to the
great tragic conclusion of the whole. Happy were it for man if he, like
a great dramatist, would keep the ultimate conclusion still in view.
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 companion,
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, and all 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 pray, Sir John, introduce us to your gallant young
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 slight awkwardness in introducing himself upon the present
occasion. He accordingly merely gave his name, expressing how much
happiness he felt at the opportunity he had had of serving the Duke; but
referred not at all to his own station or connexion 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 distinguished manners, with the somewhat
ordinary name which he had given. "Wilton Brown! a NOM DE GUERRE, I
rather suspect, my young friend?"
"No, indeed, my lord," replied Wilton: "were it worth anybody's while to
search, it would be found so written in the books of Christchurch."
"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 gentleman. "The fact is, my Lord Duk