he 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 proceeded 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 and forwards at the end of the garden. Something 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 became 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 stanch Jacobite, it was supposed, he was nevertheless looked
upon as a man of undoubted probity and honour. What could have been his
business, then, with thieves, or at best with the companions of thieves?
This was a question which Wilton could no ways solve; and after having
teased himself for some time therewith, 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
accordingly, 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