Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 320: what you’re looking at

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JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. endeavouring to assume a look of mingled depre- cation and astonishment. “T mean, my lord,’ I responded, “that you took a most unworthy—I might even say a dis- honourable and ungentlemanlike advantage of my confidence towards you last evening. In all frank- ness did I show you Dorchester’s letter: I cer- tainly hoped to inspire you with an equal degree of candour towards myself;—but I have been grossly deceived. You have bribed Dorchester to silence: you have purposely put a seal upon his lips in respect to whatsoever he originally intend to reveal to my ears.” “Mr. Wilmot,” said the Earl of Eccleston, drawing himself up haughtily, “you allow your tongue to use towards me a license which is far from seemly or proper. Hitherto supposing you to labour under a species of unfortunate mono- maniac belief in respect to myself, I have dealt kind!y and considerately by you “My lord,” I exclaimed vehemently, “this is intolerable! Do I not know that you have perse- cuted me * * Hush, Wilmot! we must not collect a crowd around us. Remember,” added the Earf, in a tone of gentle entreaty, “that this is the open street. But let us turn into this avenue: we can converse more at our ease. I beg you to listen to me. You have just accused me of having acted ungene- rously and dishonourably towards you in respect to the man Dorchester: but a few words of expla- nation will prove how unreasonable you are. Many years ago, when Dorchester was living in respectability and affluence at Enfield, I was well acquainted with him. You yourself have seen, by that leaf in the register which you were some time ago the means of placing in my hand, that he pronounced the nuptial benediction on myself and her who is now Countess of Eccleston. Think you therefore that I had not some little regard for the unfortunate man ‘4 “Regard for the man who, pie for some reason or another tampered with the sanctity of a parish register, all but destroyed the proof of this very marriage of your’s for the solemnization of which you appear to entertain such grateful feel- ings towards him! My lord, this is a piece of sophistry “No, Wilmot,” interrupted the Earl, “it may be an eccentricity on my part: but it is nothing more. In the presence of the dreadful calamities which that man Dorchester has brought down upon himself, I could afford to look lightly over the past in respect to the register: I pitied him—TI exerted my interest on his behalf “But not before your lordship had read the letter I showed you last night! And how is it,” I continued, “ that it was only since you saw Dor- chester that his mind altered in respect to myself ? You must take me for an idiot, my lord, if you suppose that I do not discern in this silence the result of a compact between himself and you. You saved him from the pillory—and he keeps a secret which in some way affects yourself. Ah! I could say much harsher things to you, my lord, were it not that “7 But I stopped short: for there was a tumult of ineffable feelings swelling within my soul, and I began to weep like a child. Fortunately the Earl had conducted me into a secluded spot, so that no one 307 but himself beheld the agony of affliction which thus seized upon me. He seemed frightened and concerned: ha besought me to calm. myself: he took my hand—and pressing it, he said, “Do not give way to these foolish hallucinations, whatever they are, which seem to be uppermost in your brain. If you want a friend who will do anything for you “ “T do not want a friend, my lord,” I answered in alow and tremulous voice: “ but I want to dis- cover you know what I mean the secrét of my birth!” “Mr. Wilmot,” said the Earl, all in an instant becoming eoldly formal and haughtily reserved | again, “I cannot possibly submit to become the object of these hallucinations. too far!” “Yet rest assured, my lord,” I exclaimed, “ the mystery shall be one day cleared up! It is a frightful state of incertitude—it is a horrible con- dition of suspense; and there are times when I think of it that it almost drives me mad. My happiness depends on the elucidation of this mys- It is going much tery ; and my life has not been so criminal that heaven will perpetuate my present misery! There- fore, my lord, despite all your strugglings and battlings to sustain this mystery—despite all your unwearied efforts to build up a wall of adamant at the entrance of the maze into which I seek to penetrate, the moment of your defeat must come —and at an instant when perhaps both you and I least expect it, heaven will furnish me the clue whereby to enter into that labyrinth !” With these words I hurried away; and without once reverting my looks, I sped onward until J reached the Count of Livorno’s mangion. CHAPTER CXLII. THE VILLA IN THE VALE OF ARNO. ON arriving at the mansion, I inquired for the Count, and learnt that he was in his library. Thither I repaired—and explained to him every- thing that had taken place. He was already well acquainted with every incident of my life; and I had no secrets of whatsoever kind from him. In- deed, as I have said on a former occasion, we had discussed intimately and deliberately, when I was last in Florence, all the mysteries which appeared to hang around my destiny. He now reflected for several minutes; and I felt assured that whatso- ever counsel he might give me would be salutary and good. “ My dear young friend,” he said, “I have no doubt that in respect to Sir Matthew Heseltine, he will pardon you your weakness with Lady Calanthe Dundas. Human nature is fallible—and chiefly so in the years of inexperienced youthful- ness. The man who conditionally promised you his granddaughter, and sent you abroad that you might enlarge the sphere of your mind, is in his heart generous and magnanimous, and in his opinions liberal—no matter how great the eccen- tricities which may seem to encrust and even con- ceal his good qualities. Such a man is sure to make allowances on your behalf; and therefore let OOO) S (CO