The Earl did not think him ungrateful on account of the open expression of his delight.  He saw it all, and understood it all; for he had very few of the smaller selfishnesses, which so frequently blind our eyes to the most obvious facts which impinge against our own vanities.  His was a high and noble mind, chained and thralled by manifold circumstances and accidents to the dull pursuits of worldly ambitions.  One trait, however, may display his character:  he had practised in regard to the boy a piece of that high delicacy of feeling of which none but great men are capable.  He had learned and divined, from the short conversation which had taken place between himself and Lennard Sherbrooke, sufficient in regard to the boy’s unfortunate situation to guide his conduct in respect to him; and now, even when alone with him in his own drawing-room or library, he asked no farther questions; he pryed not at all into what had gone before; and though the youth occasionally prattled of the wild Irish shores, and the cottage where he had been brought up, the Earl merely smiled, but gave him no encouragement to say more.

At length, Wilton Brown went to school; and as the Earl gradually lost a part of that interest in him which had given prudence the alarm, time had its effect on Wilton also, drawing one thin airy film after another over the events of the past, not obliterating them; but, like the effect of distance upon substantial objects, gathering them together in less distinct masses, and diminishing them both in size and clearness.  When the time approached for his holidays, which were few and far between, he was called to the Earl’s house, and treated with every degree of kindness; though with mere boyhood went by boyhood’s graces, and the lad could not be fondled and played with as the child.  The Earl never did anything to make him feel that he was a dependant—­no, not for a single moment; but as the boy’s mind expanded, and as a certain degree of the knowledge of the world was gained from the habits of a public school, he explained to him, clearly and straight-forwardly, that upon his own exertions he must rely for wealth, fame, and honour.  He told him, that in the country where he lived, the road to fortune, dignity, and power, was open to every man; but that road was filled with eager and unscrupulous competitors, and obstructed in many parts by obstacles difficult to be surmounted.

“They can be surmounted, Wilton, however,” he added; “and with energy, activity, and determination, that road can be trod, from one end to the other, within the space of a single life, and leave room for repose at the end.—­You have often seen,” he continued, “a gentleman who visits me here, who rose from a station certainly not higher, or more fortunate than your own,—­who is called, even now, the Great Lord Somers, and doubtless the same name will remain with him hereafter.  He is an example for all men to follow; and his life offers an encouragement for every sort of exertion.