"Now does your solemnity, and your gravity," said Lord Sherbrooke,
"and your not yet understanding me, almost tempt me, Wilton, to play
some wild and inconceivable trick, just for the purpose of opening
your eyes, and letting you see, that your friend is not such an
unfeeling rascal as the world gives out."

"I know you are not, my dear Sherbrooke--I am sure you are not,"
replied Wilton, grasping warmly the hand which Lord Sherbrooke held
out to him; "I was wrong for not seeing that you were in jest, and
for not discovering at once that you had not consented. But how does
the Earl bear your refusal?"

"You are as wrong as ever, my dear Wilton," replied his friend, in a
more serious tone--"I have consented; for if I had not, it must have
made an irreparable breach between my father and myself, which you
well know I should not consider desirable--I must obey him sometimes,
you know, Wilton--He had pledged himself, too, that I should consent.
However, to set your mind at rest, I will tell you the loophole at
which I creep out. Her father, it seems, is not near so sanguine as
my father, in regard to his child's obedience, and he is, moreover,
an odd old gentleman, who has got into his head a strange antiquated
notion, that the inclinations of the people to be married have
something to do with such transactions. He therefore bargained, that
his consent should be dependent upon the young lady's approbation of
me when she sees me. In fact, I am bound to court, and she to be
courted. My father is bound that I shall marry her if she likes me,
her father is bound to give her to me if she likes to be given. Now
what I intend, Wilton, is, that she should not like me. So this very
evening you must come with me to the theatre, and there we shall see
her together, for I know where she is to be. To-morrow, I shall be