Thus saying, he turned to proceed to the box, making a sign to Wilton to follow, which he did, though at the time he did it, he censured his own weakness for yielding to the temptation.

“I am but going,” he thought, “to augment feelings of regret at a destiny I cannot change—­I only go to increase my own pain, and in no degree to avert from that sweet girl a fate but too dark and sorrowful.”

As he thus thought, he felt disposed, even then, to make some excuse for not going to the Duke’s box; but by the time they were half way thither, they were met by several persons coming the other way, amongst whom was a gentleman richly but not gaudily dressed, who immediately addressed Lord Sherbrooke, saying, that the Duke of Gaveston requested the honour of his company in his box, and Wilton immediately recognised his old companion of the road, Sir John Fenwick.  Sir John bowed to him but distantly; and Wilton was more than ever hesitating whether he should go on or not, when some one touched him on the arm, and turning round he beheld his somewhat doubtful acquaintance, who had given himself the name of Green.

Sir John Fenwick and the stranger looked in each other’s faces without the slightest sign of recognition:  but to Wilton himself Green smiled pleasantly, saying, “I very much wish to speak a word with you, Mr. Wilton Brown.  Will you just step aside with me to the lobby for a moment?”

The recollection of what had passed when last they met, together with the wish of avoiding an interview with the Duke and his daughter, from which he augured nought but pain, overcame Wilton’s repugnance to hold any private communication with one whom he had certainly seen in a situation at the least very equivocal; and merely saying to Lord Sherbrooke, “I must speak with this gentleman for a moment, and therefore cannot come with you,” he left the young lord to follow Sir John Fenwick, and turned with the stranger into the lobby.  There was no one there at the moment, for at that time the licensed abomination, of which it has since been the scene, would not have been tolerated in any country calling itself Christian.  Wilton was indeed rather glad that it was vacant, for he was not anxious to be observed by many people in conversation with his present companion.  Not that anything in his appearance or manner was calculated to call up the blush of idle pride.  The stranger’s dress was as rich and tasteful as any in the house, his manner was easy and free, his look, though not particularly striking, distinguished and gentlemanly.

The stranger was the first to speak.  “Do not alarm yourself, Mr. Brown,” he said:  “Mr. Green is a safe companion here, whatever he might be in Maidenhead Thicket.  But I wanted to speak a word to you yourself, and to give you a hint that may be beneficial to others.  As to yourself, I told you when last we met that I could bring you into company with some of your old friends.  I thought your curiosity would have carried you to the Green Dragon long ago.  As, however, you do not seem to wish to see your old friends, I have now to tell you that they wish to see you, and therefore I have to beg you to meet me there to-morrow at six o’clock.”