“Of you, sir?” “Aye—who dared—?” “It was of the house I spoke.” “But—but is it not my house, quibbler?” cried Learmont. “Truly, sir.” “Then on with your speech, sir, and draw no inferences from idle gossips. The wing of my house was on fire. Enough—what followed?” “A man rushed from it in mortal agony of mind and body, carrying a child—” “Well—well!” “That child was given to the care of Dame Tatton, who dwelt in this cottage. Now child and dame have both disappeared.” “I hear!” cried Learmont. “What is to be done sir? You are the lord here.” “And so, I presume,” sneered Learmont, “I must charge myself to bring back every old woman, who disappears from her hovel?” “Here is an inscription on the wall,” said Frank, “which seems to refer—” “Ah!” cried Learmont, striding forward, and reading the few words that had been scratched on the wall. “Well, what then?” “That I ask you Squire Learmont.” “Then I reply, nothing. Will you finish that sentence?” “Certainly not.” “Then what further have you to say to me?” Frank was rather confounded by the manner of the squire and was silent. “Young man,” said Learmont, “your father did a service to the Learmonts.” “I know it,” said Frank. “In return for that service, the Learmonts gave him a patrimony, an estate, on the substance of which you live.” “’Tis well known,” cried Frank. “The service was not overpaid. My father saved your father’s life.” “True,” sneered Learmont, “but beware!” “Beware of what?” “The house that was powerful enough to make a peasant an independent man can again convert the audacious son of a peasant into a hind he should have been. Beware I say. You know my motto.” “I do. ‘Constant till death!’” “Constant till death. Constant in all things, including—revenge!” “I scorn your threats,” cried Frank. “Be it so,” said Learmont, as with an angry frown he strode to the door of the cottage. He turned upon the threshold, and said, “this hovel shall be closed for ever. Once more I say beware!” With a haughty step he left the humble dwelling and took the road to his princely mansion. CHAPTER III. Ten Years have Flown.—The Old Rose Inn.—A Snow Storm.—Tom the Factotum.—An Arrival to the Old Smithy.—The Mysterious Stranger.