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 interrupted by the coming of the
young Lord Sherbrooke, who now was accustomed to enter familiarly
without any announcement. On the present occasion his step was more
rapid than usual, his manner more than commonly excited, and the
moment he had cast himself into a chair he burst into a long loud
peal of laughter. "In the name of Heaven," he exclaimed, "what piece
of foolery do you think my worthy father has concocted now? On my
honour, I believe that he is mad, and only fear that he has
transmitted a part of his madness to me. Think of everything that is
ridiculous, Wilton, that you can conceive; let your mind run free
over every absurd combination that it is possible to fancy; think of
all that is stupid or mad-like in times present or past, and then
tell me what it is that my father intends to do."

"I really do not know, Sherbrooke," replied his friend "but nothing,
I dare say, half so bad as you would have me believe. Your father is
much too prudent and careful a man to do anything that is absurd."

"You don't know him--Wilton, you don't know him," replied Lord
Sherbrooke; "for the sake of power or of wealth he has the courage to
do anything on earth that is absurd, and for revenge he has the
courage to do a great deal more. In regard to revenge, indeed, I
don't mind: he is quite right there; for surely if we are bound to be
grateful to a man that does good to us, we are bound to revenge
ourselves upon him who does us wrong. Besides, revenge is a