The Earl himself had always carefully avoided 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 moment’s pain, I must ask him the question before he goes to Italy;” and he watched his opportunity for several days, without finding any means of introducing such a topic.

At length, one morning, when the Earl happened to be saying something farther regarding 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 impatiently; “you will know it all soon enough.  At one-and-twenty you shall have all the information 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 afternoon of that day another person was added to the dinner table of the Earl of Sunbury.  Wilton knew not that anybody 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, noiseless sort of footstep, which generally accompanies a disposition either naturally or habitually 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 personage, and those who liked him were wont to declare, that it was not his fault if his countenance 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, 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 politeness farther than usual.