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.

When he entered, he advanced towards the Earl with one of his most
bright and placid smiles, apologized for being a little later than his
time, was delighted to see the Earl looking rather better, and then
turned to see who was the other person in the room, in order to
apportion his civility accordingly. When he beheld Wilton Brown, the
young gentleman's fine person, his high and lofty look, and a certain
air of distinction and self-possession about him, though so young,
appeared to strike and puzzle him; but the Earl instantly introduced his
protege to the statesman, saying, "The young friend, my lord, of whom I
spoke to you, Mr. Wilton Brown."

Lord Byerdale was now as polite as he could be, assured the young
gentleman that all his small interest could command should be at his
service; and while he did so, he looked from his countenance to that of
the Earl, and from the Earl's to his, as if he were comparing them with
one another. Then, again, he glanced his eyes to a beautiful picture by
Kneller, of a lady dressed in a fanciful costume, which hung on one side
of the drawing-room.

Wilton remarked the expression of his face as he did so; and his own
thoughts, connecting that expression with foregone suspicions, rendered
it painful. Quitting the room for a moment before dinner was announced,