s
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 inquiry about the fisherman,
the boy, the boat, and the wreck, seemed to connect themselves with
strange figures in the past--figures which 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 investigation; what, he could not tell: but
whatever it was, his curiosity was stimulated to tax his memory 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 endeavouring 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?"
"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 soil; and he could recall no more than the particulars
we have mentioned, though the name of Lennard seemed familiar to him
also.
While he was in this meditative mood, pondering thoughtfully over the
past, and extracting little to satisfy him from a record which time,
unfortunately, had effaced, he was interr