 
 
 One day, when the Earl was confined to his 
 drawing-room by a slight fit of gout, Wilton 
 had visited him for a moment, to obtain more 
 particular directions in regard to something 
 which he had been directed ]to write. Just as 
 o 4
 
 200 THE king's highway. 
 
 he had received those directions, and was about 
 to retire, the Duke of Gaveston was announced; 
 and in passing through a second room beyond, 
 into which tlie Earl could see, Wilton came 
 suddenly upon the Duke, and in him at once 
 recognised the nobleman whom he had aided in 
 delivering from the clutches of some gentlemen 
 practitioners on the King's Highway. Their 
 meeting was so sudden, that the Duke, though he 
 evidently recollected instantly the face of Wilton 
 Brown, could not connect it with the circum- 
 stances in which he had seen it. Wilton, on 
 his part, merely bowed and passed on ; and the 
 Duke, advancing to Lord Byerdale, asked at 
 once, " Who is that young gentleman? his 
 face is quite familiar to me." 
 
 " It is only my clerk," replied the Earl in 
 a careless tone. " I hope your Grace received 
 my letter." 
 
 Wilton had not yet quitted the room, and heard 
 it all ; but he went out without pause. When 
 the door was closed behind him, however, he 
 stood for a moment gazing sternly upon the 
 ground, and summoning every good and firm
 
 THE king's highway. 201 
 
 feeling to his aid. Nor was he unsuccessful : he 
 once more conquered the strong temptation to 
 throw up his employment instantly ; and, asking 
 himself, ^' What have I to do with pride?" 
 he proceeded with his daily task as if nothing 
 had occurred. 
 
 No consequences followed at the moment; 
 but before we proceed to the more active busi- 
 ness of our story, we must pause upon one 
 other incident, of no great apparent importance, 
 but which the reader will connect aright with 
 the other events of the tale. 
 
 Two mornings after that of which we have 
 spoken, the Earl came suddenly into the room 
 where Wilton was writing, and interrupted him 
 in what he was about by saying, " I wish, Mr. 
 Brown, you would have the goodness to write, 
 under my dictation, a letter, which is of some 
 importance." 
 
 Brown bowed his head, and taking fresh 
 paper, proceeded to write down the Earl's words 
 as follows : — 
 
 " Sir, immediately upon the receipt of this, 
 you will be pleased to proceed to the village of
 
 202 THE king's highway. 
 
 •, in the county of ■, and make Im- 
 
 mediate inquiries, once more, in regard to the 
 personages concerning whom you instituted an 
 investigation some ten or twelve years ago. 
 Any additional documents you may procure, 
 concerning Colonel Sherbrooke, Colonel Len- 
 nard Sherbrooke, or any of the other parties con- 
 cerned in the transactions which you know of 
 as taking place at that time, you will be pleased 
 to send to me forthwith." 
 
 Wilton perceiving that the Earl did not pro- 
 ceed, looked up as if to see whether he had 
 concluded or not. The Earl's eyes were fixed 
 upon him with a stern intense gaze, as if 
 he would have read his very soul. Wilton's 
 looks, on the contrary, were so perfectly un- 
 conscious, so innocent of all knowledge that 
 he was doing any thing more than writing an 
 ordinary letter of business, that — if the Earl's 
 gaze was intended to interpret his feelings by 
 any of those external marks, which betray the 
 secrets of the heart, by slight and transitory 
 characters written on nature's record book, the 
 face — he was convinced at once that there was
 
 THE king's highway. 203 
 
 nothing concealed below. His brow relaxed, 
 and he went on dictating, while the young 
 gentleman proceeded calmly to write. 
 
 " You will be particular," the letter went on, 
 "to inquire what became of the boy, as his 
 name was not down in the list found upon 
 the captain's person ; and you will endeavour 
 to discover what became of the boat that 
 carried Lennard Sherbrooke and the boy to 
 the ship, and whether all on board it perished 
 in the storm, or not." 
 
 The Earl still watched Wilton's countenance 
 with some degree of earnestness ; and, to say 
 the truth, if his young companion had not 
 been put upon his guard, by detecting the first 
 stern, dark glance the minister had given him, 
 some emotion might have been visible in his 
 countenance, some degree of thoughtful inquiry 
 in his manner, as he asked, " To whom am I to 
 address it, my Lord?" 
 
 The words of the Earl, in directing an in- 
 quiry about the fisherman, the boy, the boat, 
 and the wreck, seemed to connect themselves 
 with strange figures in the past — figures which
 
 204 
 
 appeared before his mind's eye vague and 
 misty, such as we are told the shadows always 
 appear at first which are conjured up by the 
 cabalistic words of a necromancer. He felt 
 that there was some connecting link between 
 himself and the subject of the Earl's investiga- 
 tion ; what, he could not tell : but whatever it 
 was, his curiosity was stimulated to tax his me- 
 mory to the utmost, and to try by any means 
 to lead her to a right conclusion, through the 
 intricate ways of the past. 
 
 That first gaze of the Earl, however, had 
 excited in his bosom not exactly suspicion, 
 but that inclination to conceal his feelings, 
 which we all experience when we see that some 
 one whom we neither love nor trust is en- 
 deavouring to unveil them. He therefore would 
 not suffer his mind to rest upon any inquiry in 
 regard to the past, till the emotions which it 
 might produce could be indulged unwatched, 
 and applying to the mechanical business of the 
 pen, he wrote on to the conclusion, and then 
 demanded, simply, " To whom am I to address 
 it?"
 
 THE king's highway. 205 
 
 " To Mr. Shea," replied the Earl, « my 
 agent in Waterford, to whom you have written 
 before;" and there the conversation dropped. 
 
 The Earl took the letter to sign it ; but now 
 that it was done, he seemed indifferent about 
 its going, and put it into a portfolio, where it 
 remained several days before it was sent. 
 
 As soon as he could escape, Wilton Brown 
 retired to his own dwelling, and there gave 
 himself up to thought; but the facts, which 
 seemed floating about in the dark gulf of the 
 past, still eluded the grasp of memory, as she 
 strove to catch them. There was something, 
 indeed, which he recollected of a boat, and a 
 storm at sea, and a fisherman's cabin, and still 
 the name of Sherbrooke rang in his ears, as 
 something known in other days. But it came 
 not upon him with the same freshness which 
 it had done when first he heard the title of the 
 Earl of Byerdale's son ; and he could recall no 
 more than the particulars we have mentioned, 
 though the name of Lcnnard seemed familiar 
 to him also. 
 
 While he was in this meditative mood,^pon-
 
 206 THE king's highway. 
 
 dering thoughtfully over the past, and extract- 
 ing little to satisfy him from a record which 
 time, unfortunately, had effaced, he was inter- 
 rupted by the coming of the young Lord Sher- 
 brooke, who now was accustomed to enter 
 familiarly without any announcement. On the 
 present occasion his step was more rapid than 
 usual, his manner more than commonly excited, 
 and the moment he had cast himself into a 
 chair he burst into a long loud peal of laughter. 
 " In the name of Heaven," he exclaimed, 
 " what piece of foolery do you think my 
 worthy father has concocted now? On my 
 honour, I believe that he is mad, and only fear 
 that he has transmitted a part of his madness 
 to me. Think of every thing that is ridiculous, 
 Wilton, that you can conceive ; let your mind 
 run free over every absurd combination that it 
 is possible to fancy ; think of all that is stupid 
 or mad-like in times present or past, and then 
 tell me what it is that my father intends to 
 do." 
 
 " I really do not know, Sherbrooke," replied 
 his friend ; " but nothing, I dare say, half so
 
 THE king's highway. 207 
 
 bad as you would have me believe. Your 
 father is much too prudent and careful a man 
 to do any thing that is absurd." 
 
 " You don't know him, Wilton, you don't 
 know him," replied Lord Sherbrooke; "for the 
 sake of power or of wealth he has the courage 
 to do any thing on earth that is absurd, and 
 for revenge he has the courage to do a great 
 deal more. In regard to revenge, indeed, I 
 don't mind : he is quite right there ; for surely 
 if we are bound to be grateful to a man that 
 does good to us, we are bound to revenge our- 
 selves upon him who does us wrong. Besides, 
 revenge is a gentlemanlike passion ; but avarice 
 and ambition are certainly the two most un- 
 gentlemanlike propensities in human nature." 
 
 " Not ambition surely," exclaimed Wilton. 
 
 " The worst of all !" cried his friend, " the 
 worst of all ! Avarice is a gentleman to am- 
 bition ! Avarice is merely a tinker, a dealer in 
 old metal ; but ambition is a chimney-sweep of 
 a passion: a mere climbing-boy, who will go 
 through any dirty hole in all Christendom only 
 to get out at the top of the chimney. But you
 
 208 THE king's highway. 
 
 have not guessed, Wilton, you have not guessed. 
 To it ! and tell me, what is the absurd thing 
 my father proposes to do ? '* 
 
 Wilton shook his head, and said that he 
 could in no way divine. 
 
 " To marry me, Wilton, to marry me to a 
 lady rich and fair," replied the young lord : 
 " what think you of that, Wilton ? — you who 
 know me, what think you of that?" 
 
 " Why, if I must really say the truth," re- 
 plied Wilton, " I think the Earl has very na- 
 turally considered your happiness before that of 
 the lady." 
 
 " As well gilded a sarcasm that," replied 
 Lord Sherbrooke, " as if it had come from my 
 father's own lips. However, what you say is 
 very true : the poor unfortunate girl little knows 
 what the slave merchants are devising for her. 
 My father has dealt with hers, and her father 
 has dealt with mine, and settled all affairs be- 
 tween them, it seems, without our knowledge or 
 participation in any shape. I was the first 
 of the two parties concerned who received the 
 word of command to march and be married.
 
 THE king's highway. 209 
 
 and as yet the unfortunate victim is unac- 
 quainted with the designs against her peace 
 and happiness for hfe." 
 
 " Nay, nay," replied Wilton, almost sorrow- 
 fully, " speak not so lightly of it. What have 
 you done, Sherbrooke ? for Heaven's sake, what 
 have you done ? If you have consented to marry, 
 let me hope and trust that you have determined 
 firmly to change your conduct, and not indeed^ 
 as you say, to ruin the poor girl's peace and 
 happiness for life." 
 
 " Oh ! I have consented," replied Lord Sher- 
 brooke, in the same gay laughing tone ; " you 
 do not suppose that I would refuse beauty, and 
 sweetness, and twenty thousand a year. I am 
 not as mad as my father. Oh ! I consented 
 directly. I understand, she is the great beauty 
 of the day. She will see very little of me, and 
 I shall see very little of her, so we shall not 
 weary of one another. Oh ! I am a very wise 
 man, indeed. I only wanted what our friend 
 Launcelot calls ' a trifle of wives' to be Kinc" 
 
 n 
 
 Solomon himself. Why you know that for the 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 THE king's highway. 
 
 other cattle which distinguished that great mon- 
 arch I am pretty well provided." 
 
 Wilton looked down upon the ground with 
 a look of very great pain, while imagination 
 pictured what the future life of some young 
 and innocent girl might be, bound to one so 
 wild, so heedless, and dissolute as Lord Sher- 
 brooke. He remained silent, however, for he 
 did not dare to trust himself with any farther 
 observations ; and when he looked up again, he 
 found his friend gazing at him with an expres- 
 sion on his countenance in some degree sorrow- 
 ful, in some degree reproachful, but with a 
 look of playful meaning flickering through the 
 whole. 
 
 " Now does your solemnity, and your gravity," 
 said Lord Sherbrooke, " and your not yet 
 understanding me, almost tempt me, Wilton, 
 to play some wild and inconceivable trick, just 
 for the purpose of opening your eyes, and 
 letting you see, that your friend is not such an 
 unfeeling rascal as the world gives out." 
 
 " I know you are not, my dear Sherbrooke, 
 I am sure you are not," replied Wilton, grasp-
 
 THE king's highway. 211 
 
 ing warmly the hand which Lord Sherbrooke 
 held out to him ; " I w^as wrong for not seeing 
 that you were in jest, and for not discovering 
 at once that you had not consented. But how 
 does the Earl bear your refusal ? " 
 
 " You are as wrong as ever, my dear Wilton," 
 replied his friend in a more serious tone — "I 
 have consented ; for if I had not, it must have 
 made an irreparable breach between my father 
 and myself, which you well know I sliould not 
 consider desirable — I must obey him some- 
 times, you know, "Wilton — He had pledged 
 himself, too, that I should consent. However, 
 to set your mind at rest, I will tell you the 
 loop-hole at which I creep out. Her father, it 
 seems, is not near so sanguine as my father, in 
 regard to his child's obedience, and he is, more- 
 over, an odd old gentleman, who has got into 
 his head a strange antiquated notion, that the 
 inclinations of the people to be married have 
 something to do with such transactions. He 
 therefore bargained, that his consent should be 
 dependent upon the young lady's approbation 
 of me when she sees me. In fact, I am bound 
 p 2
 
 212 
 
 to court, and she to be courted. My father is 
 bound that I shall marry her if she likes me, 
 her father is bound to give her to me if she 
 likes to be given. Now what I intend, Wilton, 
 is, that she should not like me. So this very 
 evening you must come with me to the theatre, 
 and there we shall see her together, for I know 
 where she is to be. To-morrow I shall be 
 presented to her in form, and if she likes to 
 have me, after all I have to say to her, why it 
 is her fault, for I will take care she shall not 
 have ignorance to plead in regard to my wor- 
 shipful character." 
 
 Wilton would fain have declined going to 
 the theatre that night, for, to say the truth, his 
 heart was somewhat heavy; but Lord Sher- 
 brooke would take no denial, jokingly saying 
 that he required some support under the emo- 
 tions and agitating circumstances which he was 
 about to endure. As soon as this was settled. 
 Lord Sherbrooke left him, agreeing to call for 
 him in his carriage at the early hour of a 
 quarter before five o'clock ; for such, however, 
 were the more rational times and seasons of
 
 THE king's highway. 213 
 
 our ancestors, that one could enjoy the high 
 intellectual treat of seeing a good play per- 
 formed from beginning to end, without either 
 changing one's dinner hour, or going with the 
 certainty of indigestion and headache. 
 
 p 3
 
 214 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 Far more punctual than was usual with him, 
 Lord Sherbrooke was at the door of Wilton 
 Brown exactly at the hour he had appointed; 
 and, getting into his carriage, they speedily 
 rolled on from the neighbourhood of St. James's 
 Street, then one of the most fashionable parts 
 of the metropolis, to Russell Street, Covent 
 Garden. The young lord, however, though 
 evidently anxious to be early at the theatre, 
 could not resist his inclination to take a look 
 into the Rose, and, finding several persons 
 whom he knew there, he lingered for a con- 
 siderable time, introducing Wilton to a number 
 of the wits and celebrated men of the day. 
 
 The play had thus begun before they entered 
 the theatre, and the liouse was filled so com- 
 pletely that it was scarcely possible to obtain a 
 seat.
 
 215 
 
 As if with a knowledge that his young com- 
 panion was anxious to see the ill-fated lady 
 destined by her friends to be the bride of a 
 wild and reckless libertine. Lord Sherbrooke 
 affected to pay no attention whatsoever to any 
 thing but what w^as passing on the stage. 
 During the first act Wilton was indeed as- 
 much occupied as himself with the magic of 
 the scene ; but when the brief pause between 
 the acts took place, his eyes wandered round 
 those boxes in which the high nobility of the 
 land usually were found, to see if he could 
 discover the victim of the Earl of Byerdale's 
 ambition. 
 
 There were two boxes on the opposite side 
 of the house, towards one or the other of 
 which almost all eyes were turned, and to the 
 occupants of which all the distinguished young 
 men in the house seemed anxious to pay their 
 homage. In one of those boxes was a very 
 lovely woman of about seven or eight and 
 twenty, sitting with a queenly air to receive 
 the humble adoration of the gay and flut- 
 tering admirers who crowded round her. Her 
 p 4
 
 216 THE king's highway. 
 
 brow was high and broad, but slightly con- 
 tracted, so that a certain haughtiness of air 
 in her whole figure and person was fully kept 
 in tone by the expression of her face. For 
 a moment or two Wilton looked at her with 
 a slight smile, as he said in his own heart, 
 " If that be the lady destined for Sherbrooke, 
 I pity her less than I expected, for she seems 
 the very person either to rule him or care little 
 about him." 
 
 The next moment, however, a more perfect 
 recollection of all that Lord Sherbrooke had 
 said, led him to conclude that she could not be 
 the person to whom he had alluded. He had 
 spoken of her as a girl, as of one younger than 
 himself; whereas the lady who was reigning in 
 the stage box was evidently older, and had 
 more the appearance of a married than a single 
 woman. 
 
 Wilton then turned his eyes to the other 
 box of which we have spoken ; and in it there 
 was also to be seen a female figure seated near 
 the front with another lady ; while somewhat 
 further back, appeared the form of an elderly
 
 THE king's highway. 217 
 
 gentleman with a star upon the left breast. 
 Towards that box, as we have before said, 
 many eyes were turned ; and from the space * 
 below, as well as from other parts of the house, 
 the beaux of the day were gazing in evident 
 expectation of a bow, or a smile, or a mark of 
 recognition. Nevertheless, in neither of the 
 ladies which that box contained was there, as 
 far as Wilton could see. any of those little arts 
 but too often used for the purpose of attracting 
 attention, and which, to say the truth, were 
 displayed in a remarkable manner by the lady 
 in the other box we have mentioned. There 
 was no fair hand stretched out over the 
 cushions ; no fringed glove cast negligently 
 down; no fan waved gracefully to give emphasis 
 to what was said; but, on the contrary, the 
 whole figure of the lady in the front remained 
 tranquil and calm, with much grace and beauty 
 in the attitude, but none even of that flutter of 
 consciousness which often betrays the secrets of 
 
 * I have not said "the pit," because the intruders of 
 fashion had not then been actually driven from the stage 
 itself, especially between the acts.
 
 218 THE king's highway. 
 
 vanity. The expression of the face, indeed, 
 Wilton could not see, for the head vvas turned 
 towards the stage ; and though the lady looked 
 round more than once during the interval 
 between the acts to speak to those behind 
 her in the box, the effect was only to turn her 
 face still farther from his gaze. 
 
 At length the play went on, and at the end 
 of the second act a slight movement enabled 
 Lord Sherbrooke and Wilton to advance further 
 towards the stage, so that the latter was now 
 nearly opposite to the box in which one of the 
 beauties of the day was seated. He imme- 
 diately turned in that direction, as did Lord 
 Sherbrooke at the same moment; and Wilton, 
 with a feeling of pain that can scarcely be de- 
 scribed, beheld in the fair girl who seemed to 
 be the unwitting object of so much admiration, 
 no other than the young lady whom he had 
 aided in rescuing when attacked, as we have 
 before described, by the gentry who in those 
 days frequented so commonly the King's High- 
 way. 
 
 Though now di'essed with splendour, as be*
 
 THE king's highway. 219 
 
 came her rank and station, there was in her 
 whole countenance the same simple unaffected 
 look of tranquil modesty which Wilton had 
 remarked there before, and in which he had 
 fancied he read the story of a noble mind and 
 a fine heart, rather undervaluing than other- 
 wise the external advantages of beauty and 
 station, but dignified and raised by the con- 
 sciousness of purity, cultivation, and high 
 thoughts. The same look was there, modest 
 yet dignified, diffident yet self-possessed ; and 
 while he became convinced that there sat the 
 bride selected by the Earl of Byerdale for his 
 son, he was equally convinced that she was the 
 person of all others whose fate would be the 
 most miserable in such an union. 
 
 At the same moment, too, his heart was 
 moved by sensations that may be very difficult 
 accurately to describe. To talk of his being 
 in love with the fair girl before him would, 
 in those days as in the present, have been 
 absurd ; to say that he had remembei'ed her 
 with any thing like hope, would not be true, 
 for he had not hoped in the slightest degree.
 
 220 THE king's highway, 
 
 nor even dreamed of hope. But what he had 
 done was this — he had thought of her often 
 and long; he had recollected the few hours 
 spent in her society with greater pleasure than 
 any he had known in life ; he had remembered 
 her as the most beautiful person he had ever 
 seen — and indeed to him she was so ; for not 
 only were her features, and her form, and her 
 complexion, all beautiful according to the rules 
 of art, but they were beautiful also according 
 to that modification of beauty which best suited 
 his own taste. The expression, too, of her 
 countenauce — and she had much expression of 
 countenance when conversing with any one she 
 liked — was beautiful and varying ; and the 
 grace of her movements and the calm quietness 
 of her carriage were of the kind which is always 
 most pleasing to a high and cultivated mind. 
 
 He had I'ecollected her, then, as the most beau- 
 tiful creature he had ever seen ; but there was 
 also a good deal of imaginative interest attached 
 to the circumstances in which they had first met; 
 and he often thought over them with pleasure, 
 as forming a little bright spot in the midst of a
 
 221 
 
 somewhat dull and monotonous existence. In 
 short, all these memories made it impossible for 
 him to feel towards her as he did towards other 
 women. There was admiration, and interest, 
 and high esteem — It wanted, sm'ely, but a little 
 of being love. One thing is very certain — 
 Wilton would have heard that she was about to 
 be married to any one with no inconsiderable 
 degree of pain. It would have cost him a sigh ; 
 it would have made him feel a deep regret. 
 He would not have been in the slightest de- 
 gree disappointed, for hope being out of the 
 question he expected nothing ; but still he might 
 regret. 
 
 Now, however, when he thought that she was 
 about to be importuned to marry one for whom he 
 might himself feel very deep and sincere regard, 
 on account of some high and noble qualities of 
 the heart, but whose wild and reckless liber- 
 tinism could but make her miserable for ever, 
 the pain that he experienced caused him to 
 turn very pale. The next moment the blood 
 rushed up again into his cheek, seeing Lord 
 Sherbrooke glance his eyes rapidly from the
 
 22*2 THE king's highway. 
 
 box in which she sat to his conntenance, and 
 then to the box again. 
 
 At that very same moment, the Duke, who 
 was the gentleman sitting on the opposite side 
 of the box, bent forward and whispered a few 
 words to his daughter : the blood suddenly rush- 
 ed up into her cheek ; and with a look rather of 
 anxiety and apprehension than any thing else, 
 she turned her eyes instantly towards the spot 
 where Wilton stood. Her look was changed 
 in a moment ; for though she became quite pale, 
 a bright smile beamed forth from her lip ; and 
 though she put her hand to her heart, she 
 bowed markedly and graciously toward her 
 young acquaintance, directing instantly towards 
 that spot the looks of all the admirers who 
 surrounded the box. 
 
 The words v/liich the Duke spoke to her were 
 very simple, but led to an extraordinary mis- 
 take. He had in the morning communicated 
 to her the proposal which had been made 
 for her marriage with Lord Sherbrooke, and 
 she, who had heard something of his charac- 
 ter, had shrunk with alarm from the very idea.
 
 THE king's highway. 2*23 
 
 When her father, however, now said to her, 
 " There is Lord Sherbrooke just opposite," and 
 directed her attention to the precise spot, her 
 eyes instantly fell upon Wilton. 
 
 She recollected her father's observation in 
 regard to tlie name he had given at the inn 
 beinof an assumed one: his fine commandin<y 
 person, his noble countenance, his lordly look, 
 and the taste and fashion of his dress, all made 
 her for the moment believe that in him she be- 
 held the person proposed for her future hus- 
 band. At the same time she could not forget 
 that he had rendered her an essential service. 
 He had displayed before her several of those 
 qualities which peculiarly draw forth the ad- 
 miration of women — courage, promptitude, 
 daring, and skill; his conversation had delight- 
 ed and surprised her ; and, to say truth, he had 
 created in her bosom during that short inter- 
 view such prepossessions in his favour, that to 
 hear he was the person who now solicited her 
 hand, instead of the creature which her imagina- 
 tion had portrayed as Lord Sherbrooke, was no 
 small relief to her heart. It seemed as if a load
 
 2*24 THE king's highway. 
 
 was taken off her bosom ; and such was the cause 
 of those emotions, the expression of which upon 
 her countenance we have ah'eady told. 
 
 It was not, indeed, that she believed herself 
 the least in love with Wilton Brown, but she 
 felt that she could love him,, and that feeling was 
 quite enough. It was enough, while she fan- 
 cied that he was Lord Sherbrooke, to agitate 
 her with joy and hope ; and, though the mistake 
 lasted but a short time, the feelings that it pro- 
 duced were sufficient to effect a change in all 
 her sensations tovv'ards him through life. During 
 the brief space that the mistake lasted, she 
 looked upon him, she thought of him, as the 
 man who was to be her husband. Had it not 
 been for that misunderstanding, the idea of 
 such an union between herself and him would 
 most likely never have entered into her mind ; 
 but once having looked upon him in that light, 
 even for five minutes, she never could see him 
 or speak with him without a recollection of the 
 fact, without a reference, however vague, ill- 
 defined, and repressed in her own mind, to
 
 THE king's highway. 2*25 
 
 the feelings and thous^lits wliicli she had then 
 entertained. 
 
 Lord Sherbrooke remarked the changhig co- 
 lour, the look of recognition on both partSj the 
 glad smile, and the inclination of the head. 
 
 *• Why, Wilton," he said in a low voice, 
 " Wilton, it seems you are already a great deal 
 better acquainted with my future wife than I 
 am myself; and glad to see you does she seem ! 
 and most gracious is her notice of you ! Why 
 there are half of those gilded fools on the other 
 side of the house ready to cut your throat at 
 this moment, when it is mine they would seek 
 to cut if they knew all; but pray come and in- 
 troduce me to my lovely bride, I had no idea 
 she was so pretty. I'm sure I am delighted to 
 have some other introduction than that of my 
 father, and so unexpected a one." 
 
 All this was said in a bantering tone, but 
 not without a shrewd examination of Wilton's 
 countenance while it was spoken. What were 
 the feelings of the young nobleman it was im- 
 possible for Wilton to divine; but he answered 
 quite calmly, the first emotion being by this time 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 THE king's htghway. 
 
 passed — " My acquaintance with her is so 
 sh'glit, tliat I certainly could not venture to 
 introduce any one, far less one who has so much 
 better an introduction ready prepared." 
 
 " By heavens, Wilton," replied his friend, 
 " by the look she gave you and the look you 
 returned, one would not have judged the ac- 
 quaintance to be slight ; but as you wdil not 
 introduce me, I will introduce you ; for I sup- 
 pose, in common civility, I must go and speak 
 to her father, as the old gentleman's eye is upon 
 me. There ! He secures his point by a bow. 
 Dearly beloved, I come, I come !" 
 
 Thus saying, he turned to proceed to the box, 
 making a sign to Wilton to follow, which he did, 
 tliouffh at the time he did it, he censured his 
 ov.n Aveakness for yielding to the temptation. 
 
 " I am but going," he thought, "to augment 
 feelings of regret at a destiny I cannot change 
 — I only go to increase my own pain, and in no 
 degree to avert from that sweet girl a fate but 
 too dark and sorrowful." 
 
 As he thus thought, lie felt disposed, even 
 then, to make some excuse for not going to
 
 THE king's highway. 227 
 
 the Duke's box; but by the time they were half 
 way thither, they were met by several persons 
 coming the other way, amongst whom was a 
 gentleman richly but not gaudily dressed, who 
 immediately addressed Lord Sherbrooke, saying, 
 that the Duke of Gaveston requested the honour 
 of his company in his box, and Wilton im- 
 mediately recognised his old companion of the 
 road, Sir John Fen wick. Sir John bowed to 
 him but distantly ; and Wilton was more than 
 ever hesitating whether he should go on or 
 not, when some one touched him on the arm, 
 and turning round he beheld his somewhat 
 doubtful acquaintance, who had given himself 
 the name of Green. 
 
 Sir John Fenv/ick and the stranger looked 
 in each other's faces without the slightest sign 
 of recognition ; but to Wilton himself Green 
 smiled pleasantly, saying, " I very much wish to 
 speak a word v/ith you, Mr. Wilton Brown. 
 Will you just step aside with me to the lobby 
 for a moment?" 
 
 The recollection of what had passed when 
 last they met, together with the wish of avoiding 
 Q 2
 
 228 THE king's highway. 
 
 an interview with the Duke and his daughter, 
 from which he augured nought but pain, over- 
 came Wilton's repugnance to hold any pri- 
 vate communication with one whom he had 
 certainly seen in a situation at the least very 
 equivocal; and merely saying to Lord Sher- 
 brooke, " I must speak with this gentleman 
 for a moment, and therefore cannot come with 
 you," he left the young lord to follow Sir 
 John Fenwick, and turned with the stranger 
 into the lobby. There was no one there at 
 the moment, for at that time the licensed 
 abomination, of which it has since been the 
 scene, would not have been tolerated in any 
 country calling itself Christian. Wilton was 
 indeed rather glad that it was vacant, for he 
 was not anxious to be observed by many people 
 in conversation with his present companion. 
 Not that any thing in his appearance or manner 
 was calculated to call up the blush of idle pride. 
 The stranger's dress was as rich and tasteful as 
 any in the house, his manner was easy and free, 
 his look, though not particularly striking, dis- 
 tinguished and gentlemanly.
 
 THE king's highway. 229 
 
 The stranger was the first to speak. " Do not 
 alarm yourself, Mr. Brown," lie said : " Mr. 
 Green is a safe companion here, whatever he 
 might be in Maidenhead Thicket. But I wanted 
 to speak a word to you yom-self, and to give 
 you a hint that may be beneficial to others. 
 As to yourself, I told you when last we met 
 that I could bring you into company with some 
 of your old friends. I thought your curiosity 
 would have carried you to the Green Dragon 
 long ago. As, however, you do not seem to 
 wish to see your old friends, I have now to tell 
 you that they wish to see you, and therefore I 
 have to beg you to meet me there to-morrov/ at 
 six of the clock." 
 
 " You are mistaken entirely," replied Wil- 
 ton, " in regard to my not wishing to see my 
 old friends. I very much wish it. I wish to 
 hear more of my early history, about which 
 there seems to me to be some mystery." 
 
 " Is there ? " said the stranger in a careless 
 
 tone. " Whether any thing will be explained to 
 
 you or not, I cannot say. At all events, you 
 
 must meet me there ; and, in the mean time, 
 
 Q 3
 
 230 
 
 tell me, have you seen Sir John Fenwick since 
 last we met ? " 
 
 " No, I have not," replied Wilton. " Why 
 do you ask?" 
 
 " Because," replied the other, " Sir John 
 Fenv/ick is a dangerous companion, and it were 
 better that you did not consort with him." 
 
 " That I certainly shall not do," replied 
 Wilton, " knowing his character sufficiently 
 already." 
 
 " Indeed ! " replied the other. " You have 
 grown learned in people's characters of late. 
 Master Brown : perhaps you know mine also ; 
 and if you do, of course you will give me the 
 meeting to-morrow at the Green Dragon." 
 
 He spoke with a smile ; and Wilton replied, 
 " I am by no means sure that I shall do so, 
 unless" I have a better cause assigned, and a 
 clearer knowledge of what I am going there 
 for." 
 
 " Prudent ! prudent ! " said the stranger. 
 " Quite right to be prudent, Master Wilton. 
 Nevertheless you must come, for the matter is 
 now one of some moment. Therefore, without
 
 THE king's highway. 281 
 
 asking you to answer at present, I shall expect 
 you. At six of the clock, remember, precisely." 
 " I by no means promise to come,'' replied 
 Wilton, " though I do not say that I will not. 
 But you said that you wished to tell me some- 
 thing which might be useful to others. Pray 
 what may that be ? " 
 
 '* Why," answered the stranger, " I wish 
 you to give a little warning to your acquaint- 
 ance, the Duke of Gaveston, regarding this very 
 Sir John Fen wick and his character." 
 
 " Nay," said Wilton, " nay — that I can 
 hardly do. My acquaintance with the Duke 
 himself is extremely small. The Duke is a 
 man of the world sufficiently old to judge for 
 himself, and with sufficient experience to know 
 the character of Sir John Fenwick without my 
 explaining it to him." 
 
 " The Duke," replied the other, " is a grown 
 baby, with right wishes and good intentions, as 
 well as kind feelings ; but a coral and bells 
 would lure him almost any where, and he has 
 got into the hands of one who will not fail to 
 lead him into mischief. I thought you knew 
 Q 4
 
 t23-2 
 
 him well ; but nevertheless, well or ill, you must 
 give him the warning." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," replied Wilton, draw- 
 ing himself up coldly ; '' but in one or two 
 points you have been mistaken. My knowledge 
 of the Duke is confined to one interview. I 
 shall most probably never exchange another 
 word with him in my life ; and even if I were 
 to do so, I should not think of assailing, to a 
 mere common acquaintance, the character of a 
 gentleman whom I may not like or trust my- 
 self, but who seems to be the intimate friend of 
 the very person in whose good opinion you wish 
 me to ruin him." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " replied the stranger — " you will 
 see the Duke again this very night, or I am 
 much mistaken. As to Sir John Fen wick, I 
 am a great deal more intimately his friend than 
 the Duke is, and I may wish to keep him from 
 rash acts, which he has neither courage nor 
 skill to carry through, and will not dare to un- 
 dertake, if he be not supported by others. I am, 
 in fact, doing Sir John himself a friendly act, for 
 I know his purposes, which are both rash and
 
 THE king's highway. 233 
 
 wrong ; and if I cannot stop them by fair 
 means, I must stop them by others." 
 
 " In that," replied Wilton, " yon must act as 
 you think fit. I know nothing of Sir John 
 Fenwick from my own personal observation ; 
 and therefore will not be made a tool of, to 
 injure his reputation with others." 
 
 " Well, well," replied his companion — " in 
 those circumstances you are right; and, as they 
 say in that beggarly assemblage of pettifogging- 
 rogues and traitors called the House of Com- 
 mons, I must shape my motion in another way. 
 The manner in which I will beg you to deal 
 with the Duke, is this. Find an opportunity, 
 before this night be over, of entreating him 
 earnestly not to go to-morrow to the meeting 
 at the Old King's Head, in Leadenhall Street. 
 This is' clear and specific, and at the same 
 time you assail the character of no one." 
 
 Wilton thought for a moment or two, and 
 then replied, " I cannot even promise you 
 absolutely to do this; but, if I can, I will. If 
 I see the Duke, and have the means of giving 
 him the message, I will tell him that I received
 
 234 THE king's highway. 
 
 it from a stranger, who seemed anxious for 
 his welfare." 
 
 " That will do," answered the other, " that 
 will do. But you must tell him without Sir 
 John Fenwick's hearing you. As to your seeing 
 him again, you will, I suppose, take care of that; 
 for surely the bow, and the smile, and the blush, 
 that came across the house to you, were too 
 marked an invitation to the box, for such a 
 gallant and a courteous youth not to take ad- 
 vantage of at once." 
 
 Wilton felt himself inclined to be a little 
 angry at the familiarity with which his com- 
 panion treated him, and which was certainly more 
 than their acquaintance warranted. Curiosity, 
 however, is powerful to repress all feelings, that 
 contend with it ; and if ever curiosity was 
 fully justifiable, it surely was that of Wilton 
 to know his own early history. Thus, although 
 he might have felt inclined to quarrel with 
 any other person who treated him so lightly, 
 on the present occasion he smothered his anger, 
 and merely replied that the stranger was mis- 
 taken in supposing that there was any such
 
 THE king's highway. 235 
 
 acquaintance between him and Lady Laura as 
 to justify him in visiting her box. 
 
 Even while he was in the act of speaking, 
 however, Lord Sherbrooke entered the lobby 
 in haste, and advanced immediately towards 
 him, saying, " Why, Wilton, I have been seeking 
 you all over the house. Where, in Fortune's 
 name, have you been ? The Duke and Lady 
 Laura have both been inquiring after you 
 most tenderly, and wondering that you have 
 not been to see them in their box." 
 
 The stranger, whom we shall in future call 
 Green, turned away with a smile, saying merely, 
 "Good evening, Mr. Brown; I wo'n't detain 
 you longer." 
 
 " Why who the devil have you got there, 
 Wilton ?" exclaimed Lord Sherbrooke : " I think 
 I have seen his face before." 
 
 " His name is Green," replied Wilton, not 
 choosing to enter into particulars; "but I am 
 ready now to go with you at once, and make 
 my apologies for not accompanying you before." 
 
 " Come then, come," replied Lord Sherbrooke; 
 and, leading the way towards the Duke's box, he
 
 236 THE king's highway. 
 
 added, laughingly, " If there had been any 
 doubt before, my good Wilton, as to my future 
 fate, this night has been enough to settle it." 
 
 "In what way?" said Wilton; but ere the 
 young nobleman could answer, otherwise than 
 by a smile, they had reached the box, and the 
 door was thrown open. 
 
 Wilton's heart beat, it must be confessed ; 
 but he had sufficient command over himself to 
 guard against the slightest emotion being per- 
 ceptible upon his countenance ; and he bowed 
 to the Duke and to Lady Laura, with that 
 ceremonious politeness which he judged that 
 his situation required. Lady Laura at once, 
 however, held out her hand to him, and ex- 
 pressed briefly, how glad she was of another 
 opportunity to thank him for the great service 
 which he had rendered her some time before. 
 The Duke also spoke of it kindly and politely ; 
 and the other persons in the box, who were 
 several in number, began to inquire into the 
 circumstances thus publicly mentioned, so that 
 the conversation took a more general turn, till 
 the curtain a«;ain arose.
 
 THE king's highway. 237 
 
 A certain degree of restraint, which had at 
 first affected both Wilton and the lady, soon 
 wore off, and the evening went by most plea- 
 santly. It was not strange — it was not surely at 
 all strange — that a young heart should forget 
 itself in such circumstances. Wilton gave him- 
 self up, not indeed to visions of joy, but to actual 
 enjoyment. Perhaps Lady Laura did the same. 
 At all events, she looked far happier than she 
 had done before ; and when at length the curtain 
 fell, and the time for parting came, they both 
 woke as from a dream, and the waking was cer- 
 tainly followed by a sigh on either part. It was 
 then that Wilton first recollected the warning 
 that he had promised to give, and he was con- 
 sidering how he should find the means of speak- 
 ing with the Duke alone, when that nobleman 
 paused for a moment, as the rest of the party 
 went out of the box, and drawing Wilton aside, 
 said in a hasty but kindly manner, " Lord Sher- 
 brooke informs me that you are his most intimate 
 friend, Mr. Brown ; and as it is very likely that 
 we shall see him frequently, I hope you will
 
 238 THE king's highway. 
 
 sometimes do us the favour of accompanying 
 him." 
 
 Wilton rephed by one of those unmeaning 
 speeches which commit a man to nothing ; for 
 though his own heart told him that he would 
 really be but too happy, as he said, to take ad- 
 vantage of the invitation, yet it told him, at the 
 same time, that to do so would be dangerous to 
 his peace. The Duke was then about to follow 
 his party ; but Wilton now in turn detained him, 
 saying, " I have a message to deliver to you, 
 my Lord Duke, from a stranger who stopped 
 me as I was coming to your box." 
 
 " Ha ! " said the Duke with a somewhat im- 
 portant air, ^' this is strange ; but still I have 
 so many communications of different kinds — 
 what may it be, Mr. Brown ?" 
 
 " It was, my Lord," replied Wilton in a low 
 voice, " a warning which I think it best to 
 deliver, as, not knowing the gentleman's name 
 who gave it to me, I cannot tell whether it may 
 be a mere piece of impertinence from somebody 
 who is perhaps a stranger to your Grace, or an 
 intimation from a sincere friend "
 
 THE king's highway. 239 
 
 " But the warning, the warning ! " said the 
 Duke, "pray, what was this warning?" 
 
 " It was," replied Wilton, " a warning not to 
 go to a meeting which you proposed to attend 
 in the course of to-morrow." 
 
 " Ha ! " said the Duke with a look of some 
 surprise — *' did he say what meeting ? " 
 
 " Yes, my Lord," replied Wilton — " he said 
 it was a meetino- at the old Kino^'s Head in 
 Leadenhall Street, and he added that it would 
 be dangerous for you to do so." 
 
 " I will never shrink from personal danger, 
 Mr. Brown," said the Duke, holding up his 
 head and putting on a courageous look. But 
 the moment after, something seemed to strike 
 him, and he added with a certain degree of 
 hesitation, " But let me ask you, Mr. Brown, 
 does my Lord of Byerdale know this ? — You 
 have not told Lord Sherbrooke ? " 
 
 " Neither the one nor the other, my Lord," 
 replied Wilton — " I have mentioned the fact to 
 nobody but yourself" 
 
 " Pray, then, do not," replied the Duke ; 
 " you will oblige me very much, Mr. Brown,
 
 40 THE king's highway. 
 
 by keeping this business secret. I must cer- 
 tainly attend the meeting at four to-morrow, 
 because I have pledged my word to it ; but I 
 shall enter Into nothing that is dangerous or 
 criminal, depend upon it ■ " 
 
 The nobleman was going on; and it is impos- 
 sible to say how much he might have told in 
 regard to the meeting in question, if Wilton 
 had not stopped him. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my Lord," he said ; 
 " but allow me to remind you that I have no 
 knowledge whatsoever of the views and inten- 
 tions with which this meeting is to be held. I 
 shall certainly not mention the message I have 
 brought your Grace to any one, and having 
 delivered it, must leave the rest to yourself, 
 whose judgment In such matters must be far 
 superior to mine." 
 
 The Duke looked gratified, but moved on 
 without reply, as the rest of his party were 
 waiting at a little distance. Wilton followed; 
 and seeing the Duke and Lady Laura with 
 Sir John and Lady Mary Fenwick into their 
 carriages, he proceeded homeward with Lord
 
 THE king's highway. 241 
 
 Sherbrooke, neither of them interchanging a 
 word till they had well nigh reached Wilton's 
 lodgings. There, however. Lord Sherbrooke 
 burst into a loud laugh, exclaiming — 
 
 " Lack-a-day, Wilton, lack-a-day ! Here are 
 you and I as silent and as meditative as two 
 owls in a belfrey : you looking as wise as if you 
 were a minister of state, and I as sorrowful as 
 an unhappy lover, when, to say the truth, I am 
 thinking of some deep stroke of policy, and 
 you are meditating upon a fair maid's bright 
 eyes. Get you gone, Wilton ; get you gone, 
 for a sentimental, lack-a-daisical shepherd ! 
 Now could we but get poor old King James to 
 come back, the way to a dukedom would be 
 open before you in a fortnight." 
 
 " How so ? " demanded Wilton, " how so ? 
 You do not suppose, Sherbrooke, that I would 
 ever join in overturning the religion, and the 
 laws, and the liberties of my country — how 
 so, then ? " 
 
 " As thus," replied Lord Sherbrooke — "I 
 will answer you as if I had been born the 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 *242 THE KINa's HIGHWAY. 
 
 e;rave-diaojer in Hamlet. Kino- James comes 
 over — well, marry go to, now — a certain duke 
 that you wot of, who is a rank Jacobite by the 
 by, instantly joins the invader ; then comes King 
 William, drives me his fellow-king and father- 
 in-law out of the kingdom in five days, takes 
 ]ne the Duke prisoner, and chops me his head 
 off in no time. This headless father leaves 
 a sorrowful daughter, who at the time of 
 liis death is deeply and desperately In love, 
 without daring to say it, her father's head being 
 the only obstacle in the way of the daughter's 
 heart. Then comes the lover to console the 
 lady, and finding her without protection, offers 
 to undertake that very needful duty. Now see 
 you, Wilton? Now see you? — But there's 
 the door of your dwelling. Get you in, man, 
 get you in, and try if in your dreams you can 
 get some means of bringing it about. By my 
 faith, Wilton, you are in a perilous situation ; 
 but there's one thing for your comfort, if I can 
 oet out of all the scrapes that at this moment 
 surround me on every side, like the lines of a 
 brsieging enemv, you can surely make your
 
 THE KING S HIGHWAY. 243 
 
 escape out of your difficulties, when you have 
 love, and youth, and hope, to befriend you." 
 
 " Hope?" said Wilton in bitter sadness; but 
 at the moment he spoke the door of the house 
 was opened, and, bidding Lord Shcrbrooke 
 *' Good night," he went in.
 
 244 THE king's highway. 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 During the greater part of the next day 
 Wilton did not set eyes upon Lord Sherbrooke. 
 The Earl of Byerdale, however, was peculiarly 
 courteous and polite to his young secretary. 
 There was much business, indeed, to be done, 
 and the Earl was obliged to be very rapid in all 
 his movements; but the terms in which he 
 gave his directions were gentle and placable, 
 and some letters received in the course of the 
 day from Ireland seemed to please him well. 
 He hinted even in a mysterious tone to Wilton 
 that he had something of importance to say 
 to him, but that he had not time to say it at 
 the moment, and he ended by asking his se- 
 cretary to dine at his house on the follow- 
 ing day, when he said the Duke of Gaveston 
 and Lady Laura were to be present with a large 
 party.
 
 THE king's highway. 245 
 
 He went out about three o'clock ; and Wil- 
 ton had not long returned to his lodgings 
 when Lord Sherbrooke joined him, and in- 
 sisted on his accompanying him on horseback 
 for a ride into the country. 
 
 Wilton was at that moment hesitating as to 
 whether he should or should not go to the ren- 
 dezvous given him by his strange acquaintance. 
 Green. He had certainly left the theatre on 
 the preceding night determined so to do ; for 
 the various feelings which at this time agitated 
 his heart had changed the anxiety which he 
 had always felt to know the circumstances of 
 his birth and family into a burning thirst, which 
 would have led him almost any where for satis- 
 faction. 
 
 A night's thought, however — for we cannot 
 say that he slept — had again revived all the 
 doubts which had before prevented him from 
 seeking the stranger, and had once more dis- 
 played before his eyes all the many reasons which 
 in those days existed for holding no commu- 
 nication with persons whose characters were 
 not known, or were in the least degree sus- 
 R 3
 
 246 THE king's highway. 
 
 picioiis. Thus before Lord Sherbrooke joined 
 him, he had fully convinced himself that the 
 thing which he had so great an inclination to 
 do was foolish, imprudent, and wrong. He 
 had seen the man in a situation which left 
 scarcely a doubt of his pursuits ; he had seen 
 him in close communication with a gentleman 
 principally known as a virulent and unscrupu- 
 lous enemy of the reigning dynasty j and he 
 had not one cause for thinking well of him, 
 except a certain oflP-hand frankness of manner 
 which might easily be assumed. 
 
 All this he had repeated to himself twenty 
 times, but yet he felt a strong inclination to 
 go, when Lord Sherbrooke's sudden appearance, 
 and invitation to ride out with him, cast an 
 additional weight into the opposite scale, and 
 determined his conduct at once. It is won- 
 derful, indeed, hov/ often those important acts, 
 in regard to which we have hesitated and 
 weighed every point with anxious deliberation, 
 are ultimately determined by the most minute 
 and trifling circumstance, totally unconnected 
 with the thing itself. The truth is, vuider
 
 THE king's highway. 247 
 
 such circumstances we are like a man weioliinG; 
 fine gold dust, who does it to such a nicety 
 that a hair falling into the scale turns it one way 
 or the other. 
 
 In the present instance, our friend Wilton 
 was not unwilling that something should come 
 in aid of his better judgment; and ordering 
 his horse to be brought up directly, he was soon 
 beyond the precincts of London, and riding- 
 through the beautiful fields which at that time 
 extended over ground where courtiers and 
 ministers have now established their town 
 dwellings. 
 
 From the whole demeanour of his companion, 
 from the wild and excited spirits which he 
 displayed, from the bursts of merriment to which 
 he gave way, apparently without a sufficient 
 cause, Wilton evidently saw, that there was either 
 some wild scheme working in Lord Sherbrooke's 
 brain, or the knowledge of some happy event 
 gladdening his heart. What it was, however, 
 he could not divine, and the young nobleman 
 was evidently determined on no account to 
 R 4
 
 248 THE king's highway. 
 
 explain. He laughed and jested with Wilton 
 in regard to the gravity which he could not con- 
 quer, declared that he was the dullest companion 
 that ever had been seen, and vowed that there 
 could be no more stupid and tiresome com- 
 panion for a long ride than a man in love, un- 
 less, indeed, it were a lame horse. 
 
 " Indeed, my dear Sherbrooke," replied 
 Wilton, " you should prove, in the first place, 
 that I am in love, which I can assure you is 
 not the case, before you attempt to attribute 
 my being grave to that reason. My very 
 situation in life, and a thousand things con- 
 nected therewith, are surely enough to make 
 me sad at times." 
 
 " Why, what is there sad in your situation, 
 my dear Wilton ?" demanded Lord Sherbrooke 
 in the same tone of raillery : " here are 
 you a wealthy young man — -ay, wealthy, Wil- 
 ton. Have you not yourself told me that your 
 income exceeds your expenses ; while I, on 
 the other hand, have no income at all, and 
 expenses in abundance? Well, I say you 
 are here a wealthy young man, with the best
 
 THE king's highway. 249 
 
 prospects in the world, destined some day to 
 be prime minister for aught I know." 
 
 " And who, at this present moment," inter- 
 rupted Wilton, " has not a relation upon earth 
 that he knows of; who has never enjoyed a 
 father's care or a mother's tenderness ; who 
 can only guess that his birth was disgraceful to 
 her whom man's heart is naturally bound to 
 reverence, without knowing who or what was 
 his father, or who even was the mother by 
 whose shame he was brought into being." 
 
 Lord Sherbrooke was immediately grave, for 
 he saw that Wilton was hurt ; and he 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 thinors tend to make me believe that
 
 250 THE king's highway 
 
 such is not the case. At all events, one 
 thing is clear — I have no family, no kin- 
 dred ; or if I have relations, they are ashamed 
 of the tie that binds me to them, and volun- 
 tarily disown it." 
 
 " Pshaw ! Wilton," exclaimed Lord Sher- 
 brooke — " 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 ge- 
 neration 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 king's highway. 251 
 
 the gates of a bouse 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?" ex- 
 claimed 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
 
 252 THE king's highway. 
 
 whose society he certainly liked better than 
 that of any one else on earth. 
 
 Lord Sherbrooke looked in his face with a 
 glance of malicious pleasure; and then, as nothing 
 on earth ever stopped him in any thing that he 
 chose to do or say, he burst forth into a gay 
 peal of laughter at the surprise which he saw 
 depicted on the countenance of his friend. 
 
 " Take the horses," he continued, turning to 
 his own servants — "take the horses round to the 
 Green Dragon, in the lane behind the house, 
 wet their noses, and give them a book to read 
 till we come to them. Come Wilton, come! 
 It is quite fitting," he said in a lower tone, 
 " that in execution of my plan I should establish 
 a character for insanity in the house. Now 
 that fat porter with the mulberry nose will 
 go and report to the kitchen-maid that I order 
 my horses a book to read, and they will decide 
 that I am mad in a minute. The news will 
 fly from kitchen-maid to cook, and from cook 
 to housekeeper, and from housekeeper to lady's 
 maid, and from lady's maid to lady. There 
 will be nothing else talked of in the house but
 
 THE king's highway. 253 
 
 my madness; and when they come to add 
 madness to badness they will surely give me 
 up, if they hav'n't a mind to add sadness to 
 madness likewise." 
 
 While he spoke, they were following a sort 
 of groom of the chambers, who, after looking 
 into one of the rooms on the ground-floor, 
 turned to Lord Sherbrooke saying, in a sweet 
 tone, — 
 
 " Lady Laura is walking in the gardens I 
 see, my Lord. I will show your Lordship 
 the way." 
 
 " So you have the honour of knowing who 
 my lordship is, Mr. Montgomery Styles," said 
 Lord Sherbrooke, looking him full in the 
 face. 
 
 " I beg your Lordship's pardon," said the 
 man, in the same mincing manner — " my name 
 is not Montgomery Styles — my name is Josiah 
 Perkins." 
 
 " Well, Jos. Perkins," said the young noble- 
 man, " IprcB, sequor, which means, get on as fast 
 as you can, Mr. Perkins, and I'll come after ;
 
 254 THE king's highway. 
 
 though 3^011 may tell me as you go, how it was 
 you discovered my lordliness." 
 
 " Oh ! by your look, my Lord: I should have 
 discovered it at once," replied the groom of the 
 chambers ; " but his Grace told me that your 
 Lordship was likely to call." 
 
 " Oh, ho !" cried Lord Sherbrooke, with a 
 laughing look to Wilton. But the next mo- 
 ment the servant threw open a glass door, and 
 they issued forth into the gardens, which were 
 very beautiful, and extended down to the river, 
 filled with fine old trees, and spread out in soft 
 green terraces and gravel walks. Lord Sher- 
 brooke gazed round at first, with a look of criti- 
 cising inquiry, upon the gardens ; but the eyes of 
 Wilton had fixed immediately upon the figure 
 of a lady who was walking slowly along on the 
 terrace, some way beneath them, at the very 
 edge of the river. She did not remark the 
 opening of the glass door in the centre of the 
 house, which was at the distance. of about two 
 hundred yards from the spot where she was at 
 the time ; but continued her walk with her 
 eyes bent upon the ground, and one hand play-
 
 THE king's highway. 255 
 
 ing negligently with the bracelet which encircled 
 the wrist of the other arm. Her thoughts were 
 evidently deeply busied with matters of import- 
 ance, at least to herself. 
 
 She was walking slowly, as we have said — a 
 thing that none but a high-bred woman can do 
 with grace — and though the great beauty of 
 her figure was, in some degree, hidden by the 
 costume of the day, yet nothing could render 
 its easy, gliding motion aught but exquisitely 
 graceful, and (if I may use a far-fetched term, 
 but, perhaps, the only one that will express 
 my meaning clearly,) musical to the eye. It 
 must not be understood that, though she was 
 w^alking slowly, the grace with which she did so 
 had any thing of the cold and stately air which 
 those who assume it call dignity. Oh no ! it 
 was all easy : quiet, but full of youth, and 
 health, and life : it was the mere movement of 
 a form, perfect in the symmetry of every limb, 
 under the will of a spirit harmonising entirely 
 with the fair frame that contained it. She 
 walked slowly because she was full of deep 
 thought; but no one who beheld her could
 
 "256 THE king's highway. 
 
 doubt that bounding joy might in its turn call 
 forth as much grace in that young form as the 
 calmer mood now displayed. 
 
 Wilton turned his eyes from the lady to his 
 young companion, and he saw that he was now 
 gazing at her too, and that not a little admir- 
 ation was painted in his countenance. Wilton 
 was painfully situated, and felt all the awkward- 
 ness of the position in which Lord Sherbrooke 
 had placed him fully. Yet how could he act ? he 
 asked himself — what means of escape did there 
 exist? What was the motive, too, what the 
 intentions, of Lord Sherbrooke ? for what pur- 
 poses had he brought him there ? in what 
 situation might he place him next? 
 
 All these, and many another question, he 
 asked his own heart as they advanced across the 
 green slopes and little terraces towards that in 
 which the young lady " walked in beauty." 
 There was no means for him to escape, however ; 
 and though he never knew from one moment to 
 another what would be the conduct of Lord 
 Sherbrooke, he was obliged to go on, and take 
 his chance of what that conduct might be.
 
 THE king's highway. 257 
 
 When they were about fifty yards from Lady 
 Laura, she turned at the end of the walk, and 
 then, for the first time, saw them as they ap- 
 proached; but if the expression of her coun- 
 tenance might be believed, she saw them with 
 no great pleasure. An expression of anxiety, 
 nay, of pain, came into her beautiful eyes; 
 and as they were turned both upon Lord Sher- 
 brooke and Wilton, the latter came in for his 
 share also of that vexed look. 
 
 " You see, Wilton," said Lord Sherbrooke, 
 in a low voice, '' how angry she is to behold you 
 here. It was for that I brought you. I want 
 to tease her in all possible ways," and without 
 waiting for any reply, he hurried his pace and 
 advanced towards the lady. 
 
 She received him with marked coldness and 
 distance of manner ; but now the difference in 
 her demeanour towards him and towards Wil- 
 ton was strongly marked — not that the smile 
 with which she greeted the latter when he came 
 lip was any thing but very faint, yet her lip 
 did relax into a smile. The colour, too, came up 
 a little into her cheek; and her manner was a 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 THE king's highway. 
 
 little agitated. In short — though without 
 openly expressing any very great pleasure at 
 seeing him — it was evident that she was not 
 displeased ; and the secret of the slight degree 
 of embarrassment which she displayed was, that 
 for the first moment or so after she saw him, 
 she thought of her mistake of the night before, 
 and of her feelings while she had imagined that 
 the Duke had pointed him out to her as one who, 
 if she thought fit, might be her future husband. 
 
 The lady soon conquered the momentary agi- 
 tation, however; and the conversation went on, 
 principally maintained, of course, between herself 
 and Lord Sherbrooke. Wilton would have given 
 worlds indeed to have escaped, but there was 
 no possibility of so doing. Lady Lauia signified 
 no intention of returning to the house; and they 
 continued walking up and down the broad gra- 
 velled terrace, which of all things on earth 
 affords the least opportunity for lingering be- 
 hind, or escaping the embarrassment of being 
 the one too many, 
 
 Wilton had too much good taste to suffer his 
 annoyance to appear; and though he strove
 
 THE KINGS HIGHWAY. 259 
 
 to avoid taking any greater part in the conver- 
 sation than he could help, still when he joined 
 in, what he did say was said with ease and grace. 
 Lord Sherbrooke forced him, indeed, to speak 
 more than he was inclined, and, to Lady Laura, 
 there seemed a strange contrast between the 
 thoughts and language of the two. The young 
 nobleman's conversation was light, witty, poig- 
 nant, and irregular. It was like the flowing of a 
 shallow stream amongst bright pebbles which it 
 causes to sparkle, and from which it receives in 
 return a thousand various shades and tints, but 
 without depth or vigour; while that of Wilton 
 was stronger, more profound, more vigorous 
 both in thought and expression, and was like a 
 deeper river flowing on without so much sun- 
 shine and light, but clear, deep, and powerful, 
 and not unmusical either, between its banks. 
 
 It was towards the latter that Lady Laura 
 turned and listened, though she could not but 
 smile at many of the gay sallies of him who 
 walked on the other side ; but it seemed as if 
 the conversation of Lord Sherbrooke rested in 
 s 2
 
 260 THE king's highway. 
 
 the ear, while that of Wilton sunk into the 
 heart. 
 
 It would not be very interesting, even if we 
 had time, to detail all that took place upon tliat 
 occasion ; but it must be confessed that, though 
 once or twice Lord Sherbrooke felt inclined to 
 put forth all his powers of pleasing, out of pique 
 at the marked preference which Lady Laura 
 showed for Wilton, he in no degree concealed 
 the worst points of his character. He said 
 nothing, indeed, which could offend in mere 
 expression ; but every now and then he suffered 
 some few wo^-ds to escape him, which clearly 
 announced that the ties of morality and religion 
 were in no degree recognised by him amongst 
 the principles by which he intended to guide 
 his actions. He even forced the conversation 
 into channels which afforded an opportunity of 
 expressing opinions of worse than a dangerous 
 character. Constancy, he said, was all very 
 well for a turtledove, or an old man of seventy 
 with a young wife ; and as for religion, there 
 were certain people paid for having it, and 
 he should not trouble himself to have any unless
 
 26] 
 
 he were paid likewise. This was not, indeed, 
 all said at once, nor in such distinct terms as 
 we have here used, but still the meaning was 
 the same; and whether expressed in a jesting 
 or more serious manner, that meaning could not 
 be misunderstood. 
 
 Wilton looked grave and sad when he heard 
 such things said to a pure and high-minded 
 girl; and Lady Laura herself turned a little 
 pale, and cast her eyes down upon the ground 
 without reply. 
 
 At length, after this had gone on for some 
 time, Lord Sherbrooke inquired for Lady 
 Mary Fenwick, saying that he had hoped to 
 see her there, and to inquire after her health. 
 
 " Oh, she is here still," replied Lady Laura ; 
 " but she complained of headache this morning, 
 and is sitting in the little library. I do not 
 know whether she would be inclined to see any 
 one or not." 
 
 " Oh, she will see me, beyond all doubt," 
 exclaimed Lord Sherbrooke — " no lady ever 
 refuses to see me. Besides, her great grand- 
 mother, on old Lady Carlisle's side, was my 
 s 3
 
 262 THE king's highway. 
 
 great grandfather's forty-fifth cousin, so that 
 we are relations. I will go and find her out. 
 Stay you, Wilton, and console Lady Laura, 
 till I come back again. I shall not be five 
 minutes." 
 
 Thus saying, away he darted, leaving Lady 
 Laura and Wilton alone in the middle of the 
 walk. The lady seemed to hesitate for a 
 moment what she should doj whether she should 
 follow to the house or not, and she paused for 
 an instant in the walk; but inclination, if the 
 truth must be said, got the better of what she 
 might consider strictly decorous, and after that 
 momentary pause, she walked on with Wilton 
 by her side. In saying that it was inclination 
 determined her conduct, I did not mean to say 
 that it was solely the inclination to walk and 
 converse with Wilton Brown, though that had 
 some share in the business, but there was 
 besides, an inclination to be freed from the 
 presence of Lord Sherbrooke, who had suc- 
 ceeded to a miracle in making her thoroughly 
 disgusted with him. 
 
 As they walked on, there was a certain de-
 
 THE king's highway. 263 
 
 gree of embarrassment hung over both Wilton 
 and Laura; both felt, perhaps, that the}' could 
 be very happy in each other's society, but both 
 felt afraid of being too happy. With Wilton, 
 there were a thousand causes to produce that 
 slight embarrassment, and with Lady Laura 
 several also. But one and a very principal 
 cause was, that there was something which she 
 longed exceedingly to say, and yet doubted 
 whether she ought to say it. 
 
 It does not unfrequently happen that a person 
 of the highest rank and station, possessing every 
 quality to secure friendship, with wealth and 
 every gift of fortune at command, surrounded by 
 numerous acquaintances, and mingling with a 
 wide society, is nevertheless totally alone — alone 
 in spirit and in heart — alone in thought and 
 mind. Such was the case with Lady Laura. It 
 is true she had yet but very little experience of 
 the world, and her search for a congenial spirit 
 had not been carried far or prosecuted long ; 
 but she was one of those who had learned to 
 think and to feel early. Her mother, who had 
 
 died three years before, had taught her to do 
 
 s 4
 
 264 THE king's highway. 
 
 so, not alone for her own sake, but also for that 
 of her father ; for the Duchess had early felt 
 the conviction that her own life would be brief, 
 and knew that the mind and character of her 
 daughter must have a great effect upon the 
 Duke, whom she loved much, though she could 
 not venerate very highly. 
 
 With a heart, then, full of deep and pure feel- 
 ings, with a mind not only originally bright and 
 strong, not only highly cultivated and stored 
 with fine tastes, but highly directed and for- 
 tified with strong principles, with an enthu- 
 siastic love of every thing that was beautiful 
 and graceful, generous, noble, and dignified — 
 it is not to be wondered at that, in the wide 
 society of the capital, or amongst all the acquaint- 
 ances who thronged her father's house. Lady 
 Laura had seen no spirit congenial to her own, 
 no heart with the same feelings, no mind with 
 the same objects. In every one she had met 
 with, there had still been some apparent weak- 
 ness, some worldliness, some selfishness, there 
 had been coldness, or apathy, or want of prin- 
 ciple, or want of feeling; and the bright enthu-
 
 THE king's highway. 265 
 
 siams of her young nature had been confined 
 to the tabernacle of her own heart. 
 
 She had seen Wilton Brown but seldom, it 
 is true, but nevertheless she felt differently 
 towards hi in and other people. There were 
 several causes which had produced this; and 
 perhaps, as Lady Laura was not absolutely an 
 angel, his personal appearance might have some- 
 thing to do with it, though less than miglit be 
 supposed. His fine person, his noble carriage, 
 his bright and intelhgent countenance, the rapid 
 variety of its expressions, the dignified character 
 of the predominant one to which it always 
 returned, after those more transient had passed 
 away — all gave the idea of there being a high 
 heart and mind beneath. In the next place, 
 Wilton had, as we have told, commenced his 
 acquaintance with her by an act of personal 
 service, performed with gallantry, skill, and 
 decision, at the risk of his own life. In the 
 third place, in all his conversation, as far as she 
 had ever known or remarked, there were those 
 small casual traits of good feelings, fine tastes, 
 and strong principles, expressed sometimes by
 
 266 THE king's highway. 
 
 a single word, sometimes by a look or gesture, 
 which are a thousand-fold more convincing, in 
 regard to the real character of the person, than 
 the most laboured harangue, or essay, or de- 
 claration. 
 
 Thus it was that Laura hoped, and fancied, 
 and believed, she had now seen one person 
 upon earth whose feelings, thoughts, and 
 character might assimilate with her own. 
 Pray let the reader understand that I do not 
 mean to say Laura was in love with Wilton; 
 but she did believe that he was one of those for 
 whose eyes she might draw away a part of that 
 customary veil with which all people hide the 
 shrine of their deeper feelings from the sight of 
 the coarse multitude. 
 
 There was something then, as we have seen, 
 that she wished to say ■ — there was something 
 that she believed she might say without risk or 
 wrong. But yet she hesitated; and she and 
 Wilton went on nearly to the end of the walk 
 in perfect silence. At length she cast a timid 
 glance first towards the house where Lord 
 Sherbrooke was seen just entering one of the
 
 THE king's highway 267 
 
 rooms from the upper terrace, and then to the 
 face of Wilton Brown, whose eye chanced at that 
 moment to be upon her with a look of inquiry. 
 The look gave her courage, and she said, — 
 
 " I am going to say a very odd thing, Mr. 
 Brown, I believe ; but your great intimacy with 
 Lord Sherbrooke puzzles me. He told my 
 father last night that you were his dearest and 
 most intimate friend. I always thought that 
 friendship must proceed from a similarity of 
 feelings and pursuits, and I am sure, from 
 what I have heard you say, at least I think I 
 may be sure, that you entertain ideas the 
 most opposite to those with which he has just 
 pained us." 
 
 Wilton smiled somewhat sadly ; but he did 
 not dare deny that such opinions were Lord 
 Sherbrooke's real ones ; for his well-known con- 
 duct was too much in accordance with them. 
 
 " Would to Heaven, dear lady," he said, 
 " that Sherbrooke would permit me to be as 
 much his friend as I might be ! I must not 
 deny that he has many faults — faults I am sure
 
 268 THE KING*S HIGHWAY. 
 
 of education and habit alone, for bis heart 
 is noble, honourable, and high " 
 
 *^ Nay," cried Lady Laura — " could a noble 
 or an honourable heart entertain such senti- 
 ments as he has just expressed?" 
 
 " You do not know him, nor understand him, 
 yet, Lady Laura," replied Wilton. " Most 
 men strive to make themselves appear better 
 than they really are: Sherbrooke labours to 
 make himself appear worse — not alone, Lady 
 Laura, in his language — not alone in his account 
 of himself ; but even by his very actions. I am 
 confident that he has committed more than one 
 folly for the sole purpose, if his motives were 
 thoroughly sifted and investigated, of establish- 
 ing a bad reputation." 
 
 " What a sad vanity ! " exclaimed Lady 
 Laura. " On such a man no reliance can be 
 placed. Bnt his plain declaration, a few minutes 
 ago, is quite sufficient to mark his character, 
 I mean his declaration that he considers no 
 vows taken to a woman, at all binding on a 
 man. Is that the principle of an honourable 
 heart. Mr. Brown?"
 
 THE king's highway. 269 
 
 Wilton was silent for a moment, but Lady 
 Laura evidently looked for a reply ; and he 
 answered at length, ** No it is not, Lady Laura ; 
 but I fully believe, ere taking any such vows, 
 Sherbrooke would openly acknowledge his view 
 of them, and having done so, would look upon 
 them as mere empty air." 
 
 Lady Laura laughed, evidently applying her 
 companion's words to her own situation with 
 Lord Sherbrooke; and Wilton, unwilling that 
 one word from his lips should have a tendency 
 to thwart the purposes of the Earl of Byerdale 
 in a matter where he had no right to interfere, 
 hastened to add, '' Let me assure you, Lady 
 Laura, however, at the same time that I make 
 this acknowledgment with regard to Sherbrooke, 
 that I am fully convinced, if he were to pledge 
 his word of honour to keep those vows, he 
 would die rather than violate that pledge." 
 
 " Tliat is to say," replied Lady Laura, some- 
 what bitterly, " that he has erected an idol 
 whose oracles he can interpret as he will, and 
 calls it honour^ denying that there is any other
 
 270 THE king's highway. 
 
 God. But let us speak of it no more, Mr. 
 Brown. These things make one sad." 
 
 Wilton was glad to speak of something else ; 
 for he felt himself bound by every tie to say 
 all that he could in favour of Lord Sherbrooke ; 
 and yet he could not find in his heart to aid, in 
 the slightest degree, in forwarding a scheme 
 which could end in nothing but misery to 
 the sweet and innocent girl beside him. He 
 changed the topic at once, then, and exerted 
 himself to draw her mind away from the matter 
 on which they had just been speaking. 
 
 Nevertheless, that subject, while they went on, 
 remained in the mind of each ; and Lady Laura 
 might have discovered — if she had been at all 
 apprehensive of her own feelings — that it is a 
 dangerous thing to do as she had done, and raise, 
 for any eye, even a corner of that veil which 
 hides the heart, unless we are inclined to raise 
 it altogether. Her subsequent conversation 
 with Wilton took its tone throughout, entirely 
 from what had gone before. Without knowing 
 it, or rather we should say, without perceiving 
 it, they suffered it to be mingled with deep
 
 THE king's highway. 271 
 
 feelings : shadowed forth, perhaps, more than 
 actually expressed. A softness, too, came over 
 it — we must not, though, perhaps, we mighty 
 call it a tenderness : the ceremonious terms were 
 soon dropped; and because the speakers would 
 have been obliged to use those ceremonious 
 terms, if they had spoken each other's names, 
 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 ?
 
 272 THE king's highway. 
 
 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 
 tlieni ; 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
 
 THE king's highway. 273 
 
 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 Wil- 
 ton. " 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 you are not the 
 most ungrateful and the most foolish of all men 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE KING*S HIGHWAY. 
 
 upon earth, you will take the goods the gods 
 provide you, and make the best use of lime 
 and opportunity." 
 
 " All I can say, Sherbrooke," replied Wilton, 
 *' is, that I shall never return to that house 
 again, except for a formal visit to the Duke.'* 
 
 " Fine resolutions speedily broken ! " ex-» 
 claimed Lord Sherbrooke : and he was right.
 
 THE king's highway. 275 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 Had Wilton Brown wanted an immediate illus- 
 tration of the fragile nature of man's purposes, 
 of how completely and thoroughly our firmest 
 resolutions are tlie sport of fate and accident, 
 it could have been furnished to him within five 
 minutes after he left the gates of the house 
 "where he had paid an unintended visit. 
 
 Lord Sherbrooke seemed perfectly well ac- 
 quainted with the house and its neighbourhood, 
 and led the way round through a green lane 
 at the back, which presently, in one of its most 
 sequestered spots, offered to the eyes a some- 
 what large old-fashioned public house, standing 
 back in a small paved court; while planted 
 before it, on the edge of the road, was a sign- 
 post, bearing on its top the effigy of a huge 
 ojreen drairon. 
 
 InTow, whether it be from some unperceived 
 T 2
 
 276 THE king's highway. 
 
 association in the minds of the English people 
 between the chimerical gentleman we have 
 lately mentioned and the patron Saint of this 
 island, who, it seems, if all tales were told, 
 was not a bit better than the dragon that he 
 slew; or for what other reason I know not, 
 yet there is no doubt of the fact, that in all 
 ages English vintners have had a particular 
 predilection for green dragons ; and that name 
 was so commonly attached to a public house, 
 in those days, that it had not at all struck 
 Wilton Brown that the Green Dragon to which 
 Lord Sherbrooke ordered the horses to be led, 
 was that very identical Green Dragon where 
 his acquaintance Mr. Green had given him the 
 rendezvous. 
 
 He might not, indeed, have heard Lord 
 Sherbf ooke's order at all ; but it is still more 
 probable, that he only did not attend to it, 
 as all his thoughts were taken up at the moment 
 by the discovery of what place Lord Sher- 
 brooke had brought him to. It now, how- 
 ever, struck him — when he saw the Green 
 Dragon standing in the Green Lane, precisely
 
 THE king's highway. 277 
 
 as it had been described by Green — that it 
 might very likely be the identical house to 
 which he had been directed; and on asking 
 Lord Sherbrooke what was the name of the 
 mansion they had just visited, the matter was 
 placed beyond doubt by his replying, " Beau- 
 fort House. The Duke only hires it for a 
 time." 
 
 Brown hesitated now for an instant, as to 
 how he should act. His watch told him that it 
 was close upon the hour to the appointment : 
 curiosity raised her voice : the natural longing 
 after kindred had also its influence ; and if the 
 society of Lord Sherbrooke was any impedi- 
 ment, that was instantly removed by the young 
 nobleman saying, " Come, Wilton, as you are 
 an unsociable devil, and seem out of temper, I 
 shall leave you to ride home by yourself. — The 
 truth is," he added, after a moment's pause, " I 
 am going upon an expedition, that the character 
 I have given myself to my fair Lady Laura 
 may be fully and completely established on the 
 day that it is given." 
 
 T 3
 
 278 THE king's highway, 
 
 "Nay, Sherbrooke, nay!" cried Wilton — 
 " I hope and trust such is not the case." 
 
 The other only laughed, and called loudly 
 for his servants and horses. 
 
 Well disciplined to his prompt and fiery 
 disposition, his grooms led the horses out in a 
 moment, and the young nobleman sprang into 
 the saddle. Before his right foot was in the 
 stirrup, he had touched the horse with the spur, 
 and away he went like lightning, waving his 
 hand to Wilton with a light langh. 
 
 Wilton's horses and groom had appeared also, 
 but he paused before the door without mounting ; 
 and the next moment, a fat, well-looking host, 
 as round, as well fed, and as rosy, as beef, beer, 
 and good spirits, ever made the old English 
 innkeeper, appeared at the door in his white 
 nightcap and apron, and approaching the young- 
 gentleman, invited him in with what seemed a 
 meaning look. 
 
 " Perhaps I may come in," replied Wilton, 
 " and taste your good ale, landlord." 
 
 '' Sir, the ale is both honoured and honour- 
 able," replied the host. " I can assure you
 
 279 
 
 many a high gentleman tastes it at the Green 
 Dragon." 
 
 Bidding his servant lead the horse up and 
 down before the door, Wilton slowly entered 
 the well-sanded passage, and passed through 
 the doorway of a room to which the landlord 
 pointed. The moment he entered he heard 
 voices speaking very loud, there being nothing 
 apparently between that and the adjoining 
 chamber but a very thin partition of wood-work. 
 The landlord hemmed and coughed aloud, and 
 Wilton made his footfalls sound as heavily as 
 possible, but all in vain : the person who was 
 speaking went on in the same tone; and before 
 the landlord could get out of the room again 
 and down the passage to the door of the next 
 chamber, which was some way farther on, Wil- 
 ton distinctl}^ heard the words, " Nonsense, 
 Sir George ! don't attempt to cajole me ! I 
 tell you, I will have nothing to do with it. 
 To bring in foreigners is bad enough, when 
 we are quite strong enough to do it without ; 
 but I will take no man's blood but in fair 
 
 fight." 
 
 T 4
 
 280 THE king's highway. 
 
 " Well ! " exclaimed the other in the same 
 loud and vehement manner — " you know, sir, 
 I could hang you if I liked ! " 
 
 At that moment the door was evidently 
 opened, and the landlord's voice exclaiming, 
 " Hush ! hush ! " was heard ; but he could not 
 stop the reply, which was, — 
 
 " I know that ! But I could hang you too ; 
 so that we are each pretty safe. This is that 
 villain Charnock's doing. Tell him I will blow 
 his brains out the first time I meet him for 
 spoiling, by his bloody-minded villany, one of 
 the most hopeful plans " 
 
 But the landlord's " Hush ! hush ! " was again 
 repeated, and the voices were thenceforth mo- 
 derated, though the discussion seemed still to 
 endure some time. 
 
 Wilton's curiosity was now more excited than 
 ever ; and when the landlord brought him a 
 foaming jug of ale, together with a long Venice 
 glass having a wavy pearl- coloured line running 
 up the stalk, he asked the simple question, " Is 
 Mr. Green here ? " 
 
 On this the landlord put down his head,
 
 281 
 
 saying, in a low voice, " The Colonel will be 
 with yoQ directly : he expects you, sir." 
 
 « The Colonel ! " thought Brown — " this is 
 a new dignity. However, with his state and 
 station I have little to do, if I could but dis- 
 cover my own." 
 
 At the end of about five minutes the convers- 
 ation in the other room ceased, and in a 
 moment or two more the door was opened, and 
 Green made his appearance. We have so accu- 
 rately described him before that we should not 
 pause upon his appearance now, had there not 
 been a great change in his dress, which had 
 such an effect as to render it scarcely possible 
 to recognise him. 
 
 Now, instead of a military-looking suit of 
 green, he had on a long-waisted broad cut 
 coat of black, with jet buttons; a light-coloured 
 periwig filled full of powder; black breeches 
 and silk stockings, and a light black-hilted 
 sword. In fact, he bore much more the appear- 
 ance of a French lawyer of that day than any 
 thing else. The features, indeed, were there ; 
 but it was wonderful what the highly-powdered
 
 282 THE king's highway. 
 
 "vvig had done to soften the strong-marked Ihies 
 of his face, and to blanch the weather-beaten 
 appearance of his complexion. The suit of 
 black, too, made him look thinner and even 
 taller than he really was ; and on his first 
 entrance into the room Wilton certainly did not 
 know him. 
 
 " You have come before your time," he said, 
 " though perhaps it is as well, for I must go 
 out as soon as it is dusk;" and as he spoke he 
 cast himself into a chair, fixed his eyes upon 
 some scanty embers which were smouldering in 
 the grate, and fell into a deep and apparently 
 painful fit of thought. His broad but heavy 
 brow was knitted with a wrinkled frown ; the 
 muscles of his face worked from time to time; 
 and Wilton could see the sinews of his large 
 powerful hand, as it lay upon his knee, stand- 
 ing out like cords, though he uttered not a 
 w^ord. 
 
 After pausing for a moment or two, his 
 companion thought it time to recall this strange 
 acquaintance to the subject of his coming, and 
 said, " You told me I might see some of my
 
 THE king's highway. ^83 
 
 old friends here, Mr. Green. Let me remind 
 you it grows late." 
 
 " Don't be impatient, my good boy," replied 
 the other abstractedly, at the same time rising 
 and drinking a deep draught of the ale — "you 
 shall see some of your old friends ! Don't you 
 see me?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Wilton, " you are an ac- 
 quaintance, certainly, of some months, but 
 nothing more that I know of." 
 
 " Well, well, do not be impatient, I say," 
 answered Green — " you shall see some one 
 else, if I don't satisfy you. But you are before 
 your time, as I said." 
 
 He had scarcely spoken, when the door of 
 the little room opened once more, and a woman 
 apparently of no very high class, and consider- 
 ably advanced in years, so as to be somewhat 
 decrepid, came in. She was dressed in a large 
 grey cloak of common serge, with a stick in her 
 hand, and mittens on her hands, wliile over her 
 head was a large black wimple or hood, which 
 covered a great part of her face. 
 
 The moment Green saw her, he crossed over
 
 284 
 
 and said in a low but not inaudible voice, 
 " Not a word, till all this business is over ! 
 They will ruin the cause and themselves, and 
 all that are engaged with them by committing 
 all sorts of crimes. It will plunge him into 
 the greatest dangers, if you say a word." 
 
 Much of what he said was heard by Brown ; 
 and in the mean time Green aided the woman 
 to disembarrass herself of her hood and cloak, 
 taking the staff out of her hand, and at the 
 same time turning the key of the door. The 
 moment that he did so his female companion 
 drew herself up ; the appearance of bowed de- 
 crepitude vanished ; and she stood before Brown 
 a tall graceful woman, apparently scarcely forty 
 years of age, with a countenance still beauti- 
 ful, and a demeanour which left no doubt of 
 the society with which at one time she must 
 have mingled. 
 
 Of Wilton himself the lady had as yet had 
 but one glance, as she first entered the room ; 
 for, ever since. Green had stood between them 
 so that she could not see. When she did behold 
 him fully, however, she gazed upon him ear-
 
 THE king's highway. 285 
 
 nestly, clasping her hands and exclaiming, " Is 
 it — is it possible?" 
 
 The next moment her feelings seemed to 
 overpower her — " Oh yes, yes," she cried, 
 advancing — "it is he himself — the same, 
 dear, blessed likeness of the dead;" and cast- 
 ing her arms round the young gentleman's 
 neck, she wept long and profusely on his 
 bosom. 
 
 Wilton was surprised and agitated, as may 
 well be conceived. He was not sufficiently 
 ignorant of the world not to know that there 
 are a thousand tricks and artifices daily prac- 
 tised, which assume such appearances as the 
 scene now performing before him displayed. He 
 might, indeed, have entertained suspicions of all 
 sorts of transformations and disguises ; but there 
 was an earnestness, a truth, in the lady's man- 
 ner that was in itself convincing, and there was 
 something more also — there was a most extra- 
 ordinary resemblance in her whole face and 
 person to the picture which we have before 
 mentioned in the house of the Earl of Sunbury. 
 The features were the same, the height, the
 
 286 THE king's highway. 
 
 figure : the eyes were the same colour, there 
 was the same peculiar expression about the 
 mouth, and the only difference seemed to be the 
 difference of age. The picture represented a 
 girl of eighteen or nineteen : the person who 
 stood beside him must have seen well nigh forty 
 summers. 
 
 Though the likeness was complete, there was 
 a certain difference. Have we not all beheld 
 a beautiful scene spread out in the morning 
 light, full of radiance, and sparkling, and glori- 
 ous sunshine? and have we not seen a grey 
 cloud creep over the sky leaving the landscape 
 the same, but taking from it the resplendent 
 beams in which it shone at first? So did it 
 seem with her. All appeared the same as in 
 the bright being whom the painter had de- 
 picted in her gay day of youth ; but that Time 
 had since brought, as it were, a grey shadow 
 over the loveliness which he could not take 
 away. 
 
 All these things took from Wilton every 
 doubt; and after he had suffered the lady for a 
 moment to give way to her feelings without a
 
 THE king's highway. 287 
 
 word : even throwing his arm slightly round her, 
 and pressing her towards him, he said, *' Are 
 you — are you my mother?" 
 
 " Alas ! no, my dear boy," she replied, raising 
 her head and wiping away the tears, while the 
 colour rose slightly in her cheek. *' I am 
 not your mother, but one who has loved you 
 scarcely less than ever mother loved her son ; 
 one who nursed and fondled you in infancy; 
 one who has now come from another land but 
 for the sake of seeing you, and of holding once 
 more to her heart the nursling of other years, 
 even more sad and terrible than these." 
 
 " From another land !" said "Wilton, thought- 
 fully, while through the dim and misty vista of 
 the past, strange figures seemed to move before 
 his eyes,' as if suddenly called up out of the 
 darkness of oblivion by some enchanter's voice. 
 " Another land !" he said, thoughtfully — " Your 
 face and your voice seem to wake strange me- 
 mories. I think, I remember having been with 
 you in another land, and I recollect — surely 
 I recollect, a pretty cottage with a rose-tree at 
 the door — a rose tree in full bloom; and tying
 
 288 THE king's highway. 
 
 the knot of an officer's scarf, and his holding 
 me long to his heart, and blessing me again and 
 
 " Before he went to battle ! " said the lady, 
 " before he went to death ! " Her voice became 
 choked in suffi3cating sobs, and she wept again 
 long and bitterly. 
 
 " Nay, but tell me more," said Wilton, " in 
 pity tell me more. Do I not surely recollect 
 his face too ?" and he pointed to Green, " and 
 the sparkling seashore? — and sailing long upon 
 the ocean ? Tell me more, oh, tell me more ! " 
 
 " I must not yet, Wilton," she replied, " I 
 must not yet. They tell me it is dangerous, 
 and I believe it is. Struggles must soon take 
 place, changes must inevitably ensue, and I 
 would not — no, not for all the world, I would 
 not that your young life should be plunged into 
 those terrible contentions, which have swallowed 
 up, as a dark whirlpool, the existence of so many 
 of your race. If our hopes be true, the way to 
 fortune and rank will be open to you at 
 once: or there is no such thing as gratitude 
 in the world. If not, you will have the means of
 
 289 
 
 living in quiet and tranquillity, and if you will, 
 of struggling for higher things ; for within six 
 months the whole shall be told to you. Ask 
 me not ! ask me not !" she added, seeing him 
 about to speak — ''I have promised in this 
 matter to be guided by others, and I must say 
 no more." 
 
 " But who is he?" continued Wilton, point- 
 ing to Green. 
 
 The lady looked first at liim, and then at 
 their companion, with a faint, even a melancholy, 
 smile. 
 
 *' He is one,'* she replied, " whom you must 
 trust, for he has ever guided others better and 
 more successfully than he has guided himself. 
 He is one who has every title to direct you." 
 ' " This is all very strange," said Wilton, '' and 
 it is painful too. You do not know — you cannot 
 tell, how painful it is to live, as it were, in a dark 
 cloud, knowing nothing either of the future or 
 the past." 
 
 The lady looked down sadly upon the ground. 
 
 '' There are, sometimes," she said, "certain- 
 ties which are far more terrible than doubts. 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 THE king's highway. 
 
 Be contented, Wilton, till you hear more : when 
 you do hear more, you will hear much painful 
 matter, you will have much to undergo, and 
 you will need courage, determination, and 
 strength of mind. In the mean while, as from 
 your earliest years, careful, anxious, zealous, 
 eyes have watched over you, marked your every 
 movement, traced your every step, even while 
 you thought yourself abandoned, forgotten, and 
 neglected : so shall it be till the whole is ex- 
 plained to you. Thenceforth you will rule your 
 own conduct, judge, determine, and act for 
 yourself. We know, we are sure, that you will 
 act nobly, uprightly, and well in the mean while, 
 and that you will do no deed which at a future 
 period may not befit any station and any race 
 to acknov/ledge." 
 
 Wilton mused deeply for several moments, 
 and then raising his eyes to the lady's face, he 
 demanded, in a low tone, " Answer me only 
 one question more. Am I the son of Lord 
 Sunbury?" 
 
 The blood rushed violently up into the lady's 
 countenance.
 
 THE king's highway. 291 
 
 " Lord Simbury was never married," she 
 exclaimed — " was he ?" 
 
 "I know not," replied Wilton — " all I ask 
 is, am I his son ? I ask it, because he has 
 shown me generous kindness, care, and con- 
 sideration ; and at times I have seen him gazing 
 in my face, when he thought I did not remark it, 
 as if there were some deeper feelings in his 
 bosom than mere friendship. Yet I cannot 
 say that he has ever taught me to look upon 
 mj^self as his son." 
 
 " Your imagination is only leading you into 
 a labyrinth, Wilton," said the personage calling 
 himself Green, " from which you will find it 
 difficult to extricate yourself. Be contented 
 with what you know, and ask no more." 
 
 " I much wish, and I do entreat," replied 
 Wilton, *' that j^ou would give me an answer to 
 the question I have asked. There might be 
 circumstances — indeed, I may say, that circum- 
 stances are very likely to occur, in which it 
 would be absolutely necessary for me to know 
 what claim I have upon the Earl of Sunbiiry. 
 I have never yet asked him for any thing of 
 u 2
 
 *2y2 THE KING S HIGHWAY. 
 
 importance ; but I foresee that the time may soon 
 come when I may have to demand of him what 
 I would not venture to demand, did I consider 
 myself but the claimless child of his bounty." 
 
 Tlie lady looked at Green and Green at her, 
 and they paused for several minutes. At length 
 she ansvvered, " I will give you a claim upon 
 Lord Sunbury," and she took from her finger 
 a large ring, such as were commonly worn in 
 those da3^s, presenting on one side a shield of 
 black enamel surrounded with brilliants, and in 
 the centre a cipher, formed also of small dia- 
 monds. " Keep this," said the lady, " till all is 
 explained to you, Wilton, and then return it to 
 me. Should the Earl's assistance be required 
 in any thing of vital importance, show him that 
 ring, if he be in England, or if he be abroad, 
 tell him that you possess it, and beseech him by 
 all the thoughts which that may call up in his 
 mind to aid you to the utmost of his power. — I 
 think he will not fail you." 
 
 Wilton was about to answer; and though it 
 was now growing dusk, he might have lingered 
 on much longer, striving to gain more inform-
 
 THE king's highway. 293 
 
 ation, but at that moment there came a sound 
 of many feet at the passage, and the voice of 
 some one speaking apparently to the landlord, 
 and demanding, " Who the devil's horses are 
 those walking up'and down there?" 
 
 Almost at the same time, a hand was laid 
 upon the latch of the door, and it would have 
 been thrown open, had not Green previously 
 taken the precaution of locking it. He now 
 partially opened it, however, and spoke a few 
 words to those without, 
 
 *' Go into the next room," he said, " go into 
 the next room — I will be with you directly." 
 He then closed the door again, and turning to 
 Wilton, took him by the arm, saying, " Now 
 mount your horse, and be gone instantly : your 
 time for staying here is over ; make the best of 
 your way home, without delay ; and only re- 
 member, that whenever w^e meet in future, you 
 do not appear to know me, unless I speak to you. 
 Should you want advice, direction, and assist- 
 ance — and remember, that though poor and 
 powerless as I seem, I may know more, and be 
 able to do far more, than you imagine — ask for 
 u 3
 
 294 THE king's highway. 
 
 me here ; or the first time you see me, lay your 
 finger upon that ring which she has given you, 
 and I will find means tojearn your wishes, and 
 to promote them instantly — Now you must go 
 at once." 
 
 Wilton saw that the attempt to learn more, 
 at that moment, would be vain : but before he 
 departed he took the lady by the hand, bidding 
 her adieuj and saying, " At all events, I have 
 one consolation. Since I came here, I feel less 
 lonely in the world ; I feel that there are some 
 to whom T am dear ; and yet I would fain ask 
 you one thing more. It is, how, when I think 
 of you, I shall name you in my own thoughts. 
 Your image will be frequently before me ; the 
 affection that you have shown me, the words 
 you have spoken, will never be forgotten. But 
 there is a pleasure in connecting all those re- 
 membrances with a name. It seems to render 
 them definite ; to give them a habitation in the 
 heart for ever." 
 
 " Call me Helen," replied the lady quickly. 
 " Where I now dwell they call me the Lady 
 Helen. I must not add any more ; and now
 
 THE king's highway. 295 
 
 adieu, for it is time that both you and I should 
 leave this place." 
 
 Green once more urged him to depart ; and 
 Brown, with his curiosity not satisfied, but 
 even more excited than ever, quitted the house, 
 mounted his horse, and rode away slowly towards 
 his own dwelling, meditating as he went. 
 
 u i
 
 296 THE king's highway. 
 
 CHAR XVI. 
 
 " Onward ! onward !" cries the voice of youth; 
 whether it may be that the days are bright, 
 passing in joy and tranquilHty, and we can say 
 with the greatest French poet of the present 
 day — ay, the greatest, however it may seem — 
 Berangei', 
 
 " Sur une onde tranquille, 
 Voguant soil* et matin, 
 Ma nacelle est docile 
 
 Au soufSe du destin. 
 La voile s'enfle-t-elle, 
 
 J'abandonne le bord. 
 (O doux zepbir, sois-moi fidele !) 
 Eh ! vogue, ma nacelle ; 
 
 Nous trouverons un port " — 
 
 or whether the morning is overcast with clouds 
 and storms, still " Onward ! onward ! " is the 
 cry, either in the hope of gaining new jo^'s, or 
 to escape the sorrows that surround us. It is 
 for age to stretch back the longing arms to-
 
 297 
 
 wards the Past : the fate of youth is to bound 
 forward to meet the Future. 
 
 Wilton reached his liome, and bending down 
 his head upon his hands passed more than an 
 hour in troublous meditation. All was confused 
 and turbid. The stream of thought was like a 
 mountain torrent, suddenly swelled by rains, 
 overflowing its banks, knowing no restraint, no 
 longer clear and bright, but dark and foaming 
 and whirling in rapid and uncertain eddies 
 round every object that it touched upon. The 
 scene at Beaufort House, the thought of Laura, 
 and all that had been said there, mingled 
 strangely and wildly with every thing that had 
 taken place afterwards, and nothing seemed 
 certain, but all confused, and indistinct, and 
 vague. But still there came a cry from the 
 bottom of his heart: the cry of '^ Onward ! on- 
 ward ! onward ! towards the fated future !" 
 
 Nor was that cry the less vehement or less 
 importunate because he had no power whatso- 
 ever to advance or retard the coming events by 
 a single hour : nor had it less influence because 
 — unlike most men, who generally have some
 
 298 THE king's highway. 
 
 lamp, however dim, to give them light into the 
 dark caverns of the futm'e — he had not even 
 one faint ray of probability to show him what 
 was before his footsteps. 
 
 On the contrary, the yearning to reach that 
 future, to pass on through that darkness to some 
 brighter place beyond, was all the more strong 
 and urgent. In short, excited imagination had 
 produced some hope, without the slightest pro- 
 bability to foster it. He had even been told that 
 he was to expect information of a painful kind. 
 Not one word had been said to give him the 
 expectation of a bright destiny : and yet there 
 was something so sweet, so happy, in having 
 found any one whose tenderness had been 
 bestowed upon his infant years, and whose 
 affection had remained unchanged by time and 
 absencej that hope — as hope always is — was born 
 of happiness ; and though that hope was wild, 
 uncertain, and unfounded, it made the natural 
 eagerness of youth all the more eager. 
 
 When he lay down to rest he slept not, but 
 still many a vision floated before his waking 
 eyes, and thought made the night seem short.
 
 THE king's highway. 299 
 
 On the following morning he was early up and 
 dressed ; but by seven o'clock a note was put 
 into his hand, in a writing which he did not 
 know. On opening it, however, he found it to 
 contain a request, couched in the most cour- 
 teous terms, from the Duke of Gaveston, that he 
 would call upon him immediately, and before 
 he went to the house of Lord Byerdale. Tliere 
 was scarcely time to do so; but he instantly 
 ordered his horse and galloped to Beaufort 
 House as fast as possible. He was ushered 
 immediately into a small saloon, and thence 
 into the dressing-room of the Duke, whom he 
 found in a state of considerable agitation, and 
 evidently embarrassed even in explaining to him 
 what he wanted. 
 
 " I have sent for you, Mr. Brown," he said, 
 — "I have sent for you to speak on a mat- 
 ter that may be of great consequence : — not 
 that I know that it will be — not that I have 
 heard any thing — for I would not hear, after I 
 found out what was the great object ; but — 
 but " 
 
 Wilton was inclined to imagine that some
 
 300 THE king's highway. 
 
 unexpected obstacles had occurred in regard to 
 the proposed alliance between the families of 
 the Duke and of the Earl of Byerdale, and he 
 certainly felt no inclination to aid in removing 
 those obstacles. He replied, therefore, coldly 
 enough, " If there is any thing in which I can 
 serve your Grace, I am sure it v*'ill give me much 
 pleasure to do so." 
 
 His coldness, however, only seemed to increase 
 the Duke's eagerness and also his agitation. 
 
 *' You can, indeed, Mr. Brown," he said, "ren- 
 der me the very greatest service, and I'm sure 
 you are an honourable and an upright man, 
 and will not refuse me. If 3'ou had explained 
 yourself more clearly the night before last, I am 
 sure I would have taken your advice at once, 
 and would not have gone at all ; but as it is, I 
 stayed not a moment longer than I could help, 
 and have now broken with Fenwick and Barklay 
 for ever. They vow that I am pledged to 
 their cause and must take a part, but they will 
 find themselves mistaken." 
 
 Wilton now found that the good nobleman's 
 fancy had misled him, and that his agitation
 
 THE king's highway. 301 
 
 arose from something that had taken place at 
 the meeting at the Old King's Head, in regard 
 to which he certainly knew nothing, nor indeed 
 wished to know any thing. He replied, how- 
 ever, somewhat more warmly, — 
 
 '' In regard to these transactions, my Lord 
 Duke, I know nothing, as I before informed 
 you ; but if you will tell me how I can serve 
 you, I will do it with pleasure." 
 
 '' I was sure you would, Mr. Brown, I was 
 sure you would,'' said the Duke. " You can do 
 me the greatest service, my dear young friend, 
 by promising me positively upon your word of 
 honour never to mention to any one that I 
 went to this meeting at the Old King's Head, 
 or, in fact, that I knew any thing about it. 
 I especially could wish that it be not men- 
 tioned to the Earl of Byerdale ; for I know that 
 he is a very fierce and vindictive man, and I do 
 not wish to put myself in his power, just at 
 present above all times. Nobody on earth 
 knows it but you and the people engaged in the 
 affair, whose mouths are stopped of course. We 
 left the carriage on this side of Paul's, and I
 
 302 THE king's highway. 
 
 sent the two running footmen different ways, 
 so that, if you give me your honour, 1 am quite 
 safe." 
 
 " I give you my honour, most assuredly, my 
 Lord Duke," replied Wilton, " that I will 
 never, under any circumstances, or at any time, 
 mention one word of that which has taken place 
 between us on the subject. Rest perfectly sure 
 of that. Indeed, I know nothing ; I therefore 
 have nothing to tell. But, at all events, I will 
 utter not one word." 
 
 '^ Thank you, thank you," cried the Duke, 
 grasping his hand with joy and enthusiasm ; 
 " thank you, thank you a thousand times, my 
 dear young friend ; " and in the excitement of 
 the moment, in his dressing-gown and slippers 
 as he was, he led Wilton out to the room where 
 his daughter was seated, and without any ex- 
 planation informed her that he, Wilton, was one 
 of his best and dearest friends. He then rushed 
 back again to conclude the little that wanted to 
 the labours of his toilet, leaving Wilton alone 
 with her at the breakfast- table. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Brown," exclaimed Laura, with
 
 THE king's highway. 303 
 
 her face glowing with eagerness, " I hope and 
 trust that you have settled this business, for I 
 have been most anxious ever since last night. 
 Sir John Fenwick behaved so ill, and quitted 
 the house in such fury, and that dark-looking 
 man who accompanied him back, used such 
 threatening language towards my father, that 
 indeed; indeed, I feared for the consequences 
 this morning." 
 
 Wilton evidently saw that her fears pointed 
 in any direction but the right one, and that she 
 apprehended some hostile rencontre between her 
 father and the two rash Jacobites with whom he 
 had suffered himself to be entangled. Knowing, 
 however, that it could be any thing but the de- 
 sire of such men to call public attention to their 
 proceedings, he did not scruple to give her every 
 assurance that no duel, or angry collision of any 
 kind, was likely to take place; at which news 
 her face glowed with pleasure, and her lips 
 flowed with many an expression of gratitude, 
 although he assured her again and again that 
 he had done nothing on earth to merit her 
 thanks.
 
 304 THE king's highway. 
 
 The smiles were very beautiful, however, 
 and very grateful to his heart; but he found 
 that every moment was adding to feehngs which 
 it was madness to indulge ; and therefore, as 
 soon as the Duke had returned, he took his 
 leave, and turned his steps homeward. He 
 knew, indeed, that he should have to encounter 
 the same pleasant danger again that very after- 
 noon ; that he should have to see her, to be in 
 the same room, to sit at the same table with 
 her, to speak to her, even though it were but 
 for a moment; but then it would be all under 
 restraint ; the eyes of the many would be upon 
 them ; there would be no open communication, 
 no speaking the real feelings of the heart, no 
 freedom from the dull routine of society. 
 
 He was perhaps five minutes behind his 
 time, but the Earl was all complaisance : the 
 arrangements that he had made for his son; 
 the unexpected facility with which Lord Slier- 
 brooke had apparently entered into those ar- 
 rangements; the political importance of the 
 alliance with the Duke ; the immense accession 
 of wealth to his family ; the aspect of public
 
 THE king's highway. 305 
 
 affairs, were all sufficient to mellow down a 
 demeanour which, to his inferiors at least, was 
 generally harsh and proud. But yet Wilton 
 could not help believing that there was a 
 peculiar expression in the Earl's countenance 
 when that nobleman's eyes turned upon him; 
 that there was a smile which was not a smile of 
 benignity ; that there was a courtesy which was 
 not of the heart. Why or wherefore Wilton 
 could hardly tell, but he fancied that the Earl's 
 conduct was what it might be towards a person 
 who had suddenly fallen completely into his 
 power, and whom he intended to use as a tool 
 in any way that he might think fit. He pic- 
 tured to his own imagination the Earl bidding 
 his victim perform some action the most revolt- 
 ing to his feelings in the sweetest tone possible ; 
 the victim beginning to resist ; the cold-blooded 
 politician calmly showing his power, and exer- 
 cising it with bitter civility. 
 
 However, the courtesy lasted all day : there 
 was nothing said to confirm Wilton in this fancy ; 
 and when he took leave, the Earl reminded him 
 of the dinner hour, adding, " Be punctual, be 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 
 
 punctual, Mr. Brown. We shall dine exactly 
 at the hour; and my cook is a virago, you 
 know." 
 
 Wilton did not fail to be to the moment, and 
 he, the Earl, and Lord Sherbrooke, were some 
 time in the great saloon before the guests began 
 to arrive. At length the large heavy coaches 
 of those days began to roll into the court-yard, 
 and one after another, many a distinguished 
 man and many a celebrated beauty of the age 
 appeared. Still, however, the Earl evidently 
 looked upon the Duke and his daughter as 
 the principal guests, and waited in anxious ex- 
 pectation for their coming. 
 
 They arrived later than any one, Laura her- 
 self looking grave, if not sad, the Duke evi- 
 dently embarrassed and not at ease. Nor did 
 the particular attentions paid by the Earl to 
 both remove in any degree the sadness of the 
 one or the embarrassment of the other. This 
 ■was so marked that the Earl soon felt it ; and 
 though the sort of determined calmness of his 
 manner, and habitual self-command, prevented 
 him from showinor the least uneasiness, yet, from
 
 307 
 
 a particular glance of his eye and momentary 
 quiver of his lip, Wilton divined that he was 
 angry and irritable. 
 
 It must be admitted, also, that Lord Sher- 
 brooke did not take the means to put his father 
 more at ease. To Lady Laura he paid no 
 attention whatsoever, devoted himself during 
 the greater part of the evening to a beautiful 
 woman of not the most pure and imsuUied 
 character in the world, and showed himself 
 disposed to flirt with every body, except the 
 very person to whom his father wished him to 
 pay court. The dinner party was followed by 
 an entertainment in the evening; and still the 
 same scene went on ; till at length the Earl 
 came round to Wilton, and said in a low voice, 
 ** I wish, my dear young gentleman, you would 
 try your influence upon Sherbrooke." 
 
 Tlie Earl was going on, but Wilton rose 
 immediately, saying, " I understand you, my 
 Lord," and approaching the place where Lord 
 Sherbrooke was seated, he waited till the 
 laughter which was going on around him was 
 over, and then said in a low voice, " For pity's 
 X 2
 
 308 THE king's highway. 
 
 sake, Sherbrooke, and for decency's sake, do 
 pay some attention to the Duke and his 
 daughter ; remember they are new guests of 
 your father's, and merit, at all events, some re- 
 spect." 
 
 The young Lord looked up in his friend's 
 countenance with a malicious smile, replying, 
 " They do, my dear Wilton, they do ! and you 
 see I keep at a respectful distance. But I will 
 do any thing to please." 
 
 He accordingly rose from his seat, and Wil- 
 ton saw him first approach the Duke, speak a 
 few words to him, and then take a seat beside 
 Lady Laura. Her air was evidently cold and 
 reserved, but what passed more, Wilton^ of 
 course, did not know. The j'oung lord, how- 
 ever, seemed suddenly struck by something 
 that she said, turned quickly towards her, and 
 made a rejoinder ; she answered, apparently, 
 with perfect calmness. But the instant after. 
 Lord Sherbrooke rose from his chair, made 
 her a low bow, and was crossing the room. His 
 father, however, met him half-way, and they 
 spoke for a moment or two. The Earl's cheek
 
 THE king's highway. 309 
 
 became very red, and his brow contracted ; but 
 Lord Sherbrooke passed quietly on, and came 
 up to where Wilton stood. 
 
 " She has just told me what she thinks of 
 my character, Wilton," said the young noble- 
 man, " and I have transmitted the same to my 
 father, who must settle the matter with the 
 Duke as he likes." 
 
 " The Earl's plans are certainly in a pros- 
 perous condition," thought Wilton ; and though 
 he could not, of course, approve of the uncere- 
 monious means which Lord Sherbrooke took to 
 defeat his father's intentions, and to cast the 
 burden of refusal on Lady Laura, yet he could 
 not grieve, it must be admitted, that she should 
 have the means of judging rightly and deter- 
 mining for herself. 
 
 During the whole evening her conduct to- 
 wards Wilton Brown had been exactly what 
 he had expected — kind, gentle, and cour- 
 teous. She evidently treated him more as 
 a friend than any one else in the room ; and 
 though he purposely spoke to her but seldom, 
 X 3
 
 310 THE king's highway. 
 
 and then merely with the terms of formal re- 
 spect, yet whenever he did approach her, she 
 greeted him with a smile, which showed that 
 his society was not at all unpleasant to her. 
 
 To the eyes of Wilton it was very evident 
 that Lord Byerdale was extremely irritated by 
 what he had heard. No one else perceived it, 
 however, for, as was usual with him, the irrita- 
 tion of the moment, though likely to produce 
 very serious effects at an after period, clothed 
 itself for the time in additional smiles and 
 stately courtesies, only appearing now and then 
 in an additional drop of sarcastic bitterness 
 mingling with all the civil things that he said. 
 As usual, also, he was peculiarly soft and reve- 
 rential in his manner towards those with whom 
 he was most angry, and the Duke and Lady 
 Laura were more the objects of his particular 
 attention than ever. He sat beside her ; he 
 talked to her ; he paid her that marked atten- 
 tion which his son had neglected to offer ; and 
 at length, when the Duke proposed to retire, he 
 himself handed her to the carriage, paying her 
 some well turned compliment at every step,
 
 THE king's highway. 311 
 
 and relieving his heart of its bitterness by some 
 stinging sneer at the rest of womankind. 
 
 Thus passed over the evening ; and Wilton, 
 it must be acknowledged with a mind more at 
 ease on account of the decided part that Lady 
 Laura seemed to have taken, slept soundly and 
 dreamt happily, though he still resolved, sooner 
 or later, to crush feelings which could only end 
 in misery. 
 
 On the following morning he went to the 
 house of Lord Byerdale at the usual hour, and 
 proceeded at once to the cabinet of the Earl. 
 It was already occupied by that nobleman and 
 his son, however; and though there were no 
 loud words spoken, no angry tones audible, yet 
 there were sufficient indications of angry feeling, 
 at least on the part of the Earl, to make Wilton 
 immediately pause and draw back a step. 
 
 *^ Come in, come in," said the Earl — " you 
 know all this affair, and I believe have done 
 what you could to make this young man reason- 
 able.'' 
 
 Wilton accordingly entered the room, and 
 Lord Byerdale again turned to his son, laying 
 X 4
 
 312 
 
 his finger upon the letter before him. " I 
 repeat, Sherbrooke," he said, " that you your- 
 self have done all this. I did not ask you, sir, 
 to be virtuous, I did not ask you to be tempe- 
 rate, I did not bid you cast away the dice or 
 abandon drunkenness and revelling, or turn off 
 three or four of your mistresses, or to give over 
 going to the resort of every sort of vice in the 
 metropolis. I asked you none of these things, 
 because it would be hard and ungenerous to 
 require a man to do what his nature and habits 
 render perfectly impossible. I might as well ask 
 the dog not to turn 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 j^ou 
 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
 
 313 
 
 to you the immense, the inconceivable advan- 
 tages 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 arro- 
 gance, 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
 
 »314 THE king's highway. 
 
 power to interfere; and he turned to some 
 papers that were upon the tables, and hid the 
 expression which his thoughts might communi- 
 cate 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 accus- 
 tomed 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 acknow- 
 ledged 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 finding out; but
 
 THE king's highway. 315 
 
 slie shall not fail to be made equally well aware 
 of it in the end." 
 
 Thus saying, he turned and quitted the 
 room, giving some casual directions to Wilton 
 as he passed. 
 
 " Well, that business is so far done and over," 
 exclaimed Lord Sherbrooke, as soon as his 
 father was gone; " and, as it is pleasant, my 
 dear Wilton, to do a good action now and 
 then, by way of a change, you and I must 
 enter into a conspiracy together, to prevent my 
 worthy, subtle, and revengeful father from exe- 
 cuting any of his well-laid schemes against this 
 poor girl, who has only done her duty to her- 
 self, and to me, and to her father." 
 V, " I trust," replied Wilton, " that the EarPs 
 threat was but one of those bursts of disap- 
 pointment which will pass away with time. I 
 cannot imagine that, after a little consideration, 
 he will have any inclination really to injure 
 either the Duke or his daughter \- nor, indeed, 
 do I see that he could have the means either." 
 
 Lord Sherbrooke shook his head with a 
 gloomy air, and answered, "He will make them,
 
 316 THE king's highway. 
 
 Wilton — he will make the means; and as to 
 inclination, you do not know him as well as I 
 do. He will not forget what has occurred 
 this day, as long as he remembers how to write 
 his own name. This same goodly desire of 
 revenge is henceforth a part of his nature, and 
 nothing will ever remove it, unless self-interest 
 or ambition be brought into action against it." 
 
 " But what sort of revenge think you he will 
 seek?" demanded Wilton — "situated as the 
 Duke is, I see no opportunity that your father 
 can have of injuring him." 
 
 " Heaven only knows," replied Lord Sher- 
 brooke. " The fire will go on smouldering for 
 months, perhaps for years, but it will not go 
 out. He said, just before you came in, that 
 because she had refused to marry me, he would 
 make her marry a footman; and, as I really 
 believe his Lordship is occasionally endowed 
 with superhuman powers of executing what he 
 thinks fit, it would not surprise me at all to 
 see my Lady Laura led to the altar by John 
 Noakes, our porter's son, dressed up for the 
 occasion as a foreign prince."
 
 THE king's highway. 317 
 
 " I do not fear that," replied Wilton with a 
 smile ; " I should rather apprehend that he may 
 entangle the good Duke, who does not seem 
 overburdened with sense, in some of these sad 
 plots which are daily taking place. Should we 
 find out that such is the case, we may indeed 
 aid in preventing it." 
 
 Lord Sherbrooke shook his head. ''It is 
 the poor girl he will aim at first, depend upon 
 it," the young nobleman answered. " I wish to 
 Heaven she had told me her intention of refus- 
 ing me in such a formal manner ; I would have 
 shown her how to manage the matter without 
 calling down this storm. But, instead of that, 
 she sits down and deliberately writes him a 
 letter, which, just in the proportion that it is 
 honest, true, and straight-forward, is the thing 
 best calculated to excite his wrath. Yet, as 
 if she had some idea of his character, and 
 wished to shield her father, she takes the whole 
 responsibility of the thing upon herself, telling 
 him that the Duke had pressed her much upon 
 the subject, but that she felt it would be utterly 
 impossible to give her hand to your very humble
 
 318 THE king's highway. 
 
 servant. All this has, of course, brought the 
 storm more directly upon herself, though her 
 father will be screened thereby in no degree. 
 — I doubt not he has gone there now." 
 
 " Do you think there is any chance of an 
 actual and open quarrel between them?" de- 
 manded Wilton. 
 
 " Not in the least," answered Lord Slier- 
 brooke with a scoff: " my dear Wilton, you 
 must be as blind as a mole, if you do not see 
 that my father, though as brave as a lion, is 
 not a man to quarrel with any one. He is a 
 great deal too good a politician for that; he 
 knows that in quarrelling with any one he hates, 
 he must suffer something himself, and may suffer 
 a good deal. No, no, he takes a better plan, and 
 contrives to make his enemies suffer while he 
 suffers not at all. In general, if you see him 
 particularly civil to any body, you may suppose 
 that he looks upon them as an enemy, and is 
 busy in getting them quietly into his power. 
 Quarrel with the Duke ? Oh no, a thousand 
 to one, ere half an hour be over, he will be 
 shaking him cordially by the hand, putting
 
 THE king's highway. 319 
 
 him quite at his ease, begging liim to let the 
 matter be forgotten altogether; sa3^ing that 
 it was natm'al he should seek so illustrious 
 an alliancej which, indeed, he had scarcely a 
 right to hope for. Then he will see the lady 
 herself, and say that he perfectly enters into 
 her feelings, that a person so richly gifted as 
 herself, and having already all that wealth and 
 rank can give, has a right to consult, before all 
 other thin2:s, the feelino^s of her own heart. — It 
 would not surprise me at all if he were to offer 
 to send me abroad again, lest my presence in 
 London, after the pretensions which have been 
 formed, should prove, in an}^ degree, annoying 
 to her." 
 
 The conversation continued for some time 
 longer in the same strain ; and Wilton could not 
 but feel that Lord Sherbrooke gave an accurate 
 though a terrible picture of his father's cha- 
 racter. 
 
 At length the young nobleman rose as if to 
 depart ; but standing ere he did so before the 
 table at which his young friend was seated,
 
 320 THE king's highway. 
 
 he gazed upon his face earnestly and silently 
 for a minute or two, and then said, — 
 
 " I don't know why, Wilton, but I have a great 
 and a strong regard for you, and I have been 
 dreaming dreanis for you, that I see you are 
 unwilling to dream for yourself. However, you 
 must have the same regard for me j and — even 
 if you are not inclined, in any degree, to take 
 advantage of what I must say is evident regard 
 on the part of this young lady towards you — 
 yet, for my sake, you must let me know, aid me, 
 and assist me, if you should see any scheme 
 forming against her happiness or peace. I am' 
 not so bad, Wilton, even as I seem to you. I 
 am sorry for this girl — really sorry for her. I 
 ought to have taken the burden upon my own 
 shoulders, instead of casting it upon hers; for 
 I could have removed all these difficulties by 
 speaking one single word. But that word would 
 have cost me much to speak, and I shrunk from 
 saying it. If, however, I find that through my 
 fault she is likely to suffer, I will speak that 
 word, Wilton, at all risks, so you must give me 
 help and support, at least in doing what is right."
 
 THE king's highway. 321 
 
 " That I will, Sherbrooke," replied Wilton, 
 grasping his hand, "that I will most zealously. 
 But in regard to what you say of Lady Laura's 
 kind feeling towards me, depend upon it you 
 are wholly mistaken. The only reason, be you 
 sure, why she makes any difference in her man- 
 ner towards me^ and towards men of higher rank 
 than myself, is that she knows the difference 
 of our station and fortunes must ever prevent 
 my entertaining any of those hopes which others 
 might justly feel." 
 
 Before Wilton concluded. Lord Sherbrooke 
 had cast himself into a chair ; his eyes were 
 fixed on the ground, his brow had become con- 
 tracted. It was one of those moments, when, 
 as he said, his evil spirit was upon him ; and 
 seeing that such was the case, Wilton left him to 
 his own meditations, and proceeded to write 
 the letters which the Earl had directed him to 
 despatch. 
 
 Li about half an hour, the yaung nobleman 
 roused himself from his reverie, with a light 
 laugh, apparently causeless ; and without speak- 
 ing another word to Wilton, quitted the rooiu. 
 
 VOL. I. y
 
 32*2 THE king's highway. 
 
 Wilton only saw the Earl for a few minutes 
 during the rest of the day, and with him the 
 statesman was so captious, irritable, and sneer- 
 ing, that, reading his feelings by the key his son 
 had given, Wilton had every reason to believe 
 himself to be in high favour. Various matters 
 of business, however, occurred to keep him late 
 at the Earl's house, and night had fallen when 
 he returned to his own lodgings. 
 
 In about an hour after, however, one of the 
 Earl's servants brought him a note in Lord 
 Sherbrooke's handwriting, and marked " In 
 haste." Wilton tore it open immediately, and 
 read, — 
 
 " My dear Wilton, 
 " My father directs me to request your imme- 
 diate return. The Duke is now here. Lady 
 Laura has been carried off, or, at all events, has 
 disappeared ; and we want your wise head to 
 counsel, perhaps your strong hand to execute. 
 Come directly, for we are all in agitation. 
 " Yours, 
 
 *' Sherbrooke."
 
 THE king's highway. 323 
 
 Written below, in smaller characters, and 
 marked " Private," two lines to the following 
 effect : — 
 
 " This business is not my father's doing. 
 It is too coarse for his handiwork. He may, 
 perhaps, take advantage of it, however, if he 
 finds an opportunity. Burn this instantly." 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
 
 London: 
 
 Printed by A. Spottiswoode, 
 
 New-Street- Square.
 
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 UNIVERSrrY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
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